Among the items looted from the defeated army during the Battle of Mohi was a precious piece of round metal with a wooden handle attached. The coin-shaped piece, made of gold, was the official seal of Hungary. Two rows of Latin writing surrounded the embossed image of the Hungarian King, seated upon the royal throne, wearing his cloak and crown. Subutai kept playing with it and appeared deep in thought when Bolad asked, “How do we keep the Hungarians from remobilizing against us?”
“What if King Bela himself urged his countrymen not to mobilize because . . . doing so would jeopardize his plans to negotiate with the Mongols?” he replied, smiling his sinister smile while flashing the metal piece before the eyes of his confused men. “Anything bearing the imprint of this seal is as good as the words coming right out of His Majesty’s mouth.”
He then ordered for a very convincing announcement by the King of Hungary to be drafted by Bolad and firmly pressed the ink-covered seal upon it. In the dark hours of late evening that day, Bolad placed the announcement on the door of the main courthouse.
The Mongol invasion left a large portion of the Hungarian army as well as many civilians dead. Many more were wounded and maimed. After all, what are aunts and uncles, siblings and family; what are collective joy, continuity and love, mutual happiness and shared pain to those who seek gold and silver.
Words could not describe the horror they had witnessed. Therefore, they sought refuge in silence. A nauseating feeling of loss, of being powerless, of vulnerability, compounded their grief. “Why do they hate us so?” they bemoaned without uttering a word. “We shall overcome,” they cried in silence without shedding a tear.
As the Mongol forces approached the gates of Vienna, Subutai asked to see Batu, stating that he had an urgent message just delivered to him.
“We need to return to Mongolia,” Subutai declared upon entering Batu’s ger.
“We are at the borders of Vienna after all that we have suffered. We cannot just retreat.” Batu replied, frustrated with the suggestion.
“Ogodei has died. A Khuriltai is taking place in which you need to be participating.”
“Who will replace Ogodei?” Batu asked, shocked.
“Toregene has struggled long and hard to ensure the succession of her son Guyuk, although he was no favorite of Ogodei. Indeed, Guyuk is so unpopular that the Khuriltai is reluctant to acknowledge him as Khaqan. Word is that Toregene will serve as a regent until a final decision is made.”
Batu turned away from Subutai as if to ponder the developments. “That will be the end of Karakorum. I am not returning. I have struggled long and hard too, and I do not intend to become a subject of Guyuk or any other Mongol Khaqan. I want to rule my own territories.”
“Rebelling against him will have consequences,” Subutai replied, looking concerned.
“Not if he cannot reach me,” Batu said.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“I will be staying in the lands adjacent to the Volga River, establishing, I assure you, an empire of my own.”
“You are not serious, are you?” Subutai said, frowning.
“Just look at the loads of silver and gold that we have looted out of Europe. Do you expect me, Subutai, as intelligent and experienced as you are, to hand all this over to my rival, Guyuk, and pay homage to him? What mindless creature would I be to submit to defeat without waging war, to hand over the reins to my opponent before the match even begins? I almost perished over the bridge that crossed the Sajo River.”
“Will your men stay with you?” Subutai asked.
“My men no longer see me as an inexperienced commander but a Mongol hero. I possess the wealth, the glory, the name, the lineage and the reputation needed to establish my own empire.”
“And engage in continuous combat with Guyuk and his men. That is exactly what Genghis Khan feared; for if you fight among yourselves, you will be too weak to confront your external enemies.” Subutai warned.
“My intention is not to fight Guyuk, Subutai, but to live beyond his reach.”
“I would have to return to Mongolia to report on the change of circumstances,” Subutai said matter-of-factly.
“Take those nine huge sacks of human ears we cut off from fallen Hungarian soldiers as proof of our victory.”
Not long after Subutai’s return, news reached Batu that Guyuk was indeed chosen as the next Khaqan. Guyuk’s coronation took place in August 1246, and by April 1248 as he made an attempt to attack Batu, he died on the way. The death was attributed to his poor health, and the matter quickly dismissed. Yet, suspicions lingered. Some believed that he was actually poisoned. Guyuk’s death gave an opportunity to Princess Sorkhokhtani who had groomed her four sons for the position of Khaqan over the years.
Back in Karakorum, Krisztina wrote the following.
Entry by Krisztina:
It is difficult to write when paper is so scarce. I have to be careful writing, careful with the ink; careful no one walks in on me. But what a poor captive like me can do. It was not a surprise to me that the Mongols won the Battle of Mohi. They seem to be winning every war they engage in, regardless of who their enemy is. The escapades of the Mongols at times take on a lurid hue, giving me nightmares. Seeing the devastation in Hungary, Bulgaria submitted to Mongol rule without resistance. That was wise! God knows how many lives were spared. Some in Hungary hid their treasures and burnt down their homes and farms to leave nothing for their foes. But the Mongols caught those who were known to be among the rich and bound them above simmering fires until they confessed, and the treasures were disclosed. I feel pity for them. They are my brethren in religion, but war knows no mercy. Batu had ordered that out of every fallen Hungarian soldier they cut off an ear. They brought back sacks full of them. First, I thought it was rotten animal flesh. I swooned when I realized these were their “trophies.” I turned so pale that those about me assumed that I had died.
Chapter Fifteen
Captive and Captivated
With the passage of months, Dounia’s countenance fell. Hulagu was away most of the time engaging in battles, smothering uprisings of the subjugated and mitigating skirmishes among Mongol rivals. Reyhan had noticed how utterly homesick Dounia appeared. Early in winter, however, when the Mongol men prepared for their annual hunt, excitement returned to Karakorum.
The Mongolian winter games were meant to keep the cavalry occupied and in shape. They commenced when the rivers froze, but before snow accumulations reached a level that would drive the animals, mostly wild sheep, ibex, saiga and black-tailed gazelle as well as larger animals like wild boars to their shelters. The challenge was to attack the animals—whether rodent, fowl or mammal—in an open field without the use of weapons. Thus men displayed their strength and courage. On such occasions, women participated as spectators.
On a chilly day in The Year of the Tiger, rows of huntsmen took their positions as they began to slowly converge, tightening the circumference of the entrapped animals who became more agitated with the constriction of their habitat. The hunters could not kill the animals until flags were raised to indicate the culmination of the hunt. At this early stage, they only had to contain the beasts in the ring.
The excitement and thrill of the game brought both Dounia and Reyhan out of their lodgings. The recent news of Baako’s death had left Reyhan quite despondent. Therefore, she saw this as a much-needed opportunity to overcome her grief. Baako had died of bloody flux as he accompanied Hulagu in one of his military ventures. For Reyhan, he had been a friend, a companion and a shoulder to cry on. Without his caring support, she feared she would not be able to handle issues with a calm composure as before. Yet, she knew life had to go on.
The two ladies had wrapped themselves in fur-lined overcoats in the chilly morning and holding glasses of warm goat’s milk, cheered their favorite hunters. When a row of spears rose in the air at the start of the ceremony, Reyhan looked at
Dounia’s face. The spear-like shadows of her long eyelashes formed lines upon her pale cheeks as she looked down bashfully. How many hearts might those lash-spears break! She saw that one of the Kashiks (imperial guards) took particular notice of Dounia and feared that her restless young ward would fall prey to the sentry’s advances. Torn between her love of Poland and her new life and attachments in Mongolia, the European Princess appeared vulnerable, and Reyhan worried that she could easily be swayed by a young, ambitious warrior. She kept a close eye on her ward as a result.
The fine-looking Kashik, with his eyes focused on Dounia, almost allowed a hare to escape, but quickly dismounted and chased after the animal. He slid through the dirt field and to the awe of the spectators, grabbed the hare. He looked up, his hands and outfit muddied during the struggle, and smiled at Dounia who was clearly beside herself with excitement. She was cheering and laughing gaily to the verge of losing her honorary place among the royalty until Reyhan gave her a stern look of disapproval that warned her about overstepping acceptable boundaries.
The entrapment of the animals continued for several hours with the apparently self-composed Dounia casting a glance in Reyhan’s direction every so often to meet her guardian’s approval. As the sun went down, the weather became too chilly for outdoor activity. Reyhan, using the drop in temperatures as an excuse, gently led Dounia away.
Sorkhokhtani was the only woman in the court, other than Reyhan, who fully supported Dounia, after all, the girl had brought so much joy to her son’s life. The other women were more cordial than kind to the young princess, and some displayed outright animosity.
As they walked side-by-side, Dounia complained to Reyhan about the pettiness of some Mongol women. “Arrogance seems to be a virtue in their culture. They feel superior when they can belittle you.”
“There are all types of people among the inhabitants of every land. When you confront indecency or outright evil, leave such people to their own devices and pay no attention to them. Soon they will leave you alone.”
A recent storm had left their path strewn with debris. Heads down, skirts slightly lifted, they watched for any obstacles along their way. Reyhan stopped. They had reached a crossroad where the two paths leading to their respective abodes diverged. She then looked her young companion straight in the eyes and said, “I noticed that sentry paying particular attention to you. I can tell you horror stories about women who crossed the line when their Mongol husbands were away.” Reyhan had heard things, mostly through palace gossip, about instances where unfaithful women were summarily executed or exiled into the wilderness.
“I was just laughing at the spectacle,” Dounia said, defensively.
“You are but a child. Your mouth still smells of your mother’s milk. I see you frolicking among horses and goats and cannot but wonder that you may have found a greater degree of freedom here in the Steppes than you had ever enjoyed in the confines of a European castle. But you must learn your limits which may not seem defined to you at this time.
“I am sorry that my behavior met your disapproval. In fact, there seem to be very few ladies who approve of anything that I do here. Of all people, Reyhan, you must have sympathy for me. Life for me has been a fairytale turned into a nightmare.”
“Things could have been a lot worse had not Hulagu rescued you.”
“He rescued me all right, but then left me months at a time while he went pursuing God knows what in remote parts of the world,” Dounia said as tears welled up in her eyes.
Reyhan knew better than to pursue the matter further. They parted with Reyhan returning to her palace to join Sorkhokhtani for tea.
Sorkhokhtani was staying with Reyhan for the duration of winter. Halfway through their conversation, Reyhan brought up her concerns over Dounia. They both seemed to have noticed that the young European Princess was beginning to adapt to her new life, but there were matters about which they both worried.
“Dounia wants to follow the old pattern set by her family in Europe, although somehow unsure of the righteousness of their ways. At the same time, she seems to enjoy the sort of freedom from the rules and restrictions of the Europeans courts that her new environment offers, and for which she feels a sense of guilt,” Reyhan said.
“I believe there are elements of Mongolian culture and way of life that Dounia finds very much enticing. Mongol women have opportunities few in other parts of the world enjoy. Some lead their own clans; some take part in the army; others like me rule their own territories. Of course, she is not inclined to admit this,” Sorkhokhtani said.
“I know. I dare not mention this to Dounia, but she seems to be both captive and captivated, for she is now exposed to so many new ideas and new ways of thinking,” Reyhan said, smiling.
“She plays that instrument of hers she calls a lyre beautifully, the one our artisans built for her. The sound mesmerizes the listeners, and Hulagu is almost in a trance when she plays.” Sorkhokhtani said, sipping her tea.
“I was watching Dounia today, taking great interest in the annual hunt.” She stopped without mentioning the sentry.
“She is still young,” Sorkhokhtani said.
“Dounia, true to her name, represents the current state of the world. I get the feeling that the transformation she is undergoing is what awaits the world in the near future,” Reyhan said.
Although Dounia felt as if the life she coveted was beyond her reach, she began to appreciate the Mongol style of clothing, particularly their fur-lined overcoats that she had her tailor fashion into a cape. Of course, there were also aspects of her European culture that in turn impressed the Mongol ladies. Dounia braided her hair in a way that was unusual, wrapping her tresses around her head and tying in at the nape of her neck as if a serpent had bit its own tail circling past her temples. The hair-do made her look quite handsome. Soon the Mongol women began imitating Dounia’s style to the sardonic reaction of their husbands who only laughed.
One morning, Dounia walked in to speak with Reyhan and found Sorkhokhtani instead. She caught the older woman making an awkward attempt at braiding her hair in the European style. The latter blushed deeply and tried to quickly undo what she had already done.
“You like my hairstyle, don’t you?” Dounia asked, smiling openly. “There is a trick to it. Let me show you.”
Sorkhokhtani smiled back and seemed only slightly embarrassed now that she saw her daughter-in-law’s genuine interest in her hairstyle.
“It’s actually quite simple. You divide your hair in three and fold the two sides over the middle part, just like that. Here, hold this mirror.”
As Dounia handed over the mirror to Sorkhokhtani, she noticed her own reflection in it. She tried to quickly wipe away the frown that gave her a gloomy expression, but she was not quick enough for Sorkhokhtani’s searching look.
“Is Hulagu treating you well?” Sorkhokhtani asked.
“Oh, yes,” Dounia replied, a bit too abruptly to sound believable.
“Is there anything that bothers you?” Sorkhokhtani insisted, rephrasing.
“No, everything is fine,” Dounia said, forcing a smile.
“I raised Hulagu. I have taught him to be patient with others. I do not deny the fact that he sometimes shows little mercy toward his subjects, but deep down there is a sense of decency in him. Try to delve into that decency and be good to each other.”
“I will,” Dounia replied meekly.
“He does intend to travel to Kievan Rus to visit his cousin Batu. I can suggest that you accompany him. I think the journey would do you both good.”
Dounia smiled and embraced Sorkhokhtani for making the suggestion.
Chapter Sixteen
The Enchanted Fountain
Dounia was shocked to see Hulagu carrying a dead deer into their bedchamber. “You know how I hate the carcass of dead animals.”
Hulagu ignored her comment and placed the s
till bleeding animal on her dresser.
“I heard you and Reyhan participated as spectators at the annual hunt,” he said
“Yes. What about it?” she asked, a bit defensive.
“I see that the maneuvers of some of the sentries impress you.”
“Nothing impresses me more than seeing my husband more often.”
“I am a warrior first and foremost as I have mentioned so many times. And wars require that I stay away from Karakorum for months at a time. During those months, I expect my wife to be at her best behavior. Your conduct as a member of the Mongol court matters.”
“I have been at my best behavior and always will be,” she replied firmly. “Now pray take that bloody thing out of my chamber or I will ride my mare all the way back to Poland, and you see if you can stop me.”
She had managed to make him laugh, and all was well again, for now. Dounia knew Mongol spies among the spectators must have informed Hulagu. However, she could not help noticing that her mother-in-law kept asking questions about her married life in a way that began to make her paranoid.
“Did you disclose anything about my troubles with Hulagu to my mother-in-law?” Dounia asked, barging into Reyhan’s chamber unannounced later that evening.
There was no need for any such disclosure. Sorkhokhtani being a very smart woman could easily see the telltale signs in Dounia’s face. At the same time, Reyhan knew there was no point in arguing with Dounia. She would believe what she wanted to believe.
Reyhan made an attempt to change the subject and putting a smile on her face said, “I just received the news that Mongke is chosen by the Khuriltai to be the next Khaqan, and he intends to make your husband the commander of Mongol Forces.”
“Pray tell me before my confidence in our friendship shatters. Did you or did you not speak to Sorkhokhtani about my troubles?” Dounia repeated her questioning, clearly unfazed by the news.
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