The Tiger Queens (24 page)

Then one day as the sun was beginning to wake, we saw the black outline of Onggud walls on the horizon.

Olon Süme was stark and hard, an unnatural scar on the gentle swell of the earth, as if men had forced the settlement onto the Earth Mother’s back. The city was surrounded by hundreds of grazing two-humped camels, more numerous than the blades of grass on the hills. I’d rarely spent much time around my mother’s camels; we kept our horses separate from the awkward, humped beasts due to their natural animosity toward each other, but still, I’d never seen so many camels all together. I was accustomed to the smell of animals, but a foreign stench burrowed into my nostrils and made my gorge rise as we passed the shaggy beasts: human waste, accumulated years of animal dung, and the musk of too many unwashed bodies crammed together. I reared back like a whipped horse, wanting to bury my head in Neer-Gui’s mane and gulp the hot desert air I had never thought to miss.

“The Onggud have herders who travel with the seasons, but most
remain within the safety of the walls.” My father’s voice was soothing, and I recognized the tone he often used to calm frightened horses. “And there are treasures within those walls that will make up for the stink.”

Still, I didn’t move until Shigi cleared his throat. “Now would be a good time to avail yourself of your mother’s gifts, Alaqai.”

Panic made it impossible to speak, but I beckoned for my cart and opened the trunk that had been carefully sealed all this time against the desert sands. I’d overheard my father’s men tell tales of Onggud women who had been fed perfumes since infancy so the bees and butterflies followed them, infatuated with their fragrance. Another story claimed their noblewomen painted their faces with yellow lead and their lips with the ashes of fragrant flowers. Their women were skilled at poetry and dance, song and a variety of musical instruments. I was only a girl expert with a bow and arrow, my father’s blood in my veins my only commendation.

Inside the trunk was my meticulously folded red
deel
, and under it, the tall
boqta
I’d worn to leave my mother. I shook out the robe and slipped it over my travel clothes, the familiar scent of my mother’s cook smoke making my eyes sting and my fingers fumble with the elaborate bone toggles, which resembled galloping horses. Already my neck ached from the weight of the headdress, and I could scarcely balance it atop my head as we finally approached the walls. Nervous herders scurried back inside the city at our approach, their camels unperturbed, and soldiers called down to us, their words a foreign jangle in my ears.

Turkic.

The Onggud lived at a crossroads of the steppe, between the Turks and the Jurched. While I had realized this, I hadn’t thought to be entirely cut off from communicating with the people I would rule. Panic threatened to overwhelm me once again.

My father answered back in Mongolian, his command clear and steady. “Tell Ala-Qush, Prince of Beiping, that Genghis Khan is at his gates and requests admittance into the city of Olon Süme.” He motioned with his scimitar behind him, his lip curving up in a dangerous grin. “And my men request admittance as well.”

The soldiers scurried away like rats to do my father’s bidding, and I
could almost hear their hearts pounding at the thought of the bloody conqueror at their gates. It was an image my father liked to propagate, to save the trouble of unnecessary battles.

“Ala-Qush speaks our language,” he said, eyeing me. “I have no doubt that soon you’ll speak all the Onggud languages. Shigi will help you.”

It wasn’t just Turkic I heard as people began to gather along the walls, but a cauldron of strange tongues. All around, flat-faced people stared down at us. Realization dawned in their curious eyes at the sight of this strange girl in a
beki
’s headdress and her father with his sixteen hundred men. The expressions of more than a few hardened into glares before they averted their eyes.

I remembered my mother’s words and tilted my chin, resisting the urge to straighten the ungainly headdress.
The chatter of its beaded strings did little to drown out the furious whispers.

A soldier approached through the open gates, the tall wooden panels carved with plodding tortoises, smaller relatives to the golden tortoise that carried the earth on its back, and still another sign that the fire in my soul would clash with these people I must now rule. “The Great Ala-Qush of the Onggud, Prince of Beiping, bids you welcome to our city,” he said, his voice wavering. “He asks you to proceed to the Great House.”

The walls closed in upon us as we entered and headed toward the Great House. I expected a palatial tent like my mother’s, large enough to hold at least thirty men, but Ala-Qush’s residence was smaller and built from polished wood with a birch roof. Tiny weather-beaten houses huddled around it like nervous old women, and a man almost Ogodei’s size and dressed in shimmering blue silk stood outside the door. Ala-Qush stepped forward to greet my father, his arms outstretched in welcome even as he stared at me from a face that screamed of his white-boned ancestry. I refused to drop my gaze but clasped my pommel as his upper lip curled before smoothing into a stiff smile of welcome.

I could see it in his eyes—Ala-Qush didn’t relish the idea of marrying me; he only wanted the alliance our union would bring. In that moment I would have traded the stars in the sky to appear more like delicate Sorkhokhtani and less like myself.

“The Onggud welcome the Khan of Khans and his most esteemed daughter to our town,” Ala-Qush said. I was a foreigner come to rule over them, to use them for her father’s conquests, and I was under no illusions; one wrong move and they’d feed me to the wolves, then rejoin their ancient alliance with the Tanghut.

“Ala-Qush.” My father remained on his horse, as befitted a Khan greeting his vassal. “It is with a glad heart that I bring you my favorite daughter. May the two of you cleave as one heart until the end of your days.”

Ala-Qush offered a hand to help me from my saddle, but I swung my leg over and dismounted without assistance. His brows jumped in surprise, but I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. If so, his pleasure wouldn’t last long. “And it is with a glad heart that I shall take Alaqai Beki as my wife tomorrow,” he said to my father.

There came a snort of derision from behind Ala-Qush. A sallow-skinned woman stood straight-backed, dressed in a
deel
that shimmered in the sunlight, although it was too rough to be silk. Two children flanked her, a boy with a thick nest of black hair and wide ears like a jerboa, and a thin-lipped girl almost my height. Both bore Ala-Qush’s broad cheeks and flat nose and this woman’s sharp chin. I wished I still sat astride Neer-Gui then, for my knees threatened to buckle under their scathing glares.

Not only had I supplanted this woman, but my future children would outrank hers. From her expression, I could guess that a bleak and possibly very short future stretched before me, one in which I had to fear a pillow over my face every night and test each bite of horsemeat or sip of goat’s milk. It would take more than simply setting me above this woman for her to obey me.

“Shall you introduce me to your family?” I asked Ala-Qush, gesturing to the boy and girl.

Ala-Qush motioned stiffly to his wife, twice my age and with the leathery skin of the desert lizards I’d shot in the Great Dry Sea. Unlike in the stories, she wore no yellow lead on her face, but her skin was so pallid that the paint might have been an improvement. “This is Orbei, mother of my sons Jingue and Boyahoe.”

Only one son stood on the platform now, but I didn’t dare ask what had happened to the other. At least not yet.

“And your daughter?” I asked. “What is her name?”

Ala-Qush quirked an eyebrow at that, for it was uncommon to inquire about a girl-child. “She is called Enebish.”

Enebish.
The name meant
Not This One
, an entreaty to malicious spirits not to carry off a weak child. As the only girl, Enebish would have been seen as frail, although the young woman who glowered at me now seemed far from weak.

Ala-Qush’s son reminded me of Tolui when he was about seven years old, with rosy cheeks and a shock of hair that partially obscured his eyes. His round ears only made him more endearing, although it would be unfortunate if he never grew into them. He was the only one to offer me a smile, revealing a chipped front tooth, at least until his mother’s hand on his shoulder made him wince.

“Our firstborn is not here,” Orbei sneered. “Jingue was called to leave Olon Süme in order to purify his mind.”

Our firstborn.

His absence during my arrival was a slight no one could ignore. I wondered what heinous thoughts Ala-Qush’s former heir needed to purge from his mind, whether they perhaps revolved around the heathen girl who had come to supplant his mother and bear sons who would replace him.

I fluttered my fingers in the air, seemingly unconcerned. “A shame. I’d thought to meet all of my husband’s children today.”

Orbei clucked sympathetically, but I wasn’t fooled. “It’s unfortunate when life doesn’t adhere to your plans, isn’t it?”

Some demon urged the next words from my tongue unbidden.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Although I’m pleased I was able to meet my husband’s
former
wife.”

Orbei’s eyes narrowed to slits and for a moment I feared she would spit at me. Instead, she drew back, and Ala-Qush’s brow furrowed, his gaze skittering from me to my father. Better to do this right away, surrounded by plenty of witnesses.

“Surely you’ve already set aside your other woman, as I’m to be your first and
only
wife?”

Those words were a gamble that would alter the course of my life, although I didn’t yet know it.

Enebish cried out at the insult to her mother, but my father didn’t balk at the change of plans, and for that I loved him even more. He glanced at Orbei, then to Ala-Qush. “Or perhaps the Prince of Beiping has yet to do as I commanded?”

My future husband was pinned, surrounded by sixteen hundred of the fiercest warriors in the world. I could tell from his expression that he didn’t relish the feeling, the hint of bloodlust in the air. Neither did I.

There was a rustle like whispers as Orbei shifted on her feet, the wattle under her chin twitching with anger.

“I don’t recall being asked to set aside my wife.” Ala-Qush’s jaw clenched, but he dared not refute my father’s supposed request. “Perhaps in my old age, I’ve forgotten the details of our negotiations.”

I almost laughed at that. Ala-Qush had seen more than twice my years, but he was scarcely an old man. He’d have to find a better excuse.

My father dismounted and ran his hand down his stallion’s muzzle, pretending to consider Ala-Qush’s words. “I’m willing to overlook such a mistake, but Alaqai Beki is the key to our alliance.”

I interrupted then, my mouth suddenly dry. “As such, tomorrow I’ll become Beki of the Onggud, and your only wife. Or . . .”

I shrugged, letting him imagine my father’s hordes pouring over the city walls.

“I see,” Ala-Qush said, motioning to the men behind my father, all armed with spears and shields. “And I assume your men expect as much?”

My father stroked his mustache. “Naturally.”

Ala-Qush straightened, and for a moment I wondered whether he could feel the daggers of his wife’s eyes against his spine. “Then the woman who has served me these past years has done her duty.” He clasped his thick belt with its ivory deer buckle, a meaningless gesture to those far away, but this close I could see the tension in his hands as he gripped the leather. “I shall take Alaqai Beki, daughter of Genghis Khan, as my one and only wife.”

I knew not whether Ala-Qush was a man for revenge, but I had no doubt Orbei would find a thousand little ways to seek her vengeance for this. Yet without her husband’s power behind her, her jabs would be toothless.

I should have felt flush with this first victory, but instead I felt only emptiness. I had won this battle, but the war had only just begun. I still needed to convince these people that I was able to rule them, and I knew one thing for certain as I looked at the hostile faces of Ala-Qush’s wife and the Onggud around me.

The battle lines had been drawn.

I
spent the day after meeting Ala-Qush erecting my
ger
. Tradition demanded that my husband’s family assist me, but I wasn’t foolish enough to expect Orbei to offer her help. Mine was the only tent in this city of walls, setting me further apart as something different and foreign, yet I couldn’t find it in myself to pack away my mother’s felts and allow wooden walls to entrap me more than I already was. The felt panels of a
ger
represented the Eternal Blue Sky, its smoke hole the Golden Light of the Sun, and the floor the Earth Mother; without them I would be truly lost.

That night brought angry shouts from the Great House, eventually replaced with the grunts and moans of a rutting couple after most of the village had drifted to sleep and the stars glittered overhead. I punched my pillow until camel hair bulged from the seams and tried in vain to stuff my ears to shut out the sounds of Ala-Qush with Orbei. I contemplated marching over and demanding they stop, but the thought of Ala-Qush’s wrath or, worse, their laughter kept me in my narrow bed.

That bleak night was the first time in my life that I’d slept alone, without even the snores of my father’s men to carry me to sleep.

Night was painful, but the coming day was far worse.

Enebish came to attend me on the morning of my wedding, but her scowl was too much like Orbei’s for my liking and I sent her away. Of all
my clan, only Shigi would remain with me when my father left, but I could scarcely ask him to dress me in the silken trousers of my wedding finery or button my
deel
over my breasts. Instead I managed on my own, gingerly slipping into Ala-Qush’s gift of a long yellow robe made of camlet and tying it with a red sash. This was the reason for all the camels we’d seen: the Onggud specialized in the production of silk woven with the finest camel hair, a material softer than the downy feathers at the bottom of a swan’s nest. Orbei’s robe from the previous day was made from camlet, and I’d later learn that her ancient family controlled the trade of the precious commodity and, thus, most of the economy of Olon Süme.

I wondered then if I’d done the right thing in insisting that my husband set aside his wife. Yet the deed was done.

I emerged from my
ger
to find my father waiting for me outside. The Khan of Khans wore a brown felt
deel
, and the curved sword in his belt matched the silver hairs threaded through the black of his braid. Even without his fur-lined helmet and the ragged bearskin draped over his shoulders, it would have been impossible to mistake him for anyone other than the leader of the Thirteen Nations. My father wore the bearskin only when dealing with potential enemies, relishing the image of the savage they all believed him to be and therefore making them more likely to capitulate to his demands. Yet this was a wedding between allies; I didn’t know why he wished to intimidate the Onggud today.

It was only after he lifted his arms to embrace me that I noticed the smear of fresh blood on my threshold. It was bad luck to step on the exact border of a
ger
and infinitely worse to spill blood there. My father’s eyes flicked to where Shigi shuffled off with something hidden in his arms.

“What is that?” I called to him.

“Don’t, Alaqai,” my father warned.

“I wish to know what was left on my doorstep,” I said, storming in all my wedding finery to where Shigi stood, his back to me. I opened the brown felt blanket wrapped around the bloody gift, revealing a dead marmot.

I drew back, swallowing back bile at the stench and the flies feeding on the creature’s eyes. “It was generous of Ala-Qush’s wife to leave me such a
gift on my wedding day,” I said, covering my nose and waving the thing away. “Wasn’t it, Father?”

My father drew my arm through his, his voice low. “The best revenge is success, Alaqai. I could kill Orbei for this or you could punish her, but it would be better still to conquer her people.”

“As you did with Jamuka?”

He smiled. “Perhaps with less bloodshed. After all, the people of Ala-Qush’s wife will be our people after today. And you must always serve our people faithfully.”

I wondered which people my father meant: his or the Onggud. Perhaps both.

We passed priceless cauldrons stewing freshly slaughtered horses on our way to the Great House; both the iron pots and the meat were wedding gifts from my father. Most of the town had turned out to examine me, but there were no cheers or shouts of joy, only the sound of boiling water and the smell of horsemeat.

My father squeezed my hand and we entered the Great House together. I touched the emblem of Toregene’s god at my throat, needing protection from all the gods and spirits to keep my stomach from rebelling as I faced the man who was about to become my husband.

Ala-Qush sat on the center of a wooden platform, flanked by various advisers and nobles. Orbei was conspicuously missing, prompting me to thank the Eternal Blue Sky for small miracles. Again I noticed the absence of my husband’s eldest son, Jingue, and filed away the insult. There would be plenty of time later to sniff out the recalcitrant boy.

At home, my appearance as a bride might have prompted shouts and taunts about the upcoming evening in the bridal tent, but this ceremony was as silent as the winter sky. Ala-Qush scarcely looked at me when my father handed me to him, but I stood tall and arranged the folds of my
deel
while my gaze skimmed the heads of my father’s entourage. I was thankful for Shigi’s calming presence in the crowd; he stood serenely in his blue cap while others of my father’s men jostled Ala-Qush’s chosen representatives. If things didn’t go well, my wedding might be celebrated with fights instead of songs and toasts.

My father began his speech, but I heard little of it until the end. “Now I give my daughter, Alaqai Beki, to Ala-Qush of the Onggud,” he said, joining our hands together, “so they become two shafts of the same cart.”

He presented Ala-Qush with the ceremonial arrow, smaller than a real quarrel, with a silver tip carved with a snarling wolf. I wondered if my new husband recognized the wolf as my father’s totem, meant to convey my father’s continuing protection over me. If Ala-Qush noted the symbolism, he hid it well. Instead, my husband removed my Mongol
headdress and replaced it with the towering Onggud crown with its strange gold horn, likely removed from the bedside of his leather-faced wife only that morning. The beaver ruff’s scent of mildew made my nose itch, and the strings of carnelian beads obscured my vision.

I was now Beki of the Onggud. A
beki
would never break, no matter how life strove to break her. Only one thought echoed in my mind as Ala-Qush wrapped an arm around my waist, claiming me as his own.

I
would not break.

*   *   *

My resolution was sorely tested that night, but not in the way I expected.

There were no wild celebrations for my wedding, no merry dancing around campfires or impromptu wrestling contests in honor of the groom’s virility. A late autumn wedding at home had meant that the colts were weaned and every guest could drink their weight in
airag
. Olon Süme offered only neatly stacked wooden casks of Onggud wine, served warm and meant to be sipped from tiny porcelain cups.

I watched my father and his entourage ride away on their open path to the Tanghut outpost of Wulahai, their cloud of dust finally disappearing over the horizon into the night, leaving me with only Shigi and a new title: the Princess Who Runs the State. I’d heard many soldiers comment on their eagerness to leave Olon Süme’s walls and filth behind, and I wished I could join them. Instead, I retreated to my
ger
, where Enebish waited to ready me for my husband’s attentions. I suffered her presence out of necessity, sure that Orbei had instructed her to spy on me. The weight of loneliness settled upon my chest then, and I found myself yearning for Sorkhokhtani’s music or even my mother’s lectures to distract me. I attempted a few notes on the
buree
, but my scowling daughter-by-marriage yanked off my headdress and the camlet robe and tugged the coils from my hair until they tumbled down my back like a black waterfall. I endured the pain with a tight smile when she pulled the tortoiseshell comb harder than was necessary.

I heard my husband coming before he entered, accompanied by a distorted voice and followed by a rude guffaw of laughter. Enebish bowed her head to him when he entered. “Rest well, revered father,” she said, and he ruffled her hair with tenderness. The door closed and he turned to face me, although he didn’t look pleased about it.

Toregene’s advice about all the tricks and secret ways to pleasure a man crowded my mind and made me flush. I longed to put this night behind me and greet a new day.

“Good evening, husband,” I said. I stepped close and ran a finger up his chest, my palm cupping his cheek.

He grabbed my wrist, so hard I winced. “I’m hardly your husband,” he growled, shoving my hand away. He filled two fists with the camlet at my collar and ripped the robe open so it fell to the ground at my feet, exposing my nakedness. My cheeks flared and I shuddered with shame and revulsion, but his next words flared my fury. “I find myself saddled with a mare I never sought and now find abhorrent. I shall never call you wife.”

I yanked my robe back up, ignoring the scarcely restrained outrage in his voice and not troubling myself over his rearranging the facts over who had sought whom. “If you think I’ll let you speak to me like this—”

“I’ll speak to you as I please,” Ala-Qush said. “After all, I’ve bought and paid for you, haven’t I?”

“I am your
beki
, not your slave,” I said, hugging the camlet robe closed over my breasts. “No one speaks to the daughter of Genghis Khan in such a manner.”

I knew they were the wrong words the moment they left my mouth.

“Your father’s no longer here to protect you.” Ala-Qush grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back. “Some of my nobles encouraged me to support your upstart father, yet still others desired an alliance with the ancient Tanghuts. I cast my lot with you, yet you and your father humiliated me before my people and made a spectacle of the wife who has
served me for longer than you’ve lived. Everything about you heathens offends me, from your stench of sour milk and the filthy skins you wear to the way you cook your horses, eyeballs, assholes, and all.” He stepped back and spat at my feet. “And above everything, you offend me most of all.”

I tasted the copper tang of blood as I bit my tongue. I wished I had my father’s power then, that I could make Ala-Qush cower before me. Instead I gave my husband the insult of my back, unwilling to let him witness the riot of emotions on my face.

“I won’t listen to this,” I said. “Nor shall I share your bed until you’ve apologized.”

His cruel bark of laughter made me cringe. “No, Alaqai Beki, daughter of Genghis Khan, it is you who shall never share
my
bed. Not this night or any other.”

I sputtered, then whirled around in time to see the door slam shut so hard the frame of my
ger
shuddered. A gust of cold air hit me in the face, almost guttering the fire.

My mind struggled to make sense of what had just happened; then I hurled the Onggud headdress into the opposite wall, followed by the silver bowls of wine left out for after the bridal bedding. I could imagine my mother shaking her head at me, the disappointment writ clear in her eyes. I gave a cry and flung myself on the bed, staring at the stars through the smoke hole and wishing I could burn all of Olon Süme to the ground.

It wasn’t long before I heard the same grunts and moans from the night before, Ala-Qush and Orbei mocking me in my empty
ger
.

Only this time they were louder, so the whole town could hear them and know my shame.

*   *   *

In the days and weeks that followed, I recalled words my father once said when recounting the hardships he faced after his father’s death at the hands of the Tatars.

“Life is like an arrow,” he had stated, his features made sharper by the flickering fire. “Both must be pulled back before they can be launched forward. Remember that when you feel as if nothing shall ever be right again.”

I understood what he meant now. My husband and I scarcely shared the same air, and if I happened upon him, he’d growl like a bear and order me away. More than once I heard the deep bellows of his men’s laughter when he made some comment at my expense. After several days of this constant humiliation and nights listening to him with Orbei, I waited for him outside the Great House. He attempted to ignore me, but I used my tiger sword to bar his exit, earning a scathing glare that would have made even my mother quake with fear.

“Return to your tent, Alaqai Beki,” he said. “My head pounds like the inside of a drum and I won’t make it worse by listening to another of your tirades.”

“This arrangement is unacceptable,” I said, ignoring the men behind him.

His smile was icy. “I find it preferable to the alternative of locking you in a wooden cangue for the rest of your days. I believe your father withstood such a punishment once.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“No?” He threw open his arms. “And who would stop me?”

It was a challenge, then, a test as to whether I’d invoke my father’s name again. But even if my father weren’t off campaigning, we both knew I wouldn’t admit to being unable to manage my responsibilities as wife and
be
ki
.

“That’s what I thought.” Ala-Qush leaned in and I noticed his pupils were strangely dilated. “Now, run along and play with your bow and arrow, wife. I have a kingdom to rule.”

My husband’s advisers laughed and cast me withering looks, drawing the hems of their pristine robes close as they passed me. I forced myself to stand and watch them go, leaving me alone on the threshold of the Great House.

Something had to change. My husband despised me and refused to visit my bed, and his people loathed me.

There had to be another way to conquer the Onggud.

*   *   *