Genghis: Birth of an Empire (22 page)

He still remembered how the sons of Yesugei had dared to stare at him as he left them behind. If it had been that morning, he would have cut them down himself. Four years before, he had barely placed his hands on the reins of the tribe and did not know how much they would stand from him. Yesugei had taught him that much, at least. The tribes would bear a great deal from those who led them, but there was always a point to watch for, a line not to cross.

Surely the first winter had taken those skinny children and their mother? It was a strange thing to be moving back into an area with so many memories. The camp for that night was a temporary one, a place to let the horses grow fat again on good grass. In a month or so, they would be moving back to the lands around the red hill. Eeluk had heard the Olkhun’ut too had returned to the area, and he had brought the Wolves north with more than a few half-formed dreams of conquest. The airag heated his blood and made him itch for a fight, or the woman waiting in his ger.

Eeluk drew in a deep breath, reveling in the frozen air. He had lusted after cold on the humid nights in the south, when his skin was red with bites and strange parasites that had to be cut out with a knife tip. The air in the north felt cleaner and already the coughing sickness had dwindled among the tribe. One old man and two children had died and been left on the hills for the hawks, but the Wolves were lighthearted as they traveled back to lands they knew.

“Tolui!” Eeluk called, though the idea was only part formed. He glanced to one side, where his bondsman rose from a crouch to stand by his shoulder. Eeluk watched the massive figure as he bowed, and felt the same sense of satisfaction as when he looked over their swelling herds. The Wolves had done well in the last great gathering of tribes, winning two of the short races and only losing the longest by a single length. His archers had been honored and two of his bondsmen had wrestled their way to the final rounds of the competition. Tolui had reached the fifth bout and was given the title of Falcon, before being beaten by a man of the Naimans. Eeluk had made him a bondsman as a reward, and with a year or two more to grow his strength, he would wager on Tolui to beat all comers. The powerful young man was fiercely loyal and it was no coincidence that Eeluk called on one who had been raised up by his own hand.

“You were just a boy when we last rode in the north,” Eeluk said. Tolui nodded, his dark eyes without expression. “You were there on the day we left the old khan’s children and his wife.”

“I saw it, but there was no place for them,” Tolui replied, his voice deep and sure.

Eeluk smiled. “That is it. There was no place for them any longer. We have grown rich since we came south. The sky father has blessed us all.”

Tolui did not respond and Eeluk let the silence grow as he considered what he wanted done. It was nothing more than ghosts and old wounds, but he still dreamed of Hoelun and woke, sweating. Sometimes she would be writhing naked under him and then he would see her bones jutting through the flesh. It was nothing, but the lands around the old mountain brought the past back from ashes.

“Take two men you can trust,” Eeluk said.

Tolui grew tauter as he loomed over his khan, eager to please him.

“Where will you send us?” he said, waiting for an answer while Eeluk filled his mouth with the airag and swallowed.

“Return to the old hunting grounds,” he said at last. “See if they still live, any of them.”

“Should I kill them?” Tolui asked.

There was nothing but simple curiosity in his voice, and Eeluk rubbed his swollen stomach while he thought. At his side was the sword that had once belonged to Yesugei. It would be fitting to end his line with a few swift cuts from that blade.

“If they have survived, they will be living like animals. Do what you want with them.” He paused for a time, remembering the defiance of Bekter and Temujin as he watched the flames. “If you find the oldest boys, drag them here, to me. I’ll show them what the Wolves have become under a strong khan before we give them to the birds and spirits.”

Tolui bowed his heavy head and murmured, “Your will,” before turning away to gather his companions for the ride. Eeluk watched him go in the firelight, seeing how he walked with firm, certain steps. The tribe had forgotten the children of Yesugei. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who remembered.

* * *

T
olui rode out from the camp with Basan and Unegen. Both of his companions were approaching thirty years of age, but they were not men born to lead as he was. Tolui reveled in his strength, and though he had seen only eighteen winters, he knew they feared his temper. For the powerful young bondsman, it was something he kept only barely under rein, enjoying the nervous glances he earned from older men. He saw how they moved with care in the coldest months and how they favored their knees. Tolui could come from sleep and leap up ready to work or fight, proud of his youth.

Only Eeluk had never shown the slightest hesitation, and when Tolui had challenged him to wrestle, the khan had thrown him so hard he had broken two fingers and a rib. Tolui took a perverse pride in following the only man who could match his strength, and there was no one more loyal among the Wolves.

For the first three days, they rode without speaking. The older warriors kept a wary distance from Eeluk’s favorite, knowing how quickly his mood could change. They scouted the land right up to the red hill, noting how the grass had grown thick and sweet for the herds Eeluk would drive before the tribe. It was good land and no other tribe had claimed it for this season. Only a few distant herders spoiled the illusion of being alone on the vast plains.

On the twelfth day, they sighted a solitary ger next to a river and galloped up to it. Tolui called “
Nokhoi khor
” to have the wanderer herdsmen hold their dogs, then jumped down onto the springy turf, striding to the low door and ducking inside. Basan and Unegen exchanged glances before following him in, their faces set hard and cold. Both men had known each other since they were boys, before even Yesugei had ruled the Wolves. It galled them to have the arrogant young Tolui leading them, but they had both grasped the chance to see what had become of those they had left behind.

Tolui accepted the bowl of milky salt tea in his huge hands, slurping it noisily as he sat on an ancient bed. The other men joined him after bowing their heads to the herdsman and his wife, who were watching the strangers in frank terror from the other side of their home.

“You have nothing to fear,” Basan said to them as he accepted his tea, earning himself a scornful glance from Tolui. The young bondsman cared nothing for those who were not Wolves.

“We are looking for a woman with five sons and a daughter,” Tolui said, his deep voice too loud in the small ger. The herdsman’s wife looked up nervously and Basan and Unegen felt a sudden quickening of their pulses.

Tolui too had noticed the response.

“You know them?” he said, leaning forward.

The herdsman pressed himself backwards, clearly intimidated by the bulk of this strange warrior. He shook his head.

“We have heard of them, but we do not know where they are,” he said.

Tolui held the man’s gaze, his body utterly still. His mouth opened slightly, showing white teeth. A threat had come into the ger and they could all feel it.

Before anything else could be said, a young boy came running through the door, skidding to a stop when he saw the strangers in his parents’ home.

“I saw the horses,” he said, looking around with wide, dark eyes.

Tolui chuckled and before anyone else could move, he reached out and pulled the child onto his knee, turning him upside down and swinging him. The little boy giggled, but Tolui’s face was cold and the herdsman and his wife stiffened in fear.

“We need to find them,” Tolui said over the boy’s laughter. He held him without apparent effort with his arms outstretched, flipping the child over so that he stood upright on Tolui’s knees.

“Again!” the boy said, breathlessly.

Tolui saw the mother begin to rise and her husband grip her arm.

“You know them,” Tolui said, with certainty. “Tell us and we will go.” Once more, he swung their son upside down, ignoring the delighted cries. Tolui tilted his head to watch their reaction. The mother’s face crumpled.

“There is a woman with boys, a day’s ride to the north in a small camp. Just two gers and a few ponies. They are peaceful people,” she said, almost in a whisper.

Tolui nodded, enjoying the power he had over her while her son chuckled oblivious in his arms. When they could not bear it any longer, he set the boy on the floor and pushed him toward his parents. The mother embraced her son, squeezing her eyes shut as she held him.

“If you are lying, I will come back,” Tolui said. The danger was clear in his dark eyes and the hands that could so easily have broken their son. The herdsman would not meet his gaze, staring at his feet until Tolui and his companions had left.

As they mounted outside, Tolui noticed a heavyset dog come ambling out from behind the ger. The animal was too old to hunt and stared at the strangers with whitish eyes that suggested he was almost blind. Tolui bared his teeth at the dog and it responded with a low growl, deep in its throat. He chuckled then, stringing his bow in swift, sure movements. Basan watched frowning as Tolui sent a shaft through the dog’s throat. The animal spasmed, making coughing sounds as they dug in their heels and rode away.

Tolui seemed to be in a fine humor when they cooked a meal for themselves that night. The dried mutton was not too old and the cheese was slightly rancid, sparkling on the tongue as they chewed and swallowed.

“What are the khan’s orders for when we find them?” Basan asked.

Tolui glanced over at the older man, frowning as if the question were an intrusion. He enjoyed cowing other warriors with his glares, backed always by a strength that could knock a pony to its knees with a single blow. He did not answer until Basan had looked away from him and another little struggle had been won.

“Whatever I choose, Basan,” he said, savoring the idea. “Though the khan wants the older boys dragged back. I will tie them to the tails of our mounts and make them run.”

“Perhaps these are not the ones we are looking for,” Unegen reminded the young warrior. “They have gers and ponies, after all.”

“We’ll see. If they are, we’ll bring the mounts back with us, as well,” Tolui said, smiling at the thought. Eeluk had not imagined there could be spoils, but no one would dispute Tolui’s right to take the possessions of the family of Yesugei. Their fate had been shown on the day the tribe left them. They were outside the laws of hospitality, mere wanderers with no khan to protect them. Tolui belched to himself as he pulled his hands inside his deel for sleep. It had been a good day. A man could hardly ask for more.

* * *

T
emujin wiped sweat from his eyes as he tied the last crosspiece of wood together to make a small corral for their sheep and goats to give birth. The small herd had grown, with only a few mouths to feed, and two years before, the brothers had gone amongst the wanderers to trade wool and meat for felt. They had bartered for enough to make two small gers, and the sight of them never failed to raise Temujin’s spirits.

Khasar and Kachiun were practicing their archery nearby, with a target made from thick layers of felt wrapped in cloth. Temujin stood and stretched stiff muscles, leaning on the fence to watch them and thinking back to the first months when death and the winter stalked every step. It had been hard on them all, but their mother’s promise had been good. They had survived. Without Bekter, the brothers had grown a bond of trust and strength between them as they worked every hour of daylight. It had hardened them all, and when they were not working with the herd or preparing goods for trade, they spent every moment honing their skills with weapons.

Temujin touched the knife at his belt, kept sharp enough to slice through leather. In his ger there was a bow the equal of anything his father had owned, a beautiful weapon with an inner curve of shining horn. It was like pressing a knife edge to the fingers to draw its string back, and Temujin had spent months hardening his hands to bear the weight. It had not yet killed a man, but he knew it would send a shaft straight and true if he needed it.

A cool breeze came across the green plains and he closed his eyes, enjoying the way it dried his sweat. He could hear his mother in the ger with Temuge and little Temulun, singing to both her youngest children. He smiled at the sound, forgetting for a time the struggle of their lives. He did not often find peace, even in fragments. Though they traded with single herdsmen and their families, it had come as a surprise to find there was another society beneath the great tribes grazing across the land. Some of them had been banished for crimes of violence or lust. Others had been born without the protection of a khan. They were a wary people and Temujin had dealt with them only to survive. To one born in a khan’s ger, they were still tribeless men and women, beneath contempt. Temujin did not enjoy being one of their number, and his brothers shared the same frustration. As they grew into men, they could not help but remember the way their lives should have run. A single day had stolen all their futures, and Temujin despaired when he thought of scratching a life with a few goats and sheep until he was old and weak. That was what Eeluk had taken from them. Not just their birthright, but the tribe, the great family that protected each other and made life bearable. Temujin could not forgive those hard years.

He heard Kachiun shout with pleasure and opened his eyes to see a shaft in the very center of the target. Temujin straightened and strolled over to his brothers, his gaze automatically scanning the land around them as he had a thousand times before. They could never be safe and they lived with the fear that they would see Eeluk riding back with a dozen grim men at any moment.

That sense of foreboding was a constant in their lives, though it had dulled with time. Temujin had seen that it was possible to live beneath the notice of the great tribes as other wanderer families did. Yet it could all be taken from them by a single raiding party out for sport— at any moment, they could be hunted like animals and their gers torn apart or stolen.