The Silk Road Saga: Part I - Silkworm

38 - The Court of the Doomed and the Damned

Standing on the large balcony atop the tallest tower of the citadel, Yuan was afforded a perfect view of the approaching onslaught. Behind him the Shah and his courtiers chirruped nervously and fluttered their hands across the horizon. Pointing with jewel laden fingers at the endless horde of Mongols, they took bets. Gambling on which tower would fall first, where the walls would be breached and who among them would be taken captive and treated to all manner of yet undreamt of deprivations. The translator was on hand, commanded to instantly translate all conversation so that Yuan, as the Shah's latest pet, wouldn't feel left out.

"Tell us assassin, because we're all dying to know, what's it like to get fucked by another man. You see, I'm making a bet with my cousin that he's going to be taken captive and made Genghis' personal slave" said the Shah, lingering lasciviously over the word personal.

This elicited a titter from the Shah's young cousin, who batted his long dark eyelashes suggestively at Yuan. The Shah touched his cousin on the back, softly, too softly, and sent him stumbling towards Yuan.

"Well assassin?" asked the cousin, touching his hand to Yuan's chest.

Yuan closed his eyes and drew himself up to his full height, flexing his back that had been broadened by decades spent building railways.

"It's like riding a horse my lord, it hurts at first but you soon get used to it, then you can't stop. You'll just want to ride and ride and not stop riding till the horse is dead" replied Yuan, his face deadpan.

"You're so manly, assassin" whispered the cousin before skipping back to the line of courtiers.

Yuan's response had amused the Shah greatly and he was busy repeating the joke to his courtiers as if it was one of his own, even though they had all been within earshot when Yuan told it. Yuan scanned the group assembled on the terrace, the great and the good of Khwarezmia. At least the Party was led by competent men, thought Yuan, ruthless but competent. Khwarezmia, on the other hand, was led by fools and history never suffered fools for long.

There was a mighty crash that shook the foundations of the citadel. There followed a sound that grew louder and louder, rising like wind until it became an unstoppable roar. A hundred thousand voices baying for blood. Yuan felt the noise wash over him like a great wave and with a father's instinct he knew that down there somewhere in that fearsome multitude was his son. He needed to find him. He needed to escape.

The young cousin shrieked with delight and danced around cooing about how he had won the bet. The tower that had crashed to the ground was the one that he had picked and now his uncle owed him a small fortune. The Shah called his scribe to write out a promissory note and he handed it to his cousin with a flourish and a peck on the cheek. The cousin prostrated himself on the floor in thanks and then went to show off his entirely worthless winnings to the court, who crowded around him, keen for some of the special favour shown by the Shah to rub off on themselves. While the courtiers were admiring the promissory note the Shah slunk towards Yuan and joined him at staring out over the doomed city.

"Do you know why I am so calm assassin?" asked the Shah.

"Because you are brave my lord" replied Yuan automatically.

"Haha, me, brave? Not at all. I'm not brave, I'm clever and being clever his worth more than an army of a hundred thousand men. The barbarians think they have me trapped but they're wrong, oh so wrong. You see. I plan to escape from this place through a secret tunnel I had constructed just in case a day such as today were ever to arise. That takes foresight and foresight takes a special sort of genius, don't you agree?" asked the Shah, drawing close.

"Yes, my lord" replied the Yuan.

"I won't be taking everyone with me, just a few special friends. You could be among them if you like" said the Shah, lowering his voice to whisper.

"Thank you, my lord" replied Yuan.

"On one condition, you are to take my cousin down into that filth pit of a city, find those ex-comrades of yours and kill them. How does that sound to you?" asked the Shah.

"Like music to my ears, my lord" replied Yuan.

"Excellent, excellent, I knew from the moment I saw you dangling in the dungeon that you were a man I could rely on" said the Shah.

Clapping his hands together the Shah beckoned over his cousin, breaking him away from the fawning crowd of courtiers. He explained his proposition and watched his cousin's face carefully. The cousin struggled to contain his fear and his face contorted through a dozen different permutations of a forced smile.

"I'm not worthy of this honour uncle" said the cousin.

"Oh, but you are the only one here that I can truly trust. If you do this for me then I will double the money I owe you and throw in our big strapping assassin to boot. Think of all the fun you can have" said the Shah.

The cousin bowed his head in acceptance although Yuan spotted that his left leg was shaking uncontrollably. The Shah struggled to contain his smile as he entrusted his cousin to Yuan's care. This was clearly all part of some game on the Shah's behalf. He was either testing his cousin's loyalty or merely passing the time before he made good on his escape. Boredom is the always the greatest fear of rich and powerful men.

"Let us give a hero's farewell to our brave warriors" announced the Shah.

Once the courtiers were apprised of the plan they clapped even more enthusiastically than before, eagerly approving of the potential death of one of their rivals. The only member of their sorry party who actually looked pleased to be escaping the citadel was the translator. Clearly he favoured his long term prospects down in the besieged city rather than up here with his intemperate master. Two of the Shah's personal guards were to accompany them on their mission and it didn't take a master tactician to work out that a five man party was not going to be a match for twelve deadly assassins. Yuan could only assume that the cousin was now fervently cursing his luck, he really shouldn't have won that bet.

They were each armed with a pathetically small knife, designed to stop them from overpowering the guards rather than kill the assassins, and then they were sent on their way. Down the long spiral staircase they went, one guard in front and one behind. The cousin took his time, taking each step down more slowly than the last, hoping that his uncle would change his mind, but no message of reprieve came. When they reached the secret door to the city the guards shoved them through it, shouted out a few parting words, then promptly shut it. The cousin dropped to his knees and immediately started banging on the door, howling like an abandoned baby. He didn't seem to notice that he was kneeling in a pile of manure that he was gradually sinker deeper and deeper into. The translator skirted past the cousin and came to say a few words to Yuan.

"They told him that he can only return through that door if he brings with him the heads of the twelve assassins. If I were you, I would try and escape the city while you still can. Personally, I'm going to give myself up to the Mongols. I was part of the trade delegation sent here by Genghis, the one that the Shah was foolish enough to execute. That should secure my safe passage, you're more than welcome to join me" said the translator, clearly wanting the extra protection that having Yuan by his side would afford.

Before Yuan could formulate a response, there was another almighty crash. This time the roar of the horde was accompanied by terrified moan that whipsawed across the city. The walls had been breached, the Mongols were coming.