The Blue Wolf

by Joshua Fogel

  It would be difficult to say that Jochi, Cha’adai, and Ögedei hoped to survive the coming battle. The situation was no different for their youngest brother, Tolui. Chinggis thought that Tolui, although only just twenty years of age, could be given a unit to command on the battlefield. He assigned himself to the same unit, but once they reached the front they might suffer different fates, each not knowing what might have become of the other.

  Without answering Qulan, Chinggis left her tent. After returning to his own, he kept to himself for a long period of time, keeping everyone at a distance. If all four sons he had sired with Börte were to meet death on the field of battle—something entirely within the realm of the possible—then in what position would that leave Kölgen, the child born to himself and Qulan?

  As a father, Chinggis of course loved his son Kölgen. This child was born when Chinggis was already older, and he was born to his beloved Qulan. Although Chinggis had not clearly expressed it, Kölgen was more precious to him than any of his other sons. The proposition that Kölgen, still a young child, might go off to the front just like his half-brothers and he alone survive was altogether different than the notion that he should not proceed to the front at all and survive in a settlement somewhere.

  An image of Börte’s face floated into Chinggis’s mind. For so many years, she had shared his troubles, and now, as if she were with him, he was staring fixedly at a point in space where he saw the visage of Börte, his legal wife, whom he had left behind in her tent at Mount Burqan. Chinggis did not fear her, but he could not erase the image of her from before him.

  Chinggis had once walked around inside his tent, not sleeping a wink the entire night, wondering if he should seize the shaman priest Teb Tenggeri or his own younger brother Qasar. Now, he had again shut himself up in his own tent since midday and did not leave until after it was enveloped completely in darkness. Late that night, Chinggis called to an aide and instructed him to summon Sorqan Shira, father of his two commanders, Chimbai and Chila’un. Eventually, the old man, now in his mid-seventies, brought his thin, weary body before Chinggis. Staring at Sorqan Shira’s face, Chinggis said:

  “Old man. When I was a lad taken captive by the Tayichi’uds, you saved my life. Will you do something for me one more time?”

  “If the great khan orders it,” he replied, “Sorqan Shira has no choice but to obey.”

  When the old man had spoken, Chinggis’s own words emerged in brief phrases, the conclusion to his thinking from midday to nighttime.

  “Sorqan Shira, go now directly to Qulan’s tent and take Kölgen. Give Kölgen to some anonymous member of the Mongolian people to be raised as such. Under no circumstance must you reveal that Kölgen is my child.”

  Hearing these words, the color of Sorqan Shira’s face, which never revealed an ordinary emotion, changed.

  “Go to the princess’s tent and seize the prince. Give the prince to a nameless member of the Mongolian people, to be raised. Do not inform anyone of the prince’s identity,” Sorqan Shira repeated in a low voice, as though rehearsing in his own words what the great khan had just said.

  “And do not tell Qulan to whom you have entrusted Kölgen as parents,” added Chinggis. “Do not tell me either. This will be something that only Sorqan Shira on this earth shall know.”

  Sorqan Shira again repeated his instructions, said, “Um” and groaned briefly, stumbling a bit under the weight of his assignment, and then left.

  The next day Chinggis visited Qulan’s tent. When the sound of his footsteps reached the tent, he called to her:

  “Qulan, you will now proceed with me to the field of battle. Upon the invasion of the state of Jin, I shall give you the honor of being the only woman to be part of the army.”

  Qulan stiffened her pale features and replied in a low voice:

  “I respectfully accept your command.”

  After this she said nothing, but she had been stunned by the immense impact the words she had uttered the previous day had unintentionally had, and was overwhelmingly shattered in body and soul. The indolence and cowardice taking root in her beloved Kölgen, who had so quickly and without any warning captivated her, had now visited a severe fate upon her with the seizure, equally without warning, of her adored son.

  “Make preparations for departure quickly,” said Chinggis.

  “They are already made,” replied Qulan. “Great khan,” she added as she raised her dejected face, “you have thrown the child made by myself and the great khan into the vast sea. I may never see Kölgen again.”

  Her tone was rather subdued.

  “If Kölgen possesses the superior qualities of a man,” responded Chinggis, “he will surely grow up and become a Mongol wolf, surpass others, and make a name for himself—not because you have been treated as a Mongol princess or because you raised Kölgen as a Mongol prince. Qulan, you will be with me forever as my fine servant. Furthermore, we shall see to it that Kölgen will be reared on the basis of his own capacities as a son of the Mongolian masses.”

  As he spoke these words, Chinggis found that he too was stricken by an inexplicable emotion that made him shudder. He now understood for the first time the import of the cruel measure he had taken on behalf of Kölgen. Although he knew that he was desperately trying to protect both Qulan whom he loved and Kölgen whom he loved, unfortunately he had been unable to put that feeling into words to Qulan. There was really nothing he could do, he reasoned, if she did not understand the arrangement he had made.

  No sooner had he spoken the words than she, who was like a precious gem, disappeared without a trace. From that moment until the day the troops began to march, no one saw her. Chinggis was absorbed in military business and had no time to visit Qulan’s tent. When the troops departed from camp, Qulan was on horseback by Chinggis’s side. For three days and three nights Qulan wept nonstop until her lachrymal glands were completely dried out and not another tear could be shed. Neither Chinggis nor Qulan thenceforth so much as uttered a syllable of Kölgen’s name.

  En route to the invasion of Zhongdu, the central army under Chinggis’s leadership captured a number of citadels scattered along the way. All of them had earlier been captured by Muqali, and after the Mongol forces retreated, they fell back into the hands of Jin troops. Chinggis’s forces attacked and seized Xuande and then surrounded Dexing. During the fighting, he put his son Tolui in charge of the Dexing army of occupation. Orders were strict. At the head of his army in a tough fight, Tolui and his men climbed up the city’s ramparts and staked Borjigin banners along it.

  Chinggis marched his army on and attempted to take the city of Huailai. On the way he came upon a huge army of crack Jin troops under the command of Left Army Supervisor Gao Qi, and after a ferocious battle lasting three days and nights, overcame them.

  Without so much as a respite, Chinggis marched his troops on and pressed close to Juyong Pass, but he learned that a large Jin force was stationed there, and fearing heavy casualties, he changed direction and crossed the Great Wall far west of the pass. They proceeded to bring down a number of fortresses and inflict defeats on the Jin army. When they emerged on the Hebei plain, they promptly occupied the two walled towns of Zhuozhou and Yizhou. Zhongdu was but a stone’s throw away. The Mongol cavalry continued its march amid gale winds and thunderclaps. Looking north, Chinggis deployed his troops for Zhongdu.

  Chinggis met up at Yizhou with Jebe’s forces, who had marched all the way from Liaoyang. Less than two months had passed since he had issued the orders to Jebe in the rear to invade Jin terrain. Without resting, Jebe left Yizhou and led an attack on the Juyong Pass from within the Great Wall, and eventually his troops succeeded in capturing it. This was his second seizure of the Juyong Pass. Leaving Zhongdu alone for now, Chinggis advanced his forces to the Yellow River basin and overran the Shandong region.

  During this period, the right army under the command of Jochi moved, as ordered, to fight in the mountainous area of Shanxi. They captured all of the walled towns in
the province, moved on to the Hebei plain, and then appeared at will throughout Shanxi and Hebei. The cavalry unit of the left army under Qasar raced back and forth searching for the enemy on terrain west of the Liao River.

  Thus, several hundred Mongol cavalry troops trampled Jin territory under their horses’ hoofs. From this year through the spring of 1214, they despoiled ninety cities and planted Borjigin banners upon the walls of every one of them.

  In the fourth month of the year, Chinggis issued orders to his entire army, spread out across various sites on Jin terrain, to coalesce on the outskirts of Zhongdu. On a virtually daily basis thereafter for over a month, Mongol horsemen from both south and north of the Hebei plain, as well as from the east and west, raised a blinding sandstorm from all directions and emerged in the middle of it. The plain to the west of Zhongdu was densely covered with Mongol troops. Numbering 200,000 when they had set out from the Mongolian plateau, they had grown to more than twice that now. Half of them were surrendered Jin troops.

  Chinggis and his commanders met for the first time in fifteen months in a corner of the plain overlooking the city of Zhongdu. Like a small island in the great sea, Zhongdu alone had escaped being captured and lay there before their eyes. Within this city, there was ceaseless strife, with apprehension inviting further apprehension, continual assassinations, and power holders changing one after the next.

  Chinggis dispatched two emissaries to this last Jin city whose life was hanging by a thread. A signed letter to the Jin emperor was entrusted to them:

  —All of your territory north of the Yellow River has now fallen into our hands, and all that remains is Zhongdu alone. It is heaven that has caused you to be reduced to such weakness. Should I press closer to you? I fear that I would incur heaven’s anger. I am about to pull my troops back. You should provide my troops with comfort and thanks, which will calm the hostility of my commanders.

  Although the tone was intended not to injure the honor of the Jin emperor, the letter was nonetheless plainly advice to surrender. When Chinggis selected the messenger to carry the letter, he much regretted that Boroghul, the foundling his mother Ö’elün had raised, was no longer alive. Chinggis felt again the long-dormant sorrow of Boroghul’s loss when he was sent to rescue Qorchi.

  In reply, the Jin emperor conveyed his acceptance of Chinggis’s offer and the will to conclude a peace. Commander Muqali and Chinggis’s eldest son, Jochi, proceeded to Zhongdu as representatives of the great khan and discussed peace. It was called “peace,” but it was in substance surrender by the Jin.

  Chinggis demanded a royal princess but nothing else. There was no need. With the 200,000 Jin troops incorporated into his army came enormous quantities of items collected in the 90 cities aside from Zhongdu—weapons, agricultural implements, horse gear, and clothing and related ornaments. Had something been sought in Zhongdu just before the fall of the city, it would have been a princess. In place of carpets and bedding, Chinggis had to spread over his bed a woman of the imperial house of the great Jin state. Revenge for the gruesome manner in which Hambaghai Khan had been murdered would be borne by a single young daughter of the Jin emperor.

  Several days after the peace discussions came to an end, Hatun, a daughter of the former Jin emperor Wanyan Shengguo [Taizong, d. 1135] was sent to Chinggis’s camp together with an immense quantity of gold, numerous valuables, 500 boys and 500 girls, and 3,000 horses.

  Gathering up this extraordinary booty, Chinggis ordered his entire army to withdraw from the Jin. At the head of his troops, Chinggis started from Juyong Pass to the vast north. On this day the wind was blowing fiercely at the Great Wall, and the trees along the corridors of the wall were rustling and shaking, being torn to pieces. When he brought his horse to a halt at the corridor, Chinggis observed his long line of troops, who never knew how long they would march, and said to Jebe, who was serving at his side:

  “We’ll be able to cross more comfortably at Juyong Pass, because of you.” The commander who had attacked and taken Juyong Pass twice, once from the north and once from the south, made a watchful eye and said, laughing:

  “I wonder how many more times Jebe will have to capture the Juyong Pass?”

  Chinggis laughed as well. Their laughter immediately vanished, usurped by the wind, and neither’s voice reached the other’s ears. As Jebe had said, Chinggis did not believe that he had brought the immense apparition known as the state of Jin under his personal control for all time. Chinggis himself could not say if he would be able completely to conquer the Jin.

  Grand Councilor Wanyan Fuxing of the Jin came to escort the invaders as far as north of the Juyong Pass.

  After three full years, the Mongol officers and troops were now able to return to the Mongolian plateau in triumph. When he arrived at his tent on Mount Burqan, Chinggis remained a short while and then moved his base camp to Lake Yur of the Tatars. It was still necessary to keep a watch on the movements of the Jin, and he felt that it would be wise, before anything untoward transpired, to defend against any friction between Börte and Qulan.

  In addition to Qulan, Chinggis brought Princess Hatun from the state of Jin into the former Tatar base area. Although the number of stunningly beautiful women Chinggis had acquired at various sites on Chinese terrain had become considerable, he had them all work in service to Qulan and Hatun. Hatun was taciturn, quite unattractive, and short. Although he considered her a princess, Chinggis soon stopped summoning her to his own tent. He did, however, continue to treat her as befit royalty.

  Shortly after the victorious return of the Mongol armies to the Mongolian plateau, Sorqan Shira, the oldest member of their armed forces, died. Twice during his own lifetime, Chinggis had been in life-threatening danger, and on both occasions this old man had saved him. He now rewarded Sorqan Shira with the rites of a state funeral. On the day of the ceremony, Chinggis and Qulan went to the gravesite and dropped a few clods of earth onto the coffin. Both Chinggis and Qulan grieved that, with the death of Sorqan Shira, the only man who knew where Kölgen was living was now gone. Chinggis, though, said nothing about Kölgen, and Qulan never so much as mentioned his name. Sorqan Shira’s coffin was lowered well into the earth before their eyes, and they would never see him again.

  As Jebe had anticipated at the Juyong Pass, the day the Mongol armies would have to cross the Great Wall again arrived earlier than expected. A report was delivered to Chinggis’s base camp to the effect that the Jin emperor had moved capitals from Zhongdu to Bianjing (modern-day Kaifeng) at the end of the sixth month, shortly after the Mongol armies returned home.

  When Chinggis learned that the Jin had no peaceful intentions, his indignation at this frightful betrayal burned like a raging fire. Chinggis immediately issued marching orders against the Jin to the cavalry units of the Salji’uds, who had fought so outstandingly in the early battles with the Jin, and to the Jurchen cavalry units, who had massacred the enemy so brutally and tenaciously. Sammuqa would command the former and Mingghan the latter. His orders on this occasion were merciless to the extreme: take the city of Zhongdu and destroy everything in it completely.

  At the same time, Chinggis ordered Commander Muqali to proceed to Liaodong. He had heard from the Khitan Prince Yelü Liuge that Jin troops were about to try to retake the region, and he wanted to put a stop to it. When he set out, Chinggis instructed Muqali, this man of incomparable achievements as fighter and statesman:

  —I entrust to you governance of the land to the north of the Daxing Mountains. Conquest of the land to the south of these mountains is the responsibility of the army.

  Chinggis had thought to have Muqali pacify the Jin and take over governance of the great Southern Song dynasty beyond it. In his estimation, Muqali was up to the job, but the latter was something that Chinggis felt he had to do himself. An attraction was beginning to surface in Chinggis’s mind at this time, more than toward China: toward the unknown lands farther west where people had different skin and eye colors.

  He saw off the
two expeditionary forces—Muqali’s army set to conquer the Jin and those of Sammuqa and Mingghan—from his base near Lake Yur. It was the seventh month of 1214; the peace with Jin had collapsed after only three months.

  From the end of this year through the spring of the next, Chinggis interviewed the messengers who came almost every day to his tent with reports on the movements of the expeditionary forces. He thus had a thoroughly clear understanding of the operations of these two armies in China. The actual fighting led by Sammuqa, Mingghan, and others aimed at capturing Zhongdu began early in 1215. The expeditionary army enveloped Zhongdu, cut off the city’s contact with the outside world, and gradually defeated the Jin military moving north by destroying them one by one. It seemed to Chinggis, waiting impatiently, to take an excruciatingly long period of time until news of the fall of Zhongdu arrived. Why, he wondered, were they taking so long? To both lose no time in receiving news of a victory and avoid the heat of summer, he moved his base camp to Huanzhou. The long-awaited seizure of Zhongdu transpired in the sixth month of the year, and word of it reached his tent in Huanzhou about ten days later. The camp was all astir with this news, and for three days and nights a grand and completely unceremonious banquet ensued among all the officers and soldiers. Reports of further victories from the front continued to reach the banqueters.

  —Zhongdu is now being burned to the ground.

  The messenger’s statements were always the same. Almost every day for over a month, Chinggis listened to the message that Zhongdu was being consumed by flames. Other than the fact that Zhongdu was continuing to burn, he learned that the enemy’s Grand Councilor Wanyan Fuxing had died after taking poison on the day the city had fallen.