Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
him.
‘I have bled the Tartars,’ he told Arslan, struggling not to seem too proud. His father chuckled and slapped his son on the back. Perhaps in time, he would become comfortable with the easy manner Temujin encouraged amongst his men.
‘I am home,’ Temujin said, under his breath and unheard by the others. It was little more than a raiding camp on frozen ground, with barely enough food or shelter for any of them, but there was no question. He had brought Borte home.
‘Take me to my mother, Jelme,’ he said, shivering in the wind. ‘She will be hungry for news of the Olkhun’ut.’ He caught a glimpse of Borte’s nervousness at his words and sought to reassure her.
‘She will welcome you, Borte, as if you were her own daughter.’
As Jelme began to lead the way, Temujin saw the raider he had taken under his wing standing uncomfortably on the outskirts of their little group. His mind swam with a hundred things to remember, but he could not leave the man standing amongst strangers.
‘Kachiun? This is Barakh, a fine warrior. He needs work with the bow and he has never used a sword. He is brave and strong, however. See what you can make of him.’ He frowned to himself as he spoke, remembering yet another debt.
‘Make sure that Arslan is given everything he needs to forge new swords. Have men sent out to dig for ore.’
Kachiun nodded. ‘There is a seam in this hill. We have the grey stones piled ready for him. Jelme wouldn’t let anyone touch it until his father returned.’
Temujin saw that Arslan and his son were both listening.
‘That was right,’ he said immediately. ‘Arslan will make two swords as great as any we have ever seen, is that not so?’
Arslan was still reeling from the pleasure of seeing his son alive and strong, a leader of men. He bowed his head.
‘I will make them,’ he said.
‘Now, by the sky father, let us get out of this wind,’ Temujin said. ‘I thought it would be spring by now.’
Khasar shrugged. ‘We think this is the spring, as far north as we are. I am enjoying the milder weather, myself.’
Temujin looked around at Khasar, Kachiun, Jelme and Arslan. They were fine warriors and his heart soared at the thought of what they might accomplish together. He was home.
Hoelun had a ger to herself, with a young girl from the wanderer families to help her. She was in the process of rubbing clean mutton fat into her skin when she heard the commotion. Her servant went out into the snow for news, returning red-faced and gasping from the cold.
‘Your son is in the camp, mistress,’ she said.
Hoelun let the pot of grease fall from her hands and wiped them on an old cloth. She made a clicking sound in her throat to hurry the girl along as she held out her arms and shrugged herself into the deel. The strength of her emotions surprised her, but her heart had leapt at the news. Temujin had survived again. Though she could not forget what he had done in the darkest times, he was still her son. Love was a strange and twisted thing for any mother, beyond all reason.
By the time she heard his voice outside, Hoelun had composed herself, taking little Temulun on her lap and combing her hair to calm her shaking hands. The girl seemed to sense her mother’s strange mood and looked around wide-eyed when the door opened. Temujin brought the winter in with him in a gust of snow and bitter air that made Hoelun shiver and Temulun cry out with happiness at the older brother she had not seen for such a long time.
Hoelun watched as Temujin embraced his sister, complimenting her on her beautiful hair, as he always did. The girl chattered while Hoelun drank in every detail of the young man who inspired such mixed feelings in her. Whether he knew it or not, he was very much the son Yesugei would have wanted. In her darkest moments, she knew Yesugei would have approved the death of Bekter when they were close to starving. Her sons had inherited their father’s ruthlessness, or perhaps had it hammered into them by the lives they had led.
‘It is good to see you, my son,’ Hoelun said formally. Temujin only smiled, turning aside to bring in a tall young woman and another behind her. Hoelun’s eyes widened as she took in the delicate features of her own people. It brought a pang of homesickness, surprising after so many years. She rose and took the two younger women by their hands, bringing them into the warmth. Temulun came to join them, snuggling in between and demanding to know who they were.
‘More wood on the fire there,’ Hoelun told her girl. ‘You must both be freezing. Which of you is Borte?’
‘I am, mother,’ Borte responded shyly. ‘Of the Olkhun’ut.’
‘I knew that from your face and the markings on your deel,’ Hoelun said as she turned to the other. ‘And you, daughter, what is your name?’
Eluin was still stunned with grief, but she did her best to reply. Hoelun sensed her misery and embraced her on an impulse. She brought them both to where they could sit, calling for bowls of hot tea to warm them. Temulun was kept quiet with a bag of sweet yoghurt curds and sat in the corner, digging deeply into it. Temujin watched as the women of the Olkhun’ut talked together and was pleased to see Borte begin to smile at his mother’s recollections. Hoelun understood their fears amongst the strangeness. She had felt the same way herself, once. While they thawed, she questioned them endlessly, her voice slipping into an old accent Temujin recognised from the Olkhun’ut. It was strange to hear it from his mother and he was reminded again of the life she had led before Yesugei or her children.
‘Is Sansar still the khan? What of my nephew, Koke, and his father, Enq?’
Borte answered Hoelun easily, responding to her motherly ways without embarrassment. Temujin looked on with pride, as if he were responsible. His mother seemed to have forgotten him, so he seated himself and nodded to the servant girl for a bowl of tea, accepting it gratefully and closing his eyes in pleasure as its warmth worked through him. Eluin too began to join the conversation and he allowed himself to relax at last and close his eyes
‘… this cannot go on much longer, this storm,’ he heard his mother saying. ‘The thaw has already begun and the hill passes have begun to clear.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold,’ Borte replied, rubbing her hands together. The women seemed to like each other and Temujin settled back gratefully.
‘I brought Eluin to be a wife to Khasar or Kachiun. Her sister died on the trip,’ he said, opening his eyes a fraction. Both women looked at him, then the conversation began again as if he had not spoken. He snorted softly to himself. No man could be a khan to his mother. The warmth made him drowsy and, with their soft voices in his ears, he dropped off to sleep.
Kachiun and Khasar sat in a neighbouring ger, chewing on hot mutton that had been simmering in broth for the best part of a day. With the cold, it was necessary to keep a stew on the fire the whole time so that there was always a bowl to warm them before they went out again. There had been little chance to relax while Temujin was away. The brothers tolerated Jelme’s orders with good nature, knowing it was what Temujin would have wanted. In private, though, they dropped all masks and pretences, talking long into the night.
‘I liked the look of that Eluin,’ Khasar said.
Kachiun rose to the bait immediately, as his brother had known he would. ‘Your girl died, Khasar. Eluin was promised to me and you know it.’
‘I don’t know anything like it, little brother. The eldest gets his tea and stew first, have you noticed? It is the same with wives.’
Kachiun snorted, half in amusement. He had seen Eluin first, when he rode out to answer the scout’s call. He had hardly noticed her then, bundled up against the cold, but he felt it gave him some sort of finder’s rights. It was certainly a stronger claim than Khasar’s, who had just stumbled out of a ger and met her.
‘Temujin will decide,’ he said.
Khasar nodded, beaming.