Casca 34: Devil's Horseman by Tony Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

by that troop. Ten Arbans made up a squadron of a hundred men called a Jagun, their commander being elected by the Arban commanders. In turn, ten Jaguns made up a regiment of a thousand men the Mongols called a Minghan, led by a Noyan appointed by the Khan, and ten Minghans made up a division, called a Tumen, again led by a Noyan appointed by the Khan.
    Most of the soldiers of the army were mounted archers, but there were also the shock troops, heavy lancers, and more recently introduced a corps of engineers, many of whom were captives from China and Persia.
    Kaidur smiled into the winds. “Ah! It is good once more to be on the open steppe rather than slowly rot in a city. I prefer to live like this, feeling free and not suffocated in that stinking place. You truly have done me a service in taking me with you. I shall enjoy once more being a part of the army, conquering more of the known world. If I am to die, then I will be happier that it is in battle, rather than shitting myself mindlessly in old age, not knowing who I am, let alone anyone else!”
    Casca laughed. He knew what Kaidur meant. The warrior wasn’t that old, yet he was old enough to have already lived longer than many Mongols who took part in the great wars. Kaidur was one of the traditionalists, unlike the newer Mongols who were now coming through. This newer generation had many who had been born in cities and were used to living there, rather than in the wilds in tents. The traditionalists looked down on them, saying they were soft and weak. Casca thought they had a point; urban life did take the edge off the harsh behavior the nomadic peoples displayed. Casca wondered if he was witnessing yet again what had happened to many in the past; a vibrant, energetic race who at first carried all before them, yet when they were absorbed into the city life they became soft and corrupt and fell from grace.
    Still, there were enough of the old order around yet to prevail.
    They were six weeks into their journey when they at last came upon others. A group of horseman saw them and changed direction, fanning out into a wide arc as they approached. Casca stopped and motioned to Kaidur and the others to remain still. The approaching riders were Mongols and were armed to the teeth. Any stupid move would result in all the party being cut down in a blink of an eye.
    Casca slowly moved forward and waited at the head of the party. The Mongols formed up on three sides and covered them with strung bows, arrows waiting to be loosed on command. The patrol commander examined Casca critically. “Your name, and purpose in being here?”
    “Casca-Badahur, wishing to meet up with his old comrade in arms Subedei.”
    The Mongol sat up in his saddle and his eyes almost popped out of his skull. “You mock me? You mock the great history of my people? You will die slowly for such words.”
    “I speak the truth. Subedei will confirm my words are true. We have ridden from Samarkand since the summer to be with him. We are tired and hungry.”
    The commander chewed on his mustache. He was in a quandary; he could kill this foreigner now and be done with it, or take him to the camp and pass the problem onto his Noyan. As there were but few of the group he decided it was safe to take the latter course. “You will follow us. Any false move from any of you and you will all die.”
    “Of course,” Casca said. He’d expected nothing else. The good thing with dealing with these people was that they were consistent and reliable. You behaved and did as you were told or you’d die. At least, he would be ‘killed’ for a day or so before coming back to life. But he also had the responsibility of the lives of the others behind him, and besides, he didn’t particularly want to come round in the middle of a vast open plain with nothing other than soiled and ruined clothing on and no armor, weapons or equipment. It would be a long walk to anywhere.
    So they made their way across the grasslands towards