Genghis remained quiet. Chaka knew he despised being subordinate to others; a sense that had prompted him in his earlier life to resort to fatal vengeance against his older half-brother for his abusive behavior toward younger siblings. There and then he must have felt the power of the killer over the killed, of the conqueror over the vanquished.
Although Chaka had not personally witnessed any acts of aggression by Genghis, but the words he had uttered and the fear she saw in the eyes of captured prisoners who would prostrate, trembling before the Khan, told her how brutal a Mongol ruler could be. At times, he showed such a sweet temper that she could not even imagine him hurting the tiniest of creatures. But she knew there was another side to her husband’s character. Tales she had heard about the rape and slaughter of women and children terrified her, and she wondered about the impact of Mongol aggression on the minds of the subjugated nations. She had seen scars on the bodies of prisoners that indicated whippings, and the horror-stricken faces of female captives told her of the emotional scars they bore.
Genghis stood up, shaking the dirt off his hands, and added in a calmer manner, “This time I have sent one small delegation to make sure the king himself did not order the killings, and it was just a misstep by one individual, the governor of Otrar, who accused my messengers.” He then continued almost in a whisper, “They thought my envoys were spies. I will show them spies.”
“A great leader,” Chaka said, wanting to nurture in him the values that dignified a world power, “must understand the cultural differences that can lead to misinterpretations and improper reactions in others.”
“I have dispatched a small group of my emissaries to the very court of the Khwarazm King,” he repeated, collecting himself and sounding more confident. “I have been informed that he disagrees with his mother on this issue. I am hoping, this time, my envoys will be received with great respect. I have requested that they hand over the governor of Otrar to us and in return, their land will remain immune to our strikes.”
Genghis had mentioned to Chaka before that he had long been impressed by the Persian civilization. Their advancement in all fields of science and medicine, as well as their methods of governance, fascinated him. However, the mistreatment of his emissaries had deeply hurt and infuriated him. Despite this, Chaka knew he was wise enough to be understanding and would give the great nation whose boundaries once extended beyond imagination, another chance, especially when making such a concession would be to his advantage. After all, Genghis had other concerns.
The Mongols controlled parts of the Silk Road, but some parts remained in the hands of the Shah. This resplendent route linked China to the European and African continents and through it, tons of magnificent handcrafted merchandise, spices, and minerals were traded each year. Commercial relations with the Khwarazm Kingdom would certainly give Mongolia a greater part in such lucrative exchange. Chaka knew Genghis still found the idea of an invasion tempting. Conquering Khwarazm would place the entire Silk Route, albeit by force, under Mongolian control, and at last this thought seemed to have flowered in his mind. This way, the Mongols would gain access not only to the opportunities in trade that the route offered, but they would also have a convenient means of controlling the territories that came under their command.
Chapter Six
Baako
During the years of rampaging and blood-letting by Genghis Khan and his hordes that Chaka chronicled in secret, she had an accomplice, an African eunuch by the name of Baako whom she had learned to trust. She had no other friend with whom she could share her concerns and sorrows.
Baako, whose name meant “first-born,” had been castrated by the Mongols, and she knew deep in his heart he abhorred them for what they did. Every time their eyes met, volumes of unspoken words were exchanged between them, and she saw him as a dependable confidant when the outer limits of her patience were tested, and her soul could no longer contain the pain of confinement in Mongolia.
Baako was a nimble sort of fellow who had worked for many years at the court. Chaka would ask about the battle every time they dispatched him to help out at the front, but she never shared her entries. She would only tell him that out of female curiosity, she wanted to know what happened on the battlefield, and he would come back with stories that would make her lose sleep at night.
“Are there historians who are chronicling these events?” she asked Baako one afternoon.
“There are some foreign scholars hired by the Mongols, my lady,” Baako replied. “But they are all forced to write what pleases the Mongol Khan. Rarely do they undertake any effort beyond the permissible lines.”
It was there and then that Chaka’s journal turned into a chronicle of wars. She realized the importance of the responsibility she had toward future generations. The lessons of Mongol wars should not be lost to them. In writing her journal, she took the side of the victorious and the vanquished alike. As the advisor of the Mongol Khan, she sometimes accompanied the great commander in his foreign military adventures. Although staying at make-shift camps far from the battleground, she learned the news of the devastation through Baako. Secretly, she recorded the stories of the victims and kept her writings, so often spattered with tears, hidden from unwanted curiosity.
Chaka recalled one time, during an attack on the Jin Dynasty, how Baako came to her in a rush of excitement saying, “My lady! My lady! You don’t know what happened today. There was this man who had learned a few words in Mongolian. He fell to his knees before the Khan and asked to be spared for he had five children and a young wife to support. But he, being weak in the language, did not use the proper terms to address the conqueror. The Mongol Khan said that he would spare his life, but not that of his family. He ordered the entire family beheaded right before the man’s eyes. The poor man ended up begging the Khan to be killed as well, for he could not bear to live any longer. They left him there, mournful and wretched, probably in hopes that he would carry the news to other regions and instill in them the fear of Mongols.”
Chaka felt wretched too. But every time she recorded the events, she felt better. On one occasion, Baako told her the following account of Genghis’s war against the Jin Dynasty: “From the Chinese who had joined the Mongol Army or were taken as prisoners, the Mongols have learned how to build battering rams, siege towers, and catapults. They surrounded the walls that the Jin Emperor had constructed to protect his territories.”
“How tall were these walls?” Chaka asked.
“The walls were taller than the height of seven men, my lady, yet the Mongols could climb the barricades. They set up camps in the outskirts, placing the people under siege for a long time and preventing merchants from carrying food and supplies to them. A massacre ensued when they finally attacked and overcame the starving population.”
“I knew Temujin would be particularly merciless toward the Jin Dynasty,” Chaka said. “The envoy they had dispatched to the Mongol court before the war had the audacity to face the Khan and demand his submission, saying that their empire was a glorious civilization and that the Mongols lived on sand and dirt. Temujin had spat on the ground and sworn vengeance.”
Weeks later, when Temujin returned from the fronts, he looked as if wrath had consumed his soul. Blood-soaked to his knees, he stared at Chaka with lifeless eyes. She feared him a bit but believed that he loved her too much to ever harm her. She was, after all, considered a Mongol queen.
Once he bathed and changed into his white nightgown, Chaka decided to reach for her tea set. She had learned to soothe him during periods of contention by making tea, a choreographic art she had mastered in China, and a skill she had developed to perfection. She measured the tea, poured it into a pot to brew, and moving the teacups dexterously, she filled the containers in quick succession with the green brew. This ritual infused their surroundings with such a sensation of tranquility that the Khan looked mesmerized and the lines of frustration on his forehead fade
d away.
Chaka had used her time in the court wisely to acquire everything needed for her to become the favorite companion of Genghis. Other than the exquisite art of making tea, she had learned the poetry of the lands they had conquered and had found the means of translating them into the Mongolian language. She recited a poem every night, dramatizing it in the most delightful fashion for the Mongol Khan who melted in her loving presence. Her life in Mongolia became almost pleasant during those moments which did not last.
She had learned the rules and protocols of a palace in childhood and having come from a more genteel culture, she had the upper hand when it came to diplomacy and engagement with other nations. She displayed the honor and dignity of her upbringing and roamed among royalty like a beautiful swan. The resentment she felt in her heart for being ripped away from her family had to be buried under the ashes of memory. She had to show a calm face and an agreeable manner to become a constant companion to the Khan in matters of state and in official gatherings.
One night as a meeting adjourned with visiting Uyghur officials who had voluntarily submitted to Genghis’s authority and therefore were to remain safe, the Khan, apparently impressed by Chaka’s quiet but elegant presence, followed her to her ger. Chaka, who had not anticipated the Khan’s visit to her private space because they spent their time togbether in his magnificent pavilion, hoped that she had not left the place untidy.
As they walked in, to her shock and surprise, she saw in the light of the firepit a young Mongolian servant girl trying on her turquoise talisman in front of a small mirror placed on her black lacquered table. The girl, obviously daydreaming, initially did not realize that the Khan and his wife had entered the enclosure, and when she finally saw their reflection in the mirror, she froze, holding the talisman in mid-air. Her mouth left half-open, she appeared unable to speak.
Chaka quickly turned toward the Khan and lied, saying, “I often ask the girl to clean my place and have told her that she could play with my jewelry.”
Genghis looked fiercely at Chaka as if he knew she was lying to save the life of the poor girl. “You asked a servant girl to play with my mother’s heirloom?” he hissed.
“I am sorry. In our culture, we do allow children to play with the jewels inherited from those who have passed away. We believe it brings peace to the souls of the departed,” she lied again.
Genghis stared at her for a moment or two with a look that said he knew the baselessness of her claims. With a gesture, he dismissed the girl, and she sprinted out of the ger like a flash of lightning, dropping the talisman on the dressing table.
“I know you made up all those stories to protect the girl. Never test my resolve in punishing liers again. I ignored the matter this time because I see you are showing devotion to your Mongol subjects.”
Later that night, when the Khan left, she reached for her quill pen.
Entry by Chaka:
It is sometimes a struggle to keep up my writing. Many a time my inkwell fell, spilling its content, and my quill repeatedly broke as I rushed to inscribe every detail about the wars. The feeling that these incidences must be documented spurs me to stay up so late. These climactic moments in human history cannot just fade into oblivion. I will not let them.
The tales of Temujin’s charisma and his power to bring the warring tribes of the steppes under one command mesmerize me, as does his fierce bravery. As a young lad, he was taken captive by a rival clan that enslaved and pilloried him. Yet he managed to escape when one clansman, impressed by Temujin’s character, helped him.
There is an aura of authority about him that overwhelms people. His veracity and determination allow him to attract followers. And then there is this compassion and empathy that he shows toward those he trusts. He rescued his first wife Borte early in their marriage from a rival clan that had kidnapped her. Borte had become pregnant during captivity. This only increased his compassion toward her, and he called the baby she gave birth to, Jochi or “lodger,” never mentioning the fact that another man may have sired the child.
I am impressed by all this; yet, his reputation for ruthlessness terrifies me. I share the pride of the conquerors; but I know that many atrocities have taken place, atrocities that I have to record for the sake of the victims.
I have far more authority now than when I first came here. I demand to wear the best of clothing made with material that Turkish and Arab merchants bring with them from their lands and from China and Persia after their long journey through the Silk Road. My ger is now decorated with Chinese furnishings and a red dragon tapestry. I also use spices like ginger and cloves that the purveyors bring, instructing the cooks to prepare foods that are more to my taste.
Of all the things that the Mongols have plundered during their skirmishes with the Jin Dynasty, it is those parasols that I cherish the most. I carry them elegantly but guiltily, knowing that by flaunting them before the Mongol crowds, I share in the loot they have pillaged from my part of the world.
What concerns me the most is the war that is taking place within me; whether my cooperation with the Mongols has made me hand in glove with them, and whether I am sharing their atrocities. But what choice do I have?
Chapter Seven
The Fragile Ewer
The trees planted around the Grand Ger had shed all their summer clothes even before the gusts of late autumn winds stripped them. Dried up shreds of leaves blanketed the landscape. As the sun’s rays began to warm the cold surface of the earth, Baako, breathless from running, asked to enter Chaka’s ger. He had been sent by Chaka to her father for news of the family. She had taken the risk of disobeying Genghis, hoping she could keep Baako’s mission secret. Once alone with her, he parted his black curls to disclose an encrypted message written with henna on his scalp, enciphered codes with which Chaka had been familiar since childhood. She had learned the figures along with her alphabets, like all the other members of the Tangut Royal Family.
Asha, the military commander of Emperor Xiangzong, Chaka’s father and leader of the Tangut nation, had written the note stating in clear, concise terms that he absolutely refused to join any military campaigns against the Khwarazm Kingdom. Although the Tangut had earlier joined forces with the Mongols to confront the Jin Dynasty in China, this attack he would not support. Adding that Chaka’s father shared his sentiments, Asha had urged her to do her utmost to convince the Mongol Leader not to attack the Khwarazm Empire.
Chaka agreed, telling Baako, “The people of the Khwarazm Empire are a sophisticated nation. The Tangut people cannot be party to such carnage. Our people will only end up defeated and destroyed. I will try to convince the Mongol Khan that nothing will come out of this bloodshed, save for the destruction of the Tangut people and the Mongol nation as well.”
Chaka knew that Genghis was a proud man, a well-trained warrior, and a shrewd strategist. But his forces consisting of two hundred thousand cavalrymen were no match for Khwarazm Empire’s well-trained and sophisticated army, twice as great in numbers as the Mongol cavalry. Realizing the gravity of the situation, she felt compelled to confront her husband before he undertook this rash act. Trepidations shattered her nerves. Her mind, however, remained focused, determined. The importance of her mission gave her strength.
Without seeking permission, she walked into Genghis’s private ger, where he stayed when he needed time to contemplate. No one dared to disrupt him there, and Chaka had never done so before. But this was no ordinary moment: the fate of her nation, nay two nations, both the Tangut and the Khwarazm Empires lay in her hands.
To her surprise, the warlord received her calmly as he held in his hand an intricate shiny vessel that looked to her like melted stars.
“They call it crystal,” he said. “It is the work of Persian artisans.”
She had seen crystal before in China, but never in such luminous form. “They don’t just create artwork; they create miracles of art,�
�� she exclaimed, jumping on the opportunity his words provided. “Such a nation you do not conquer and subjugate.”
His jaw muscle twitched, but he kept gazing at the ewer as if marveling at the intricacy of the instrument. A fragile loop forming the handle stretched from the mouth to a turquoise-blue sphere that held the clear top and bottom of the pot-bellied container together.
“The emissaries that I had dispatched to the court of Khwarazm Shah returned to us this morning, beard shaven, humiliated and beaten up, carrying with them the severed head of the lead envoy. This time, the only message I have for them is war. No one humiliates me and my people repeatedly.” He said this in a surprisingly calm tone and added, “I have been to the holy mountain of Burkhan Khaldun to seek wisdom from the sky above, and I have made up my mind to attack Khwarazm territories. If they have no respect for us, we have none for them.”
Chaka, her lips quivering, began first inaudibly, then more clearly, “I beg of you to refrain from attacking the Khwarazm Kingdom. They have sophisticated armies and have dispatched them in the past to lands as far away as Rome. My people have been your faithful allies up until now, but an attack on Khwarazm territories could leave them exposed to retaliatory measures by their vengeful king.”
Many a time Chaka would open her fan and hold it in front of her face to hide her expression when agitated. But this time, she did not do so, exposing the concern in her countenance. She had learned to charm her way in and out of difficult situations, her beauty being an asset that helped her in this regard. Now things were different, however, and matters far more serious. Her mind restless, Chaka tried to maintain her composure.
“Your people, your people,” Genghis said as if fury like fire consumed his soul. “After all this time, are the Mongols not your people?” He was quiet for a moment, turning away from her. She felt miserable. At length he spoke, his face distorted with contemplations that were obviously bothersome to him. “You have been communicating with the Tangut Court, haven’t you? You have somehow managed to contact them despite my clear command that you refrain from doing so. Otherwise, you would not have known their position on this matter.”
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