by Jin Yong
Before long, clouds of dust rose in the south, quickly followed by thousands of men on horses chasing Chagatai and Tchila’un; Jebe could just make out the banners behind them.
“Ong Khan’s men,” he shouted.
They were divided into several teams and were trying to outflank Temujin’s scouts. But Chagatai and Tchila’un were lying flat in their saddles, spurring their horses as hard as they could.
“Guo Jing, we will help them!” Jebe cried.
The two men galloped down the hill. Guo Jing’s steed rushed in excitement to join the other horses and within moments he was close to Tchila’un. He felt a rush of air. Guo Jing released three arrows, hitting the first three of Ong Khan’s men. He then drove his horse behind Chagatai and Tchila’un and continued firing. Another man fell. Jebe drew up beside Guo Jing and he too shot and killed several men. But with a continuous swell of soldiers crashing towards them, how could they possibly triumph?
Chagatai, Tchila’un, Jebe and Guo Jing drew close to the hill where Temujin and the others were standing guard. Arrows rained down from higher ground, forcing Ong Khan’s men to hold back.
Temujin kept watch from where he stood. Ong Khan’s army was closing in from all sides. It would be near impossible to break their formation, so the best they could do, Temujin realised, was to employ their best delaying tactics. “Invite Senggum to come and speak with me,” he roared.
Senggum ascended under an umbrella of a dozen shields. He was in high spirits and called out, “Temujin, time to surrender!”
“Please tell me first how it is I came to offend my adopted father Ong Khan so that he attacks me?”
“We Mongolians have lived in our separate tribes for generations, dividing our flocks between us,” Senggum replied. “You tell me, Temujin, why it is you insist on violating the ways of our ancestors by mixing the clans. My father frequently tells us that, in this, you do wrong.”
“We Mongolians live in subjugation to the Jin Empire which demands of us a tribute of tens of thousands of our cattle and horses each year,” came Temujin’s reply. “Do you think this is proper? We will starve if it continues. Why should we fear the Jin? They are a threat only when we fight each other. I have always had a good relationship with my adoptive father. There is no hatred between our families. This is the work of the Jin, they sow discord between us!”
Temujin’s words moved Senggum’s soldiers, who found he spoke with reason.
“We Mongolians are warriors, all of us,” Temujin continued. “Why shouldn’t we take gold and silver from the Jin, rather than giving away our best fleeces? Why should we be the ones to pay tribute? There are idle men among us, to be sure, but there are many who work hard to herd our cattle. Why should they toil and provide for the ones who refuse to do their part? Why not give them more reward? May the lazy be left to starve – they bring it on themselves!”
Mongolians were organised around a clan principle that held their cattle for all. Herds had been growing and the tribes had learned from the Chinese to use iron tools and weapons. But in reality, as Temujin knew, most herders wished to keep the fruits of their own labour, just as soldiers are reluctant to share the spoils of war with those who did not go to fight.
Senggum was disturbed by the effect Temujin’s words were having on his men. “Lay down your weapons and surrender! All I have to do is give one signal with my whip and ten thousand arrows will come raining down upon you!”
The situation was becoming critical and Guo Jing did not know what to do. Just then his eye was caught by a young officer draped in a silvery grey sable coat at the foot of the hill. His horse was pacing and in his hand he carried a long broadsword. Tusakha, Senggum’s son! The bully from his childhood, the boy who had tried to release leopards on Tolui. Guo Jing could not pretend to understand why Ong Khan, Senggum and Jamuka were turning on Temujin. They had always lived side by side in peace. The only explanation he could come up with was a plot by Tusakha and his father, under the influence of the Sixth Prince of the Jin. Vicious lies. Maybe if I capture Tusakha and force him to admit it, then everyone can be reconciled? Guo Jing spurred his horse and sped down the hill.
Before anyone could stop him, he drew up to the young man.
Tusakha was startled by Guo Jing’s approach and sliced his blade in defence. Guo Jing ducked into his saddle just in time, grabbed at Tusakha’s left wrist and pressed on the artery in one of Zhu Cong’s Split Muscles Lock Bones moves. Tusakha was rendered powerless and Guo Jing tugged him from his saddle.
Just then Guo Jing heard the whistle of something speeding through the air towards him. He squeezed his thighs, and with a lurch, his small horse leapt back up the hill.
“Fire!”
Guo Jing hauled Tusakha onto his saddle behind him. Senggum’s men could not shoot at him for fear of hurting their commander’s son.
Once at the summit, Guo Jing threw Tusakha on the ground at Temujin’s feet. “Great Khan, it’s all the fault of this beggar. He can tell you himself!”
Guo Jing’s actions delighted Temujin and he placed the point of his lance on the young man’s chest. Looking down at Senggum, he called, “Tell your men to retreat three hundred paces!”
Senggum had no choice but to comply. He ordered his soldiers to retreat back to their positions around the hill, forming a perimeter so that Temujin’s horses could not break through.
Temujin praised Guo Jing for his bravery and told him to tie the captive’s hands behind his back with his belt.
Senggum sent three messengers in succession to negotiate. The Khan would be spared if he released Tusakha. But each time Temujin sent the messenger back with his ears sliced off.
Deadlock. The sun edged down below the horizon. Fearing an attack once the light had faded, Temujin urged his men not to lose their focus.
As midnight drew near, a man dressed in white approached the foot of the hill.
“It’s me, Jamuka. I wish to speak with my sworn brother Temujin.”
“Come up!” the Great Khan replied.
His pace was slow at first, but once he caught sight of Temujin’s commanding figure at the top he started to run as if to embrace him. But Temujin drew his sword from his belt and called, “You consider me your sworn brother, still?”
Jamuka sighed and sat down cross-legged on the grass. “Brother,” he said, “you are already a tribal chief. Why do you insist on uniting the Mongols?”
“What is your opinion?” Temujin replied.
“The clan chiefs all say our ancestors have lived this way for hundreds of years. Why does Temujin want to change our traditions? The heavens will not allow it!”
“Do you remember the story of our ancestor Lady Alan Qo’a? Her five sons could not live in peace, so she invited them to come and dine with her. She gave them each an arrow and asked them to break it. This they did with ease. Then she tied together another five arrows and asked them to break them. Each son tried, but none was able to do it. Do you remember what she said to them?”
“If each of you stands alone, you will be broken as easily as an arrow,” Jamuka said quietly. “But if united, no-one and nothing can break you.”
“And then what happened?”
“They joined together and conquered the steppe for future generations. They were the founders of our tribes.”
“Exactly that! We too are heroes fit to stand beside Lady Alan Qoa’s sons, so why fight among ourselves? Why not unite and destroy the Jin?”
“But the Jin command a powerful army, their lands are scattered with gold and they live among mountains of rice. How can the Mongols defeat them?”
“So you prefer to live under their yoke?” Temujin snorted.
“We are not oppressed by them. Their Emperor made you Queller of Northern Uprisings!”
“I trusted them at first, that is true. But then I came to understand their greed. Every year they demand more. First they were satisfied with sheep and cows, then they wanted horses and now they want our men. What do
we care for their war with the Song? Even if we help the Jin conquer the south, the land will belong to them alone. We lose soldiers, and for what? Are we going to feed our cattle on the sand on the other side of these mountains? If we fight, we fight the Jin!”
“But Ong Khan and Senggum don’t want to betray them.”
“Betray them? Ha! What about you?”
“Brother, I beg you, don’t let your anger cloud your thoughts. Let Tusakha go. I guarantee personally that Senggum will release you.”
“Senggum? I don’t trust him and now I don’t trust you.”
“Senggum said himself: if a son dies, a man may produce more sons. But there can only be one Temujin! If you don’t let Tusakha go, you will not live to see the sun rise tomorrow.”
Temujin knew the two men well; they would certainly have him killed. If Ong Khan had been leading the attack, he might have had a chance. He drew his sword again and flashed it above him. “Temujin never surrenders, Temujin dies only in battle!”
Jamuka rose to his feet. “You surrendered in the past, when you were weaker than you are now. You give the spoils of war to your soldiers, telling them it belongs to them, not to the whole tribe. In this, again the clan leaders say you do wrong. It’s against our traditions.”
“But it pleases my young fighters! The clan leaders claim they cannot keep it because they want it for themselves. Such traditions make the fighters angry. Who do we need more? Brave soldiers or greedy, stupid clan leaders?”
“Brother, you have always acted alone, as if you didn’t need the help or advice of the other clan leaders. You have also been sending messengers to persuade my soldiers to surrender and join you, promising them riches, that the livestock won’t be shared among all the people of the tribe. Did you think I was blind to what you have been doing?”
Now you know that, we can never be reconciled, Temujin thought to himself. He removed a small pouch from inside his shirt and threw it at Jamuka. “The gifts you gave me on the three separate occasions we swore our loyalty to each other. Have them back. That way, when you cut your blade here,” he said, drawing his finger across his neck, “you will be killing your enemy and not your brother.” He paused, sighed and continued. “I am a hero, you are a hero. The steppe may be vast, but it’s not big enough for two such as us.”
Jamuka picked up the bag, reached for his own and placed it in silence at Temujin’s feet. He then turned and walked back down the hill.
Temujin watched as he left. He stood for a long time without saying anything. He then took up Jamuka’s bag and tipped out the stones and arrowheads of their childhood. He still remembered the games they had played. He then scratched a hole in the dirt with a dagger and buried his brother’s gifts.
Guo Jing stood beside him. He understood the significance of the moment. Temujin was burying his most precious friendship.
The Great Khan stood up and looked out at the scene below. As far as the eye could see, Senggum and Jamuka’s men had lit fires. It was as if the stars in the sky were being reflected across the grasslands. He turned to Guo Jing. “Are you afraid?”
“I was thinking about my ma,” Guo Jing answered.
“You are a brave fighter. An excellent fighter.” He pointed to the fires. “And so are they! We Mongols have so many brave men, but all we seem to do is fight and kill each other. If we were united,” he said, looking out to the horizon, “we could make all the world’s grasslands ours!”
Temujin’s words stirred Guo Jing’s heart and he felt his admiration for him grow. “Great Khan, we will never be defeated by a coward like Senggum!”
“Exactly. Remember those words,” Temujin said with a smile. “If we survive this, you will forever be a son to me.” He leaned down and embraced the young man.
The sun was starting to climb in the sky and enemy horns began echoing around the plain.
“It doesn’t look like help will be coming,” Temujin said eventually. “I don’t expect to make it down from here alive.” Among the blasts of horns, sounds of weapons clanging and neighing horses drifted up on the wind. A dawn attack.
“Great Khan, my horse is swift. Why don’t you ride it back and get help? We will hold them off. We won’t surrender.”
Temujin smiled and stroked the young man’s neck. “If I, Temujin, were capable of abandoning my friends and generals in order to save myself, I would not be the Khan you see before you.”
“You are right, Great Khan. I was wrong.”
Temujin, his three sons, and his officers and soldiers all took their positions behind the mounds of earth they had piled up the previous day. Bows were aimed and ready.
Before long, three men broke free of the enemy ranks and approached under Senggum’s yellow banner, followed by four soldiers on foot, dressed in black. Senggum on the left, Jamuka on the right, and there in the middle, the Sixth Prince of the Jin, Wanyan Honglie. He wore a suit of armour made of gold and carried an equally resplendent shield on his arm. “Temujin, how dare you betray the Jin Empire?”
Temujin’s eldest son Jochi shot an arrow at the Prince but one of their retinue leapt up and caught it.
“Bring me Temujin!” Wanyan Honglie shouted. The black-clad foot soldiers began running up the hill at an unusual speed.
Guo Jing watched in amazement. They were using qinggong lightness kung fu; these were no ordinary fighters from the steppe. Jebe, Bogurchi and the others began firing arrows but the men skipped between them. Our men are brave and strong to be sure, Guo Jing said to himself, but they cannot compete with such accomplished masters of the martial arts. What are we going to do?
One of the men made it to the top. Ogedai tried to block him with his sabre, but just as the man in black raised his arm, Guo Jing struck out at his wrist. He stumbled back three steps and looked up at the young, sturdy man shielding Ogedai.
“Who are you?” he said in Chinese, unable to conceal his surprise at finding such an excellent swordsman among Temujin’s men. “Tell me your name.”
“My name is Guo Jing!”
“I’ve never heard of you. Surrender!”
Guo Jing glanced around him and saw the other three men in black had also reached the top and were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Tchila’un, Bogurchi and the others. Again, he thrust his sword at the first man, who blocked and returned with all his weight.
Just as Senggum’s soldiers were preparing to follow behind up the hill, Muqali placed the point of his blade on the back of Tusakha’s neck. “Come any closer and I’ll kill him!”
“Your Highness,” Senggum said, turning towards Wanyan Honglie, “instruct your men to retreat. We will find another way. My son must not be hurt.”
“Don’t worry, he will be fine,” Wanyan Honglie said with a smile. In fact, he was hoping Temujin would kill the young man and thereby cement a lasting hatred between the tribes, thus preventing them from ever uniting.
Senggum’s soldiers froze but the Prince’s men in black kept fighting.
Guo Jing made use of the techniques of the Yue Maiden Sword Jade Han had taught him. His opponent possessed considerable internal strength, but Guo Jing’s sword was swift and it swooped and flicked around the man’s body. He was visibly flustered.
Having seen off several of Temujin’s men, the man in black’s three companions ran over. One rushed forward with a spear. “Elder Brother, let me help!”
“Stay where you are and admire your brother’s technique instead!” the first man countered.
Guo Jing dropped his knee and raised his elbow in a Soaring Phoenix Rising Dragon, flicking his blade upwards as he did so. The man lurched back but the blade tore through his sleeve.
“Who is your Master?” the man shouted, breaking away from immediate danger. “What brings you here, to the northern steppe?”
Guo Jing maintained a defensive stance and answered in the dialect of the rivers and lakes as his Masters had taught him. “I am a disciple of the Seven Heroes of the South. And may I ask it is with whom I am
conversing?” he managed to stutter. He had been practising such polite phrases for some time now, but this was his first chance to make use of them and his nerves had garbled them.
The man with the sabre glanced at his martial brothers. “What would be the point of telling you who we are? Your ancestors will never know!” At this, he thrust his blade forward.
Guo Jing knew the extent of their power, having already engaged them in combat, but the sophistication of the moves Jade Han his Seventh Shifu had taught him was such that he was not merely on the defensive. The man with the sabre struck at Guo Jing’s lower body in a Search the Sea, Behead the Dragon. Thirty thrusts of their weapons passed in quick succession. He was growing nervous and his moves were becoming more erratic. He made a lunge at Guo Jing’s middle. Guo Jing twisted and flexed his blade in a Pick the Fruit, rolling on the ground before aiming at his arm.
The young man isn’t defending himself, the man in black thought. This is my chance! Before your sword can reach me, I will have cut you in two!
But Guo Jing knew what he was doing. Using his neigong inner strength, he dodged the blade with only the slightest movement of his wrist. He then thrust his sword towards the man’s heart.
The man screamed, dropped his sabre and knocked Guo Jing’s sword away with his hand. He was just in time; the tip only penetrated his flesh half an inch. More devastating was the cut to his hand, which was gushing blood. He jumped back.
As Guo Jing bent down to pick up the man’s weapon he heard a rush of air behind him. Without turning, Guo Jing kicked back, knocked the spear away and followed with the sabre. The second man in black shrank back and Guo Jing stepped forward, performing a Seize the Basket by the Handle. The moment his palm touched the spear, he could sense that this opponent was much slower than the first. He easily twisted and grabbed hold of it with his left hand, before sliding his blade down the shaft with his right. The man let go as the sabre swept to within inches of his fingers.
Guo Jing was buoyed. He cast the sabre down the slope below and took hold of the spear. The third man howled and came running at him with two short axes. Guo Jing had studied spear technique with his Sixth Shifu, and in that moment all the eccentric moves he had been taught flashed before him. He feigned a moment of weakness, to his opponent’s delight. The man cried out and lurched forward. But moments later, he was doubled over in pain as Guo Jing’s foot jabbed into his stomach. The force sent him hurtling back and the axes he was holding ricocheted towards his head.
