Read Online Casca 34: Devil's Horseman by Tony Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Tony Roberts
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hole at the apex of the roof. Casca waited impatiently for the return of his old acquaintance.
One morning, early in the winter season, he was summoned to the command yurt, and went without Kaidur who was brusquely ordered to remain inside, and Casca trudged through the snow, the wind whipping at his brown tunic and hair, under escort to the huge marquee.
He was shown in and another guard led him to a screened-off area which was covered in furs, cushions and rugs. Seated upon some of the many chairs there were Mongols he’d not seen at the camp before. He was invited to sit opposite them and once comfortable, was questioned.
“I am Mongke, Noyan and Prince, son of Tolui, grandson of Genghis Khan,” the man in the middle introduced himself. “I have just returned from a long ride to find you here amongst us. My cousin Kuyuk has already spoken to you, but I wish to see for myself who you are and whether you are as you claim!” He was lean, tall for a Mongol, with an angular face and a shock of unruly black hair. He looked slightly younger than Kuyuk.
“And, Prince Mongke, are you convinced of my identity?”
Mongke smiled. “You look like how the legend states you look, yet your appearance is not how I imagined. You are too young, but legend states you do not age. Instead, your wisdom ages so that you are without equal as a tactician.”
Casca slapped his legs in amusement. “Hardly without equal, noble Prince! I’ve met many who have an instinctive talent for battle. I’m but a humble soldier who has experience of war far greater than any of you here, and it may well be I have knowledge that can assist you and the army in the campaign to come.”
“That may be so,” Mongke acknowledged, “but I believe a man with your knowledge could be of invaluable assistance to us. If you are Casca-Badahur, then you can be not only of great tactical assistance, but to the ordinary soldier amongst us, a great morale booster. With one such as The Old Young One with us, how can we fail?” He took a drink from a cup of wine that was standing on a small table next to him. Casca knew a great weakness of the Mongol leadership was for the drink, and it had already accounted for Jochi, Genghis Khan’s eldest son. Rumors were that Ogedei Khan himself was descending into drunkenness.
Mongke smacked his lips before continuing. “But should you not be who you say you are, then I still believe you have value. You would be asked to divulge what knowledge you have of Europe and of their military tactics.”
Casca grinned. “The punishment for failing to do so need not be mentioned here, but sufficient to say I would find it unpleasant.”
Mongke chuckled, and the others sat with him nodded, smiling. “You know our ways. Then you would know that it would not be any special attention you would be receiving.”
Casca returned to his yurt and told the others what had transpired. Kaidur shook his head. “Both Kuyuk and Mongke were boys when you were still with us last, Casca-Badahur, and they cannot remember you. But they have seen you, I know that. You have seen them too.”
“Yes, but they were brats. Now they are full grown men with facial hair. It’s as if we’re meeting each other for the first time.”
The winter began to bite deeply, covering the land with snow and ice, and everyone huddled miserably into their yurts as much as possible. The training of the soldiers went on however, and exercises continued as if it were the middle of summer. The Mongols clearly were preparing themselves for a long continual campaign in all kinds of weather.
It was then that word came that Subedei and Batu were approaching, leading a long column of soldiers and prisoners. Bulgar, it was said, had ceased to exist and now the Mongol rear was secure. Now they could advance into Russia without fearing an attack from behind.
And at least, Casca could now prove to everyone who he damned well was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Subedei slowly dismounted, his
One morning, early in the winter season, he was summoned to the command yurt, and went without Kaidur who was brusquely ordered to remain inside, and Casca trudged through the snow, the wind whipping at his brown tunic and hair, under escort to the huge marquee.
He was shown in and another guard led him to a screened-off area which was covered in furs, cushions and rugs. Seated upon some of the many chairs there were Mongols he’d not seen at the camp before. He was invited to sit opposite them and once comfortable, was questioned.
“I am Mongke, Noyan and Prince, son of Tolui, grandson of Genghis Khan,” the man in the middle introduced himself. “I have just returned from a long ride to find you here amongst us. My cousin Kuyuk has already spoken to you, but I wish to see for myself who you are and whether you are as you claim!” He was lean, tall for a Mongol, with an angular face and a shock of unruly black hair. He looked slightly younger than Kuyuk.
“And, Prince Mongke, are you convinced of my identity?”
Mongke smiled. “You look like how the legend states you look, yet your appearance is not how I imagined. You are too young, but legend states you do not age. Instead, your wisdom ages so that you are without equal as a tactician.”
Casca slapped his legs in amusement. “Hardly without equal, noble Prince! I’ve met many who have an instinctive talent for battle. I’m but a humble soldier who has experience of war far greater than any of you here, and it may well be I have knowledge that can assist you and the army in the campaign to come.”
“That may be so,” Mongke acknowledged, “but I believe a man with your knowledge could be of invaluable assistance to us. If you are Casca-Badahur, then you can be not only of great tactical assistance, but to the ordinary soldier amongst us, a great morale booster. With one such as The Old Young One with us, how can we fail?” He took a drink from a cup of wine that was standing on a small table next to him. Casca knew a great weakness of the Mongol leadership was for the drink, and it had already accounted for Jochi, Genghis Khan’s eldest son. Rumors were that Ogedei Khan himself was descending into drunkenness.
Mongke smacked his lips before continuing. “But should you not be who you say you are, then I still believe you have value. You would be asked to divulge what knowledge you have of Europe and of their military tactics.”
Casca grinned. “The punishment for failing to do so need not be mentioned here, but sufficient to say I would find it unpleasant.”
Mongke chuckled, and the others sat with him nodded, smiling. “You know our ways. Then you would know that it would not be any special attention you would be receiving.”
Casca returned to his yurt and told the others what had transpired. Kaidur shook his head. “Both Kuyuk and Mongke were boys when you were still with us last, Casca-Badahur, and they cannot remember you. But they have seen you, I know that. You have seen them too.”
“Yes, but they were brats. Now they are full grown men with facial hair. It’s as if we’re meeting each other for the first time.”
The winter began to bite deeply, covering the land with snow and ice, and everyone huddled miserably into their yurts as much as possible. The training of the soldiers went on however, and exercises continued as if it were the middle of summer. The Mongols clearly were preparing themselves for a long continual campaign in all kinds of weather.
It was then that word came that Subedei and Batu were approaching, leading a long column of soldiers and prisoners. Bulgar, it was said, had ceased to exist and now the Mongol rear was secure. Now they could advance into Russia without fearing an attack from behind.
And at least, Casca could now prove to everyone who he damned well was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Subedei slowly dismounted, his
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