The Blue Wolf

by Joshua Fogel

  When he learned that Jamugha had sent no troops after him in pursuit, Temüjin moved his encampment from the banks of the Kimurgha Stream to the northern shore of a starfish-shaped lake by the Sengkür Stream that ran through Mount Gürelgü. The land here was sufficiently spacious for such a large settlement to pitch camp, and the pastureland, which had thus far remained untouched by flocks of sheep, spread out as far as the eye could see.

  Upon the pitching of this new encampment, Temüjin was encouraged by his family members to proclaim himself khan of the Mongolian people. The year was 1189 according to the Western calendar, and he was twenty-seven years of age. Until then the Mongolian khan had been a Tayichi’ud by the name of Targhutai, but he had lost most of his former followers and had perforce naturally relinquished the position. The Tayichi’uds, the Jadarans of Jamugha who was now an enemy, and a few other lineages would not recognize Temüjin as khan, but that was no different from any other time in the past.

  In the era of the first khan, Qabul, as well as in the eras of Hambaghai Khan and Qutula Khan, even when Temüjin’s father Yisügei was alive, the Mongols were never a single, unified group. Thus, even if Temüjin were to take the position of khan, a number of camps within the larger Mongolian grouping would certainly fight against this. As far as Temüjin was concerned, though, it was an enormous leap to accede to this station. At the same time, it promised days of fierce struggle with Targhutai of the Tayichi’uds and Jamugha of the Jadarans.

  On the day Temüjin became khan, Qorchi came to him and said:

  “That divine oracle I told you of may actually come to pass. Now you’ve become the Mongol khan. The day will certainly come when you’ll unify the Mongol peoples, subdue the many other peoples on the Mongolian plateau, and rule as king. And when that day comes, don’t renege on your promise to me.”

  In the spirit of a kind of advance payment of a certain percentage of the reward he would earn on that day, Temüjin said:

  “Heavenly oracle! You are henceforth to be separated from military, pasturing, and battle affairs. You are to help Ö’elün and advise her in the rearing and education of her young sons, Küchü and Kököchü.”

  Temüjin thus gave Qorchi the nominal title of being in charge of the education of these two adopted boys and released the old diviner from all other matters. It was the first official proclamation by which Temüjin exercised his authority as khan.

  Temüjin had to put together a control structure completely different from that which earlier generations of khans had built in their settlements. In normal times, the nomadic people grazed and cared for their herds, but in times of emergency they had to be able to quickly transform themselves into a small number of powerful bands.

  Temüjin proceeded to organize units of archers and swordsmen, to prepare official messages, and to appoint the appropriate men to such bureaucratic posts as those in charge of military horses, those in charge of vehicles, those charged with provisioning, those who were to rear the horses, and those who tended the sheep. To the two highest positions directly beneath himself in the camp, he named his first vassals Bo’orchu and Jelme, and each of their younger brothers was named to an important post as well.

  Temüjin’s encampment was now much larger than it had been in the days of his father, Yisügei. He was gradually acquiring strength needed to defeat the Tayichi’uds and the Tatars. His younger brothers—Qasar, Belgütei, Qachi’un, and Temüge—each had their own wives and their own independent yurts. His younger sister Temülün had also married a young man, and they had built a yurt of their own. Being the siblings of Temüjin, they all enjoyed special privileges. Ö’elün, a women now nearing fifty years of age, put her heart and soul into raising the foundlings Küchü and Kököchü. Although he was assigned to an advisory post by her side, Qorchi’s duties were slightly altered by Ö’elün.

  “I want to have children hereafter with far different blood,” she told Qorchi. “No matter how long it takes, make an effort to find clever abandoned children from other lineages.”

  Although unhappy that his own ideas were not being implemented in the rearing of Küchü and Kököchü, Qorchi became deeply involved in the strange task given him by Ö’elün. Virtually every day, Qorchi remained alone in an empty tent, and while watching the clouds flow by, he kept an eye out for battles fought with other lineages providing an opportunity to gather up some new orphans.

  Temüjin was now living with his wife, Börte, his eldest son, Jochi, and his second son born after his having become khan, Cha’adai—a family of four—in addition to several servants. He treated his sons, Jochi and Cha’adai, exactly the same. Just as his own father, Yisügei, had never discriminated for or against him in any way, so he too strictly admonished himself to do so, though he did on occasion find himself staring coldly at Jochi. Even he recognized that the glint in his eye when looking at Jochi was somewhat different from when he looked at Cha’adai.

  Börte was aware of these instances as well. On such an occasion, she would turn to Jochi and then, speaking in such a way that Temüjin would be sure to hear, would say:

  “Jochi, when you grow up, you’ll have to take charge of the fiercest post in battle. You’ll have to do what everyone else isn’t able to. You’ll have to accomplish what even your grandfather, Yisügei, and father, Temüjin, could not. You were born for that purpose. The divine heaven of Mongolia has bestowed you upon the Mongol people.”

  The blood drained from Börte’s face when she said these words, and only the large eyes that constituted her distinctive beauty sparkled brilliantly. What she had said bore precisely the same meaning as those first words spoken by Temüjin to Jochi back in the Merkid settlement: “You are to become a wolf! I too shall become a wolf.”

  As always, Temüjin took this silent criticism from Börte’s eyes and left the scene. “You are to become a wolf! I too shall become a wolf.” Temüjin had repeated these words any number of times to himself. Leaving aside the issue of Jochi, Temüjin was still fully aware that his own issue remained unresolved. Most important of all, though, he had to become a wolf first. A wolf had limitless ambitions. If everything were to settle down once they attacked the Tayichi’uds, then a number of things would have to be done first.

  Until Cha’adai was born, Temüjin slept in the same bed with Börte and Jochi, but after Cha’adai came into the world, Börte slept on a separate bedstead with him, while Temüjin slept with Jochi. Temüjin and Jochi slept facing each other as father and son with exchanging a word, like a father wolf and his cub. Jochi grew to be as intensely taciturn as his father had been as a youngster.

  When Temüjin became khan, he sent Belgütei to To’oril Khan of the Kereyids to announce his accession to the position of khan of the Mongols. To’oril Khan then had Belgütei convey his response to Temüjin:

  “My anda, my bold son, your becoming khan is an event to be warmly welcomed for the Mongolian people. The Mongols must have a great khan. Furthermore, you must not break your bond with my Kereyid people. Throughout our lives our pact must never come undone. Were this to come to pass, it would be comparable to the death of either a father or a son.”

  Temüjin similarly sent a messenger to Jamugha. This task fell to Qasar. For his part, Jamugha mentioned the names of Altan and Qochar, who had left his camp:

  “Altan and Qochar! You two have estranged me from my anda Temüjin with whom I had gotten along as well as the light of spring. Why did you divide us? You stabbed Temüjin in the waist and me in the ribs. You two are traitors with the hearts of wild beasts! But I shall now cease listing your crimes. It is my fervent prayer that you two have a good heart for and be a friend to anda Temüjin.”

  These words, pregnant with all manner of intrigue, bore the distinct mark of Jamugha.

  In less than no time, four years had passed since Temüjin’s accession to khan of the Mongolian people. During those four years, he fully fortified his position as the autocrat of his settlement. In the leisure time from work in the past
urelands, Temüjin saw to it that every man in the settlement had training for battle. There had been a few changes on the Mongolian plateau over these years. All of the lineages and settlements had been assimilated into one of four camps: To’oril Khan, Jamugha, Temüjin, or the Tatars.

  Out of the blue, Jamugha led a force of 13 lineages comprising 30,000 troops over Mount Ala’u’ud and Mount Turgha’ud to attack the camp of Temüjin. News of the approaching army reached Temüjin one morning in early autumn, brought by two young messengers, Mölge Tatagh and Boroldai of the Ikires.

  Temüjin immediately issued marching orders to everyone in his encampment, and that night he left camp in command of over 10,000 troops heading for the open country at Dalan Baljud. The company continued to increase in number, and when they arrived in the evening of the second day at the open field that he expected to be the site of battle, a force of 30,000 deployed there. Thirty thousand faced 30,000 in battle.

  The fighting began early the following morning. Temüjin initially thought that the struggle was lost. The enemy started the fighting, and as expected, each company took up defensive positions. Temüjin found it the same in numerous subsequent battles: his men were strong in counterattacking, weak in assuming the defensive. Bo’orchu, Jelme, Qasar, and Belgütei, all generals under Temüjin’s command, displayed strength so fierce on the battlefield that it was scarcely believable, but when it came to waiting for the opportune moment and ambushing the enemy forces, their capacities dropped off precipitously.

  At first observation, then, the great battle scene before Temüjin seemed calamitous. Just before it began, he sensed a certain lack of energy in his own camp as a whole. If an army of 30,000 wolves attacked, it could scale any mountain and descend through any valley, but their look as they awaited and deployed for the start of the fighting had a far from superb expression, as if every single wolf in the pack was chained up in some way. Temüjin himself was no different.

  The fighting began lethargically, and in short order the hoofs of Jamugha’s cavalry came trampling down on all positions. A moment later, Temüjin issued an order to his entire army for a general retreat, and messengers rode rapidly in all directions over the open fields conveying this order.

  Temüjin led the 10,000 men directly under his command along the Onon River to a ravine where the topography was extremely difficult to maneuver. Being routed, the entire company now moved with a certain astuteness, as if having recovered its energy. The defeat oddly registered no actual sensation in Temüjin. The same appeared to be the case for Bo’orchu, Jelme, Qasar, and Belgütei.

  After returning to his own yurt, Temüjin learned that at the Chinos settlement Jamugha had boiled their kinsmen in seventy kettles, cut off the head of their chief, attached it to a horse’s tail, and dragged it away with him.

  Although Temüjin had lost several hundred men in the fighting, this was relatively minor for a battle of such magnitude. Several days after the defeat, Temüjin welcomed to his camp a number of people from Jamugha’s settlement who had abandoned Jamugha’s base for his own. Several of them moved with their entire camps, and they all berated Jamugha’s savagery.

  Münglig along with seven children was among those who had left Jamugha’s camp and joined them. At the time of Yisügei’s death, Münglig had ridden out to fetch Temüjin at the Unggirad village. He then turned him over to Ö’elün’s care and rode off to the Tayichi’uds. All those who returned to their former service were without exception traitors who had once forsaken Temüjin and his family, but the case of Münglig was slightly different for Temüjin. Insofar as he had trusted him and taken him to be an ally, the blow at the time of his betrayal was enormous.

  When he stood facing Münglig, Temüjin compelled himself to stifle all emotion. Looking into Temüjin’s face, Münglig anticipated that words berating him would emerge from Temüjin’s mouth, but the latter said not a grumbling word to this “traitor.” On the contrary, Temüjin offered words of happiness at Münglig’s health and compassionately received his seven children whom he brought with him. It was not that Temüjin had warm feelings for Münglig, but Münglig’s father, old man Charaqa, had once, when their settlement had withdrawn and left only Ö’elün’s yurt, tried to protect the poor mother and her children until the very end, when he died at the hand of the Tayichi’uds.

  Entirely out of gratitude to Charaqa, Temüjin pledged to cherish Münglig and his seven children. Calling on Qasar and Belgütei, he ordered them: “Treat the son and grandchildren of Charaqa warmly.”

  Just as Temüjin had no genuine sense of defeat in battle, Jamugha bore no feeling of victory. Jamugha had routed Temüjin’s armies, but he hadn’t marched his men any farther thereafter. As before, the Mongolian plateau remained divided among four powers: To’oril Khan, Jamugha, Temüjin, and the Tatars. On the surface nothing had changed, and it seemed as though nothing had been ruptured in the balance among them.

  In the three years following his confrontation with Jamugha on the battlefield, Temüjin devoted himself largely to the unification of his camp. All the various Mongol lineages had gathered there, and there was no end to the confusing problems that ensued. What Temüjin worried most about was the fact that his cousins Seche Beki and Taichu opposed him on every issue that came up. They had pitched their own independent tent for the Yürkins and had not accepted Temüjin as their chief, and on occasion they had entertained the ambitious notion of actually replacing Temüjin. Seche Beki and Taichu were not the only defiant elements. His cousin Qochar, his uncle Daritai Odchigin, and Altan (son of Qutula Khan), among others, maintained private agendas, using every opportunity to extend their respective influences.

  In his own camp, Temüjin never trusted this group of his “relatives.” It was at their prodding that he had been able to assume the position of khan, and in that connection he continued to countenance them, but he knew full well that a time was coming when he would perforce have to expel them. That event, though, was still off in the distant future. For now he had to plan for peace and harmony in his camp and avoid any discord as best he could. They all constituted significant fighting forces that would need to be invested in combat against other lineages. They might have to fight Jamugha at some point, and they might have to fight To’oril Khan.

  Four years having passed since the battle against Jamugha, Temüjin was now in the first month of the year in which he turned thirty-five. The young men who had long shared hardships with him had all entered adulthood. His younger brothers Qasar and Belgütei were thirty-three, while his other brothers Qachi’un and Temüge were each about thirty—all in the prime of manhood. Bo’orchu, to whom Temüjin had entrusted so much as his right-hand man, was the same age as he, thirty-five, while his other “lieutenant,” Jelme, was thirty-eight.

  At the new year’s celebration, Temüjin looked around at his trusted retainers arrayed before his tent, and for the first time in his life he sensed that there was something truly substantial in his camp. They were brimming with strength. No matter whose eyes he looked into, he found a courageous Mongol whom he had been picturing in his mind since youth. It was less that they shared the blood of the blue wolf than that each of them was a blue wolf. Bo’orchu, Jelme, Qasar, Belgütei, Qachi’un, and Temüge, as well as the short brothers, big-headed Chimbai and squinting Chila’un, everyone there was a blue wolf. It struck Temüjin that they were now wolves who had set up camp and were about to take the field. Their eyes reflected a light that bespoke a piercing ability to penetrate a thousand miles away and a ferocity that revealed a mighty will to make anything at all their own. Bodies built for attack had been stunningly perfected: lustrous torsos magnificent and rigid, limbs with just enough flesh to ride through snow fields and fierce winds, and full fleecy tails like a blade cutting through the air.

  Temüjin looked over at a group of the women. Fifty-five-year-old Ö’elün had fifteen-year-old Küchü, the last remaining child of the Merkids, and fifteen-year-old Kököchü, who had the strange destiny to
be born in the Tayichi’ud village and raised in Temüjin’s camp, waiting upon her. Temüjin had never seen his mother’s face so beaming with pride as it was at this moment. As was always her way of expressing it, Ö’elün said:

  “Other than me, who can be the eyes to see in the daytime and ears to hear in the nighttime for the children who have no relatives?” She was raising these children who carried the blood of other races with kindness and courage.

  To Ö’elün’s side was Temüjin’s wife, Börte. Börte was attended by Jochi, who was now ten years of age. Actually, in everyone’s estimation, it was more the other way around: she seemed to wait upon him. In her own distinct fashion, Börte had for the past ten years raised the people living in her tent strictly and with an extraordinary ardor which, at times, Temüjin found almost eerie. After Jochi, she had given birth in succession to three children: Cha’adai, Ögedei, and Tolui. In such a formal setting, the other three sons were entrusted to female attendants, while she always took the seat next to Jochi. Both Temüjin and Börte were anxious that Jochi become a wolf; they didn’t know if it would in fact come to pass, but this was the main trait that was to distinguish him from ordinary children. He was taciturn to the point that people might think him mute—and he never laughed. He had a keen sense of the sounds of the wind outside their tent and of people and animals passing by and was astoundingly able to recognize them.

  Just as the boys seated in a row appeared to Temüjin as wolves, so too did Ö’elün and Börte appear to him at the time as pale does. Not only Ö’elün and Börte, but also the girls seated between them and waiting behind them seemed like a group of pale does looking on as the wolves marched off to battle.

  “There’ll probably be a battle fought this year,” said old Qorchi.