by Barry Sadler
From there he would take command again of the main body and leapfrog farther into the canyon, where he hoped that Casca had all in readiness for them. By that time Ong Khan would be hot on their ass and time would have run out.
Once Chagatai had gone on ahead, Temujin gave his orders. His men were to be formed in eight ranks of one hundred each, each rank fifty paces behind the one in front. The balance of the warriors were to dismount and take to the sides of the gorge, forming the right and left flanks, with his cavalry at the center. Their orders were to kill the horses first, the men second. At this time a dead horse was the same as a dead man, and they were much easier to hit.
Some of his Noyans started to object. They should have known better. He killed one himself, and had the other reduced to a common soldier. It was not for them to question him in times of stress. They must obey. There are circumstances where one simply does not have the time to explain his reasons. They must obey and believe. If they did not understand, then they would have to die. If just one of the men to whom he explained his plans was taken prisoner and talked, then all would be lost.
Ong Khan was pushing his men as hard as he could. He knew they were close to Temujin. He cursed himself for the stupidity of allowing his warriors to loot Temujin's abandoned camp instead of listening to Jemuga, who urged him to move on after Temujin. It had cost him time. All this night he had ridden hard. His men's spirits revived only after he had three of them decapitated. "Keep your dogs hungry and afraid" was his theory.
Normally he would have preferred to have rested his men and animals, but this was not his land. And if he halted, Temujin and his men might escape. If they did, he had no doubt that they would come again, stronger and more dangerous than ever.
Now he had the odds on his side. Five, perhaps six to one. This was his only chance to destroy the growing might of Temujin. If he lost, then he felt deep in his bones that his life and all that he owned would soon fly from his grasp into the hands of the young Mongol chieftain.
The more he thought of it, the more he knew his sons had been right. It was naturally Jemuga who told them of Temujin and his ambitions. He didn't like Jemuga, but he had been useful and he was correct about Temujin, of that he was certain. It was only a matter of time before he would lose everything to Temujin's growing might and popularity. That he could not let happen.
To have a pup take away what was his by right of birth and conquest was too great an indignity to bear. There was nothing personal in it. He liked Temujin. But this was a thing of power and respect, neither of which he would lightly give up to another without a fight. He knew the stories of Temujin's birth and that many people believed in them, even some among his own tribe. That he could not tolerate. If Temujin had been just another gifted leader, he could have dealt with that. But to place himself as a mystic leader... never!
He wasn't far wrong. Temujin liked the old war-horse greatly. Ong Khan had honored him many times, but his thinking was wrong. He was high on Temujin's list of people to be replaced. If Ong Khan had not moved against him, eventually he would have taken over the old man's tribes and power for his own.
Now it seemed that perhaps the day had pushed ahead when he would have his confrontation with Ong Khan. That he could fail never entered his mind. A setback was the worst that could happen, but that only delayed the inevitable. He would triumph. It was promised to him.
And now, if he won this day, not only would he have the indescribable pleasure of having Jemuga in his hands, but he would become the greatest of all the powers of the Mongol tribes, and he would gather to him all that had been Ong Khan's: his warriors, his wealth, and his power. All would be his, and then he would be ready to make the first of his moves on the outside world.
The sun had pushed back the shadows that lay in the heart of the gorge. Casca was ready. From his position on the edge of the granite ridge, he looked back down the gorge. Soon Temujin would come – if he was able to.
Even now they might be in desperate battle against the superior forces of Ong Khan. Casca hoped that Temujin would be able to orchestrate the battle properly. A fighting withdrawal is the ultimate test of a great leader. To attack was easy; to control panic and keep discipline among your warriors when they were faced with greater numbers by a brave and vicious foe was something else.
It required great skill and strength of personality, to enforce your will on thousands of men who logically knew their life expectancy would be greatly increased if they just broke and ran. At least that's what they would think at the moment. The truth of the matter was they would be hunted down like wild animals and, like animals, be slaughtered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Casca could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. Temujin had engaged Ong Khan. His men were resting but they, too, heard the sounds that came on the breeze. At this distance the screams and cries of the dying and wounded were softened by the miles, but still they reached them, echoing through the canyon walls.
Subetei came to him, his face serious but not frightened. He was concerned, not for his own sake but for that of his master. "What do you think is happening?"
Peering down the gorge toward the unseen battle, Casca mumbled, "Just one of two things can be happening. Either we're winning or we're losing. The only good thing, if it could be called good, is that if Temujin falls, then perhaps Ong Khan will be content with that and call off the battle. If I were he, I wouldn't waste my time looking for us. Without Temujin he knows that our forces will fall apart soon enough. Then he can hunt us down at his leisure and with little risk."
Here, at the ambush site, it was exactly as Temujin had told him. The trail widened out to a small glade, where as many as a hundred or more men on horseback could stand shoulder to shoulder. This glade stretched back for a distance of three hundred meters toward the entrance to the canyon, the direction from which Ong Khan would have to come.
At the end that led to the springs, the glen bottlenecked down to where no more than fifty men could pass at any given time. The stream, which was no more than knee-deep on a man, ran swift and white. On either side of it, pines and poplars mixed company to provide shelter.
A pleasant scene. Tranquil now, but it was a transitory calm that would soon pass as men filled this narrow space and the dying began.
Casca made one more trip down to the bottom of the gorge. From there he inspected the position of the Merkits. Several groups had to be ordered farther back over the ridge or behind patches of trees. He wanted no head to show, no glint of bared steel to reflect the day's light. All here would have to be unseen and silent.
He had ordered Subetei to tell all that the first man who uttered a sound or moved without an order was to die at that instant. None would move on their own. They had to wait for the right second. And only Casca would give that order. Till then they would have to remain in hiding, and most of them would not even be able to see the fighting beneath them. They would only hear. He knew it would be hard for these wild men of the steppes to obey, but Temujin had performed wonders in instilling in them a discipline that even Rome at its best had seldom matched.
Sometimes it was even harder for him than for the common warrior who faced death. He faced not death but continuance. He couldn't remember the number of times he had received what should have been his death blow. These men at least had a beginning and an end to their existence. He had... what? Another century, another thousand years of waiting? It had been so long. He wished that for one last time he could go into battle knowing that he might not survive it. He could be hurt, and he had been so many times that death would be a blessing – and an end to the nights of terrible dreams and memories, faces that rushed upon him every time he closed his eyes, the tens of thousands of screams from the dead and dying that echoed in the dark chambers of his memory. If he had to be cursed, why could he not have been given the blessing of forgetfulness? Then this existence might be a bit more bearable. To recall endlessly the past was the worst of his living.
The first two attacks by Ong Khan had failed. His men had held them. He had used his cavalry as Casca had told him the Romans used infantry: each line supporting the one in front; the first two ranks with spears leveled, forming a hedgehog of spear points; the ranks behind using their bows to send flight after flight of arrows overhead, seeking soft, warm flesh – whether it was man or horse made no difference to them.
Several times he saw Jemuga in the forefront of the battle. Twice they touched eyes. Smiles of hatred crossed over the field of battle. Each thought this day would end things between them. As always, Jemuga was not afraid to put himself at risk. He rode like a demon. Bow and sword were one with him. He slew many of Temujin's warriors. He had the luck of a djinn. His hide-covered circular shield studded with small round iron plates was filled with arrows. But none touched him. Temujin felt the gods were saving Jemuga for him personally, and he was glad that his enemy survived.
The Merkit archers he had placed on the flanks were slowly being pushed back as their numbers were reduced by counterfire from Ong Khan's own bowmen. But they were serving their purpose here in the confining wall. Ong Khan's horsemen were also crowded in on each other. The ranks behind, eager to get in the fight, pushed against the rear of their comrades bunching them. Any attempt at maneuvering was futile.
Jemuga was filled with frustration. In disgust he left the fight, riding back to Ong Khan. Temujin could see him waving his sword in the direction of the battle and knew he was complaining about the tactics Ong Khan was using.
When Temujin's front rank was reduced or exhausted, he had them fall in an orderly manner through their own ranks. The second line would take up their position in the front, and the rank behind them exchange their bows for lances to keep the Kereits of Ong Khan from breaking through. His bowmen fired as fast as they could. Temujin had given orders for them not to save the shafts. When they ran out was when he planned to break contact and retreat to where Temuge awaited him.
Ong Khan was in a rage. There was no way for him to advance without terrible loss. But he had the men to spare, and he could see Temujin in the front ranks, directing the controlled defense of his men. He cursed his own for being idiots. But he knew that he could still carry the day. Soon Temujin's bowmen would have exhausted their supplies. He had more men than weapons. But he would not play Temujin's game anymore.
Lashing his horse forward, he struck right and left with his sword, ordering his Noyans to force their men back to open a space where they could engage Temujin with their own bowmen. At this point his men were so close and packed together that his bowmen were hitting more of their own men than Temujin's Merkits. At last he forced back enough of the Kereits to the rear ranks to where those engaged could pull back and form a line just inside bow range. From there they could attack with better than equal odds.
His Noyans aided him by slashing and whipping their men to the rear. The space in front of them was covered with dead and wounded, horses' legs kicking in their death throes as they screamed through bloody, blubbery lips.
The Kereit who were not dead suffered mostly in silence, for they knew that the great darkness would be coming to them soon. Few would survive. For when Ong Khan charged next, it would be over their bodies. They felt no anger at their own tribesmen for this. They would have done the same with no regret.
When Ong Khan pulled back, Temujin took advantage of it. It would take the Kereits a few moments to get organized again. He gave the signal for his archers to pull back from the flanks into the rear of the center and mount their horses, which was done with some relief, for they were at the end of their supply of arrows.
At the command Temujin's warriors turned as though on a parade field, and in good order began to pull out. The first three ranks remained where they were, to give Ong Khan the impression that Temujin was going to remain and fight.
Once the trail was clear enough for them to move, they, too, wheeled on command, formed up into columns, and raced away, leaving the field of battle to Ong Khan and his Kereits.
Ong Khan saw Temujin retreat down the canyon. They were breaking and running. Now was the time to finish them. Changing his orders to his Noyans, he ordered the charge. It took three or four minutes before the minds of the Kereits could adapt to the new situation. First it was attack, then it was withdraw and use bows, now it was to attack again.
Jemuga argued with him. "Be careful. Temujin is a treacherous fox. I like not the looks of the place."
Ong Khan mocked him. "You do not like it. Who has asked you what you like? I am the khan of the Kereit, not you. Remember that well, or I may take more than Temujin's head this day, Merkit traitor. You sell out your own tribe because you hate Temujin. I may use you. However, that does not mean that I like or respect you. Now get away from me. Fight or leave – whichever you choose, it matters not."
Jemuga rode away, fuming at the insult. He knew Temujin better than anyone else. There was something that was not right about this fight. He was not doing things in the manner of the Mongol. The tactics were different, and the warriors also conducted themselves differently. Something was not right, and he didn't know what it was. The only thing he was certain of was that Temujin was in this canyon. He was going after him. The deaths of a few thousand Kereit meant nothing to him. All he wanted was Temujin.
Temujin had disappeared around a bend before the first of the Kereits began to move out. Whipping their horses to the front, the rest of the horde followed, eager to be in on the kill. They rode over the bodies of those who had fallen earlier.
Temuge had prepared for this, following the same plan Temujin had used: archers on the flanks; cavalry in the center, formed in ranks, with lancers for the first two ranks and archers behind. The only difference was that he had his men formed in two columns lining the side of the trail. This would allow Temujin's forces to pass through to the rear, and then he would close the gap and await Ong Khan.
Temuge had also been worried about his brother. Temujin took too many risks. It was with relief that he saw him coming down the trail. The first units had already reached him and passed through to the rear. Temujin was the end. When he did come into the lines, Temuge immediately gave the order to begin closing the gap.
Laughing, Temujin greeted his brother. "Ho, Temuge. It is going well. We have bled the dog badly, but still he comes on like a blinded pig. This will be your turn to hold the pig at bay. I will go and see if the Old Young One has all ready." He said this even though he had no doubt that Casca would have done as he should. The Old Young One always did as he should, which was sometimes his worst fault.
As Temujin rode down the gorge, something struck at the edge of his memory. He didn't know it until he passed by. Then it came to him. Calling a halt, he rode back fifty meters, and there it was: a small cleft in the wall of the gorge. It was hard to see, as brush covered most of the entrance. The cleft widened out farther in, a place where men could lie in wait.
This might work very well with what he and Casca had planned. Ordering the rest of his party on ahead, he whipped his horse back to Temuge and gave him his new orders, then rode on to catch up to the main party.
Ong Khan came upon the defenses of Temuge. This time he was in the vanguard and forced his screeching warriors to hold. He would not fall in the same trap a second time. He did as he planned to do at the first battle and drew his men up in lines and ranks from which they showered the Merkits with arrows. This was what should have been done in the first place. A war of attrition he could win.
Temuge did as he was ordered. His men held the line, those in the rear filling up the first ranks as the shafts took their toll. It was not one-sided. Their arrows hit more targets than did those of Ong Khan, simply because
there were more targets. But the price was beginning to be heavy. He could not hold for very long, but then, he was not supposed to. Temujin had told him, "When it looks as if Ong Khan is getting ready to charge, start moving back, one after the other. It will be up to you to come get us. From this moment on, I cannot help you. Do as you see best. But do not waste lives. I will have need of them later."
Temuge did hold until he knew that further resistance was certain death for all, and his brother had said he would need all the men he could get. Ong Khan would not wait much longer. Temuge's warriors were getting tired, and their stock of shafts was low. Sounding the retreat, Temuge's band turned, as Temujin's had earlier raced away down the gorge. This time, though, they paid a price for it. Over two hundred did not make it. Ong Khan was readier this time and in better control. As soon as Temuge moved to the rear, he attacked.
At the cleft in the gorge, Temuge ordered another short defense in just enough time to get five hundred of his men off their horses, into the cleft, and hidden. He went with them, turning command, of the rear party over to Qubulai, a Qiyat who served as his second-in-command. The entrance was then even further covered by brush, so no sign of the passing would be seen. He needn't have worried. As soon as he tried to break contact again, Ong Khan initiated an assault. He and his Kereits had eyes only for the retreating backs of the Merkits.
Casca felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders when he saw the first units of Temujin's force begin to enter the area of the springs. Though near exhaustion, they set about their tasks with an iron will. Other units soon joined them, each finding its place in the plan. At last Temujin rode in with the main party. He wasted no time and began to direct them in their actions.