‘I have asked that Mongke join us … my lord.’ Guyuk bit his lip. He saw Baidur had noticed the hesitation, but they stood before Karakorum! It was almost painful to give the man his titles when Guyuk had none of his own. He sensed his mother shift her weight at his side and remembered her words. He was not yet khan. Until then, he would be humble.
Instead of answering, Baidur also reacted to the movement. He bowed deeply to Torogene.
‘My apologies, my lady. I did not expect you to be part of a group riding at night. You are all welcome in my home. The tea is cold, but I will have new leaves boiled.’
Guyuk seethed to himself. The greeting to his mother merely highlighted his own lack of status. He wondered if Baidur had ignored him deliberately, or whether it was genuine respect for the most senior woman in the nation. He followed his mother to Baidur’s ger and watched impatiently as she ducked her head to walk in. Baidur’s soldiers were staring at him. No, not at him, but at the sword on his hip. Guyuk bristled at their attempt to intimidate him. As if he would be foolish enough to draw a blade with his own mother in the ger.
To his astonishment, one of Baidur’s guards stepped close to him and bowed deeply. Guyuk’s men pressed around him at the threat, but he waved them back.
‘What is it?’ he asked, a trace of his irritation still showing.
‘My lord, I wondered if I could touch the sword you wear, just the hilt. It would be something to tell my children one day.’
Guyuk suddenly understood the fixed gaze of Baidur’s warriors and he smiled patronisingly. The wolf’s-head sword had been carried by his father Ogedai, and also by Genghis. He had seen other men gaze on it before with reverent awe. However, he did not want it to be pawed by common warriors. The very idea made him shudder.
‘I have much to discuss with your master …’ he began.
To his anger, the warrior reached out, gazing in a trance at the hilt as if it were one of the Christian relics. Guyuk took a step back. He imagined cutting the hand off to show the man his impertinence, but he was very aware of the staring faces around him, most of them loyal to Baidur rather than himself.
‘Another time,’ he snapped, ducking into Baidur’s ger before the warrior could press him further.
In the ger, Baidur and Torogene were seated close together. It had been some time since Guyuk had seen the inside of one of the felt and wicker homes. He felt cramped and saw with fresh senses how small it was, how it reeked of damp wool blankets and mutton. A battered old kettle hissed in the middle of the space, tended by a servant girl who fussed with cups and made them clink together in her nervousness. There was little space for the trappings of wealth and power in a ger. It was easier to live simply rather than be tripping over some expensive Chin pot at every turn. Guyuk struggled with himself for a moment. It felt like an intrusion to sit on Baidur’s other side, but if he took a place next to his mother, he would be forever subordinate in the conversation. With ill-will, he lowered himself onto the bed by her.
‘It changes nothing,’ Torogene was saying in a low voice. ‘The entire nation has come to Karakorum - every man and woman of power, except for one. We have enough for an oath-taking.’
‘If you go on, it is a risk,’ Baidur replied. ‘I know Batu well, Torogene. You dare not leave him outside the nation.’
His face was thoughtful, troubled. Guyuk watched the older man closely, but he saw no sign of delight or treachery.
They all heard the sound of approaching horses and Baidur stood. He glanced at the kettle coming to the boil.
‘Stay here. Serve them salt tea, Erden.’
Baidur left them alone, though Guyuk was not so naive as to believe they could not be overheard. He kept his silence, taking a bowl of tea from the girl. She presented it in the aspect of a slave, her head down between her outstretched arms. Guyuk almost reached for it before he realised it was held out for his mother. He clenched his jaw as he waited for his own. Status, once again. Well, that would all change soon enough. He would not let Batu ruin his chance to become khan, no matter what the rest of them planned.
Baidur entered with Mongke, and Guyuk rose to his feet to greet them. Torogene stayed where she was, sipping her tea. The ger was already crowded, but Mongke’s presence made it stifling. He had a huge breadth of shoulder and had somehow found the time to dress in his armour. Guyuk wondered if the man slept in it. Nothing would surprise him on such a night.
Mongke greeted Torogene first and then Guyuk, bowing deeply and properly, as an oath-sworn man to his master. The gesture would not be wasted on Baidur, and Guyuk felt his spirits lift in response. He opened his mouth to speak and to his irritation his mother began while he was still drawing breath.
‘Batu will not be coming to this gathering, Mongke,’ she said. ‘I have had word from him.’
‘What reason did he give?’ Baidur said across Mongke’s stunned silence.
‘Does it matter? He claims a hunting wound that means he cannot travel. It changes nothing.’
‘It changes everything,’ Mongke said. His voice was slow and deliberate. Guyuk found himself leaning forward to catch every word. ‘It means this gathering is at an end. What else can we do? Batu is not some minor family head. He is a powerful voice in the nation, though he does not use his influence. If Guyuk is made khan without him, it could lead to civil war in the future. None of us wants that. I will go back to my tumans, my families. I will tell them it will not be this year.’ Mongke turned to Guyuk. ‘My oath is yours, my lord, I have not forgotten. But you will need more time to bring Batu back to the fold before we go on.’
‘I do not need more time!’ Guyuk snapped. ‘You have all promised an oath to me. Well, I call it now. Honour your word and I will deal with Batu later. One man cannot be allowed to cause chaos in the nation, no matter his bloodline or his name.’
Seeing he was on the point of ordering them to obey him, Torogene spoke quickly before he could offend either of the powerful men in the ger.
‘We have all worked hard so that the oaths would be unchallenged, to make one man khan without dissent. That is no longer possible, but I have to agree with Guyuk. The nation is ready for a new khan. It has been almost five years since the death of my husband. How much new land has been taken in those years? None. The nation waits and all the time our enemies grow strong again. We have already lost too much, in influence and power. Let the oath-taking go ahead, with just one name missing from the roll. Once there is a khan, Batu can be summoned to give his oath alone, ordered by the one true authority of the nation.’
Mongke nodded slowly, but Baidur looked away, scratching a dark sweat stain at his armpit. No one else in the ger knew that he had received a private message on the yam. If he revealed that Batu had promised to support him as khan, it would mean a death sentence for his old friend, he was almost certain. Unless Baidur threw himself into the struggle. For just that night, Guyuk, Torogene and Mongke were all at his mercy, surrounded by his warriors. He could take it all, just as Batu clearly hoped he would.
Baidur clenched his fists for an instant, then let his hands fall loose. His father Chagatai would not have hesitated, he thought. The blood of Genghis ran in them all, but Baidur had seen too much of the pain and blood brought by ruthless ambition. He shook his head, coming to a decision.
‘Very well. Call the oath-taking at the new moon, four days from now. The nation must have a khan and I will honour my promises.’
The tension in the cramped ger was almost painful as Guyuk turned to Mongke. The big man nodded, bowing his head.
Guyuk could not resist smiling in relief. Apart from those in the ger and Batu himself, there was no one else who might challenge him. After so many years of waiting, he was in reach of his father’s titles at last. His mother’s voice barely registered with him, some weak promise that Batu could be brought to the city when the nation had spoken. He wondered if they truly believed he would welcome Batu as a friend after all this. Perhaps his mother expected him to a
ct the great lord, to show mercy to those who had tried and failed to ruin him.
The tension vanished in laughter and Baidur brought out a skin of airag and a set of cups. Mongke clapped him on the back in congratulation and Guyuk chuckled, giddy at the sudden change in his fortunes. Batu had almost destroyed years of work, but whatever he had intended, it had failed. Guyuk raised a toast with the others, enjoying the bite of the cold spirit in his throat. There would be a reckoning with Batu. That was one oath he could swear with certainty in the silence of his thoughts.
By the first light of dawn, the nation was ready. They had spent many weeks preparing for the oath-taking, from gathering vast quantities of food and drink to mending, patching and polishing every item of clothing and armour they possessed. The warriors were arrayed in perfect squares, standing in silence as the gates of Karakorum opened. There was no sign of the rush and panic from four days before. Guyuk rode out at the head of a column, sitting his mount with dignity. He wore a deel robe of grey and dark blue, deliberately choosing simplicity over anything gaudy or foreign.
There had been so few gatherings since the first one called by Genghis that there were hardly any traditions to follow. A great pavilion had been erected in front of the city, and as the sun cleared the eastern hills, Guyuk dismounted there and passed his reins to a servant. He walked to his place and stood in front of the silk tent as the first group approached him. Unless his bladder filled to bursting, he would not enter the pavilion that day, nor would he sit, no matter how hot the sun became. The nation had to see him become khan.
Baidur and Mongke were conspicuous in that first group, as well as Sorhatani, Kublai and her other sons. The first four hundred contained the heads of all the major families, for once deprived of their retainers, servants and slaves. Most of them were dressed in colourful silks, or the plainest armour, depending on their sense of occasion. Even the banners of rank were denied to them. They would approach Guyuk in simple humility, to bend the knee and give their oaths.
Even within that group there was a hierarchy. Torogene came first, then Sorhatani. The two women had ruled the nation alone, keeping it intact through the death of Ogedai Khan. Guyuk saw only satisfaction in his mother’s face as she knelt to him. He barely let her touch the ground before he raised her up and embraced her.
He was not so quick with Sorhatani. Though her oath sealed her loyalty, he had never been comfortable with the woman who controlled the homeland. In time, he thought he would grant her titles to Mongke, as his father should have done. She had survived, so she had luck, but women were too fickle, too likely to make some grievous error. Mongke would never jump without thinking, Guyuk was certain. He watched in pleasure as Mongke came next and repeated the oath he had given in a far land, the first stone falling that brought them all to that spot.
Kublai followed and Guyuk was struck by the keen intelligence in the younger man’s eyes as he knelt and spoke the words of gers, horses, salt and blood. He too would need some position of authority in time. Guyuk began to revel in such decisions, able at last to think as a khan, rather than just dream.
The day wore on, a parade of faces until he could hardly distinguish between them. Thousands came to the pavilion: heads of families, rulers of lands thousands of miles apart. Some of them already showed signs of intermarriage, so that the eldest children of Chulgetei had the features of Koryo. Guyuk formed an idea of ordering them to breed true, keeping the Mongol stock pure before it was swallowed in the flood of subject races. The mere thought of exercising such power was like airag in his blood, making his heart pound. After this day, his word would be law for a million people - and millions more under their rule. The nation had grown beyond anything Genghis might once have imagined.
As evening came, Guyuk toured the great camps. There was no single moment when he became khan to universal acclamation. Instead, he rode from place to place, allowing thousands of his people to kneel and chant their oaths. He had warriors ready to strike down anyone who refused, but nothing came of his worries as the light began to fade and torches were lit. He took food and returned to the palace for a time to change clothes and relieve his bowels and aching bladder. Before dawn, he was out again, travelling to the very least of those he would rule: the tanner families and a host of workers from many nations. They cried out in awe at their only chance to see the face of the khan, straining in the dawn light for a single glimpse they would remember for ever.
As the sun rose again, Guyuk felt suffused in its light, lifted by it and made mellow. He was khan and the nation was already settling down to the days of feasting that would follow. Even the thought of Batu in his Russian fiefdom had become a distant irritant. This was Guyuk’s day. The nation was his at last. He thought of the celebrations that would follow with growing excitement. The palace would be the centre of it: a new generation of youth, tall and beautiful, blowing away the ashes of the past.
CHAPTER FIVE
Torogene lowered herself onto the bench in the garden pavilion, feeling her husband’s spirit all around her. The summer had lasted a long time, so that the city sweltered. For months, the rare heat had built to storms, then been released into a day or two of sweet coolness before it dried out and the process began again. The air itself was heavy at such times, thick with the promise of rain. Dogs lay panting on the street corners and each dawn found a body or two to be cleared away, or a woman weeping. Torogene already missed the powers she had known. Before Guyuk was khan, she could have sent the Day Guards to beat a confession from a dozen witnesses, or to evict a family of thieves, dumping them all on the roads outside the city. Overnight, they were no longer hers to command and she could only petition her son alongside a thousand others.
As she sat among the drifts of leaves, Torogene searched for some feeling of peace, but could not find it, even in Sorhatani’s company.
‘You cannot tell me you are happy to be leaving the city,’ Sorhatani said.
Torogene patted the bench beside her, but her friend did not want to sit down.
‘No young khan should have his mother watching every move, every mistake. The old must apparently make way for the new.’ Torogene spoke the words reluctantly, echoing Guyuk’s pompous speech to her just that morning. ‘I have a fine palace, built for me by Ogedai. I will be comfortable in my retirement. And I am old. I can hardly believe how weary I feel on some days.’
‘He’s getting rid of you,’ Sorhatani said. She picked up a slender branch from the path. It must have fallen just that morning or the Chin gardeners would already have cleared it away. It flexed in her hands like a whip. ‘A son should honour what you achieved, keeping the nation together when it threatened to fly apart.’
‘Even so, he is khan. I worked years for it. Should I complain now that I have my desire? What sort of a fool would I be then?’
‘A mother,’ Sorhatani said. ‘We are all fools with our sons. We wipe them and suckle them and all we expect is for them to be grateful to the end of their days.’
She chuckled, her mood turning in an instant. Torogene smiled with her, though in truth she had been hurt by her son’s commands.
‘He has not threatened to send you away, Sorhatani,’ she said.
‘No, because he still lavishes his attention on Mongke. Orlok of the armies. It is more than my son even wanted. I swear we never planned for that, never.’
‘I know. Guyuk took my advice once, at least. Mongke has the bloodline from Genghis and the tumans will follow him. My son trusts him completely, Sorhatani. That is important.’
Sorhatani kept her silence. It was true Mongke had risen in Guyuk’s first season as khan, just as she had predicted. Kublai, though, would never lead armies under Guyuk. Something in the two men brought out the worst in each of them. Twice she had sent Kublai away on some errand before he ruined himself in Guyuk’s presence. They angered each other like two cats and neither she nor Kublai could explain it satisfactorily. There were times when she wished Guyuk would send her back to
the homeland, away from the heat and smells and crowds of the city, away from the politics that ruined every peaceful day. Even in that, she had her suspicions. She did not think Guyuk valued her as an adviser and one memory of his father still troubled her. Years before, Ogedai had asked her to marry his son. The idea could still make her shudder. Ogedai had been too good a man to force her, but Guyuk would have no qualms of that sort. As things stood, the original homeland of Genghis would pass to Mongke on her death, or perhaps one of her other sons if she wrote a will and it was honoured. She could only hope that Guyuk was content to rule the separate khanates. Yet he did not seem to have that sort of vision. In fact, he struck her as exactly the sort of greedy fool who would try to take it all for himself. It was heart-breaking to see such a handsome young man with so many shadows inside him. Power brought out the best in some men, but Guyuk showed no sign of such growth.
It was one more thing she could not discuss with Torogene. The woman still mourned a husband and had set her son to rule the nation. It was not Sorhatani’s place to lay his weaknesses in front of her. Just a week before, Guyuk had refused to see a delegation of princes from Koryo, preferring instead to go hunting with his companions. Sorhatani frowned unconsciously as she recalled the tense meeting with the Koryon men. She had tried to ease the insult of his absence with words and gifts, but she could see their anger in the silent looks between them. When Guyuk had returned days later, he had sent his chancellor, Yao Shu, to hear their requests. She could have done that herself if Guyuk allowed her any authority.
The memory brought angry colour to her cheeks. For once, she had ignored his blustering servants, forcing her way into his presence. She had hoped she could make him see that his life could not be one long feast or endless hunting with his friends. A khan had to rule day by day, to make the decisions they could not make without him.
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