Bones Of the Hills c-3

by Conn Iggulden

  Instead, Genghis sent him south with Jebe to raze the land in his name. All his generals were warned not to let Arabs too close to them, even those they knew and trusted as interpreters. Genghis left all but a few of his behind the walls of Samarkand, forbidding them from going anywhere near the camp. Arslan would be merciless to any who disobeyed the order and Genghis felt he had secured his people in all ways as he rode north.

  With the laden carts, they made barely thirty miles a day, starting at dawn and riding at walking pace for all the hours of daylight. They left behind the green fields around Samarkand, taking the carts across a shallow fording point of the northern river before crossing into lands of dust and scrub grass, hills and valleys.

  By the fourth day, Genghis was chafing at the pace. He rode up and down the lines of carts, urging the drivers to make their best speed. What had seemed good sense and restraint in Samarkand now ate at his confidence. The Assassins surely knew he was coming. He worried that they would simply abandon their position in the mountains and leave it empty for him to find.

  Tsubodai shared the opinion, though he said nothing, knowing that a good general does not criticise a khan, even to those he trusts. Yet Tsubodai was convinced Genghis had handled it badly. The only thing that might work was a massive strike, surprising the Assassins where they were strongest before they even knew enemies were in the area. This slow-moving caravan of carts was almost exactly the opposite of what Tsubodai wanted. Riding with barely more than blood dust and mare’s milk, he and his men had raced from the mountains to Genghis in twelve days. Now, as the moon waxed and waned for almost a full turn, Tsubodai eyed it with more and more misgiving.

  When they came to the last village he had sacked, Tsubodai was already planning what to do if the Assassins had vanished. This time, Genghis did not stop, though ash-marked figures ducked and scrabbled in the wreckage, searching for anything they might salvage. The Mongol tumans rode past without a thought for those who hid from them.

  The mountains could be seen for days before they reached the foothills. In response to his own nervous energy, Tsubodai gained Genghis’ permission to ride out with the scouts, searching for new information. He found the second village when the carts were still forty miles and more than a day’s ride behind him. It was there that Tsubodai had met the village council and the man he had brought to Genghis.

  No one lived there any longer. Tsubodai’s heart sank as he walked his horse through the gutted shells of homes. It was not the work of his men, and in this dead place there were not even urchins to sift the ruins for food or coins. If Tsubodai had needed any final confirmation of the Assassins’ presence, he found it in the bodies that lay everywhere, gashed and burned where they had fallen. Only flies, birds and wild dogs lived in the village and the buzz and flutter of wings sounded all around him, rising in choking clouds as his horse walked through.

  Genghis came up when Tsubodai’s riders told him the news. He kept the cold face as he rode through to his general, jerking sharply only once when a fly landed on his lips.

  ‘This is a warning,’ Tsubodai said.

  Genghis shrugged.

  ‘A warning or a punishment. Someone saw you talking to the merchant.’ He chuckled at the thought of the man’s oblivious approach with a cart full of gold. His sudden wealth would be worth nothing in that place.

  ‘We could find the same in the village further into hills that he spoke of, his sister’s home.’

  Genghis nodded. He did not care particularly that villages had been destroyed. If the burned houses were meant as a warning, there were few men in the world who could have taken it as lightly as he did. He had seen much worse in his years as khan. That thought reminded Genghis of something his mother used to say when he was a boy and he smiled.

  ‘I was born with a clot of blood in my right hand, Tsubodai. I have always walked with death. If they know me at all, they know that. This destruction is not a warning for me, but for anyone else who might consider dealing with me.’ He frowned to himself then and drummed his fingers on his saddle. ‘It is the sort of thing I might do if I were leaving the area.’

  Tsubodai nodded, knowing the khan did not need to hear his agreement.

  ‘Still, we must push on to see where they hid themselves,’ Genghis said, his mood souring, ‘even if they have abandoned it.’

  Tsubodai merely bowed his head and whistled for the scouts to ride with him into the mountains. The sister’s village was a day’s trek for a fast-moving warrior, perhaps three for the carts. The trails needed to be checked at all points for ambushes and Tsubodai had to resist the urge to race ahead and see if the Assassins had left anyone behind. The mountains were steep beyond that point, with only a narrow path leading the scouts through to the deep valleys and peaks. It was a difficult land to assault and worryingly easy to defend. Even sound was muffled in such a place, swallowed by the steep slopes on either side, so that a horse’s hooves could be heard as echoes, while the rest of the world receded. Tsubodai rode warily, his hand always near his bow and sword.

  Jochi halted his tuman when he heard a warning note from his scout horns. He had ridden hard for more than a month, covering a vast distance into the east, so far that he was convinced the plains of his home lay a thousand miles north. Beyond them the world was endless, unmapped even by Tsubodai.

  Jochi had known his father would send men after him eventually. Part of him had considered turning north before this point, though it would hardly have mattered. All the scouts could track a single rider, never mind the seven thousand who formed his tuman. The trail they left could have been followed by a blind man. If rains had come, their hoofprints would have been washed away, but to Jochi’s frustration, the sky had stayed cold and blue all the way, with barely a wisp of cloud.

  His warriors allowed their ponies to crop the dry grass at their feet as they waited for new orders. Until they came, they were content and relaxed, giving no more thought to the future than a pack of wild dogs. Jochi did not know if they guessed at his internal struggle. At times, he thought they must know. Their eyes seemed aware, but he knew that was probably an illusion. As the khan’s scouts came closer, Jochi summoned his officers, from those who commanded a thousand down to those who led just ten. They had all stood in the palace at Samarkand and taken an oath to honour Ogedai as khan, the words still fresh in their minds. He did not know what they would do.

  More than seven hundred came at his order, walking their mounts apart from those they led. Each had been promoted by Jochi himself, given honour with the trust of other lives in their hands. He felt their questioning gazes on him as he waited for his father’s scouts. His hands shook slightly and he stilled them with a tight grip on his reins.

  The scouts were two young men from Genghis’ own tuman. They wore light deels, made dark and greasy by sweat and constant use. They rode in together and dismounted to bow to Genghis’ general. Jochi sat his horse in stillness, a great calm sweeping over him. He had believed he was prepared for this, but he had not been. Now the moment was finally upon him, he felt his stomach churn.

  ‘Deliver your message,’ Jochi said, looking at the closest man.

  The scout bowed again, still relaxed and easy after a long ride.

  ‘The great khan has moved against the Assassins, general. He has good information as to where they have their stronghold. You are free once more to subdue the cities and widen the lands under his control.’

  ‘You have ridden far today,’ Jochi said. ‘You are welcome in my camp and you must stay to eat and rest.’

  The scouts exchanged a quick glance before the first one replied.

  ‘My lord, we are not tired. We can ride again.’

  ‘I will not hear of it,’ Jochi snapped. ‘Stay Eat. I will speak to you again at sunset.’

  It was a clear order and the scouts could only obey. Both men dipped their heads before remounting and trotting to the bulk of the tuman away from the gathering of officers. Rough cooking fires were al
ready alight there and they were made welcome by those who cared for the freshest news.

  Jochi raised his hand for his officers to follow him, angling his mount down a hill away from his warriors. A river ran along the bottom, shaded in old and twisted trees that overhung the water. Jochi dismounted and let his horse drink before reaching down and taking mouthfuls of the water in his cupped hands.

  ‘Sit with me,’ he said softly.

  His men did not understand, but they tied their horses to the trees and gathered around him on the dusty ground until half the slope was filled with them. The rest of the tuman could be seen in the distance, too far to hear his words. Jochi swallowed nervously, his throat dry despite the water he had drunk. He knew the name of each of the senior men in that clearing by the river. They had ridden with him against the Arab horses, the shah’s army, cities and garrisons all. They had come to his aid when he was lost and alone amidst his brother’s warriors. They were bound to him with more than oaths, but he did not know if it would be enough. He took a deep breath.

  ‘I am not going back,’ he said.

  To a man, the officers became still, some of them freezing in the act of chewing on meat or reaching for a skin of airag from their saddlebags.

  For Jochi, saying the words was like a dam breaking. He sucked air in again as if he had been running. He could feel his heart pounding and his throat was tight.

  ‘This is not a new decision. I have thought this day might come for years, ever since I fought the tiger and we began our journey to these lands. I have been loyal to my father, the khan, in every action. I have given him my life’s blood and those of the men who followed me. I have given him enough.’

  He looked around at the silent faces of his officers, judging how they received his words.

  ‘I will turn north after this. I have no desire to cross into the southern Chin lands, or go anywhere near Xi Xia in the east. I will see home again and be refreshed in streams that have given us life for ten thousand years. Then I will ride so far and fast that even my father’s hunting dogs will never find me. There are hundreds of lands still unknown to us. I saw some of them with general Tsubodai. I know him well and even he will not be able to find me. I will ride until the end of the world and make a home there, a kingdom of my own. There will be no tracks where I go. By the time my father even knows I am not returning, I will be lost to him.’

  He could see the whites of the eyes in many of his men as they listened, stunned.

  ‘I will not order you to stay with me,’ he said. ‘I cannot. I have no family in the gers, while many of you have wives and children you would not see again. I make no demands on you, who are bound by oath to my father and Ogedai. You will be oath-breakers if you ride at my side and there will be no return to the nation, no truce with my father. He will send hunters and they will search for many years for us. He will not show mercy. I am his son and I know this better than anyone.’

  As he spoke, his fingers ruffled the stiff hair of the tiger skin at his pommel, feeling the rough edge where Genghis had hacked the head away. He saw one of his Chin minghaan officers rising slowly to his feet and Jochi paused to hear him.

  ‘My lord… general,’ the man said, his voice breaking under immense strain. ‘Why do you consider this thing?’

  Jochi smiled, though bitterness flooded through him.

  ‘Because I am my father’s son, Sen Tu. He made his tribe by drawing in all those around him. Shall I do less? Should I follow Ogedai too until I am old and my life is just regrets? I say to you now, it isn’t in me. My little brother will be khan to the nation. He will not search for me when the time comes. Until then, I will find my wives and sons and daughters in a place where they have not heard the name of Genghis.’

  He swept his gaze across the gathering of men on the river bank. They met his eyes without flinching, though some of them sat as if they had been struck.

  ‘I will be my own man, perhaps for just a few years until I am run down and killed. Who can say how this will end? Yet for a time, I will be able to say that I am free. That is why I stand in this place.’

  The Chin officer sat down slowly and thoughtfully. Jochi waited. His officers had adopted the cold face to a man, hiding their thoughts from those around him. There would be no rabble-rousing by the river. Each would make the decision alone, as he had.

  Sen Tu spoke up again, suddenly.

  ‘You will have to kill the scouts, general.’

  Jochi nodded. Those two young men had put their heads in the mouth of the wolf, though they did not know it. They could not be allowed to return to Genghis to betray his position, even if he turned north as they left. Jochi had considered sending them back with some false story for his father, but killing them was safer by far than playing games and hoping to mislead men like Tsubodai. He did not underestimate that man’s fierce intelligence, nor his father’s. If the scouts simply vanished, they would wait months before sending others. By then he would have gone.

  Sen Tu was deep in thought and Jochi watched him closely, sensing like the men around him that the Chin officer would speak for many of them. Sen Tu had seen upheaval in his life, from the appearance of the khan in his Chin homeland, to the Arab nations and this peaceful spot by the river. He had stood in the front rank against the shah’s best horsemen and still Jochi did not know what he would say.

  ‘I have a wife in the gers, lord, and two boys,’ Sen Tu said, raising his head. ‘Will they be safe if I do not come back?’

  Jochi wanted to lie, to say that Genghis would not touch women and children. He struggled for just an instant, then relaxed. He owed the man the truth.

  ‘I don’t know. Let us not fool ourselves. My father is a vengeful man. He may spare them, or not, as he chooses.’

  Sen Tu nodded. He had seen this young general tormented by his own people for years. Sen Tu respected the great khan, but he loved Jochi as a son. He had given his life to the young man who now stood so vulnerably before him, expecting yet another rejection. Sen Tu closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the Buddha that his children would live and one day know a man to follow, as he had done.

  ‘I am with you, general, wherever you go,’ Sen Tu said.

  Though he spoke quietly, the words carried to those around him. Jochi swallowed hard.

  ‘You are welcome, my friend. I did not want to ride alone.’

  Another minghaan officer spoke then.

  ‘You will not be alone, general. I will be there.’

  Jochi nodded, his eyes stinging. His father had known this joy, this vow to follow one man, even if it meant death and the destruction of everything else they loved. It was worth more than gold, more than cities. A ripple spread through his officers as they shouted out to him, calling their names and joining him one by one. For each it was a personal choice, but he had them all and always had. When there were enough, they gave out a raucous cheer, a battle shout that seemed to rock the ground on which he stood.

  ‘When the scouts are dead, I will put it to the men,’ he said.

  ‘General,’ Sen Tu said suddenly. ‘If some of them choose not to come, if they decide to ride back to the khan, they will betray us.’

  Jochi looked into the man’s dark eyes. He had considered his plans for a long time. Part of him knew he should have such men killed. It was less dangerous to let the scouts live than have his own men return to Genghis. If he let them live, his own chances of survival vanished to almost nothing. His knew his father would have made the decision in a heartbeat, but Jochi was torn. He felt the eyes of all his officers on him, waiting to see what he would order.

  ‘I will not stop them, Sen Tu,’ he said. ‘If any man wants to return to his family, I will let him leave.’

  Sen Tu winced.

  ‘Let us see what happens, lord. If it is just a few, I can have men waiting with bows to make an end of them.’

  Jochi smiled at the Chin officer’s unrelenting loyalty. His heart was full as he looked over the crowd gathered
on the river bank.

  ‘I will kill the scouts,’ he said, ‘and then we will see.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The village in the mountains was untouched. For three days, Tsubodai had ridden with Genghis and the tumans, at times following a narrow track that was barely three horses wide. The Mongols could not see how a village could even survive in such a place, though before noon on the third day, they had reached a heavily laden cart drawn by a mule. With a sheer drop on one side, the tumans could not pass in safety so Jebe forced the owner to cut the mule free before his men heaved the cart over the edge. Tsubodai watched it fall with interest until it shattered on the rocks below, spilling grain and bolts of cloth over a wide area.

  The terrified owner did not dare protest and Tsubodai tossed him a pouch of gold for his stoicism, which then broke as the man realised he had more wealth than he had ever seen before.

  The village itself had been built from the stones of the mountains, the houses and single street made of cut blocks the colour of the hills, so that they blended in like natural growths. Behind the small collection of buildings, a thin trail of water fell from dizzying heights above, making the air a mist. Chickens scratched in the dust and people stared in horror at the approaching Mongols before dipping their heads and hurrying away.

  Tsubodai watched all this with interest, though he could not escape a sense of unease. Warriors and carts stretched back along the mountain trail for many miles, and if there was to be a battle, only those in front would be able to fight. The land forced the general to break every rule he had devised for warfare over the years and he could not relax as he rode along the street with Genghis.

  Tsubodai sent a scout back to bring the man who had a sister in the village. With him went a dozen warriors to carry the gold and tip the cart off the cliff. If he had not, it would have blocked all the men behind and cut the army in half. As it was, Tsubodai could not see how to bring up the supplies from the rear. Without a staging area, the string of carts had to remain behind the warriors. Tsubodai struggled with the positions and terrain, hating the way the mountains held his men in a single, vulnerable line.