The Mongoliad: Book One

draw pilgrims, penitents who seek solace in the wake of the armies of the Great Khan. It is the sort of place a man such as yourself might go, having survived the ordeal you have been through.”

Illarion nodded. “Yes, that is a role I can play.”

“Take Raphael, Percival, and Roger. They are your escort,” Feronantus said, the plan decided. “We will follow at pace, after we ascertain the intelligence of our pursuer.”

CHAPTER 24: THE BRAWL AT THE BRIDGE

Hans’s deputy told them the priest was not going to visit the Shield-Brethren alone, but in the company of two Livonian Knights. Their destination lay across the river and past the battlefields where the armies of Christendom had been defeated by the Mongols—a route that, even after a few months, was not safe for a solitary priest. As they were making the trip on horseback, they would have to travel to the west—to reach the bridge that had been built over the river—before they could swing north.

If they wanted to intercept the priest, they would do well to do so before he reached the bridge. Hans, with a smile, informed Kim that he knew a shortcut.

Hans led Kim on an utterly confusing footrace through the seediest of the seedy places that filled the bulk of the makeshift slum: past impromptu drink houses (so denoted by patchwork roofs of canvas strung haphazardly between the remnants of ruined walls), slipping and dodging the pools of filth and waste strewn in the back; through fields of ragged tents, laid nearly atop one another; across blackened fields that were still nothing more than mud and ash, filled with piles of detritus and scrap that were the refuse of the refuse diggers.

Kim was not surprised such routes existed through the city; all natives quickly learned the most expedient way to travel from one location to another. He knew many similar routes through Byeokrando, in fact, and had surprised a number of rough characters on several occasions by suddenly appearing in front of them when they thought they had left him behind. He followed Hans closely, trying to step where the youth stepped, matching the handholds as they clambered over piles of trash and rubble.

Before long, Kim began to get glimpses of Pius and the two knights through the clutter of tents and lean-tos. The escorts’ mounts were less bowlegged than the mule Pius was riding. Beneath their surcoats—emblazoned with the red cross and sword they had seen on the standard—the knights wore mail shirts that extended past their waists. Their gauntlets were stiffened leather, and their helms were short cones of metal with crosspieces running across the front and extending down over their noses. They wore swords on their belts and each carried a long spear—a pole longer than his staff and topped with a pointed blade several inches long.

Kim nudged Hans as the young man slowed down, pointing ahead of them toward where the slum thinned out. The bridge, exhibiting all the hallmarks of Mongolian engineering, was a choke point controlled by the Khan. Kim would not be surprised if there was a levy collected on all travelers who used it; Onghwe Khan knew that most travelers would submit to parting with a few coins versus fording the narrow river on their own. Such methods of taxation had become an integral part of the Great Khan’s empire. And anywhere money was collected, there would be security—at least an arban of Mongolian troops who would be much more rigorous in their duties than the lazy soldiers guarding the camp.

If he was going to catch up with Pius, he had to do it before the priest reached the bridge.

Hans nodded, understanding the need, and altered his route accordingly. After leaping over a foul-smelling trench of shit and piss, they skirted a copse of scraggly pine trees that ran close to the road. The road kinked slightly at the trees, and there was a small stretch of ground where the view from the bridge was partially blocked.

Useful, just in case the conversation wasn’t entirely peaceful.

Hans hung back, hiding among the trees, while Kim stepped into the path of the oncoming riders and planted his staff on the ground. “Pius,” he called. “A word, if you please.”

The three riders were startled, and Kim noticed that the knight on his right had trouble controlling his horse. The animals were skittish, not bred for combat.

“Ki…Kim,” Father Pius said. “I have not completed my errands.” His eyes tracked back and forth between the two knights flanking him.

“Yes, Pius, I know,” Kim said. “When we met, I asked you to deliver my note to the men who wore the red rose.” He took a few steps closer to the trio as he used his staff to point to the knight on his left. “While that mon is red, it is not a rose. It looks not unlike that cross you wear about your own neck.”

“They…ah…” Father Pius nervously played with the reins of his mule. “They are my escort. Not every road is safe for a man of God.”

“I see,” Kim said. He was even closer now. If he stayed too far from the knights, they could charge him, and while the ground was open enough that he might be able to evade the thrusts of their spears, a running fight against a man on horseback was a foolish battle for a man on foot. It was much better to be in close, where the benefit of being on a horse was lessened. Especially a horse that was not trained for combat. “And when you went to these men, did you only ask for their aid, or did you discuss another matter?”

From the way Father Pius blanched, Kim had his answer, but he gave no outward indication other than to relax his grip on his staff. The one on the left, he thought.

Pius flapped his reins. “Out of my way,” he snorted, trying to goad his mule into motion, but the animal showed no sign of budging.

The knight closest to Kim leaned forward and jabbed his spear at Kim, lending a martial imperative to the priest’s command. Kim whipped up his staff as he took a deep step forward, batting the tip of the spear to the outside. The knight’s arm was above Kim’s head, an unnatural and exposed position to be in during a spear fight, and Kim jabbed the tip of his staff deep into the mounted man’s exposed armpit.

The knight recoiled, his spear flopping in his suddenly weak grip. He tried to bring the point back to bear on Kim. Kim whipped his staff to his left, smacking the knight’s arm hard, and then flipped the tip to the right—left hand forward and down, right hand drawing back—connecting solidly with the side of the knight’s head.

The whole exchange happened so quickly that it seemed to be one fluid reaction to the knight’s thrust with his spear. Pius’s mule, still being reluctant to respond to its rider’s commands, started in surprise as the knight fell off his horse with a chingling thud. The other knight swore and kicked his own horse in the ribs, trying to get into a better position. He charged Kim, thrusting with his spear, but Kim was already moving to put the riderless horse between them.

The knight charged off into the fallow pasture beside the road, getting enough distance from Kim that he could turn his animal safely. Far enough to generate some speed on his return, making his mount an effective weapon as well. Not a bad tactic.

Kim picked up the fallen knight’s spear and took a moment to turn and poke Pius’s mule with the tip. Not enough to wound the animal, but enough to make it react. The mule reared, dumping Pius on the ground, and Kim turned his attention to the remaining knight.

The knight’s horse was still skittish, and when he didn’t charge immediately, Kim glanced over at the knight he had unseated, and seeing he was conscious, he stepped over and smacked the man in the head with the butt of his spear. Stay down.

The knight abandoned his horse. The animal was too uncontrollable, and Kim was surrounded by supine bodies and other animals. There was no advantage to charging into that mix. On the ground, at least, they would be more equally classed. He approached Kim cautiously, his spear held in a grip that positioned the weapon across his body—butt near his head, point directed at the ground. It didn’t seem that aggressive of a stance, and so Kim remained still, the tip of his spear pointed at his approaching adversary. Waiting for him to make a move.

As the knight came closer, he raised his tip slightly, and then he came on in a rush, beating Kim’s point aside to clear the line for a thrust. Kim, moving more quickly, stepped into the man’s attack—past the lazy point that