by Joshua Fogel
“I may have taken the great khan to task in the past for his many concubines. I may have demanded treasures and land of the great khan in the past. Not once did I ever believe that all of this stuff in my tent surrounding me was really mine. I was merely borrowing it to adorn myself. When I abandon this tent, these things here will cease to belong to me.
“Great khan, see to it that I am with you in the fierce battles to come with Khorazm. Give me the opportunity to say just one thing.”
“What is that one thing you wish to speak with me about?” asked Chinggis, thinking it all a bit strange.
“It is something that can only be spoken of at the time. At that time, heaven will reside in my body and instruct me as to what to say.”
These were the divergent—similar, though dissimilar—words elicited from Jochi, Börte, and Qulan concerning Chinggis’s decision about sending an expedition against Khorazm.
Although he was resolved to go to war, his plan did not take shape immediately. He had to treat the appeal of Yelü Chucai and many other commanders opposing such a war with respect, and he had to take their views into account, albeit in an utterly different form from the ways they were articulated to him: in military movements against this unknown religious state.
Chinggis revealed his battle plans to no one and worked extremely hard to gather, by every means at his disposal, information about the state of Khorazm. He traveled around the settlements on the Mongolian plateau, working to drum up morale among the troops who would be under his command.
At the end of 1218, Chinggis convened the Quriltai, the Mongolian council of elders, and for the first time consulted with his close relatives, high officials, and senior advisors concerning the attack on Khorazm. It was less a consultation than an announcement; Chinggis declared his plan unilaterally at this time and had those present at the meeting approve it. It was decided further that, while Chinggis was at the front, in his stead his younger brother Temüge would rule over domestic affairs. All of Chinggis’s relatives, as well as his high officials and senior advisors, were to depart for the war, and of all his concubines, only Qulan was permitted to join him on the march. Yelü Chucai was also ordered to follow the army to battle.
A messenger was immediately sent to Xixia, now a subservient state of the Mongols, to join the battle. Xixia, however, unexpectedly refused to dispatch relief troops. This led Chinggis to realize that Xixia saw Khorazm as bigger and stronger than the Mongols and were avoiding antagonizing the state of Khorazm.
Chinggis led a force of 200,000 men in the spring of 1219 from his camp in the foothills of Mount Burqan. It was movement on a grand scale of wolf packs dressed in armor. The troops crossed the Altai Mountains at the height of summer, marched west to the plains and mountainous regions in the northern foothills of Tianshan, made their way to the Chui River, and camped there. Inasmuch as he had no idea how strong Khorazm was militarily, Chinggis decided to wait for his opponents to move first. From summer through fall, he and his entire armed forces engaged in massive-scale hunting expeditions over the course of weeks. To keep his troops in readiness, as well as to keep the horses trained for battle and to acquire fresh provisions, hunting was a necessity for the units of Mongol troops.
At the same time, Chinggis was devoting himself to gathering reports on domestic affairs within Khorazm. He was able to glean that it was an amalgam of numerous ethnicities, which, of course, meant that it possessed many weak points as well. The weakest element was the fact that, in preparing to face the Mongols, Khorazm had amassed a force of 400,000, but it lacked a single superior leader who exercised control over this army made up of many different ethnic groups. Although Muhammad, shah of Khorazm, was the ruler of a Muslim sphere, he could not serve as the man in charge of a large military force. The army was spread among several dozen walled towns dotting a massive expanse of terrain. They filled up all of these walled sites and adopted a strategy from the start of evading open-field warfare with mounted troops and long lances, which was the Mongols’ great strength.
In mid-autumn, Chinggis abruptly discontinued the hunting and issued orders to his entire army for the invasion of the borders of the northwestern state of Khorazm. The Syr Darya, which starts in the Tianshan mountain range and empties into the Aral Sea, cut off the forward movement of the Mongol armed forces, and all along it fortresses had been placed here and there. Before they advanced farther, Chinggis divided his entire army into four units. He put his eldest son, Jochi, in charge of the first army and sent him toward the lower reaches of the Syr Darya, and he entrusted the second army to his second son, Cha’adai, and his third son, Ögedei, and decided that they should lead their forces to attack and capture Otrar along the middle reaches of the Syr Darya. The third army he placed in the hands of three young commanders, Alaq, Soqtuu, and Taghai, and he ordered them to pacify the upper reaches of the Syr Darya. Tolui, his fourth son, was placed in command of the fourth army, and he decided that this force would cross the Syr Darya and attack Bukhara, a major stronghold of distant Khorazm’s army.
Chinggis made it clear to the warriors under his command that this fight was to crush the entire army of Khorazm and to continue until its sovereign, Muhammad, was put to death. His extremely rigid orders were that those who surrendered would be allowed to live, but all who resisted—be they soldiers or civilians—were to be massacred. In Chinggis’s mind, this was a war in which all Mongolian strength was invested, on which he was staking the very existence of his people.
As he had when he waged war against the state of Jin, Chinggis gathered all of his relatives and high officials at his tent and held a send-off feast as if it were the last time they would see one another. At the time of the Jin invasion, this had taken place at his tent in the foothills of Mount Burqan, but now it was being held at his tent in the wilderness on foreign terrain, some ten days away from the Erdish River.
On this occasion, Chinggis announced who among his four sons was to assume the position of sovereign, should he die. This was, to be sure, the most important matter of concern not only for these four sons but also for all of his ministers and senior advisors, and all the officers and soldiers of the Mongolian people as a whole. In everyone’s estimation, Chinggis loved his youngest son, Tolui, most. From time immemorial, the Mongolian people had practiced a system of ultimogeniture, so Tolui was due to inherit Chinggis’s own personal property, but Chinggis’s love for Tolui did not derive from a special relationship the two men shared.
Chinggis profoundly admired Tolui’s bravery and his brilliant flash on the battlefield. In every expedition to date, Chinggis had placed himself in the same unit as Tolui. While this indicated that he was a supporter of the youngest son, it was not that alone that sealed the case, because he was pleased as well by the manner in which Tolui deployed his forces and the way they fought. There was something deeply refreshing about a twenty-six-year-old commander in whom Chinggis found so many admirable qualities.
All those in attendance thought that Chinggis would either name his eldest son, Jochi, by virtue of his glorious military exploits, about which there was no debate whatsoever, or Tolui, who had earned his deepest love. The name that emerged from Chinggis’s mouth, however, was altogether different.
“Ögedei.”
Everyone heard the name of Chinggis’s third son. The moment they heard it, everyone doubted their own ears. Before long, though, they perforce learned that their ears had not failed them.
“Jochi, what do you think?” said Chinggis. “Speak!”
“I have no objection whatsoever,” he replied, “to Ögedei’s name being put forward. Together with my younger brothers Cha’adai and Tolui, we shall work to help Ögedei. It is splendid that Ögedei shall be heir to our father, the great khan.”
With a pallid expression, Jochi had responded with few words.
“Cha’adai, what do you think? Speak!”
“Just as Jochi has put it,” he replied, “together with my brothers, I shall work to assi
st my father as long as he lives and to assist Ögedei after Father passes away. Should any man defy us, we shall strike out and kill him. Should any man flee, we shall track him down and thrust daggers at him from behind. Ögedei is the most gentle and sincere of the brothers. Ögedei has the talents best suited to being ruler of all Mongolia. It is altogether fitting, then, that Ögedei receive the position of heir to the great khan.”
There was far more fervent emotion in Cha’adai’s words than in those of Jochi.
“Tolui, what do you think? Speak!” Chinggis fixed his gaze on his youngest son.
“Standing before my elder brother whom Father has named,” he answered, “should he forget something, I shall remind him. When he is asleep, I shall shake him to wake up. We shall march off together to the battlefield, always to be the whip of pacification. I shall never be absent from troop deployment, marching on every lengthy expedition and fighting in every severe battle.”
After nodding his head in satisfaction, Chinggis finally said:
“Ögedei, do you have anything to say? If so, speak!”
Understandably, Ögedei could not hide his excitement, but as was his wont, he quietly composed himself and replied:
“Do I have anything to say? Just that whenever Father has orders, I obey whatever they may be. I would just fear that my own children may be weak and unable to accede to the position of great khan.”
All in attendance were hushed, listening to this exchange between Chinggis and his four sons, but by the time they finished speaking, everyone was beginning to come to the view that Chinggis’s designation had been a wise one. Although all present had only just became aware of this selection, it now appeared to them that there was no better person than Ögedei to lead all the Mongolian people as their sovereign after Chinggis.
Ögedei lacked the kind of ferocity that each of his three brothers possessed; he was a gentle man by nature, a deeply kind man, a man who took responsibility for everything, never resorting to trickery or artifice. He was a modest man who did not stand out among his brothers, but by the same token, when he made up his mind, he dauntlessly moved to action with alacrity. This was a strength befitting the successor to the great khan, in which he excelled everyone.
When it was clear that no one harbored any objection to his choice, Chinggis said:
“The land before us is expansive without limit, the rivers flow to infinitude, and the fields of grass continue without end. The dwelling places that I shall divide among Jochi, Cha’adai, and Tolui will thus be immense.”
Only Jochi’s pale mien would always remain in Chinggis’s eyes. The bravest commander among the Mongolian people, Jochi was a warrior with a will of steel who never flinched in the face of imminent death, a man who amazed even Chinggis himself. He had no peer among the entire Mongolian nation when it came to carrying out great deeds. In fact, Chinggis had vacillated about who should be his successor, Ögedei or Jochi. Who was more suitable was a subtle issue, extremely difficult to resolve. Ultimately, he selected Ögedei. That Jochi’s face had paled at the news was not altogether unexpected to Chinggis.
Chinggis and all those before him raised their wine cups to the coming desperate battle. For everyone but Jochi, it was a gesture of parting perhaps to an unknown fate, but for Jochi it bore a somewhat different meaning. It seemed to Chinggis that for Jochi this was a moment of estrangement. Chinggis had thought about this a great deal. Had something unusual occurred, it would not have been unexpected. He forcibly pushed the thought aside as insignificant. In his mind, he called out to Jochi:
“‘Guest’ of the Borjigin, you still haven’t proven yourself to be a true descendant of the blue wolf, just as I haven’t. Go off now! Take a path of great difficulty far, far away. You must fight and win innumerable, fierce battles, just as I must. Jochi, if you are indeed a shining Mongol wolf, you must seize your dwelling place by force with your own strength.”
Chinggis then saw Jochi, who had walked over and was standing before him. He raised his wine cup to his son and said simply:
“I have heard that there is a poisonous scorpion along the lower reaches of the Syr Darya. Be mindful of that!”
“Yes, my father and great khan.”
Staring back at Chinggis without defiance, Jochi replied with few words of his own in an emphatic tone of voice.
The four Mongol units descended upon the Syr Darya at approximately the same time. Jochi’s forces set their sights on the city of Jand, the armies of Cha’adai and Ögedei laid siege to Otrar, and the soldiers under Alaq, Soqtuu, and Taghai moved toward Fanakat.
Chinggis and Tolui led the main army and pitched camp on the Syr Darya, and soon news of victories repeatedly reached them from their various military units. They crossed the river with the entire army and headed for the city of Bukhara, deep within Khorazm’s terrain, precisely as planned. With the main army advancing toward Bukhara, communications between the main force of the enemy and the fortresses along the Syr Darya were naturally severed.
Chinggis marched over the desert and the plains region for over a month. Eventually reaching the city of Zarnuq, Chinggis sent a messenger who called out at the city gate:
“As sons of heaven, we are defenders of the Muslim people. By order of the great khan of the Mongols, we are here now to save you. The great Mongolian army presses upon your gate. Should you so much as resist even slightly, we shall without a moment’s notice destroy your strongholds and homes. If you surrender, you shall escape with your lives and property.”
The city dwellers immediately came out. Only the young men were commandeered into the Mongolian military, while the others were allowed to return to their homes.
Plundering the city lasted for three days. All items of importance were confiscated by the troops. When the fortress strongholds were destroyed, Mongol soldiers set off on a dangerous route toward the city of Nur. Over a month later they reached the walled settlement, and Chinggis had them promptly open the city gates, bring the residents outside the walls, and plunder the city over the course of several days.
Although Chinggis forbid his men from injuring the city folk, the pillage was thorough. As a result, foodstuffs had to be secured, and the most valuable possessions—as the natural right of the victors—had to be transformed into a part of Mongolian national strength.
Mongol cavalry units greeted the new year of 1220 while en route to Bukhara. When they reached the outskirts of the city in the first month of the year, they camped by the banks of the Sughd River. Around them stretched extraordinarily fertile fields. After allowing his forces sufficient respite, Chinggis had his immense army surround the city. Within the walls was a besieged army of 20,000 that did not respond to the advice to surrender, and a fierce battle attacking and defending the city ensued over the following days.
One night, the besieged troops suddenly flung open the city gates and launched an attack. They broke through the Mongol encirclement and escaped in the direction of the Amu Darya. Chinggis had his men pursue them as far as the Amu Darya and slaughtered every one of them. The riverbed was filled with corpses, the river’s surge turned red from all the blood. For the first time, the soldiers under Chinggis’s command witnessed such a great flow of blood, which made them maniacal.
The following day Chinggis entered the city through the main gate. Shops, temples, and homes filled the interior and bespoke, at a glance, a city of great wealth. Men and women of various ethnicities crowded around him through the streets and neighborhoods. Four hundred soldiers who had not attempted to surrender remained within. When he entered the city gate, Chinggis quickly gave orders to attack the interior, and the moat soon filled up with city dwellers holding weapons.
It took the Mongol soldiers 12 days to bring down the 400 enemy troops. Many Mongols died, as did many urbanites who were chased away. With catapults and batteries, they finally broke through the city walls, and Mongol soldiers poured in.
After capturing Bukhara, Chinggis expelled the residents from the
city with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Mongol troops then proceeded to enter the city and plunder it as they pleased. Anyone who failed to comply with this decree and hid something was summarily executed. Of the city dwellers assembled at a site outside the walls now, the women were divided up among the troops. All the virgins were taken off. The men were compelled to admit where they had secreted possessions, all of which were confiscated, and then were drafted into the Mongolian army.
When Chinggis departed from Bukhara, he issued orders to have the vacant city set afire and reduced to ashes. By this example, Chinggis indicated what fate awaited a city that moved in any fashion to treat him as their enemy.
As Bukhara was engulfed in flames, Chinggis set off with his men in the direction of Samarkand, a city even greater in size than Bukhara. They marched for five days, during which time the Mongol soldiers, already baptized in blood and cruelty, were transformed into wild animals with glaring eyes. They differed from wild beasts only insofar as their advance was held in check by strict military discipline. When the blue moon appeared each night, the marching soldiers cast black shadows on the desert hillocks. During this harsh forced march, many of the numerous young men with blue eyes whom they had brought along with them from Bukhara collapsed en route, and all those who collapsed were killed on the spot.
After they had marched over desert, wasteland, and rocky hills for several days, the city of Samarkand on the low ground below their line of vision suddenly loomed before them. Even in the eyes of crazed Mongol troops, Samarkand was more beautiful than they had ever imagined. The area outside the city walls was lush with an unbroken view of fruit trees and flowering plants. The groves of fruit trees continued all along the banks of the Sughd River that flowed around the city. This immense metropolis nestled in such beautiful natural surroundings was encircled by a stone wall several levels thick, which had been specifically reinforced to withstand an impending attack by Mongol forces.