by Joshua Fogel
Temüjin made up his mind to meet this To’oril Khan. It struck him as clearly beneficial on all fronts to get to know the man. Temüjin was now the head of a settlement, albeit still quite small. Were he to show him every appropriate courtesy and seek his assistance, for his part To’oril Khan would surely not take an indifferent attitude toward him. Furthermore, his father, Yisügei, had enjoyed a period of close friendship with To’oril Khan. In his last years, Yisügei had been tied up trying to resolve problems involving his own people and had been unable to visit or meet with To’oril Khan frequently, but the pact the two of them had made as youths would have continued right down to the present without alteration.
Temüjin sounded out his circle of colleagues about going to the camp of the leader of the Kereyids to seek friendly relations. He consulted, of course, with Qasar and Belgütei, but also with Bo’orchu, Chimbai, and Chila’un. He even spoke about this matter with his mother, Ö’elün, and his wife, Börte. Needless to say, no one offered any opposition.
Ö’elün pointed out that he ought to bring with him as a memento for To’oril Khan the very finest possession they presently owned. Aside from sheep and horses, though, there was nothing in Temüjin’s camp worthy of the description. Although she had been silent until this point, Börte said:
“I have a black sable robe that my mother brought into this home as a gift.” Temüjin immediately agreed that this would do. It was surely superior to anything Temüjin presently had in his yurt.
Together with his two brothers Qasar and Belgütei, Temüjin took the sable robe and went to pay a visit to To’oril Khan at the Kereyid encampment in the forest by the banks of the Tula River. Compared to the Unggirad settlement, that of the Kereyids was far simpler, with a gloomy atmosphere prevailing. This mood indicated just how poorly off these people were. Many sheep and horses covered the extensive grasslands, and many were the tents of those peoples who made a living this way. Temüjin thought he now understood the reason that To’oril Khan, despite having large numbers of lineage members and excellent fighting skills, had not gone out of his way to seek trouble with other lineages.
At the back of a large tent, Temüjin and his brothers met with To’oril Khan, a slender man in his fifties with a coldness in his eyes.
“Our father, Yisügei,” said Temüjin, “called you anda, a blood brother, and therefore you are like a father to us as well. My wife’s mother brought a sable robe as a gift for her daughter’s father-in-law. Inasmuch as my father is no longer living, I would like to present it to you as my father’s equal.”
He then placed the present before To’oril Khan, who was extremely pleased. He acted as though he had never before received such an extravagant gift. His delight aside, though, his words were harsh:
“You little urchins without a father, you’re awfully generous.” In To’oril Khan’s eyes, Temüjin and his brothers still did not amount to full-fledged men.
“In return for this black sable robe, should the opportunity come in future, I’ll gather together your people who’ve separated from you. Once I’ve sworn something, I never violate a vow. You suffered worse in the past, my little chickens, and while you’ve grown a bit, you’re still weaklings.”
Temüjin and his party were ultimately not treated as adults and had to leave To’oril Khan’s camp. For his own part, though, Temüjin never retained any displeasure toward To’oril Khan as a person. Compared to To’oril Khan, who could mobilize a force of 30,000 men at a moment’s notice, the three brothers headed by 18year-old Temüjin really were little more than urchins, chickens, and weaklings.
The three brothers rode their horses to a wooded area known as the Black Forest, where there was a Kereyid settlement, and traversed it. A cool, somewhat severe atmosphere hung over the camp there, with the young Kereyids who never laughed silently cutting a path through the forest. The face of every one of the young men bore a striking resemblance to To’oril Khan with the stern brow and cold eyes. The people of this lineage, thought Temüjin, had an innate imperturbability.
When he returned to his own settlement, Temüjin noted to himself that the men there should have a facial expression like that of the Kereyid youngsters. He woke up early the next morning and spent the entire day working in the pasturelands. When night came, he mounted his horse and practiced shooting arrows and wielding his dagger and spear. Qasar and Belgütei, as well as Qachi’un, who was still young but trying hard to grow up, and Temüge all followed him. Bo’orchu, Chimbai, and Chila’un, along with a dozen or so Unggirad men, all followed Temüjin’s example.
In equestrian skills no one excelled Qasar, while Bo’orchu was unsurpassed in mounted archery. Belgütei was best at maneuvering the large dagger, and the squinting Chila’un was supreme in shooting arrows. No one could match Chimbai in martial arts, but he also demonstrated exceptional talent in tailing people and seeking out the movements of others.
Although Ö’elün came into contact almost every day with these young subordinates of Temüjin, she paid close attention to all manner of detail and deplored the fact that there were no young girls with the particular talents of serving girls and maidservants. The discontent Ö’elün had with life in this camp was twofold: the absence of such youngsters and the fact that Börte had not given birth to a child. To Ö’elün’s way of thinking, a woman who did not give birth was not a woman. On this point Börte herself felt deeply ashamed. As her father, Dei Sechen, put it, she had to bear numerous cubs with the blood of the wolf, who would crush every last Tayichi’ud, every last Tatar, and even every last Unggirad. This she wanted to do ever so much.
Of Ö’elün’s two worries, she was able finally to resolve the problem of training young people to be attentive servants as needed. One day an older man by the name of Jarchi’udai came to their camp, carrying on his shoulders a smith’s bellows, accompanied by a young fellow. Ö’elün knew the old man, and Temüjin too remembered him, for when Temüjin was four or five years old he had left their camp and moved to a place deep in the region of Mount Burqan, where he built a hut and lived a solitary life.
“When you were born,” the old man said to Temüjin, “I presented you with fur swaddling in congratulation. I gave you Jelme here, and from that time forward you and he have had a master-servant relationship. But at that time, given that Jelme was only three years old, I kept him by my side, and I have trained him myself until this day. Jelme has now also reached manhood. Please use him as you see fit. Have him saddle your horse or open the door to your tent.” And, so saying, he introduced his son to Temüjin.
From that day forward the young man became a member of Temüjin’s circle. Three years Temüjin’s senior, he was dark complexioned and undistinguished in appearance. A man of simplicity and honesty, he worked faithfully on every task given him. He thus inconspicuously but gently saw to the needs of the maidservants, and soon made himself indispensable to the camp. Jelme was just the sort of young man Ö’elün had been looking for.
Life in Temüjin’s tent grew more substantial with each passing day. He worked tirelessly, for there were many necessary tasks to attend to in his own camp: to match the wealth of the Unggirads, his wife’s home lineage, with his own, and to replicate the military capacity of the Kereyids, whose leaders had, in his opinion, gained control over their people.
Until he was twenty-four years old, Temüjin worked hard to increase the number of yurts in his settlement. Aside from the fact that his wife had yet to give birth to a child, he had no major frustrations in life. Although the long-cherished desire of his mother and brothers to launch attacks on the Tayichi’uds and Tatars had yet to be accomplished, Temüjin had come to realize that this was not the sort of problem that would be solved quickly or by a youth barely over twenty. Temüjin was young, as were those in his camp.
Temüjin’s life now, as it had been around the time he and Börte had married, was not exposed to the anxiety of never knowing when and where an enemy might attack. The Tayichi’uds had no notion th
at they might eradicate from the earth all descendants of Yisügei once they grew up; and even if they did entertain such an idea, they did not anticipate realizing it.
Temüjin was, however, assaulted by a completely unexpected disaster. It took place one morning when fierce winter weather was imminent on the plateau. A commotion broke out in Ö’elün’s tent.
“Everyone, get up quickly,” he heard the voice of Ö’elün’s faithful old servant Qo’aqchin saying. “I can hear the beat of horses’ hoofs and the cries of battle far off in the distance.” Ö’elün jumped up first at the sound of her maid’s voice.
The commotion quickly passed from tent to tent. When Temüjin emerged in the open area in front of the camp, everyone was already up and out of their respective tents. Night had not yet given way to dawn, and the darkness of the predawn hour hung over them. The reverberation of horses’ hoofs shattering the frigid air grew steadily louder as the shouts and wails gradually grew more audible.
Temüjin ordered everyone to mount a horse and find refuge in Mount Burqan. It was uncertain how strong the enemy’s numbers were, and in any event, it was clear to him that attempting to ambush the enemy in their camp had serious drawbacks. While leading his own horse out, he kept an eye on everyone else as they mounted up. Ö’elün climbed up on her horse, as did Qasar and Temüge. Belgütei, Bo’orchu, and Jelme were also astride their saddles. Temülün was together with her mother, Ö’elün, and Börte too had mounted her horse. Qo’aqchin took its bridle. All the other men and women had now also mounted. Those without horses clung to the reins of one.
Jelme was at the head of the group, while Temüjin was at the rear, like a sheepherder urging his flock forward. To ascertain who the attackers were and how strong their force was, Bo’orchu, Qasar, and Belgütei separated from the group and rode their horses in the opposite direction.
Confusion erupted when the evacuees tried to leave through the wooden barricade surrounding the settlement, as the black shadows of several mounted soldiers appeared on the slope to the right of the camp. Temüjin entrusted the group to Jelme and then immediately turned his horse in the direction in which Bo’orchu, Qasar, and Belgütei had galloped off, toward the enemy beyond the wooden fence around the settlement. Jumping over obstacles, he rode after them at full speed.
Temüjin was reunited with Bo’orchu and the others, ready to face the enemy with a shield of a few trees growing near the edge of the slope. Although the enemy was not as numerous as they had imagined, they still had some thirty to forty men. They were riding in what seemed like a thoroughly capricious fashion to the bottom of the slope, now galloping off to the east, now to the west, but never coming directly ahead. As if to remind themselves from time to time, they shot arrows in that direction. Because Temüjin and his allies could not see the enemy clearly, it was all a very strange, uncanny experience, like seeing something by its moving silhouette.
When the arrows being fired by the enemy gradually grew more numerous, shouts were heard unexpectedly from an altogether different direction: the north, where the women and children had fled. Quickly Temüjin and his three fellow fighters doubled back to the settlement. When they jumped the wooden fence and entered the site, a group of the women and children who should have been well beyond the barrier by now came rushing back in a state of utter confusion. Jelme’s hoarse voice was calling out something and could be heard amid the pounding of horses’ hoofs, the shouts, and the screams.
Temüjin ordered Jelme to take the group that had returned back out through the rear gate of the camp, while he turned and headed toward the fence on the northern side of camp, through which the women had earlier tried to escape. Arrows came pouring down like rain. Temüjin, Belgütei, Qasar, and Bo’orchu stopped for a while in their tents, which they used as shields, and fired arrows back. Because the land beyond the fence inclined sharply, they couldn’t see the faces of the enemy who were undoubtedly advancing toward them. Then, on the far side of the barrier, gradually one mounted enemy fighter and then another began to appear and then disappear behind it. They showed no sign, though, that they were going to scale the fence and enter the camp. Temüjin and his colleagues for a long time diligently exchanged fire with the enemy. Temüjin did not leave his present location until it seemed to him that the women Jelme had been charged with leading through the back gate were far away, and he continued fighting this unexpectedly vile group who, while pressing them at their settlement, was not moving at them in any sudden attack.
Bo’orchu then came riding toward him and called out: “They’re Merkids.” Only then did Temüjin learn that his opponents were not Tayichi’uds.
When it became apparent that arrows were now coming at them not just from the east and north but from all directions, Temüjin ordered the three young men with him to abandon the settlement and escape into the mountains. It was useless and highly dangerous to try to remain there any longer. Bo’orchu took the lead and headed toward the rear gate. Temüjin, Qasar, and Belgütei followed in that order. When they cleared the fence, they could see nothing of the women and children anywhere. It seemed that Jelme had led them shrewdly to make good their escape.
As soon as they were beyond the fence, Qasar yelled:
“Scatter!”
And scatter they all did, each steering his horse in whatever direction he sought. Temüjin headed with typical persistence straight for the grasslands to the west, switched directions midway, and rode up the expansive, slow incline at the foothills of Mount Burqan. No more arrows were being shot at him. He could see the minuscule figures of Qasar and Belgütei riding their horses up the slope of Mount Burqan, climbing higher and higher. Only Bo’orchu could not be seen, which somewhat worried Temüjin. Eventually, from an unexpected direction, Bo’orchu appeared as a tiny, skilled horseman.
That afternoon, Temüjin and Qasar, Belgütei, and Bo’orchu were able to rendezvous more or less at the same time. That evening the brigade of women and children led by Jelme joined them.
When he saw Temüjin and the others, Jelme asked:
“Did you see Börte?”
As he explained, when Börte left through the rear gate, she abandoned her horse and got into a black covered cart next to an area of dry grass. Old Qo’aqchin saw that it was drawn by an ox with a dappled design on its haunches. They fell behind the group as a result and separated from the settlement by way of the nearby farmland so as to fool the invaders. Her horse had been injured, so Börte had no choice but to pursue this means of escape.
After he decided on a site for them to pitch camp, Temüjin spent from that night until the next morning riding back and forth in search of Börte, over the slope of Mount Burqan with its outcrop-pings of trees, grassy areas, and crags. But nowhere was he able to locate a trace of her.
On the fourth day following their ascent of the mountain, Temüjin sent Bo’orchu, Belgütei, and Jelme out on a reconnaissance mission over the foothills. Having thus learned that the Merkids had left the entire region, he descended Mount Burqan at the head of his lineage of men and women.
Only later did he learn that the attackers were a group led by three Merkid men, each with a different surname. News of old Qo’aqchin and Börte was, as before, not to be had. After about a month had passed, Temüjin learned that Qo’aqchin and Börte had been seized and taken prisoner to a Merkid village, where they were presently residing.
When he thought of Börte, Temüjin became insane with anger, but he was not going to offer up another sacrifice, and the fact that he and the others had been able to return to their own settlement did indeed make him happy. Because they had received the protection of Mount Burqan when they had all escaped into its environs, Temüjin decided to offer a prayer of thanks to it.
Since Börte was no longer among them, Temüjin gathered the members of his settlement together before their now deserted camp and had them construct an altar there. Temüjin then said to them:
“Through the grace of this Mount Burqan, we were protected fro
m the Merkids. Because of this Mount Burqan, our insignificant, antlike, licelike lives were saved. Every morning sacrifice to Burqan! Every day pray to Burqan! And pass on this memory through our Borjigin descendants!”
Temüjin then stood facing Mount Burqan. He took the two symbols of authority and hung his belt around his neck and took his hat in his hand. Placing a hand on his chest, he knelt and poured some mare’s milk onto the ground. After repeating this nine times, he offered up his prayer.
Bitter times were now come to Temüjin. With Börte kidnapped by the Merkids, all of nature surrounding him seemed completely to change its complexion. What he had to do now was to seize her back. To that end, Temüjin had subordinates who, he believed, would risk their lives for him without regret, but they were so few that it would have been reckless to launch an attack on the large Merkid settlement.
Any number of times, Chimbai with the large head volunteered and went off on spying missions to the Merkid village, but his report upon returning was always the same:
“The Merkids have placed fifty sentinels around the outside of their settlement. Getting inside their camp without being detected by them would be an act even a field mouse couldn’t perform.”
Judging by Chimbai’s report, the Merkids were expecting Temüjin and his men to retaliate and had stepped up their vigilance.
As if this was part of the task assigned to him, Chimbai waited two or three days after returning from his mission and then set out once again to the Merkid settlement. This time when he returned he had much to report on from having entered the settlement. Thus, Temüjin now was even able to gain detailed information about the number of Merkid horses.