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Hoelun hissed like a pot on the stove. ‘He is a boy about to be betrothed. He is young and too proud, just as his stubborn father is. He is so much like you that you cannot even see it.’
Yesugei ignored this, and Temujin did not know what to say as his mother looked back at him.
‘He listens, though he pretends not to, Temujin,’ she murmured. ‘He is like you in that.’ She reached up to take his cheek in her strong fingers. ‘Do not be wary of the families of my people. They are good-hearted, though you must keep your eyes down around the young men. They will test you, but you must not be afraid.’
Temujin’s yellow eyes flashed.
‘I am not afraid,’ he said. She waited and his defiant expression altered subtly. ‘All right, I am listening as well,’ he said.
She nodded and from a pocket brought a bag of sweet milk curds, pressing it into his hand.
‘There is a bottle of black airag in the saddlebag against the cold. These are for the journey. Grow strong and be kind to whichever girl is chosen for you.’
‘Kind?’ Temujin replied. For the first time since his father had told him he was going, he felt a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. Somewhere there was a stranger who would be his wife and bear his children. He could not imagine what she might look like, or even what he wanted in such a woman.
‘I hope she is like you,’ he said thoughtfully.
Hoelun beamed and hugged him with a brief clasp that set his little sister crying indignantly. ‘You are a good boy, Temujin. You will make her a fine husband,’ she said.
To his astonishment, he saw tears gleaming in her eyes. She rubbed at them even as he felt an answering pang. His defences were crumbling and she saw his fear that he would be humiliated in front of Yesugei and Eeluk. Men on their way to be betrothed did not bawl with their mothers.
Hoelun gripped her son briefly around the neck, then turned away, exchanging a last few murmured words with her husband. The khan of the Wolves sighed visibly, nodding in reply as he mounted. Temujin leapt nimbly into his own saddle.
‘Temujin!’ he heard.
He smiled as he turned his white-footed pony with a gentle pressure on the reins. His sleepy brothers had roused themselves at last and come out to see him off. Temuge and Khasar clustered around his stirrups, adoration in their faces. Kachiun winced against the light as he took a moment to inspect a fraying front hoof. They were a noisy, lively group and Temujin felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease.
Bekter came out of the ger, his flat face impassive. Temujin regarded him, seeing a sparkle of triumph in the empty gaze. Bekter too had thought how much easier his life would be without Temujin there. It was hard not to worry for the younger ones, but Temujin would not shame them by voicing his concern. The bones had been thrown and the future laid out for all of them. A strong man could bend the sky to suit him, but only for himself, Temujin knew. They were on their own.
He raised a hand in final farewell to his mother and urged Whitefoot into a snorting trot at his father’s side. He did not think he could bear to look back, so he did not. The sounds of the waking tribe and the whinnying calls of horses faded quickly, and after a short time there was just the thud of hooves and jingling harness, and their people were left behind.
* * *
Yesugei rode in silence as the sun rose ahead of them. Hoelun’s people were closer than they had been in three years and it would be a journey of only a few days alone with his son. By the end of it, he would know whether the boy had it in him to rule the tribe. He had known with Bekter, after only the first day. His oldest boy was no wild flame, it was true, but the tribe needed a steady hand and Bekter was growing into a fine man.
Yesugei frowned to himself as he rode. Some part of his mind scanned the land around them for a sight of an enemy or an animal. He could never become lost while every hill was sharp in his mind, and every clipped goat ear showed him the local tribes, like a pattern stretching over the land.
He had enjoyed the ride with Bekter, though he had taken pains not to show it. It was hard to know how a boy became a leader of men, but Yesugei was certain it was not through being spoiled or kept soft. He raised his eyes to the sky father at the thought of fat Temuge back in the gers. If the little boy had not had so many strong brothers, Yesugei would have taken him away from his mother’s influence, perhaps to be fostered with another tribe. Perhaps he still would, on his return.
Yesugei shifted in the saddle, unable to maintain his usual drifting thoughts while Temujin rode at his side. The boy was too obviously aware of his surroundings, his head jerking at every new sight. Bekter had been a peaceful companion, but something about Temujin’s silence chafed on his father.
It did not help that the route to the Olkhun’ut took them near the red hill, so that Yesugei was forced to consider his son’s part in fetching the eagle chicks. He felt Temujin’s eyes on him as he looked at the sharp slopes, but the stubborn boy would not give him an opening.
Yesugei grunted in exasperation, unsure why his temper was growling on such a fine, blue day.
‘You were lucky to reach the nest at that height,’ he said.
‘It was not luck,’ Temujin replied.
Yesugei cursed inwardly. The boy was as prickly as a thorn bush.
‘You were lucky not to fall, boy, even with Kachiun helping you.’
Temujin narrowed his eyes. His father had seemed too drunk to be listening to Chagatai’s songs. Had he spoken to Kachiun? Temujin was not sure how to react, so he said nothing.
Yesugei watched him closely, and after a time, he shook his head and thought of Hoelun. He would try again, for her sake, or he might never hear the end of it.
‘It was a fine climb, I heard. Kachiun said you were nearly torn off the rock by the eagle coming back to the nest.’
Temujin softened slightly, shrugging. He was absurdly pleased that his father had shown an interest, though his cold face hid it all.
‘He forced it down with a stone,’ he replied, giving measured praise with care. Kachiun was his favourite brother by far, but he had learned the good sense of hiding likes and dislikes from others, almost an instinct by the end of his twelfth year.
Yesugei had fallen silent again, but Temujin searched his thoughts for something to break the silence before it could settle and grow firm.
‘Did your father take you to the Olkhun’ut?’ he said.
Yesugei snorted, eyeing his son.
‘I suppose you are old enough now to hear. No, I found your mother with two of her brothers when I was out riding. I saw that she was beautiful and strong.’ He sighed, and smacked his lips, his eyes gazing into the past.
‘She rode the sweetest little mare, the colour of storm water at dawn. Her legs were bare and very brown.’
Temujin had not heard the story before and rode a little closer.
‘You raided her from the Olkhun’ut?’ he said. It should not have surprised him, he knew. His father enjoyed hunting and raiding and his eyes shone when he recalled his battles. If the season was warm and food was plentiful, he sent defeated warriors back to their families on foot, with red welts on their skin from the flats of swords. In the winter, when food was scarce, it was death to be caught. Life was too hard for kindness in the dark months.
‘I chased her brothers away like a couple of young goats,’ Yesugei said. ‘I was hardly old enough to be out on my own, but I waved my sword above my head and I yelled at them.’
Caught up in the memory, he put his head back and gave out a ululating whoop, ending in laughter.
‘You should have seen their faces. One of them tried to attack me, but I was the son of a khan, Temujin, not some little dog to be cowed and sent running. I put an arrow through his hip and ran him off.’
He sighed to himself.
‘Those were very good days. I thought I would never feel the cold in my bones, back then. I had an idea that I would be given nothing in my life, that everything I had would be taken by my wits and my strength.’ He looked at his son, and his expression contained a regret Temujin could only guess at. ‘There was a time, boy, when I would have climbed for the red bird myself.’
‘If I had known, I would have come back and told you,’ Temujin began, trying to understand this great bear of a man.
Yesugei shook his head, chuckling. ‘Not now! I am too heavy to be dancing around on tiny ledges and cracks. If I tried it now I think I would crash to earth like a falling star. What is the point in having sons if they cannot grow strong and test their courage? That is one truth I remember from my father, when he was sober. Courage cannot be left like bones in a bag. It must be brought out and shown the light again and again, growing stronger each time. If you think it will keep for the times you need it, you are wrong. It is like any other part of your strength. If you ignore it, the bag will be empty when you need it most. No, you were right to climb for the nest and I was right to give the red bird to Eeluk.’
There was no hiding the sudden stiffness that came into Temujin’s bearing. Yesugei made a purring sound in frustration, deep in his throat like a growl.
‘He is my first warrior, and deadly, boy, you should believe it. I would rather have Eeluk at my side than any five of the tribe – any ten of the Olkhun’ut. His children will not rule the families. His sword will never be as good as mine, do you understand? No, you are only twelve. What can you understand of what I say to you?’
‘You had to give him something,’ Temujin snapped. ‘Is that what you mean?’
‘No. It was not a debt. I honoured him with the red bird because he is my first warrior. Because he has been my friend since we were boys together and he has never complained that his family were beneath mine amongst the Wolves.’
Temujin opened his mouth to snap a reply. The red bird would be soiled by Eeluk’s dirty hands, with their thick yellow skin. The bird was too fine for the ugly bondsman. He did not speak, and instead he practised the discipline that gave him the cold face and showed the world nothing. It was his only real defence against his father’s searching gaze.
Yesugei saw through it, and snorted.
‘Boy, I was showing the cold face when you were the sky father’s dream,’ he said.
As they made camp that night by a winding stream, Temujin set about the chores that would help sustain them the following day. With the hilt of his knife, he broke chunks of hard cheese from a heavy block, passing the pieces into leather bags half filled with water. The wet mixture would sit under their saddles, churned and heated by the ponies’ skin. By noon, he and his father would have a warm drink of soft curds, bitter and refreshing.
Once that task was done, Temujin set about finding sheep droppings, pulling them apart in his fingers to see if they were dry enough to burn cleanly and well. He collected a pile of the best ones and drew a stick of flint across an old knife to light strands of them, building the sparks into a tongue of flame and then a fire. Yesugei cut pieces of dried mutton and some wild onions with sheep fat, the delicious smell making their mouths water. Hoelun had given them bread that would soon be hard, so they broke the flat loaves and soaked them in the stew.
They sat across from each other to eat, sucking the meat juices from their fingers between mouthfuls. Temujin saw his father’s gaze fall on the pack that contained the black airag and fetched it for him. He watched patiently as the khan took a deep swig.
‘Tell me about the Olkhun’ut,’ Temujin said.
His father’s mouth curled in an unconscious sneer.
‘They are not strong, though there are many of them, like ants. I sometimes think I could ride in there and kill all day before they brought me down.’
‘They don’t have warriors?’ Temujin said incredulously. His father was not above making up some outlandish story, but he seemed serious.
‘Not like Eeluk. You’ll see. They use the bow rather than the sword and they stand far off from their enemy, never coming close unless they have to. Shields would make a mockery of them, though they would kill the ponies easily enough. They are like wasps stinging, but if you ride in amongst them, they scatter like children. That is how I took your mother. I crept up, then I leapt on them.’
‘How will I learn to use a sword, then?’ Temujin demanded.
He had forgotten his father’s reaction to that tone and barely avoided the hand that came to smack a little humility into him. Yesugei went on as if nothing had happened.
‘You will have to practise on your own, boy. Bekter had to, I know that. He said they didn’t let him touch a bow or one of their knives from the first day to the day he left. Cowards, all of them. Still, their women are very fine.’
‘Why do they treat with you, with daughters for your sons?’ Temujin asked, wary of another blow. Yesugei was already arranging his deel for sleep, lying back on the sheep nibbled grass.
‘No father wants unwed daughters cluttering the ger. What would they do with them, if I did not come with a son every now and then? It is not so uncommon, especially when the tribes meet. They can strengthen their blood with the seed of other tribes.’
‘Does it strengthen us?’ Temujin asked.
His father snorted without opening his eyes.
‘The Wolves are already strong.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#u15ab7801-f82a-532f-8adb-eb524d7e5f35)
Yesugei’s sharp eyes spotted the Olkhun’ut scouts at exactly the moment they saw him. The deep notes of their horns carried back to the tribes, rousing the warriors to defend their herds and women.
‘You will not speak unless they speak to you,’ Yesugei warned his son. ‘Show them the cold face, no matter what happens. Understand?’
Temujin did not respond, though he swallowed nervously. The days and nights with his father had been a strange time for him. In all his life, he could not remember having Yesugei’s attention for so long, without his brothers crashing across the khan’s field of vision and distracting him. At first, Temujin had thought it would be a misery to be stuck together for the journey. They were not friends, and could not be, but there were moments when he caught a glint of something in his father’s eyes. In anyone else, it might have been pride.
In the far distance, Temujin saw dust rise from the dry ground as young warriors leapt onto their ponies, calling for weapons. Yesugei’s mouth became a thin, hard line and he sat tall in his saddle, his back straight and unbending. Temujin copied him as best he could, watching the dust cloud grow as dozens of warriors came swarming out towards the lonely pair.
‘Do not turn, Temujin,’ Yesugei snapped. ‘They are boys playing games, and you will shame me if you give honour to them.’
‘I understand,’ Temujin replied. ‘But if you sit like a stone, they will know you are aware of them. Would it not be better to talk to me, to laugh?’
He felt Yesugei’s glare and knew a moment of fear. Those golden eyes had been the last sight of more than a few young tribesmen. Yesugei was preparing himself for enemies, his instincts taking over his muscles and reactions. As Temujin turned to return the stare, he saw his father summon an effort of will and visibly relax himself. The galloping Olkhun’ut did not seem so close and the day had grown a little brighter somehow.
‘I will look a fool if they sweep us off the ponies in pieces,’ Yesugei said, forcing a stiff grin that would not have been out of place on a corpse.
Temujin laughed at his effort in genuine amusement. ‘Are you in pain? Try throwing your head back as you do it.’
His father did as Temujin suggested and his effort reduced them both to helpless laughter by the time the Olkhun’ut riders arrived. Yesugei was red-faced and wiping tears from his eyes as the yelling warriors skidded to a halt, allowing their mounts to block the pair of strangers. The drifting cloud of dust arrived with them, passing through the group on the wind and making them all narrow their eyes.
The milling group of warriors fell silent as Temujin and Yesugei mastered themselves and appeared to notice the Olkhun’ut for the first time. Temujin kept his face as blank as possible, though he could barely hide his curiosity. Everything was subtly different from what he was used to. The bloodlines of their horses were superb and the warriors themselves wore light deels of grey with gold thread markings over trousers of dark brown. They were somehow cleaner and neater-looking than his own people and Temujin felt a vague resentment start in him. His gaze fell on one who must surely have been the leader. The other riders deferred to him as he approached, looking to him for orders.
The young warrior rode as well as Kachiun, Temujin saw, but he was almost a man grown, with only the lightest of tunics and bare brown arms. He had two bows strapped to his saddle, with a good throwing axe. Temujin could see no swords on any of the others, but they too carried the small axes and he wondered how they would be used against armed men. He suspected that a good sword would reduce their hatchets to kindling in just a stroke or two – unless they threw them.
His examination of the Olkhun’ut was being returned. One of the men nudged his pony close to Yesugei. A grimy hand stretched out to finger the cloth of his deel.
Temujin barely saw his father move, but the man’s palm was striped with red before he could lay a finger on Yesugei’s belongings. The Olkhun’ut rider yelped and pulled back, his pain turning to anger in an instant.
‘You take a great risk riding here without your bondsmen, khan of the Wolves,’ the young man in a tunic said suddenly. ‘Have you brought us another of your sons for the Olkhun’ut to teach him his manhood?’
Yesugei turned to Temujin and again there was that odd light in his eye.
‘This is my son, Temujin. Temujin, this is your cousin Koke. His father is the man I shot in the hip on the day I met your mother.’
‘And he still limps,’ Koke agreed, without smiling.
His pony seemed to move without a signal and he came in range to clap Yesugei on the shoulder. The older man allowed the action, though there was something about his stillness that suggested he may not have. The other warriors relaxed as Koke moved away. He had shown he was not afraid of the khan, and Yesugei had accepted that he did not rule where the Olkhun’ut pitched their gers.
‘You must be hungry. The hunters brought in fat spring marmots this morning – will you eat with us?’
‘We will,’ Yesugei answered for both of them.
From that moment they were protected by guest rights and Yesugei lost the stiffness that suggested he’d rather be holding a sword. His dagger had vanished back into his fur-lined robe. In comparison, Temujin’s stomach felt as if it had dropped out. He had not fully appreciated how lonely he would feel surrounded by strangers, and even before they reached the outer tents of the Olkhun’ut, he was watching his father closely, dreading the moment when he would ride away and leave his son behind.
* * *
The gers of the Olkhun’ut were a different shade of white-grey from those Temujin knew. The horses were held in great corrals outside the gathering of tents, too many for him to count. With cattle, goats and sheep busy munching grass on every nearby hill, he could see the Olkhun’ut were prosperous and, as Yesugei had said, strong in numbers. Temujin saw little boys the age of his brothers racing along the outskirts of the camp. Each held a small bow and seemed to be firing directly into the ground, yelling and cursing alternately. It was all strange, and he wished Kachiun and Khasar were there with him.
His cousin Koke jumped down from his pony, giving the reins to a tiny woman with a face as wrinkled as a leaf. Temujin and Yesugei dismounted at the same time, and their ponies were taken away to be watered and fed. The other riders scattered through the camp, returning to their own gers or gathering in groups to talk. Strangers in the tribe were not common and Temujin could feel hundreds of eyes on him as Koke led the two Wolves through the midst of his people, striding ahead.
Yesugei grunted in displeasure at being forced to walk behind the young man. The khan walked even slower in response, pausing to inspect the decorative knotwork on the ger of a lesser family. With a frown on his face, Koke was forced to wait for his guests, or arrive at his destination without them. Temujin might have applauded the subtle way his father had turned the little game of status to his advantage. Instead of hurrying along after the younger man, they had made the trip a tour of the Olkhun’ut gers. Yesugei even spoke to one or two of the people, but never with a question they might not have answered, only with a compliment or a simple remark. The Olkhun’ut stared after the pair of Wolves and Temujin sensed his father was enjoying the tensions as much as a battle.
By the time they stopped outside a ger with a bright blue door, Koke was irritated with them both, though he could not exactly have said why.
‘Is your father well?’ Yesugei said.
The young warrior was forced to pause as he ducked into the ger. ‘He is as strong as ever,’ Koke replied.
Yesugei nodded. ‘Tell him I am here,’ he said, looking blandly at his nephew by marriage.
