Read Online Swords From the West by Harold Lamb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harold Lamb
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, Suspense, Historical, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Short Stories, Adventure fiction, Crusades
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hue and cry against us. 'Tis a sure game we will play. What say you, young sir?"
Cracking the nuts between his fingers, Nial answered without hesitation:
"It likes me not. Your ventures are your own, Messer Paolo, but I have not put my hand to theft yet."
Nial's grandsire had come out of Scotland upon the crusade and, although neither he nor his father had set eyes upon the land of their kin, the boy had been taught the strict code of clean knighthood. Raised as a lord's son in the castle among the Arab peasantry, Nial had never been allowed to forget this code. A crusader's word must stand, and he must back, at need, his word with his weapons. He must take the toll of hazard, and might keep what he could wrest openly from others, his enemies. But to steal would be to cheat his own inner sense of honor.
Tron eyed him warily.
"You have slain a man unknown to you to take his horse, aye, the bay charger which you cherish-yet you will not lift hand to carry off a treasure!"
"The one was fairly done." Nial frowned, stubbornly. He was not skilled in argument. "We were e'en beset by those pagan horsemen who outnumbered us."
"And here we be, two against two hundred thousand! Bethink you, my stripling. 'Tis no placid monastery here, where brother smiles on brother. Nor is it a garden of paradise, as many ignorant ones in the West have dreamed. Here the law is only one-the strong take, and the weak yield. This very Green Lion was reft from Ind by the caliphs, and torn from them by the bloody hands of the khans. Would you say that was fairly done?"
"As to that," Nial responded gravely, "I know not. But to snatch a jewel is foul work, fit for a purse cutter."
"Is it indeed?" The Genoese rose to pace the chamber, with a quizzical smile. He was more certain than ever that Nial was the man he needed. "Think you a mump or scrag nipper could get even a sight of this Green Lion? Think you so? By all the bones upon every altar, I swear that only a warrior dare attempt it. And only a man with courage of steel can do the trick. Now hear how the thing lies."
Stooping, he peered into Nial's face.
"I trust you with this tiding. The Altyn-dar is a place of strong stone, without embrasures within reach of the ground, and with only one entrance. This gate and the walls and corridors are all guarded by picked Tatar soldiers, commanded by an orkhon of Barka Khan. The only others allowed within, upon a signed order of this orkhon or the khan, are rare souls who, like myself, may be called in to judge the worth of jewels, or to repair broken gold work. And they have always two guards within sight, one beside them, and one within the chamber. Moreover, they are searched to the very toenails when they go out."
Thoughtfully the merchant nodded.
"Perhaps a skilled thiever could find his way over the wall of the Altyn-dar-except that it is in the center of the Sarai itself, the palace enclosure where the Tatars are quartered and few others admitted. The Tatars cannot be bribed, and I tell you truly that no thief could force a way in. Nothing has been stolen from the Altyn-dar. Nay, the only way in is the open entrance, without concealment."
"How?" asked Nial gravely.
"By a Tatar warrior, complete in every detail of his armor, and faultless in his bearing."
"But you have said they could not be bribed."
"True. And so my Tatar must needs be another, whom I can trust."
Nial laughed.
"I? Why, I know not a word of their talk."
"Words would not be needed, if this man bears a talisman."
"A talsmin?" Nial used the Arabic word. "A charm? Faith, have you got a cloak of invisibility?"
"Better than that." Eagerness shone in the close-set eyes of the Genoese. "I have made ready something that will admit a Tatar without question. And once within, he would not be watched. He could go where he wished, and could pass out without being searched, carrying the great emerald under his coat. And who would know where to look for him after?"
Nial shook his head
Cracking the nuts between his fingers, Nial answered without hesitation:
"It likes me not. Your ventures are your own, Messer Paolo, but I have not put my hand to theft yet."
Nial's grandsire had come out of Scotland upon the crusade and, although neither he nor his father had set eyes upon the land of their kin, the boy had been taught the strict code of clean knighthood. Raised as a lord's son in the castle among the Arab peasantry, Nial had never been allowed to forget this code. A crusader's word must stand, and he must back, at need, his word with his weapons. He must take the toll of hazard, and might keep what he could wrest openly from others, his enemies. But to steal would be to cheat his own inner sense of honor.
Tron eyed him warily.
"You have slain a man unknown to you to take his horse, aye, the bay charger which you cherish-yet you will not lift hand to carry off a treasure!"
"The one was fairly done." Nial frowned, stubbornly. He was not skilled in argument. "We were e'en beset by those pagan horsemen who outnumbered us."
"And here we be, two against two hundred thousand! Bethink you, my stripling. 'Tis no placid monastery here, where brother smiles on brother. Nor is it a garden of paradise, as many ignorant ones in the West have dreamed. Here the law is only one-the strong take, and the weak yield. This very Green Lion was reft from Ind by the caliphs, and torn from them by the bloody hands of the khans. Would you say that was fairly done?"
"As to that," Nial responded gravely, "I know not. But to snatch a jewel is foul work, fit for a purse cutter."
"Is it indeed?" The Genoese rose to pace the chamber, with a quizzical smile. He was more certain than ever that Nial was the man he needed. "Think you a mump or scrag nipper could get even a sight of this Green Lion? Think you so? By all the bones upon every altar, I swear that only a warrior dare attempt it. And only a man with courage of steel can do the trick. Now hear how the thing lies."
Stooping, he peered into Nial's face.
"I trust you with this tiding. The Altyn-dar is a place of strong stone, without embrasures within reach of the ground, and with only one entrance. This gate and the walls and corridors are all guarded by picked Tatar soldiers, commanded by an orkhon of Barka Khan. The only others allowed within, upon a signed order of this orkhon or the khan, are rare souls who, like myself, may be called in to judge the worth of jewels, or to repair broken gold work. And they have always two guards within sight, one beside them, and one within the chamber. Moreover, they are searched to the very toenails when they go out."
Thoughtfully the merchant nodded.
"Perhaps a skilled thiever could find his way over the wall of the Altyn-dar-except that it is in the center of the Sarai itself, the palace enclosure where the Tatars are quartered and few others admitted. The Tatars cannot be bribed, and I tell you truly that no thief could force a way in. Nothing has been stolen from the Altyn-dar. Nay, the only way in is the open entrance, without concealment."
"How?" asked Nial gravely.
"By a Tatar warrior, complete in every detail of his armor, and faultless in his bearing."
"But you have said they could not be bribed."
"True. And so my Tatar must needs be another, whom I can trust."
Nial laughed.
"I? Why, I know not a word of their talk."
"Words would not be needed, if this man bears a talisman."
"A talsmin?" Nial used the Arabic word. "A charm? Faith, have you got a cloak of invisibility?"
"Better than that." Eagerness shone in the close-set eyes of the Genoese. "I have made ready something that will admit a Tatar without question. And once within, he would not be watched. He could go where he wished, and could pass out without being searched, carrying the great emerald under his coat. And who would know where to look for him after?"
Nial shook his head
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