Chapter Three
The Talisman
Teary-eyed, the Tangut Queen ran down the stairs from her private chamber to the king’s consultation room the moment she heard the news. To those uninitiated in the field of warfare, the rapid pace of deterioration of civilizations that had succumbed to Mongol aggression seemed incredible. She had heard that prosperous lands reverted to wilderness when the Mongols annihilated the inhabitants, leaving dense new woodlands and underbrush that made them unsuitable for cultivation. She could not comprehend the fact that the Tangut nation faced a similar destiny. The most pressing issue for the Tangut Queen was the fate of her daughter, Chaka.
“You want to sacrifice the life and happiness of our daughter to prevent war with the Mongols. Is that true?” she blurted without preliminaries as soon as she saw the calm face of her husband. Her normally genteel voice turned high-pitched.
“It is for her own good that I do this. Do you think it is easy to free her from the hands of those brutes? This way at least she will earn their respect and will be honored as their queen. I have already forwarded a communiqué to Genghis.”
The rest of their conversation blurred. It is not too late, you can save her, she said or thought she did. I care for Chaka, she is my daughter, but I have an entire nation’s responsibility on my hands, he said. I cannot bear it, she said. She would be fine, he said, honorably married to a man of royalty. Not all marriages are happy ones, he said. Her loud protestation having had no effect, the matter settled as it always did, with him having the last word as she curled away in silence, her face tear-streaked.
Poor Chaka, torn between her desire to flee her strange fate and her deep-rooted sense of obedience toward her father, finally succumbed to the latter compulsion. The two sides agreed to a date for the wedding, and soon after the agreement, the embargo ended. The gates of the capital opened to arriving merchants, and convoys of camels carrying loads of food entered the kingdom.
The wedding took place amid prodigious week-long celebrations with all the pomp and ceremony required to make it a royal event. Baskets of flowers hung by poles adorned the streets near the palace during daytime while paper lanterns lit the way at night. Crowds gathered outside as palace guests watched Chaka’s marriage to Genghis Khan. The Tangut guards looked stunned, as the author of the king’s downfall received the honor of becoming His Majesty’s son-in-law.
The hungry inhabitants feasted on trays of food while the foreign warriors ate their meals with the voracity of the famished, though they had not experienced any shortages. The Mongols took copious mouthfuls of the flesh of slain beasts. Chaka watched them with revulsion during the wedding ceremony as they stared at her with yearning in their eyes. She turned to her father who hid his face by starting a conversation with one of his ministers. Her sisters also looked away when she searched for sympathy in their faces. They probably felt lucky that they were not the ones forced to marry their kidnapper. Even her mother avoided her questioning eyes by keeping her head down during the entire ceremony.
Little did Chaka imagine that she would be led by foreign warriors to this strange, unfathomable circumstance. This past year she had entertained the idea of marriage. How girls, barely older than she, were literally placed upon a pedestal, all dressed up in impeccable attires with their virtues sung by every mouth. How with their faces painted in the richest colors but their eyes cast down, smiling demurely, they were led to new lives. How exquisitely beautiful they looked, ready to be carried away by a chivalrous, handsome prince to the fairytale land of marriage where they would live in eternal bliss, no longer a child of their folks but the wife of a man.
Trepidation filled Chaka’s heart. Who would have thought she would be forced to marry her captor, a man who lacked higher sensibilities? She had an urge to flee, to run away from that place before Genghis took possession of her at nightfall. She did not know what to expect from a Mongol husband, one with such authority and ambition as Genghis. But despite her fear and the droplets of sweat that had formed on her forehead, realizing that no means for escape existed, she tried to appear impassive and accept her fate.
Overwhelmed by the idea of captivity and life in a strange land, Chaka did not respond to Genghis’s kind words. No intimation on his part or his gifts of jewelry and fine fur during the week of wedding festivities could win Chaka’s heart. He directly addressed the matter on the very night of their wedding.
“You are the wife of a Mongol Khan, so you better behave like one,” he said, sternly.
“Why? What have I done?” she asked, surprised at his temper.
“In your mind, you still consider yourself a captive and behave accordingly,” he said. “You do so in front of my warriors and army commanders. That is an insult. It degrades me before them. You stand next to me, meek and unresponsive as if I am some sort of monster. I do not intend to treat you like a prisoner, so stop acting like one.”
“Well it pains me to know that I was taken against my will away from my family!” she exclaimed without thinking.
Genghis looked away as if to study the painted panel that separated their canopy bed from the rest of the room. Dark wood covered the walls of the luxurious chamber. Chaka wondered what effect the grandeur of the palace had on this warrior who had lived all his life in the rough environment of the Steppes.
“You don’t even know what pain is,” he said irritably and walked out of their wedding chamber. He did not come back until several hours later, leaving Chaka in a state of continuous apprehension for she did not know what would become of her. When he did return, he held her in his arms for a long time. The warmth of his body near her made her shudder, not due to a sense of repulsion, quite the contrary, she felt drawn to him. She felt secure in his embrace, and her fears began to melt away. He pulled an oval-shaped talisman of turquoise out of a small silver box. It hung on a thin leather cord, and he tied it around her neck.
“This belonged to my mother, and she wore it to ward off evil,” he said, staring into her eyes with such tenderness that it almost made her forgive him. “I want you to keep this for your protection so no harm will come to you.” He then told her about his childhood, of his father, Yesukai, a great warrior in his time and a leader of their tribe.
“After his death, when the tribesmen found me, his eldest, too weak and young to lead, they abandoned us. My mother, my siblings and I became easy prey for the enemies of my father and had to be constantly on the run. Many a night I slept on ice-covered grounds and scavenged for food, relying on the meat and skin of rodents. Thus, poverty became my habitat and hunger my sustenance. This life of luxury that you lead is alien to my people and to me.
“For me, my love” he added, pain visible in his face from the remembrance of his childhood, “success and failure are potions to drink with equal zeal. I have learned early on that suffering is just a fact of life. Neither victory nor defeat, temper my spirit, you see. When I fall, I lift myself up, work relentlessly to regain my strength and start over as if nothing has happened. I then continue my struggle to achieve my goals. Those goals, I believe, were ordained by the Mighty Sky.”
Tears welled up in Chaka’s eyes, not only because she sympathized with him but also because of the relief from the trepidation she had felt earlier, not knowing what would happen if Genghis refused her as a mate. She now felt secure, protected. He kissed her quivering lips, then her eyes, allowing her tears to fall freely down her cheeks.
From that moment on, Chaka began to see him as that lost child who had grown up under the most insufferable circumstances, rather than the ferocious commander that he had become. She would be fooling herself if she thought she was not attracted to him. She found the aura about him, an aura of power and determination, admirable. She wanted to tame the heart of this man who claimed that the skies above had ordained him to rule the earth and subjugate all mankind. She placed her head on his chest as a gesture of consent. From t
hen on, she called him by his childhood name, Temujin.
The following morning, maids and housekeepers of the palace prepared the best breakfast that the king and queen of the Tangut people had seen in months. A long walnut dining table displayed copper containers filled with hot and cold morsels. The aroma of pastries filled the air, complementing the scent of fresh flowers arranged in tall vases at every corner. But the newlywed couple, Genghis and Chaka, attracted the greatest attention. They came down from their upper story wedding chamber, holding hands and frequently exchanging loving glances and smiles.
Chapter Four
Mongolia
Chaka soon learned to adjust to her new life. From the very moment of her encounter with the Mongolian warlord, she had realized that her fate had been sealed; she quickly recognized that her only means of survival lay in keeping the appearance of total submission. She longed to see her family but Genghis had forbidden this.
The thrill of being attached to a man of such power, and play a part in history, had allowed Chaka to overcome the trials of captivity. At times, when she reached her utmost limit, her imagination filled the void in her heart. This happened often during episodes of war, particularly when Genghis readied his army for an attack on the Jin Dynasty.
Although her father was a foe to the Jin, Chaka knew many innocent civilians would be killed during the skirmishes. Instead of worrying about the fighting, she tried to imagine her family happy and her sisters married off to proper suitors. She wanted to believe that they would be bearing children of their own, and they would tell those children stories of her bravery. She also envisaged her nation safe because of her sacrifice. Maybe unlike her two sisters, she had what it took to endure the challenges of life in the new country.
Contrary to the densely packed houses that surrounded the palatial structure where Chaka grew up, in Mongolia no permanent structures existed. Mongols lived in numerous tent-like homes they called ger that looked as fluid as their surroundings. A turquoise line on the horizon separated the vast blue skies from an equally vast green prairie. In the distance, hills and mountains marked the boundary of the grassland. A cobblestone pathway that led to the Grand Ger and a garden nearby with two rows of trees, recently planted, broke the monotony of the scene.
Time lost its meaning in such an environment, and events were marked by thunderstorms and other natural phenomena that shaped local history. The Mongols revered their horses and learned to ride them at a very young age. From the herds that roamed the land to the distant rivers, all were constantly moving in slow motion. Once in a while, the men engaged in wrestling, momentarily halting this continuous floating, and crowds gathered to watch the hand-to-hand combat.
Genghis showed no tolerance for disobedience of any kind. Chaka had to fully contemplate the meaning of every word she used before speaking. She could never interrupt him and never expressed outward anger, resentment or pain, for fear of his reaction. Her opinions she kept mostly to herself and wrote about them at every chance.
One night, as plans were being hatched for an imminent attack on the territories of the Jin Dynasty, Genghis addressed his commanders in the main ger. Chaka was standing in a corner listening. A young commander, who seemed to have found it an opportune moment to address the Khan, rose and said, “I am of the opinion that we should postpone the attack until the heat in that region subsides a bit. That way, we would have a better chance at success.”
“I despise you and your opinions,” the Khan hissed. “I disregarded tribal affiliations, I did away with Mongol traditions and rose the likes of you to high ranks based on merit, merit,” he repeated that last word louder.
His jaw twitched as he continued, “And you expect Mongol warriors to scurry off like rodents in acclimate weather and find refuge in some hole? A little rain, a little heat, and off they go. What kind of message do we send to our enemies when we behave in such a way?
“Take him,” he commanded two of his guards. “Strech him over a scaffold, and leave him under the sun until both his body and his tongue dry up in its heat. Let this serve as a lesson to those who assume their worthless opinions can impact my decisions.”
Chaka was grateful for the red hue she had chosen earlier for her cheeks and lips and hoped no one noticed as she felt the color drain from her face.
Despite Chaka’s struggles to adapt to life in the Mongol court, confinement had taken its toll on her. One morning as she opened the felt door to her ger, allowing the sunlight to illuminate her image in the mirror, she noticed the many strands of hair that had come loose, clinging to her comb. In her reflection she could see fine lines developing at the corners of her eyes. What would become of her, she thought, if Genghis no longer found her appealing? What would happen to her if her husband passed away, leaving her at the mercy of other Mongol rulers? What if she said something, did something wrong that Genghis would not forgive? She felt a choking sensation for which she could find no relief. The frustration and anger that she could neither express nor swallow led to a sense of utter dejection and gloom.
An attendant, apparently surprised to see the door to Chaka’s ger ajar, peered in and asked permission to enter. “A soldier is bitten by a cobra and is rolling in pain in the Grand Ger,” he announced abruptly.
“Will it kill him?” Chaka asked.
“They have brought in a shaman who has knowledge of healing herbs and poisons.”
“Can I come and watch?”
“I am sure that will not be a problem, my lady.”
When they entered the Grand Ger, Genghis greeted Chaka with a frown, as if questioning why she had rushed in on an occasion where her presence was neither necessary nor appropriate. The emptiness and sense of uselessness Chaka had felt earlier, intensified. She felt as if she was slipping off the edge of a precipice.
“The remedy worked, and the fellow will recover soon,” Genghis said rather coldly, addressing no one in particular.
The shaman began to show the Khan the variety of healing herbs as well as potent poisons that he had in his wooden medicine box. As the two were speaking with their backs to Chaka and the box of medicines, she quickly removed a small vial that the shaman had mentioned its content as dangerous and fatal if swallowed.
“The person drinking only a small amount of this will die instantly,” he had explained.
The vial was too small for its vacant spot to be noticed immediately, and when the shaman turned to close the box, he did so abruptly without checking the contents.
Chaka, who had placed the vial in the folds of her sash, returned to her ger immediately. She examined her pale face in the mirror again, contemplating the life she was now leading and whether putting an end to it would be far less painful than the excruciatingly slow one she had to endure, living with her enemies and under their command.
She had heard of the tortures disobedient women of the court suffered before being killed and wondered which action of hers, purposefully or inadvertently, would lead her to such an unfortunate destiny. Maybe if she would end her life now, she would be reincarnated as a bird soaring in the skies or a doe, free to roam the earth. She was sure this action would not negatively affect her homeland. Her death would probably be a cause of sorrow and sympathy, not anger and revenge.
Chaka took one last look in the mirror, envisioning herself lying peacefully in the morgue. She tried to steady her trembling hand as she brought the poison to her lips. This would be a far better ending than the bleak future that awaited her. She would thus still the hands of time and leave the world before greater harm comes to her.
“May I come in,” said a voice outside her ger. It sounded like Borte, the woman Genghis had married when they were both very young.
Chaka quickly hid the vial in a box on her dresser and rolled aside the felt curtain. “Pray come in,” she said.
“I saw what you did,” Borte exclaimed bluntly as soon as she entered. “
You did not notice me standing in the corner of the Grand Ger, but I saw how you swiftly removed a vial out of the shaman’s box. I can only guess it was his most potent poison.”
Chaka felt color draining from her face. “I mean to do no harm to anyone.”
“No harm to anyone but yourself,” Borte said with the severity of a mother admonishing a child.
“Where did you hide it?”
Chaka, feeling utterly embarrassed and miserable, pointed to where she hid the vial, and Borte quickly removed and tucked it in her silk purse.
Borte’s eyes emanated wisdom and maturity. Chaka had an uncontrollable urge to pour out the contents of her heart. The humiliation of being captured, the politically arranged marriage, the frustration of having to adapt to an alien culture, and the constant fear of taking one wrong step or uttering one wrong word, knowing that even the smallest misunderstanding could lead to catastrophe came to the surface like bile.
Borte made a gesture with her hand to silence her. After all, they could be overheard. Borte’s knowing look and her motherly motion as she embraced Chaka proved that she understood everything without her having to explain years of sorrow and anguish. Borte drew Chaka near and the poor Chinese Princess hid her face in the folds of Borte’s gown and wept. She hadn’t been hugged by her mother for so long, and Borte’s motherly embrace soothed her. Her sobs eventually stopped, and as Borte wiped away Chaka’s tears with her handkerchief, she told her about her own marriage at a very young age to Genghis.
Borte caressed the silky strands of Chaka’s hair away from her face. “You are not alone,” she said. “I am old now but I was a young girl when I married Temujin. We lived through difficult times for the Mongols, particularly for women. We had to do with very little. Things are different now. We have more wealth today than any other nation. Yet, some things have not changed. Patience is the key to survival in the Mongol court. Remember that and try to be patient.”
The Sky Worshipers Page 3
