Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [118]
The political astuteness of this propaganda amused the boyar hugely.
Yes, he had been right about the Tatars. They were the masters and only a fool would refuse to work with them. He, Milei, had been working with the Tatars and with Alexander Nevsky for more than a decade.
He had also used intrigue.
When Alexander’s brother was briefly on the throne of Vladimir, by incredible good luck, a foolish boyar had sent him a letter that seemed to implicate the prince in intrigues against the Tatars. Milei had at once sent it to Alexander. A year later, Alexander had been on the throne in his brother’s place, and word came to Milei that he was in favour with the new ruler and with the Tatars. Since then, many modest favours had come his way.
Recently, it had to be admitted, things had been more difficult.
When Batu Khan had ruled in Sarai, Milei had not found it difficult to cooperate. But at present there was a new Khan in Sarai who had become a Moslem.
It was not that this new Khan oppressed the Russian Church: he did not. But he had decided to allow Moslem merchants to farm the taxes from the Suzdalian lands, and these men had been exploiting their situation ruthlessly. A number of unfortunates who could not meet all the tax demands had been taken into slavery and all over the region, from Vladimir to Murom, came news of revolts.
For once Milei sympathized with the people. The whole affair had been badly handled. But business was business. ‘You will see to it that the estates near Murom pay all that is demanded,’ he instructed his sons. ‘I shall go to keep an eye on Russka.’
Which was what he had been doing that morning.
He had another reason, however, for being in Russka that late July day. For with luck, today, he was to complete the biggest coup of his career. And one that would change the character of Russka for ever. When this crowning deal was done, he would hand over his affairs to his sons. He was getting old.
Anxiously Milei waited for the Tatar.
He rode in towards the evening: a quiet man in early middle age. One could tell at once from his dress and the magnificent horse he rode that he was rich and of some importance; he came alone though, without any escort, and with just a single Mongol bow and a lasso slung on his horse behind him. He was dressed in a kaftan of dark red silk and wore a wide-brimmed Chinese hat. Only one item of his dress was unexpected. Around his neck, on a silver chain, hung a little silver cross.
For Peter the Tatar was a Christian.
In fact, it was not so surprising. The Mongol state had no official religion. In their huge advance from Mongolia and across the Eurasian plain, the Mongols had encountered many powerful religions, from Buddhism in the east to Islam and Catholicism in the west.
One such faith was that of the ancient Christian Church called Nestorian which, cut off by theological disputes from the west, had expanded from its base in Persia six centuries before and set up communities as far away as China. And it was this half-forgotten Nestorian Church which had given rise to the great legend in medieval Europe: that somewhere to the east there lay a fabulous land, ruled by a mighty Christian ruler – a giant of a man.
This was the legend of Prester John.
As a boy, Milei had believed it. But in fact this legendary empire of Prester John was simply an ancient community that was perfectly familiar to the peoples of the orient. Even the son of the great Baru Khan himself had become a Nestorian Christian.
And in Russia, too, a few Tatars had taken the Orthodox Christian faith, just as some others further east had become Moslems. There was a Russian bishop at Sarai, and it was well known that the entire family of the senior Tatar official in the northern city of Rostov to the north were all Christian. Even so, it had been a surprise when, a year before, Milei had encountered