The Blue Wolf

by Joshua Fogel

  It was a day when the sun was obscured by clouds and everything in nature was turning ashen in color. Temüjin stood face to face with Jamugha in front of his tent. Twelve years had passed since his bitter defeat in battle against Jamugha when each of them commanded some 30,000 men. And it had been four years since he had gone on to ally with the late To’oril Khan and defeat Jamugha. Many years had passed since Temüjin had seen this man in the flesh.

  He stared fixedly at Jamugha’s face. His mien had changed so much he resembled another person altogether. He had had a round face in the past, but now it had become sallow with prominent cheekbones. One thing remained exactly as it had been—he was smiling.

  Before speaking to Jamugha, Temüjin grilled the five underlings who came fettered to him to ascertain facts. Jamugha had fought against Sübe’etei’s forces and repeatedly been defeated until only these five subordinates remained. In the end, these men had the misfortune to be tied up to him. Asking why he should let men who had laid hands upon their master live, Temüjin had the five men fettered to Jamugha beheaded on the spot, right before Jamugha’s eyes.

  Temüjin lifted Jamugha from the ground where he was sitting and put him in a chair. He then said:

  “My anda, Jamugha, we are friends. We once lived in the same settlement. Despite that, you separated yourself from me, and you were for a long time my enemy. But we are again together today. I clearly recall the day on which we swore our blood-brother anda pact by the Qorqonaq Valley. The commotion of the banquet still rings in my ears, and the color of the fire that night is reflected in my eyes even today. We swore our pact that day. We are still friends.”

  Temüjin did not have the heart to execute Jamugha. He thought of moral obligations from years past and wondered if he might spare the life of this now powerless man.

  Jamugha then replied:

  “Anda, Temüjin. I am your friend now, but what value do I have for you? I am not thinking that I lost to you. My defeat at your hands was heaven’s will. To the extent that I am living, I wished and believed that the day would come when you fell. You should quickly put an end to me. If you have some feeling for me as your anda, then kill me without shedding my blood and bury my corpse on a hilltop.”

  “So be it, anda Jamugha,” replied Temüjin with a minimum of words. “I would forgive you, but because of the embarrassment to you, you shall be put to death just as you have requested it.” Then he turned to his aide and said:

  “Execute him without shedding blood. Do not dispose of the corpse in front of me. And bury him with full honors.” Temüjin then stood up from his seat. He remained shut up in his tent all day long.

  Sübe’etei accomplished his mission fully in half a year and appeared before Temüjin with a sunburned face. He had captured all the sons of the enemy leaders and executed all of them, right down to the infants. The items taken from the Naimans were all rare and extraordinary for the Mongols. Precious stones, carpets, clothing, weaponry, and the like formed several immense piles at Temüjin’s base.

  Amid the stack of precious jewels, Temüjin tried to take one he wanted for Qulan, but she stared into his face and said:

  “These beautiful things, rare objects, and valuable items you should send to Börte, who is taking care of things in your absence on the other side of the Altai Mountains. I don’t need a single stone or a single piece of cloth. All I wish for is one thing. Henceforth, whenever you go out to take the field, please keep me by your side.”

  Temüjin agreed. The embroidery, carpets, precious stones, and furniture from foreign lands were all tied to the backs of horses, and under special guard went back over the Altai Mountains to be delivered to the yurts in the foothills of Mount Burqan.

  4

  Temüjin Becomes Chinggis Khan

  TEMÜJIN’S TRIUMPHAL RETURN TO his camp following the conquest of the Naimans took place in the spring of 1206. The Naimans’ defeat meant that he had now fully pacified all of the peoples who built their settlements across the entire Mongolian plateau. He was literally the sole power holder, the sole king, on the plateau.

  Soon after his return home, Temüjin set up a great banner with nine white tails—nine being a divine number to the Mongols and white considered an auspicious color—outside their camp on the upper reaches of the Onon River. It was essential to declare to all the peoples scattered across the entire terrain of the Mongolian plateau that he, Temüjin, was now khan of all Mongolia. Of necessity the ceremony was both grand and extremely solemn.

  From about one month before this ceremony was carried out, the entire area surrounding the encampment was a scene of unprecedented congestion and disorder. Foodstuffs and other goods sent in on horseback by many peoples for the glorious event were arriving on virtually a daily basis, and laborers sent by these peoples were hard at work building stands for the audience in the broad pasture-land outside the settlement. And for many days prior to the event, women were preparing food. Several dozen cauldrons were lined up in rows, and several dozen racks on which mutton was hanging were built beside them. In addition, an extraordinary number of pots of fermented mare’s milk were all laid out on the ground with a curtain covering them. With the ceremony only a few days off, the settlement was filled with the aromas of fermented mare’s milk and lambs’ fat boiling. Temüjin’s tent was rebuilt so high that it seemed to soar right into the sky, and a window at the top, when looked up at from below, appeared distant and tiny.

  The site of the event was to be in front of Temüjin’s new, large tent. The immense banner with nine tails had been installed, and the May wind was gently blowing the white hairs attached to it.

  The big day arrived. The several thousand people permitted to participate in the grand ceremony crammed into the open area before the soaring tent. In the stands built on several levels surrounding the ceremonial site, crowds numbering in the tens of thousands gathered from all over the plateau to observe.

  At the appointed time, Temüjin assumed his appointed position. At his right side were his mother, Ö’elün, his wife, Börte, and his four children, Jochi, Cha’adai, Ögedei, and Tolui; behind them numerous concubines were arrayed. Only Qulan had been assigned a place in the front row, while Yisügen and Yisüi had been given seats in the rear. The alien foundlings raised by Ö’elün—Shigi Qutuqu, Boroghul, Küchü, and Kököchü—had all grown up into vigorous young men and were lined up in the rear as well.

  To Temüjin’s left were his younger siblings, Qasar, Belgütei, Qachi’un, Temüge, and Temülün, and by their side were his high officials, Bo’orchu and Jelme, as well as his commanders, Chimbai, Chila’un, Jebe, Muqali, Sübe’etei, and Qubilai Noyan, and the elderly Münglig and Sorqan Shira.

  The great deliberative body comprising the leaders of the various Mongolian peoples—the Quriltai—was convened in an earnest, formal manner. The elders of all these peoples resolved to install Temüjin as ruler of all Mongolia, and at that point a thoroughly unfamiliar name was called out by all the elders:

  “Chinggis Khan! Chinggis Khan! Chinggis Khan!”

  This was the appellation for the khan or sovereign of Mongolia respectfully being offered to Temüjin. It bore the meaning of a magnificent ruler. From this time forward, all the settlements over the entire Mongolian plateau were united under the name of Mongolia. Chinggis Khan stood up from his seat. Cheers rang out from the site of the ceremony as well as from the assemblage surrounding it.

  “Chinggis Khan! Chinggis Khan!”

  At the top of their lungs, one and all called out the name of Chinggis Khan. He responded by raising his hand. He was forty-four years old. His hair had already turned half gray, while his mustache and beard remained black. Unlike when he had been a young man, his torso was now corpulent and he showed signs of slowing down.

  More than at any time in the past, however, Chinggis Khan’s entire body was full to overflowing with his own vigorous will. Mongolia had now taken on the form of a state. Gradually it was preparing to contest its archrival, the J
in, on the battlefield, something heretofore almost unthinkable, though now not beyond all expectation.

  Bathed in the cheering voices of the assembled crowd, Chinggis Khan tried to envision in his own mind the position in which he was now standing. This was not a small piece of territory, from beyond the Altai Mountains all the way to the Xing’an mountain range. From the area around Lake Baikal in the north across the barren terrain of the Gobi Desert to the south, it extended to the Great Wall of China. Nearly two million nomads were scattered over the great expanse of the Mongolian plateau. Representatives of all of its settlements had now gathered here and were hailing him as their khan, their great ruler.

  Had he so wished it, Chinggis Khan would have been able to call together all the nomads and cross the Great Wall. Chinggis was coming to believe that he actually would do this. If he was indeed a descendant of the blue wolf, he had to do it.

  The sky was wide, blue, and clear. From the moment when Chinggis stood up in response to the cheers of the crowd, the sunlight had gradually begun to grow stronger and sharper. Facing the multitudes over which the commotion was spreading, he attempted to make his first speech as great khan. To quiet the tumult of the crowd, he waved his hand furiously. No matter how hard he waved, though, the excitement continued to hold sway over the throngs of people.

  “There was a blue wolf born with a destiny set by heaven. There was a pale doe who came across a great lake in the west. These two creatures mated and gave birth to Batachiqan, ancestor of the Mongols. Mongols are the descendants of the blue wolf. The twenty-one peoples who encamp on the Mongolian plateau have cohered as a single force today around this blue wolf. At your recommendation, I now have acceded to the position of khan. A pack of wolves, we must cross the Xing’an Mountains, the Altai Mountains, Mount Tianshan, and the Qilian Mountains. We must do this to make all the camps on the Mongolian plateau nobler and more respectable. We must make for ourselves richer lives, richer enjoyments, and richer work than we have ever imagined before. If we wish all this for ourselves, can we live in stationary homes and be able to follow the flocks of sheep without moving with them? Your new khan has been authorized to issue to you all manner of orders to achieve this. Have trust in me! Carry out the orders I give, my courageous and fierce wolves of the new Mongolian state!”

  Chinggis then ordered the banquet festivities open. Food and drink were brought out not only at the site of the ceremony itself but as far as the gallery around which the crowds thronged. The din of the feast continued day and night. During the daytime, virtually every day, the distinctive martial arts of the twenty-one peoples and numerous lineages were introduced, songs were sung in altogether different melodies and languages, and dances were performed. At nighttime, almost every night, a glowing moon came out. Several dozen bonfires were lit in the open area before Chinggis Khan’s tent, as the drinking and eating continued unabated. People were drunk, people were dancing, and people were singing. The festive mood was unrestrained with no sense of hierarchy among the revelers.

  On the third night, Chinggis noticed some old women in shabby clothing dancing with strange hand movements. Their song and dance concerned driving the flocks of sheep, and they repeated it over and over again without becoming weary. Chinggis suddenly realized that the movements were penetrating his own body. The women were poor, unsightly creatures whose appearance in no way resembled the pale doe. His thought was they would have to have more attractive clothing, and far more songs and dances to perform.

  Inside his tent, Chinggis continued to be unnerved by the revelry of the festivities. In the midst of it all, he was overcome by an acute sense that Mongol men needed to have ever more intense training like wolves and Mongol women needed to be adorned in finer clothing like does.

  On the final day of the long celebratory banquet, Chinggis announced to his subordinates the distribution of rewards about which he had been thinking while the festivities had been under way. On that day Chinggis first ordered that 95 men who had worked with him for many years be named chiefs of 1,000 households. They included Bo’orchu, Münglig, Muqali, Jelme, and Sorqan Shira. It was expected that from these 95 would be selected chiefs of 10,000 households.

  When he turned to passing out honors, Chinggis sent attendants to summon to his tent specific individuals certain to be present somewhere across the wide grounds. The first to be so called were Bo’orchu and Muqali. Temüjin grasped Bo’orchu’s hand and said:

  “Friend, until this point in time, I have not expressed my thanks to you. You are my oldest friend who has sacrificed everything to work on my behalf.”

  He remembered fondly the day when a young Bo’orchu helped him retrieve eight stolen horses.

  “Friend, your father, Naqu Bayan, is a wealthy man. You have abandoned the position of heir to a wealthy family and traveled a difficult path with me to this point. Bo’orchu, you shall control 10,000 households in the region of the Altai Mountains.”

  This was a gift so generous that Bo’orchu himself was stunned. Chinggis continued:

  “Muqali, you shall control 10,000 households in the region of the Xing’an mountain range.”

  The young commander remained expressionless and silent in the face of the extraordinary reward given to him. When Chinggis had attacked his relatives Seche Beki and Taichu, a man by the name of Kü’ün U’a came to join Chinggis’s camp along with two young men—one of whom was Muqali. At the time of the attack on the Naimans, he had distinguished himself on the field of battle, but unlike other such young men, he had a sincerity of character that had won the confidence of all the men fighting under him. Chinggis had selected this young commander. While Bo’orchu’s achievements were in the past, in Muqali’s case expectations ran high into the future. Chinggis named the young commander to lead the subsequent attack on the Jin. All Chinggis said was:

  “You shall soon lead one million wolves and cross the Great Wall.”

  Expressionless, Muqali merely bowed his head.

  Third to be called was the old man Qorchi. This old-timer who had once predicted that Temüjin would in future become khan of all Mongolia had not taken part in the fighting, but having been relieved of military duties, he had spent the past ten years in utter idleness. Qorchi had not even been given a seat at the installation ceremony, but had set up a chair before his tent and watched the daily hustle-bustle of the banquet as a bystander.

  Qorchi made his way before Chinggis on legs that had in recent years become dangerously infirm.

  “Prognosticator Qorchi,” said Chinggis with deep affection. He remembered clearly when this old man—at the most difficult time, when he too had left Jamugha’s camp—stood before him one night with a bright red face. The prophetic words uttered by this old man that night had now come to pass. Chinggis understood full well just how mightily influential on himself Qorchi’s forecast had been.

  “At that time, you said that if I were to become khan of all Mongolia, you wanted thirty beautiful women. I shall now fulfill for you that promise. You are an extraordinary, lecherous prognosticator! Go ahead and select for yourself thirty beautiful women.”

  Qorchi slowly moved the muscles of his even more deeply wrinkled face and said:

  “Qorchi has now grown old. However, with thirty beautiful women, perhaps I shall grow young again.” A quiet smile appeared on his face.

  “In addition to thirty women,” said Chinggis, “you shall take control over 10,000 households combining the Chinos, Tö’ölös, and Telenggüd lineages of the Adarkins. And you shall take control over the People of the Forest who live at the delta of the Erdish River.”

  Slowly bending his knees, Qorchi sat down on the ground. Suddenly the weight of the people of 10,000 households resting on his slender shoulders left him unable to stand any longer. With help from two assistants on either side, Qorchi lumbered off to his own small tent among the assembled masses of people.

  After Qorchi had departed from his presence, Chinggis clarified the nature of Qorchi’s pow
ers further:

  “Without Qorchi’s permission, the People of the Forest may not move eastward. In all affairs, they are to consult Qorchi and receive his orders.”

  Each time words emerged from Chinggis’s lips, a din went through the multitudes assembled around the ceremonial site. Chinggis’s words spread through the crowd from one person to the next in relay fashion, and cheers and shouts then flowed over the site like rippling waves. The next brave fighter to come before Chinggis Khan was Qubilai Noyan. He was a young, dauntless commander on a par with Jelme, Jebe, and Sübe’etei, and he had never lost a battle.

  “Qubilai, you shall take charge of all affairs concerning the army.”

  Although thoroughly satisfied by the reward he received, for his part Qubilai wanted to be assigned a more vigorous posting, even if lower in rank, directly linked to fighting. To be sure, his thinking did not at this time go so far as desiring the wildly immense authority to be able to dispatch an army of one million strong to various foreign lands.

  “Fight on! Fight on!” murmured this Mongol wolf. He was just over thirty years of age and was a bit dissatisfied as he withdrew from before Chinggis.

  Then Jelme came forward. The young man who had descended from Mount Burqan together with his father, carrying a pair of bellows on his shoulders, was nearing fifty years of age. He was a trusted retainer to Chinggis, second only to Bo’orchu.

  “Friend,” said Chinggis, “it would take me many days to recount all your meritorious deeds. When I was born, your father presented you to us with swaddling clothes made of wolf’s fur. I should now like to offer you a gift in return. Among all the peoples of the Mongols, if Jelme alone commits offenses nine times, he shall not be punished.”

  Chinggis had not yet decided on a position to offer this friend. Were he to give him a large piece of territory or an especially wide range of authority, it seemed too small for Jelme.

  “Jelme,” continued Chinggis, “as for the position you shall assume and the range of your powers, let the two of us think about this together.”