THE CHALLENGE
He slept little. The fate destined for Mary had come as a complete
surprise. It was not strange, he reflected, that Gela should want
her for a wife. Nor that Bassalor Danek should approve the marriage.
He might have foreseen something of the kind.
No wonder the Gur-Khan had taken excellent care of the girl, when she
was marked for the bride of his grandson. Gray swore fluently, and
vainly. The calmness with which the Wusun had put him aside was
irksome. He wished that he had claimed to be the husband of Mary.
It was too late now.
Nor did he hope that the girl's objection, once she heard of the
proposed match, would carry weight. Evidently marriage among the
Wusun was arranged by the parents of the parties concerned, as in
China. Bassalor Danek's word was law. And the old chieftain fully
appreciated the beauty of the girl.
Gray groaned, reflecting that the coincidence of the cross that the
girl wore had rendered her doubly desirable in the eyes of the Wusun.
He wondered how they had seen the cross. Was the marriage to be the
price of his safety? He groaned at the thought.
Flight, even if he could reach the girl, from Sungan, was not to be
thought of for the present. Wu Fang Chien would be alert for just
such an attempt. And Gray did not see how he could hope to win
through the lepers.
"They say blood calls to blood," he muttered. Then he scowled
savagely. "Confound Gela!"
He was hungry for sight of the girl. She must be worried about him,
as he had not been able to visit her yesterday as he had promised.
His involuntary protest had excited the suspicions of Garluk. He
would find it difficult now to escape from the surveillance of the
_tumani_, if he should make the attempt.
And beyond the Wusun was Wu Fang Chien, watching keenly for any
effort on the part of Gray or Mary to leave Sungan.
It was clear to Gray that the mandarin could not permit them to leave
the place alive. For one thing, they would carry the news of the
massacre of the caravan. And the tidings of the existence of the
Wusun.
It would be fatal to the plans of Wu Fang Chien and the Buddhists if
the Wusun should be discovered. The knowledge of a race of ancient
Asia that worshipped the cross would be a severe blow to the
Mongolians. The Wusun were dying out. Soon they would be extinct,
and the danger over. Until then Wu Fang Chien must guard his
prisoners.
The situation afforded little comfort to Gray. At daybreak he
pounded on his door. In time Garluk came with food. Timur, he said,
would visit Gray presently, in the morning. No, the
Man-from-the-Outside could not leave the tower. Bassalor Danek had
issued orders. He was concerned for the safety of his guests as the
soldiers of the Chinese had been seen assembling outside the wall.
The Wusun, said Garluk, had mustered their fighting men at the wall
and in the passages, under Gela. After the wedding the Chinese could
not interfere with the Kha Rakcha, for she would be the wife of the
Kha Khan.
Gray dismissed Garluk, to hasten the approach of Timur, and watched
moodily from the embrasure. He knew that he was little better than a
prisoner. Hours passed while the sun climbed higher. He noticed an
unusual activity in Sungan, and saw bodies of armed men pass from
point to point.
The discipline of the place was strict. Probably, he reflected, a
heritage from the military ancestors of the Wusun. It was noon when
Timur entered the chamber and seated himself calmly on the rugs.
Gray curbed his anxiety, and greeted the lame councilor quietly. He
had a desperate game to play with nothing to rely upon but his own
wits.
"Garluk said that you had need of me," observed Timur, scanning him
keenly.
"I have a word to say to you," corrected Gray quietly.
"It is said," he added as the old man was silent, "that the Kha
Rakcha is to be asked in marriage by Gela, the Kha Khan. Is this so?"
"They said the truth. The wedding will be tonight, after sunset."
Gray's heart sank at this. He had hoped, illogically, that Garluk
had exaggerated the state of affairs. Timur stretched out a lean
hand. In it was a small square of linen, Mary's handkerchief.
The American took it eagerly. It was a message from Mary, written in
the Chinese ink, and it ran as follows:
Bassalor Danek has ordered me to marry Gela. I have said no, a
hundred times, but they will not listen. It will be to-night. They
will not let me see you. I don't know what to do, Captain Gray.
Please, please think of something--to delay it. I did not dream they
wanted to do anything like that. I would rather face Wu Fang Chien.
Why could not you come to me? Please, help me. Timur has agreed to
carry this.
It was signed with Mary's name. The girlish appeal stirred Gray
strangely. She had sent to him for aid. Yet there was little he
could do. He followed the note mechanically and faced Timur,
thinking quickly.
"In her own country," he said slowly, "the Kha Rakcha has high rank.
Because of this it is not fitting that she should marry among the
Wusun. She does not want to stay in Sungan. It will kill her. This
is the truth."
"I have seen that you speak the truth," assented the chieftain. "And
my heart is warm for love of the woman who talked with me. Yet Gela
has rank among us."
"But she does not wish the marriage."
"It is the word of Bassalor Danek."
"You know that I speak what is so. The woman will die, if not by her
own hand, from unhappiness."
Timur looked sadly from the embrasure.
"It may be. But death is slow in coming to the young, O
Man-from-the-Outside. Before she dies the Kha Rakcha will bear Gela
a son. That is the wish of Bassalor Danek."
Gray's lips tightened grimly.
"Is that a just reward for coming over the desert to find the Wusun
and lighten their captivity?"
"It is fate."
"If it comes to pass the White Spirit will never leave Sungan, but
will die here. Will you lay that black fate upon her?"
"Will she not be kept here, if she does not marry Gela?"
Gray looked up hotly. "The Kha Rakcha is not a subject of Bassalor
Danek. She is a servant of a mightier king----"
Timur raised his hand.
"Harken, youth," he said gravely. "I have seen your love for the Kha
Rakcha, and I know that she has love for you in her heart----"
Gray's pulses quickened at this--"but the will of Bassalor Danek must
be obeyed. I know not if it is fitting that she marry among the
Wusun. But the Gur-Khan has said that by the marriage, aid may be
obtained from her people for the Wusun. Blood ties are strong. And
the Wusun are fast dying out. If the marriage takes place, the Kha
Rakcha will remain in Sungan. That is the word of the Gur-Khan. It
may not be altered."
Silently, Gray studied the pattern of the carpet at his feet. His
firm mouth was set in hard lines. Argument was gaining him nothing.
And he must make his effort to save the girl now or never.
"I claim the White Spirit as my bride," he said. "By right of love.
She is mine."
Timur combed his white beard thoughtfully.
"How can it be?"
"In this way. Bassalor Danek has given to Gela what is mine. Since
the time of Kaidu and Genghis Khan it has been the law of Mongolia
that a maiden should not be taken from the man to whom she is
betrothed."
"Bassalor Danek has decided. It is for the good of his people."
"I, who have come across the desert to the Wusun, know that it is not
so. I call upon the Wusun to abide by the law of Mongolia."
"The marriage feast is being prepared. The White Spirit will be
clothed in the robe of blessed felicity."
"Let it be so." Gray looked at the old man steadily. "Let there be
a marriage this night, according to the custom of the Wusun. But I,
as well as Gela, claim the girl. You know the law?"
"If two men say that a woman is theirs, they must decide the matter
with weapons in their hands."
"That is the law, Timur. From across the desert I have known it. I
will fight Gela. Thus it will be decided."
Timur glanced at him curiously.
"The Kha Khan is no light foe. He will fight with swords. He has
learned the art of sword play from his fathers."
"Be it so." Gray rose. "Bear this message to the Kha Khan. Say
that the White Spirit is mine."
The Wusun sighed.
"It is the way of the hot blood of youth. You are foolhardy. Why
should friends fight when Wu Fang Chien is approaching our gates?
Still, what fate has written will come to pass. I will tell Bassalor
Danek your message."
That night there was a stir in Sungan. Rumor of the coming event had
spread through the ruins, and, with the exception of the guards that
Gela stationed to prevent any attempt at entrance on the part of the
Chinese, the whole of the Wusun men flocked into the council hall.
Gray, from his tower, watched the glow of the sunset and saw the
shadows form about the gardens of Sungan. The evening chant floated
up to him, mournful and melodious. Occasionally he saw a sentry pass
along the outline of the wall.
He wondered grimly whether he would see the next sunrise. Timur had
announced, by Garluk, that Gray's challenge to the chief of the
_tumani_ had been accepted.
Garluk was voluble with excitement. He made no secret of his belief
that the American would die at the hand of Gela. It would be an
excellent spectacle, he said. He asked if Gray intended to protect
himself by magic during the combat.
Gray did not answer. He had had no experience in handling a sword;
the primitive blades of the Wusun were clumsy weapons. Doubtless
Gela was skilled in their use.
The situation afforded little ground for hope. Certainly Gray, who
had had an opportunity to measure his adversary, was not
overconfident. He was resolved to make the best of it. He was doing
the only thing he could to aid the girl.
He was not sorry. Gray was the type that did not shirk physical
conflict. And his love for Mary Hastings was without stint. He did
not know how much she cared for him. He was incredulous of Timur's
words--that she could love him.
At Garluk's summons, he followed the _tumani_ down the stairs. The
corridors were thronged with men who stared at him avidly. So great
was the crowd that Garluk could barely force his way into the hall.
The place was brightly lighted with candles. Overhead, the gallery
was filled with the Wusun. On the daïs Bassalor Danek was talking
earnestly with Timur and the other elders of the tribe.
A murmur went up at Gray's entrance and the throng turned, as one
man, to stare at him. He returned their scrutiny, from the doorway,
hoping that he might see the girl. Would she be brought to the hall?
He did not know. Timur limped forward.
"The bronze bracelet," he ordered Garluk. The _tumani_ produced a
metal armlet which he clamped upon Gray's left forearm. It was an
ancient ornament, engraved with lettering unfamiliar to the American.
He wondered idly what Van Schaick would have thought of it.
"It shall be as you wish," said Timur gravely. "Bassalor Danek is
just. He has granted your claim. If you are the victor, the White
Spirit shall be yours."
"It is well," assented Gray.
He spoke mechanically, feeling the phenomena known to men who are
about to go into bodily danger--the acute interest in all about him,
merged into indifference.
"We have sent for the White Spirit," added Timur. "Gela will bring
her."
A fresh murmur caused Gray to raise his eyes. He searched the throng
greedily. At the door behind the daïs Mary Hastings had appeared.
The murmur changed into a loud exclamation of astonishment.
The girl had been forced to discard her own clothing for a loose
garment of white silk, fitted with a wide girdle of the same material
and a veil that covered her face below the eyes. Her hair hung over
her slender shoulders in bronze coils on which the candlelight played
fitfully.
Her arms were bare. Thrust into the glare, she shrank back. Then
she caught sight of Gray and would have started forward, but the
women around prevented her. For a moment her eyes sought his
pleadingly.
"The Kha Rakcha," murmured those near him. "_Aie_--she is fair."
Gray's heart leaped at the sight. Then Gela appeared at the girl's
side, his tall bulk towering above the women. He was armed with his
sword and appeared well pleased with the situation.
"A fine stage setting," thought Gray whimsically. "Just like the
plays at home. Only the savage in this case isn't ready to drop by
the footlights when the time comes. And his sword isn't _papier
maché_."
His mind ran on, illogically. But his gaze fastened hungrily on the
girl. He admired the pluck which kept her erect and calm in the face
of the multitude.
"A thoroughbred!" he muttered. He wanted to call to her, but the
commotion would drown his voice. He did not look at her again. The
appeal in the girl's mute eyes was too great.
With this came a quick revulsion of feeling. His stupor of
indifference vanished at sight of the slight figure among the staring
Wusun. A hot longing to fight for her swept over him--a desire to
match his strength with her enemies, to win her for himself and keep
her.
The thought sent the blood pulsing through him quickly. He smiled
and waved at the girl, who responded bravely.
Gray moved toward her, followed by Timur. He wished to speak to her.
And then came the incident which altered matters entirely and which
set in motion the strange events of that night.
Gela had been talking with Bassalor Danek. In a burst of pride, the
Kha Khan turned to the girl, caught her about the knees and lifted
her easily for all to see. Surprise caused the girl to cry out.
"Gela!" Gray called angrily, "that was ill done. The Kha Rakcha is
not for your hands to touch!"
The youth did not understand. Mastered by an impulse of passion, he
laughed, pressing the white woman closer. An echoing cry came from
the Wusun. Gela kissed the bare arm of the girl, running his free
hand through her hair.
The sight was too much for Gray's prudence. Pushing Timur aside, he
sprang forward. Several of the _tumani_ stepped into his path. Gray
struck at them viciously.
He was in the grip of a cold rage which renders a man doubly
dangerous. His powerful body flung forward through the group of his
enemies. Love for the girl blinded him to the consequences of his
mistake.
An outcry arose. Gray paid no heed to it, his fists smashing into
the faces of those who tried to hold him. He wrenched free from men
who caught his legs.
"Peace!" cried the great voice of Bassalor Danek.
An injured Wusun, bleeding from the mouth, struck at Gray with his
sword. The white man stepped under the blow and twisted the weapon
away from its holder.
Aflame with the lust of conflict, he swung his blade against the
others that flashed in his face. The force of his trained muscles
beat down their guard and cleared him a way to the foot of the daïs.
Then the Wusun gave back, at a sharp command. A space was cleared
around him. He saw Gela standing alone before him, smiling, weapon
in hand.