by Joshua Fogel
“I think so too,” replied Münglig, who was accompanied by his seven intrepid children. Qorchi was past sixty years of age, and Münglig was over fifty. Their seniority always entitled them to seats of honor at such gatherings. If a battle did erupt, the opposition would be Jamugha or To’oril Khan. There was no need for a reason to be concocted for hostilities to commence. When someone had the will to fight, his opponent immediately became the enemy. As a group, most were of the view that Jamugha was more likely to be the opponent should fighting break out.
As these two old-timers would say, it seemed to Temüjin that the group of wolves here assembled should take to the field this year to topple the enemy. Such was his premonition, but he was uncertain who the enemy would be. Jamugha did not seem as though he would launch an assault, nor did To’oril Khan appear to be vigorously moving in his direction. Should it come to pass, it would be a problem for his own mind to fathom, and he had no idea at all where his own mind was moving for even the following day.
Temüjin’s premonition became a reality half a year later, at the end of the sixth month of the year. News that an army from the state of Jin had crossed the Great Wall and attacked the Tatars reached him via a merchant from the Unggirads, Börte’s people, and Temüjin immediately made the decision himself to attack the Tatars. Although Jin was also an enemy, the Tatars were a foe against whom the Mongols had long borne a grudge. Temüjin had never forgotten his father, Yisügei, saying, “Attack the Tayichi’uds, attack the Tatars!” Although he would follow this command in reverse order, he had to attack when the time for each was ripe. Were he to let this opportunity pass, he might not be able to conquer the Tatars and establish his predominance in the northeastern sector of the plateau for a long time to come. It was the chance of a lifetime.
Temüjin did precisely the same thing he had done ten years earlier when To’oril Khan hastily massacred the Merkids and departed. Although previously, To’oril Khan played the main role, that part now fell to Temüjin. Just as To’oril Khan had called on Jamugha at that time, now Temüjin had no choice but to invite To’oril Khan to join the fray. This would both double the size of the attacking army and surely provoke criticism by other peoples.
Belgütei and his subordinates went on the mission into the Black Forest by the banks of the Tula River. By the time Belgütei was to return, Temüjin had his entire armed force prepared to move. When Belgütei did return, he reported that To’oril Khan had already left the Black Forest at the head of the entire Kereyid army. Temüjin sensed that such a vulturelike, quick-witted movement to launch an attack and acquire spoils was just to the liking of To’oril Khan.
Temüjin’s army of 30,000 marched day and night to the northeast to reach the wilderness of the Mongolian plateau. On the tenth day, they met up with the army of To’oril Khan near the confluence of the Kherlen and Ulja rivers.
There, after the passage of ten years, Temüjin saw To’oril Khan, who was now over sixty years of age.
“My son,” said the aged commander, facing Temüjin with the same frigid eyes and brow changed not a whit from before, “if we massacre the Tatars, we will have to kill every single male. We must split the women, possessions, and sheep in half. Any objections? The Tatars are an enemy you Mongols cannot detest enough.”
“Agreed,” replied Temüjin. Revenge had to be taken on the Tatars. The blood of Mongol ancestors had been spilled by them any number of times. Qutula Khan and his six brothers had lost their lives fighting the Tatars. Hambaghai Khan had been captured by the Tatars and delivered into the hands of the Jin. The latter nailed him to a wooden donkey, flayed him alive, and cut up his flesh into tiny pieces. “You must take revenge for me on this enemy, even if you wear down all ten of your fingernails and then lose all ten fingers.” Even now Temüjin remembered this story and could hear the voice of old Bültechü who recounted it to him.
“My anda!” said To’oril Khan. “At sunrise on the third day following the division of the plunder, I shall return home with my army from the occupied area. And you do the same.”
“Agreed.” When Temüjin replied this time, To’oril Khan for the first time smiled at his sworn friend, who did not know if the other man might be his enemy.
Once they had agreed on the allocation of spoils and when mutually to withdraw, the attack would begin. From the northwest To’oril Khan and from the southwest Temüjin would launch the assault on the Tatars, who were engaged in battle with the Jin army and its superior equipment.
Facing enemies on three fronts, the Tatars were thoroughly annihilated at the end of seven days of mortal combat. Temüjin took a policy of not allowing a single enemy troop to live in battle. The Tatar chief, Me’üjin Se’ültü, was taken prisoner and brought before Temüjin, where they cut the crown of his head in half and he breathed his last. All the men taken captive were executed. The women were bound and assembled at one site, divided into two groups, and marched off respectively by To’oril Khan or Temüjin. When all of the valuable possessions had been stripped from the Tatar settlement nearby, it was burned to the ground.
To’oril Khan and Temüjin received thanks for their cooperation from the commander of the Jin forces, with To’oril Khan being given the title of “prince” and Temüjin the official post of “head of one hundred households.” Quietly, Temüjin also accepted the strange and, as far as he was now concerned, substantively valueless title of “pacification commissioner.” Although this did not appear entirely the attitude of To’oril Khan, Temüjin’s feelings were more complex. From his perspective, the mighty state of Jin on the other side of the Great Wall was also an implacable enemy. Someday, he thought, he would like to return his “pacification commissioner” title to the ruler of the Jin. But at this point, Temüjin kept such thoughts to himself and could not give form to them in any decisive way. He still lacked the luxury of being able to think about what transpired on the other side of the Great Wall.
The withdrawal of troops was carried out as agreed with To’oril Khan. While both Temüjin’s forces and those of To’oril Khan had several hundred vehicles loaded with mountains of plunder, there was a certain difference in their respective booty. Among Temüjin’s, as among To’oril Khan’s, were such items as silver baby carriages, large precious stones, and bedsteads with inlaid shells, but the majority of what they took was war chariots, weapons, and armor. Assembled here were all manner of things, some of course used by the Tatars and some formerly owned by the Jin army. Some things they took from the battlefield, and some they specifically purchased from the Jin.
There was one other odd item of booty. Qorchi, who joined the troops out of a sense of fulfilling a personal mission, got his hands on one infant orphan left in the Tatar encampment. He was wearing a waistcoat made of three-color damask lined with sable and with a gold ring attached as adornment. Although the baby eventually babbled a few words, his face bore signs of refinement revealing what appeared to be high birth. Having been so ordered, Qorchi had been able now for many years to fulfill Ö’elün’s desire. This child was presented to Ö’elün, and she gave him the name Shigi Qutuqu. He was to be raised in Ö’elün’s tent, so that this orphan of a Tatar black kite would become a Mongol falcon.
Upon his triumphal return to camp, Temüjin learned that a settlement under his control had been attacked in his absence by Seche Beki and Taichu of the Yürkins, several dozen people were stripped of their clothing, and a dozen or more were murdered. Temüjin had issued a mobilization order for the Yürkins in the now-completed battle against the Tatars. The Yürkins had not only failed to respond to it but also had the audacity to perpetrate this outrage while he was away at the front.
Temüjin quickly assembled an army to subjugate the Yürkins. This was a prime opportunity to wipe out Seche Beki, Taichu, and others like them. Their crimes were unmistakable. Without giving his relatives a moment to speak, Temüjin launched a surprise attack on the Yürkins along the Kherlen River, captured the brothers Seche Beki and Taichu, and decapita
ted them. He then had all the tents of their lineage moved to his own camp.
In the fighting, Qorchi found another orphaned youngster by the name of Boroghul, brought him back to camp, and presented him to Ö’elün.
“The Yürkins are the boldest among Mongols,” said Qorchi. “Boroghul is destined to be such a one. By the time Temüjin becomes king of the Mongolian plateau, there will be numerous foundlings thronging this tent.”
Qorchi had now begun to throw himself into the job of assembling orphans of conquered peoples. Ö’elün did not so much as wince at Qorchi’s words. She remained steadfastly dedicated to raising these youngsters as Mongols. Küchü, Kököchü, Shigi Qutuqu, and Boroghul were all being reared as brothers in the same yurt.
With the Tatars now having disappeared from the Mongolian plateau, the three separate powers of Temüjin the Mongol, To’oril Khan the Kereyid, and Jamugha the Jadaran divided the 200,000 nomads of the plateau into three groups. In the thirty-ninth year of Temüjin’s life, the allied armies of Temüjin and To’oril Khan would face Jamugha in battle, four years after the subjugation of the Tatars.
The decisive battle with Jamugha was to be a do-or-die, all-out confrontation for both Temüjin and To’oril Khan. Jamugha had gathered under his wings the Qatagin, Salji’ud, Ikires, Gorulas, Naiman, Tayichi’ud, and Oirat peoples, and he had completely absorbed settlements descended from the annihilated Tatars and Merkids. Even Börte’s natal people, the Unggirads, were geographically connected with Jamugha’s holdings.
Jamugha’s forces began the battle. When news of Jamugha’s march reached him, before he had even sorted out whether the report was true, To’oril Khan personally led his entire army to Temüjin’s camp. Temüjin welcomed the old commander into his tent, and they elaborated a plan of operations to repulse the attack of Jamugha’s huge army.
“Anda, before troubles erupt,” proposed To’oril Khan, “we must each send out our best units in equal troop strength to the front.”
“Agreed,” replied Temüjin, and he then sent as advance forces the three units under Altan, Quchar, and Daritai Odchigin. For his part, To’oril Khan selected the units under commanders Senggüm, Jaqa Gambu, and Bilge Beki.
Although it was initially a fairly well-planned strategy, once the fighting commenced, both To’oril Khan and Temüjin continued sending powerful fighting units to the front as needed, irrespective of the personal sacrifices incurred. Temüjin was ultimately left at his base camp with only Jelme’s forces, having already ordered those of Bo’orchu, Qasar, and Belgütei into battle. And To’oril Khan had done the same, ordering all but one unit to the front.
The battle lines spread across a frighteningly broad expanse of terrain. There was fighting along the upper and lower reaches of the Selengge, the Orkhon, the Onon, and the Kherlen rivers. From morning till nightfall, scouts conveyed news from the various zones incessantly. There were reports of victory and of defeat. On the fifth day after the fighting started, both sides saw a decisive battle forming. At the head of a large force, Jamugha began to move along the lower reaches of the Kherlen River.
When he learned this news, Temüjin turned to To’oril Khan and said:
“You stay here, old ‘father.’ I’ll march ahead.”
It was not in Temüjin’s temperament to trust To’oril Khan. Despite his long past as hegemon of the north, To’oril Khan was well into his sixties. Although he might not be able to trust him, Temüjin would probably not have had any chance of success fighting Jamugha alone. Without an all-out battle, victory or defeat could not be determined. Win or lose, both sides had to be prepared, or so it seemed, to incur serious casualties. Yet Temüjin felt he personally would have to go into battle to gain peace of mind.
Responding to Temüjin’s statement, To’oril Khan said:
“Little chicken, why do you take to the field by choice knowing that you may be wiped out? Jamugha is not your principal enemy. I’ll go.”
Temüjin tried to push his own plans further, but To’oril Khan, his slender, pallid face turning deep red, yelled:
“This is a decisive battle—we cannot lose it. Should I entrust it to you? You circle around to the left, and from there attack the Tayichi’uds on the left flank.”
Temüjin had no choice but to yield to To’oril Khan the most difficult war front holding the key to victory. Leading a main force of 10,000 men, To’oril Khan headed toward the lower reaches of the Kherlen River. Temüjin was to command 10,000 troops in an attack on the Tayichi’uds who were trying to protect Jamugha and march toward the middle reaches of the Onon River where he was based.
For the first time, Temüjin was to join battle on an immense scale with his perennial enemies, the Tayichi’uds. Dividing his forces into several groups, he surrounded the Tayichi’uds’ strongholds and then gradually tightened the noose around them. The fighting continued day and night.
During the battle, Temüjin was hit by an enemy arrow at sunset and suffered injury to a vein on his neck. Blood gushed out of the wound, but the fighting continued and with nightfall they were enveloped in darkness, so first aid could not reach him. The fighting ceased in the middle of the night, and Jelme sucked the blood from Temüjin’s wound with his lips. Each time he sucked some blood, he spit it out, and with all his strength he sucked so that not a droplet of poison would remain in Temüjin’s body. By morning, the surface of the earth around them was soaked in dark red blood.
The following morning two men from the surrounded Tayichi’ud settlement moved over to Temüjin’s camp. They were Sorqan Shira, father of Chimbai and Chila’un, and a ruddy-complexioned young man of twenty-five or twenty-six. Temüjin owed Sorqan Shira a favor for having helped him once, and he thus protected the older man. As for the younger man, he launched an interrogation.
“What kind of fighter are you?”
“I’m an archer.”
“Why have you surrendered to us?”
“I’ve run out of arrows.”
“Do you know who the mighty archer was who broke the jawbone of my yellow steed and inflicted this wound on my neck?”
The young man seemed to be thinking for a moment and then replied:
“It was probably me. That was my arrow shot from the top of a hill.”
“Knowing that, I can’t let you live.”
“Fine, kill me then!” he said.
Temüjin, though, was not interested in executing the young man. The radiance in the eyes of this ordinary soldier who, with no consideration for his own safety, responded truthfully reflected beautifully in Temüjin’s own eyes. Parrying Temüjin’s gaze, he refused to avert his eyes and yelled out:
“Cut off my head quickly then and be done with it!”
“Don’t be in such a hurry to die,” said Temüjin. “You can serve at my side. If I issue an order, you are to do whatever I say.”
The young man remained silent, staring intently at Temüjin, who went on: “I shall give you the name Jebe,” meaning weapon.
Now the expression on the young man’s face changed, though he was still quiet. The name Jebe seemed appropriate to everyone assembled there. Not only was he an extremely capable archer, but also his mind was as sharp as an arrowhead. News arrived that evening from To’oril Khan’s camp that Jamugha’s main force had been destroyed and that they were pursuing Jamugha, who was now in flight.
Temüjin thoroughly mopped up the Tayichi’uds. His only regret was that they had been unable to capture their chief, Targhutai, but virtually every member of the lineage had been annihilated, so that the name Tayichi’ud would never again be mentioned by anyone on the Mongolian plateau. From Temüjin’s perspective, the Tayichi’uds were relations of a sort, a people with the same ancestors, but he showed no mercy. Among the prisoners were many from the Borjigin line whose faces he had known from the camp they shared in his youth, and there were even a fair number of close relatives among them, but Temüjin regarded them all as mortal enemies. He accepted none of their appeals or defenses.
“For Tayichi’ud males,” ordered Temüjin, “kill them as far as their descendants’ descendants. Turn them into ashes to be blown away!”
And all men from the Tayichi’ud settlement were beheaded. The women and girls were assembled at a specific site and forced to clean up the execution grounds day in and day out. The only ones in the Tayichi’ud camp who were spared and allowed to join Temüjin’s camp were Sorqan Shira, father of Chimbai and Chila’un, and the young man whom Temüjin had named Jebe.
From the time when the mopping-up operation was nearly complete, the troops began retreating from the battlefield. Bo’orchu, Belgütei, and Qasar returned from the front. Then a number of units under To’oril Khan’s command returned. All of them had distinguished themselves magnificently on the battlefield. The last to return to camp was To’oril Khan’s own unit that had forced Jamugha’s main army into full retreat.
The section of the new battlefield still reeking from the stench of spilled blood was eventually turned over by Temüjin’s and To’oril Khan’s troops. The scene of innumerable warriors digging up the plains as far as the eye could see under a vast blue sky, as they climbed up a hillside, seemed to continually unfold like a luxuriously thick carpet.
On the third day following To’oril Khan’s triumphal return, he and Temüjin went to the edge of a hill that had been prepared for their meeting. They both marched there with an ostentatious guard, but only the two men entered the tent provided for the meeting.
“It’s all very cumbersome,” said To’oril Khan with a forced smile. “Two men cooperate, bring down Jamugha, and notify each other of victories; why do they have to meet in this way?”
Temüjin also had a bitter smile on his face. It was precisely as To’oril Khan had put it. Yet both sides felt the need to do things in this manner.
For now Temüjin and To’oril Khan were the two rulers dividing the Mongolian plateau. What had once been divided in three with Jamugha was now simply divided in two. Although Jamugha was on the run, a large number of the troops formerly under his command had been disarmed by To’oril Khan and awaited judgment in their home settlements.