Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
Xun Zi believed the path to excellence was the path of enlightenment, and Wen was considering a delicious parallel in his own life. He was just reaching for his writing tools when the litter was laid down and he heard a nervous throat being cleared by his ear. He sighed. The travel had been dull, but the thought of mingling once more with unwashed tribesmen would try his patience to the limit. All this for one night of debauchery, he thought, as he moved the hanging aside and stared into the face of his most trusted guard.
‘Well, Yuan, we seem to have stopped,’ he said, letting his long fingernails click on the parchment in his hand to show his displeasure. Yuan was crouching by the litter and dropped flat as soon as Wen spoke, pressing his forehead against the icy ground. Wen sighed audibly.
‘You may speak, Yuan. If you do not, we will be here all day.’ In the distance, he heard the mournful note of warning horns on the wind. Yuan glanced back in the direction he’d ridden from.
‘We found them, master. They are coming.’
Wen nodded. ‘You are first among my guards, Yuan. When they have finished blustering and yelping, let me know.’
He let the silk hanging fall back into place and began tying his scrolls in their scarlet ribbons. He heard the rumble of approaching horses and felt the tickle of curiosity become overwhelming. With a sigh at his own weakness, Wen slid back the spyhole in the wooden edge of the litter, peering through it. Only Yuan knew it was there and he would say nothing. To the slaves, it would seem as if their master scorned the danger. It was important to present the right image for slaves, he thought, wondering if there was time to add a note to his own small thoughts on philosophy. He would have his work bound and sent back to be published, he promised himself. It was particularly critical of the role of eunuchs in the court of Kaifeng. As he squinted through the tiny hole, he thought it would be best to publish it anonymously.
Temujin rode with Arslan and Jelme on his flanks. Ten of his best men came with them while Khasar and Kachiun had split smaller forces around the camp to look for a second attack.
From the first sighting, Temujin knew something was wrong with the little scene. He wondered why so many armed men seemed to be guarding a box. The men themselves were strange, though he recognised seasoned warriors when he saw them. Instead of attacking, they had formed a defensive square around the box to wait for his arrival. Temujin glanced at Arslan, with his eyebrows raised. Over the sound of the galloping hooves, Arslan was forced to shout.
‘Tread carefully, my lord. It can only be a representative of the Chin, someone of rank.’
Temujin looked back at the strange scene with renewed interest. He had heard of the great cities in the east, but never seen one of their people. They were said to swarm like flies and use gold as a building material, it was so common. Whoever it was, they were important enough to travel with a dozen guards and enough slaves to carry the lacquered box. In itself, that was a strange thing to see in the wilderness. It shone blackly and at its sides were draped hangings the colour of the sun.
Temujin had an arrow on the string and was guiding his pony with his knees. He lowered the bow, giving a short call to those around him to do the same. If it was a trap, the Chin warriors would find they had made an error coming into those lands.
He reined in. For those with an eye to see it, his men kept their formation perfectly as they matched him. Temujin tied his bow neatly to the thong on his saddle, touched the hilt of his sword for luck and rode up to the man at the centre of the strange party.
He did not speak. Those lands were Temujin’s by right and he did not have to explain his presence in them. His yellow gaze was steady on the warrior and Temujin noted the overlapping armour with interest. Like the box itself, the panels were lacquered in a substance that shone like black water, the fastenings hidden by the design. It looked as if it would stop an arrow and Temujin wondered how he could obtain a set to test.
The warrior watched Temujin from beneath the rim of a padded helmet, his face half covered by cheekpieces of iron. He looked ill to Temujin, a ghastly yellow colour that spoke of too many evenings drinking. Yet the whites of his eyes were clear and he did not flinch from the sight of so many armed men as they waited for orders.
The silence stretched and Temujin waited. At last, the officer frowned and spoke.
‘My master of the jade court wishes to speak with you,’ Yuan said stiffly, his accent strange to Temujin’s ears. Like his master, Yuan disliked the warriors of the tribes. They had no discipline of the sort he understood, for all their ferocity. He saw them as ill-tempered hounds and it was undignified to have to converse with them like human beings.
‘Is he hiding in that box?’ Temujin asked.
The officer tensed and Temujin dropped his hand near the hilt of his sword. He had spent hundreds of evenings training with Arslan and he did not fear a sudden clash of blades. Perhaps his amusement showed in his eyes, for Yuan restrained himself and sat like stone.
‘I am to say a message from Togrul of the Kerait,’ Yuan continued.
Temujin reacted to the name with intense curiosity. He had heard it before and his camp contained three wanderers who had been banished from that tribe.
‘Say your message then,’ Temujin replied.
The warrior spoke as if he was reciting, looking off into the far distance. ‘“Trust these men and offer them guest rights in my name,”’ Yuan said.
Temujin grinned suddenly, surprising the Chin soldier. ‘Perhaps that would be wise. Have you considered the alternative?’
Yuan looked back at Temujin, irritated. ‘There is no alternative. You have been given your orders.’
Temujin laughed aloud at that, though he never lost his awareness of the soldier in reach of a sword.
‘Togrul of the Kerait is not my khan,’ he said. ‘He does not give orders here.’ Still, his interest had grown in the party who had come into the lands around his war camp. The officer said nothing more, though he radiated tension.
‘I might just have you all killed and take whatever is in that fine box you are protecting,’ Temujin said, more to sting the man than anything else. To his surprise, the officer did not grow angry as he had before. Instead, a grim smile appeared on his face.
‘You do not have enough men,’ Yuan replied with certainty.
As Temujin was about to respond, a voice from the box snapped an order in a language he could not understand. It sounded like the honking of geese, but the officer bowed his head immediately.
Temujin could not resist his curiosity any longer.
‘Very well. I grant you guest rights in my home,’ he said. ‘Ride in with me so that my guards do not send arrows down your throat as you come.’ He saw that Yuan was frowning and spoke again. ‘Ride slowly and make no sudden gestures. There are men in my camp who do not like strangers.’
Yuan raised a fist and the twelve bearers gripped the long handles and stood as one, gazing impassively forward. Temujin did not know what to make of any of it. He snapped orders to his men and took the lead with Arslan, while Jelme and the others trotted their ponies around the little group to bring up the rear.
As he came abreast with Arslan, Temujin leaned over in the saddle, his voice a murmur.
‘You know these people?’
Arslan nodded. ‘I have met them before.’
‘Are they a threat to us?’ Temujin watched as Arslan considered.
‘They could be. They have great wealth and it is said their cities are vast. I do not know what they want with us, in this place.’
‘Or what game Togrul is playing,’ Temujin added. Arslan nodded and they did not speak again as they rode.
Wen Chao waited until his litter had been placed on the ground and Yuan had come to the side. He had watched their arrival in the camp with interest and suppressed groans at the sight of the familiar gers and