Adventure Magazine Cover — page 172: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

for gold. That is the word that is ever in _ the mouths of your breed.’”” Michael stiffened, knowing that Rudolfo ’ must have tried to betray the plans of Tam- erlane. He thought, too, of the mercenary Comneni, of the grasping emperor and the Venetians who had sent to plunder the khan. Then there came to his mind the vision | of the chivalry of France who had thrown 4 away their lives with reckless bravery in the crusade against Bayezid. And he thought of the Christian graves that marked the cities of Palestine where the knights of the cross had struggled vainly with the con- quering Saracen. This he did not try to explain to the Tatar, knowing that it was useless. “See,’ said the young Tatar again; “the standard advances. The wolf has shaken the dogs from his flanks.” Michael saw that the masses of Tatars that had been stationary were moving for- ward now. It was almost imperceptible at first, this hive-like movement of men wait- ing grimly to slay. Tamerlane’s center had stood fast for three hours. Bayezid’s last attack had been broken. = What the chivalry of Europe could not _. do, the Lame Conqueror and his Horde had done. To Michael this was a strange thing. Where was then the power of God? Hunger and the nervous suspense of the last hours had made his mind clear and unnaturally alert. He found that he was _ dwelling upon some words of a woman who had taught him wisdom before he became a man. “The ways of God are past our knowing,” his mother had said. He wondered if she were reading from the Book wherein she had found these words, and smiling as she did, alone in her room in the tower of the seacoast. She had smiled like that when his father’s ships brought in word of new conquests of the Moslems on the borders of Europe. It did not seem to Michael to be a strange thing that the strongest faith should be in the hearts of women, who knew nothing of warfare. This had passed through his thoughts al- most subconsciously while he watched the battle. Now the dust curtain thickened, cutting off his view. There was a pound- ing of hoofs and shapes that looked like Nae fhe ies eo : The Grand Cham 171 birds crossed in front of Mirza Rustem and a man shouted something. Then they were gone, wheeling toward the Mongol right. Michael spoke to a Tatar squatted upon the ground sharpening his sword. ““Beduins—our men,’’ he announced to Bembo, a new note of eagerness in his voice. “Be of good cheer, cousin esquire. Five regiments of Sipahis have been surrounded and are doomed in yonder mélée. The Janis- series are reforming. Presently will we, God willing, bear our hand to the fray.” “{T am well content here,” rejoined Bembo sincerely. “San Marco——”’ Almost at his ear a hideous clamor of kettle-dsums and cymbals broke out. The jester clapped his hands to his head, only to see the standard of Mirza Rustem raised and the masses of Tatar horsemen move for- ward at a walk. Michael touched spurs. to his pony and Bembo sighed deeply. He looked longingly toward the rear where the leopard had fled, only to see lines of broad grim faces advanc- ing and shaggy horses swarming together like bees. ei throbbed over the plain of Angora, summoning the Mongols to attack. Whereupon every warrior of Tamerlane who could hold himself upon his feet ran or galloped forward. Some, who could not stand unaided, grasped. the stirrups of the riders and struck out with their free arms. And it was upon the checked and dis- heartened array of the Janisseries, ordered to charge a second time, that the Horde advanced. Defeated on both flanks, half his men slaughtered, and half of the rest staggering from wounds or thirst, the Thun- derbolt ordered the flower of his veteran host to drive again at Tamerlane’s center —only to be met by the picked horsemen of the Mongols, held in reserve until then under Mirza Rustem. The Janisseries, shouting their war-cry, met the oncoming tide, wavered and broke up into scattered squares that melted away into mounds of dying and dead. Michael, fighting beside the Chatagais, glimpsed the body of Gutchluk outstretched on the earth beside a mangled horse. The long hair of the Tatar was matted with blood and his black eyes stared up blindly at the passing riders. Then through the dust Michael made out THE sound of the Tatar mnacars oO Eomichoo <SHiGO