Authors: Conn Iggulden
“I know your family, Yan. I know your village, do you understand?” Chen Yi said.
The man stiffened, understanding the threat. He did not respond.
“You are too old to be a dock guard,” Chen Yi told him. “In your hands you have enough to buy retirement, a smallholding perhaps, with a wife and chickens. Perhaps it is time for you to leave the docks behind.”
The man nodded in the gloom, clutching the bag to his chest.
“If I am taken, Yan, I have friends who will find you no matter where you run.”
The man nodded again, jerkily. His fear was obvious and Temuge wondered yet again who Chen Yi was, if that was even his real name. Surely no cargo of stolen Imperial silk would be trusted to a simple boat master.
The soldier vanished back among the buildings, moving quickly with so much wealth on his person. Chen Yi climbed back on the cart and the drivers clicked in their throats to the mules, starting them off. Temuge let his fingers quest under him for the oily feel of silk, but instead met rough cloth with a heavy stitched line. The silk had been covered, but he could only hope Chen Yi had more of his bribed men waiting at Baotou. He was out of his depth, caught up in events he could not control. One good search at the city walls and he would never see the Khenti mountains again. As Kokchu had taught him, he prayed to the spirits to guide him safely through the dark waters of the days to come.
One of the crew stayed behind to take the boat back onto the river. Alone, he could hardly control it, and Temuge guessed it would be sunk somewhere out of sight of questioning officials. Chen Yi was not the sort of man to make mistakes, and Temuge wished he knew whether the man was an enemy or a friend.
Ho Sa’s estimate of the distance to Baotou had been correct, Temuge judged. The city had been built around eight miles from the river— some twenty-five
li,
as the Chin judged distance. The road was a good one, paved with unbroken flat stones so merchants could make good time from the river. Dawn was barely visible to the east as Temuge craned into the gloom and saw the dark shadow of the city wall coming closer. Whatever was going to happen, whether it was a search of the carts that would end in his death or a quiet entry into Baotou, it would happen soon. He felt a nervous sweat prickle on his skin and scratched at his armpits. Apart from the current danger, he had never yet entered a city of stone. He could not shake the image of an ant hill somehow swallowing him up into a heaving mass of strangers. The thought of them pressing close made him breathe shallowly, already afraid. The families of his own people felt very far away. Temuge leaned close to the dark shadow that was his brother, almost touching his ear with his lips so that they would not be overheard.
“If we are discovered at the gate, or the silk is found, we must run and find a place to hide in the city.”
Khasar glanced to where Chen Yi sat on the front of the cart. “Let us hope it does not come to that. We’d never find each other again and I think there is more to our friend than a simple smuggler.”
Temuge sat back on the rough sacking as Chen Yi looked around at them. In the growing light, the intelligence in the little man’s gaze was disconcerting, and Temuge looked past him to the city wall, feeling his nervousness increase.
They were not alone on the road any longer. The dawn light showed a line of carts assembling in front of the gates. Many more had clearly spent the night off the road, waiting to be allowed in. Chen Yi went past these as they stirred, ignoring the yawning men who had missed their place in the line. Mud-brown fields stretched into the distance, the harvest of rice plants all gone to feed the city. Baotou loomed above them all and Temuge swallowed as he looked up and up again at the gray stones.
The city gate was a massive construction of wood and iron, perhaps intended to impress travelers. At each side, towers half as high again as the gate could be seen, with a platform between them. Soldiers were visible there and Temuge knew they would have a clear view of everything that passed below. He saw they carried crossbows and felt his stomach tighten.
The gate opened and Temuge stared as more soldiers heaved it back, blocking entry with a counterweighted wooden spar. The closest carts did not move as the soldiers took their positions, ready for the day. Chen Yi’s drivers pulled gently on the reins, halting their mules. They showed none of the trepidation Temuge felt, and he struggled to remember the cold face he had known as a boy. It would not do for the soldiers to see him sweat on a cold morning, and he rubbed his sleeves over his forehead.
Behind them another merchant pulled up and halted, calling out a cheerful greeting to someone at the side of the road. The line of carts moved slowly into the city, and Temuge could see the soldiers were stopping one in three, exchanging curt conversation with the drivers. The wooden spar had been lifted for the first and was not brought down again. Temuge began to repeat the relaxing phrases Kokchu had taught him, taking comfort from their familiarity. The song of the wind. The land underfoot. The souls of the hills. The breaking of chains.
The sun had risen clear of the horizon by the time Chen Yi’s first cart reached the gate. Temuge had been counting the pattern of searches, and he thought they might pass without interruption when the merchant in front was checked and passed on. With a growing sense of terror, he saw the soldiers look up at Chen Yi’s impassive driver. One of them seemed more alert than his sleepy companions and it was that one who stepped close.
“What is your business in Baotou?” the soldier asked. He addressed the driver, who began a rambling answer. Temuge felt his heart throbbing as Chen Yi looked over the guard’s head into the city. Beyond the gate was an open square and a market already bustling at the first light of dawn. Temuge saw Chen Yi nod sharply and suddenly there was a crash among the stalls that made the soldier half turn.
Running children seemed to erupt from all over the square, yelling and swerving to avoid the stallholders. To Temuge’s astonishment, he saw plumes of smoke rise from more than one location, and he heard the soldier swear and bark orders to his companions. Stalls went over and many more collapsed as the poles holding their awnings were kicked over. Cries of “Thief!” went up and the chaos grew with every moment.
The guard at the gate slapped Chen Yi’s cart, though whether it was an order to stay or go was not clear. With five others, he ran to control what was quickly becoming a riot. Temuge risked a glance upwards, but the crossbowmen on the bridge were hidden from his view. He hoped they too were distracted and forced himself to stare forward as Chen Yi’s driver clicked in his throat and entered the city.
Fire raged in the little square as stall after stall caught and crackled over the cries of the sellers. Temuge saw glimpses of running soldiers, but the children were fast and already they were vanishing into bolt-holes and alleys, some carrying stolen goods.
Chen Yi did not look at the chaotic scene as his two carts turned away from the square into a quieter road. The sounds dwindled behind them and Temuge slumped on the sacking, wiping more sweat from his brow.
It could not have been coincidence, he knew. Chen Yi had given a signal. Once again Temuge wondered about the man they had met on the river. With such a valuable cargo in his hold, perhaps he had not cared about a few extra coins at all. Perhaps he had merely wanted a few more men to defend it.
They trundled through a maze of roads, turning again and again onto smaller tracks between houses. Temuge and Khasar felt hemmed in by the press of buildings, built so close together that the rising sun could not touch the shadows between. Three times, other carts had been forced to back up into side alleys to let them pass, and as the sun rose, the streets filled with more people than Temuge or Khasar could believe. Temuge saw dozens of shops serving hot food from clay bowls. He could hardly imagine finding food whenever you were hungry, without having to slaughter or hunt for the meat. Morning workers clustered around the traders, eating with their fingers and wiping their mouths on cloths before moving back into the throng. Many of them carried holed bronze coins strung onto a cord or a wire. Although Temuge had some idea of the value of silver, he had never seen the exchange of coins for goods, and he gaped at every new wonder. He saw elderly scribes writing messages for payment, squawking chickens held for sale, racks of knives and men to sharpen them on spinning stones held between their legs. He saw cloth dyers with hands stained blue or green, beggars and sellers of amulets against disease. Every street was crowded, loud, and vibrant, and to his surprise, Temuge loved it.
“This is wonderful,” he said under his breath. Khasar glanced at him.
“There are too many people and the city stinks,” he replied. Temuge looked away, irritated with his foolish brother who could not see the excitement of such a place. For a time, he almost forgot the fear that trailed him. He still half expected a shout to go up somehow, as if the gate guards would have followed them so far into the labyrinth of Baotou. It did not come and he saw Chen Yi relax as they wound their way further and further from the walls, disappearing into the teeming heart of the city.
CHAPTER 13
T
HE TWO CARTS RUMBLED ON
over the stone streets until they reached a pair of solid iron gates that opened as soon as they drew up. It took a matter of moments for the carts to enter and the gates to close behind them. Temuge looked back and bit his lip as he saw wooden shutters being unfolded over the bars, blocking the view of passersby.
After the noise and press of humanity, it would have been a relief if not for the sense of being confined. The city had left him dazed and overwhelmed in its complexity. Yet even as it excited him, it pressed too close on his senses and made him long for the empty plains, just to take a breath before plunging back in once more. He shook his head to clear it, knowing he needed a sharp mind for whatever would come.
The carts creaked and jerked as the men jumped off, Chen Yi calling orders to those around him. Temuge climbed down to join Khasar, his earlier nervousness returning in full force. Chen Yi hardly seemed to notice his passengers as a crowd of men came trotting out from the buildings, each pair carrying a roll of silk on their shoulders. It did not take long for the precious cargo to vanish into the house, and Temuge wondered again at the spiderweb of contacts Chen Yi seemed to have in the city.
The home that enclosed the paved courtyard was surely the property of a wealthy man, Temuge thought. It was out of keeping with the shamble of housing they had passed through, though perhaps there were others as well hidden. A single story with a red-tiled roof extended on all sides around him, though the section facing the gate rose in pointed apexes to a second level. Temuge could only blink at the labor that must have gone into so many hundreds or even thousands of tiles. He could not help but compare the building to the felt and wicker gers he had known all his life and felt a touch of envy. What luxury had his people ever known on the plains?
On all sides, the roof extended past the walls, held up with columns of red-painted wood to form a long cloister. Armed men stood at the corners and Temuge began to realize they were prisoners to Chen Yi’s will. There was no easy escape from that place.
When the carts had been emptied, the drivers moved them away and Temuge was left standing with Ho Sa and Khasar, feeling vulnerable under the gaze of strangers. He noticed Khasar had his hand inside the roll of cloth that wrapped his bow.
“We cannot fight our way out,” he hissed at Khasar, who jumped as his thoughts were echoed.
“I don’t see anyone opening the gates to let us go,” Khasar whispered back.
Chen Yi had vanished inside the house and all three men were relieved to see him return. He had put on a long-sleeved black robe as well as donning leather sandals. Temuge saw the little man wore a curved sword on his hip and seemed comfortable with the weight of it.
“This is my
jia:
my home,” Chen Yi said, to Temuge’s private astonishment. “You are welcome here. Will you eat with me?”
“We have business in the city,” Ho Sa said, gesturing toward the gate. Chen Yi frowned. There was no trace of the affable riverboat master in his manner. He seemed to have shed the role completely and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his face stern.
“I must insist. We have many things to discuss.” Without waiting for them to reply, he strode back into the house and they followed him. Temuge cast a lingering look over his shoulder at the gate as he walked into the shadow of the cloister. He repressed a shudder at the thought of the sheer weight of the tiles above his head. Ho Sa did not seem troubled in the least, but Temuge could imagine the massive beams crashing down, crushing them all. He repeated one of Kokchu’s chants under his breath, seeking calm that would not come.
The entrance to the main house was through a wooden door layered in polished bronze, punctured many times in decorative patterns. Temuge saw the shapes of bats etched into the metal and wondered at their significance. Before he could comment, he entered a room as ornate as anything he had ever seen. Khasar dropped the cold face over his features rather than look surprised, but Temuge opened his mouth at the opulence of Chen Yi’s home. For men born in gers, it was astonishing. The air smelled of some strange incense and yet was subtly stale for men who had grown in wind and mountains. Temuge could not help but glance upwards at intervals, constantly aware of the massive weight above his head. Khasar too seemed uncomfortable and cracked his knuckles in the silence.
Couches and chairs stood against screens of ebony and painted silk that allowed light in from other rooms beyond. At first glance, everything seemed made of rich wood in matching colors, pleasing to the eye. Columns of highly polished timber ran the length of the room, reaching up to crossbeams. The floor too was made of thousands of segments, polished so that it almost glowed. After the filth of the city streets, the room was clean and welcoming, the golden wood making it seem warm. Temuge saw that Chen Yi had exchanged his sandals for a pair of clean ones at the door. Flushing, Temuge returned to do the same. As he stepped out of his boots, a servant approached, kneeling before him to help him don a clean set in white felt.
Temuge saw lines of unbroken white smoke rising from brass dishes at a carved table on the far wall. He did not understand what could merit such a symbol of devotion, but Chen Yi bowed his head to the little altar and murmured a prayer of thanks for his safe return.
“You live with great beauty,” Temuge said carefully, striving for the right sounds. Chen Yi inclined his head in the gesture they knew, one habit that had survived the transformation.
“You are generous,” he said. “I think sometimes that I was happier as a young man, running goods on the Yellow River. I had nothing then, but life was simpler.”
“What are you now, to have such wealth?” Ho Sa asked.
Chen Yi nodded to him rather than reply. “You will wish to bathe before you eat,” he said. “The smell of the river is on us all.” He gestured for them to follow and they exchanged glances as he led them through into another courtyard beyond the first. Both Temuge and Khasar straightened a fraction as they passed out into the sunshine and left the heavy beams behind. Water could be heard there and Khasar walked up to a pool where sluggish fish stirred at his shadow. Chen Yi had not noticed him stop, but when he looked back and saw Khasar begin to strip, he laughed delightedly.
“You will kill my fish!” he said. “Come further, where I have baths for you.”
Khasar shrugged irritably, yanking his robe back over his shoulders. He trailed after Temuge and Ho Sa, ignoring the amusement of the Xi Xia soldier.
At the far end of the second courtyard, they saw open doors with wisps of steam spilling out into the warm air. Chen Yi gestured for them to enter.
“Do as I do,” he said. “You will enjoy yourselves.”
He stripped quickly, revealing the scarred and wiry little frame they knew so well from the boat. Temuge saw two pools of water sunk into the floor, with steam rising lazily from one. He would have made for it, but Chen Yi shook his head and instead Temuge watched as two male slaves approached and Chen Yi raised his arms. To Temuge’s astonishment, the men upended buckets of water over their master, then used cloths wrapped around their hands to rub him with some lathering substance until he was slick and white with it. More buckets followed and only then did he step into the pool with a grunt of pleasure.
Temuge swallowed nervously as he dropped his robe to the floor. It was as filthy as he was and he did not relish the idea of being scrubbed by strangers. He closed his eyes as the buckets were poured over his head, then kept them firmly closed as rough hands seemed to pummel his body, swaying him from side to side. The last buckets were freezing and he gasped.
Temuge stepped gingerly into the hot water. He felt the muscles in his back and thighs relax as he found a stone seat beneath the surface, and he grunted in appreciation. The feeling was exquisite. This was how a man should live! Behind him, Khasar slapped away the hands of the attendants as they reached out with their cloths. They stood frozen at his action, before one of them tried again. Without warning, Khasar snapped a fist into the side of the man’s head, knocking him reeling onto the hard tiles.
Chen Yi roared with laughter. He called out an order and the slaves stood back. The one who had been felled rose warily, with his head bowed, as Khasar took up a cloth and wiped at his body until the rag was black. Temuge did not look as Khasar raised a leg onto a stone ledge along the wall to rub his genitals clean. He finished the process by upending a bucket over his own head, all the time glaring at the man he had struck.
Khasar handed the bucket back and murmured something that made the slave tense and set his jaw. Ho Sa endured the process with less fuss and they entered the water together, Khasar swearing in two languages as he lowered himself in.
The four men sat in silence for a time, before Chen Yi rose and plunged into the other pool. They copied him in silent frustration, tired of the routines and delays. In the second pool, Khasar hissed out a breath at the cold, plunging his head under the water and coming up roaring as new energy filled him. Neither of the Mongols had ever known hot water, but a cold dip was no worse than the rivers at home. Temuge looked longingly back at the steaming bath he had left, but did not return to it.
By the time they had settled themselves, Chen Yi was out and being dried by the towel slaves. Khasar and Temuge did not linger and climbed out after him, Khasar blowing like a beached fish. The two slaves did not approach Khasar a second time, instead handing him a large, rough piece of cloth to dry himself. He did so vigorously, his skin showing a fresh bloom. He had removed the string that held his hair, and it whipped around in long black strands.
Temuge looked at the sorry pile of soiled cloth that was his robe and was reaching for it when Chen Yi clapped his hands and the attendants brought in fresh ones. There was pleasure in losing the stink of the boats, Temuge thought, running his hands over the soft material. He could only guess what Chen Yi had in mind for them as they walked back to eat.
The food was plentiful, though Khasar and Temuge looked in vain for mutton among the dishes.
“What is this?” Khasar asked, picking up a piece of white flesh in his fingers.
“Snake in ginger,” Chen Yi replied. He pointed to another bowl. “You will know dog, I am sure.”
Khasar nodded. “When times are hard,” he replied, dipping his fingers into a soup to search for another morsel. Showing no sign of distaste, Chen Yi took up a pair of wooden sticks and showed the Mongols how to grasp a piece of food between them. Only Ho Sa was comfortable and Chen Yi grew slightly flushed as both Khasar and Temuge dropped pieces of meat and rice on the cloth. Once more he showed them, this time putting the pieces onto the plates in front of the Mongols so that they could pick them up with their fingers.
Khasar held his temper. He had been scrubbed, dipped, and given clothes that itched. He was surrounded by strange things he did not understand, and anger simmered underneath the surface. When he gave up on the strange sticks and shoved them upright into a bowl of rice, Chen Yi actually clucked under his breath, removing them with a sharp gesture.
“To leave them so is an insult,” Chen Yi said, “though you could not have known.”
Khasar found a plate of skewered crickets easier to handle, biting into the line of fried insects with evident pleasure.
“This is better,” he said, his mouth working busily. Temuge was prepared to copy whatever Chen Yi did and dipped balls of fried dough into salt water before chewing them. When the crickets were all gone, Khasar reached for a pile of oranges, taking two. After spitting out a piece of skin, he peeled the first with his thumbs and relaxed visibly as he pulled the flesh apart and ate it. He and his brother waited for Chen Yi to speak, their impatience obvious and growing.
When they had all finished, Chen Yi eyed Khasar’s efforts with the orange, then placed his chopsticks on the table and said nothing as his slaves removed all evidence of the meal. When they were alone again, he sat back on his couch. His eyes lost their hooded look and gained once more the sharpness of the river master they knew.
“Why have you come to Baotou?” he said to Temuge.
“Trade,” Temuge replied immediately. “We are merchants.”
Chen Yi shook his head. “Merchants do not carry a Mongol bow, nor shoot one as your brother does. You are of that people. Why would you be here in the lands of the emperor?”
Temuge swallowed painfully as he tried to think. Chen Yi had known for a long time and not given them away, but he could not bring himself to trust the man, especially after so much strangeness and confusion.
“We are of the tribes of the great khan, yes,” he said. “But we have come to open trade between our people.”
“I am a trader. Make your offers to me,” Chen Yi replied. His face gave nothing away, but Temuge could sense the little man’s fierce curiosity.
“Ho Sa asked who you were to have so much wealth,” Temuge said slowly, choosing the words. “You have this house and slaves, but you took the role of a smuggler on the river, bribing guards and staging a diversion at the city gate. Who are you that we should trust you?”
Chen Yi’s gaze was cold as he studied them. “I am a man who is uncomfortable at the thought of you blundering around his city. How long would it take for you to be captured by Imperial soldiers? How long after that before you told them everything you have seen?”
He waited while Temuge translated for his brother.
“Tell him if we are killed or kept as prisoners, Baotou will be burned to the ground,” Khasar said, tearing the second orange in two and sucking out a ragged half. “Genghis will come for us next year. He knows where we are and this little man will see his precious house in flames. Tell him that.”
“You would do well to be quiet, brother, if we are to get out of here with our lives.”
“Let him speak,” Chen Yi said. “How would my city be burned if you are killed?”
To Temuge’s horror, Chen Yi spoke in the language of the tribes. His accent was rough, but clear enough. He froze as he considered all the conversations Chen Yi had overheard in the weeks it had taken to reach Baotou.