Chapter Seven
The Rug Handlers
Tired by the endless shopping, the princess rested upon the soft, colorful cushions of a hookah shop and along with her companions began drinking sweet tea while they awaited a lunch specially prepared for them. Reyhan was the first to notice that the gharavols approaching them had features that belonged to some faraway land; high cheekbones, slanted eyebrows, almond shaped eyes and long thin mustaches. As they came close, they drew their daggers. Before she could open her mouth to scream, they began their ambush. Nearby shop owners and merchants immediately hid behind their counters in fear.
The dark figure that had appeared before Reyhan had his face covered. His features were not visible, save for his eyes. Those eyes almost looked innocent, even apologetic. “I do not wish to harm you,” he said in broken Persian, his words washing over her like the sweet waters of the Caspian Sea; he was her enemy, yet his voice sounded so calming, even reassuring.
“I have to carry you far away from here, but I will not harm you.” He paused, then added, “I beg of you to come with me.”
Beg of me? Reyhan wondered.
His hand caressed her face when he tied a piece of cloth over her mouth, making her shiver slightly at the unfamiliar touch, but it did not feel unpleasant. Although the why in her gaze and the frown on her brow must have made him feel like the villain that he was, the magical allure to their encounter left Reyhan confused. She did not feel fear, but something else entirely. Every impulse that should have made her run away melted into a form of submissiveness one feels toward a protector.
The princess and the women accompanying her were each gagged and rolled into a stolen rug. The Mongol spy, hiding under the table, jumped out and used the opportunity to pull off one of Reyhan’s boots as a souvenir to be cherished later.
The fake gharavols held a roll of rug each on their right shoulders, secured with their left hands, thus partially covering their faces. In such manner, they left through the back exit of the bazaar in broad daylight. They mounted horses that were awaiting their arrival. From these, Ogodei claimed his black stallion. They left the scene calmly as if ordered to carry the rugs purchased by the princess for her future home.
The other shopkeepers throughout the length of the bazaar had not seen the spectacle or heard the noise, persumably under the impression that the lovely princess and her companions were shopping elsewhere. No one, not even some sentries stationed at the proximity of the bazaar, reported anything out of the ordinary. The few merchants who had been witness to the spectacle looked too frightened to speak, and by the time they did so it was already too late.
The Mongols carried the fragile bundles with ease to the Mongol camp in the outskirts of the city. Later, however, as the story was told a thousand times by a thousand tongues and the news traveled far and wide, people shook their heads in regret remarking, “if only the guards had been more alert.”
When the rug handlers finally brought forth their precious cargo, Ogodei expressed his hope that the presence of the Persian fairies would help Genghis Khan forget the memory of the earlier incident that had left him in a sour mood. They unrolled the rugs before the Mongol warlord, and the chambermaids stood trembling. The princess, however, remained a portrait of propriety.
She rose gracefully, taking time to smooth out her skirt like a flower unfolding its petals. The layers of fine silk that covered her body moved like a dream with each motion. One of the guards who spoke some Persian asked her to bow before Genghis Khan, leader of the Mongols, pointing to where the Great Khan sat. She only made a slight bow with her head to acknowledge the Khan.
Curiosity made her look up to find a muscular man of commanding stature and handsome features before her. His intense gaze conveyed power, resilience and remorselessness, or maybe her imagination made her think so.
They were in a tent-like structure with a fire glowing in the center. She watched the ruby-colored late afternoon sun through an opening as it melted into the horizon. About two dozen alien warriors sat around the tent talking. Despite the torn shoulder of her topcoat, with one boot missing and her long braids fallen out in disarray, Reyhan’s radiant beauty appeared to have left those present awestruck. The Mongol Khan looked angry; however, ready to crumble her beauty under his feet.
“Princess,” Genghis said, his tone formal but bitter, “your father, Khwarazm Shah, has murdered and mutilated my envoys who were only seeking trade with him. On more than one occasion, I sent emissaries to your land, hoping for trade relations. But each time my ambassadors were treated like game. What do you have to say for your family?”
Reyhan was about to flinch when she heard the name of Khwarazm Shah but tried to remain impassive, the safety of her loyal companions on her mind. They were girls about her own age who had served her earnestly through joys and sorrows, and she wished no harm to come to them. She maintained her calm for their sake. Within her heart, however, fear took root, but like most members of royalty, she had been taught how to place a firm lid on her emotions. She turned to him and spoke.
“Sir,” she said her voice calm and steady, “I do not know you and do not understand why you have brought me here.”
“Be careful not to address me inappropriately,” Genghis Khan’s voice thundered, “for you are but a captive, royal or not. And I am the ruler of Mongolia, and I shall stand no insult.”
The tranquil ocean was not disturbed by the roaring of the lion standing before her.
“Your Majesty,” Reyhan rephrased her words after a short pause, her tone gentle, “I do not know why I was brought here. I believe you have been misinformed, for I am no kin of the Khwarazm King. Quite the contrary, we are despised by him.”
“Are you not a princess?” he raised his voice a pitch higher as he spoke. Her serene complexion underwent no change.
“Yes,” she replied, oblivious to the outburst, “I belong to the Seljuk Dynasty. My grandfather had ruled the land before power was wrested out of his hands by his own servant, the predecessor of the man we know today as Khwarazm Shah.”
Genghis Khan surveyed his men. The warriors who had squatted around the tent kept grinning for they must have assumed the Khan was going to take revenge on the trembling girls. They did not understand the language being spoken but could surely see gestures or emotional outbursts. Some of them he had earlier dispatched to the bazaar. After the disclosure by the princess, however, the attitude of the Khan changed. The stern rays of his gaze made all the men wipe the humor off their faces immediately and sit more attentively and respectfully.
Further explanation was unnecessary because the Khan noticed how faded and timeworn the princess’s beautiful outfit looked. He became pensive since he could not fathom what it was about this fragile girl that he found so disconcerting. Reyhan used the back of two fingers to tuck behind her pink shell of an ear, brown silken strands that had strayed onto her delicate face. The princess had merely pulled her hair away from her face, but that very feminine motion just like the way Temujin’s mother used to brush away her hair, affected the Khan deeply. Hoelun, as lovely as she was in her younger days, did not have Reyhan’s enchanting beauty, but so much about this princess’s calm demeanor and soft voice reminded him of her.
The Mongol Khan spoke at length, his voice much calmer, “My spies have informed me that you were treated like a princess in the Grand Bazaar when in fact your family no longer rules Persia.”
“One attains royal status by noble birth, not by taking over lands and territories,” Reyhan replied with a noticeable hint of sarcasm in her voice. In the battle of minds and spirits, she had won and in the battle of hearts even more so.
The exchange between Genghis and the Persian Princess had clearly attracted the attention of those present. There was complete silence within the ger, save for two fellow officers quietly conversing in a corner. In the silence, the voice of one of them, who had obviou
sly found the Khan’s weakness before women of beauty risible, was heard by all when he said, “Looks like we have another Chaka here.” The Khan’s stern gaze lingered on him for more than a few seconds, an indication that this intrusion of his would not go unpunished.
Chapter Eight
The Heir to the Mongol Throne
Reyhan felt the intensity of someone’s gaze from the right corner of the tent. She turned to find the brown eyes of her kidnapper, a man in his mid-thirties, with handsome features, long black hair, and thin mustache that curled under his chin. Another look confirmed that she was not mistaken, for he had the same stature as the masked man who had brought her there. He smiled at her, apparently noticing the lingering stare. Transfixed by the encounter, she lowered her gaze demurely. He stood not far from where she was, smiling mirthfully as if he challenged her and yet found her amusing.
The shrewd Khan must have noticed this exchange, for his eyes moved from one to the other, indicating that he realized the special attention his son was giving to the young captive. After all, the emotional attachment of two young people is sometimes difficult to conceal because of the curious way they regard one another and the sensitivity they show to each other’s presence. An experienced eye discerns such attachments.
The Mongol Khan ordered the maidens to be transported to Mongolia, as his soldiers readied themselves for an all-out invasion of Khwarazm territories. Upon howdahs mounted on camels, the group left the outskirts of Samarkand for Karakorum, the tent city which was slowly becoming the seat of Mongol power. Workers quickly disassembled the makeshift tents and rolled them away with all their contents, leaving no sign of their former existence.
As Reyhan and her chambermaids were carried off to Mongolia, the Mongol army successfully traveled through the desert of Kyzyl Kum stunning the population of the legendary city of Bukhara with a frontal attack that paralyzed their resistance and burned the lush oasis to the ground.
On their way to Mongolia, Reyhan could feel that they were approaching a much colder climate. The frequency of thunderstorms and showers of hail that she witnessed made clear the reason for the Mongols’ obsessive fear of the sky, an issue she learned about during the journey. Their land appeared bare and exposed to the elements. A flash of lightning seemed far more dramatic in Mongolia than in the cities where she had lived.
The Steppes, centuries after the birth of Christ, had remained unchanged since that auspicious day. Unlike the rivers Onon and Kerulon that border it, the prairie in between rolled like the sands encased in an hourglass, returning with the seasons to the very spot where it all started. Throughout the journey, Reyhan had noticed the barren landscape. Their quest for conquering fertile lands may have been borne out of necessity, rather than from the thirst for power and glory. Even Genghis’s cunning ways and machinations could be a cover for his basic instinct to survive.
Reyhan was assigned a ger as soon as they arrived in Karakorum. Her maids all shared a spacious one next to hers. This provided her with some degree of privacy while the girls were at her service whenever she needed them. Not long after Reyhan settled down, an African eunuch who introduced himself as Baako and knew enough Persian to communicate with her, brought a large bowl and a pitcher of warm water and asked permission to wash her tired feet. Reyhan saw so much compassion in the eyes of the eunuch that as he knelt before her, she involuntarily uttered the question that had been on her mind throughout the long journey.
“Who is this Chaka?”
“Oh’ my lady,” he pleaded as tears welled up in his eyes, “do not mention her name if you value your life. She was the apple of everyone’s eyes, particularly that of the Khan.”
“What happened to her?”
“There was a yearning in her to speak her mind, and she willingly laid down her life in hopes that others could live.”
He then relayed the story of Chaka and added, “The extreme weather in this God forsaken land, the frequent thunderstorms, and the winter blizzard they call zud, leave people vulnerable to natural phenomena. Life is difficult in these parts and that has hardened the hearts of the Mongols. Many have become their victims, including Chaka.”
Reyhan shivered as she heard this.
“She was killed for she spoke her mind,” Baako said. “As a wise man once said, in this place, one’s teeth must serve as the prison bars for one’s tongue.”
The Seljuk Princess enjoyed the company of Baako who had entrusted her with Chaka’s manuscript in the hope that the recording of Mongol history would continue. The eunuch translated parts of the manuscript for her, and Reyhan quickly realized the importance of Chaka’s writing and vowed to continue in the same tradition.
As Reyhan held the manuscript in her hands for the first time, she felt a sense of mission. Her life here in Mongolia would not be in vain. She now had a duty to fulfill what Chaka had left unfinished. Baako used every opportunity to inform Reyhan about the character of the Mongols, lest she suffered a similar fate to that of Chaka.
On one occasion Baako told her, “Genghis experienced great calamities as a child. But having had to live in the wild throughout his younger days has allowed him to possess a superb sense of his surroundings. He can almost smell a traitor. He trusts only a small circle of his close kin and like a wolf is merciless to his foes. One might even say that he has taken on the characteristics of the wild beasts he grew up with, for he is cunning like a fox, sharp like a serpent and wise like a lion. How much of that he has passed on to his four sons with Borte, remains to be seen.”
Reyhan had learned from Baako that when the Mongol warriors finally arrive after weeks of battle in Persia, a gathering would be held to announce the appointment of the new heir to the throne. Upon the arrival of the warriors, a celebration took place in the large white ger of Genghis that could easily encompass hundreds of guests under its magnificent dome. The ger was decorated with a lining of bright yellow silk. Outside, the dome of the sky looked magnificent too. Fixed constellations twinkled, and shooting stars waged war against one another, drawing glittering lines upon the dark blue domain.
A long stretch of white felt, unrolled on the floor, displayed cooked meats of horses and oxen placed in large ornamented tureens. For drink, they served the fermented milk of the mare they called airaq. A large bowl of pomegranates, a rare imported commodity brought there from Persia took center stage at the feast.
Genghis sat cross-legged upon a richly embroidered cushion next to the fire, the most honorable seat under the dome of the tent. Broad shouldered, long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, his skin tanned by the sun, Genghis’s stature certainly appeared impressive, despite the signs of age. Ogodei, chosen by the emperor as Reyhan’s betrothed sat next to his father. He clearly had a good sense of humor, because he laughed quite a bit and appeared to be an affable sort of character.
Although the story of Chaka told by Baako left Reyhan with much anxiety, in some ways, she felt lucky that she was not to wed one of Ogodei’s two older brothers. She cared little for her bethroted in Baghdad as well, never having laid eyes on him. Sitting far from one another on the right side of the ger, Genghis’s two older sons eyed each other spitefully and stared begrudgingly at Ogodei. After all, he had not only endeared himself to their father but had also found a Persian beauty for a mate.
Reyhan did not know exactly where to sit. She noticed all the women huddled in the left corner from the door and took a seat next to them. The meat on the bone served to her in a wooden bowl smelled half-cooked, and when she forced herself to take a bite, tasted bland as if no spices were used. If it weren’t for the smell of smoke that rose from the food, an indication that it was seared over fire, she would not have been able to hold it down. No bowls and pitchers of water for washing hands were to be seen, so she felt grateful she had held on to her handkerchief from Samarkand.
Smoke from the fire escaped through the opening at the top of the ger. An
imal skins, drawings of birds and fish that appeared to be Chinese, pieces of handmade artifacts shaped like various animals, and carpets that Reyhan recognized as being Persian-made hung from the walls. Noticing that the other Mongolian women of stature were paying full attention to her every gesture and reaction, Reyhan nodded and smiled approvingly at the haphazard decorations.
Through the heat wave that radiated from the fire pit, Reyhan could see the blurred faces of Mongol warriors sitting around the ger. In the dead silence before Genghis Khan announced his heir and successor, everyone seemed to be contemplating the impact the announcement would have on their nation and subsequently the world’s future.
“I realize,” Genghis began, his voice booming through the enclosure, “that like my father, death may come to me unexpectedly. Therefore, I feel it incumbent upon me to choose a successor while I am still of sound body and mind.”
He kept his eyes for a moment on Subutai Bahadur and Chepe Noyon, his most cherished army commanders and added, “I have contemplated long and hard before reaching the decision of which I am about to inform you. I do not want our young nation to fall into disarray as my family became after my father’s demise. Upon my departure from this world, all who are present, particularly the lead commanders of the Mongol Army, Subutai Bahadur and Chepe Noyon, must heed the orders of Ogodei as you have heeded my commands. I have found him in possession of a solid character, and I have chosen him as my heir and successor to lead the Mongol nation in the event of my death.”
The Sky Worshipers Page 9
