Empire of Silver Page 3

  ‘Mongke reminds me of my father,’ Tolui said a little wistfully. ‘He fears nothing.’

  Sorhatani snorted softly. ‘Then you will remember what your father once said when he had to choose between two men to lead a thousand.’

  ‘I was there, woman,’ Tolui said, his mind leaping to her point. ‘He said Ussutai feared nothing and felt no hunger or thirst. That was why he was unfit to command.’

  ‘Your father was wise. A man needs to feel a little fear, Tolui, if only to have the pride of conquering it.’

  A wild shout made them both look up as Mongke came over the falls, yelling in excitement as he managed a crude dive and plunged into the pool at its foot. The drop was little more than ten feet, but to a boy of eleven, it must have been terrifying. Tolui relaxed and chuckled as he saw his oldest son surface, blowing and gasping, his teeth very white against his sun-browned skin. Arik-Boke and Hulegu cheered, their voices high as they looked up again for Kublai.

  He came over backwards in a tumble of limbs, moving so fast that he left the torrent of water and fell through empty air. Tolui winced at the flat smack that carried clearly across the water. He watched as the other three looked for him, calling and pointing to each other. Sorhatani felt her husband’s arms tense as he prepared to leap up, but then Kublai surfaced, roaring. His entire body was flushed red on one side and he limped as he climbed out, but they could see he was panting with exhilaration.

  ‘I’ll have to beat some sense into them,’ Tolui said.

  His wife shrugged. ‘I’ll get them dressed and send them to you.’

  He nodded, only half-aware that he had waited for her approval to punish the boys. Sorhatani smiled at him as he walked away. He was a good man, she thought. Not perhaps the strongest of his brothers, nor the most ruthless, but in all other ways, the best of the sons of Genghis.

  As she stood and gathered the clothes her sons had left on every bush around them, she recalled the one man who had made her afraid in her life. She cherished the memory of the time when Genghis had looked on her as a woman, rather than just the wife of one of his sons. It had been on the shore of a lake, thousands of miles away in a different land. She had seen the khan’s eyes brighten at her youth and beauty, just for an instant. She had smiled at him then, terrified and awed.

  ‘Now, there was a man,’ she murmured to herself, shaking her head with a smile.

  Khasar stood on the wooden base of the cart, leaning back against the white felt of the khan’s ger. It was twice as wide and half as high again as the homes of their people, and Genghis had used it for meeting his generals. Ogedai had never claimed the enormous construction, so heavy that the cart had to be pulled by six oxen. After the death of the great khan, it had sat empty for months before Khasar made it his own. As yet, no one had dared to dispute his right to it.

  Khasar smelled the fried marmot meat Kachiun had brought for the midday meal.

  ‘Lets eat outside. It’s too fine a day to sit in the gloom,’ he said.

  As well as the steaming platter, Kachiun carried a fat skin of airag which he tossed to his brother.

  ‘Where are the others?’ he said, placing the platter on the edge of the boards and sitting with his legs swinging.

  Khasar shrugged. ‘Jebe said he would be here. I sent a messenger to Jelme and Tsubodai. They’ll come or they won’t; it’s up to them.’

  Kachiun blew air from his lips in irritation. He should have passed on the messages himself, to be sure his brother didn’t forget or use the wrong words. There was no point in berating the man who was digging his fingers into the pile of steaming scraps. Khasar didn’t change and it was both infuriating and comforting at times.

  ‘He’s nearly finished that city of his,’ Khasar said, chewing. ‘Strange-looking place, with those low walls. I could ride right over them.’

  ‘I think that is his point,’ Kachiun replied. He took a pouch of unleavened bread from another pot, waving his hand to clear the steam as he filled it with meat. Khasar looked baffled and Kachiun sighed.

  ‘We are the walls, brother. He wants people to see that he does not have to hide behind stones like the Chin. Do you understand? The tumans of our army are the walls.’

  ‘Clever,’ Khasar said, munching. ‘But he’ll build walls eventually, you watch. Give him a year or two and he’ll be adding stones. Cities make you afraid.’

  Kachiun stared at his brother, wondering if he had managed a bit of real wisdom. Khasar noticed his sudden interest and grinned.

  ‘You’ve seen it. If a man has gold, he lives with the terror that someone will take it away from him, so he builds walls around it. Then everyone knows where the gold is, so they come and take it. That’s the way it always goes, brother. Fools and gold, together.’

  ‘I never know if you think like a child or a very wise man,’ Kachiun said, filling another pouch and chewing.

  Khasar tried to say ‘wise man’ around a large mouthful and choked, so that Kachiun had to pound him on his back. They had been friends for a very long time.

  Khasar wiped tears from his eyes and took a deep breath and a swig of airag from the bulging skin.

  ‘He’ll need walls at the new moon, I should think.’

  Automatically, Kachiun looked to see if anyone could overhear them. They were surrounded by empty grass, with just their two ponies grazing nearby. Beyond them, warriors were busy in the sun, preparing for the great competition Ogedai had promised. There would be prizes of grey horses and armour for wrestlers and archers, even for those who won foot races across the plains. Everywhere they looked, men were training in groups, but there was no one loitering too close. Kachiun relaxed.

  ‘You have heard something?’

  ‘Nothing, but only a fool would expect the oath-taking to go without a hitch. Ogedai’s not a fool and he’s not a coward. He faced me when I was running wild after…’ He hesitated and his eyes grew distant and cold for a moment. ‘After Genghis died.’ He took another swig of the harsh spirit. ‘If he’d taken the oaths immediately, not a man in the tribes would have dared raise a hand to him; but now?’

  Kachiun nodded grimly.

  ‘Now Chagatai has come into his strength and half the nation wonders why he isn’t going to be khan.’

  ‘There will be blood, brother. One way or another,’ Khasar replied. ‘I just hope Ogedai knows when to be forgiving and when to cut throats.’

  ‘He has us,’ Kachiun said. ‘That is why I wanted to meet here, to discuss our plans for seeing him safe as khan.’

  ‘I haven’t been summoned to his white city for my advice, Kachiun, have you? You don’t know whether he trusts us more than anyone else. Why should he? You could be khan if you wanted. You were Genghis’ heir while his sons grew.’ Khasar saw his brother’s irritation. The camp was full of such talk and both men were tired of it, but Khasar just shrugged.

  ‘Better you than Chagatai, anyway. Have you seen him out running, with his bondsmen? So young, so virile.’

  He leaned over the edge of the cart and spat deliberately on the ground. Kachiun smiled.

  ‘Jealous, brother?’

  ‘Not of him, though I do miss being young sometimes. Now some part of me is always aching. Old wounds, old knees, that time when you completely failed to stop me getting speared in my shoulder – it all hurts.’

  ‘It is better than the alternative,’ Kachiun said.

  Khasar snorted.

  They looked round as Jebe approached, with Tsubodai. Both of Genghis’ generals were in their prime and Kachiun and Khasar shared a glance of private humour at the way they came striding confidently across the summer grass.

  ‘Tea in the pot, meat in the bowl,’ Khasar said without ceremony as they climbed the steps up to the old khan’s ger. ‘We are discussing how to keep Ogedai alive long enough for him to carry the white tails.’

  The symbol of the united tribes still fluttered above his head, horsetails that had once been a riot of tribal colours, until Genghis had bleached
them pale and made them one. No one had dared to remove the symbol of power, any more than they had queried Khasar’s use of the cart.

  Tsubodai made himself comfortable on the wooden edge, his feet dangling as he dug into the meat and bread. He was aware that both Kachiun and Khasar were waiting for what he would say. He did not enjoy the attention and he ate slowly and cleared his throat with airag.

  In the silence, Jebe leaned back against the felt wall and looked at the city in the distance, a white haze in the warm air. He could see the golden dome of Ogedai’s palace and it struck him that it resembled a yellow eye staring out of the city.

  ‘I have been approached,’ Jebe said. Tsubodai stopped chewing and Khasar put down the skin of airag as he was about to drink. Jebe shrugged. ‘We knew one of us would be, sooner or later. It was a stranger to me, wearing no marks of rank.’

  ‘Sent by Chagatai?’ Kachiun said.

  Jebe nodded. ‘Who else? But no names were mentioned. They do not trust me. It was just a light touch, to see which way I would jump.’

  Tsubodai grimaced. ‘You jumped here, in full view of the tribes. No doubt they are watching you now.’

  ‘What of it?’ Jebe said, bridling. ‘I was loyal to Genghis. Do I demand to be known by my birth name, as Zurgadai? I carry the name Genghis gave me, and I am loyal to the son he named as heir. What do I care who sees me talking with his generals?’

  Tsubodai sighed and put aside the final piece of his meal.

  ‘We know who is most likely to disrupt the oath-taking. We do not know how they will do it, or how many men will support them. If you had come to me quietly, Jebe, I would have told you to agree to anything they say and learn their plans.’

  ‘Who wants to go creeping about in the dark, Tsubodai?’ Khasar said scornfully. He looked to his brother for support, but Kachiun shook his head.

  ‘Tsubodai is right, brother. This isn’t just a matter of showing we support Ogedai and all right-thinking men following us. I wish it was. There was never a khan of the nation before Genghis, so there are no laws for how he passes on his power.’

  ‘The khan makes the laws,’ Khasar replied. ‘I didn’t see anyone complaining when he made us all take an oath to Ogedai as heir. Even Chagatai got down on his knees for that.’

  ‘Because his choice was to fall flat or die,’ Tsubodai said. ‘Now Genghis is gone and the men around Chagatai are whispering in his ear. They are saying the only reason he was not heir was his struggle with his brother, Jochi, but Jochi is dead.’

  He paused for a moment, thinking of the blood that had splashed on snow. His face was utterly blank and they could not read him.

  ‘There are no traditions to tell us how to act,’ Tsubodai went on wearily. ‘Yes, Genghis chose his heir, but his mind was clouded with anger over Jochi. It was not so many years ago that he favoured Chagatai over all his brothers. The nation talks of nothing else. At times, I think Chagatai could press his claim openly and become khan. He could walk right up to Ogedai with a sword and fully half the army would not stop him.’

  ‘The other half would tear him to shreds,’ Khasar said.

  ‘And in a stroke, we would have a civil war that would break the nation in two. Everything Genghis built, all our strength, wasted on an internal struggle. How long would it be then before the Chin rose against us, or the Arabs? If that is the future, I would rather see Chagatai take the horsetail banner today.’ Tsubodai held up his hand as they began to protest. ‘That is not a traitor speaking, do not think it. Have I not shown that I followed Genghis, even when everything in me cried out that he was wrong? I will not fail his memory. I will see Ogedai as khan, on my word.’

  Once again, he thought of a young man who had believed his promise of safe passage. Tsubodai knew his word was worthless, where it had once been iron. It was an old grief, but on some days he bled as if he had just been cut.

  ‘You had me worried,’ Khasar said.

  Tsubodai did not smile. He was younger than both the brothers, but they waited patiently for him to speak. He was the great general, the master who could plan any attack on any terrain and somehow snatch victory. With Tsubodai, they knew Ogedai had a chance. Kachiun frowned at the thought.

  ‘You should look to your own safety as well, Tsubodai. You are too valuable to lose.’

  Tsubodai sighed. ‘To hear such words while I sit by the ger of my khan. Yes, I will be careful. I am an obstacle to the one we all fear. You should be sure that your guards are men you trust with your life, who cannot be bribed or threatened without them coming to you. If a man’s wife and children go missing, will you still trust him to watch you as you sleep?’

  ‘That is an ugly thought,’ Jebe said, with a wince. ‘You truly think we are at that point? On such a day I can hardly believe in knives in every shadow.’

  ‘If Ogedai becomes khan,’ Tsubodai went on, ‘he could have Chagatai killed, or simply rule well or badly for forty years. Chagatai will not wait, Jebe. He will try to arrange a death, an accident, or he will try to take it by force. I cannot see him sitting idly by while his life and ambition is decided by others. Not the man I know.’

  Somehow the sun seemed less bright after such cold words.

  ‘Where is Jelme?’ Jebe asked. ‘He told me he would be here.’

  Tsubodai rubbed the back of his neck, making it crack. He had not slept well for many weeks, though he would not mention it to these men.

  ‘Jelme is loyal; don’t worry about him,’ he muttered. Some of the other men frowned.

  ‘Loyal to which son of Genghis?’ Jebe said. ‘There is no clear path in this, and if we do not find one, the nation could be torn apart.’

  ‘Then we should kill Chagatai,’ Khasar said. The others grew still and he grinned at them. ‘I am too old to be guarding my words,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Why should he have it all his own way? Why should I check my personal guards, to be sure no one has turned them against me? We could end this today and Ogedai would be khan at the new moon with no threat of war.’ He saw their cold expressions and spat once again. ‘I won’t dip my head at your disapproval, so don’t expect it. If you prefer to watch your backs for a month and make secret, clever plans, that is up to you. I could cut right through it and see an end. What do you think Genghis would say, if he were one of us, here? He’d walk right in and cut Chagatai’s throat.’

  ‘He might,’ Tsubodai admitted, who knew better than most how ruthless the khan had been. ‘If Chagatai was a fool, I would agree with you. If there could be surprise, yes, it could work. I’d ask you to test it, but you’d get yourself killed. Instead, take my word on this – Chagatai is ready for such a move. Any group of armed men approaching his tuman is met with bristling weapons and warriors ready to charge. He plans murder every day, so he fears it as well.’

  ‘Between us we command enough men to get to him,’ Khasar said, though less confidently.

  ‘Perhaps. If only his ten thousand responded, we could still reach him, but I think it has already gone further than that. Whatever game Ogedai has been playing, he has given his brother two years to whisper and make promises. Without a khan’s shadow, all of us were forced to rule the lands around us, to act as if we were the only voice that mattered. I found I enjoyed it. Did you not feel the same?’ Tsubodai glanced around at the others and shook his head. ‘The nation is falling apart into tribes of tumans, bound not by blood but by the generals who lead them. No, we will not attack Chagatai. My purpose is to prevent civil war, not to be the spark that sets it off.’

  Khasar had lost his keen look as Tsubodai spoke, subsiding with an irritated expression.

  ‘Then we are back to keeping Ogedai alive,’ he said.

  ‘More than that,’ Tsubodai replied. ‘We are back to keeping enough of a nation intact for him to have something to rule as khan. I hope you did not expect me to have an answer on a single day, Khasar. We could win here and see Ogedai with the horsetails, yet watch as Chagatai takes away half the army and half the nation. How
long would it be then before two khans and their armies were facing each other on a field of war?’

  ‘You have made it clear, Tsubodai,’ Kachiun said, ‘but we can’t just sit and wait for disaster.’

  ‘No,’ Tsubodai said. ‘Very well, I know enough to trust you. Jelme is not here because he is meeting two of the generals who may be loyal to Chagatai. I will know more when I have exchanged messages with him. I cannot meet him again – and yes, Khasar, this is the sort of secret game you despise. The stakes are too high to make a false step.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ Khasar said thoughtfully.

  Tsubodai shot a sharp glance at the older man.

  ‘I will also need your word, Khasar,’ he said.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Your word not to act on your own. It is true that Chagatai runs every day, though he does not go far from his warriors. There is a small chance you could arrange archers in place to take him from cover, but if you failed, you would ruin everything your brother worked for, everything that cost the lives of so many of those you loved. The entire nation would go up in flames, Khasar.’

  Khasar gaped at the general who seemed to be reading his very thoughts. His guilty expression was there for all to see as he forced the cold face. Before he could reply, Tsubodai spoke again.

  ‘Your word, Khasar. We want the same thing, but I cannot plan around you, without knowing what you will do.’

  ‘You have it,’ Khasar said grimly.

  Tsubodai nodded as if it was a minor point in a discussion.

  ‘I will keep you all informed. We cannot meet often, with the number of spies in the camp, so we will send trusted messengers. Write nothing down and never use the name of Chagatai again, not after today. Call him the Broken Lance if you must speak of him. Know that we will find a way through.’

  Tsubodai rose smoothly to his feet and thanked Khasar for his hospitality.

  ‘I must leave now, to find out what they promised Jelme in return for his support.’ He bowed his head and climbed lithely down the steps, making Khasar and Kachiun feel old just to watch.