Casca 22: The Mongol (9 page)

They were greeted at first with cries of joy at their return, then a wailing from the women began as they discovered that not all had returned. There would be a great wailing this night from the families of the slain, then life would go on as usual. The widows would either find new husbands or members of the slain ones' families and the tribe would all contribute to the widows and their children enough food and goods to keep them alive till the children were old enough to hunt and kill, or for the girl children to take husbands.

Gruffly Bolar ordered for Temujin and Casca to be taken to the yurt of one of the slain warriors who had no family. There they could rest. Bolar eyed Temujin with ill-concealed dislike and Casca with obvious dislike.
"We shall speak more tonight. As guests, you shall eat with me and we shall see what comes to pass on the things we have talked of."

With that he gruffly ordered Chagar to see to the animals and the packs, then to come to him later. For now his bones ached and he knew that he would not make many more rides of that distance. The days when he would be able to move with the herds from one pasture to the next were growing short on him. Too many winters.

It would be good, he thought, to be able to stay in one place and rest out the cold before a good fire cared for by your women and children, as was the custom of the Chin. Angry at himself, he resisted the temptation to pound at his own head to remove such thoughts. He was Mongol. The life of city dweller would kill him even faster than the terrible winters of the steppes.

Bitter and tired, he entered his yurt after ordering that Chagar's bride be put in a yurt with one of his daughters, of which he had three.

As soon as they had unloaded their horses and Temujin had made certain that the horse of the dead Tatars they had killed were hitched together to graze (he wanted to make certain that his property was not lost in the herd of the Quonqurat), Casca went to wash himself in the river. This was finally accomplished with a great deal of cursing, swearing, and shivering as he wished fervently for the hot baths of more civilized climes. He hated cold water. Every time he came in contact with it, he thought his nether parts were going to climb all the way up to his throat.

It was with even more regret that he lay down on the sheepskin robes left behind by the former owner of the yurt, for soon he was not alone, as the dormant insect life came awake at the warmth
of his body. Only exhaustion and a sore, aching back and ass forced him to sleep as the small associates he had acquired crawled over his skin.

They crawled but they did not bite. Sometimes having bad blood was a blessing. He smiled to himself just before he fell asleep. He heard Temujin scratching and mumbling as he tried to sleep.

It was the following night before they met with Bolar Khan again. The old man was still furious at Temujin and his ugly companion, and even more so at his son, Chagar.
He tried to explain his feelings to Darbai, his younger half-brother by fifteen years. He couldn't find the words. This was outside of his experience.

He knew how to run his tribe, and he thought he knew how to run his children. Chagar had disappointed him, and he had the feeling that Bortei, Ashif Khan's daughter and younger than Chagar by two years, was going to be a problem for him too.

It seemed their family was to be cursed with unruly children. Chagar had always been a bit different but still a good boy and son, and now, in the matter of an instant, he had turned against his own father. He wondered now if he had made a good match or not.

Ashif had told him he was relieved to be rid of his daughter, for she gave him no peace. He had told Bolar that Bortei had always been much too bull
-headed for any ordinary man. It would take a strong one to deal with her. Perhaps Chagar was not that man – unless he returned to his senses.

That night they came to eat with Bolar Khan and his family. The Borjigin khan had a semi-permanent structure of logs and hides for his home. It was spacious enough for twenty people to sit around a low, flat, circular table on well-worn carpets and dusty furs to sip cha with lumps of yak butter floating on the top.

At the gathering were Bolar Khan, Chagar, Darbai, and his soon-to-be daughter Bortei, to serve them the roasted goat and the sweet bread made of the pignon seeds, of which all peoples of the steppes were fond.

Bolar Khan forbade talk of business until they finished their meal. He knew that if they began talking before they ate, he would lose his appetite – and he was hungry.

Casca noticed that Bortei, the wife-to-be of Chagar, almost completely ignored him and made certain that Temujin got the best cuts of the goat, serving it to him over his shoulder, her breasts brushing his shoulder. Casca could see the blood rise in Temujin's face.

Chagar didn't seem to notice, though Bortei was a beauty by nomad standards. Her face was full, with a longer nose than normal among steppes people. Probably like Temujin, she had a mixture of blood, some of which jumped a generation or two and could show up in one child and not the other.

Once the goat was done and they were served more of the vile cha with butter, Bolar Khan permitted them to get down to business. "As I said, Temujin, I have one here who was in Yeshugei's domains for some time. He is waiting outside. Should I send him in?"

Temujin nodded his head vigorously, his gray eyes flashing. He wanted this done. "Yes. Please do, Bolar Khan. Let us see what he knows."

Bolar Khan roared out at the top of his lungs for the man to be sent in. The flap to the cabin opened, permitting what looked like a man, but it was difficult to tell under the filthy skins, scraps of cloth, and scum. The man's face had collapsed in on itself. The teeth in the back had been ground to stubs, and the cheeks sucked in over the jawbones. His eyes were lost in folds of loose skin, like those incredibly ugly dogs Casca had seen in Chin.

With him came also an odor of things long dead, or which at least ought to be. He groveled his way over to the round table, keeping out of the group, his loose lips quivering at the aroma of cooked meat.

Bolar Khan had no liking for this so-called qam or seer. But it was never wise to let them know it. Somehow people tended to die when they offended one of these horrible creatures too much. Of Temujin he demanded, "Do you know this man?"

It took a moment for Temujin to see through the crust and make out the man's features. The creature answered before him.

"Yes, you know old Aq-Tagh, the one named after the mountain. It was I and Teb-Tengri who read the stars that night of your birth, young master. Ah, yes. We told your father, Yeshugei, and your mother of the portents."

He squinted his eyes to see better the face of Temujin. "Are you yet master of all the tribes?"

Bolar Khan rose to his feet. "Master of the Tribes!" he screamed. "It is bad enough that you take my son from me, but to claim to be my master is more than I can bear. I swear that if the spirits of my fathers do not strike me down this instant, I shall drive you from my camp and people."

Bolar Khan's face went pale. A sudden great, crushing weight set upon his chest. He tried to claw at his heart, then fell forward, spilling the pot of cha. He was dead before any could touch him.

Darbai backed away in horror. This was a powerful omen. Bolar Khan had asked for his father's spirits to take him, and they had. There was a power in the room. He could feel it. Sweat broke out on his forehead and under his arms.

Chagar held his father's head off the table, wiping the cha and yak butter from his face. Bortei stood to the rear, her eyes never leaving Temujin.

Darbai didn't know what to say. Fear sat on him. Battle he knew, but this was something he wished he had not seen. "I do not know much of what has passed between you and my brother, Temujin. But obviously he was in the wrong." To Chagar he asked, "What do we do now, Nephew? You are the next in line?"

Chagar laid his father's head down, covering it with a scrap of hide.
"I don't know, Uncle. I do not want to be Khan of the Borjigin. I have already found my master and will serve him. If he wishes it, I will accept. If not, then it should be you. You have the most experience and wisdom. The tribe will be better served if you take my father's place and leave me to serve Temujin Khan."

Temujin saw an opportunity. Walking to where he could see clearly the faces of both Chagar and Darbai, he pronounced, "You heard his words. Bolar Khan died of his own words."
To Aq-taqh he commanded, "Tell Darbai of the signs."

Aq-Tagh did as he was bade and relayed the story of Temujin's birth and all that had passed that night.

Darbai broke into an even greater sweat, for there was sorcery or magic here this night. He understood now why Chagar had pledged fealty to this boy of his own age, and why Bolar Khan had died of his own words. "Then it is for you to tell us what is to be done, Temujin Khan."

Temujin liked the sound of it. For the first time he had twice this night been called Khan.
"Very well. This is what shall be done. I will have need of Chagar. You will take the place of Bolar Khan as head of the tribe, and you will render me assistance in throwing out Jemuga."

Those were orders, not requests. Darbai nodded his head in acceptance. He was a good man but not overly bright.

Seeing Bortei's eyes shining brightly at him, he made another decision, for he had noticed that Chagar did not seem truly anxious to wed her. Perhaps like Casca, the sight of a man's balls in her hands had been a bit unnerving. "Chagar, Bortei, answer me true. Do you wish to wed each other?"

There was an awkward silence at first, but Bortei gave Chagar the opportunity to speak first.
Clearing his throat, he avoided her eyes. "It is not that I do not wish to wed, Lord. But I think I can best serve you if I am free of any attachments at this time."

"Bortei, do you wish to be free of this marriage so that you may make your own choice of a husband?" His words sent rivers of chills over her body. She knew what he was saying.

Demurely she lowered her eyes. Her voice was as honey. "Yes, there is another I would take to husband. I do not think I would be a good wife for Chagar."

Temujin felt the blood begin to pound in his temple. "Who would you be a good wife to, Bortei?"

She raised her eyes and looked deep into his soul, and what she saw, she wanted. This was the man, more than a man. He would beat her when she needed it and make her obey. "You, Temujin Khan."

Casca watched all this in amazement. In one hour's time Temujin had put the Borjigin under his control and taken the woman promised to a man who vowed to serve him to the death, and the man looked relieved for it.

"Chagar!" Temujin asked. "Would you have me take the responsibility for this woman from you?"

Chagar felt a great weight lift from his shoulders.
"Aye, Lord. If it is your pleasure to do this for me."

"Then it is done. You, Bortei, shall be my first wife. The ceremonies will be held on the morrow, and immediately you will begin to bear me sons. Is that understood?"

Bortei dropped to her knees, lowering her head to the floor in submission, as she would never have done to Chagar, and whispered gently, "Yes, Lord. It is quite clear."

After they had left the cabin, for Chagar and his uncle to deal with disposal of the dead khan, Temujin gave a full grin, showing his bright teeth in the darkness.
"We did good this night, Old Young One. And did you see the relief on Chagar's face when I took Bortei from him? I think he was truly frightened of her. The fool. She is truly a treasure, and fit to give birth to a race of kings."

Casca laughed with him. But he would forever carry in his mind the image of Bortei, the Tatar's balls slapping her gently between her soft brown eyes.
He shivered, and it was not from the cold of the night. Temujin would not let him sleep that night until it was almost first light. He talked and talked.

"Did I not promise that I would find us allies once we came close to my land? We have them, and now, with Bortei as my first wife, I can make a claim on the Quonqurat. Already we have the Borjigins of Chagar."

Casca grumbled sleepily. "Why didn't you just take over the tribe yourself? Both of them were ready to give it to you."

Temujin laughed at him merrily. "Old Young One, where are your brains? It is not yet time for me to do so. Let Darbai become Khan here, and Chagar serve me. That way I do not alienate the people and continue to keep the Borjigin under my control. It is much better that way, and more secure for the future."

It was as Temujin said. The next day he took Bortei to wife. The ceremony was simple; he broke bread and salt, she ate, and that was it. She was his. A quraltai was called for the Borjigin, and as expected, Darbai was proclaimed Khan of the Borjigin.

They spent six weeks with tribe. Casca and Temujin practiced swordplay, use of the battle-ax, and the morning star, and every day and sometimes through the night when Temujin could get away from Bortei, who was determined to live up to her promise to bear him sons.

They discussed tactics and strategy, including movement, terrain, politics, and the structure of different political administrative formulas. Casca was amazed how much he recalled. But Temujin made him dig for the most obscure pieces of information, hidden in the recesses of his memory.

Bolar Khan was buried under a pile of rocks in the woods. Two male slaves were executed to serve him in the afterlife – if there was one.

The quraltai was a tradition according to which the tribe could nominate a different leader if enough of them so chose. They seldom did. It was always easier to let others do the thinking, and Darbai was well liked and respected.

Chagar felt nothing but relief and gratitude to Temujin for taking Bortei off his hands, and probably his back, for the rest of his life. He had never wanted the marriage, but his father had insisted on it for political reasons.

He was not political. It was enough that he had a master, and he would sit sometimes with Casca and Temujin, listening to them talk of places far away and what things had happened in the years past and what might come in the future.
He was a believer, as one who follows a religion blindly. So he would follow Temujin all the days of his life. Even in those first days there was nothing that could break his faith. He was a loyal dog. The death of his father didn't bother him. He had never liked the old man very much, anyway. Not that he would have done anything to harm him. He was just neutral. Now that he was gone and Darbai was master of the Borjigin, he was free to follow Temujin and the strange foreigner.

In the six weeks they were there, Temujin was able to gather about him young men who were bored with the pastoral life. The story of his birth and what had happened to Bolar Khan when he'd challenged him spread rapidly through the camp.
Temujin won deference and even a bit of superstitious fear. But young men love good stories, and this had the making of one. Of an adventure.

The old shaman did his best to enhance the story with each telling, for as he told the story he would be permitted to eat from the common pot, taking the most succulent pieces of flesh, especially those dripping with great yellow globs of heavy fat, which he would worry between his toothless gums till it was limp and slick enough to slide down his gullet.

If he had chosen to, he probably could have taken most of the young from the tribe with him. But to do so would make too many enemies. Instead, after speaking with Casca, he let Darbai give him the loan of one hundred young warriors between the ages of sixteen and twenty. Casca said these were the years at which they would have the best chance of learning new things. And he wanted them to learn.

At first they were reluctant to try anything new, but as Casca and Temujin showed them in practice that those who fought in the old way would die, they soon began to pay attention. Casca had Temujin organize them in tens. With Chagar as the leader of the hundred, Temujin would remain – whether in command of one hundred or one hundred thousand – the master.

It came the time when Temujin was to return to his lands. He had left a pauper, alone and without wealth or weapons. He was returning with one hundred well-trained young warriors who believed in his destiny.

Before they left, Temujin had Darbai arrange to return Bortei to her tribe of the Quonqurat and there inform her father of the changes in her life and to await word from him. He and his band of stalwart warriors would be coming close to the borders of the Quonqurat, but he was not yet ready to meet her father.
She was pregnant when she left. She was not showing yet, but she knew the seed of Temujin was alive and strong in her womb.

Casca watched Temujin lead his small army out of the camp of the Borjigin. He strutted, if it was possible to do so from horseback. His eyes shone with pride and promise.
Casca wasn't so sure. A hundred men was still very far from an empire. But who knows? And he had nothing better to do, so he rode along to see what would be the conclusion of this story.

From the village they passed through the last of the Khanghai range onto the plains between the Rivers Selenga and Orkhon, skirting the lands of the Kereit of Ong Khan.
One more river crossing and they entered the ancestral lands of the Mongols. Here, where the plains ran as far as the mind could reach, was the breeding place of the savage tribes of the steppes.

To the west were the Quonqurat of Bortei; to the north the Merkit; and behind them three hundred miles, the Naiman, the Tumat. Quigiz and numerous large family clans too small to be called tribes were to be found in the Sayan mountain range, along the Rivers Tannu-Qla and Yenesei.

Water was the stuff of life. Those who could claim land along the river were blessed. The other poorer, less powerful tribes, were pushed out into the Gobi or Tien Shan deserts to scratch as best they could for life.

To the south was the River Tula and Ulan Bator, the only city of any consequence for hundreds of miles. And it was no more than a pigsty fit for traveling bandits and beggars.

Temujin led them past this to an alley in the Kentei Mountains. There he had them make camp. The journey had been slow and uneventful. Ten days to cover only three hundred miles. Normally they could cover a hundred miles a day, but Temujin wanted the time on the trek to get to know his army better.

The trail told one many things about the people he traveled with – who was a slacker and who would do more than his share. It was an excellent testing ground. However, he had done well in the selection of his warriors. With the aid of Chagar and Casca, they had weeded out the troublemakers early. These hundred would serve him well.

Once camp was made and the animals cared for, Temujin called a war council, consisting of he, Casca, and Chagar. It was time to find out what was happening in his village where the Qiyat, the tribe of his fathers, awaited his return. It would be good to talk with his brothers Jochi and Temuge. Temuge was his youngest full brother and was three years younger and his favorite. Elchitei and Belgutei were not in the camp. They had gone on Jemuga's orders to another village near the junction of the Rivers Orkhon and Shilka. Jemuga thought four of Yeshugei's brats in the same camp might be too much to keep the peace.

Casca would have gone, but Temujin was concerned that he might be recognized by someone who had been to Qura-Qurom, and if that occurred, they might be able to place him and Temujin together.

Jemuga was very suspicious, and that could prove exceedingly painful. No, it was best if Chagar went on this mission and brought his brothers here to him. From them he would find out all he needed to know. Then they would make plans for the removal of Jemuga.

The way Temujin spoke of Jemuga made Casca think that it would have been a good thing to have one like him on their side. He had once asked Temujin if he thought there was any possibility of bringing Jemuga over to them.

Temujin had laughed bitterly, replying with a touch of the sadness that memories bring, "I wish that it were so, Old Young One. Jemuga was one of the best men I have ever known. But it has gone too far between us now. He must be put to rest for my mind to be free. I must pay my debt to him.

"None will have faith in me if I forgive him or let him go. You do not yet know very well my people, Old Young One. Vengeance they understand. What you call mercy is a strange and alien concept to most of them. But do not feel compassion for Jemuga.

"If you think I am a savage, it is only because you have not yet met him. I don't know what happened. But something changed him. He was the friend of my childhood, and now he is a wild animal that I must destroy. I can never rest completely as long as I know that he draws a breath upon this earth."

It took Chagar four days to return from the village of the Qiyats. He had followed behind mounted on a shaggy bay gelding, a smaller replica of Temujin's. The boy looked to be about fourteen years old and was armed to the teeth with bow, sword, lance, and even a small ax hanging from a leather thong attached to his saddle.

When they were spotted coming, Temujin swung into the saddle, racing out to meet them. From where Casca sat on a boulder, he saw at first much backslapping, hugging, then, as if aware of his dignity as a leader of warriors, Temujin swung back into his saddle and stiffly rode back to their camp, with Chagar and Temuge following behind.

Temujin always had to be in the lead. Well, that was his nature. At least he did show the first bit of normal human feelings for another. Maybe there was hope he could become civilized. Casca thought about that for a moment, then shook his head from side to side. No way!

After leading them all away from the rest of the men, Temujin introduced his youngest brother to Casca. Temuge looked at him with awe, as though a ghost story had come true. Temuge kept his distance from Casca, though he never took his eyes off him for very long. Temujin laughed at his brother's actions, saying, "Don't worry, Temuge. He is on our side. I know he's ugly, but you will get used to him after a time. Now tell us what has happened since I left. Where is Jochi?"

Temuge relaxed a bit. His voice was higher and he was smaller and thinner. Other than that, Casca thought he knew exactly how Temujin looked when he was the same age, which was not that long ago.
"First, my brother. Jochi thought it was best if only I came. As I am the youngest, Jemuga does not pay much attention to me. He will not miss me if I am gone for a few days. On the other hand, he watches Jochi like a hawk. He knows every time he goes to empty his bowels."

Temuge broke into a high-pitched, boyish laugh. "Jochi says that he goes to shit so often, hoping one day he'll look down and there will be Jemuga spying on him."

Everyone joined in the laughter. It was good and broke up much of the tension as everyone was waiting to hear about Jemuga and what plans could be made to eliminate him.

"That's good, little brother. I am glad to see you can still laugh. But now tell me of Jemuga and the tribe."

"As you say, Temujin, Jemuga is not well loved. There are few who follow him willingly, but he has some who do. They prey on the rest of us like wolves on sheep. The slightest wrong word or look and you die. But if you are to take Jemuga, then you must get rid of those who stand by him. Many are from outside the tribes, though all are hated."

Temuge sat down, pursing and sucking his lips.
"How many will fight for Jemuga?"

Temuge looked around at Casca and Chagar. "I don't know. If you meet him in open battle, there will be many who will be afraid not to join with him. On the other hand, if you can take his men, who number about four hundred in the camp though there are more who oversee the rest of the camps, he will have little if any support. Most will just wait and see who survives. They remember our father well, but they know you were driven out by Jemuga. Take our camp. Throw out Jemuga and all will follow you. Fail and be driven out again and they will have no faith that you will ever take over our father's place."

Casca liked the way the boy thought. Like Temujin, he was young but seemed to have a good mind. Their father, Yeshugei, must have been a hell of a man, for he'd certainly trained his son well.

Temujin stood up, dusting off the seat of his trousers. "I think you are right, little brother. As the Old Young One once said, `Take the head and the body follows.' Or words to that effect. He says the same things so many different ways sometimes, it is hard to keep them all straight. But anyway, that is what it means. We will go after Jemuga. If his men get in the way, we'll be ready for them."

Putting his arm around Temuge's shoulders, he gave him a hug. "Now return to the camp. I know there are some there who remember me and would like to see me regain the khanship of our father. As soon as you return, don't waste time sleeping or resting. Immediately seek them out and speak to them – but only those you are absolutely certain of.

"Tell them I will come with men five nights from now. We will attack just before dawn, going straight for Jemuga's yurt. All my men have to do is hold his off long enough for me to kill him, and they will fall apart.

"Now, before you make the ride back, show us the layout of the camp – where the guards are stationed and, most important, the location of Jemuga's yurt. And once you return, do not forget to tell Jochi to be ready from the moment you return."

Once Temuge had drawn the layout of the camp, Temujin took him back to his horse and hugged him firmly, saying with affection, "One day, for what you and Jochi have done, I shall make you kings. Now ride, little brother, and remember to tell Jochi to be ready from this moment on."

Temuge leapt into the saddle with an ease and grace that Casca hated, reared his horse back on its hind legs, waved his sword in salute, heeled the bay, and was gone in a cloud of dust.

"Temujin," he asked, "do you think it wise to have him tell anyone of the time when we are going to attack?"