Genghis: Birth of an Empire (47 page)

Temujin sneered. “On his knees? With his hands bound? You are a liar.”

Yuan looked up, his eyes blazing. “I will accept your challenge, if you wish. It does not change anything.”

Temujin slapped him hard enough to rock his head to one side.

“What are you hiding from me?” he demanded.

Behind them, the door opened again and Arslan and Kachiun came inside in a rush, their weapons drawn. The gers were not private to anyone standing close by, and they had heard the struggle. Yuan ignored their blades, though his sullen gaze flickered over Arslan for a moment. As they watched, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I am ready for death, if you choose to take my life,” he said, calmly. “I have brought dishonor to you, as you said.”

Temujin drummed the fingers of one hand on the other as he watched Yuan kneeling on the ground.

“How long has Wen Chao been among my people, Yuan?” Temujin asked.

It seemed to take an effort of will for Yuan to answer, as if he had gone far away.

“Two years,” he said.

“And before him, who did your first minister send?”

“I do not know,” Yuan replied. “I was still with the army then.”

“Your master has bargained with the Tartars,” Temujin continued.

Yuan did not respond, gazing steadily at him.

“I have heard that the khan of the Olkhun’ut betrayed my father,” Temujin said softly. “How could the Tartars approach a great tribe to arrange such a thing? It would take an intermediary, a neutral they both trusted, would it not?”

He heard Kachiun gasp behind him as the news sank in.

“Did you travel to the Olkhun’ut as well? Before the Kerait?” Temujin went on, pressing.

Yuan remained still, as if he were made of stone. “You are talking of a time before my master was even in this land,” Yuan said. “You are looking for secrets where there are none.”

“Before Wen Chao, I wonder who else came among us,” Temujin said, murmuring. “I wonder how many times the Chin have sent their men into my lands, betraying my people. I wonder what
promises
they made.”

The world that had seemed so solid that morning was crumbling all around him. It was too much to take in and Temujin found himself breathing hard, almost dizzy with the revelations.

“They would not want us to grow strong, would they, Yuan? They would want the Tartars and Mongols to tear each other to pieces. Is that not what Wen Chao said to me? That the Tartars had grown too strong, too close to their precious borders?”

Temujin closed his eyes, imagining the cold gaze of the Chin as they considered the tribes. For all he knew, they had been subtly influencing the tribes for centuries, keeping them at each other’s throats.

“How many of my people have died because of yours, Yuan?” he said.

“I have told you all I know,” Yuan said, raising his head. “If you will not believe me, then take my life, or send me back to Wen Chao.” His face hardened as he continued. “Or put a sword in my hand and let me defend myself against these accusations.”

It was Arslan who spoke, his face pale at what he had heard. “Let me, my lord,” he said to Temujin, never taking his eyes from Yuan. “Give him a sword and I will face him.”

Yuan turned to look at the swordsmith, his mouth turning upwards at the edges. Without speaking, he bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the offer.

“I have heard too much. Bind him until dawn and I will decide then,” Temujin said. He watched as Kachiun tied Yuan’s hands expertly. He did not resist or struggle, even when Kachiun kicked him onto his side. He lay by the body of the Tartar he had killed, his face calm.

“Post a guard on him while we eat,” Temujin ordered, shaking his head. “I need to think.”

* * *

A
t the first light of dawn, Temujin paced up and down outside the cluster of small gers, his face troubled. He had not slept. The scouts he had sent away with Khasar had not yet returned, and his thoughts still writhed without answers. He had spent years of his life punishing the Tartars for what they had done, for the life of his father and the lives his sons should have led. If Yesugei had survived, Bekter or Temujin would have become khan to the Wolves and Eeluk would have remained a loyal bondsman. There was a trail of death and pain between the day he had been told and the current one that found him troubled and depressed, his life torn into tatters. What had he accomplished in those years? He thought of Bekter and, for a moment, wished he were alive. The path could have been very different if Yesugei had not been killed.

As Temujin stood alone he felt fresh anger kindle in his chest. The khan of the Olkhun’ut deserved some measure of the misery he had caused. Temujin remembered the revelation he had experienced as a captive of the Wolves. There was no justice in the world— unless he made it for himself. Unless he cut twice as deep as he had been cut and gave back blow for blow. He had the right.

In the dim distance, he saw two of his scouts racing back toward the gers. Temujin frowned at their headlong pace, feeling his heart thump faster. Their arrival had not gone unnoticed and he sensed the camp come alive around him as men pulled on deels and armor, saddling their horses with quick efficiency. He was proud of them all and he wondered again what to do about Yuan. He could not trust him any longer, but Temujin had conceived a liking for the man ever since he had fired an arrow at his chest in the camp of the Kerait. He did not want to kill him.

As the scouts came closer he saw that Khasar was one of them, riding like a maniac. His horse was blowing and lathered in sweat, and Temujin felt the alarm spread through the men who waited for news. Khasar was not one to panic easily, but he rode without thought for his own safety or that of his mount.

Temujin forced himself to remain still while Khasar rode up and jumped to the ground. The men had to see him as different, untouched by their own fears.

“What is it, my brother, to have made you ride so fast?” Temujin asked, keeping his voice steady.

“More Tartars than I have ever seen,” Khasar replied, panting. “An army to make these ones we killed look like a raiding band.” He paused for breath. “You said they might come in force in the spring, and they have.”

“How many?” Temujin snapped.

“More than I could count, a day’s ride at most, probably closer by now. The ones we have killed are just the trailbreakers. There are
hundreds
of carts coming, horses. Maybe a thousand men. I’ve never see anything like it, brother, never.”

Temujin grimaced. “I have news of my own that you will not want to hear. It will wait for this. Water your horse before it drops dead. Have the men mount up and find a fresh pony yourself. I will want to see this army that can frighten my little brother.”

Khasar snorted. “I didn’t say they frightened me, but I thought you might like to know the entire Tartar nation is coming south for your head. That’s all.” He grinned at the idea. “By the spirits, Temujin. We stung them and stung them and now they are roaring.” He looked around at the men who watched, listening to every word. “What are we going to do now?”

“Wait, Khasar. There is something I must do first,” Temujin said. He strode to the ger where Yuan had spent the night, vanishing inside. Arslan and Kachiun went after him and the three men escorted Yuan out into the gray light, where he blinked and rubbed his wrists. His ropes had been cut and Khasar could only stand in amazement, wondering what had happened in his absence.

Temujin faced the Chin soldier.

“I have come to think of you as a friend, Yuan. I cannot kill you today,” he said. As Yuan stood in silence, Temujin brought a saddled pony to him and passed the reins into his hands.

“Return to your master,” Temujin said.

Yuan mounted easily. He looked down at Temujin for a long moment.

“I wish you good fortune, my lord,” Yuan said at last.

Temujin slapped his hand on the pony’s rump, and Yuan went trotting away without looking back.

Khasar came up to his brothers, his gaze following theirs after the retreating soldier.

“I imagine this means I have the left wing,” he said.

Temujin chuckled. “Find a fresh horse, Khasar, and you too, Kachiun. I want to see what you saw.” He looked round to find Jelme already mounted and ready to go.

“Take the men back to the Kerait and tell them an army is gathered. Togrul will have to fight or run, as he pleases.”

“What about us?” Khasar said, bewildered. “We need more than sixty warriors. We need more men than the Kerait can put in the field.”

Temujin turned his face to the south, bitter with memories.

“When I have seen this invading army with my own eyes, we will come back to the lands around the red hill,” he said. “I will find the men we need, but we have another enemy we must face first.” He looked so grim that even Khasar did not speak, and Temujin spoke so quietly they barely heard him.

“My brothers and I have a debt to settle with the Olkhun’ut, Arslan. We could all be killed. You do not have to come with us.”

Arslan shook his head. He did not look at Jelme, though he felt his son’s eyes on him.

“You are my khan,” he replied.

“Is it enough?” Temujin said.

Arslan nodded slowly.

“It is everything.”

T
EMUJIN STOOD with his arms outstretched as the bondsmen of the Olkhun’ut searched him thoroughly. Khasar and Arslan endured the same hands patting down every inch of them. The men who guarded Sansar’s ger sensed the grim moods of the visitors and missed nothing. All three men wore Chin armor over summer deels and silk under-tunics taken from the Tartars. Temujin glared as the bondsmen fingered the strange plates sewn into the heavy cloth. One of the men began to comment on them, but Temujin chose that moment to slap his hand away, as if irritated by the affront to his dignity. His heart beat a fast rhythm in his chest as he stood there, waiting to meet his oldest enemy.

Around them, the ever-curious Olkhun’ut had gathered, chattering to each other and pointing at the strangely garbed men who had disturbed their morning work. Temujin did not see old Sholoi among them, but his glowering uncle was there and Koke had taken possession of their swords once more, disappearing into the khan’s ger to bring news of their arrival. The young warrior had accepted their blades with something like disappointment on his face. Even at a glance, he could tell they were not of the quality that Temujin had carried before. The Tartar workmanship was rough, and the blades had to be sharpened more often than Arslan’s best steel.

“You may enter,” one of the bondsmen said at last. “And you,” he added, pointing to Khasar. “Your friend will have to wait out here.”

Temujin hid his dismay. He was not certain he could trust Khasar to keep his temper under strain, but Kachiun had other tasks that morning. He did not bother to reply and dipped low to pass through the small door, his mind racing.

For once, Sansar was not sitting in the great seat that dominated the ger he used for formal meetings. He was talking in a low voice to two more of his bondsmen as Temujin entered. Koke stood to one side, watching them. The swords they had carried were carelessly piled against the wall, an indication of their value.

At the creak of the door, Sansar broke off his murmuring and stepped up to his seat. Temujin saw that he moved with care, as if age were making his bones brittle. The khan still had the look of an old snake, with his shaved head and sunken eyes that were never still. It was hard for Temujin to look at him without showing a trace of hatred, but he kept the cold face. The Olkhun’ut bondsmen took up positions on either side of their master, glaring at the new arrivals. Temujin forced himself to remember the courtesies owed to a khan of a powerful tribe.

“I am honored to be in your presence, my lord Sansar,” he said.

“Yet again,” Sansar replied. “I thought I had seen the last of you. Why do you trouble me in my home, Temujin? I seem to see more of you than my own wives. What more could you possibly want from me?”

Temujin saw Koke smile out of the corner of his eye, and he flushed at the tone. He sensed Khasar stirring irritably and flashed a warning glance at his brother before speaking.

“Perhaps you have heard of the Tartar army coming fast out of the wastes of the north. I have seen them with my own eyes and I have come to warn you.”

Sansar gave a dry chuckle. “Every wanderer and herdsman for a thousand miles is talking of them. The Olkhun’ut have no quarrel with the Tartars. We have not traveled that far north for forty years, before my time as khan.” His eyes gleamed as he leaned forward in the chair, looking down at the two men standing stiffly before him.

“You have stirred them to war, Temujin, with your raids. You must accept the consequences. I fear for you, I really do.” His tone belied the words and Temujin hoped Khasar would keep silent as he had been ordered.

“They will not respect those tribes who claim no blood feud with them, my lord,” Temujin continued. “I saw a thousand warriors, with as many women and children in their camp. They have come into our lands in greater force than anyone can remember.”

“I am appalled,” Sansar said, smiling. “What then do you propose to do?”

“Stand in their way,” Temujin snapped, his own temper fraying under the older man’s evident amusement.

“With the Kerait? Oh, I have heard of your alliance, Temujin. The news spreads quickly when it is something so interesting. But will it be enough? I don’t think Togrul can bring more than three hundred warriors to that particular feast.”

Temujin took a slow breath, mastering himself. “The Olkhun’ut archers have a high reputation, my lord. With another three hundred of your men, I could—”

He broke off as Sansar chuckled, looking round at Koke and his two bondsmen. Sansar saw the angry expressions of Temujin and Khasar and made an attempt to be serious.

“I am sorry, but the idea was…” He shook his head. “You are here to beg warriors from me? You expect to have the entire strength of the Olkhun’ut ride back under your command? No.”

“The Tartars will take us one tribe at a time,” Temujin said, taking a step forward in his need to persuade the khan. The bondsmen saw the movement and tensed, but Temujin ignored them. “How long will you be safe, once the Kerait have been destroyed? How long will the Quirai survive, the Naimans, the Wolves? We have remained apart for so long, I think you forget we are one people.”