hindering their march, taking away their desire to fight, weakening the army’s morale. What could all this mean? Would the waters continue to rise? When they rose as high as their waists all their movements would be hampered and the Tukholians would shoot them all down with their stones like ducks. But the water was still clear, translucent, only where the Mongols waded about, it stood in broad muddy pools.
Tuhar Wolf approached Burunda.
“Great Behadir,” he said, “we are in grave danger.”
“Why?” asked Burunda frowning sulkily.
“These waters will not recede for our enemies have dammed up the stream in order to drown the entire Mongolian army in the valley.”
“So!” cried Burunda, “and you abominable slave, dare to tell me this, when you led us into this hole yourself?”
“You fail to remember, great Behadir, that I could not lead you here to be betrayed for what menaces you also threatens me.”
“You can’t fool me! You went there last night to negotiate with them for the destruction of the Mongols.”
“If that is so, do you think, Behadir, knowing about the destruction of the Mongols in advance, I would have returned to die here with them?”
Burunda was somewhat mollified. “What shall we do?” he asked. “Should we just give up and die?”
“No, we must defend ourselves. In a few minutes, Behadir, a real flood will pour down from the mountains and it will rapidly fill up this valley. First of all we must defend ourselves against it.”
“But how?”
“Order your army, while the water is still clear, to gather stones from the bottom and heap them up, each company a pile for itself. Standing on them we will be able to defend ourselves at least from the weaker enemy, the Tukholians.”
195
