made of skin patches and old blankets. They cooked floury soup in caldrons over the fire, baked edible roots on coals. Thomas put out the meat and dainties that Merefans had given them for the trip and laughed, as he saw the eyes of children and adults widen with delight.
The rescued girl, her name was Iguanda, kept at Thomas’s side, watching him with loving eyes. Oleg smirked. A grand-niece, as he had calculated on his fingers, was a rather high degree of kinship on the maternal line (Uryupins and Jews used to count kinship that way).
Thomas was angry: he was left to drowning in a teacup again while the wonderer stayed apart, sitting by the fire, drinking sour wine with Uryupins, listening to their stories.
Irritated by those talks, Thomas stood up and walked away, around the camp. As a war professional, he noticed how the carts were put and arms disposed.
In the middle of the camp, he saw some ancient ruins almost buried in sand. He felt them, told the wonderer with surprise, “Looks like there had once been a sanctuary. Or even a capital city! These ragged men could have been an ancient and wise nation, like Chaldeans, but gone wild, couldn’t they? But what power could destroy these walls? They are of granite slabs, not burnt clay!”
“What a difference,” Oleg muttered.
“Big,” Thomas objected. “Once a blunder like that began such a… Saracens say Iblis was an angel who refused to bow to Adam. ‘You made me of fire and him of earth,’ he told God and was chucked down, head over heels, from the heaven. And what came of it? Since that time, Iblis hates men and keeps doing harm to them. You must remember what that damned one did to us!”
Oleg was surprised. “You are Christian! How can Iblis harm you? He’s a devil of Muslims!”
“How can he?” Thomas was insulted. It seemed to him that the wonderer suspected him in cowardice. “Just like Satan and his! He
Oleg glanced with interest at Thomas taking a drinking bowl from the chieftain’s hands, saying something, touching his heart, then his forehead before he drunk from the bowl.
When there were two of them again, Oleg asked venomously, “Won’t you get it hot?”
“From whom?” Thomas wondered.
“From the god of yours.”
“What for?”
“For your bowing, I dare say, to the god of others.”
Thomas gave him a patronizing look, replied in a condescending voice. “Sir wonderer… you know much but not everything. Probably you haven’t travelled enough. A single god… a single face of God, I mean, is known to those who have never got off their stove, as you’d say. And I have been to many… And I know: when God comes to a new land, He, to be better understood, speaks their tongue, puts on their clothes, or even adopts a local name! Different people have different ways. Let them have it, if only those are ways of goodness, knightly valor, and justice. I know that we call the name of Christ, the Saracen — of Allah, some other people — of Buddha… but we call the same God! Besides, I don’t bow. I just salute to the Supreme Lord.”
PART II
Chapter 21
When the sky began to go dark, fires were lit even outside the defensive ring of carts. Camels and horses were grazed and guarded on the other side of the stream, while people had a poor but merry feast in the middle of the camp.
Thomas and Oleg pleaded tiredness and went into the tent allocated to them. Thomas took off his armor with relief, wanted to put his two-handed sword into a corner, but there were no corners, so he put it in the head of the bed, following the wonderer’s example. Oleg stripped off, lay down with enjoyment. “A ship tomorrow! I love sea. Though my people know mostly steppes, as they previously knew woods… Or maybe the sea laps in the blood of Slavs?”
“There’s only wine that laps in my head,” Thomas moaned. “How would they mount camels?”
“You can grip at the camel’s humps. But if you fall, the way down is longer!”
Thomas collapsed on the bed, tossed and turned for a while. He started to snore when the curtain was removed silently and Samoth entered the tent. The chieftain’s face was confused, he fiddled with his shirt torn on the breast. “Excuse me, dear guests, for I bother you, but we have news. Riders came from the Great Sultan.”
Thomas alerted, felt the bag with the cup in the head of his bed. Oleg said nothing, looked at the chieftain searchingly.
“They say two extremely dangerous outlaws have managed an escape from his prison.”
“Come on,” Thomas hurried him up.
“They described the appearance and distinctive marks of… Of the two of you.”
Thomas tensed and pulled his sword closer. “What did you tell them?” Oleg asked.
“What I could? But one of mine told them at once that both men whose marks fit are in our camp. As our guests. And the riders demanded us to give you up!”
“Come,” Thomas urged him on.
Samoth put his hand in his bosom, scratched himself there, caught something and squeezed in his strong nails. “I don’t think they came from Sultan,” he said in a dull voice.
“Why?” Thomas asked quickly.
“Sultan would not demand of those who are not his subjects. Neither his tributaries. Uryupins submit to no one! We are a free nation.” He burst with laughter, threw out his thin chest proudly. Thomas kept his hand on the sword hilt, glanced around, listened, cast slantwise glances at Oleg. “I exposed them at once. And they had to confess they came from afar but not from the Sultan. They said you were condemned to be quartered in Persia, burnt in India, buried alive in Moesia, lapidated in Judea, crucified in Constantinople… And to something in other places I don’t recall. Guilty of corruption of minors, sacrilege, incest, destruction of the temple of Silul…”
Thomas shook his head. “I’d need more than one life to do all of it! Maybe the wonderer did? He’s older and has been everywhere.”
Oleg thought for a while, scratched the back of his head warily. “Have I ever ruined the temple of Silul? At that time, I was on the other end of Lanka!”
The chieftain nodded with relief. “I knew they were exaggerating. Besides, preventing men from leading the life they want is none of our concerns. We never interfere the rites of others. Our gods put it clearly: you shall not impede!”
“Did they leave?” Thomas asked in a constrained voice. He kept his sword.
“They told us the reward for your heads. Stated in rupees, dinars, guldens, golden rings, ostrich feathers, ivory bone, even in some kunas… A sack of gold for each of you, to put it shortly.”
They felt a cold blow in the close hot air within the tent. A man would kill easily for a coin, even no gold one.
“The Seven?” Thomas said, gasping for air. Oleg nodded. “What did you decide?” Thomas asked Samoth in a heavy voice.
The chieftain looked aside, his face embarrassed. “Such important matters… when all the tribe is concerned… I should discuss with the elder. Even with all of my people.” He backed out from the tent.
