The Blue Wolf

by Joshua Fogel

  Before Chinggis had finished speaking, Qulan took a step closer to him and gently extended her arm. Chinggis did not respond and his expression grew more severe:

  “Do you know,” he asked, “what it means to take Kölgen on this expedition?”

  “I do.”

  “What?”

  “Great khan, do you not understand my heart? When the princes born to Börte all march to the front, I want my son Kölgen to bask in this same good fortune. Although only three years of age, he must be able to join the army. Great khan, you have granted my most earnest wish. There is nothing else I seek. By joining the army en route to the front, Kölgen may be engulfed in the flames of battle, he may be abandoned among an alien people, but that would be his fate. I am not fearful of this in the least. I did not give birth to Kölgen so that he should become a member of the royalty. As a nameless member of the populace, he sets off, and I wish only that he live by cutting open his own road in life with his own might.”

  Qulan continued to speak in a calm tone of voice, but it was filled with an intense passion. Chinggis gazed at Qulan’s magnificently glittering eyes. He had never loved her so much as he did at this very moment. He too hoped that Kölgen would live his life in such a manner. This was not the love of a Mongol sovereign but that of a father. A man had to make his way in life through great difficulties, like himself and Qasar and Jelme—this was how it had to be for a Mongol wolf.

  From that day until the next, the military units under Chinggis’s command began to deploy from camp according to a prescribed manner and timetable. The first units to set out were those under Jebe’s command and then those under Muqali’s.

  When the right army under the command of his sons, Jochi, Cha’adai, and Ögedei set off, the day was almost over and darkness setting in. Following them, when Qasar’s right army left the settlement in a long file, they were all soon engulfed in darkness. Finally, Chinggis and his son Tolui set off with the central army late in the night. Placing himself in the middle of his troops, Chinggis rode his horse in the bright moonlight.

  And so, 200,000 Mongol troops, following the eastern route, headed for the state of Jin. After a journey of many days across the desert, they would cross any number of mountains and valleys and then be able to see their objective, the Great Wall, certain to mightily impede any invasion, a sight they had once seen earlier when they surrounded the Xixia capital of Zhongxing.

  Occasionally Chinggis looked over his shoulder at the troops behind him to ascertain with his own eyes the overall order of the march. Their spearheads shone dimly in the moonlight, and the line of the light extended across the immense plain like the flow of a river. Somewhere in this flow, Qulan and three-year-old Kölgen were, he knew, in a yurt being pulled by a horse.

  Chinggis had organized his army of 200,000 men invading the Jin in a unique manner. At the lowest level were groups of 10; these came together into military units of 100, 1,000, and 10,000, each of which at their respective levels was supervised by a chief. Veteran generals were assigned as leaders of these larger units of 10,000. Chinggis’s orders could be transmitted to them at any time by his staff, and in no time at all the orders could percolate down from his generals to the many lower-level groupings.

  Having set off from the base camp in the foothills of Mount Burqan, Chinggis’s expeditionary force against the Jin marched south and advanced along the banks of the Kherlen River; after leaving the river route, which on the fifth day took a sharp bend to the east, they reached a corner of the vast wasteland.

  On the day they left the Kherlen, Chinggis was overcome by emotion. He had departed from the Kherlen River two years earlier when they invaded the Xixia and crossed the immense Gobi Desert, but his present mood was altogether different from what he had felt at that time. Waiting for them on the other side of the Gobi was not Xixia but the state of Jin. With terrain many times the size of the Mongols’ and with an army of many times the manpower, the Jin was a civilized state that had built numerous secure citadels and carried on a cultured life of the highest level. It was completely beyond his imagination how the battle would unfold. While he had a certain amount of confidence in victory and all preparations to that end were now complete, he could not sustain this feeling with a clear sense of conviction or surety.

  The flow of the Yellow River, a name he had heard from his childhood, had crossed his line of vision only once, from the Xixia capital of Zhongxing, but that was only the farthest extreme of the most peripheral portion of this massive, living entity. Not a single Mongol soldier could so much as conceive a true image of the Yellow River, which, it was said, moved at the will of the gods over the surface of the earth itself. Likewise, they had once while in Zhongxing seen the Great Wall, which had since antiquity impeded the invasions of northern nomadic peoples, but that was only the westernmost edge of this great beast, fortified in its torso by earth and stone, from which fire arrows burst out everywhere when men approached. Of what was actually on the land surrounded by the Great Wall and the Yellow River, they had no knowledge.

  When as a boy he had heard stories about the Jin from his father, Yisügei, he always imagined it as a huge vat, and in it something was boiling as if naturally. Everything in it was bubbling up because of unquenchable hell fires from ancient times. The best thoughts people had ever attained, technology, the inborn hindrances of men, ignorance, as well as wealth, poverty, warfare, peace, singing and dancing, splendid court ceremonies, wandering refugees, wine shops, theaters, mass slaughter, gambling, lynching, worldly fame, and ruin, any and everything altogether boiled to a pulp. Eerie bubbles appeared and disappeared continuously on the surface of this ghastly effervescent morass. And so did the Mongol khan Hambaghai, nailed to a wooden donkey and flayed while still alive. Almost every year from time immemorial, innocent Mongolian people by the dozens and hundreds had been kidnapped by soldiers of the state of Jin and tossed into this cauldron.

  When they left the course of the Kherlen River, Chinggis himself could not say for certain if he would ever stand on its bank again. This was true not only of Chinggis but also of his 200,000 troops. Standing on a small bluff one morning, Chinggis caught the last sight of the Kherlen flowing at daybreak. He then issued marching orders to all the troops under his command. Although it was already the middle of the third month of the year, corresponding roughly to April, the region they were in was still trapped in a deep winter’s sleep, and whenever they stopped the freezing weather pierced their skin and penetrated their bones.

  At about the same time that Chinggis’s troops were to leave camp, Jebe’s forces set off, and then slightly later, on parallel courses, the forces under the commands of Sübe’etei and Muqali decamped. The day was about to dawn, but light from the torches still being held aloft by the soldiers could be seen here and there. The troop disposition of the various divisions differed slightly at the time of departure from camp. Innumerable sheep, camels, horses, and other livestock were absorbed among the cavalry, making the units that much larger. Camels had the task of transporting foodstuffs (primarily meat and milk) and weaponry, while sheep were brought along as a source of food during their trek across the desert. Although the horses served as remounts for the troops, they had a great number, from two or three to as many as six or seven per man. Accordingly, as far as the eye could see, numerous files of troops extending over the desert terrain had long bands of domesticated animals with them.

  Each of the soldiers was wearing a leather helmet covering the majority of his head and leather military garb over his body. Each bore a long spear in hand and wore a sword and arrows at the waist, with his bow tied to his horse.

  From that day forward, Chinggis rode in an immense yurt as he marched his troops. The yurt was moved on four wheels, drawn by several dozen horses. On either side he was protected by mounted guard troops, and numerous Borjigin banners enveloped the vehicle.

  For several days the troops saw nothing whatsoever resembling a tree. All around them stretched a
dry, sandy plain, and if anything broke the monotony of the scenery, it was a denuded hillside, the reddish-black hue of rust, or salt water lakes of varying sizes, which appeared from time to time en route.

  Continuing their forced march for roughly two weeks, they emerged from the desert onto the plateau region and eventually pushed their way into a spur of the rugged Yinshan mountain range. From around the time they entered this mountainous region, the troops began whispering the name of the town of Datong—never so much as even stated before—among themselves. Until then they had mentioned the name of Zhongdu [Beijing] and had been primarily concerned with reaching it, but at some point the new toponym of Datong had replaced Zhongdu, frequently on everyone’s lips. It made no great difference to the troops whether the object was Zhongdu or Datong. Both were names of unknown cities in an unknown country—they didn’t even know what direction the two cities lay in.

  After marching 430 miles, the expeditionary forces led by Chinggis entered a settlement of the Önggüd people, who held sway over the northern side of the Great Wall. Although the Önggüds were one of the nomadic peoples of the Mongolian plateau, they neighbored the state of Jin and were completely under Jin control. Thus, Chinggis considered them a separate ethnicity. The Önggüds had never seen such a huge army as now thoroughly enveloped their settlement, and in blank amazement had no idea what to do. The Önggüd chief pledged fealty to Chinggis and offered personally to lead the troops invading the Jin.

  A number of Mongol battalions that had come together to form one powerful unit now split up and headed for discrete objectives. This, of course, applied to the units under Jebe, Sübe’etei, and Muqali; the right army led by Chinggis’s three sons, Jochi, Cha’adai, and Ögedei, to which Bo’orchu had been attached in a guardian function; and the left army under the command of Qasar, to which Jelme had been added—they all proceeded from the Önggüd settlement with several days between them. Only the central army under Chinggis and his son Tolui stayed back at the Önggüd village.

  At about the same time, war broke out in the mountains and fields to the north of the Great Wall. The scene on various fronts was conveyed on a daily basis by horseback to Chinggis’s base camp. He ordered his armies to mop up Jin terrain north of the Great Wall, and forbid them to invade deep into the Jin state on their own.

  In the middle of the sixth month of that year, news reached Chinggis’s base that a great Jin army had left Zhongdu and was heading for Shanxi province. Chinggis had drawn out the main force of the Jin, and he destroyed it, and thence set a policy to begin a full-fledged invasion. He knew the time was drawing near.

  He dispatched Jebe with an urgent message ordering the central army under his command to mobilize. On the eve of their departure, Chinggis summoned Qulan to his tent and asked her if she would remain there until the end of the battle against the main Jin force.

  “Great khan,” she replied, “are you about to cross the Great Wall alone and leave me and Kölgen here? If so, then how is that any different from discarding us at the camp by the Kherlen River?”

  “Then go with me into the conflagrations of battle,” said Chinggis. “From tomorrow, three soldiers will be attached to you and Kölgen. Death will swoop down on the two of you continuously. You will have to protect yourselves.”

  Chinggis then called upon three soldiers with whom he had made prior arrangements and presented Qulan to them. One was an older man, the other two young. Three-year-old Kölgen was placed in one of the leather saddlebags hanging by the side of the older man’s horse and set off to join his unit.

  The troops departing from the Önggüd settlement early the following morning immediately came upon mountainous terrain along the southeastern portion of the village. They were all organized into a cavalry force, and every soldier was leading a remount as well. Qulan too was wearing leather armor and helmet and had a remount, and sat astride a white horse amid her guards.

  One the second day, the troops reached a point about a half day’s journey from the Great Wall and there paused at sunset. The soldiers had by now filled up the valleys of the mountains that spread out in overlapping, undulating fashion. They took a short rest that evening, and then late at night resumed their march, listening to the chirping sounds of nocturnal birds. The fighting began in the middle of this night. Jin troops guarding the stronghold along the line of the Great Wall first launched an attack of arrows against them.

  Although it seemed as though the troop strength on the stronghold was less than half that of Mongols, they were unable to advance their invading army to the Great Wall because of its impregnability. Chinggis spread troops out along the line of the wall in an effort to seize control over one corner of it, in any location. War cries arose in every valley and on every mountain peak, but were met everywhere with ferocious resistance.

  The fighting continued for an entire day and night, and after nightfall the forces under big-headed Chimbai held fast to a point on the Great Wall, while losing over half of their men. For the first time, a Mongol flag flew atop a corridor of the Great Wall. From this point forward the fighting unfolded at both the corridors and the stronghold of the wall, and at a number of sites Mongol troops climbed up to the Great Wall’s stronghold.

  While the fighting continued, at a site several hundred yards to the southwest, the wall was substantially demolished. The reverberations of bows and arrows mixed with battle cries, and the sound of immense boulders tumbling repeatedly into the valleys below could clearly be heard.

  Late in the night Mongol troops crossed the Great Wall through the breach thus opened and rushed inside. Atop the Great Wall the wind was fierce. It seemed to howl as if being torn to pieces right up to the moon. Astride his horse, Chinggis stood on top of the stone corridor of the Great Wall and from there watched when the endless rows of cavalrymen crossed over the wall, one after the next. The moonlit night revealed other stone corridors before and behind where he stood that curved and meandered along a long line. In front of him was a steep slope, as the corridor rose from one high point to the next as if ascending into a corner of the sky. Behind him it extended gently on level ground, but about thirty yards in front of them it suddenly broke off and disappeared. A portion farther ahead abruptly abutted the summit of a rocky hill beyond two smaller prominences. Although Chinggis couldn’t see it from where he was standing, there was an incline on the far side of that hill, and the Great Wall’s corridor swelled up immensely there like a snake’s torso after it had swallowed a frog. It was this site that formed the stronghold where the deadly fighting back and forth had continued since the previous night.

  To calm down his impatient horse, Chinggis continuously patted its head. There was ample reason for the horse to be impatient. Unlike the outside edge of the Great Wall, the inside edge led to a gentle sloping terrain, and the cavalry troops who had crossed the corridor galloped down the incline as though they were releasing all at once a force that had been held in check. The trees covering the nearby mountains were all bent low because of the wind, and the troops dashing though them could thus be fully seen in the moonlight.

  For a long time now, Chinggis had dreamed of the day when, drenched in the moonlight, Mongol soldiers would cross the Great Wall of China, and now this dream was coming to fruition before his very eyes. Yet while the scene so long depicted in his mind’s eye was a rather quiet one painted in bluish hues, the crossing of the Great Wall that he was now seeing was unfolding in a raging wind. The defensive power of the stronghold, the pain at the time of its seizure, and the forging of an invasion route through it after demolishing a section of the wall, to say nothing of the fact that this was all occurring under a moonlit sky as bright as midday, were all for Chinggis precisely as he had imagined them to be. Exactly the same. Only the wind had not been pictured. He had not envisioned such a ferocious wind howling, pounding heaven and earth. The wind seemed always to howl here as it was now. This stone rampart severely obstructing both nomadic and agrarian peoples for hundreds of
years, impenetrable, continued to resound in the forceful wind that had blown down from a corner of heaven for centuries as well.

  Until dawn, Chinggis stood on the corridor of the Great Wall. A long period of time elapsed before a huge army of several tens of thousands of cavalrymen and a roughly equal number of horses and camels had completely scaled the wall. As dawn neared, Chinggis’s guard troops were the final soldiers to surmount the Great Wall, and Chinggis was among them. Then, as all the other subordinate troops had done, he and his horse galloped down the steep mountain incline inside.

  About ten days later, Chinggis ambushed and defeated a large force under the command of Ding Xue, a Jin general, in the first battle to be fought on the enemy’s home terrain. As a result, the Mongols occupied the area of the two counties of Dashuiluo and Fengli.

  A few days after the central army under Chinggis’s command crossed over the Great Wall, a report arrived stating that the first army under Jebe had crossed at a different site and captured the stronghold at Wushabao [in present-day Hubei province]. As if to follow this up, about two weeks later, the news of a victorious massacre at Wuyueying arrived.

  Chinggis learned that his own troops and those of Jebe had encircled en masse from two sides the strategic site of Datong in Shanxi province. Chinggis did not rush to attack Datong. He spent the hot days of summer calming the people’s concerns in the area under siege and allowing his troops and horses a respite. With the fighting only just begun, Mongol troops had crossed the Great Wall and stepped foot only in a small corner of Shanxi. Clearly battles would be fought for years to come.

  The two units under Muqali and Sübe’etei had been charged with capturing the fortresses north of the Great Wall. The role assigned them was the most laborious and had shown the fewest results. The steep hills that formed a natural fortification guarding Zhongdu and the numerous strongholds scattered around the region severely impeded the onslaught of these two commanders. Chinggis had given this most difficult of tasks to his two brave commanders. He received continual reports from both armies, and each communication included news of victory, but the pace of their advance was extremely slow. Every inch of terrain required a number of days.