Act V: The Prince's Expedition (Part 10)
ten
The next morning, their caretaker finally reverted to Little Batur—but the boy only ordered slaves to bring them food. "Guests don't need to go out; everything is provided inside the tent," he said, then, clutching a blade of grass, skipped and hopped away.
“Now they’ve openly imprisoned us.” Schumer watched the departing Little Tatars and sighed with his arms crossed. “But honestly, I’d rather stay in this tent than be with the Khan.”
“I’d like to see him. He seems much more approachable than his wife.” Yubi sat down on the cushion, bitterly tasting the raisins and walnuts the slave had brought him. “I must ask him if my sister has replied yet…”
“If you think this is foolproof, there’s nothing wrong with having some expectations,” Yakov said, scooping ashes from the hearth with a piece of firewood. “But if you think this is full of loopholes and you’re still putting all your mind on it, you’re just asking for trouble.”
“I know all this… but if Batur didn’t want us to leave, why would he lie to us?” Yubi bit her lip, deep in thought. “We wrote the letter ourselves, and we released the doves ourselves!”
“Who knows?” Schumer leaned back on the carpet. “Maybe he’s afraid this will get out and make his wife jealous of your sister! She’s the Khan’s dream girl!”
"What should we do?" Yubi exclaimed in alarm. "If his wife finds out about this, will she come and kill us?"
Yakov was both angry and amused by these words. "Even if she killed you, it wouldn't be for this ridiculous reason." He threw firewood into the fire pit, his fingers blackened. "Which Khan lacks beautiful women?"
A dull silence fell over the yurt for a while. Schumeer, bored out of his mind, rolled over.
"But what else can we do?" Yubi muttered. "If we don't get a reply, is there any way we can escape?"
They had been confined in this cramped tent for a whole day. The scenery outside the dome flashed by like a fleeting moment, the morning glow turning into evening. The shadows of people grew longer and shorter, then longer again, until they finally disappeared. Yakov rose from the carpet. He frowned and looked up. The stars once again twinkled in the dome's circular ring.
"Have any pigeons flown by? It's getting dark again." Yubi, exhausted from sitting and staring all day, said, "If my sister had replied, she would have arrived by now..."
Yakov's gaze swept down along the wooden frame. "I'll go take a look," he said.
"Didn't Little Batur tell you not to go out?" Schumer looked at him disdainfully. "There must be someone watching the door!"
“Who said I was going through the door?” Yakov looked around. “Is there a rope? If not, give me all your belts.”
Schumacher followed his gaze, craning his neck to look at the skylight dome above the fire pit. "Are you crazy?" he exclaimed. "How did you get up there?"
"I'm trying to figure something out."
“Even if you could make it up there, your massive size would crush the whole yurt!” Schumeer reached out and patted the wooden dragon frame, making it creak. “It can only withstand someone like Yubi!”
“Then let me go?” Yubi said. “I also want to find my sister’s reply…”
Yakov's gaze shifted to Yubi. His slender vampire master was halfway off his belt, his eyes wide with disbelief. Yakov rushed to him, taking two steps at a time, and grabbed his shoulders and hips. After measuring him, he immediately pulled Yubi up and made him climb onto his shoulders.
"Slow down!" Yubi exclaimed, grabbing his hair in fright.
Yakov paid no attention. He continued to look up at the dome. "Can you reach the top beam?" he asked.
Yubi reached out shakily, and Yakov, who was standing on the edge of the burning fire, lifted him up by the knees—Shumer, who was standing nearby, moved further and further away, covering his eyes in fear and peeking through his fingers at the two of them stacked on top of each other. "Don't drop him!" he wanted to shout, but only dared to whisper, "If he falls, he'll fall into the fire!"
“Take off your ring and try again!” Yakov craned his neck, “as if you had wings!”
"I tried my best!" Yubi stretched out her arms desperately to reach it. "If I can't reach it, don't force me!"
Yakov looked up, his back to the firelight, and threw Yubi upwards with all his might.
Like a wondrous spell coming true, a great miracle manifesting—something bulged up at the waist and back of Yubi, rapidly expanding and breaking free from the constraints of the robe.
A pair of enormous, jet-black wings unfurled from the mark on the vampire's lower back. Yakov thought of a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, a phoenix rising from the ashes. In the firelight, the wool robe was torn, its fibers scattering throughout the small yurt. Yakov's hands remained in the supporting posture, yet no weight remained in his palms. He gazed at the scene beneath the circular starry sky with a mixture of shock and joy, as if tears were about to well up in his eyes.
"Did you know about this beforehand?" Schumacher asked, his mouth agape as he scrambled to his feet, gripping the wall frame. "Don't tell me you didn't know."
“I know,” Yakov muttered, “but I thought he would turn into a bat or something.”
“But what am I going to do then!” Yubi gripped the round beam of the dome tightly, dangling there like a real bat. He seemed not yet to have mastered the use of his newfound wings, fluttering aimlessly. “With these wings, I can’t get out!” he cried. “The skylight is so small!”
"Keep your voice down!" Yakov grabbed his kicking feet and lifted them up. "Get them off first! You can't keep dragging these around like this!"
“I can’t!” Yubi tried, but the wings wouldn’t obey him. They folded and closed inside the tent, creating a fierce wind that fanned the fire and even caused the spread-out felt to flutter slightly. “If you suddenly grew two of these things on your back, you probably wouldn’t learn as fast as I do!”
"Then put them away and go out through the skylight first!" Yakov grabbed the tips of the wings, bundled them up like a homing pigeon, and stuffed them out of the skylight.
Yubi's head finally emerged from the dome—he lifted the dirty felt covering his head and was awestruck to find the entire expanse of brilliant starlight and firelight before him. He was high above, unseen by anyone. He couldn't hear Yakov or Shumel calling him from below. His mouth was open, and the fresh, crisp air filled his nostrils, yet he felt no cold. He easily folded his wings and climbed out of the skylight, even the weariness of waiting all day vanishing.
"Yubi!" Yakov's call finally brought him to his senses. He looked down; the dome faced the hearth, its light reflecting off Yakov's anxious face. "Do you know where we're going?"
“I know.” Yubi took off his fur hat and tossed it back into the yurt. His enormous bat wings unfolded silently, and his feet seemed weightless as he soared into the air.
Yakov sat down by the fire with a sigh of relief. Only then did he realize that his palm had been cut by Yubi's wing, and blood was flowing freely. Beside him, Schumeer's mouth was still open. He looked at the mess of fluff on the ground and murmured as if in a daze.
"Yakov," the Jew asked, startled, "have you thought about what we should do if he doesn't come back?"
The feeling of flying was so exhilarating—Yubi thought, freedom. No word could replace that feeling. Now, he could plunge down the hillside into the entire grassland in an instant, making the journey that had taken half a day by carriage disappear in the blink of an eye; he then surged upwards, wanting to see how high he could fly. Under the clear moonlight, he could even see the boundary between the grassland and the forest, the river shimmering like a narrow silver ribbon.
He saw many slaves—Slavs and Wallachians—toiling away in the military tents below the hillside. Ragged and shabby, they performed tasks like burning charcoal, carrying goods, and pulling carts under the whip. As if they had exhausted all their tears and cries of pain, the slaves remained silent, letting their sweat weep for them. The bald, scarred man who had been tormented by Schumer earlier was now fiercely slashing at a man's scalp with his scimitar. The man's eyes rolled back in agony, his limbs convulsing, yet this only drew cheers. "I'll find the skulls of your people to use as drinking cups," Yubi remembered the man saying to Schumer, but the man under his blade was clearly not Jewish. But then Yubi wondered, what did this have to do with him?
He saw the Khan's wife, Turana, again. She was leading her lithe twin children, counting horses and soldiers through the night, organizing them into squads. Messengers carrying military flags ran back and forth, their metal instruments emitting a loud, terrifying sound—though Yubi no longer found the sound frightening. He thought, counting the days, Lord von Brunel's army had been on its way for four days; their marching speed was always faster than a donkey's, they should be here soon. They would engage in a horrific battle on the steppe, rivers of blood flowing, corpses strewn across the plains. But Yubi thought, his mother had done something similar. What a waste of all that blood.
He looked down at them, and all his troubles seemed as insignificant as the mountains and valleys: the Slavs' plight was nothing, the great war between the Tatars and Saxons was nothing, even the road to Constantinople was nothing. He thought, his sister's letter? Perhaps he could fly faster than a carrier pigeon now, and reach that city the world longed for in less than half a day.
Freedom—he suddenly realized that the word didn't mean anything like he had previously understood it, a noble quality possessed by all. It was more like a luxury built upon ability and power. Yubi thought, he had only learned to fly. His brothers and sisters knew more, but what kind of freedom had they tasted? And his mother? Yet his mother had freely chosen death.
A wave of grief and confusion washed over him. Yubi wondered, would ultimate freedom lead to death? This thought struck him like a jolt, pulling him back to the terrifying reality.
Yubi finally remembered Yakov's face. Under the narrow dome, that Slavic face, glowing red from the firelight, full of hope and expectation, burdened with suffering. His nascent, small transcendence had burst like a bubble.
He first flew up the hillside to look for the wagon with its perches, hoping to see if any pigeons had returned—to his surprise, the carrier pigeons were already sleeping peacefully in their little nests, indicating that someone had come to collect the mail long ago—but that was no big deal. He then searched for the accompanying horses and donkeys, trying to find out where Batur had hidden them so he could take his mother's head—but the Tatars had too many tents, and the horses were hidden under the felt, so he returned empty-handed.
Under the cover of night, he searched helplessly for the enormous tent used for the banquet—it was easily identifiable. There was no music or food tonight, and Batur wasn't inside. Where could he be?
Finally, Yubi landed on top of the Khan's council tent. He found the innermost room and peered inside through the dome.
His gaze was fixed on the table. Inside, an oil lamp burned quietly, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood—Yubi had assumed the Tatars disliked incense, but now it seemed that wasn't the case. Two or three female slaves were brewing herbal soup in a corner, the aroma just masking its bitterness. It was the dead of winter, yet they wore only thin veils and jewelry, each huddled around the stove, shivering whether from the cold or fear. Yubi scanned the entire yurt, noticing the enormous map. On the back of the map was a curtain made of beaded chains, inside which were piled thick, soft blankets, with a brazier nearby.
Yubi noticed that Batur's boots were placed in front of the beaded chain. The female slaves' medicine was ready, and they crowded around the steaming earthenware pot, lifted the beaded chain, and went inside.
No one could see the map in the lobby anymore.
Yubi quietly crouched down, grasped the round beam of the dome, and landed lightly on the carpet in front of the table. Batur coughed slightly behind the beaded necklace, as if he had choked on medicine. The noise would just mask the rustling of pages being turned, Yubi thought. He groped around on the messy table. The light was dim, but he could see everything clearly.
Soon, he discovered several identical rolls of cotton cloth, each neatly bound with exquisite red lacquered cord. Yubi noticed a fine, dark pattern on the cloth—a pattern that looked somewhat familiar, like the mark on Yakov's chest, yet symmetrical on all four sides, resembling a fancy cross.
He immediately opened it and read the text inside. A string of Greek letters came into view.
Schumeer sat by the fire, staring blankly at the flames before him. The firewood crackled and popped, the wood gradually turning into black charcoal, and the charcoal into pale ash. The ash crumbled in his amber eyes, falling into the crimson flames.
Yakov looked out the skylight. He remained standing straight by the fire pit, his fists clenched. His wounds were constantly being torn open, and fresh pain kept seeping into his palms.
Suddenly, a pair of familiar red eyes appeared through the skylight. Yakov's pupils dilated. He took a step back, his boot plunging into the fire. "Fire!" Schumer shouted, shoving the large man away from the fire pit. But he also saw the vampire hanging upside down from the dome. "Yubi...!"
Yakov reached out and lifted his master by the armpits. Yubi landed lightly, but he wouldn't let go. His large hands gripped the cold, tattered robe tightly. "How many guards are at the gate?" Yakov crouched down, staring intently into his eyes. "Have you found the shortest escape route?"
Yubi stared at him blankly, then shook her head in a daze.
“What about our gold and horses?” Schumeer also leaned in, his eyes wide. “And Yakov’s sword?”
“No, there are too many tents, I’m too lazy to look at them all.” Yubi raised her hand, holding a piece of fine cotton cloth in her palm. “But I found my sister’s reply.”
Without a word, Yakov snatched the piece of cloth. He then realized he was illiterate and had no choice but to hand it to Schumeer. "Let me see, it's in Greek, it's definitely a letter from the Roman Empire..." Schumeer hurriedly took the letter to the fire and squinted to read it.
"What did you write?" Yakov urged.
"Your request is granted, that he may watch the battle..." Schumer frowned, the dim firelight obscuring his vision, and fearing the burning of this important letter, "Regardless of victory or defeat, at the New Year, he shall be sent to the border town of Ruse, to search for the great ship marker on the Danube... My younger brother is foolish and weak, so that he may not be harmed. Anbichia Ediva Noctenias."
"What do you mean?" Yakov asked, puzzled and anxious. His hand was still tightly gripping Yubi's.
“My sister said she wants us to go to Ruse for the New Year, that little town on the Danube. I found it on the map of Batur, it’s not far from here!” Yubi’s red eyes sparkled with excitement. “She said there are big ships there to pick us up!”
“But she also said she wanted you to watch the battle.” Schumacher turned around, his face full of shock. “All we knew was that a battle was about to begin…”
"Batur: A Tatar Khan, has made a request to your sister: a Byzantine noblewoman. The request is for you to observe a battle. And the opposing side in this battle are the Saxons, invited by the King of Hungary…"
“This is not a religious war,” Yakov’s voice was extremely somber. “It is a proxy war.”
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