Indiscretion
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2009
- Posts
- 480
OOC: Chagatai, Prince of the Urals
6-3, long, loose black hair, brown eyes, braided beard adorned with golden rings, muscular tanned frame, scarred cheek
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Prince Chagatai, cousin to the great Butu Khan, and a noble horse lord of the Horde of Kipzach, or as the Westerners knew it, the Golden Horde, sat erect on his black charger, a few paces ahead of the companions and bodyguards that he had brought with him on this journey Westward. His tight brown horse-leather bodkin and riding trousers did little to disguise his powerful frame and there was no doubt to anyone who cared to observe the Prince for even a moment that he would be more than capable of dispatching most foreseaable threats to his person with the short javelins in his saddle-quiver or, if necessary, the ugly, curved scimitar attached scabardless to his simple leather belt. His retinue was no less fearsome: 12 horse warriors, each sitting atop magnificent horses, armed with horse bows, javelins and swords. Looking small by comparison, and entirely unnecessary, was an escort of 4 ducal guards, bearing the Duke's sigil on their shields, pennants and caparisonned horses.
Few, if any, of the commoners of Danzig that lined the streets to see the small, foreign procession had ever seen Khanate horse warriors before. Only a handful of old, and in some cases maimed veterans, who had fought in wars on the Eastern frontier with Rus and beyond, had encountered them before. These old, sad-looking men stayed toward the back of the crowd, looking nervous and haunted by old memories. The remainder of the crowd surged to the street to see the little parade, children bustling to get a better look at the horses and the weapons, men craning their necks curiously to see who this warlike visitor was and if the stories of the Mongols standing 7 feet tall and being part-horse, part-man had any truth to them. Women held their children close, but even for them there was an urge closely to examine these enormous, aggressive-looking brutes, who dwarfed the men of Danzig both in physical stature and presence.
Chagatai appeared to be oblivious to the commoners in the street. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, at the palace of the Duke of Danzig, over the ancient bridge to the town square. His black charger pressed steadily on, throwing her head and whinnying at the unfamiliar press of the city crowd, but true to her master's touch. Although he and his men had never travelled this far West before, and despite the fact that these rich cities in the centre of Christendom featured heavily in the ambitions of Chagatai and the great Batu Khan himself, the horse Prince paid scant notice to the shops, churches and markets of the city of Danzig. Chagatai's warrior instincts seemed to guide him and his men to the administrative centre of the city; not once did he look to the escorts to guide him and, indeed, they lagged behind, fighting their way through the crowds, as they appeared to lack the ability of Chagatai and his mean to penetrate the crush of people on the streets.
At the gate of the palace, the horse lords were met by a small contingent of palace guards, including the Captain of the Guard, and some stablehands, who reached to take the reins of the Mongols' horses. Chagatai and his men proceeded towards the stairs leading to the grand palace entrance as if the Polish men did not exist. The horses simply stepped up the stairs in a tight formation, their hooves clicking loudly on the tiles, and took their riders through the doors into the palace. There was some commotion as the guardsmen pursued them on foot and the palace attendants and curious courtiers scrambled to avoid being knocked aside by the foreigners, but Chagatai and his men appeared unperturbed by the chaos that they were creating.
Once again appearing to be guided by instincts, Chagatai led his troop down a wide corridor to the open doors to the Main Hall of the palace, where Duke Swietopelk II, the aged but statesmanlike Duke of Danzig, sat on his throne, flanked by his wife, the ancient and dignified Duchess, and surrounded by a small cluster of ministers and courtiers. The rest of the room was filled with what appeared to Chagatai to be more people than would be customary, as there were not chairs or even space to accommodate them all. Although Chagatai was unfamiliar with the customs of the West, he detected an atmosphere in the throne room similar to the atmosphere at the feasts and celebrations of his people. Chagatai knew why this was so. The lords and ladies and courtiers crowded into the throne room must have known of the deal that the Duke and he had struck the previous month, when the Duke's ambassador had made the last of several perilous journeys Eastwards beyond the Urals.
Swietopelk had reigned over Danzig for many years and was by now an old man, highly regarded by his vassals and liege alike. He had a reputation as a wise and strong ruler, and few thought that he would take kindly to his Khanate visitors riding roughshod into his throne room. So, many were surprised when the old, snowy-haired man struggled to his feet, drew his ceremonial sword and lifted it to his nose in a martial salute to the foreign prince. None had ever seen Swietopelk stand in his own throne room for any save his own liege, the Duke of Pomerania, much less salute a visiting savage of the Golden Horde, no matter how powerful that Empire had grown in the wilderness to the East.
Some, however, understood the reason for the respect paid by the Duke. Those few close advisers and those privy to the inner goings-on of Court intrigue realised just how vital was the involvement of Prince Chagatai to Swietopelk's rule, and to the succession of the Duchy of Danzig to his heir. For Swietopelk's power was threatened by the Duke of Pomerelia to the West, and Swietopelk's Pomeranian liege and allies were themselves occupied in an attempt to depose the Pomeranian Duke, a rebellion in which Swietopelk had adroitly managed to avoid involving himself. But while his allies fought amongst themselves, the rich demesne of Danzig was an inviting target to the Pomerelians. An ancient claim had been ventilated, armies were being raised, and a declaration of war loomed in the following days. Swietopelk and his council knew that this was not a war that Danzig stood any chance of winning without the help of its powerful Pomeranian allies.
Chagatai also knew this. Although his lands were far to the East and his people shunned the diplomatic manoeuvring of the Christian lords, Chagatai was no fool. When word had reached Swietopelk that a Polish diplomat had braved the harsh Russian roads to find a Khanate lord prepared to enter into an alliance with his liege, Chagatai had had his men do some investigations of his own and learned the reality fo the dispute between Danzig and Pomerelia and the precarious hold that old Swietopelk still had on his title. He had invited the ambassador to his camp for parlay. And over the succeeding months had been able to drive a very hard bargain indeed. Even now, wagonloads of gold and silver were making their way Eastwards in heavily defended convoys, as part payment for the alliance that Chagatai was about to confer on the Duke of Danzig.
The last instalment of the payment would be claimed today, and that is why the nobility of Danzig and its surrounding counties were gathered today in the main hall of the palace. The Duke had finally acceded to Chagatai's last request: that Chagatai be permitted to visit Danzig, surveil all of the ladies of the Court and choose one of them as a concubine, regardless of station, age, and marital status. Chagatai's wife had died childless suddenly from the wasting sickness and there was considerable pressure amongst Chagatai's men for him to produce an heir or risk the threat of internal rebellion amongst his brothers and cousins and others with claims to his title. Chagatai could have had his selection of Mongol women. But he had already selected his Mongol wife, and she had died. It amused him now to pluck a European woman from the court of this feeble, powerless Duke and take her home as a trophy to his people. He didn't even propose to marry the woman, merely to ad her to his stable of concubines and, possibly, if there was male issue of the union to legitimize the bastard to ensure his succession with the added prestige of a half-European heir. So tenuous was the Duke's grip on his title that he was willing to risk an open revolt of his vassals and excommunication by the Pope by letting this barbarian take one of the ladies of Danzig, potentially the wife of a powerful lord, back to the Urals with him.
The Duke spoke in Polish. "Welcome, your Highness. Your might is well known and we celebrate it here today. We celebrate also this new alliance of Danzig and Ural, may it prosper eternally for mutual benefit." The Duke had arranged for one of the few men in the realm who spoke the Mongol tongue to be present to translate. He spoke in a timid voice, slowly and unconvincingly. Chagatai nodded briefly at the Duke, showing neither respect nor contempt but rather indifference. The court looked to Chagatai expectantly, but he sat silently on his huge horse, looking, if anything, amused.
The Duke looked embarrassed and whispered a few hushed words to a nearby servant and musicians hurriedly began to play, and a small troupe of acrobats emerged from a corner of the hall, preparing to perform tumbling tricks. The doors to the kitchen were thrown open and the smells of a great feat being prepared wafted into the hall as servants appeared with cups of wine and small parcels of food to be eaten as appetisers to the meal that would follow.
Chagatai frowned at this and squinted his suntanned face at the Duke. He barked a few words in his strange, guttural tongue. The translator nervously coughed and said, "The Prince has asked that you prepare the ...uh... ladies. The Prince says she shall take what he is owed. The ladies are to line up."
There was tittering amongst the crowd. This is not quite what they had expected. They had all heard about the details of the truce between the Duke and Chagatai; they knew that the Mongol was expecting to leave with a lady of the court of Swietopelk, although few realized that he was claiming a concubine and not a wife and even fewer understood that it may be a married lady. In any case, the notion of this foreign brute on horse back selecting a Polish lady like a whore from a line up was completely unpalatable. There was even some laughter from some of the more rash young lords in attendance, although that was cut short by a sharp look from one of Chagatai's men.
Chagatai continued to stare at the Duke expectantly. The old man's face clouded as he met Chagatai's gaze. "Do as he says. All of the ladies."
There was an appalled silence in the room as the nobles of Danzig witnessed the utter humiliation of their daughters, sisters and cousins, standing in their fine clothes, being ogled by uncivilized monsters from the East.
Chagatai did not move and continued to stare darkly at the Duke, waiting. The Duke murmured, in a weak but audible voice, "All of the ladies, I said. Married and unmarried alike, betrothed and unbetrothed."
There was a veritable commotion in the Court as the magnitude of the scandal became clear. No-one except the Duke's closest advisers had realized that this was part of the bargain that Chagatai had struck. There were affronted cries of reproach as the men of the court understood what was being perpetrated. For a moment, there seemed to be a risk that there would be an impromptu revolt of sorts, as dark threats made their way around the throne room, with no attempt to disguise them. Chagatai was not surprised by this. His people would never have permitted even him to behave the way that he had forced Swietopelk to. Swietopelk, however, had anticipated this, and the entire company of the palace guard was lining the walls of the throne room, and at a nod from their Captain, they stepped forward as one in unison, placing their hands on the hilts of their swords. That sight, and the sight of the imposing Mongol riders, was enough to control the crowd of courtiers, although the muttering did not cease.
At another nod from the Duke, the guardsmen gently but firmly ushered the ladies of the Court, young and old, to join the queue of unmarried women standing before the horse lords. There was some resistance from a few of the women, especially some of the older women of senior rank, but everyone in the room knew the depth of the military catastrophe in which the Duke found himself and understood that he had very deliberately made this deal with Chagatai and would not back out of it at this late stage.
The Duke was staring at the ground by this point, deeply ashamed, but as the silence continued for an uncomfortably long period of time, the Duke slowly looked up to meet the burning stare of the Mongolian Prince. No words had to be spoken. The Duke turned weakly to look at his wife, the old Duchess. Her expression was inscrutable as she rose slowly and feebly from her seat and joined the ladies of the Court standing before the warriors of the Khanate. Chagatai's humiliation of the court of Danzig was complete.
Chagatai nodded to his cousin, Dawlat, a brutish, tanned man with a thick, rough beard and braided hair, who proceeded to count the ladies standing before him. Dawlat nodded at his lord. There were 42, which was consistent with the number that Chagatai had obtained from his sources. In age, they stretched from young girls to the ancient wife of the Duke and in appearance from wizened crones to fresh, fertile-looking young girls and women. It seemed that all the ladies of the Court had attended this function expecting some kind of gala in which barbarians would be on show. They were dressed in their most expensive finery, ripe to be inspected by the horse lords who had recently ridden straight from the Urals.
Chagatai finally dismounted and proceeded slowly to walk down the line of women assembled before him, examining each closely, as he would examine horseflesh at the marketplace. He did not hesitate to grip biceps or feel the hips of the women he passed, and even to reach up and part their lips so he could examine their teeth.
About two-thirds of the way down the line, he paused to examine a fair blonde and buxom lady. He did not know it, but her whole life she had been celebrated as one of the great beauties of the Court and, despite being the daughter of a relatively minor baron, had been married to the Count of Neuslettin 4 years before, on her 14th birthday, and had since produced 3 children for him, the youngest of which a baby whom she had hastily given to her attendant when she had been mustered by the guardsman to join the parade of ladies. Chagati stopped and faced her, grabbing her jaw firmly but not harshly in his hands and forcing her to look up at him. He squinted down at her and the Countess smelled sweat and horsesweat and other exotic smells she did not recognize. With the quick hands of the skilled swordsman, he ran his hands from her impressive bust, creamy cleavage magnificently displayed by the striking gown that she wore and accentuated by her rich necklace, down to her childishly narrow waist and across her rump. He grunted approvingly, the first noise he had made since entering the throne room and grabbed the woman roughly by her arm. Pulling the lady firmly behind him, Chagatai paused briefly at Dawlat's horse and lifted her easily by the waist, handing her to his cousin, who settled her side saddle behind him on his horse. Chagatai then easily swung into his own saddle, and with an incomprehensible shout, led his retinue out the giant doors of the throne room in a clatter of hooves.
6-3, long, loose black hair, brown eyes, braided beard adorned with golden rings, muscular tanned frame, scarred cheek
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Prince Chagatai, cousin to the great Butu Khan, and a noble horse lord of the Horde of Kipzach, or as the Westerners knew it, the Golden Horde, sat erect on his black charger, a few paces ahead of the companions and bodyguards that he had brought with him on this journey Westward. His tight brown horse-leather bodkin and riding trousers did little to disguise his powerful frame and there was no doubt to anyone who cared to observe the Prince for even a moment that he would be more than capable of dispatching most foreseaable threats to his person with the short javelins in his saddle-quiver or, if necessary, the ugly, curved scimitar attached scabardless to his simple leather belt. His retinue was no less fearsome: 12 horse warriors, each sitting atop magnificent horses, armed with horse bows, javelins and swords. Looking small by comparison, and entirely unnecessary, was an escort of 4 ducal guards, bearing the Duke's sigil on their shields, pennants and caparisonned horses.
Few, if any, of the commoners of Danzig that lined the streets to see the small, foreign procession had ever seen Khanate horse warriors before. Only a handful of old, and in some cases maimed veterans, who had fought in wars on the Eastern frontier with Rus and beyond, had encountered them before. These old, sad-looking men stayed toward the back of the crowd, looking nervous and haunted by old memories. The remainder of the crowd surged to the street to see the little parade, children bustling to get a better look at the horses and the weapons, men craning their necks curiously to see who this warlike visitor was and if the stories of the Mongols standing 7 feet tall and being part-horse, part-man had any truth to them. Women held their children close, but even for them there was an urge closely to examine these enormous, aggressive-looking brutes, who dwarfed the men of Danzig both in physical stature and presence.
Chagatai appeared to be oblivious to the commoners in the street. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, at the palace of the Duke of Danzig, over the ancient bridge to the town square. His black charger pressed steadily on, throwing her head and whinnying at the unfamiliar press of the city crowd, but true to her master's touch. Although he and his men had never travelled this far West before, and despite the fact that these rich cities in the centre of Christendom featured heavily in the ambitions of Chagatai and the great Batu Khan himself, the horse Prince paid scant notice to the shops, churches and markets of the city of Danzig. Chagatai's warrior instincts seemed to guide him and his men to the administrative centre of the city; not once did he look to the escorts to guide him and, indeed, they lagged behind, fighting their way through the crowds, as they appeared to lack the ability of Chagatai and his mean to penetrate the crush of people on the streets.
At the gate of the palace, the horse lords were met by a small contingent of palace guards, including the Captain of the Guard, and some stablehands, who reached to take the reins of the Mongols' horses. Chagatai and his men proceeded towards the stairs leading to the grand palace entrance as if the Polish men did not exist. The horses simply stepped up the stairs in a tight formation, their hooves clicking loudly on the tiles, and took their riders through the doors into the palace. There was some commotion as the guardsmen pursued them on foot and the palace attendants and curious courtiers scrambled to avoid being knocked aside by the foreigners, but Chagatai and his men appeared unperturbed by the chaos that they were creating.
Once again appearing to be guided by instincts, Chagatai led his troop down a wide corridor to the open doors to the Main Hall of the palace, where Duke Swietopelk II, the aged but statesmanlike Duke of Danzig, sat on his throne, flanked by his wife, the ancient and dignified Duchess, and surrounded by a small cluster of ministers and courtiers. The rest of the room was filled with what appeared to Chagatai to be more people than would be customary, as there were not chairs or even space to accommodate them all. Although Chagatai was unfamiliar with the customs of the West, he detected an atmosphere in the throne room similar to the atmosphere at the feasts and celebrations of his people. Chagatai knew why this was so. The lords and ladies and courtiers crowded into the throne room must have known of the deal that the Duke and he had struck the previous month, when the Duke's ambassador had made the last of several perilous journeys Eastwards beyond the Urals.
Swietopelk had reigned over Danzig for many years and was by now an old man, highly regarded by his vassals and liege alike. He had a reputation as a wise and strong ruler, and few thought that he would take kindly to his Khanate visitors riding roughshod into his throne room. So, many were surprised when the old, snowy-haired man struggled to his feet, drew his ceremonial sword and lifted it to his nose in a martial salute to the foreign prince. None had ever seen Swietopelk stand in his own throne room for any save his own liege, the Duke of Pomerania, much less salute a visiting savage of the Golden Horde, no matter how powerful that Empire had grown in the wilderness to the East.
Some, however, understood the reason for the respect paid by the Duke. Those few close advisers and those privy to the inner goings-on of Court intrigue realised just how vital was the involvement of Prince Chagatai to Swietopelk's rule, and to the succession of the Duchy of Danzig to his heir. For Swietopelk's power was threatened by the Duke of Pomerelia to the West, and Swietopelk's Pomeranian liege and allies were themselves occupied in an attempt to depose the Pomeranian Duke, a rebellion in which Swietopelk had adroitly managed to avoid involving himself. But while his allies fought amongst themselves, the rich demesne of Danzig was an inviting target to the Pomerelians. An ancient claim had been ventilated, armies were being raised, and a declaration of war loomed in the following days. Swietopelk and his council knew that this was not a war that Danzig stood any chance of winning without the help of its powerful Pomeranian allies.
Chagatai also knew this. Although his lands were far to the East and his people shunned the diplomatic manoeuvring of the Christian lords, Chagatai was no fool. When word had reached Swietopelk that a Polish diplomat had braved the harsh Russian roads to find a Khanate lord prepared to enter into an alliance with his liege, Chagatai had had his men do some investigations of his own and learned the reality fo the dispute between Danzig and Pomerelia and the precarious hold that old Swietopelk still had on his title. He had invited the ambassador to his camp for parlay. And over the succeeding months had been able to drive a very hard bargain indeed. Even now, wagonloads of gold and silver were making their way Eastwards in heavily defended convoys, as part payment for the alliance that Chagatai was about to confer on the Duke of Danzig.
The last instalment of the payment would be claimed today, and that is why the nobility of Danzig and its surrounding counties were gathered today in the main hall of the palace. The Duke had finally acceded to Chagatai's last request: that Chagatai be permitted to visit Danzig, surveil all of the ladies of the Court and choose one of them as a concubine, regardless of station, age, and marital status. Chagatai's wife had died childless suddenly from the wasting sickness and there was considerable pressure amongst Chagatai's men for him to produce an heir or risk the threat of internal rebellion amongst his brothers and cousins and others with claims to his title. Chagatai could have had his selection of Mongol women. But he had already selected his Mongol wife, and she had died. It amused him now to pluck a European woman from the court of this feeble, powerless Duke and take her home as a trophy to his people. He didn't even propose to marry the woman, merely to ad her to his stable of concubines and, possibly, if there was male issue of the union to legitimize the bastard to ensure his succession with the added prestige of a half-European heir. So tenuous was the Duke's grip on his title that he was willing to risk an open revolt of his vassals and excommunication by the Pope by letting this barbarian take one of the ladies of Danzig, potentially the wife of a powerful lord, back to the Urals with him.
The Duke spoke in Polish. "Welcome, your Highness. Your might is well known and we celebrate it here today. We celebrate also this new alliance of Danzig and Ural, may it prosper eternally for mutual benefit." The Duke had arranged for one of the few men in the realm who spoke the Mongol tongue to be present to translate. He spoke in a timid voice, slowly and unconvincingly. Chagatai nodded briefly at the Duke, showing neither respect nor contempt but rather indifference. The court looked to Chagatai expectantly, but he sat silently on his huge horse, looking, if anything, amused.
The Duke looked embarrassed and whispered a few hushed words to a nearby servant and musicians hurriedly began to play, and a small troupe of acrobats emerged from a corner of the hall, preparing to perform tumbling tricks. The doors to the kitchen were thrown open and the smells of a great feat being prepared wafted into the hall as servants appeared with cups of wine and small parcels of food to be eaten as appetisers to the meal that would follow.
Chagatai frowned at this and squinted his suntanned face at the Duke. He barked a few words in his strange, guttural tongue. The translator nervously coughed and said, "The Prince has asked that you prepare the ...uh... ladies. The Prince says she shall take what he is owed. The ladies are to line up."
There was tittering amongst the crowd. This is not quite what they had expected. They had all heard about the details of the truce between the Duke and Chagatai; they knew that the Mongol was expecting to leave with a lady of the court of Swietopelk, although few realized that he was claiming a concubine and not a wife and even fewer understood that it may be a married lady. In any case, the notion of this foreign brute on horse back selecting a Polish lady like a whore from a line up was completely unpalatable. There was even some laughter from some of the more rash young lords in attendance, although that was cut short by a sharp look from one of Chagatai's men.
Chagatai continued to stare at the Duke expectantly. The old man's face clouded as he met Chagatai's gaze. "Do as he says. All of the ladies."
There was an appalled silence in the room as the nobles of Danzig witnessed the utter humiliation of their daughters, sisters and cousins, standing in their fine clothes, being ogled by uncivilized monsters from the East.
Chagatai did not move and continued to stare darkly at the Duke, waiting. The Duke murmured, in a weak but audible voice, "All of the ladies, I said. Married and unmarried alike, betrothed and unbetrothed."
There was a veritable commotion in the Court as the magnitude of the scandal became clear. No-one except the Duke's closest advisers had realized that this was part of the bargain that Chagatai had struck. There were affronted cries of reproach as the men of the court understood what was being perpetrated. For a moment, there seemed to be a risk that there would be an impromptu revolt of sorts, as dark threats made their way around the throne room, with no attempt to disguise them. Chagatai was not surprised by this. His people would never have permitted even him to behave the way that he had forced Swietopelk to. Swietopelk, however, had anticipated this, and the entire company of the palace guard was lining the walls of the throne room, and at a nod from their Captain, they stepped forward as one in unison, placing their hands on the hilts of their swords. That sight, and the sight of the imposing Mongol riders, was enough to control the crowd of courtiers, although the muttering did not cease.
At another nod from the Duke, the guardsmen gently but firmly ushered the ladies of the Court, young and old, to join the queue of unmarried women standing before the horse lords. There was some resistance from a few of the women, especially some of the older women of senior rank, but everyone in the room knew the depth of the military catastrophe in which the Duke found himself and understood that he had very deliberately made this deal with Chagatai and would not back out of it at this late stage.
The Duke was staring at the ground by this point, deeply ashamed, but as the silence continued for an uncomfortably long period of time, the Duke slowly looked up to meet the burning stare of the Mongolian Prince. No words had to be spoken. The Duke turned weakly to look at his wife, the old Duchess. Her expression was inscrutable as she rose slowly and feebly from her seat and joined the ladies of the Court standing before the warriors of the Khanate. Chagatai's humiliation of the court of Danzig was complete.
Chagatai nodded to his cousin, Dawlat, a brutish, tanned man with a thick, rough beard and braided hair, who proceeded to count the ladies standing before him. Dawlat nodded at his lord. There were 42, which was consistent with the number that Chagatai had obtained from his sources. In age, they stretched from young girls to the ancient wife of the Duke and in appearance from wizened crones to fresh, fertile-looking young girls and women. It seemed that all the ladies of the Court had attended this function expecting some kind of gala in which barbarians would be on show. They were dressed in their most expensive finery, ripe to be inspected by the horse lords who had recently ridden straight from the Urals.
Chagatai finally dismounted and proceeded slowly to walk down the line of women assembled before him, examining each closely, as he would examine horseflesh at the marketplace. He did not hesitate to grip biceps or feel the hips of the women he passed, and even to reach up and part their lips so he could examine their teeth.
About two-thirds of the way down the line, he paused to examine a fair blonde and buxom lady. He did not know it, but her whole life she had been celebrated as one of the great beauties of the Court and, despite being the daughter of a relatively minor baron, had been married to the Count of Neuslettin 4 years before, on her 14th birthday, and had since produced 3 children for him, the youngest of which a baby whom she had hastily given to her attendant when she had been mustered by the guardsman to join the parade of ladies. Chagati stopped and faced her, grabbing her jaw firmly but not harshly in his hands and forcing her to look up at him. He squinted down at her and the Countess smelled sweat and horsesweat and other exotic smells she did not recognize. With the quick hands of the skilled swordsman, he ran his hands from her impressive bust, creamy cleavage magnificently displayed by the striking gown that she wore and accentuated by her rich necklace, down to her childishly narrow waist and across her rump. He grunted approvingly, the first noise he had made since entering the throne room and grabbed the woman roughly by her arm. Pulling the lady firmly behind him, Chagatai paused briefly at Dawlat's horse and lifted her easily by the waist, handing her to his cousin, who settled her side saddle behind him on his horse. Chagatai then easily swung into his own saddle, and with an incomprehensible shout, led his retinue out the giant doors of the throne room in a clatter of hooves.
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