Bones of the Hills. Conn Iggulden
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once more aware of how he stood. The king would be on his way and his torment would come to an end. He could stand an itch a little longer: just the thought of relief made it seem bearable.
The bell boomed again and servants slid back screens, opening the hall to the scent of pines from the surrounding hills. Despite himself, Chagatai let out a sigh as the intense heat began to lessen. The crowd moved subtly as they strained to see the king and Chagatai used the distraction to dig two fingers into his armpit and scratch vigorously. He sensed Jelme’s gaze flicker to him and resumed his impassive expression as the king of the Koryo people entered at last.
None of them were tall, Chagatai thought, as he saw the diminutive monarch waft through a carved doorway. He supposed the man’s name was Wang, after his family, but who knew or cared how these wiry little people named each other? Chagatai looked instead at a pair of serving girls in the king’s retinue. With their delicate golden skin, they were far more interesting than the man they served. The young warrior stared as the women fussed around their master, arranging his robes as he seated himself.
The king did not seem aware of the watching Mongols as he waited for his attendants to finish. His eyes were almost the same dark yellow as Genghis’, though they lacked his father’s ability to inspire terror. Compared with the khan, the Koryon king was just a lamb.
The servants finished their tasks at last and the king’s gaze finally focused on the arban of ten warriors Jelme had brought. Chagatai wondered how the man could bear such thick cloth on a summer’s day.
When the king spoke, Chagatai could not understand a word. Like Jelme, he had to wait for the translation into the Chin language he had struggled to master. Even then, he could hardly catch the meaning and listened in growing frustration. He disliked foreign languages. Once a man knew the word for a horse, why use another? Obviously Chagatai understood that men from far lands might not know the right way of speaking, but he felt they owed it to themselves to learn and not continue their gibberish, as if all tongues were of equal value.
‘You have kept your promises,’ the translator said solemnly, interrupting Chagatai’s thoughts. ‘The Khara-Kitai fortresses have burned for many days and that foul people have gone from the high and beautiful land.’
Silence fell again and Chagatai shifted uncomfortably. The court of the Koryo seemed to delight in slowness. He recalled his experience of the drink they called ‘nok cha’. Jelme had frowned at the way Chagatai emptied his cup in a gulp and held it out for another. Apparently, the pale green liquid was too valuable to be drunk like water. As if one warrior should care how another ate or drank! Chagatai ate when he was hungry and often forgot to attend the elaborate meals of the court. He could not understand Jelme’s interest in pointless rituals, but he had not spoken his thoughts aloud. When he ruled the Mongol nation, he would not allow pretension, he vowed to himself. Food was not something to linger over, or prepare in a thousand flavours. It was no wonder that the Koryon people had come so close to being conquered. They would be required to speak one language and eat perhaps no more than two or three different dishes, prepared quickly and without fuss. It would leave more time for training with weapons and exercise to make the body strong.
Chagatai’s wandering thoughts stilled as Jelme spoke at last, apparently having weighed every word.
‘It is fortunate that the Khara-Kitai chose to attack my scouts. Our needs met in their destruction. I speak now for the great khan, whose warriors have saved your country from a terrible enemy. Where is the tribute promised by your ministers?’
As the translation droned, the king stiffened slightly in his seat. Chagatai wondered if the fool took some insult from the words. Perhaps he had forgotten the army camped outside the city. At a single command from Jelme, they would burn the polished beams around the king’s head. It was still a mystery to Chagatai why they had not. Surely Genghis had sent them out to hone their skills? Chagatai appreciated distantly that there was an art in negotiating that he had yet to learn. Jelme had tried to explain the need to deal with foreign powers, but Chagatai could not see it. A man was either an enemy or a friend. If he was an enemy, everything he owned could be taken. Chagatai smiled as he completed the thought. A khan needed no friends, only servants.
Once more, he daydreamed about ruling his people. The tribes would never accept his brother, Jochi, if he was even the khan’s son at all. Chagatai had done his part in spreading the rumour that Jochi was the result of a rape, many years before. Genghis had allowed the whispers to grow deep roots by his distant manner towards the boy. Chagatai smiled to himself at the memories, allowing his hand to drift to the hilt of his sword. His father had given it to him rather than Jochi, a blade that had seen the birth of a nation. In his most private heart, Chagatai knew he would never take an oath to Jochi.
One of the king’s ministers leaned close to the throne to exchange whispered words. It went on long enough for the ranks of courtiers to wilt visibly in their robes and jewels, but at last the minister retreated. Once more the king spoke, his words translated smoothly.
‘Honoured allies may accept gifts in token of a new friendship, as has been discussed,’ the king said. ‘One hundred thousand sheets of oiled paper have been prepared for you, the labour of many moons.’ The assembled crowd of Koryon nobles murmured at the words, though Chagatai could not imagine why paper would be seen as valuable. ‘Ten thousand silk vests have been sewn and the same weight added in jade and silver. Two hundred thousand kwan of iron and the same in bronze have come from the mines and the guild of metalworkers. From my own stores, sixty tiger skins have been wrapped in silk and made ready to travel with you. Finally, eight hundred cartloads of oak and beech are the gift of the Wang dynasty, in thanks for the victory you have brought to the Koryon people. Go now in peace and honour and count us always as allies.’
Jelme nodded stiffly as the translator finished.
‘I accept your tribute, majesty.’
A slight flush had appeared on his neck. Chagatai wondered if the general would ignore the king’s attempt to save face. Tribute was given to conquerors and Jelme stood in silence for a long time as he considered the king’s words. When he spoke again, his voice was firm.
‘I ask only that six hundred young men between the ages of twelve and sixteen be added to it. I will train them in the skills of my people and they will know many battles and great honour.’
Chagatai struggled not to show his approval. Let them choke on that, with their talk of gifts and honoured allies. Jelme’s demand had revealed the true balance of power in the room and the courtiers were visibly distressed. The silence stretched in the hall and Chagatai watched with interest as the king’s minister bowed close once more. He saw the king’s knuckles whiten as his grip on the armrest tightened. Chagatai was tired of their posturing. Even the smooth-limbed women at the king’s feet had lost their allure. He wanted to get out into the cool air and perhaps bathe in the river before the sun lost its heat.
Yet Jelme did not move a muscle and his glare seemed to make the men around the king nervous. Their darting glances were wasted on the silent warriors as they stood and waited for a certain outcome. The city of Songdo had fewer than sixty thousand inhabitants and an army of no more than three thousand. The king could assume whatever airs he wanted, but Chagatai knew the truth of the situation. When the answer came at last, it was no surprise.
‘We are honoured that you would accept so many young men into your service, general,’ the king said.
His expression was sour, but Jelme responded to the interpreter, mouthing further expressions of goodwill that Chagatai drowned out. His father had called Jelme home after three years of scouting the east. It would be good to see the mountains again and Chagatai could barely restrain his impatience at the thought. Jelme seemed to think this paper would be important, though Chagatai doubted Genghis would value it. In that, at least, his father was predictable. It was a good thing Jelme had demanded silk and hard woods as well. Those things were worth having.
Without an obvious signal, the bell sounded again in the courtyard outside, ending the audience. Chagatai watched the servant girls as they readied their master to stand and fell in behind him. He