Ruler of the Sky: A Novel of Genghis Khan

by Pamela Sargent

  “I don't want to fish,” Khasar said when she was gone. “When I'm a man, I'll hunt, and herd horses and cattle, and go to war, but I'll never fish or gather plants again.”

  “We'll fish today,” Temujin said. “It's easier work than hunting.”

  “I don't want to be anywhere near Bekter and Belgutei.”

  Temujin finished his food and stood up. His eyes had a distant look, as if his mind were elsewhere. “I told you Bekter wouldn't trouble us again. Get your hook, Khasar—we'll see what we can catch.”

  Sochigil's sons sat on the river-bank; several gutted fish were drying on the rocks next to them. Belgutei was cleaning another fish while Bekter examined the horsehair net; the older boy looked up as Temujin and Khasar approached.

  “We need bait,” Temujin said.

  “Take what you want,” Belgutei replied. Bekter scowled at his brother. “Well, we don't need it with the net.”

  Khasar scooped up some of the offal from the catch, then followed Temujin upriver. They had brought one of their mother's buckets with them, made from bark and sealed with clay, to hold their catch.

  Khasar sat down, baited his hook, and tossed his line into the river. “Bekter isn't happy with Belgutei for giving us bait.” He slipped his line around his fingers as Temujin dropped his own into the water. “I don't know why we're here. Mother will see we get a share of what they caught, and we don't want to take too many from one spot.”

  Temujin shrugged. Maybe he was still hurting from Bekter's assault, and did not feel up to hunting, although he would be too proud to admit it.

  Sunlight danced on the water as it flowed towards the open land. The net would trap more fish, but Khasar did not mind using a hook instead. Either he or Temujin would have had to wade across the river to hold the net from the other side, then wade back to secure their catch, and the Onon was deeper in spring. Khasar hated being in water; getting drenched if he tripped was even worse.

  His line suddenly jumped. He gripped it tightly as he stood up. A large silvery fish struggled on the hook. Temujin took the line from him; Khasar grabbed the bucket, filled it with water, then reached for his line. The fish's gills fluttered as he removed the hook and dropped his catch into the bucket.

  “You did well,” Temujin said.

  “It's a beauty. Bekter didn't catch any this big.” Khasar peered down the river. The other two boys were staring at them; they had not yet put the net back into the water. Bekter stood up, motioned to Belgutei, then started towards them. “We may have trouble,” Khasar added.

  “Ignore them.”

  Khasar was baiting his hook when a shadow fell across him. “I see you caught something,” Bekter said.

  “Just one fish so far.”

  “That fish belongs to us.”

  Khasar let his line fall. “You didn't catch it.”

  “The bait was ours, and we'd have caught it with the net if you hadn't been here.”

  Khasar got up slowly. Temujin hooked his hands around his belt. “You'll catch enough with the net,” Temujin said. “Our hooks won't rob you of that many.”

  “But I want that one. What are you going to do—go whining to your mother about it?”

  Khasar could bear no more. He lunged at Bekter. A fist struck him on the still-tender spot above his ear; another punch caught him in the abdomen. He doubled over, his head swimming.

  “Let them have the fish,” Belgutei said.

  “Shut your mouth. I want it, and they're going to learn to give me what I want.”

  Khasar swayed dizzily, wondering why Temujin had not defended him. “Listen to me, Bekter,” Temujin said in his soft voice. “This is the last time I'll warn you. You'd better swear to stop stealing and sneaking around and fighting me. If you take that fish, Tengri alone knows what will happen to you.”

  Khasar shivered at the cold tone in Temujin's voice. Belgutei touched Bekter's sleeve, looking fearful himself; his brother pushed him away. “Temujin fights with words now,” Bekter said mockingly. “Take the bucket, Belgutei.”

  The younger boy hesitated, then picked up the bucket. Khasar raised his fists, ready to fight them by himself. Temujin grabbed him by the arm, holding him back.

  “I see you're learning,” Bekter said. “I'll take what I please and you'll do as I say, or you'll get another beating like the one I gave you before.”

  Khasar struggled to free himself from his brother's iron grip. Belgutei retreated with the bucket. Bekter turned to follow the other boy, then looked back. “Woman,” he muttered. “Catamite.”

  Khasar knew the word was a deadly insult. Temujin was pale, his cat's eyes filled with rage and hatred.

  Khasar shook himself loose. “Don't go after them,” Temujin said in a low voice.

  “Are you going to take that?” Khasar gripped the knife under his belt. “He deserves to die for what he said.”

  “I told you. This will end—I promise it.”

  “Words and threats won't stop him.”

  Temujin lifted his head. “I said this would end.” His voice, oddly gentle as it was, chilled Khasar; his brother's greenish-brown eyes were as hard as gemstones. “You'll help me put a stop to it.”

  His brother's eyes terrified him; a demon in a nightmare might have such eyes. He knew then that he would have to obey, whatever he was asked to do. If Temujin ever turned against me, Khasar thought, Heaven couldn't protect me.

  “Get your line,” Temujin said, “and come with me.”

  They waited inside the yurt until the women returned. Hoelun set down her basket of roots, stared into Temujin's grim face without speaking, then sent Sochigil outside with Temulun.

  She sat down in front of them. “You two have something to tell me.”

  “We caught a fine fish,” Temujin said. “Bekter and Belgutei took it away from us.”

  “So instead of catching another,” Hoelun said, “you come back empty-handed.”

  “Yesterday, it was a lark Khasar brought down, and today it was a fish. Mother, this must end.”

  “Yes, it must.” She leaned forward. “Don't I have enough worries? Who's left to fight with us now? Only our own shadows. What whips do our horses have? Only their own tails. How can you ever face our enemies if you can't make an ally of your brother? Must I keep telling you what Alan Ghoa told her sons when they fought?”

  “If they'd had a brother like Bekter,” Khasar said, “they'd never have stopped fighting.”

  “I won't listen to this,” Hoelun said. “Temujin, you were able to make a friend of a stranger. Surely you can find a way to make peace with Bekter.”

  “There can be no peace with him,” Temujin said.

  “If you can't deal with him, you'll never be a chieftain.” Hoelun reached for a root and scraped at it with her knife. “Never forget that your father's brother abandoned us. He might not have done so if your father had done more to ensure his loyalty, and the Taychiut chiefs might have given in to Daritai if he had vowed to support you.” She finished cleaning the root and took out another. “Your father was a fine man, and I'll never stop mourning for him, yet he failed to keep a strong bond with the Odchigin. It isn't surprising that others would desert us when they saw that your father's own brother wouldn't defend us.”

  Temujin said, “Then you'll do nothing.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Beat him every time you complain about him? He's getting too strong to take that from me. I've done what I can—I can't control him any more—and his own mother's useless for that. You have to find a way to live with him.”

  “There's no living with him!” Khasar burst out.

  “He's your brother! Let him have his way for now. He'll grow bored if you don't fight back, and maybe then he'll leave you alone.”

  “You're wrong, Mother,” Temujin responded. “He'll think I'm weak and unable to stand up to him.”

  “A man, so I've been told, knows when fighting can gain nothing and it's time to retreat. Behave like a man now.”


  “Then I must settle this matter myself.”

  “Yes.” Hoelun worked at her root. Temujin stared at her for a long time, then got up and left. Khasar scrambled to his feet and followed. Temujin strode past Sochigil and disappeared among the trees; Khasar hurried after him.

  He caught up with his brother as they neared the edge of the forest. “What are you going to do now?” Khasar asked.

  Temujin leaned against a tree, then turned to him; his eyes glittered. Without thinking, Khasar made a sign against evil.

  “You've said what must be done yourself,” Temujin whispered. “Just now, inside our tent, you said there's no living with him. Before that, by the river, you told me he deserved to die.”

  Khasar shuddered, his heart racing with fear. He suddenly wanted to call back those words.

  “You have to help me,” Temujin said. “He's your enemy as much as mine. I can't risk doing it alone.”

  Khasar could not speak.

  “I gave him one last chance,” Temujin said. “Mother's left the matter in my hands. It has to be this way, Khasar—it won't stop as long as both of us are alive.”

  Khasar struggled against the thought. It would be over; he had to think of it that way. There would be no more stealing, no bullying, no evil insults thrown at his brother, no fear that Bekter might shame him by discovering his secret.

  He listened as Temujin began to speak of what they would do, knowing he would have to agree to it.

  29

  Khasar squatted near a tree; Temujin peered out from behind a shrub. Bekter sat on a small knoll amid the grass, watching the horses, his bowcase at his side. He glanced over his left shoulder at the woods; Khasar kept still.

  They had waited for three days to catch Bekter alone. Belgutei had gone off to hunt birds that morning, taking Temuge with him. Temujin had been smiling when the two boys left the yurt.

  Temujin hunkered down. Gripping his bow and two arrows, he began to creep towards the knoll; he would approach Bekter from the back. Khasar's task was more difficult; he had to sneak up from the front, and Bekter might spot him from the tiny hill. Temujin could still take the boy from behind, but Bekter might have time to shoot at Khasar.

  He would have to make sure he was not seen. Temujin would not have given him the riskier part of this task unless he had faith in his skill.

  Khasar left his quiver and bowcase by the tree; he would take just one arrow. If his first shot failed, he was not likely to get a second. But it would not fail; he had hit harder targets than this. Stalking Bekter was much like hunting anything else.

  He crawled slowly into the high grass. A breeze stirred the blades, making it less likely that his movements would be seen. Temujin had been patient awaiting his chance, while Khasar had been anxious for the deed to be done. The strain of waiting, once they had made their plans, had been almost too much for him, but his older brother had remained calm. Temujin had lulled Bekter into thinking he was finally cowed, refusing to rise to his taunts.

  The waiting would soon be over. Bekter was only game after all, to be tracked, caught unaware, and then taken.

  Sweat trickled down his neck and into his eyes; he blinked it away. His muscles tensed as he crept nearer to the knoll. Bekter was gazing to his right, scanning the horizon. Khasar's hand tightened around his bow as he readied his arrow. Temujin was probably in position, but he waited a few more moments to be sure.

  “He won't stop,” Temujin had said while they were laying their plans. “He thinks I'm beaten, but that isn't enough for him—he'll put me out of the way if I give him the chance.”

  Khasar took a breath, surprised at how calm he was. He could trust his aim; this would not be so hard.

  He jumped to his feet and drew his bow; the string was taut in his fingers as he aimed. Bekter lunged towards his bowcase.

  “Don't touch your weapon,” Temujin called out, “or you'll die now.” Bekter looked behind himself; Temujin stood up in the grass with his bow. “I want to hear your last words.”

  Bekter got up slowly, keeping his arms out; if he was afraid, he did not show it. “What's this?” Bekter said, keeping his eyes on Khasar. “What do you think you're doing?”

  “Ridding myself of a cinder in my eye,” Temujin answered. “Spitting out a splinter of bone that makes me choke.”

  “Haven't you got enough enemies? Being free of me won't help you against them.”

  “It will rid me of one stone on my trail.”

  Bekter's hands shook. “Whatever you do to me,” he shouted, “don't kill my brother Belgutei, too.”

  Khasar lowered his bow, suddenly uncertain. He had not expected Bekter to plead for his brother.

  “But you won't shoot,” Bekter continued. “How foolish of me to be frightened by you two.” He sat down and crossed his legs; Khasar could see the contempt on his face. “Temujin's just a snake who steals up on his prey from behind. And you, Khasar—you're only the dog that does his bidding. I know what he is, what he does, and maybe you're the same. Do you think you can hide the truth?”

  Khasar shook with rage. Bekter's hand darted towards his own weapon. Khasar aimed and felt the sudden release of tension in his bow as his arrow sped towards his target. The shaft jutted from Bekter's chest as Temujin's arrow flew towards his back. Bekter's mouth opened; a look of surprise crossed his face. A dark liquid spurted from his lips as he slowly toppled to one side.

  Khasar's feet seemed rooted to the ground. Then he was running towards the small hill, his heart pounding. He kept expecting Bekter to move, to sit up and pluck the arrows from himself.

  Temujin climbed up and stood by the body. Khasar looked down. Bekter's dark eyes were still open, staring up at him. The horses lifted their heads, scenting death. Khasar trembled, terrified of what he had done.

  “You did well, Khasar.” Temujin's fingers dug into his shoulder. “We killed our first enemy together.” He released Khasar, knelt, and pulled the arrows from the corpse, then smeared some blood on Khasar's hand. “Never forget what we did today.”

  They stripped the body, left it on the hill, and herded the horses back to the forest. Temujin was silent. Khasar could not tell if his brother was rejoicing over his deed or already regretted it.

  Bekter was dead. A wild feeling that might be either triumph or terror swept over him. Bekter would never steal, taunt, or beat anyone again; Khasar no longer had to fear him. His arrow and his brother's had put an end to their tormentor. How simple it all was after all.

  When the horses were inside the enclosure, Temujin picked up the clothes and weapons they had taken from the body. Khasar followed his brother towards their tents, his mouth dry. Somehow, he had assumed that Temujin would find a way to hide their deed. Mother will know, he thought wildly; she'll know what we did as soon as she sees us.

  Khachigun was outside, sharpening his spear. Temujin motioned to him. “Go to the clearing,” he said, “and guard the horses. I'll relieve you in a little while.”

  “But—”

  “Go.”

  Khachigun's eyes widened as he gazed into Temujin's face; he jumped to his feet and hurried away.

  They went inside. Sochigil sat on her bed, mending a shirt; Hoelun was picking lice from Temulun's braided hair. “Did you find game so soon?” she asked without looking up.

  “We hunted other game today,” Temujin said, “and brought it down. We came back with the horses—Khachigun's watching them.” He threw the bundle to the ground.

  He had admitted it. Khasar held his breath. Hoelun stared at both of them, then jumped to her feet. “I see what you've done!” She made a sign. “What evil spirit brought you to this?”

  “This had to be settled,” Temujin said. “I put an end to it.”

  “Murderers!” Hoelun shouted. “Murderers, both of you!” Sochigil dropped her sewing, looking bewildered. “How could you do it? How could my womb give birth to such sons? How much evil have you done today? Did you strike only at Bekter, or have you robbed poor Sochigil o
f both her sons?”

  Sochigil screamed, tore at her scarf, then flung herself across the bed, clawing at the cushions. Temulun covered her face with her hands. “I curse you!” Hoelun shrieked.

  “I did only what I had to do,” Temujin said in his quiet voice. “I'm rid of my tormentor, and Sochigil-eke has one son left.”

  Hoelun struck Temujin on the side of his head. “Murderer! You came from my womb with a clot of blood in your hand, and now you've darkened the earth with your brother's blood!” She hit him again; he staggered under her blows, but continued to stare at her with his icy gaze.

  “And you!” She came at Khasar and slapped him hard across the face; he stumbled back. “You're like the savage Khasar dogs that gave you your name! You're animals, both of you, seizing prey without thinking, snapping at your own shadows—you're no better than a bird that eats its own chicks, or a jackal that fights any creature who comes near! May I be cursed for giving birth to you!”

  Her fists drummed against Khasar's head until his ears rang. He struggled towards the doorway, wanting only to escape her. She grabbed him by the collar, threw him to the ground, kicked him in the ribs, then rounded on Temujin. “You led your brother into this evil—I know you! You made him your accomplice! Murderer!” She raised her arm; Temujin caught her by the wrist.

  “No, Mother,” he said. “You won't beat me any more.”

  Hoelun's eyes widened. Khasar waited for her to start shouting again, but she was silent; she even seemed afraid. Temulun's wail rose above Sochigil's hoarse sobs.

  Temujin let go of their mother's arm; she watched him without moving. “It's over,” Temujin said, then turned and went outside. Khasar fled after him.

  They sent Khachigun back to the dwelling. Temujin paced, circling the clearing before he sat down next to Khasar. The horses milled around, nipping at one another until the forest began to darken.

  Khasar put some fuel on the fire, then rested his back against a tree. He had done what Temujin said they must do. Once he had started to crawl through the grass, it had been too late to turn back.