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Koke coloured slightly before disappearing into the darkness within. Though there were eyes and ears all around them, Temujin and Yesugei had been left alone.
‘Observe the courtesies when we go in,’ Yesugei murmured. ‘These are not the families you know. They will notice every fault and rejoice in it.’
‘I understand,’ Temujin replied, barely moving his lips. ‘How old is my cousin Koke?’
‘Thirteen or fourteen,’ Yesugei replied.
Temujin looked up with interest. ‘So he is alive only because you shot his father in the hip and not the heart?’
Yesugei shrugged. ‘I did not shoot for the hip. I shot to kill, but I had only an instant to loose the shaft before your mother’s other brother threw an axe at me.’
‘Is he here as well?’ Temujin asked, looking round.
Yesugei chuckled. ‘Not unless he managed to put his head back on.’
Temujin fell silent as he considered this. The Olkhun’ut had no reason to love his father and many to hate him, yet he sent his sons to them for wives. The certainties he had known among his own people were vanishing and he felt lost and fearful. Temujin drew on his determination with an effort, composing his features into the cold face. Bekter had withstood his year with the tribe, after all. They would not kill him and anything else was bearable, he was almost certain.
‘Why has he not come out?’ he murmured to his father.
Yesugei grunted, breaking off from staring at some young Olkhun’ut women milking goats.
‘He makes us wait because he thinks I will be insulted. He made me wait when I came with Bekter two years ago. No doubt he will make me wait when I come with Khasar. The man is an idiot, but all dogs bark at a wolf.’
‘Why do you visit him first, then?’ Temujin said, dropping his voice even lower.
‘The blood tie brings me safe amongst them. It galls them to welcome me, but they give your mother honour by doing it. I play my part, and my sons have wives.’
‘Will you see their khan?’ Temujin asked.
Yesugei shook his head. ‘If Sansar sees me, he will be forced to offer his tents and women for as long as I am here. He will have gone hunting, as I would if he came to the Wolves.’
‘You like him,’ Temujin said, watching his father’s face closely.
‘The man has honour enough not to pretend he is a friend when he is not. I respect him. If I ever decide to take his herds, I will let him keep a few sheep and a woman or two, perhaps even a bow and a good cloak against the cold.’
Yesugei smiled at the thought, gazing back at the girls tending their bleating flock. Temujin wondered if they knew the wolf was already amongst them.
The inside of the ger was gloomy and thick with the smell of mutton and sweat. As Temujin ducked low to pass under the lintel, it occurred to him for the first time just how vulnerable a man was as he went into another family’s home. Perhaps the small doors had another function apart from keeping out the winter.
The ger had carved wooden beds and chairs around the edges, with a small stove in the middle. Temujin felt vaguely disappointed at the ordinary look of the interior, though his sharp eyes noticed a beautiful bow on the far wall, double curved and layered in horn and sinew. He wondered if he would have the chance to practise his archery with the Olkhun’ut. If they forbade him weapons for the full turn of seasons, he might well lose the skills he had worked so hard to gain.
Koke stood with his head respectfully bowed, but another man rose as Yesugei came to greet him, standing a head shorter than the khan of the Wolves.
‘I have brought another son to you, Enq,’ Yesugei said formally. ‘The Olkhun’ut are friends to the Wolves and do us great honour with strong wives.’
Temujin watched his uncle in fascination. His mother’s brother. It was strange to think of her growing up around this very ger, riding a sheep, perhaps, as the babies sometimes did.
Enq was a thin spear of a man, his flesh tight on his bones, so that the lines of his shaven skull could be easily seen. Even in the dark ger, his skin shone with grease, with just one thick lock of grey hair hanging from his scalp between his eyes. The glance he gave Temujin was not welcoming, though he gripped Yesugei’s hand in greeting and his wife prepared salted tea to refresh them.
‘Is my sister well?’ Enq said as the silence swelled around them.
‘She has given me a daughter,’ Yesugei replied. ‘Perhaps you will send an Olkhun’ut son to me one day.’
Enq nodded, though the idea did not seem to please him.
‘Has the girl you found for my elder son come into her blood?’ Yesugei asked.
Enq grimaced over his tea. ‘Her mother says that she hasn’t,’ he replied. ‘She will come when she is ready.’ He seemed about to speak again and then shut his mouth tight, so that the wrinkles around his lips deepened.
Temujin perched himself on the edge of a bed, taking note of the fine quality of the blankets. Remembering what his father had said, he took the bowl of tea he was offered in his right hand, his left cupping his right elbow in the traditional style. No one could have faulted his manners in front of the Olkhun’ut.
They settled themselves and drank the liquid in silence. Temujin began to relax.
‘Why has your son not greeted me?’ Enq asked Yesugei slyly.
Temujin stiffened as his father frowned. He put aside the bowl and rose once more. Enq stood with him and Temujin was pleased to find he was the man’s equal in height.
‘I am honoured to meet you, uncle,’ he said. ‘I am Temujin, second son to the khan of Wolves. My mother sends you her greetings. Are you well?’
‘I am, boy,’ Enq replied. ‘Though I see you have yet to learn the courtesies of our people.’
Yesugei cleared his throat softly and Enq closed his mouth over whatever he had been going to add. Temujin did not miss the flash of irritation in the older man’s eyes. He had been plunged into an adult world of subtlety and games and once more he began to dread the moment when his father would leave him behind.
‘How is your hip?’ Yesugei murmured.
Enq’s thin mouth tightened as he forced a smile. ‘I never think of it,’ he replied.
Temujin noticed that he moved stiffly as he took his seat once more and felt a private pleasure. He did not have to like these strange people. He understood that this too was a test, like everything else Yesugei set his sons. He would endure.
‘Is there a wife for him, in the gers?’ Yesugei asked.
Enq grimaced, draining the dregs of his tea bowl and holding it out to be refilled.
‘There is one family who have not been able to find a match for their daughter. They will be pleased to have her eating someone else’s meat and milk.’
Yesugei nodded. ‘I will see her before I leave you. She must be strong and able to bear children for the Wolves. Who knows, one day she could be mother to the tribe.’
Enq nodded, sipping at the salty liquid as if in deep concentration. Temujin wanted nothing more than to be away from the man’s sour smell and his gloomy ger, but he forced himself to remain still and listen to every word. His future hung on the moment, after all.
‘I will bring her to you,’ Enq said, but Yesugei shook his head.
‘Good blood comes from a good line, Enq. I will see her parents before I leave.’
Reluctantly, Enq nodded. ‘Very well. I had to take a piss, anyway.’
Temujin rose, standing back as his uncle ducked through the door. He could hear the noisy spatter of liquid begin almost immediately. Yesugei chuckled deep in his throat, but it was not a friendly sound. In silent communication, he reached out and gripped Temujin around the back of the neck, then both of them stepped out into the bright sunshine.
The Olkhun’ut seemed to be burdened with an insatiable curiosity about their visitors. As Temujin’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw many dozens of them had gathered around Enq’s ger, though Yesugei hardly spared them a glance. Enq strode through the crowd, sending two yellow dogs skittering out of his way with a kick. Yesugei strolled after him, meeting his son’s eyes for a moment. Temujin returned the gaze coolly until Yesugei nodded, reassured in some way.
Enq’s stiffness was far more visible as they walked behind him, every step revealing his old injury. Sensing their scrutiny, his face became flushed as he led them through the clustered gers and out to the edges of the encampment. The chattering Olkhun’ut followed them, unashamed in their interest.
A thunder of hooves sounded behind their small party and Temujin was tempted to look back. He saw his father glance and knew that if there was a threat, the khan would have drawn his sword. Though his fingers twitched at the hilt, Yesugei only smiled. Temujin listened to the hoof beats getting closer and closer until the ground trembled under their feet.
At the last possible moment, Yesugei moved with a jerk, reaching up in a blur to snatch a rider. The horse galloped on wildly, bare of reins or saddle. Freed of its burden, it bucked twice and then settled, dropping its head to nibble at dry grass.
Temujin had spun round at his father’s movement, seeing the big man lowering a child to the ground as if the weight was nothing.
It might have been a girl, but it was not easy to be sure. The hair was cut short and the face was almost black with dirt. She struggled in Yesugei’s arms as he put her down, spitting and wailing. He laughed and turned to Enq with raised eyebrows.
‘The Olkhun’ut grow them wild, I see,’ Yesugei said.
Enq’s face was twisted with what may have been amusement. He watched as the grubby little girl ran away screeching. ‘Let us continue to her father,’ he said, flashing a glance at Temujin before he limped away.
Temujin stared after the running figure, wishing he had taken a better look.
‘Is she the one?’ he said aloud. No one answered him.
The horses of the Olkhun’ut were out on the ragged edge of the tribe, whinnying and tossing their heads in the excitement of spring. The last of the gers sat on a piece of dusty ground by the corrals, baked and bare of any ornament. Even the door was unpainted wood, suggesting the owners owned nothing more than their lives and their place in the tribe. Temujin sighed at the thought of spending his year with such a poor family. He had hoped at least to be given a bow for hunting. From the look of the ger, his wife’s family would be hard-pressed even to feed him.
Yesugei’s face was blank, and Temujin tried hard to copy it in front of Enq. He had already resolved not to like the thin uncle who had given them such a reluctant welcome. It was not difficult.
The father of the girl came out to meet them, smiling and bowing. His clothes were black with old grease and dirt, layer upon layer that Temujin suspected would remain on his skin regardless of season. He showed a toothless mouth when he smiled and Temujin watched as he scratched at a dark spot in his hair, flicking some nameless parasite away with his fingers. It was hard not to be revolted after the clean ger his mother had kept all his life. The smell of urine was a sharp tang in the air and Temujin could not even see a latrine pit nearby.
He took the man’s dark hand when it was offered and went inside to drink yet another bowl of the salty tea, moving to the left after his father and Enq. His spirits sank further at the broken wood beds and lack of paint. There was an old bow on the wall, but it was a poor thing and much mended. The old man woke his wife with a hard slap and set her to boiling a kettle on the stove. He was clearly nervous in the presence of strangers and muttered to himself constantly.
Enq could not hide his cheerful mood. He smiled around at the bare felt and wooden lattice, repaired in a hundred places.
‘We are honoured to be in your home, Shria,’ he said to the woman, who bowed her head briefly before pouring the salt tea into shallow bowls for them. Enq’s good humour was growing visibly as he addressed her husband. ‘Bring your daughter, Sholoi. The boy’s father has said he wants to see her.’
The wiry little man showed his toothless gums again and went out, pulling his beltless trousers up at every second step. Temujin heard a high voice yelling and the old man’s curt reply, but he pretended not to, covering his dismay with the bowl of tea and feeling his bladder grow full.
Sholoi brought the grubby girl back in, struggling all the way. Under Yesugei’s gaze, he struck her three times in quick succession, on the face and legs. Tears sprang into her eyes, though she fought them with the same determination as she had fought her father.
‘This is Borte,’ Enq said slyly. ‘She will make your son a good and loyal wife, I am certain.’
‘She looks a little old,’ Yesugei said doubtfully.
The girl writhed away from her father’s grip and went to sit on the other side of the ger, as far from them as she could possibly get.
Enq shrugged. ‘She is fourteen, but there has been no blood. Perhaps because she is thin. There have been other suitors, of course, but they want a placid girl instead of one with fire in her. She will make a fine mother for Wolves.’
The girl in question picked up a shoe and threw it at Enq. Temujin was close enough to snatch it out of the air and she stared malevolently at him.
Yesugei crossed the ger and something about him made her go still. He was large for his own people and larger still for the Olkhun’ut, who tended towards delicacy. He reached out and touched her gently under the chin, lifting her head.
‘My son will need a strong wife,’ he said, looking into her eyes. ‘I think she will be beautiful when she has grown.’
The little girl broke her unnatural stillness and tried to slap at his hand, though he was too fast for her. Yesugei smiled, nodding to himself.
‘I like her. I accept the betrothal.’
Enq hid his displeasure behind a weak smile.
‘I am pleased to have found a good match for your son,’ he said.
Yesugei stood and stretched his back, towering over them all.
‘I will return for him in a year, Enq. Teach him discipline, but remember that one day he will be a man and he may come back to pay his debts to the Olkhun’ut.’
The threat was not lost on Enq and Sholoi, and the former clenched his jaw rather than reply before he had mastered himself.
‘It is a hard life in the gers of the Olkhun’ut. We will give you back a warrior as well as a wife for him.’
‘I do not doubt it,’ Yesugei replied.
He bent almost double to pass out through the small door and, in sudden panic, Temujin realised his father was leaving. It seemed to take for ever for the older men to follow, but he forced himself to sit until only the wizened wife was left and he could leave. By the time he stood blinking against the light, his father’s pony had been brought. Yesugei mounted easily, looking down on them all. His steady gaze found Temujin at last, but he said nothing and, after a moment, he dug in his heels, trotting away.
Temujin stared after his father as he rode, returning to his brothers, his mother, everything he loved. Though he knew he would not, Temujin hoped Yesugei would glance back before he was out of sight. He felt tears threaten and took a deep breath to hold them back, knowing it would please Enq to see weakness.
His uncle watched Yesugei leave and then he closed one nostril with a finger, blowing the contents of the other onto the dusty ground.
‘He is an arrogant fool, that one, like all the Wolves,’ he said.
Temujin turned quickly, surprising him. Enq sneered.
‘And his pups are worse than their father. Well, Sholoi beats his pups as hard as he beats his daughters and his wife. They all know their place, boy. You’ll learn yours while you are here.’
He gestured to Sholoi and the little man took Temujin’s arm in a surprisingly powerful grip. Enq smiled at the boy’s expression.
Temujin held silent, knowing they were trying to frighten him. After a pause, Enq turned and walked away, his expression sour. Temujin saw that his uncle limped much worse when Yesugei was not there to see it. In the midst of his fear and loneliness, that thought gave him a scrap of comfort. If he had been treated with kindness, he may not have had the strength. As things stood, his simmering dislike was like a draught of mare’s blood in his stomach, nourishing him.
Yesugei did not look back as he passed the last riders of the Olkhun’ut. His heart ached at leaving his precious son in the hands of weaklings like Enq and Sholoi, but to have given Temujin even a few words of comfort would have been seen as a triumph for those who looked for such things. When he was riding alone across the plain and the camp was far behind, he permitted himself a rare smile. Temujin had more than a little fierceness in him, perhaps more than any other of his sons. Where Bekter might have retreated into sullenness, he thought Temujin might surprise those who thought they could freely torment a khan’s son. Either way, he would survive the year and the Wolves would be stronger for his experiences and the wife he would bring home. Yesugei remembered the fat herds that roamed around the gers of his wife’s tribe. He had found no true weaknesses in the defences, but if the winter was hard, he could picture a day when he would ride amongst them once more, with warriors at his side. His mood lightened at the thought of seeing Enq run from his bondsmen. There would be no smiles and sly glances from the thin little man then. He dug in his heels to canter across the empty landscape, his imagination filled with pleasant thoughts of fire and screaming.
CHAPTER SIX (#u15ab7801-f82a-532f-8adb-eb524d7e5f35)
Temujin came abruptly from sleep when a pair of hands yanked him off his pallet and onto the wooden floor. The ger was filled with that close darkness that prevented him from even seeing his own limbs, and everything was unfamiliar. He could hear Sholoi muttering as he moved around and assumed it was the old man who had woken him. Temujin felt a surge of fresh dislike for Borte’s father. He scrambled up, stifling a cry of pain as he cracked his shin on some unseen obstacle. It was not yet dawn and the camp of the Olkhun’ut was silent all around. He did not want to start the dogs barking. A little cold water would splash away his sleepiness, he thought, yawning. He reached out to where he remembered seeing a bucket the evening before, but his hands closed on nothing.
‘Awake yet?’ Sholoi said somewhere near.
Temujin turned towards the sound and clenched his fists in the darkness. He had a bruise along the side of his face from where the old man had struck him the evening before. It had brought shameful tears to his eyes, though he’d seen that Enq had spoken the truth about life in that miserable home. Sholoi used his bony hands to enforce every order, whether he was moving a dog out of his path, or starting his daughter or wife to some task. The shrewish-looking wife seemed to have learned a sullen silence, but Borte had felt her father’s fists more than a few times on that first evening, just for being too close in the confined space of the ger. Under the dirt and old cloth, Temujin thought she must have been covered in bruises. It had taken two sharp blows from Sholoi before he too kept his head down. He’d felt her eyes on him then, her gaze scornful, but what else could he have done? Killed the old man? He didn’t think he would live long past Sholoi’s first shout for help, not surrounded by the rest of the tribe. He thought they would take a particular delight in cutting him if he gave them cause. His last waking thought the night before had been the pleasant image of dragging a bloody Sholoi behind his pony, but it was just a fantasy born of humiliation. Bekter had survived, he reminded himself, sighing, wondering how the big ox had managed to hold his temper.
He heard a creak of hinges as Sholoi opened the small door, letting in enough cold starlight for Temujin to edge around the stove and past the sleeping forms of Borte and her mother. Somewhere nearby were two other gers with Sholoi’s sons and their grubby wives and children. They had all left the old man years before, leaving only Borte. Despite his rough ways, Sholoi was khan in his own home and Temujin could only bow his head and try not to earn too many cuffs and blows.
He shivered as he stepped outside, crossing his arms in his thick deel so that he was hugging himself. Sholoi was emptying his bladder yet again, as he seemed to need to do every hour or so in the night. Temujin had woken more than once as Sholoi stumbled past him and he wondered why he had been pulled from the blankets this time. He felt a deep ache in his stomach from hunger and looked forward to something hot to start the day. With just a little warm tea, he was certain he would be able to stop his hands shaking, but he knew Sholoi would only cackle and sneer if he asked for some before the stove was even lit.
The herds were dark figures under the starlight as Temujin emptied his own urine into the soil, watching it steam. The nights were still cold in spring and he saw there was a crust of ice on the ground. With a south-facing door, he had no trouble finding east, to look for the dawn. There was no sign of it and he hoped Sholoi did not rise at such an early hour every day. The man may have been toothless, but he was as knotted and wiry as an old stick and Temujin had the sinking feeling that the day would be long and hard.
As he tucked himself in, Temujin felt Sholoi’s grip on his arm, pushing at him. The old man held a wooden bucket, and as Temujin took it, he picked up another, pressing it into his free hand.
