The Mongoliad Book Three

“Ocyrhoe,” Ferenc said promptly.

 

“Yes,” Frederick said. “I’ve met her. Archetypal urchin, not what I go for. I sent Ocyrhoe and Ferenc to the Septizodium in the company of three normal adults—a Cardinal, a soldier, and a woman. Where are they?” Seeing the priest’s expression, he mentally expressed his displeasure—mainly to keep from profaning God that much in front of the priest—and pointed at Ferenc. “Ask him,” he snapped.

 

The priest and the boy had a brief exchange, as Frederick kept moving the pieces around in his mind. The man had to be deranged, however pacific his exterior behavior.

 

Father Rodrigo turned his attention back to the Emperor. “When they arrived at Saint Peter’s, Ferenc and Ocyrhoe were allowed to have a private audience with me. Ferenc has not seen the others since then. Ocyrhoe stayed behind after she helped us to escape.”

 

“Your story grows more fucking bizarre with each utterance,” Frederick said. “I’ll have to thank Fieschi for the entertainment next time I see him.”

 

“You’re not going to send me back to him, are you?” asked Father Rodrigo, worry darkening his face for the first time.

 

Frederick looked at him and thought about all the possible ways there were to answer that. “Of course not, Your Holiness,” he said at last. He turned and signaled to the boy standing by the entrance of his tent. “Before we discuss what is to happen to you, let’s eat, shall we?” He mimed eating to Ferenc, who perked up and nodded. “It is much easier to make important decisions with a full belly,” he said.

 

Father Rodrigo nodded absently, his empty hands resting lightly on his satchel.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTY

 

 

 

Unexpected Allies

 

 

 

On the other side of the open field, the Mongols massed. They outnumbered the Shield-Brethren at the gate by no small number, but they appeared to be in no hurry to assault the gate again. Behind the roiling mob of infantry, horsemen rode, parading back and forth. Rallying the men, Rutger thought.

 

“That’s a lot of Mongols,” Knútr observed. The blocky Shield-Brethren had lost his helmet during the initial fracas and the right side of his head was sticky with blood. He grinned, and Rutger noticed one of his pupils was larger than the other. “They seem a bit... nervous.”

 

Knútr was correct in his assessment. The Mongol vanguard jeered and shouted at the Shield-Brethren, trying to goad the knights. Rutger didn’t understand any of the insults being shouted, but he was familiar with training-yard bullying. They were afraid, and all the bluster in the world couldn’t hide the fact that their superior numbers were not decisive enough an advantage for them to press the attack.

 

Rutger knew they would come eventually. The men on horseback were shouting at the infantry, whipping them into a frenzy. Calling them cowards, unworthy dogs that were an embarrassment to their Khan. How could they face their families, their fathers, if they ran from this meager band of nameless knights? Rutger knew what was being said. He had used the same words himself. Bolster their courage. Call upon their sense of duty. Inflame their rage.

 

The Mongols would come again. They had no choice in the end.

 

The cart had been hauled to one side of the gate, and the dead horses (along with a number of Mongol corpses) to the other, forming a definite channel around the gate. The Mongols would have to funnel into it in order to attack the Shield-Brethren; it was an ancient tactic that had been used successfully over and over again. Reduce the killing field so as to strip away the enemy’s advantage of numbers.

 

Rutger dimly remembered a siege in the Holy Land—he couldn’t even recall the name of the castle now—that had lasted six weeks. The Muslims breached the wall twice, but each time the defenders had managed to beat the invaders back, inflicting such grievous casualties that the Muslim morale quailed. It took the Muslim Sultan so long to reestablish control of his army that the Christian engineers had been able to reseal the breaches. Eventually reinforcements from Jerusalem had arrived, and the Sultan had fled.

 

Reinforcements. Nodding, Rutger looked over his shoulder, scanning the open ground outside the walls for signs of movement. Where were they?

 

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