Bones of the Hills. Conn Iggulden
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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