The Sky Worshipers

by F. M. Deemyad

  “Many among the conquered people are farmers,” she would say. “If given proper tools, they can produce crops. By providing them with necessities, rather than annihilating them, the ruler can prosper as well.”

  When left alone with Kublai’s younger siblings, Reyhan’s tone became more maternal, and she saw them as babies in need of love more than instructions.

  “My dear children, alphabets are the basic tools of writing. By learning to place them side by side you can form words and sentences. And then something magical happens. You will be able to speak to people all over the world by sending them the lines you have drawn on paper.”

  Ariq Boke appeared to be a timid child who did exactly what Reyhan asked him to do. But Hulagu remained quite a spirited one. The boy had a habit of hiding behind a wall and jumping in front of Reyhan, unexpectedly. He would then laugh heartily whenever he saw the surprised expression on Reyhan’s face. It appeared to Reyhan that Hulagu saw her more as a playmate than a teacher. This did not reduce her admiration of the boy; however, it only increased it. So often she had to remind herself that he was not hers, that other people’s blood, including Genghis Khan’s, ran through his veins.

  With the weather warming up, Hulagu woke up brimming with enthusiasm every morning, seeking Reyhan and pleading with her to either go to the lake or the flower garden before even having breakfast. She often relented and let the boy have it his way. She would pick up Hulagu and Ariq Boke and place them on top of a large white marble statue of a turtle in the palace garden. Hulagu would then boisterously proclaim that he was the ruler of the world, riding his turtle all the way to Damascus. Reyhan laughed at his childish ways, and he giggled sweetly in return.

  Once when Reyhan lifted Hulagu off the stone turtle, she led him to a small pile of mud bricks in a corner of the garden. Siberian pea shrubs were blooming nearby. She asked him to pick up a brick. He did so. She then asked him to hold it with one hand. He tried. Then she asked him to pick up another brick. It was difficult, but the stubborn lad finally managed. His small hands could hardly hold the two bricks together. Finally, he dropped them both. Tears welled up as he stared at her with questioning eyes, wondering what it all meant. “Never take more than you can handle,” she told him as she lifted him and kissed the tears off his cheeks, hoping the hurt would be forgotten and the lesson permanently etched in his memory.

  At times, when Hulagu and his brother were away, visiting their Uncle Ogodei’s palace, Hulagu would return with an eagerness that warmed Reyhan’s heart. She would hold him in a loving embrace, and he would tell her all that had happened in the meanwhile with great emphasis on details.

  “Uncle Ogodei has a ring on his finger with a red stone on it as big as my knuckle. He says that he wants to have the mark of the Mongols cut into the stone. So when he sends a command on paper, he can dip it in ink, and the mark will appear on paper. He said he would one day show me how that works.”

  Reyhan was familiar with the seal. It used to be in a square-shaped ruby with the words “His Holy Majesty in Whose Hands the Sky has Placed Authority and Religion” inscribed in the Mongolian language. Now a geometric design, symbolizing the fact that they were sky worshipers, formed the new Mongol emblem.

  At night, Reyhan made sure to be the one to tuck the boys in bed. She refused to leave the task to her chambermaids or palace workers. “Tell me the story of Arash again,” Hulagu pleaded almost every night. One night, as summer covered them in a blanket of warmth, Reyhan as usual obliged, beginning the story thus:

  “Long ago war was about to break out between the lands of Persia and Transoxiana for they had territorial disputes. The wise king of Persia devised a plan to avoid combat. He asked for a game of archery to determine the boundaries of each land. Arash was a young athlete and had already gained fame for his archery skills.”

  “I want to learn archery,” Hulagu interrupted.

  “I am sure that can be arranged,” Reyhan responded, adding, “Arash was selected to climb the tallest mountain and from there aim at the disputed frontier, determining the border. As he steadied himself on the mountaintop, he placed all his energy and skill into releasing his arrow. He bent backward to such an extent that although his arrow flew like a bird, soaring through the skies and landing far into the territory of Transoxiana, his own body rolled off the mountain into a ravine below. And thus, he gave his life to ensure his homeland’s border.”

  Hulagu’s eyelids had become heavy with sleep. “Mongolia’s borders will one day stretch to the ends of the world,” the future monarch exclaimed drowsily as he closed his eyes.

  “Conquering lands and ignoring the livelihood of its inhabitants seldom profits anyone. By safeguarding such livelihood and allowing the people to thrive, you can actually reap far greater rewards.” That last comment she addressed to the child after he had dozed off. However, Reyhan noticed how Kublai was deep in thought as if his young mind processed that insight. Kublai gave Reyhan a meaningful smile. She reciprocated. At least one child understood her perfectly.

  Reyhan had learned from Baako about an unsuccessful rebellion in her homeland, brutally crushed by the Mongols. Many had died, among them the Jackal. The news had left her melancholy the entire day. She had never seen the famous thief, yet, in her mind he had become a hero, a legend. After she made sure the children had fallen asleep, and her chambermaids were off to dreamland as well, she sat at her desk.

  Reyhan looked out the window. A crescent moon and a lone star serenading it were the only sources of illumination in heaven. The scene reminded her of Arash and his bow.

  Entry by Reyhan:

  I have found a joy in writing that is indescribable. My tears are shed through the ink that colors the pages of my journal, and my laughter echoes in its words. The journal has become an old friend to me, one that listens to my pains and shares my grief. By returning to my earlier writings, I find myself listening to its side of the story; so by no means would I call this a one-sided communication. It is my sincere hope that one day when I am no longer in this world, a woman in a similar circumstance as I would continue to fill the pages of these chronicles.

  Today Baako bore the sad news of the Jackal’s death. Although I always thought such an end for him as inevitable, the news of his death saddens me. He had refused to aid the Mongols. His untamable spirit could not bear the responsibilities of governorship. He was a born lawbreaker, not one to enforce the law. He saw regulations as something to be laughed at. Standing before crowds to be revered and respected did not appeal to him. He despised politicians and considered some his rivals in thievery. He would never become a stooge of the Mongols.

  He had managed to put together enough forces to instigate a rebellion against the invaders. The rebellion was brutally crushed when a member of the Mongol court died in battle. The Mongols carried out a revenge attack, the Jackal being among those who perished. They buried him in the dark in an unmarked grave, fearing that his enemies may show no mercy even to his lifeless body. His memory, however, stays vivid in the minds of those he so gallantly saved.

  I must add that the king’s mother, Turkan Khatun, is now a servant of a Mongol officer. Even if one knew her in her past life, it would be impossible for one to recognize her altered face now. Hardship and age have left their marks on her face. I have also learned about the fate of the Khwarazm King, my grandfather’s foe. The Shah chose an island in the Caspian Sea as his final refuge. Alone, desperate and sick, with only one servant as his companion, void of all the luxuries he once enjoyed, he soon perished; his only legacy being a ruined civilization.

  As the waters of the Caspian lapped the shores in their eternal rhythm to rid the sea of the unwanted, the body of the former monarch of Persia was finally carried to its shores wearing the ragged shirt of his servant.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Lion Cubs Come of Age

  1233 C.E.

  Reyhan watch
ed as Sorkhokhtani’s boys grew up into adolescents who saw life as a treat served upon a golden platter. They woke each morning, ready to embrace the adventures of the day. The thrill of youth mixed with the excitement of power and glory pumped new energy into their veins as they entered the prime of life, ready to experience a future yet unknown. They would be the future conquerors of the world, their lives a far cry from the horrors that their grandfather endured as a young lad.

  Mongke had grown to be wise and mature, Kublai remained a gentle soul, and Ariq Boke still charmed everyone with his sweet smile. But Hulagu, at fifteen, had grown to be quite different from the vibrant child he had been. At the onset of puberty, Hulagu began to display characteristics that resembled those of his ancestors. He showed little tolerance toward those who vexed him and appeared more aloof.

  At times, Reyhan felt that behind a thin veneer of calm, anger boiled within the boy’s body. He certainly had inherited his grandfather’s fury. She often wondered what would become of him when he grew older, or what would become of the world when he became a powerful chieftain.

  Sorkhokhtani’s boys spent most of their days training for the battlefield or participating in hunting trips and chasing gazelles to enhance their physical capabilities and alertness; they would put these skills to use when they joined the Mongol cavalry. Their conflicts at times turned into fist fights. Reyhan continued to advise the use of self-restraint, but they refused to listen.

  “Humans are malleable beings,” Reyhan would say, “they will cooperate with you and join your mission if you give them a chance. Destruction and killing, on the other hand, could leave a population with long-lasting feelings of malice.” Her words, effective at times, were as if spoken into the wind at others, for they paid no heed to what they considered Reyhan’s constant “moral sermons.”

  On one occasion when Sorkhokhtani’s husband, Tolui, had come to bid the family farewell before leaving for the fronts, Reyhan informed him that Hulagu and his cousin, Guyuk, had gotten into a fight in the middle of a game of knucklebones.

  “If I am ever given command of the army,” Guyuk said, “I will crush the Persians and put an end, once and for all, to the civilization they are still so boastful of. It would be such a treat to see that miserable Reyhan’s face when I accomplish my task.”

  “Do not speak of Reyhan in such language or I swear to the Mighty Sky that I will put an end to your miserable life,” Hulagu snapped. He pounced on Guyuk like a leopard, punching his cousin hard in the nose, causing it to bleed. Tolui intervened and separated the boys. Hulagu turned to Guyuk saying, “Next time you make a remark like that, I will break your neck.”

  “I was just jesting,” Guyuk said.

  “Well I do not appreciate your humor,” Hulagu replied, furiously.

  Tolui advised them to show respect toward one another and then told them of his plans to go to the fronts. In speaking to Reyhan after the incident, Tolui said, “Hulagu is a true grandson of Genghis. He resembles my father in appearance and has taken after him in his ambitions to rule. He seems to have little control over his temper, but I am hoping he will become more understanding as he matures.”

  Reyhan was at a loss for words, but when Tolui was about to leave, she tried to reassure him with a smile. As the first-born son of Ogodei, Guyuk was groomed by his mother, Toregene, to become the next Khaqan after his father’s death, although Ogodei did not favor him.

  “I have no doubt Hulagu will change as he matures,” she said. “I am not so sure about Guyuk.”

  Tolui nodded his consent.

  “He did it intentionally, Baako, intentionally, with joy sparkling in his eyes,” Princess Reyhan said, standing there pale and trembling, tears flowing uncontrollably from her eyes. This was the latest incident, but by no means the first of its kind. Hulagu had just suffocated the newborn lamb Reyhan had given him as a present for his success in completing a course in Persian language.

  “Now, now, my lady,” Baako spoke gently kneeling by her side, “you have tried to raise a lion cub like a house cat. He is a born hunter, a Mongol, and you cannot change that.”

  Reyhan looked at Baako through a lace of tears that covered her eyes. Helpless and marginalized in the Mongol court, she felt as if her sense of pride and emotional strength were being drained with every passing day.

  When she had first seen Hulagu and his brothers, she had taken them under her wings, nurtured them and tried to bestow upon them knowledge, expose them to the culture and art of the kingdoms their father and grandfather raided.

  “I have tried,” she said, “the Almighty knows I have tried to raise him properly, but all my efforts seem to have been in vain. I am afraid that Holagu is bound to turn into an irascible monster just like his grandfather.”

  On the final word of her lament, the sound of thunder quieted her. It tore through the heavens as lightning marred the face of the sky. It randomly targeted winter-dead branches like fiery arrows cast by heaven, permanently charring parts of the landscape. A magnificent downpour ensued. It was as if the skies sympathized with Reyhan and shed tears as well. From the land of nightingales and roses, she had been dragged to where the sound of thunder, or the occasional cries of wolves, shattered the dead silence of the skies.

  “I think Hulagu is not as cruel as he appears. It is part of their culture, you see, that considers cruelty as a sign of manliness and strength of character,” Baako tried to explain. “He enjoys the approval of others, the fact that the Mongol society admires him means a lot to this young man.”

  “I don’t know if he wants to show off his manliness or he is downright vicious,” Reyhan said. “I do not despise him, Baako. How can I? He is like a son to me. But how can I love him when he is just as brutal as the others. Mercy has no place in his heart. Love is just a word he toys with when he is around handsome damsels. He certainly has inherited his grandfather’s world-conquering ambitions and thirst for glory.”

  “It saddens me to see you so distraught, my lady,” Baako said, addressing his crestfallen matron. He looked out the window as if thankful for not laboring outdoors at that hour. Fear of thunderstorms, so prevalent among the Mongols, seemed to have affected Baako as well.

  “Hulagu’s heart never forgives other people’s faults and shortcomings,” Baako added. “While yours, like the ever-flowing river that stumbles over stones strewn upon its path, carries on pristine, without grudges and thoughts of revenge.”

  He urged Princess Reyhan to drink the hot, aromatic brew he had made, a concoction of starflower tea with chunks of sugar crystals. The soul-soothing remedy pacified her for a bit.

  “My lady, you need not bother yourself about Hulagu so much now. He is almost old enough to join the ranks of the military,” Baako said. When she was more composed he added, “Hunting games will commence tomorrow, and it is Arik Boke and Hulagu’s turn to prove their status as worthy young warriors.”

  “That is all they think about, Baako, is it not? How to be better warriors,” Reyhan said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fistfuls of Dust

  As preparations got underway for the games, even the animals were excited, as if they could sense the exhilaration in the air. Hulagu and Ariq Boke could hardly breathe. Kublai had no interest in participating, and Mongke, already a seasoned hunter had left to join the Mongol army. No weapons were to be utilized; the hunters had to use their bare hands to trap the beasts.

  During the hunt, the participants formed a large ring around a portion of the grassland, leaving most of the beasts—the wild sheep, musk deer, boars, and saiga antelopes as well as smaller animals like hares and corsac foxes—within the circle as they closed ranks to ensure none of them escaped. Then they began to move toward the center of the field, making their circle smaller and smaller and the animals more and more agitated and nervous.

  Participating in their first hunt, Hulagu and Ariq Boke each had to ta
ckle a deer. Ariq Boke looked like a coward for he obviously could not bring himself to kill the poor animal staring innocently at him. Hulagu, however, stunned the crowd by smashing the deer’s head against a large boulder. He raised the dead animal with both hands above his head to the loud cheer of the other hunters. Reyhan gasped at the spectacle and wondered what else this young man was capable of. It surprised her to find Kublai in a cheerful mood, happy about his brother’s success.

  “Your efforts have not been in vain,” Baako later told Reyhan, “Kublai is displaying the qualities of a great leader. He takes pride in the accomplishments of his brothers rather than trying to achieve everything for himself.”

  “I have no doubt he will be a just monarch,” Reyhan replied.

  Baako was right. Kublai had grown to be wise beyond his age, well-read, and fluent in the Chinese language and philosophy. He displayed a mild temperament and was very much fond of a young girl named Chabi whom he intended to marry. He was thoughtful and spoke only after pondering the meaning of what he intended to say.

  Kublai often mentioned that he tried to see beyond the spoken words and focus on the speakers’ deeds. Therefore, his judgments regarding people were more accurate, and he surpassed his brothers when it came to taking the right stance and making the right decision. He took the most pragmatic path when encountering troublesome situations. He sought the advice of the learned scholars and utilized their expertise. He mentioned more than once that the welfare of his future subjects mattered to him, and he intended to be benevolent toward them. Hulagu, on the other hand, always interpreted Reyhan’s words to suit his own way of thinking.

  All four sons of Tolui shared their grandfather’s ambitions to conquer the world. Kublai wanted to leave a good legacy behind; he cared for the populations that lived under Mongol rule and wanted to set an example of proper management in China. That part of the world fascinated Kublai. Hulagu, however, had other ideas.