Bones of the Hills (32 page)

Jelaudin shook his head, despairing. One more night on the ground would have killed his father, he was sure of it. If it was Allah’s will that they be taken that night, at least it would be in dry clothes, with a meal inside their shrunken bellies. Better that than to have the wolves fall on them as they slept in fields like lambs.

“My son?” his father called, his voice querulous. Jelaudin pressed a cool hand to his father’s forehead, almost recoiling from the heat there. A fever was raging through him and he was not certain the old man even knew him.

“Shh, Father. You will wake the stableboys here. We are safe for the night.”

His father tried to say something else, but a coughing fit broke the
words into meaningless bursts of sound. The Shah leaned over the edge of the bed to hawk and spit weakly into the bucket. Jelaudin grimaced at the sound. Dawn was close and he had not slept; could not sleep with his father needing him.

The Caspian Sea was more than a hundred miles west of that shabby little town in the middle of moonlit fields. Jelaudin had never traveled beyond it. He could hardly imagine the lands or the people there, but he would be hiding among them if the Mongol line continued to sweep them further and further from home. He and his brothers were desperate to break through those who herded them, but how could it be done? He had even left three men hidden under wet leaves, so that the Mongols would pass them by. If they had survived, they would have brought help as winter came, surely? Every noise in the night was terrifying to the Shah and his sons, and there were no smiles anymore at the enemy who would not stop, would not ever stop until they ran them into the ground.

Shah Ala-ud-Din Mohammed sank back exhausted onto the straw pallet Jelaudin had found for him. His sons would sleep in the filthy stable and still it was better than anything they had known for months. Jelaudin listened to his father’s breathing become quieter and silently cursed the old man for his illness. They seemed to travel a shorter distance each day, and Jelaudin doubted the Mongols moved as slowly.

As his father slept, Jelaudin considered going to ground, as he had all through the hot months. He had needed the horses while there was a chance of breaking through, but if they sold or killed the animals and entered a city as a group of travelers, how could the Mongols ever find them? They were only men, for all the fiendish skill of their trackers. He had urged the Shah to stop at the ancient slave city of Almashan, but the old man would not hear of hiding like beggars. The very idea seemed to wound him. It had been hard enough to stop his father announcing their presence to the city elders and defying the Mongols from the walls.

To stop was to die, Jelaudin was certain of it. The army chasing his father brought terror with them, and few cities would sacrifice their own families for the Shah and his sons. The moment the Mongols surrounded a city, Jelaudin knew he would be handed over or murdered in his sleep. He had few choices left. Jelaudin stared through the darkness at the man who had given orders all his life. It was a hard thing to accept that the Shah was too frail to know best how to avoid the animals
on their trail. Though Jelaudin was the oldest son, he did not feel ready to scorn his father’s will.

“We will stop, Father,” he whispered suddenly. “We will hide the horses and ourselves in a town. We have enough money to live simply while you recover your strength. They will pass us by. Let them be blind, Allah. If it is your will, let them pass us by.”

His father could not hear through his delirium, the fever working its way into his lungs and leaving less and less each day to draw breath.

ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE TOWN OF NUR
, Genghis strolled with his wives and brothers behind a cart drawn by camels. Though the days were short in winter, the breeze barely carried a chill. For those who had known ice and snow every year of their childhood, it was almost a spring day. His mind was clear and calm for the first time in months, and he looked with pride as little Tolui managed the animals with a slap of the reins. His youngest son was barely fourteen, but the wedding ceremony had come at the demand of the girl’s father. Two years older than Tolui, she already nursed a baby boy in her ger and was pregnant with another child. It had taken a word from Borte to Genghis to make the marriage happen before one of the girl’s relatives was reluctantly forced to declare blood feud on the khan’s son.

The girl was already showing her second pregnancy, though her family had tried their best to conceal it with voluminous robes. No doubt her mother was looking after the firstborn boy, Genghis mused as he walked. Tolui and the girl, Sorhatani, seemed besotted with each other, if careless with the laws of the tribes. It was not uncommon for young girls to get themselves pregnant, though Sorhatani showed unusual spirit in binding Tolui to her without her father’s consent. She had even come to Borte to ask that Genghis name the first son. The khan had always admired that sort of brazen courage and he was
pleased with Tolui’s choice. He had called the boy Mongke, meaning “eternal,” a fitting name for one who would carry his blood. As Genghis walked, he considered declaring all children legitimate, whether they were born after marriage or not. It would save trouble in the future, he was certain.

“When I was a boy,” Genghis said a little wistfully, “a young man might have traveled for days to reach his bride’s tribe.”

Khasar snorted at the idea. “I have four wives, brother. If I had to do that each time I wanted a new one, I’d never get anything done.”

“I am amazed any of them put up with you,” Borte said, smiling sweetly. She made a gesture with her little finger to Chakahai, causing her to giggle.

Genghis grinned at his first wife. It lifted his spirits to see her smile, standing tall and strong, her bare arms tanned from the sun. Even Chakahai’s pale skin had taken a golden hue in the hot months, and both women glowed with health. He was pleased to catch Borte’s wink as she noticed him looking her over. She and Chakahai seemed to have reached an understanding after the Shah’s attack on the families. At least he did not have to watch them too closely when they were together, in case they erupted like cats in a bag. It was peace of a sort.

“The nation does need children, Borte,” he replied. Khasar chuckled lasciviously in response, making Borte and Chakahai roll their eyes at each other. Khasar had fathered seventeen children that he knew of and was justly proud of having fourteen of them live. With the exception of Temuge, Genghis’s brothers had done their part in swelling the nation with squalling brats to run wild among the gers. Temuge too had married, but the union had produced no children as yet. Instead, his youngest brother filled his days with the administration of tribal disputes. Genghis glanced at him, but Temuge was ignoring Khasar and watching Tolui step down from the cart. For once, Genghis felt mellow toward his youngest brother. Temuge had created his own little empire within the nation, with a staff of eighty men and women working for him. Genghis had heard he even taught them reading and writing. It seemed to work and Genghis was pleased his brother did not come to him with the problems he faced each day. In contrast to the long strides of his warrior brothers, Temuge walked in short, fussy steps and wore his long hair tied in a Chin style. He washed far too often and Genghis could detect a scent of perfumed oil about him as the breeze blew. There had been a time when Genghis had been ashamed for him, but Temuge seemed content and the tribes had slowly accepted his authority.

The bride’s family had made their small camp to the west of Nur, setting out their gers in the traditional style. Genghis saw Tolui hesitate as armed men came racing out to intercept him. The blue robe and gold tunic his son wore were unmistakable even at a distance.

Genghis smiled as the men of the family put on their show. They seemed unaware of the thousands who had come to witness the union and waved their swords as if genuinely affronted. Tolui bowed deeply to Sorhatani’s father. Genghis could not help but wince. Tolui was the son of the Great Khan, after all. With Sorhatani already a mother, her father would hardly have sent Tolui away for showing less respect.

Genghis sighed to Borte, knowing she understood. Tolui was a good son, though he seemed to lack the fire of his father and uncles. Perhaps it was growing up in the shadow of Jochi and Chagatai. Genghis slid a glance to his right, where those two young men walked with Ogedai. His two oldest sons had not put aside their differences, but that was a problem for another day.

The bride’s father relented at last, letting Tolui into his gers to greet his wife-to-be. Genghis and his wives walked closer to the family gathering as Kokchu blessed the land and threw drops of black airag into the air for the watching spirits.

“He is a fine son,” Kachiun said, clapping both his brother and Borte on the back. “You must be proud of him.”

“I am,” Genghis replied. “Though I doubt he could lead. He is too soft to hold men’s lives in his hands.”

“He is young yet,” Borte said immediately, shaking her head in reproof. “And he has not had your life.”

“Perhaps he should have. If I had left the boys to survive in the winters of home instead of bringing them here, perhaps they would all be khans.” He could sense both Jochi and Chagatai listening, though they pretended not to.

“They will be yet, brother,” Khasar said. “You’ll see. The lands we have taken need men to rule them. Give him a few years and set him up as Shah of one of these desert kingdoms. Leave a tuman to support him and he’ll make you proud, I do not doubt it.”

Genghis nodded, pleased at the compliment to his boy. He saw Temuge turn with sudden interest at Khasar’s words.

“That is a good thought,” Temuge said. “In the Chin lands, we often had to take the same city more than once. Some resisted even after a second raid and had to be destroyed. We cannot just ride over them and expect them to remain defeated.”

Genghis grimaced slightly at that “we.” He did not recall Temuge riding against cities, but on such a day, he let it pass. His youngest brother went on blithely.

“Give me the word and I will have good men left behind in every city we take from this absent Shah, to rule in your name. In ten years or twenty, you will have an empire to match the Chin and Sung combined.”

Genghis recalled an old conversation with a tong leader in the Chin city of Baotou. The man had suggested something similar then, all those years ago. It was a difficult concept for him. Why would a man want to rule a city when the plains were open and empty? Yet the idea intrigued him and he did not scorn his brother’s words.

The bride’s family could not possibly have fed so many, but Temuge had ordered every stove in the camps lit for the wedding feast. Vast mats of felt were unrolled on the dusty ground and Genghis sat with his brothers, accepting a skin of airag and a steaming bowl with a dip of his head. Around them, the mood was light and songs began to issue from throats as they celebrated the union of his youngest son. In that place, with the town of Nur having surrendered only two days before, Genghis felt more relaxed than he had for many months of war. The destruction of Otrar had not lanced the corruption from his rage. Instead it had grown. He had pushed them all hard, but with the Shah still alive, Genghis felt driven to wreak devastation on the man’s lands. A line had been crossed in the attack on the women and children, and in the absence of the Shah himself, Genghis had punished his people in the only way he knew.

“I do not like the idea, Temuge,” he said at last. His brother’s face fell before Genghis went on. “But I do not forbid it. I do not want these Arabs to come creeping back when we have passed by. If they live, it will be as slaves.” He struggled not to let anger surface in him as he went on. “Ruling a city would be a good reward for old warriors, perhaps. A man like Arslan might be renewed by the challenge.”

“I will send scouts to find him,” Temuge replied instantly.

Genghis frowned. He had not meant Arslan himself. Yet, he still missed the old man and he could not find a reason to object.

“Very well, brother. But send for Chen Yi in Baotou as well, if he is still alive.”

“That little criminal!” Temuge said, spluttering. “I did not mean to give power to just
anyone.
He has the city of Baotou already, brother. I can name a dozen men more suited to the work I have in mind.”

Genghis waved a hand impatiently. He had not wanted to begin the discussion, and now it threatened to overwhelm him and spoil the day.

“He understood the sort of thing you mean, Temuge, which makes him valuable. Offer him gold and power. He may still refuse, I do not know. Do I have to repeat myself?”

“Of course not,” Temuge said. “We have spent so long at war, it is hard to think of what must come after, but…”

“You
haven’t spent much time at war,” Khasar said, poking him with an elbow.
“You
have spent your time with sheaves of paper, or playing the khan with your servant girls.”

Temuge colored instantly and would have replied, but Genghis held up a hand for peace.

“Not
today,” he said, and both men subsided, glowering at each other.

Near the city, Genghis saw a group of his warriors surge to their feet. He rose instantly, suddenly wary as three of them trotted through the lively crowd toward him. Whatever disturbed their meal had not yet spread to the rest, and more than one family cursed aloud as the warriors jumped over or darted around them. Many had brought dogs to the feast and those animals barked excitedly.

“What is it?” Genghis demanded. If one of the young idiots had started a fight on his son’s wedding day, he would have his thumbs.

“There are people coming out of the town, lord,” the warrior replied, bowing low.

Without another word, Genghis, Kachiun, and Khasar strode through the crowd to the edge facing the city. Though they were on foot, they were all well armed in the habit of men who always had a blade or a bow in easy reach.

The men and women coming out of Nur did not look dangerous. Genghis watched curiously as perhaps sixty men and women walked across the ground between the wedding ceremony and Nur. They were dressed in bright colors that were the match of Tolui’s marriage robe, and they did not seem to be carrying weapons.