Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn Iggulden
Togrul felt out of his depth and in awe of the tallest building he had ever seen. He could not hide his excitement as Wen Chao’s litter was placed on the ground and the ambassador stepped out.
‘Wait here. I have papers I must show to them before we can pass,’ Wen Chao said. He too seemed animated, with his homeland in view. It would not be long before he was back in the heart of Kaifeng and little Zhang would have to grind his teeth in private over his success.
Togrul stepped down from the cart, watching closely as Wen Chao approached the guards and spoke to them. They glanced back at the party of Mongols, soldiers and slaves, but one of them bowed and opened the small door in the gate, vanishing inside. Wen Chao showed no impatience as he waited. He had survived years away from comfort, after all.
Yuan watched in silence as the commander of the fort came out and examined Wen Chao’s papers. He could not hear what was said and he ignored the questioning glances Togrul sent his way. He too was tired of the tribesmen, and the sight of Chin lands reminded him of his family and friends.
At last, the commander seemed satisfied. He passed back the papers and Wen spoke to him again, as to a subordinate. The authority from the first minister demanded instant obedience and the guards stood as stiffly as if they were being inspected. Yuan saw the door open again and the commander stepped inside it, taking his soldiers with him. Wen hesitated before following and turned to the watching group. His gaze found Yuan and rested there, troubled. He spoke in the Chin dialect of the court, in the most formal style.
‘These men will not be allowed to enter, Yuan. Should I leave you with them?’
Yuan narrowed his eyes and Togrul took a step forwards.
‘What did he say? What is happening?’
Wen Chao’s glance did not waver from Yuan.
‘You failed me, Yuan, when you failed to kill the khan in his tent. What value is your life to me now?’
Yuan stood very still, showing no trace of fear.
‘Tell me to stand and I will stand. Tell me to come and I will come.’
Wen Chao nodded slowly. ‘Then come to me, and live, knowing that your life was mine to take.’
Yuan crossed the distance to the door and stepped inside. Togrul watched in growing panic.
‘When do we cross over?’ his wife asked.
Togrul turned to her and when she saw the terrible fear in his expression, her face crumpled. When the Chin ambassador spoke again, it was in the language of the tribes. He hoped it would be the last time the foul sounds crossed his lips.
‘I am sorry,’ he said, turning away and passing through the door. It closed behind him.
‘What is this?’ Togrul shouted, desperately. ‘Answer me! What is happening?’ He froze at movement on the high walls of the fort. A line of men stood there and, to Togrul’s horror, he saw they were bending bows pointing down at him.
‘No! I was promised!’ Togrul roared.
Arrows spat through the air, hammering into them even as they turned in terror. Togrul fell to his knees with his arms outstretched, a dozen shafts in his flesh. His daughters screamed, the sounds cut off in thumping blows that hurt Togrul as much as his own agony. For a moment, he cursed the men who stole amongst the tribes as allies, ruling them with gold and promises. The thin grass under him was the dust of Mongol lands, filling his lungs and choking him. The anger faded and the morning was quiet once more.
AFTERWORD
“The greatest joy a man can know is to conquer his enemies and drive them before him. To ride their horses and take away their possessions, to see the faces of those who were dear to them bedewed with tears, and to clasp their wives and daughters in his arms.” Genghis Khan
The events of his youth that went to create Genghis Khan make extraordinary reading. Very few contemporary records survive and even the most famous of them, ‘The Secret History of the Mongols’ was almost lost. The original in his own language commissioned by Genghis did not survive the centuries. Fortunately, a version was rendered phonetically in Chinese and it is from that writing that we have most of our knowledge of Temujin of the Borjigin – the Blue Wolves. A translation into English by Arthur Waley became my chief source for Wolf of the Plains.
Though the exact meaning of the name is disputed, Temujin-Uge was a Tartar killed by Yesugei, who then named his son after the warrior he had defeated. The name has similarities to the Mongolian word for iron and that is generally accepted as its meaning, though it could just be coincidence. Temujin was born holding a clot of blood in his hand, which would have frightened those who looked for such omens.
Temujin was tall for a Mongol, with ‘cat’s eyes’. Even amongst a hardy people, he was noted for his ability to endure heat and cold and was indifferent to wounds. He had complete mastery of his own body in terms of endurance. As a people, the Mongols have excellent teeth and eyesight, black hair and reddish skin and believe themselves to be related to the native American tribes who crossed the Bering strait while it was frozen and so entered Alaska around 15,000 years ago. The similarities between the peoples are startling.
In modern Mongolia, the majority of the population still hunt with a bow or rifle, herd sheep and goats and revere ponies. They practise shamanism and any high place will be marked with lengths of blue cloth to honour the sky father. Sky burial – that is, laying out bodies to be torn apart by wild birds in high places – is as I have described it.
The young Temujin was taken to his mother’s old tribe, the Olkhun’ut, to find him a wife, though his mother Hoelun was taken in the other way of finding a woman – by Yesugei and his brothers kidnapping her from her husband. Yesugei was almost certainly poisoned by his Tartar enemies though exact details are sketchy.
With his father gone, the tribe chose a new khan and abandoned Hoelun and seven children, down to Temulun, a baby girl. I have not included a half-brother Begutei in this story, as he did not play a major part and there were too many similar names already. In the same way, I have changed names where I felt the original was too long or too complex. Eeluk is far simpler than ‘Tarkhutai-kiriltukh’. Mongolian is not an easy language to pronounce, though it is worth mentioning that they have no ‘k’ sound, so that Khan would be said as ‘Haan’. Kubla Khan, the grandson of Genghis, would have been pronounced as ‘Hoop-Lie Haan’. It is true that Genghis is perhaps better rendered as ‘Chinggis’, but ‘Genghis’ is how I learned it first and the one that resonates for me.
Hoelun and her children were not expected to survive and it is a testament to that extraordinary woman that not one of them died in the winter that followed. We do not know exactly how they survived starvation and temperatures plunging as low as -20, but the death of Bekter shows how close to the ragged edge they were during that period. That said, my guide in Mongolia slept in his deel in very low temperatures, so that his hair had frozen to the ground on waking. They are a hardy people and to this day, practise three sports of wrestling, archery and horse-riding to the exclusion of everything else.
Temujin killed Bekter much as I have described it, though it was Khasar, not Kachiun who fired the second shot. After Bekter stole food, both boys ambushed him with bows. To understand this act, I think it must be first necessary to see your family starve. Mongolia is an unforgiving land. The boy, Temujin, was never cruel, and there is no record of him ever taking pleasure from the destruction of his enemies, but he was capable of utter ruthlessness.
When the tribe sent men back to see what had become of the family they had abandoned, they met fierce resistance and arrow fire from the brothers. After a chase, Temujin hid from them deep in a thicket for nine days without food before starvation eventually forced him out. He was captured, but escaped and hid in a river. The bank of blue ice I described is not in the Secret History, though I saw such a thing on my travels in Mongolia. I changed