Imperial Fire

IXX

One look at the girl and Lucas was smitten. He was collecting firewood when she landed, moving as gracefully as a cat walking along a fence. The wood dropped in a heap from his hands. He goggled, her filthy and ragged camisole flashing glimpses of slim, shapely legs and accentuating her breasts and hips. Her neck was as elegant as a swan’s, her face crowned by a nest of dark curls, her large hooded eyes the green of ilex leaves. Her long, delicately arched nose only emphasised her aristocratic bearing.

Gorka elbowed him. ‘Don’t even think about it. The general paid six solidi for her.’

‘What for? I mean, is she his woman?’

Gorka pushed back his hat, somewhat at a loss. ‘He doesn’t allow us to take sweethearts on campaign, and he wouldn’t break the rules to suit himself. In all the years I’ve served with the Outlanders, I’ve never seen him so much as glance at a woman — and believe me, it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. Some real beauties, too. Better than that stringy witch.’ Fond memories softened his expression, then his mouth set like a trap. ‘Get on with your work, trooper.’

In a squadron as close as the Outlanders, rumours about the girl crept and multiplied, mixing fact with speculation, some of it prurient.

‘She ain’t here by the general’s doing,’ Gorka said. ‘It was the Englishman who bought her. He’s warmer-blooded than he lets on.’

‘I heard he bought her to set her free,’ said a trooper.

Gorka flicked a bone into the fire. ‘Only after he’s taken his pleasure with her. Lucky bastard. The rest of us won’t dip our wicks until we reach Samarkand, wherever that is.’

‘She’s a Luri,’ said another. ‘A gypsy. She was a dancer in a troupe of singers and performers.’

Gorka hawked and spat. ‘Gypsies are bad cess. They can read the future and put the hex on you. I saw it with my own eyes this very day.’ He patted Lucas’s knee. ‘One glance from that witch and Lucas’s bones melted. Am I right, lad?’

Lucas wriggled. ‘Give it a rest, boss.’

A man crossed himself. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Zuleyka. Something like that.’

Zuleyka. The name expanded in Lucas’s mind.

Gorka laughed. ‘See? She’s enchanted him.’ He prodded Lucas’s thigh. ‘You’ll need a priest to drive out her magic.’

Lucas twisted away and spoke in a rough manner. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s only because I haven’t seen a woman for weeks.’

The troopers’ laughter tailed off. ‘The lad’s right,’ said one. ‘At least on the Danube watch there was always a village girl to pleasure you and darn your socks.’

‘You and your bloody socks.’

A tall shape against the fireglow made them scramble up.

‘As you were,’ said Vallon. ‘Everything all right?’

‘No complaints,’ said Aimery. ‘We were wondering what arrangements you’d made with the Vikings.’

‘They’ve agreed to transport us across the Caspian.’

‘For gold?’

‘It won’t come out of your wages.’ Vallon cleared his throat. ‘I want to be off tomorrow, so you’ll need to start loading before first light. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up on sleep during the crossing. Good night.’

Aimery broke the dragging silence. ‘You heard him. Turn in.’

Gorka stirred the cinders as if to shape them into auguries. ‘Vallon made a deal with the Svans and they broke it. Now he gets cosy with a gang of Vikings…’

The sizzling of spit in the embers was more eloquent than words.

Even with a night start, the task of distributing the men and cargo among the vessels took until afternoon. Lucas was loading the last string of horses onto the lopsided freighter when a trooper at the top of the ramp shouted and pointed.

Lucas whirled to see the slave girl galloping away. His mouth went slack. His eyes bolted. ‘Hey, that’s my horse!’

He sprinted down the line of horses and leaped bareback onto a fine bay. Grabbing its mane with his left hand, he lashed it into pursuit with his right. A trooper flung himself out of his way. Shouts faded behind him. He rode crouched over the horse’s neck, the steppe streaming back in a green blur. The girl had a furlong start, an excellent mount and weighed fifty pounds less than him. Also, he realised, she was a superb rider with perfect balance. Stride by stride she increased her lead until by the time he’d covered two miles she was the best part of half a mile ahead. He couldn’t maintain the pace. The effort of managing his horse by hand and thigh was too much to sustain. A swerve as his mount switched direction to avoid an anthill almost spilled him onto the steppe.

Hooves drubbed behind him and two Seljuks swept past, apparently seated on cushions of air. Their saddles and stirrups gave them an advantage and yard by yard they ran the girl down, coming up on her one on each side. One of them transferred his weight to his left stirrup, leaned out and snatched Aster’s reins. The gelding crabbed to a stop and the Seljuks’ horses squealed and nipped around him.

Lucas caught up, hot and furious. The girl’s camisole had ridden up to her waist. He tried to drag her off and she backhanded him across the nose, bringing tears to his eyes. ‘God damn you,’ he shouted. He seized her and they tumbled to the ground. She was first up and when he pulled her back she ran a clawed hand down his cheek.

Warding off her flailing hands, he wrestled her to the ground. Still she struggled. He straddled her hips and pinned her wrists. She went still only for long enough to spit into his eyes.

A buffet to his head knocked him sideways. Blinking up, he saw the universe rearrange itself around Wayland. The girl seized her chance and lunged for Aster. One of the Seljuks ran the horse out of her reach and the other rode tight circles around the girl, giving strange high-pitched cries.

Lucas shook his head to restore vision. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘Fetch your horse.’

Lucas darted poisonous glances at the girl while he examined Aster. ‘If you’ve lamed him…’

He was blown and lathered, but had suffered no serious harm. Lucas dabbed at his leaking cheek. The Seljuks sat their horses with impassivity. Wayland nudged his chin in the direction of the horse Lucas had appropriated. ‘You know who that belongs to?’

Lucas managed a grin. ‘No, but she’s a good one.’

‘So she should be. She’s the general’s spare mount.’

Lucas swung his arm as if hurling something into the ground. ‘Ah, hell.’

Wayland took Vallon’s horse and led it away, the Seljuks jogging after him. ‘Get going. You’re holding up the convoy.’

‘Hey,’ Lucas shouted. ‘What am I supposed to do with her?’

‘Nothing,’ Wayland said. ‘She can go wherever she pleases provided it’s not on one of the company’s mounts.’

Lucas slumped. He pulled Zuleyka away from Aster. ‘You’re free. Understand?’ He shoved her. ‘Go on. Get lost.’

She began walking south.

Lucas’s lips curled. Stupid bitch, he thought. ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

‘No, she isn’t,’ Wayland called back. ‘She’s from Persia. Khazar pirates captured her when she was twelve.’

Lucas dragged himself onto Aster. ‘She’s not going to reach Persia on her own. Look at her. She won’t last a day.’

‘That’s not my problem.’

‘Nor mine.’

Wayland kicked his horse into a canter. ‘Don’t make matters worse by delaying the convoy any longer.’

Lucas urged Aster into a trot. His face smarted and his thighs ached. Tomorrow he’d hardly be able to walk. Wayland and the Seljuks were already silhouettes and the girl was just a blip on the hot grassland. He swore and caught up, slowing his pace to match hers. She strode on, slim calves flashing, her eyes fixed ahead.

‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘You’ll only be captured by another bunch of pirates.’

She ignored him.

‘Go on, then. See if I care.’

But Lucas couldn’t leave her. Grass halms had already cut her feet. ‘Come on, Zuleyka. Say something.’ He rode ahead of her and turned. ‘Listen, I’m sorry I handled you roughly, but you can’t blame me. Aster’s the only thing I have.’

She stopped and he melted at the sight of tears flooding her eyes. He held out a hand and his voice dropped into a deeper register. ‘Get on behind me.’

She looked at him properly for the first time and he wished with all his heart that he could have undone his hot-blooded actions. He stretched towards her as if trying to bridge a gulf, and after a moment she took his fingers and sprang up behind him.

They plodded back, Lucas aware of Zuleyka’s breasts against his back. He eased his throat.

‘You ride pretty well.’

He might not have existed for all the attention she paid him.

He tapped his chest. ‘I’m Lucas.’ He craned over his shoulder. ‘Lucas.’

Her strange green eyes looked straight through him.

Love, lust and guilt made a curdled brew. Lucas clapped his heels against Aster’s flanks. ‘To hell with you, then.’

Jeers and catcalls greeted his return. Vallon stood planted in his path, his face frozen in rage he wouldn’t express to a mere trooper. Lucas felt a spurt of self-pity at the injustice of it.

‘What was I supposed to do?’ he muttered.

Wulfstan took Aster’s reins. ‘Get aboard.’

Lucas slid off. ‘What about the girl?’

Wulfstan shoved him towards the freighter. ‘Just do what you’re told.’

Gorka met him at the top of the plank, shaking his head at Lucas’s latest transgression. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘Oh dear, oh fucking dear. You attract trouble like shit draws flies.’

‘It wasn’t my fault.’

Gorka’s face grew choleric. ‘Not your fault? You’re in the fucking army. It’s always someone’s fault.’ He cuffed Lucas’s back. ‘Now pretend you don’t exist.’

Lucas flung himself down, wrapped his arms around his chest and didn’t stir until the freighter had cast off. Rising on stiffening joints, he saw the mountains receding behind them in a pastel haze, the ships drawn out in line under the oncoming night. Hungry, he joined his squad for supper.

‘Anyone know what happened to the girl?’ he said, trying to make his tone casual.

‘It was awful,’ Gorka said. ‘Vallon executed her. Stealing imperial property’s a capital offence.’

Lucas sprang up. ‘No!’

One of the troopers took pity on him. ‘Gorka’s making sport of you. Vallon and Wayland had a flaming row over her. The general insisted she be left behind and Wayland told him they couldn’t just ditch her on the steppe. They were shouting into each other’s faces right in front of us and I thought for one moment they’d come to blows. Anyway, the Englishman won the argument. The girl’s coming with us until we reach Turkestan and can find a caravan that will take her back to Persia.’

Lucas subsided in relief. ‘Where is she?’

‘On one of the baggage boats.’

‘Those unnatural brutes!’ Lucas glared around. ‘On my first night with them I woke to find one of them snuggling up under my blanket.’

The troopers laughed and slapped their thighs. One of them flicked a tear from his eye. ‘Her maidenhead’s safe. Wayland’s dog is guarding it.’

‘What?’

‘Wayland has set his dog to watch over her. He trained it to protect his children.’

Another trooper shook his head. ‘A hundred men, one girl. That can only lead to one thing.’

Gorka nodded. ‘Well said, Petrocles.’ He aimed a knife in the general direction of Lucas’s throat. ‘I’ll say this once so you’d better listen good. Flirt with the gypsy girl and two soldiers will end up dead — the man stabbed by his rival and the murderer Vallon leaves hanging from some wayside gallows. Believe it. I’ve looked back at more than one trooper whose neck was stretched because he couldn’t wait to dip his wick at the next town for a few baubles.’

Lucas flushed. ‘I only chased her because she stole my horse.’

Gorka kept his knife aimed. ‘I think she stole more than that.’

Aimery deflected the blade. ‘You’ve made your point. It’s been a tiring day and we’ll all feel better after a night’s sleep.’

When Lucas lay down, he looked up at the stars, remembering the feel of the horse between his thighs, the hot wind in his face, the girl’s breasts stirring under her gown, the creamy smoothness of her thighs.

Zuleyka.

Gorka elbowed him. ‘Are you dreaming of diddling the gypsy girl?’

‘No, boss.’

Gorka pounced. ‘Why not? Are you a fucking homo?’