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  David's brow creased with puzzlement, as he translated again. The knight laughed.

  "No," the knight replied in terrible Mongol. "Is child's sing. I make him teachings of Church."

  David blushed a deep crimson, but raised his chin. "My knight is giving me religious instruction, and he taught me the first hymn all children are taught, and it was the first thing that came into my mind. I couldn't remember the battle hymns, but I could remember this."

  Tortoise Orkhan came into the firelight, and caught the last of David's words.

  "The song? The boy is right, it's one of the first hymns any of our children are taught. They say Saint Hypatia—she was a sort of holy person, like a shaman of shamans—wrote it herself. I think it must have been translated into every language we've ever come across, which is why every Christian knows it." His brows knitted for a moment. "It's about how everyone of good will, no matter what face of God they worship, is united in the eyes of God. I'm no poet, but I'll try a translation for one of the stanzas."

  His eyes closed for a moment, then sang softly.

  "From lands of endless ice and snow, to sand-filled desert winds that blow, all men of good beneath the sun, hold this pure truth that we are one."

  "It goes on like that for three or four verses, each one ending in 'we are one,'" said David. "I like it. I don't care if it is for children."

  "Things for children are inclined to be very pure," the shaman said gravely. "Simple is not bad. The simplest things are likely to be quite profound."

  He could well imagine that a saint had put her hand to those words. Even in translation, they had power.

  Not enough power, however. So. Kaltegg studied the boy David. This one would bear watching, he thought.

  Chapter 84

  The waiting game, decided Dana, was not one that she was well suited to. Everyone, including the wyverns, was away at the war. Dana hadn't liked her first brush with killing. She'd actually been very glad to agree that it would be wise for her to stay here, in Berek. But now she was bored and worried. She learned from the villagers that Vlad rode down to the Mongol encampment quite often. So, accompanied by three wary guards, she did the same. It too was full of women, waiting . . .

  Including Bortai. Dana had really bound to the Mongol Princess in the time from their traumatic meeting in Elizabeth's castle to the taking of Irongate, and their return to Berek.

  Bortai was also finding the waiting hard. "Khutulun rode with her father's generals. I think I should too," she'd said. And then had to explain why she couldn't, who Khutulun was and from there, it was a short step to Erik, and what he was doing, and more importantly, wasn't doing. And what her brother had said. And . . .

  Dana found herself trying to comfort someone who was probably ten years older than herself. And who was a lot more worried about Erik than she'd admitted to anyone else.

  "He's . . ." Bortai fumbled for words. "I'm stuck in a stupid practical joke that everyone in the entire Golden Horde thinks is hilariously funny. And the worst part is I think that I will have to stay in it. Erik . . . I think if he knew that I was a princess . . . that I have a bride's portion of many horses and flocks, he'd run away. He has told me so often that he was worried about what Svanhild's family back in Vinland would think of her bringing home a near penniless Icelander." She sniffed, defiantly. "I'd have him in the clothes he stood in. And half of the Golden Horde women would have him out them before he could open his mouth to protest. And now I don't even know if he's alive. I should have told him that I loved him."

  "He's alive," said a voice behind them.

  Bortai turned, and had a knife out, pushed Dana back so fast that Dana hardly had time to squawk her own surprise.

  "Come out," said Bortai to the dark back of the ger.

  "Phiss. What are you going to do with that little knife? Steel's no good on us. It needs to be stone and magic at that."

  Dana stamped her foot. "Come out. It's a wyvern, Bortai. You know. The creatures we have a pact with. They can make themselves very hard to see. But they won't hurt us."

  "Might eat you," said the Wyvern, gradually appearing out of the darker area of the ger. Dana knew it had been there all along, but looked like it was coalescing out of the shadows.

  "No you won't," said Dana. "Have you been at the battle?"

  The wyvern shrugged its wings. "A lot of magic. The shaman is good at it."

  "My brother . . ."

  "Is alive. His usual happy self. And so is Erik, and so is her brother," said the wyvern. "They sent me to tell you. But it does bring me to ask some questions about mating among you humans."

  Dana hugged it. So did Bortai.

  "I don't think we can cross the species line," said the wyvern. "Besides. I think I am female. I wanted to ask you about mating."

  "I know a lot about breeding horses," said Bortai, grinning with relief. "And that is quite revealing."

  Dana was more tenacious. "Have they won? And when will they be back?"

  "They hanged someone called Emeric. And the clans are chasing down the northerners. They've crossed the Dniestr, I was told to tell you. Now about this breeding. Is it necessary to mate with one's brother? We've been looking at you humans and wondering."

  Bortai looked startled. "It's not a good idea. Well, we do it sometimes with horses, and dogs. But new bloodlines strengthen the animals . . . And humans just shouldn't."

  "We become a little more human with sharing of the blood. Still, we only have one chance to breed. There were many of us, once. But we are few now. We are the only two left here."

  "Explain?"

  So the wyvern did.

  Both women were left silenced and discomforted.

  Finally Dana asked: "Isn't there another way?"

  "Not that I know of. But I don't know everything . . . yet," said the Wyvern.

  * * *

  Three days later the knights came limping back, accompanied by the surviving Székelers, and the mounted infantry. The wagons and the rest of the infantry were heading back into Valahia by a less steep route to the north.

  The Mongol followed five days later, full of victory and loot, after a sweep that had taken the Golden Horde as far as the Bug river. They reported seeing ships flying the winged lion at anchor off Odessa.

  Erik had come through the entire encounter with no worse than dented armor. And yet he was a troubled man. He finally went to talk to Manfred about it. "Am I fickle?" he asked.

  Manfred smothered a snort. He didn't even try to pretend that he didn't know what Erik was talking about. "About as fickle as a whale-fish is small, Erik. Go and propose to her."

  "I'm not exactly sure how to do this among the Mongols."

  Manfred slapped him on the back. "I'll find out for you. Leave it to me. I have contacts."

  Erik closed his eyes. "I shudder to think."

  "Trust me," said Manfred. "The Great Khan himself speaks to me."

  "You can't get Bortai to translate!"

  "No. I'll take young David."

  "That is worse! I mean . . . look what he got me into last time."

  "He got her to notice and like you," said Manfred cheerfully. "What you may not know, and I do, is that she's a very popular woman. Had scores of suitors."

  "I would think every man in the lands of the Golden Horde has tried. She's exceptional," said Erik, earnestly.

  "Well, personally I'd advise you to run, and to run now," said Manfred, grinning. "She's got a tongue on her that could skin an ox."

  "Good. I prefer them without skin," said a sibilant voice.

  They both had their swords out. "Wyvern," said Erik, with relief. "Back there. What are you doing here, beast? Go back to Prince Vlad. Or his sister."

  "Learning about human courtship. Dana sent me to find out just what you were doing."

  Manfred snorted. "Everyone knows your business, Erik. Let me go and find David. Relax. Von Stael has quite reformed him."

  Erik groaned. "Only with Von Stael, Manfred." He look
ed at the wyvern. It was not a very large creature, but he'd seen just how deadly it could be. "Are you going to go away too?"

  "No," said the creature. "I thought I'd stay here and tell you a Mongol tale."

  Erik was about to protest. "It is Bortai's favorite. Actually, it is the Golden Horde's favorite story. It's their founding myth you might say." The wyvern preened. "I am a creature of myth. It's important to understand them I think."

  "There is sometimes a grain of truth in them . . . somewhere," admitted Erik, curious.

  "Oh yes. Somewhere. Most of the story is usually wrong," said Wyvern.

  "But they tell you how people think. Tell you about the culture."

  "And pass the time between meals," said the Wyvern.

  "Are you going to tell me this story or aren't you?" asked Erik sitting down. It beat pacing and waiting for Manfred.

  "The story of Princess Khutulun and Ulaghchi."

  "So they were real characters? Ulaghchi was the Great Khan. In what the Golden Horde feel was their golden age."

  "Indeed. It is a song-poem. It goes like this . . ."

  Erik listened. It was indeed a compelling story.

  And when it was done, the wyvern faded away, blending its opalescent scales with the background and disappearing like a morning mist.

  Erik shook himself. It had been a magical experience . . . well, it had been. He was aware that he'd heard snatches of the song before. It was obviously popular. And certainly held some clues as to how some people got married . . . Back then.

  "Daydreaming?" said Manfred, grinning and smelling of wine. "You have to go and see the her brother, Erik. David will take you."

  Erik had never attempted to find out where Bortai lived. It was, however, exactly as he imagined: a simple, neat ger, with simple poor possessions. Every single person in the entire encampment, however, seemed to be between him and his destination. Grinning at him. There were even some of the Great Khan's Khesig hanging about, throwing bones near the ger. They were not the most soundproof structures on earth, Erik reflected as Kildai, playing host, gave him Kumiss.

  Erik did not last very long at the politeness. "Kildai," he swallowed. The boy was fourteen, and the impudent David, who hadn't gone away, perhaps a year older. "I want to marry your dau . . . sister."

  David sniggered. But Kildai nodded seriously. "You realize that she does not have a very big bride portion," he said.

  "I would take her if she had nothing at all," said Erik. "It's not important to me, if she'll have me."

  Kildai looked thoughtful. "That doesn't seem a very provident thing to do. I do expect you to look after her. She would not be content to dine on vegetables like a Vlachs slave. Will you be able to feed her? And you do know that she snores? Especially when she drinks too much."

  * * *

  Bortai had been sitting talking to Dana, when the Wyvern arrived as silently as only it could. "He is talking to your brother."

  Both of them stood up headed towards the great ger. "Not in there," said the Wyvern. "In some little store tent at the far side of the camp. My brother is listening to them."

  Bortai arrived there, scattering people, curious, sniggering people trying to listen in. Just in time to hear her brother, prompted by his little friend no doubt, tell Erik that she snored.

  "This has gone on long enough," she said angrily, bursting in. "Stop it. He's a good man . . ."

  Kildai laughed. So by the sounds of it did half the audience outside.

  "They are playing a practical joke on you, Erik. It is my fault."

  He smiled at her. "I snore too."

  Kildai stood up. He was still smiling. "All right, sister."

  He faced Erik. "As her brother, you have my permission to pay court to her. But . . ." he held up a hand, looking much older than his years, "You will also need the permission of the Great Khan of the Golden Horde. And he is different person to me."

  "But . . .!" protested Bortai.

  "No buts," said Kildai, firmly. "Erik is not of the clan, not of the people. You are a very important person to me, to the clan. He must go and ask." He looked every inch a Khan, and she was proud of him, even if he was playing games with her. There was an element of payback there, she had to admit. Some of it was . . . fair. "I will see you in the ger of the Great Khan. You may want to ask your Khan Manfred to come and stand as your friend," he said to Erik.

  Erik nodded. "Bortai . . ."

  "Go," said Kildai, sternly above her protest.

  * * *

  Erik went back to Manfred's ger.

  "We can't have you going like that," said Manfred looking at him. "I've a spare cotte. And Falkenberg. Come and trim his hair."

  It took quite a while before Erik was considered ready. Manfred seemed to be in no hurry about it.

  They walked together up the hill toward the great felt tent. People cheered. Manfred waved a lordly hand. Erik just walked.

  The ger was a huge structure, needing whole trees for support. It was full. But people moved aside to let them pass.

  Erik and Manfred came at last to the Great Khan's dias, and his chair. There, standing next to it, was Bortai. Looking as if she would either burst into tears, rip someone's ears off, or turn and run. Her face was very pale.

  The Great Khan, dressed as befitted his station, looked at Erik.

  "You're supposed to bow," said Manfred, prodding him.

  Erik wondered whether he should turn and run. But he looked at Bortai instead. She looked as if she was going to faint. She was holding onto Vlad's little sister. So he smiled at her. And bowed respectfully to Kildai.

  "You may advance," said the General of Khesig, Pakai.

  They walked forward.

  Kildai smiled. "Erik Hakkonsen. I have spoken to your Khan. I conferred with the Khans of the various clans, with my generals, and with my war-shaman. I have not forgotten that when every man's hands were raised against us, you stood as our friend. You did not know who we were, and you expected no reward. Your honor is a bright beacon." He stood up and walked over to Erik. "You are supposed to kneel," he said quietly.

  Erik did. Kildai kissed him on both cheeks. "Let all of the Clans of the Golden Horde, know that this man is now one of us. To strike a blow against him, is to strike a blow against the Hawk Clan, the people of Golden Horde."

  The people in the ger—and, by the sounds of it, right across the camp joined in the pounding of shields and cheering.

  Eventually Kildai held up his hand for silence.

  Erik had had time to think. Time to look at Bortai. Time to understand what the wyvern had said to him, and what it meant to the Golden horde. And more importantly, what it meant to Bortai.

  "Now," said Kildai. "You had something to ask me about the Princess Bortai."

  Erik shook his head slowly.

  The vast ger was still.

  "No," he said. "I have spoken to her brother, Great Khan. Now I must challenge her."

  Kildai beamed. "You are one of us! But so far seven men have tried. They wagered a hundred horses, as is tradition. I think a few more might also have been that courageous, but that is a lot of horses."

  "Khutulun's suitor wagered a thousand horses," said Erik. He noticed that David was also there, grinning, and whispering a translation to Manfred.

  There were murmurs. Smiles. The people seemed pleased that he knew the story.

  * * *

  "But I do not have a thousand horses," she heard Erik say.

  Bortai was as tense as drawn bowstring. Her gut was twisted up in a knot around her heart . . .

  "Hell's teeth, Erik. I'm good for a thousand horses," said Manfred expansively. "Make it a thousand and one. I can't have you outdone by some other fellow. I will stake you a thousand and one horses, my friend. Any day and any time."

  Someone translated. The crowd were silenced. A thousand and one horses! That put the wealth of the foreigner at a level that most Mongol could not dream of. That the foreign Khan put such a value on the Tortoise Orkha
n was quite a revelation.

  Erik stood still for a few moments, aware that he was being watched by most of the flower of Golden Horde Clans. Slowly he shook his head.

  Bortai felt the bottom drop out of her world.

  "No!" he said. "I will only wager what I have. And that I will do."

  "And what is that?" asked Kildai.

  "I said, Great Khan: I will wager what I have. Everything."

  There was a stunned silence.

  "It's not much. My horse. My gear. My land. Myself. My life if need be."

  He turned to Bortai as if there were not several thousand people watching. As if they were the only people there. "Will you accept my wager?"

  Bortai, for the first time in a lifetime of telling people exactly what to do, found that she had no voice. She sniffed determinedly. Maybe he knew the story. But it didn't matter. She knew Erik. He said from the heart, with absolute and utter conviction. He knew and understood the honor he was giving her, here, before the assembled clans. It would be remembered. It should be remembered. She still found her voice was weak. But she could nod, and say 'yes', so quietly that only he could hear.

  The clans, however, could see the nod. "Fight!" the chant began.

  "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

  * * *

  The center of the ger was cleared. Erik faced Bortai. And he really did not know what to expect.

  He learned quickly enough. Wrestling is a matter of strength among some people. Among the Mongol nobility, it was a martial art—as well as marital one. It was about using your opponent's weight and strength. And, however Bortai felt about him, she was not going to give him an easy time of it. Fortunately, he knew how to land and how to get up again. And she wasn't actually trying to kill him. After a few minutes, Erik was glad of that, and stopped remembering that his opponent was both smaller than him, and a woman. Instead he fought to survive, and hopefully, to win. Fortunately, the school of skills she had did not entirely match his own . . . of course that also meant that she knew throws that he didn't.

  * * *

  Bortai's heart sang. At last she'd found a man who . . . understood. Understood the balance between honor, duty and love. And, what was more, could wrestle. The honor he given her had to be repaid. She certainly could not lose easily.