Authors: Conn Iggulden
Jochi woke from sleeping like a dead man in pine woods, halfway up a mountain slope. He lay still in pitch darkness, raising his left hand before his face and blinking wearily. The Arabs judged dawn as the time when a black thread could be distinguished from a white one, and it was not yet light enough for that. He yawned and knew he would not sleep again now that his battered body had dragged itself awake. His legs were stiff in the mornings and he began each day by rubbing oil into the raised scars from the hot irons and the tiger’s claws. He worked the ridged skin with his thumbs, grunting in relief as the muscles relaxed. It was then that he heard hoofbeats in the darkness and one of his scouts calling.
“Over here,” he said. The scout dismounted and came to kneel by him. It was one of the Chin recruits and Jochi handed him the pot of oil to continue as he listened. The scout talked quickly in his own language, but Jochi interrupted only once to ask for the meaning of a word.
“In three weeks, we’ve seen no sign of an armed force and now they come creeping at us in the dark,” Jochi said, wincing as the Chin warrior’s thumbs worked a tender spot.
“We could be miles away by dawn, General,” the scout murmured.
Jochi shook his head. His men would allow him to run if he had some plan to draw an enemy into an ambush. To simply retreat would undermine him with all the groups of his tuman.
He cursed softly. In the moonless night, he could not know where the enemy were or how many came against him. His best trackers would be useless. His one advantage was that he knew the land. The isolated valley to the south had been his training ground for half a month, and he had used it to work his men to a new edge of toughness. Along with his scouts, he knew every back trail and piece of cover from one end to the other.
“Fetch my
minghaan
officers to me,” he said to the scout. The ten senior officers could spread his orders quickly to the individual thousands of his tuman. Genghis had created the system and it worked well. Jochi had only added Tsubodai’s idea of naming each thousand and each jagun of a hundred men. It led to less confusion in battle and he was pleased with them.
The Chin scout handed him the pot of oil and bowed his head before scurrying away. Jochi stood and was pleased to find his legs had stopped aching, at least for a while.
By the time his men were walking their mounts up to the ridge that led down into the valley beyond, two more scouts had come in. The sun was not yet up, but the gray light of the wolf dawn was over the hills, when men felt life stir in their limbs. Jochi saw the scouts were chuckling and gestured for them to come to his side. They too were of Chin stock, but the usually impassive warriors were visibly amused at something.
“What is it?” Jochi asked impatiently. The two men exchanged a glance.
“Those coming are Mongols, General.”
Jochi blinked in confusion. It was true that he could make out the faces of the scouts in the dim light, but they had ridden through darkness to get back to him.
“How do you know?” he demanded.
To his surprise, one of them tapped his nose.
“The smell, General. The breeze is north to south and there is no mistaking it. Arab warriors do not use rancid mutton fat.”
The scouts clearly expected Jochi to be relieved, but instead he narrowed his eyes, dismissing them with a sharp gesture. It could only be Arslan’s tuman, led by the new man his father had promoted. He had not had the chance to know Jebe before Genghis sent him out. Jochi showed his teeth in the darkness. He would meet him on his own terms at least, on land Jebe could not know as well.
Jochi passed on new orders and they increased the pace, needing to
be in the valley before dawn. They had all heard the news of another tuman in the area and, like their general, were eager to show what they could do. Destroying Shah Mohammed’s armies could not bring them the satisfaction of confounding their own.
With the sun above the horizon, Jebe moved slowly forward. His warriors had crept through the last of the darkness, moving stealthily to surround a valley where they could hear warriors and horses. The whinnying calls carried far in the bowl of hills, and Jebe had left forty mares in season well back, where they would not call to stallions.
The first light made the young general smile to see the terrain ahead. Warriors moved in dark smudges on the land, surrounded on all sides by slopes and crags. The shamans told stories of great stones hurtling from the stars and gouging valleys. This looked like such a place. Jebe spotted a prominent ridge where he could direct the flanking groups and used the tree cover to move toward it, always out of sight from those on the valley floor. He did not intend to take lives, only to show the Mongol tuman that he could have destroyed them. They would not forget the sight of his armed lines coming thundering down the slopes.
Jebe’s eyes were sharp over distance and he was pleased to see no sign of alarm in those he watched. They were clearly training and he could see a line of distant discs that could only be straw archery targets. Rank after rank galloped and shot their arrows at full speed before looping back for another try. Jebe chuckled as he heard the distant calls of Mongol horns.
With two senior men and two flag bearers, Jebe tied his reins to a pine tree and crouched, moving slowly to the ridge. For the last few paces, he approached on his stomach, worming forward until he could see the entire green valley. It was still too far to recognize the general, but Jebe nodded at the sharp formations as they wheeled and maneuvered. Whoever it was had trained his men well.
Half a mile away, Jebe saw a flash of red, gone as quickly as it had appeared on a high crag. His left flank had found themselves a slope they could ride, and they were ready. He waited for the right flank to do the same and his heart beat faster when a flag of blue flickered.
Something nagged at him then, spoiling his concentration. Where were the other scouts, the men who were meant to watch for exactly this sort of attack? The valley floor was vulnerable to any hostile force,
and Jebe could not think of one of Genghis’s generals who would leave himself blind. His men had orders to disarm the scouts before they could sound their horns, but that was down to luck. Perhaps the sky father was watching over his endeavors this day, and the scouts had been taken in silence. He shook his head warily.
“Where are the scouts?” he muttered. The closest man to him was Palchuk, who had married Genghis’s sister, Temulun. Jebe had found him a solid choice, for all he suspected Genghis had broken his own rules to promote him.
“There is no large army close to this place,” Palchuk said, shrugging. “Perhaps they have brought the scouts further in.”
On the other side of the valley, Jebe saw a twinkle of light. The distance was too far for flags to be seen, but his man carried a piece of Chin glass and used it to reflect the sun. Jebe put aside his doubts and stood. A hundred paces behind the general lay two thousand men with their ponies beside them. The animals were well trained and hardly made a sound as the men removed their arms from the necks and allowed them to stand.
“Keep the bows in the saddle holders,” Jebe called. “We are training men, not killing them.”
Palchuk chuckled softly as he and Jebe mounted with the rest. They would charge on four fronts, converging in the center, where Jebe would meet the general. He reminded himself not to gloat when the man acknowledged him.
As Jebe raised his arm to give the order, he saw a red flash on the left, as if his flank were signaling again.
“What are they doing?” he said aloud. Before Palchuk could answer, men erupted from the ground on every side. Jebe’s warriors shouted in confusion as warriors stood up from shallow pits, holding drawn bows. They had waited through the last of the darkness in complete silence, covered in a thick layer of leaf mulch and dead pine needles. In just moments, more and more of them were aiming sharp arrows at Jebe as he turned his mount in amazement.
He saw Jochi come striding out from between the trees and threw his head back to laugh. The khan’s son did not reply until he had walked to Jebe’s stirrup. Jochi dropped his hand to the wolf’s-head sword.
“Your men are taken, General,” he said. “No one is coming and you are mine.” Only then did Jochi smile, and those closest surrounded Jebe, grinning evilly.
“I
knew
there should have been more scouts out,” Jebe said. Accepting the mood, he handed over his own sword. Jochi bowed to him and handed it back, his face bright with success. As Jebe watched in amusement, Jochi blew a long note on a scout’s horn that echoed across the valley. Far below, the warriors stopped their maneuvers and their cheering voices carried even to the heights.
“You are welcome in my camp, General,” Jochi said. “Will you ride down to the valley with me?”
Jebe bowed to the inevitable. He waited until Jochi’s men had put aside their weapons and horses had been brought up to the ridge.
“How did you know I would direct my men from here?” he asked Jochi.
The khan’s son shrugged. “It’s where I would have chosen.”
“And you were trained by Tsubodai,” Jebe replied wryly.
Jochi smiled, choosing not to mention the men he had hidden at four other places along the ridge. The hours of silent waiting had been damp and cold, but seeing Jebe’s expression when they stood up had made the discomfort worthwhile.
The two generals rode together down the slope to the valley, comfortable in each other’s presence.
“I have been giving thought to a name for my tuman,” Jochi said.
Jebe looked at him, raising his eyebrows.
“Tsubodai has his Young Wolves and it has a better ring than ‘Jochi’s warriors’ or ‘Jebe’s tuman,’ don’t you think?”
Jebe had witnessed this strange young man standing his ground when a tiger leapt at him. The striped skin lay under Jochi’s saddle and Jebe was uncomfortably aware of the rotting bearskin he sat upon. Jochi did not seem to have noticed it.
“Are you thinking of tigers or something of that sort?” Jebe said warily.
“Oh no, it doesn’t have to be an animal,” Jochi said, and then he did glance at the bearskin.
Jebe felt his cheeks flush and chuckled again. He liked this khan’s son, no matter what was said of him in the camps. Whether he was truly Genghis’s son or not, Jebe relaxed. He sensed none of the blustering arrogance he had seen in Chagatai, and it pleased him.
They had ridden down to where Jochi’s men waited in perfect squares. Jebe inclined his head to the officers, giving them honor in front of their men.
“They look dangerous enough,” Jebe said. “What about the ‘Iron Lance’?”
“Iron Lance,” Jochi repeated, testing the sound. “I like ‘Iron,’ but I have too few lances to make the name work. It wouldn’t seem right to make them retrain to fit the name.”
“ ‘Iron Horse’ then,” Jebe replied, caught up in the game. “They all have mounts, at least.”
Jochi reined in. “I like that! Tsubodai has the Young Wolves. I have the Iron Horse. Yes, it is very stirring.” He smiled as he spoke and suddenly both men were laughing, to the confusion of the officers around them.
“How did you know we were coming?” Jebe asked.
“I smelled that bearskin,” Jochi replied, setting them both off again.
Jochi’s men had hunted well and had meat enough for all Jebe’s warriors. Taking the lead from the two generals who sat together like old friends, the tumans mingled easily and the mood was light. Only the scouts stayed high on the hills, and this time Jochi sent men out for miles as he had every day of the training. He could not be surprised in his valley.
Jebe allowed his men to train with Jochi and spent most of the day discussing tactics and the terrain they had covered. He accepted Jochi’s offer to sleep in the makeshift camp, and it was not until the following dawn that he decided to leave. It had been a pleasant break from hard riding and trail rations. Jebe had eaten well and Jochi had provided the last of a stock of airag for the senior men. Jochi had not once referred to the way he had surprised the other general on the heights, and Jebe knew he was in his debt. The men would be talking about it for months.
“I will leave you with your Iron Horse, General,” Jebe said as the sun rose. “Perhaps I will find a name for my own men in time.”
“I will think on it,” Jochi promised. For a moment, he lost his light manner.
“I have few friends, Jebe. Shall I call you one of them?”
Jebe did not reply at first. The khan’s son walked a hard path and he felt a chill at the thought of being caught between Genghis and this tall young man. Perhaps it was the debt he owed, or simply because he
truly liked Jochi, but he had always been impulsive. With a quick gesture, he drew a knife and gashed his palm, holding it out.
Jochi stared, then nodded. He copied the gesture and the two men clasped their right hands together. It was no small thing and the men around them were silent as they looked on.
In the distance, two scouts were riding in, and the moment was broken as they both turned. From the sheer speed, they knew in an instant that the scouts had news, and Jebe put aside his plans to leave until he had heard.
They were Jochi’s men and Jebe could only stand and listen as they reported.
“The enemy are in sight, General. Thirty miles south and coming west.”
“How many?” Jebe said, unable to stop himself.
The scout saw Jochi nod and answered.
“I cannot count such a force of men and horses, General. More than all the khan’s warriors, perhaps twice as many. They travel with huge beasts I have not seen before, armored in gold.”
“The Shah is in the field,” Jochi said with satisfaction. “My Iron Horse will ride to see them. Will your Bearskins come with us?”
“I do not like ‘Bearskins’ at
all,”
Jebe replied.
“It is a fine name, but we will discuss it as we ride,” Jochi replied, whistling for his horse and bow.
THOUGH THEY MADE GOOD TIME
on the hill trails that Jochi knew well, it took most of the day for the tumans to reach the point where the scout had seen the Shah’s army. In mountainous lands, it was sometimes possible for two armies to pass only a valley apart and never know the other was there. Yet if the scout’s estimates were right, such a host could not be hidden. In late afternoon, the generals were close enough to see a trail of reddish dust that hung in the air like a false horizon. Jebe and Jochi came together to discuss a plan for the first contact with the army of the Shah. With older men, deciding who would ride to the other might have been delicate. Jochi was the son of the khan, while Jebe was seven years more experienced. With the red lines still fresh on their palms, neither made an issue of it. They rode to a central point to discuss their plans and observe the enemy.