by Joshua Fogel
Chimbai’s most important finding was the fact that the Merkids’ surprise attack was not some capricious adventure on their part. In the more than twenty years since Yisügei had taken Ö’elün back from a young Merkid, they had never forgotten this event. As an act of revenge, they had seized Temüjin’s young bride. Their plan had been set at the time that Temüjin brought Börte into his settlement, and until the present day they had been awaiting a prime opportunity to execute it.
Several months had now passed since Börte’s disappearance from the camp, and with the new year Temüjin turned twenty-five, biding his time—just as the Merkids expected—looking for an opportunity to take his revenge on them. Unlike the Merkids, though, Temüjin was not the sort of man who could wait for over twenty years. If he were to detect an unguarded moment on their part and take advantage of it, he was prepared to do so today or tomorrow, as need be.
Temüjin pushed memories of Börte’s glistening hair and the white nape of her neck from his mind. Whenever such a memory floated into his conscious thoughts, Temüjin felt his entire body fill up with a ferocious rage that this youth could not control.
When Chimbai returned to camp from his reconnaissance missions, Temüjin always listened to his report directly, and he never asked any questions. Temüjin was taciturn, but another level of taciturnity had overcome him. So that his face would not show anyone anything of his inner feelings, he had girded himself even more rigidly so that no expression would appear.
There was, however, one exception. When Chimbai completed his report this time, Temüjin moved his mouth slightly. Unable to hear if Temüjin had said anything, Chimbai urged him to speak further. Then, Temüjin quietly muttered:
“How is Börte?”
Chimbai could barely make out these words. He did not respond for a moment. Temüjin then said in a low voice, more clearly than before, “How is Börte?” His eyes were acutely focused on Chimbai’s.
Chimbai replied resignedly with only a few words: “She’s become the wife of a young man named Chiledü.”
When he heard Chimbai’s answer, for a moment Temüjin’s complexion changed, but he then straightened up and left Chimbai.
This was the first time that Börte’s name had been spoken by either man. Temüjin became even more resolutely uncommunicative, always showing a severe expression on his face. And he now never laughed.
After her abduction, Börte’s name became completely taboo in the settlement. It was never mentioned by Ö’elün, by Qasar, by his young sister, Temülün, or by any of the maidservants.
About a month after Chimbai had responded to Temüjin’s question and blurted out the information about Börte, Temüjin consulted with Qasar, Belgütei, and Bo’orchu on the matter he had been thinking over day and night in the interim: a raid on the Merkid village to recover Börte. All the men would take part, and protecting the settlement would be the job of the women. Until this point, never had any lineage left the care of a settlement in the hands of powerless women, but in this instance Temüjin decided that he would arm the women and have them guard the camp once the men had departed. He wanted to add every male available to the raiding party.
Qasar, Belgütei, and Bo’orchu all agreed. Temüjin had already firmly decided what he proposed to them. His young colleagues knew this only too well. Whether it was reckless of them or not, they had to set a plan in motion now. The men of the settlement—including the older men—numbered fewer than thirty.
Temüjin decided that the planned raid would be some twenty days hence, when the moon was at its slightest. The Merkid settlement was south of Lake Baikal, near the confluence point of the Orkhon and Selengge rivers. Even if they rode their horses slowly, it was a trip of only a few days and one that Chimbai knew well, as he had taken it any number of times.
With that settled, on virtually a daily basis all the dozen or more women—beginning with Ö’elün and, of course, seventeen-year-old Temülün—took up weapons and began their training in how to defend the settlement. Temüjin assigned instruction of the women to Bo’orchu, while he along with Qasar, Belgütei, and an additional number of horses paid a visit to To’oril Khan, chief of the Kereyids, in his village. Temüjin was hoping to borrow from the Kereyid leader some of his superior weapons. Because his men numbered fewer than thirty, he wanted at least their fighting implements to be fine specimens. Their horses were excellent, having borne up under all manner of warfare, but their weaponry was not at all uniformly satisfactory. Furthermore, the women would have to have arms in the settlement, and there were too few of them at present. Temüjin wanted to see that the younger men who were ready to defy death for him had the best weapons and armor that could possibly be made.
Temüjin, Qasar, and Belgütei rode upstream beside the Orkhon River for several days, until they reached the Kereyid camp situated in the Black Forest by the banks of the Tula River. When he met To’oril Khan, Temüjin confided to him all the facts of the case. To’oril Khan looked at the three visitors with the same cold brow and eyes. After thinking for a moment, he suddenly changed his expression and said:
“Orphaned son of Yisügei, do you not remember that I swore an oath to you? In return for your gift of a black sable robe, I said that I would gather your people who had scattered from you. It would seem that that time has come. I shall rally my forces for you, orphaned son of Yisügei. I shall take my army and kill every last Merkid camped south of Lake Baikal, and return your wife, Börte, to you.”
To’oril Khan then cut himself off momentarily before continuing in a slower voice, his cold eyes shining even more frigidly than before:
“You little chickens are just starting to grow up now. I am going to offer you a return gift for the robe of black sable. First, with an army of 20,000 men, I shall set out from here as the right hand. You proceed to the base of Jamugha, chief of the Jadarans, who is encamped at the dry bed of the Qorqonaq River, and convey my message to him: ‘To’oril Khan is about to mobilize an army of 20,000 and massacre all of the Merkids for the son of Yisügei. Jamugha, you shall go as his left hand, and you set the meeting place and time.’”
Temüjin stared at To’oril Khan in utter amazement. He had never seen a person who could in such a short time make such a momentous decision. His cold mien was suited to the resolution he was coming to.
When he left To’oril Khan’s camp, Temüjin had, to say the least, successfully disposed of the matter of borrowing weaponry, the objective of his visit, so he remounted and headed back to his own settlement. En route the three brothers scarcely stopped to rest. When they arrived, Temüjin alone remained behind, while Qasar and Belgütei reloaded their horses with bags of food and set off promptly for Jamugha’s base.
Jamugha was a descendant of a brother of Qabul, the first of the Mongol khans, and thus he belonged to the Borjigin people. He was about five years older than Temüjin, who knew him by sight. Although he was only five or six years old at the time, Temüjin had played with Jamugha when the latter came with his father to pay a call on Yisügei’s camp. The image remained in Temüjin’s head even now of this roly-poly, friendly boy who took quickly to strangers. Even men much older than he found him stunningly precocious, and the words that came from his mouth startled the adults around him.
From that time forward, Jamugha’s family split off from the Tayichi’ud lineage, to whom they were related by blood, and from Temüjin’s Borjigin lineage. With their own independent camp, they called themselves the Jadarans. Jamugha expanded their camp remarkably, so that its importance outstripped that of all other Mongol lineages, far surpassing the Tayichi’uds. Temüjin had acquired this information much earlier. Jamugha had sworn an oath of friendship with To’oril Khan and assumed the status of a younger brother to him.
On the morning of the fifth day, Qasar and Belgütei, the envoys to Jamugha, were exhausted to the point that they could barely move. They left their horses before Temüjin’s tent and went in to relate to him their meeting with Jamugha.
“Jamugha said that he had heard that Temüjin was a victim of a Tayichi’ud attack, and it pained him deeply. At To’oril Khan’s encouragement, he is now mustering an army, he says, whose sole gratification it will be to work tirelessly for Temüjin. He said that they shall presently storm the upper reaches of the Kilgho River, make rafts out of the green grasses, enter the plateau where the Merkids are camped, and demolish the tents. And, he said, they will take the women and children captive and kill all the Merkid men until the lineage has disappeared.”
Qasar made this report while panting from exhaustion. Belgütei then continued in his stead:
“Jamugha said: ‘As we set off for war, I shall pour mare’s milk on the earth. I shall beat my drum covered with the skin of a black ox. I shall wear stiff clothing and ride my black horse. I shall carry my metal spear and notch a peach-bark arrow in my bow. I shall be waiting for To’oril Khan’s troops in the evening ten days hence at Botoghan Bo’orji. Even if there is a mighty blizzard, do not be late for this meeting! Even if the earth should rumble, do not be late! My blood brother, To’oril Khan!’”
Jamugha’s words as conveyed by Qasar and Belgütei were immediately passed along to Bo’orchu and from there to To’oril Khan’s base in the Black Forest.
Everything was moving along far more favorably than Temüjin had ever imagined. That 40,000 troops were being called up on Temüjin’s behalf seemed almost dreamlike. As Temüjin’s two arms, two forces were with each passing hour spreading over a corner of the plateau, aimed at the Merkid camp located near the confluence of the Orkhon and Selengge rivers.
Compared to the forces of To’oril Khan and Jamugha, Temüjin’s far inferior band of some 30 men made its way to the designated site on the agreed-upon day. The 20,000-man army under Jamugha had already arrived, while To’oril Khan’s 20,000-man army came three days late, despite his own firm resolve.
Although it had been fifteen or more years since Temüjin had last seen Jamugha, the latter had lost nothing of the image he conveyed in their childhood. Unlike To’oril Khan, he always had a gentle smile on his face. His plump torso gave the impression of an energetic man about to enter middle age who, to be sure, was a little too heavy. His call to battle, delivered in a high-pitched voice that Temüjin had learned of from Qasar and Belgütei, seemed to have emerged from the mouth of an affable man.
The invasion began the following morning. With rafts made from the green grasses, the army of 40,000 crossed the Orkhon River, formed ranks, and marched forward like floodwaters onto the grasslands where the Merkids had their sphere of influence. One by one they swallowed up the small Merkid settlements.
The Merkids mobilized 10,000 men and pitched camp around their yurts. The decisive battle, though, was over in just a day. Temüjin led several hundred men entrusted to his leadership by To’oril Khan, launching an assault on the Merkids, who were thrown into disarray along the fighting front and sought refuge in their own settlements. Having given up their will to resist, the majority of Merkid forces quietly tried to disappear into their settlements. Temüjin sought out their tents one by one.
In no time at all he located Börte and old Qo’aqchin. They had sought shelter in the corner of a yurt, not knowing that the invasion that had come upon them was Temüjin’s strategy for their recovery. When she saw Temüjin enter their yurt, Börte let out a quiet scream of surprise.
Temüjin said not a word to Börte. Entrusting her to his brother Qasar, he quickly returned to the camp on the grasslands where To’oril Khan and Jamugha were. Temüjin thanked his two benefactors profusely for their cooperation.
To’oril Khan and Jamugha then stationed their respective troops at sites about a mile away, but neither of them was especially anxious to depart. This action on the part of these two men struck Temüjin as altogether different from the image they had conveyed before the fighting. They seemed to him to be checking each other in some way.
During this time, a great massacre of the Merkids was taking place. Whether old or very young, all men faced the same fate of being put to death. Almost every day, a line of Merkid men being transported to the execution ground at the dry riverbed traversed the grasslands. The women were assembled on level ground that appeared to be exactly midway between the camps of To’oril Khan and Jamugha. All of their household effects were piled up like a mountain near the same spot.
Temüjin and his small number of subordinates pitched three tents near the settlement from which the Merkids had been emptied and made their camp there. The stench of dead bodies was everywhere and flowed into Temüjin’s camp day and night.
One day Temüjin received a message from To’oril Khan to come and take his portion of the divided women and booty. He had not had the rights to a full share and did not want it. Temüjin thus went to To’oril Khan’s tent and explained himself, but the old Kereyid chief would not take no for an answer. Jamugha was in agreement with him on this point. Although it was they who had mobilized the armies, Temüjin had participated in the fighting, and he had thus earned the right to share in the spoils, they claimed. Ultimately, Temüjin would not accede to their position and adamantly refused to receive a share.
Numerous articles of plunder and several thousand women were divided in the presence of the many troops, with one group going to To’oril Khan’s camp and the other to Jamugha’s. Flocks of sheep and herds of horses covering the grasslands only a few hundred yards away were similarly apportioned. There were, though, some things that could not be dealt with: the grasslands, fields, mountains, and valleys. These were far from the Kereyid camp and from Jamugha’s camp. The plateau was closest to Temüjin’s small settlement.
If To’oril Khan and Jamugha were to withdraw, Temüjin thought, he could make this expansive piece of land his own. Of course, even if he did own it, right now there was nothing he could do with it, but if the number of those under his command were to increase, he would surely be able to arrange them in such a way that they served at innumerable points over the great Mongolian plateau.
Temüjin made Bo’orchu the chief of half of his roughly thirty subordinates and sent them back to the settlement that was still being protected solely by the womenfolk. Henceforth, the rest were permitted to pitch camp in the environs of the now empty Merkid camp. Although Qasar and Belgütei soon wished to return to their settlement, Temüjin had no such desire. Until the armies of To’oril Khan and Jamugha departed, it was not proper form for him to do so, and there was as well one thing on his mind that Temüjin had not decided.
What was he to do with Börte? When he had located her, he had merely exchanged glances with Börte. Every day the image of her had floated into Temüjin’s mind, though the figure that he saw now was somewhat different from the Börte that had appeared in his mind’s eye back at the camp in the foothills of Mount Burqan. She was wearing light green clothing, and her brownish hair and white skin glistened as before, but one spot on her body was different. Her skirt had unusually expanded. It was the night of the great massacre when the Merkid settlement had fallen, but Temüjin had certainly not observed incorrectly. Without a doubt, Börte had become pregnant.
Although he had entrusted Börte to Qasar, Temüjin did not later ask what had happened with her. Qasar had accepted his elder brother’s wife into his care, but he made no mention of her whatsoever. This only proved to Temüjin further that he had not erred.
One day Temüjin called for Chimbai to come into his tent. In the instant he looked at Chimbai’s face, his mind was settled. He now felt that he had no choice but to ask Chimbai his opinion, and then the matter would be solved probably in accordance with his reply. This was not something that Börte sought for herself.
“Tell Qasar to bring Börte here,” Temüjin told Chimbai. Chimbai left immediately, and soon Qasar entered his tent. With a stiff look, Qasar merely said:
“Börte’s in a tent two down from here.”
Sensing something strange in Qasar’s words, Temüjin just left his tent and walked over to
the one she was in. Rays of light came down at an angle from the window. Börte was lying in bed. Temüjin then suddenly saw the figure of a baby at her side. Peeping in, he saw old Qo’aqchin stooping forward toward her.
Temüjin approached the bed. Börte appeared weak as she looked up at him. He remained silent as she pointed to the infant with her eyes. A faint smile floated onto her delicate face, and she said something to Temüjin:
“Give him a name, please.” These were indeed the words he heard.
“You want me to give him a name?” he said.
“He’s your child,” she now said with unexpected clarity in her tone of voice.
“I don’t know if he’s my child or not,” said Temüjin, spurning her, to which she replied:
“Where is there any proof that he is not your son?”
She spoke with a firm desperation. For a moment while he himself was unaware of it, Temüjin walked around the inside of the tent. He simply could not sit still just now. There were so many things he had to think over.
“There’s no proof whatsoever that he’s not your son, is there? I don’t know of it, and you don’t know of it.” Börte’s voice entered Temüjin’s ears, but he did not accept it. There was no room left in his mind.
Unable to control the confused look on his face, Temüjin stood still. Then, in a slightly dry voice, he said: “Jochi.”
“Jochi?” Börte replied with a question. The word jochi had the meaning “guest.” This was the name that his pained, confused mind selected for the baby Börte had given birth to, a child whose father remained unknown, just as had been true in his own case.
That Temüjin had acceded to her request and given the child she had borne a name meant in effect that he had forgiven her everything. Had he not done so, he would certainly not have gone to the trouble of assigning a name to a child who might have been the son of another lineage. He decided that he would treat this infant his wife, Börte, had delivered as a guest in his home.