Act V: The Prince's Expedition (15)
fifteen
The helmet was too big for a ten-year-old. He was put in the armor, mounted on the horse, and ready to go.
"What for?" Yubi's confusion was barely contained in her voice. "Just so I could bring my sister a victory report?"
“You just need to watch from here.” Batur sat back weakly in his seat, his hands and feet trembling uncontrollably. “You don’t need to worry.”
Only one phalanx remained on the battlefield, made up of two broken ones—the bishop of Brasov stood in the center, his voice hoarse as he recited verses from the Bible. Faith and the will to survive energized the remaining men, who roared as they held their positions. They were slowly making their way north into the valley—Turana's heavy cavalry were still locked in a fierce battle with Pascal's knights, circling the infantry. She soon realized that the phalanx was trying to drag her troops into the range of the archers on the hillside.
Her two scimitars were stained with blood, one blade bent, but this battle to deliver the two children could not be lost. Thurana thought, she had never admitted defeat in her life, and the knight opposite her was exhausted. She had to end this battle as soon as possible.
Suddenly, she heard her men shouting, and the sound of a mouth harp signaled her location—someone was telling her to look to the west. She hurriedly looked up.
That was her youngest son—her only, last child—clumsily riding up in a suit of chainmail that was clearly too large. He wore a Khan's helmet, the mask flipped upwards to avoid obstructing his vision. His troops were foolishly charging into the range of the archers.
The resilient mother let out a horrifying wail. She screamed, "Get away!"
She spoke too late. Little Batur's horse, terrified by the rain of arrows, bolted wildly, refusing to obey his commands. The boy, pulling on the reins—his feet barely reaching the stirrups—led the troops madly toward the northern valley—a place where neither a charge nor mounted archery was possible.
Thurana felt as if a string representing reason and honor had snapped in her mind. In an instant, power, victory, strength—all the things she had fought for half her life—seemed to lose their importance. She roared like a wild beast, recklessly breaking free from the encirclement of the knights and leading her troops in a charge into the valley.
Yubi stood silently on the high slope, watching. Little Batur's troops disappeared into the valley, followed by Thurana's. The Knights Hospitaller followed closely behind, then the infantry phalanx. Finally, even the archers hidden in the forest fell silent.
The battlefield fell silent.
"They are probably in grave danger," Yakov said.
“I trust my wife and son,” Batur said, leaning back in his chair as if in a daze. “They will return victorious soon.”
They waited in silence, none of them daring to utter a word. After a while, eagles flew over the battlefield piled with corpses, circling overhead and hunting for food, but no one went to the grassland to clear the bodies. They waited from noon until evening. Batur, like an empty shell devoid of a soul, leaned back in his seat, his eyes blankly staring at the narrow mountain pass, unfocused.
“…We’re going to Ruse,” Yubi said. “Even if you don’t tell us where the horses are, we can find them ourselves.”
Batur opened his mouth, but said nothing. Yubi looked up and met Yakov's gaze, then reached out and grabbed his and Shumel's wrists.
Suddenly, the Khan let out a sharp cry.
"They're back!" He jumped up from his seat. "Look, my army is back!"
Yubi didn't believe it was true. He looked towards the battlefield without hope.
A weary cavalry caravan emerged from the narrow valley—Turana cradled her infant son, both she and her horse soaked in blood. Little Batur was crying loudly in her arms, his cries echoing across the silent battlefield like the piercing cries of a newborn.
“I won! I won!” Batur grabbed Yubi’s wrist. “Do you know how to tell Ambikia?”
Yubi looked with difficulty into the Khan's almost insane eyes, then turned to look at the surviving troops. Turana was leading her remaining men through the pile of corpses, searching for her twins. She grabbed an eagle that hadn't managed to escape with her bare hands, tied its legs to a bare flagpole, and used it to replace the wolf's head that originally had nine braids.
“That’s not your army.” Yakov followed Yubi’s gaze. “I remember the Thuram tribe’s flag was an eagle with outstretched wings.”
Batur turned to look when he heard this. He saw Tulana—his wife—standing in the sea of blood, gazing at him from afar. An endless stream of hatred emanated from her eyes.
He looked around and found that all his subordinates were staring at him coldly and unfamiliarly, as if they were looking at a shameless beggar.
The Khan, having lost everything, finally laughed dejectedly. He knelt down, trying to hug Yubi's legs, but Koyakov grabbed his collar and threw him away.
"What is it all for?" Yubi asked, staring at him. "What is it that's worth sacrificing everything for?"
“It is you, it is a gift from your family…” he tilted his head with utmost humility, “like what you gave to Yakov…”
“Perhaps we have plenty of time to interrogate him,” Schumeer suddenly whispered after a long silence. “I think we shouldn’t linger here…”
Yakov looked up. All the Tatars around him were staring at him and Yubi with the same hostility, their eyes filled with no less disgust than they had for Batur.
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