'No, you are coming with us. You will be presented to the Khan and it would be wise not to mention any doubts you may have about serving him. He is quite short tempered and the torture chambers are close at hand.'
The ambassador continued. 'The Khan particularly wants a wizard. That doctor fellow who created strangely shaped animals would have done. it was a great waste, that you had him killed. We were about to make an offer to Lord Grausam, to buy him. The Khan collects wizards. He believes in such things, and he would have been glad to get another. But you ordered the wizard's creatures to kill him, and that was that! A great error; above all don't mention it to the Khan.'
Derek would have shaken his head but it hurt too much. He had never ordered Doctor Grozny's death, and had tried to save him, but he did not want to discuss the tragedy.
He tried to be threatening. 'I have powerful friends in the Sultanate; chiefs of strong clans who would lead them into battle to set me free.' The ambassador shrugged. 'The Khan will be interested to hear that, but he will not tremble on his throne. The clans you speak of would be cut to pieces before they got this far. We do not fear the Sultanate because we have defeated its armies many times. They have invaded our borders in the past but in the end they flee for their lives before the power and glory of the mighty Khan.'
'If your armies are so good why do you want me?'
'Because we face a greater threat than Sultania will ever be. A powerful army has come out of the north we are facing barbarian horsemen and foot soldiers without number, and before them our armies fail.'
'Besides,' said the older ambassador, who had scarcely spoken. 'The Sultan would forbid the attack you speak of. Why would he risk war with the Carthaginian Empire to rescue one who subjected him to the humiliation of being abducted by apes?'
Derek thought the man may have hit on an important point. The sultan would remember him for leading Doctor Grozny's creatures to cut the guy ropes of his tent and then carry him off as a pawn in a dangerous political game. He would never permit a military attack to recover a manager, particularly a functionary he had never asked for or ordered.
Derek did not want to hear any more. He laid his head again on the table hoping vaguely that everything would go away if he kept his eyes closed. It was no use; the ambassadors had ordered food and they made him eat his share, willing or no. The meat in a large bowl in the middle of the table may have been goat flesh; it may have been anything; he did not know and did not much care. It was heavily spiced and not to his taste but he had to eat it anyway. The ambassadors wanted to have him in a reasonable condition before he was presented to the Khan.
/The landlord of the inn had been ordered to send for the local healer and a woman came with a pot of ointment; she waited outside until called for.
After the troopers had eaten they laid Derek face down on a bed and pulled down his trousers so the woman could apply her ointment freely to his thighs and buttocks, which she then proceeded to massage. He was beyond embarrassment and fell asleep. When she finished the troopers threw a blanket over him, gave her a coin, and she went away.
He awoke hours later. The skin of his backside no longer burned, but he still had aches and pains, and his troubles were not ended. The ambassadors feared the Khan's anger, and were anxious to get on. He was made to ride once more. This time he was not tied on, but had a saddle, which was softened. a little by a blanket taken from their lodgings. They did not fear him jumping or falling off. He was too far from the border to escape.
'You men,' said the first ambassador, addressing the troopers, 'Are to ride with us to the capital. We do not fear that an army will pursue us but some of his friends may be mad enough to do so. Any rescue attempts are to be dealt with mercilessly. Now, follow!'
The group rode off along the track that led to the capital and Derek's meeting with the Khan.
The older ambassador had gone. He had ridden on ahead, so Derek was informed by the younger man, who seemed a little friendlier now he was on his own. Derek was in a bad way, almost crippled by the effects of his long ride. It was decided that he could have another night of rest at a caravanserai.
This was an inn, but like all caravanserais it was surrounded by a high wall with plenty of space to hold many strings of camels going to, or coming from, the capital, and carrying goods. There were not so many camels nowadays but the inns were convenient for the twice weekly stage coaches that travelled between the two cities.
Derek slept many hours while he was there, and could feel his body starting to recover.
It took them two more days, riding easily, to reach New Carthage, the capital of the empire. The troopers took turns in leading his horse on a rope, with the others riding before and behind as bodyguard. The ambassador rode ahead. The reins on Derek's horse had been shortened and looped over its neck so all he had to do was to hang on to the pommel.
In spite of his troubles he could still see and think. They were passing through fertile countryside but the farms did not appear to prosper, and the buildings, farm-houses and the like, were poorly constructed cabins. Gradually, as they rode on, buildings and houses became more frequent and closer together, the horses’ hoofs clattered over stony roads and at last they came to a gate set in the walls of a city. They had arrived at New Carthage.
Once in the city he was brought to a building in a narrow alley with horses tethered outside. They entered and climbed to the fourth floor, which was the top storey. From the window Derek could see over the city wall to a distant vista of mountains. Perhaps they were the ones he had come over.
'You will remain here until sent for', said the ambassador. 'You will not attempt to escape because two guards will be on duty at all times; one on the landing, the other with you in the room. Anything you need for your meeting with the Khan will be supplied.
The guard outside the door had a particularly nasty looking dagger, old, but sharpened to a killing point and edge. It was stuck in a leather sheath at his waist. He also had a bow and a bag full of arrows. This man, who stank of sweat and horse dung, glared at Derek as though it was his fault that it would be a long, cold night outside the door when he would have been happier riding his horse somewhere.
The trooper with Derek was similarly armed and prepared to stay on watch until he received further orders. He too seemed to regard Derek as not worth the loss of a night's sleep, and glared at him as though a quick knife stab between the ribs would rid the world of another encumbrance.
'There is a latrine downstairs,' said the ambassador. 'If you need to go these men will guard you. 'Don't try to escape, they may kill you. They are scarcely civilized yet and do not realize the punishments that befall anyone who kills or injures a guest of the Khan. The Khan has decreed that only he can order the torture or death of his guests.'
'Sleep well, tomorrow you must prepare yourself to meet him.'
The ambassador barked some order to the troopers in their own language and departed. Derek could hear his boots clumping down the uncarpeted stairs until he reached the ground floor and rode off with his escort.
Derek remained in the room, with the knowledge that soon he was to meet a royal despot who was a severe critic with unlimited access to a collection of instruments of torture and execution.
He sat on his bed for a while. It was made of wooden slats and covered by a thin mattress stuffed with hair. The blankets were thin also, and had not been cleaned lately. The smell in the room was strong but he had endured worse
The guard had a chair and they looked at one another, disliking what they saw, until Derek rose and went to the window. He pushed them open and looked out. The sun was setting and gilding the clouds in the western sky. The guard did not try to stop him from going to the window. They were four stories up; the outside wall was, made of rubble with rocks and bits of brick sticking out here and there through the roughly finished plaster. It never occurred to the man that Derek might consider a dive head first to the lane below would be better than meeting the Khan.
Derek looked down and went back to the bed; there was almost no other furniture in the room. He was sitting glumly on the side of the bed with his fists supporting his chin when the guard walked to the window and stared out at the city and the mountains.
It seemed he was there, looking out not more than five seconds when Derek glimpsed something that flashed for an instant in the sunlight. It came from below, past the window ledge, and he would have thought no more about it but for his jailer staggering back from the window and making strange mewing cries.
The man was pierced with an arrow. It came from below, had entered the abdomen under the edge of his sheepskin jacket and the point had come out somewhere between his shoulder blades.
Derek caught the guard as he fell and lowered him to the floor. The man stared into his face, mouth open in a soundless scream of agony. He lay on his side and blood welled from the wounds for a while then stopped and only occasional drops of blood ran along the arrow shaft and dripped to the floor.
Derek sat back on the bed and looked with horror at the body.
His next thought was that someone was climbing the wall and was just below the window. He could hear scuffing noises as though feet were scrabbling for footholds on the rubble wall. Derek thought a murderer was coming to kill him and was on the point of calling the other guard when a head of gold coloured hair appeared above the window ledge, then a familiar, though now red, face. With his help Shani tumbled through the window. This was the girl he had saved from death by hanging only a few days before. She rose panting, and took a coil of rope from her shoulder.
She stepped over the body on the floor, kissed Derek and said, 'You're good at tying knots, darling. Tie the end of the rope to the bed.'
Chapter Twenty Two
The Rescue Party
Derek, shocked by another brutal death, but comforted by the arrival of a friend, recovered enough to tie the rope to the leg of the bed. Shani threw the other end out of the window.
He looked at her and smiled for the first time since being kidnapped. 'How did you find me?'
She smiled back. 'I'll tell you later when Gus and Freddie get here.
'Keep your voice down,' he said. 'There's a guard outside the door.'
'That's alright, we'll deal with him when the others arrive.'
The bed started to swivel across the room until it was stopped by the body of the guard.
'Sit on it, quick!'
They sat down. Derek turned sideways so as to not put his feet on the dead man
he rope was taut and pulling them bed, body, and all towards the window. Derek wondered how the guard on the other side of the door could not hear the noise and come to investigate.
When they were close enough they pushed their feet against the wall under the window. The bed stopped moving
''I'm glad you're here,' said Derek. 'But you took an awful risk climbing the wall, and you were making a target for whoever killed the guard.'
Shani hugged him. 'It wasn't too bad,' 'I've had harder climbs than that, but it was Frederika that did the guard in. She doesn't know much, but she's a dead shot with a bow and arrow. I had to talk her out of climbing the wall with me. She's still wearing armor, if she had fallen the crash would woken the whole street. We've been lucky so far, there's no one about.
Another face, red with the struggle of climbing appeared at the window. It was Gus who had climbed up with the aid of the rope, still carrying his pack. He had Frederika's spear stuck sideways through his shoulder straps. The spear stopped him from getting through the window so Derek had to free the weapon from the straps. Shani caught his collar and helped him into the room. He fell on the floor, panting.
'It's good to see your worship again,' he said after a while. 'When the Lady Frederika gets here we can start the rescue.'
'How did you find me?'
'We followed you every step of the way,' said Shani, 'But just out of sight. Your escort was too big to tackle so we decided to wait until you got to the city.'
The rope became taut again and they all sat on the bed. Frederika, defying gravity and the weight of sword and armor was climbing to the window.
'How did you get past the guards on the gate?'
'Gus and me were alright,' said Shani' 'There's a festival on in town this week and we told the guards we came from the country to see it. Freddy was the problem, she had on her helmet, greaves, her mail shirt and was carrying a sword, shield and bow.'
They reckoned she was a bit overdressed for a festival, so she told them she had come to enlist in the Khan's bodyguard.'
'They let her through?'
'Yes, but they fell about laughing at the idea of a girl in the Khan's bodyguard.' She was sent off with a soldier, to make sure she didn't get lost on the way. I suppose they thought the guards at the palace deserved a laugh too.
Gus went after them while I followed the escort to see where they were taking you.
Derek looked at Gus, What happened?'
'No problems, Your Honor. When we got round the corner, out of sight I gave the soldier a little tap on the back of the head. He fell asleep straight away in the gutter. Then we went back to a place near the gate we'd agreed on and waited for Miss Shani to come and tell us where you were.'
Frederika appeared and they helped her through the window. She crashed on to the floor, and Derek thought the sentry on the other side of the door must be totally deaf.
'There's another guard outside the door,' Shani whispered to the others. 'We'll stand either side of the door and Derek can call him in.'
'Don't kill him,' said Derek. 'I'm sick of all these killings, I can't stand it. Knock him out, or something, if you have to, but no more murders.'
Shani protested. 'We didn't come here to play around. All our lives are in danger. You turn your back, or look out the window. Leave us to get on with it.'
'Not to worry, Your Worship,' said Gus. 'Get him in here. I'll put him to sleep, my uncle showed me the trick of it, and if I get it right they won't be able to wake him for hours.'
This sounded reasonable, but Derek saw that Shani had a knife in her hand. He frowned and shook his head, she sulkily put it away again.
They stood by the door while Derek shouted, 'Guard, come in here, you're wanted.'
The man pushed the door open and stepped into the room. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of a female warrior with a spear at his throat. Shani caught an arm and twisted it behind his back. She kicked the backs of his knees and he sank down. Gus flicked off his cap, it landed in a corner of the room. Seconds later the man was lying on the floor unconscious.
'Easy peasy your honor,' said Gus. 'We've got until the morning, after that there'll be hell to pay around here. What are your orders?'
'We're getting out of here,' said Derek. He didn't know where to go, or what to do, but anything was better than waiting for the enemy to call.
'Darling, you follow me,' said Shani. 'We'll take care of you.'
'He's not your darling, he's manager of Sultania, and you're just a peasant', said Frederika.
A sudden row was about to flare up. Derek had been delighted and relieved to see his friends but knew the women didn't like one another. He said, 'Shut up both of you. I'll follow Gus, and if we meet anyone on the stairs he can put them to sleep.'
'A knife's quicker and more certain,' muttered Shani.
'Not as good as a spear.'
'Be quiet, both of you,' said Derek. 'But if you absolutely have to kill anyone do it quietly.'
After peering both ways down the passage they headed for the stairs. Derek followed, dreading the dangers to come.
'None of them had been to New Carthage before, but Shani led along a curved, narrow alley, the opposite way to which they had come.
The alley was high walled either side with strong timber doors set in it here and there. They were all closed, except for one.
This door was open and above it, fastened to the wall, was a metal bracket from which hung some greenery. Derek recognized it as a sign. A hanging bush over the door informed people unable to read that the building was an inn.
They were about to pass by but Shani stopped. 'Inside, everyone!' she cried. 'Come on, quickly!'
They followed her to the furthest corner of the inn where a man wearing a turban was sitting alone at a long table with a cup and bottle in front of him. There was nowhere else so they sat at the same table. The man raised his glass to them, but did not speak.
'What the hell was that all about?' enquired Frederika. 'If you want a drink can't you wait until we're well away?'
'There was a patrol coming towards us. They were just around the next bend.'
'I didn't see any patrol. You got a strong imagination.'
'I didn't see them either, but I haven't got flannel ears. They were marching in step round the corner and coming towards us. We may have been seen.'
Derek was trying to quieten them when a group of soldiers appeared at the street door. A sergeant came in with four men, the rest of the patrol waited by the door. He looked round suspiciously and saw them in the corner.
Frederika moved her sword in its sheath, ready for action. Gus tensed as the soldiers approached. Shani's hand moved towards her breast where the knife was hidden in her jacket.
The sergeant stood over them. 'Why did you lot duck inside when you saw us coming? Are you trying to escape from the law?'
'No, we were thirsty. We've been looking for an inn, and this seemed as good as any.'
The sergeant was not satisfied with Derek's answer. 'You went into this place in a mighty hurry. I reckon you got something to hide. You better come along with us.'
The group around the table was tense and did not move.
'Get up! I order you lot in the Khan's name to come along a me or I'll put you under arrest.'
No one stirred.
The stranger, already sitting at the table when they came in, broke the tension.
'One moment Sergeant,' he said. 'I won't have you talking to my friends like this. They are here at my very special invitation. When I sent a servant to invite them to meet me here he was instructed that they were to make haste to come. Perhaps that may explain why they were walking so quickly.'
The sergeant seemed uncertain, he asked, 'And who might you be, sir?'
'I am Abdul Khayyam brother of the famous poet Omar Khayyam, who is the Great Khan's friend. The Khan would not be pleased if he heard that his soldiers were pestering guests, such as these, who honour the empire by their presence.'
The sergeant was alarmed. He touched his knuckles to the front of his helmet as a salute. 'Sorry, sir, only doin' me duty. We was ordered special to watch out for strangers, spies, and the like. Times are bad, you know, and the enemy's army is getting closer.'
'I understand,' responded the stranger. It is pleasing to know that our protectors are so alert and ready to deal with any emergencies. But you can leave my friends here with an easy mind. And Sergeant, if a dozen bottles of beer would be acceptable to the patrol, when you go off duty, collect them from the landlord.' He waved to the man behind the bar, pointed to the sergeant and held up his hands with fingers outspread, then his two thumbs.
The barman nodded and put out twelve bottles on the bar.
The patrol seemed pleased with this generous gift and withdrew after many thanks and much saluting.
'That was very kind of you,' said Derek. 'You saved us a lot of inconvenience. We would have had to produce our papers to say we had a right to be in New Carthage.'
The man smiled at him. 'Oh, I know all about you. You're the foreign magician they brought in today. I saw you in the street with the ambassador, and I heard all the talk about you. You must be a very clever young man to have escaped so soon, no doubt your friends aided you.'
The three fighters straightened up, ready to act.
The man held up his hands, palms forward. 'Fear nothing friends. Your secrets, such as I know of them, are safe with me.The Khan shall not learn about you from my lips. You must understand that in spite of what I said to the sergeant I am no friend of the Khan. He is a despot, a tyrant, and furthermore he has no understanding of poetry.'
'Do you write poetry, sir,' Derek was prepared to listen to poetry, or anything the man wanted to talk about.
The man straightened up in his seat. 'I am the greatest poet of the Carthaginian Empire yet The Khan favors my brother over me, my brother who steals my golden verses and turn them into trash. You shall judge for yourselves, listen to this!'
He recited:-
'Wake all you sleepers, for rosy tipped dawn
Casts a curtain of blue before night's starry eyes.
She has lit the Khan's tower this morn,
Behold, she glows now as the sun doth arise.'
'My own brother, Omar Khayyam, stole those lines, as he has done with so many others, and ruined them. Judge! Judge! How poorly they sound after his interference.'
'Awake for morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the stone that puts the Stars to Flight,
And lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Khan's turret in a noose of light.'
Gold changed to lead,' said Abdul Khayyam bitterly. 'Landlord!, cups for my friends and more of your best wine.' He turned to them. 'I have many more examples you will hear before we part of verses stolen and ruined. I would spit on the name Khayyam, were it not my own.'
More cups and bottles were placed on the table. Abdul Khayyam was about to continue when Derek nervously cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry, what you are saying is most interesting but we are in a hurry. We are actually on our way to Sultania and we must get on.'
'Well, I hope you have fast horses. You will be pursued, you know. You may not be aware but the Khan is very bad tempered and will regard your escape as a great insult. You would be brought back and handed over to his torturers. Perhaps I can assist. I have a house of moderate size. A poor thing but it suffices for me. You can lodge there and we can spend the time discussing poetry. When enough days have passed you can then make your way out of the city.'
'That is very kind of you.'
'It will be a pleasure to have you in my humble abode. You can see by his taste in poetry that the Khan is not a great ruler. His mind does not dwell long on one particular subject. But if you are taken and brought before him then he will remember, and in such an event I would sooner not have my name mentioned in his presence.'
'We could do worse,' said Frederika. 'Our horses are knocked up, and we have to get another one for you, manager. We will have to leave them in the livery stables for a while longer before they could outrun fresh horses.'
'At other times any statement by Frederika would be disputed by Shani, but she had to agree that Abdul Khayyam's offer of shelter was the best they would get that night.
Derek accepted the poet's invitation. He did not care how humble the house was as long as it had comfortable beds. He had been dreading a race to the frontier and the possibility of being caught and taken back to the Khan's dungeons.
Frederika took off her helmet and clunked it down on the table. She shook her head and two shining, golden plaits of hair fell down while she reached inside the neck of her mail shirt to scratch.
Abdul Khayyam was astounded and delighted now her face was revealed without the helmet and nose guard. 'How beautiful is this warrior maiden,' he exclaimed. 'Her face how like unto a moon ripe and full. Oh moon of my delight who knows no wane, when shall I see thee rise again.'
Frederika stared at him.
The poet stood up, inspired. 'I shall now compose a poem dedicated to your beauty. Your loveliness shall be known to ages yet unborn. Poets, long after we two are dust, will be reciting my love lyrics to their sweethearts in memory of this night when we met eye to eye and love conquered all.'
'Oh shit,' said the subject of this sudden burst of poetry 'What's he on about?'
'That's enough!' said Derek. 'Mr. Khayyam is our host, and you'll be polite to him.' He was thinking of that bed and untroubled sleep.
Gus thought it time to change the subject. He sniffed, 'There's something good cooking in the kitchen, and I always fight better on a full stomach. Let's eat before we do anything else.'
Abdul Khayyam was lost in a burst of inspiration, barely aware of what was going on around him. 'I shall start my poem thus --
'Oh lovely woman from a foreign land
Let me hold thy tender hand.
You will be my blushing bride
To live with me side by side.'
Derek groaned inwardly. Frederika would not be attracted to either the man or his poetry. She had a direct way of showing disapproval, generally by hitting someone.
He could picture their visit to the Khayyam house ending in disaster. They would then be discovered as the fugitives and hauled off to the torture chambers.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of food and he suddenly discovered he was ravenous. The serving man made several trips to the table with plates and bowls of assorted dishes so that poetry and fear could be forgotten, at least for a time.
Their host and Gus drank freely. While eating each course they had two or three cups of wine. After the dishes were cleared away Abdul Khayyam was in an even more poetic mood than before. He held his cup aloft. 'A toast,' he cried, 'A toast to poets and poetry everywhere. He capped the toast with another burst of poetry.
'Come fill the cup with joy, 'tis Spring,
Let us cease forever vain repentancing,
The bird of life flutters within our breast,
Too soon it will cease, and fold its wings to rest.'
He burst into tears. 'Oh my friends, my friends, my ungrateful brother Omar, the son of my own father took that very verse, stole it, wrenched it out of shape and recited the parody to the Khan as his own. Listen to this example of ingratitude and atrocious poetry':-
'Come fill the cup, and in the fire of Spring
The winter garment of repentance fling:
The bird of life has but a little way
to fly - and lo! The bird is on the wing.'
He put his head down on the table and cried some more. 'I am a fount of poetry. I overflow with the music of words. You see one before you who will be an inspiration for generations and nations yet unborn, but sadly the Khan prefers the claptrap and rhyme of my brother.'
There were other customers in the tavern now, it was almost full, and they were listening with shocked attention to Abdul Khayyam's voice. It was a good voice for spouting poetry but not comfortable for those with him who did not want to be noticed or remembered.
People stared but they were shrinking away from the poet and his companions. Derek gathered that in New Carthage it was not a good idea to criticise the Khan in public, not with the torture chambers close at hand.
'Mr. Khayyam,' he said nervously. 'I really think we should leave now, we're tired and if you wish to recite poetry it would be better if we were all rested. We want to hear your poems and your views on modern verse when our minds are clear.'
The poet staggered to his feet. 'I live but to obey your commands.' He dropped some silver coins on the table which were taken up by the landlord, who bowed them out of the door.
'Come, my friends, hospitality awaits, follow me.' He led them through the door and Derek could hear an inst