Bones Of the Hills c-3 Read online

  ‘You are welcome in my ger, Jebe. With Arslan to speak for you, you will always be welcome. In the days to come you will be tested. Be sure you honour his name in all that you do.’

  ‘I will, lord,’ Jebe replied. His confidence was obvious and Khasar grinned to himself as Genghis looked away.

  Genghis took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees. He knew as well as anyone that this meeting of generals would change the world, and he enjoyed the quiet moment while they waited for him to speak.

  ‘When you left me to finish the siege of Yenking, I sent envoys to far lands. Some brought back trade goods and made alliances in my name. Others were attacked or have simply not returned.’ He paused, but no man spoke. They were hardly breathing as they listened to the man who would send them out like wolves on the hunt. The entire camp knew war was coming and it was a pleasure to be the first to hear the details.

  ‘One group went into the west, more than two thousand miles. A single scout returned when the rest were slaughtered. At first, I did not think too much of it. It was not so long ago that a raiding party in our own land would have been killed by whichever tribe came first upon them.’

  Some of the older men nodded, though Tsubodai and Jebe could barely recall those times.

  ‘I learned from the scout that the leader of that land is one who calls himself Shah Ala-ud-Din Mohammed.’ Genghis pronounced the name with difficulty, then gestured to Temuge. ‘On my brother’s advice, I sent a group of four hundred warriors, well armed, but only as a threat. They travelled to the closest city, Otrar, and met the governor there. They took letters with my words on them for the shah.’ Genghis grimaced at the memory. ‘I expected him to hand over the men involved, or at least to send word of where they had their camp. I called him “beloved son” and mentioned only trade and friendship.’ At that, he stared coldly at Temuge until his brother looked away. It had been his advice that had failed so spectacularly.

  ‘The bazaar in Otrar is a public place. I sent three spies with the warriors to witness their treatment.’ He showed his teeth for an instant as anger swelled in him. ‘The governor commands a garrison of twenty thousand. They arrested my men and tore up my words in a gesture for the crowd.’ Once more he glared at Temuge.

  ‘Even then, I did not react! This shah is served by a fool, but I thought perhaps he could yet be made to walk a straight path. I learned of greater cities than Otrar in the east and I sent three senior officers to the shah himself, demanding that the governor be bound and handed over to me for punishment and my men freed. In this too, I was scorned.’ His face had grown flushed and the men in the ger felt their own hearts beat faster in response.

  ‘Shah Mohammed sent their heads back to me,’ Genghis went on. He clenched his right fist slowly. ‘I am not the author of this trouble, but I have prayed to the sky father to give me the strength to exact vengeance.’

  In the distance, they heard a man’s voice screaming and more than one head jerked at hearing it. Genghis too listened and nodded, satisfied.

  ‘It is Jochi. My shaman is tending his wounds.’ He looked at Chagatai as he spoke and his son blurted out a question.

  ‘Will he too ride with us?’

  Genghis’ eyes turned distant.

  ‘He killed the tiger, in front of the people. And our numbers have grown.’ His expression hardened at the memory of Chagatai kneeling. ‘As you have a place, so will he, if he lives. We will cross the Altai mountains to the west and show these desert men whom they have chosen to insult.’

  ‘And the Chin lands?’ Khasar said. ‘There are cities more wealthy than any we have seen yet and they lie untouched in the south.’

  Genghis was quiet at that. He still dreamed of bringing the southern Chin empire under his feet. Taking his nation into the west had its risks and it was tempting to send at least one of the men in the ger to crush his ancestral enemy. He remembered the estimates of Chin numbers and grimaced again. Against millions, one tuman would not be enough. Reluctantly, he had decided the Chin must wait to see him on their horizon.

  ‘They will still be there, my brother, when we come back for them. You will see Chin lands again, I promise you.’

  Khasar frowned at that and would have spoken again, but Genghis went on.

  ‘Ask yourself this: for what purpose do we go to war and risk our lives? Is it for gold coins and to build the sort of palaces we tear down? I cannot care for those things. A man spends his life in struggle, from the pain of birth to the last breath.’ He looked round at them all then, his gaze falling finally on Jebe and Chagatai.

  ‘There are some who will tell you they seek happiness, that there is nothing more to our lives than that simple aim. I tell you now that the sheep are happy on the plains and the hawks are happy in the air. For us, happiness is a small thing, one to be discounted in a man’s life. We strive and we suffer because we know through those things that we are alive.’ He snorted. ‘You may want to see the Chin cities humbled, Khasar, but can I let this challenge go unanswered? How long will it be before every small king dares to spit on my shadow?’ His voice grew harder as he spoke, so that it filled the ger. Outside, they could hear another scream from Jochi and it seemed a fitting counterpoint under those yellow eyes. ‘Can I let my people’s deaths go unavenged? Never in this world.’

  He had them all. He knew it, as he had always known.

  ‘When I am gone, I do not want men to say, “Look at his piles of wealth, his cities, his palaces and fine clothes.”’ Genghis paused for a moment. ‘Instead I want them to say, “Make sure he is truly dead. He is a vicious old man and he conquered half the world.”’ He chuckled at the idea and some of the tension went out of the group.

  ‘We are not here to earn riches with a bow. The wolf does not think of fine things, only that his pack is strong and no other wolf dares to cross his path. That is enough.’

  His gaze swept them and he was satisfied. Genghis stood and his manner changed to one of respect as he gestured to Arslan.

  ‘Your horses are ready, general,’ he said. ‘I will think of you resting your bones as we ride.’

  ‘Long life and victory, my lord,’ Arslan said.

  As they all stood, the ger became suddenly crowded. Having the highest rank, Genghis could have left first, but he stood back for Arslan to step out into the light. One by one, they followed until only Jebe remained to stare round at the khan’s ger. The young warrior took it all in and nodded to himself, strangely satisfied at the lack of ornament. He felt the khan was a man to follow and everything Arslan had told him had been confirmed. Jebe grinned lightly with no one to see him. He had been born on a hillside and raised in winters so terrible that his father brought the sheep into the only ger to protect them. His eyes were bright at the memory. Now he would lead a tuman for the khan. If Genghis only knew it, he had loosed a wolf. Jebe nodded to himself, satisfied. He would show the khan what he could do. In time, every man and woman of the tribes would know his name.

  Outside, Arslan checked his packs and mounts one more time, refusing to let the seriousness of the moment alter his routines. Genghis watched him test each knot and give instructions to three herd boys who would accompany him to his first camp. No one spoke until the old man was ready. When he was satisfied, Arslan embraced Jelme and they could all see the son’s eyes were proud. Finally, Arslan stood before Genghis.

  ‘I was there at the beginning, lord,’ Arslan said. ‘If I were younger, I would ride with you to the end.’

  ‘I know it, general,’ Genghis replied. He gestured to the vast camp on the banks of the river. ‘Without you, none of this would be here. I will honour your name always.’

  Arslan had never been a man who enjoyed physical contact, but he took Genghis’ hand in the warrior’s grip and then mounted. His young wife looked up at her husband, proud to see great men honour him with their presence.

  ‘Goodbye, old friend,’ Genghis called as Arslan clicked his tongue and the ponies moved away. The herd
boys used their sticks to move the animals with their master.

  In the distance, they could hear the khan’s son crying out, a mournful wail that seemed to go on and on.

  Moving such a vast host of people and animals was no small task. As well as a hundred thousand warriors, a quarter of a million ponies had to be herded, with as many again of sheep, goats, yaks, camels and oxen. The need for grazing land had grown to the point that the nation could only remain in one place for a month at a time.

  On a frozen dawn, with the sun barely touching the east, Genghis rode through the busy camp, noting every detail of the cart lines with the huddled figures of women and young children on them. The column stretched for miles, always surrounded by the herds. He had lived with the sounds of animals all his life and barely noticed the constant bleating of goats and sheep. His generals were ready; his sons were. It remained to be seen whether the Arab nations were ready to meet them in war. In their arrogance, they had invited annihilation.

  Jochi had survived having his wounds burned. As Genghis had promoted Chagatai to lead a tuman of ten thousand warriors, he could hardly do less for an older son, especially one who had triumphed against a savage beast. The people talked of it still. Yet it would be months before Jochi was able to take his place at their head. Until then, he would travel with the women and children, tended by servants while he healed.

  In the middle of the host, Genghis trotted past the ger of his second wife, Chakahai, who had once been a princess of the Xi Xia kingdom. Her father had remained a loyal vassal for almost a decade and the tribute kept the Mongols in silk and valuable timber. Genghis cursed softly to himself as he realised he had not arranged a way for the tribute to follow him into the west. He could not trust the king to hold it for him. It was one more thing to tell Temuge before the tribes moved. Genghis passed the cart where Chakahai sat in furs with the three children she had borne. His oldest daughter bowed her head and smiled to see her father.

  He did not leave the path to find the carts of Borte and his mother, Hoelun. The two women had become inseparable over the years and would be together somewhere. Genghis grimaced at the thought.

  He passed two men boiling goat meat on a small fire while they waited. They had a stack of unleavened bread pouches ready to pack with meat for the trip. Seeing the khan himself, one of the men offered up a wooden platter with the head on it, touching the white eyes with a finger to make sure Genghis saw them. Genghis shook his head and the man bowed deeply. As the khan moved on, the warrior threw one of the eyes into the air for the sky father before popping the other in his mouth and chewing lustily. Genghis smiled at the sight. His people had not yet forgotten the old ways, or been spoiled by looted riches. He thought of the new way stations that stretched in lines into the east and south, manned by crippled warriors and the elderly. A scout could change horses at a dozen of those places, covering land faster than Genghis would once have believed possible. They had come a long way from the hungry, quarrelling tribes he had known as a boy, but they were still the same.

  In a mass of carts and animals, Genghis dismounted at last, having ridden more than a mile from the head of the column. His sister Temulun was there, she who had been a babe in arms when his own tribe had abandoned him years before. She had grown into a fine young woman and married a warrior from the Olkhun’ut. Genghis had met the man only once at the wedding, but he had seemed healthy and Temulun was pleased with the match.

  As he adjusted the belly strap on his pony, she was ordering Chin servants to collect the last of her belongings. Her ger had been stored before dawn, leaving a black circle on the grass. When she saw Genghis, Temulun smiled and went to him, taking his reins.

  ‘Don’t worry, brother, we are ready, though I cannot find my best iron pot. No doubt it is at the bottom of the packs, under everything else.’ She spoke lightly, but her eyes were questioning. The khan had not visited her even once since she had been properly married. For him to come as they rode to war made her uneasy.

  ‘It will not be long now,’ Genghis told her, losing some of his stiffness. He liked Temulun, though she would always be a child to him in some ways. She could not remember the first winters alone, when the brothers and their mother were hunted and starving.

  ‘Is my husband well?’ she asked. ‘I have not seen Palchuk in three days now.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Genghis admitted. ‘He is with Jebe. I have decided to have Palchuk command a thousand and carry the gold paitze.’

  Temulun clapped her hands with pleasure.

  ‘You are a good brother, Genghis. He will be pleased.’ A slight frown crossed her face as she considered giving her husband the good news.

  ‘Is it for him you have done this, or for me?’

  Genghis blinked at her changing moods.

  ‘For you, sister. Should I not raise my own family? Can I have my only sister’s husband in the ranks?’ He saw her expression remained troubled. This sort of thing was beyond him, though he struggled to understand.

  ‘He will not refuse, Temulun,’ Genghis said.

  ‘I know that!’ she replied. ‘But he will worry that the promotion comes from you.’

  ‘It does,’ Genghis replied.

  Temulun raised her eyes at her brother’s failings for an instant.

  ‘I mean it will matter to him that he did not earn the new rank.’

  ‘Let him prove he is worthy of it then,’ Genghis said with a shrug. ‘I can always take the paitze back.’

  Temulun glared at her brother.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare. Better not to raise him at all than lift and drop him as you please.’

  Genghis sighed to himself.

  ‘I will have Jebe tell him. He is still reordering Arslan’s tuman. It will not be so strange, unless your precious husband is an idiot.’

  ‘You are a good man, Genghis,’ Temulun replied.

  Genghis looked around to see who was close enough to hear.

  ‘Keep it quiet, woman!’ He chuckled to himself, remounting and taking back the reins.

  ‘Leave the pot behind if you cannot find it, Temulun. It is time to go.’

  The restless urge that had made him tour the carts faded away as he rode back to the front. He nodded to his generals and saw that they too felt the same simple pleasure. Their people were on the move again and every day would bring a new horizon. There was nothing like the sense of freedom it brought, with all the world before them. As he reached his brothers and his generals, Genghis blew a long note on a scout horn and urged his pony to a trot. Slowly, the nation moved behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was snowing in the high passes. The Altai mountains were further west than most of the families had ever travelled. Only the Turkic tribes, the Uighurs and the Uriankhai, knew them well and then as a place to avoid, a place of poor hunting and death in the winter.

  Though the mounted warriors could have crossed the range in a single day, the heavily laden carts were ponderous, built for grassy plains and ill-suited to deep snow drifts and goat paths. Tsubodai’s new spoked wheels did better than the solid discs that broke too easily, but only a few carts had been converted and progress was slow. Every day there seemed to be some new obstacle and there were times when the slopes were so steep that the carts had to be lowered on ropes, held by teams of straining warriors. When the air was at its thinnest and men and animals grew exhausted, they were lucky to make five miles in a day. Every peak was followed by a twisting valley and another dogged climb to the best way through. The range seemed to go on endlessly and the families huddled miserably in their furs, exposed to the wind. When they halted, the rush to raise gers before sunset was hampered by frozen fingers. Almost all the people slept under the carts each night, covered in blankets and surrounded by the warm bodies of goats and sheep tethered to the wheels. Goats had to be killed to feed them and the vast herds dwindled as they travelled.

  Thirty days out from the river Orkhon, Genghis called a halt early in the day. The c
louds had come down so low that they touched the peaks around them. Snow had begun to fall as the tribes made a temporary camp in the lee of a vast cliff, soaring into whiteness above their heads. There was at least some protection from the biting wind in that place and Genghis gave the order rather than take them over an exposed ridge that would see them still travelling as the light faded. He had riders out for a hundred miles and more ahead of them, a stream of young warriors who scouted the best path through and reported on anything they found. The mountains marked the end of the world Genghis knew, and as he watched his servants kill a young goat, he wondered how Arab cities would look. Would they resemble Chin fortresses of stone? Ahead of the scouts, he had sent spies to learn what they could of the markets and defences. Anything could be useful in the campaign to come. The first ones out were beginning to return to him, exhausted and hungry. He had the beginnings of a picture in his head, but it was still in fragments.

  His brothers sat with him in the khan’s ger on its cart, above the heads of all the others. Looking out into the whiteness, Genghis could see gers like a host of pale shells, thin trails of smoke rising from them to the skies. It was a cold and hostile place, but he was not discouraged. His nation had no use for cities, and the life of the tribes went on all around him, from feuds and friendship to family celebrations and weddings. They did not have to stop to live: life went on regardless.

  Genghis rubbed his hands together, blowing into them as he watched his Chin servants make a cut in the kid goat’s chest before reaching in and squeezing the main vein around the heart. The goat stopped kicking and they began to skin it expertly. Every piece would be used and the skin would wrap one of his young children against the winter cold. Genghis watched as the servants emptied the stomach onto the ground, shoving out a mulch of half-digested grass. Roasting the flesh inside the flaccid white bag was faster than the slow boil the tribes preferred. The meat would be tough and hard on the teeth, but in such cold it was important to eat quickly and take strength. At the thought, Genghis tested the stump he had broken in his drunken ride to Jelme and winced. It hurt constantly and he thought he might have to get Kokchu to pull the root out. His mood grew sour at the prospect.