Read Online Swords From the West by Harold Lamb - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Harold Lamb
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, Suspense, Historical, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Short Stories, Adventure fiction, Crusades
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vultures are hovering in the air. I have eyes to see!"
In spite of himself Tron glanced around, and Mardi Dobro struck his camel, urging it past them.
"Ye may see nothing," he cried over his shoulder, "but they are there."
"A mad mountebank," the Genoese muttered.
The next day they crossed a second, smaller river. Climbing the eastern bank, Nial halted with an exclamation. The dark line of the road stretched straight to the east, between twin lakes. Far in the distance he made out a gray wall, dwarfed by the immense white wall of mountains behind it.
"The city of Sarai," Tron said, "and the palace of the Golden Horde."
Sarai had grown up around the ordu, or camp, of the Tatars fifty years before when Juchi, the son of Genghis Khan, first conquered and then settled in the vast steppes between the Caspian Sea and the northern forests. The Tatars had made their headquarters in this spot between the lakes and within reach of the rivers; and the first huddle of sheds had spread out into wide streets, where Moslems and Kipchak desert men had their quarters beside the shops of traders from Cathay and barbarians from the mountains. Upon the height overlooking the lake, the Tatar khans had built a walled-in palace, with gilded domes rising where the yurt summits had stood. These domes, and the wealth they contained, had given their name to the Golden Horde.
Tron did not wish to stay in the Moslem quarter; he selected a room in a small house kept by a Greek near the cemetery under the palace height. They stabled their horses in the courtyard shed, and when the chests had been carried into their chamber the Genoese shut the door and looked to see if the horn window was fast. Then he went to warm his hands over the smoking brazier.
"Messer Nial," he said slowly, "you have lost me my stock of jewels; and so you have sworn to make good the loss, and also to aid me in my venture."
"Aye, so."
"There is danger to be faced, and a great reward."
Nial looked up inquiringly from the handful of nuts he was cracking. And Tron made up his mind to speak openly. The young swordsman trusted him and could not betray him in any event.
"I have come to Sarai," he explained, "not to sell jewels but to get one. A single one that hath no equal, not even in the markets of Constantinople."
"Who has such a thing to sell?"
"I could not buy it." Tron's beard twitched in a smile. "Nor could anyone. 'Tis an emerald, cut in the shape of a lion's head. I have seen it, and it would fill your open hand. Surely its weight must be over a hundred piccoli."
"An emerald?" Nial knew little of precious stones.
"Aye. Flawed perhaps, but still a stone unlike any other. It came from Ind, where it was cut for an emperor. Then, in the wars, it was carried off to Baghdad, where it was kept in the treasury of the caliphs. Barka Khan brought it away from the sack of Baghdad twenty years ago. They call it the Green Lion. That is why it may not be bought; and so I mean to take it."
As Nial was silent, he added:
"I know not what the Green Lion would fetch in the West. Only the emperor in Constantinople or the treasury of Rome could buy it. But meseems your profit would be not less than five thousand byzants of Venetian weight."
"A great sum," said Nial quietly. He understood now why Tron had not turned back after the theft of the jewel sack. Such stones were as kernels of corn beside this one.
"With it you could live as a man of gentle blood, with horses and followers and a palazzo, in Genoa. Eh, you could buy yourself a delicate young woman slave with sound teeth and sweet breath."
Nial smiled at the merchant's idea of luxury. And Tron, excited by his scheme, misinterpreted the smile.
"I know well what I say, Messer Nial. Two years ago I saw the Green Lion where it is kept in the Altyn-dar, the Gold House, or treasury of the Horde. At that time I judged its worth. A simple, swift venture, and the great jewel is in our hands, with no one to hold suspicion or make a
In spite of himself Tron glanced around, and Mardi Dobro struck his camel, urging it past them.
"Ye may see nothing," he cried over his shoulder, "but they are there."
"A mad mountebank," the Genoese muttered.
The next day they crossed a second, smaller river. Climbing the eastern bank, Nial halted with an exclamation. The dark line of the road stretched straight to the east, between twin lakes. Far in the distance he made out a gray wall, dwarfed by the immense white wall of mountains behind it.
"The city of Sarai," Tron said, "and the palace of the Golden Horde."
Sarai had grown up around the ordu, or camp, of the Tatars fifty years before when Juchi, the son of Genghis Khan, first conquered and then settled in the vast steppes between the Caspian Sea and the northern forests. The Tatars had made their headquarters in this spot between the lakes and within reach of the rivers; and the first huddle of sheds had spread out into wide streets, where Moslems and Kipchak desert men had their quarters beside the shops of traders from Cathay and barbarians from the mountains. Upon the height overlooking the lake, the Tatar khans had built a walled-in palace, with gilded domes rising where the yurt summits had stood. These domes, and the wealth they contained, had given their name to the Golden Horde.
Tron did not wish to stay in the Moslem quarter; he selected a room in a small house kept by a Greek near the cemetery under the palace height. They stabled their horses in the courtyard shed, and when the chests had been carried into their chamber the Genoese shut the door and looked to see if the horn window was fast. Then he went to warm his hands over the smoking brazier.
"Messer Nial," he said slowly, "you have lost me my stock of jewels; and so you have sworn to make good the loss, and also to aid me in my venture."
"Aye, so."
"There is danger to be faced, and a great reward."
Nial looked up inquiringly from the handful of nuts he was cracking. And Tron made up his mind to speak openly. The young swordsman trusted him and could not betray him in any event.
"I have come to Sarai," he explained, "not to sell jewels but to get one. A single one that hath no equal, not even in the markets of Constantinople."
"Who has such a thing to sell?"
"I could not buy it." Tron's beard twitched in a smile. "Nor could anyone. 'Tis an emerald, cut in the shape of a lion's head. I have seen it, and it would fill your open hand. Surely its weight must be over a hundred piccoli."
"An emerald?" Nial knew little of precious stones.
"Aye. Flawed perhaps, but still a stone unlike any other. It came from Ind, where it was cut for an emperor. Then, in the wars, it was carried off to Baghdad, where it was kept in the treasury of the caliphs. Barka Khan brought it away from the sack of Baghdad twenty years ago. They call it the Green Lion. That is why it may not be bought; and so I mean to take it."
As Nial was silent, he added:
"I know not what the Green Lion would fetch in the West. Only the emperor in Constantinople or the treasury of Rome could buy it. But meseems your profit would be not less than five thousand byzants of Venetian weight."
"A great sum," said Nial quietly. He understood now why Tron had not turned back after the theft of the jewel sack. Such stones were as kernels of corn beside this one.
"With it you could live as a man of gentle blood, with horses and followers and a palazzo, in Genoa. Eh, you could buy yourself a delicate young woman slave with sound teeth and sweet breath."
Nial smiled at the merchant's idea of luxury. And Tron, excited by his scheme, misinterpreted the smile.
"I know well what I say, Messer Nial. Two years ago I saw the Green Lion where it is kept in the Altyn-dar, the Gold House, or treasury of the Horde. At that time I judged its worth. A simple, swift venture, and the great jewel is in our hands, with no one to hold suspicion or make a
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