October fell chill and early in those uplands, and on the fourth day they came into a sprinkling of snow.At night round the fires the Tartars made merry, for they bad strong drink in many skin bottles, and Aimery was left to his own cold meditations.If he had had any hope, it was gone now, for the escort made it clear that he was their prisoner Judging from the chart of the Genoese, they were not following any road to Cambaluc, and the sight of the sky told him that they were circling round to the south.The few Tartar words he had learned were not enough to communicate with them, and in any case it was clear that they would take no orders from him.He was trapped like a bird in the fowler's hands.Escape was folly, for in an hour their swift horses would have ridden him down.He had thought he had grown old, but the indignity woke his youth again, and he fretted passionately.If death was his portion, he longed for it to come cleanly in soldier fashion.
One night his squire disappeared.The Tartars, when he tried to question them, only laughed and pointed westward.That was the last he heard of the lad from the Boulonnais.
And then on a frosty dawn, when the sun rose red-rimmed over the barrens, he noted a new trimness in his escort.They rode in line, and they rode before and behind him, so that his captivity was made patent.On a ridge far to the west he saw a great castle, and he knew the palace of Houlagou.
His guess had been right; he had been brought back by a circuit to his starting-point.
Presently he was face to face with the Ilkhan, who was hunting.The Greek scribe was with him, so the meeting had been foreseen.The King's face was dark with the weather and his stony eyes had a glow in them.
"O messenger of France," he said, "there is a little custom of our people that I had forgotten.When a stranger warrior visits us it is our fashion to pit him in a bout against one of our own folk, so that if he leaves us alive he may speak well of his entertainment.""I am willing," said Aimery."I have but my sword for weapon.""We have no lack of swordsmen," said the Ilkhan."I would fain see the Frankish way of it."A man stepped out from the ring, a great square fellow shorter by a head than Aimery, and with a nose that showed there was Saracen blood in him.
He had a heavy German blade, better suited for fighting on horseback than on foot.He had no buckler, and no armour save a headpiece, so the combatants were fairly matched.
It was a contest of speed and deftness against a giant's strength, for a blow from the great weapon would have cut deep into a man's vitals.Aimery was weary and unpractised, but the clash of steel gave life to him.He found that he had a formidable foe, but one who lacked the finer arts of the swordsman.The Tartar wasted his strength in the air against the new French parries and guards, though he drew first blood and gashed his opponent's left arm.Aimery's light blade dazzled his eyes, and presently when breath had grown short claimed its due.A deft cut on the shoulder paralysed the Tartar's sword arm, and a breaststroke brought him to his knees.
"Finish him," said the Ilkhan.
"Nay, sire," said Aimery, "it is not our custom to slay a disabled foe."Houlagou nodded to one of his guards, who advanced swinging his sword.The defeated man seemed to know his fate, and stretched out his neck.With a single blow his head rolled on the earth.
"You have some skill of the sword, Frenchman," said the Ilkhan."Hear, now, what I have decreed concerning you.I will have none of this journey to my brother Kublai.I had purposed to slay you, for you have defied my majesty.You sought to travel to Cathay instead of bearing my commands forthwith to your little King.But I am loath to kill so stout a warrior.
Swear to me allegiance, and you shall ride with me against the Caliphs.""And if I refuse?" Aimery asked.
"Then you die ere sundown."
"I am an envoy, sire, from a brother majesty, and of such it is the custom to respect the persons.""Tush!" said the Ilkhan, "there is no brother majesty save Kublai.Between us we rule the world.""Hear me, then," said Aimery.The duel had swept all cobwebs from his brain and doubts from his heart."I am a knight of the Sire Christ and of the most noble King Louis, and I can own no other lord.Do your work, King.I am solitary among your myriads, but you cannot bend me.""So be it," said Houlagou.
"I ask two boons as one about to die.Let me fall in battle against your warriors.And let me spend the hours till sundown alone, for I would prepare myself for my journey.""So be it," said Houlagou, and turned to his hounds.
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