Zhi Zhong watched sourly as the ministers settled themselves comfortably, sitting like peacocks around the center of the ceremony. The incense made him drowsy and he could not help but think of the Mongols on the plain outside the city. At first, he had seen the need for the rituals, a way of keeping order after he had killed the emperor. The city could have erupted without a strong hand to rule it, and it had been necessary to allow the nobles the comfort of their traditions. Now he was tired of it. The city was calm in its grief and the Mongols had begun building great trebuchets, raising walls of stone to protect the weapons.
With an exclamation of impatience, Zhi Zhong strode forward, interrupting the droning voice of a priest. The little boy froze as he looked up at the dark-armored figure. Zhi Zhong took the Imperial crown from where it lay on a gold silk cushion. It was surprisingly heavy, and for an instant, he was touched with awe at the thought of handling it. He had killed the man who wore it last.
He placed it firmly on the new emperor's head.
"Xuan, you are emperor, the Son of Heaven," he said. "May you rule wisely." He ignored the shock in the faces of the men around him. "I am your regent, your right hand. Until you are twenty years of age, you will obey me in everything, without question. Do you understand?"
The little boy's eyes filled with tears. He could hardly comprehend what was happening, but he stammered a response.
"I… I understand."
"Then it is done. Let the people rejoice. I am going to the wall."
Zhi Zhong left the stupefied ministers behind with their charge as he flung open the doors and strode out of the palace. It had been built high on the edge of Songhai lake, which fed the great canal, and the view at the top of the steps allowed him to look out on the city as the subjects waited for news. Every bell would sound and the peasants would be drunk for days. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he stood there, looking out at the dark walls. Beyond those, his enemies looked for a weakness. They would not get in.
Temuge sat staring dreamily at three men who had once been khans amongst the people. He could see their arrogance in every action, their disdain for him held barely in check. When would they understand they had no power in the new order his brother had created? There was only one gurkhan, one man superior to them all. His own brother sat before them, yet they dared to speak to Temuge as if they were his equal.
As the tribes erected their gers on the plain in front of Yenking, it had pleased Temuge to keep the men waiting on his pleasure. Genghis had shown his trust in him with the title of "Master of Trade," though Temuge himself had defined the role against surly opposition. He delighted in the power he exercised and still smiled when he thought of how long he had kept Kokchu waiting to see him the previous day. The shaman had been pale with fury by the time Temuge finally allowed him into the khan's ger. In allowing him to use it for his work, Genghis showed his approval, a gesture not wasted on the supplicants. There was no point appealing to Genghis if they disliked a ruling made in his name. Temuge had made sure they understood. If Kokchu wanted to gather men to explore an ancient temple a hundred miles away, the request had to be granted and the spoils looked over by Temuge himself.
Temuge laced his hands in front of him, barely listening to the men who had been khans. The father of the Woyela was supported by two of his sons, unable to stand on his own. It would have been a courtesy to offer him a chair, but Temuge was not one to let old wounds be forgotten. They stood and droned on about grazing and timber, while he looked into the distance.
"If you will not allow the herds to move to new grazing without one of your little tokens," the Woyela was saying, "we will be slaughtering healthy animals as they starve." He had increased in bulk since Genghis had cut the tendons in his legs. Temuge enjoyed seeing the man grow red in the face with anger and only glanced lazily at him without a reply. Not one of them could read or write, he reminded himself with satisfaction. The tokens had been a fine idea, carrying the symbol of a wolf burned into the squares of pine wood. He had men in the camp who would demand to see such a token if they saw warriors cutting trees, or bartering looted wealth, or any one of a thousand things. The system was not yet perfect, but Genghis had supported him in sending back the ones who complained, their faces pale with fear.
When the men had finished their tirade, Temuge spoke to them as gently as if they discussed the weather. He had found the soft tone served to heighten their anger and it amused him to prick them in that way.
"In all our history, we have never gathered so many in one place," he said, shaking his head in gentle reproof. "We must be organized if we are to thrive. If I let trees be cut as they are needed, there will be none left for next winter. Do you understand? As I have it now, we take timber only from woodland that is more than three days' ride away, dragging it back. It takes time and effort, but you will see the benefit next year."
As much as his soft speech galled them, the delicious part was that they could not fault his logic. They were men of the bow and sword and he had found he could think circles around them now that they were forced to listen.
"The grazing, though?" the crippled Woyela khan demanded. "We cannot move a goat without one of your maimed men demanding a token to show your approval. The tribes are growing restless under a controlling hand they have never known."
Temuge smiled at the furious man, seeing how his weight was becoming a strain on his sons at each shoulder. "Ah, but there are no tribes any longer, Woyela. Is that not a lesson you have learned? I would have thought you remembered it every day." He made a gesture and a cup of airag was placed in his hand by a Chin servant. Temuge had found his staff among those Genghis had recruited from the cities. Some of them had been servants to noble families and they knew how to treat a man of his position. He began each day with a hot bath in an iron tub built specially for the purpose. He was the only man in the camp who did, and for the first time in his life, he could smell his own people. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. This was how a man should live, he told himself, sipping as they waited.
"These are new days, gentlemen. We cannot move from here until the city falls, which means grazing must be carefully managed. If I do not exercise some control, the ground will be bare of grass come the summer and where will we be then? Will you have my brother separated from his herds by a thousand miles? I do not think you would." He shrugged. "We may be a little hungry by the end of summer. Perhaps some of the herds will have to be slaughtered, if the land cannot support so many. Have I not sent men to look for salt to cure the meat? The emperor will starve before we do."
The men stared at him in silent frustration. They could voice examples of how his control had spread through the vast encampment. He had an answer for each one. What they could not express was their irritation at being called to heel at every turn by some new rule from Temuge. Latrine pits must not be dug too close to running water. Ponies could be mated only according to a list of bloodlines that Temuge had made himself, without consulting anyone. A man with a fine mare and stallion could no longer put them together without begging for permission. It irked them all and it was true that discontent was spreading through the camp.
They did not dare complain openly, not while Genghis supported his brother. If he had listened to their complaints, he would have undermined Temuge and made a mockery of the new position. Temuge understood that, knowing his brother far better than they did. Once Genghis had given him the role, he would do nothing to interfere. Temuge reveled in the chance to show what an intelligent man could achieve when he was not restrained.
"If that is all, I have many others I must see this morning," Temuge said. "Perhaps now you understand why it is difficult to see me. I find there are always some who will talk the day away before they understand what we must do here; what we must become."
He had given them nothing and their enraged frustration was like cool wine to him. He could not resist driving in the barbs a little deeper.
"If there is anything else, I am
busy, but I will find time to listen, of course."
"You listen, but you do not hear," the crippled khan said wearily.
Temuge spread his hands in regret. "I find that not everyone who comes before me can fully understand the problems they raise. There are even times when trade goes on in the camp without the khan's tithe being removed and sent to me."
He stared at the old khan hanging in the arms of his sons as he spoke, and the man's feverish gaze faltered. How much did Temuge know? There were rumors that he paid spies to report every transaction to him, every bargain and exchange of wealth. No one knew the full extent of his influence.
Temuge sighed and shook his head as if disappointed. "I had hoped you would bring it up without my prompting, Woyela. Did you not sell a dozen mares to one of our Chin recruits?" He smiled encouragingly. "I have heard that the price was a fine one, though the mares were not the best quality. I have not yet received the tithe of two horses that you owe my brother, though I assume they will be here by sunset. Is that a reasonable thing to assume, do you think?"
The khan of the Woyela wondered who had betrayed him. After a time, he nodded and Temuge beamed.
"Excellent. I must thank you for taking time away from those who still look to you for authority. Remember that I am always here should anything else need my attention."
He did not stand as they turned to leave the khan's ger. One of those who had not spoken looked back in naked anger, and Temuge decided to have him watched. They feared him, both for his role as a shaman and as his brother's shadow. Kokchu had spoken the truth in that. Seeing fear in another man's eyes was perhaps the most wonderful feeling of all. It brought a sense of strength and lightness that came otherwise only from the black paste Kokchu supplied.
There were other men waiting to see him, some of whom he had summoned himself. He considered a dull afternoon spent in their company and, on a whim, decided against it. He turned his head to the servant.
"Prepare a cup of hot airag laced with a spoonful of my medicine," he said. The black paste would bring colorful visions and then he would sleep through the afternoon, letting them all wait. He stretched his back at the thought, pleased with the day's work.
GenghisLordsoftheBow
CHAPTER 26
I T TOOK TWO MONTHS to build ramparts of stone and wood to protect the great engines of war. The trebuchets Lian had designed had been constructed in the forests to the east. With their great beams still sticky with sap, they sat like brooding monsters a full mile away from the walls of the city. When the ramps were built, they would be rolled up into their protective shadow. It was slow and tiring work, but in some ways, the confidence of the Mongol host had grown in the time. No army sallied out to attack them; there was a freshwater lake to the north of the city, and the shores teemed with birds they could trap during the winter months. They were the lords of the Chin plain. Yet there was nothing to do but live, and they were used to fast conquest and victory, with new lands discovered each day. Coming to a sudden halt began to sour the camaraderie between the tribes. Already there had been knife fights stemming from ancient grudges. Two men and a woman had been found dead on the shore of the lake, their murderers unknown.
The army waited restlessly for the city to starve. Genghis had not known whether the stone ramps could protect the heavy catapults, but he needed something to keep his people from idleness. At least working them to exhaustion kept them fit and too tired to bicker. The scouts had found a hill of slate, less than a day's ride from Yenking. The warriors quarried the stone with the enthusiasm they brought to every task, breaking it with wedges and hammers, then heaving the blocks onto carts. Lian's expertise was vital there and he hardly left the quarry site in those weeks. He showed them how to bind the stones with a paste of burned limestone, and the ramps grew daily. Genghis had lost count of how many thousands of carts had trundled past his ger, though Temuge kept a careful record on their dwindling supply of looted parchment.
The counterweights Lian had designed were rope nets of larger stones, hanging from the levers of the machines. Two men had crushed their hands in the construction, suffering agonies as Kokchu cut the mangled limbs from them. The shaman had rubbed a thick, gritty paste into their gums to dull the pain, but they had still screamed. The work went on, watched always from the walls of Yenking. Genghis had been helpless to prevent the massive war bows being moved along the crest to face his own weapons. Sweating teams of Imperial guards built new cradles for them, working as many hours as the Mongol warriors below.
It took hundreds of strong men to roll the trebuchets up to the ramps in front of Yenking. With fresh snow falling on the plain, Genghis stood in frustration as the Chin engineers wound back seven great bows, sending iron-tipped poles crashing against the ramparts. The trebuchets answered with two boulders that cracked against the walls, sending splinters flying. The Chin weapons were untouched.
It took an age to reset Lian's great levers. In that time, the wall bows hammered the ramps over and over. Before the trebuchets were ready for a second shot at the city, cracks appeared in the ramps the tribes had built. After that, destruction came quickly. Stones exploded into the air with each strike, showering Lian and his men with splinters. Many of them fell clutching at their hands and faces, staggering back as the barrage continued. Lian himself was untouched and he stood watching in grim silence as his ramparts were torn apart and his machines exposed.
For a time, it seemed that the trebuchets themselves might survive, but then a direct hit cracked across the plain, followed almost instantly by three more. As the wall teams tired, the rate had slowed, but each blow carried terrific force. Warriors died trying to drag the machines out of range. One moment they were there, sweating and shouting. The next they were bloody smears on the wood and the air around them was filled with snow and dust.
Nothing could be salvaged. Genghis growled softly in his throat as he looked over the broken men and timbers. He was close enough to the city to hear cheering inside, and it galled him that Lian had been right. Without protection, they could not match the range of the wall weapons, and whatever they built would be hammered down. Genghis had discussed making high towers to wheel toward the city, perhaps even sheathed in iron, but the heavy bolts would punch straight through them, just as his own arrows pierced sheet armor. If his metalworkers made the towers strong enough to withstand the blows, they would be too heavy to move. It was maddening.
Genghis paced up and down as Tsubodai sent brave warriors in to collect the wounded and take them out of range. His men believed he could take Yenking as he had taken other cities. Seeing Lian's extraordinary constructions smashed to kindling would not help morale in the camp.
As Genghis watched the Young Wolves risk their lives, Kachiun approached and dismounted. His brother's expression was inscrutable, though Genghis thought he could detect the same deep irritation at the failure.
"Whoever built this city gave thought to its defense," Kachiun said. "We won't take it by force."
"Then they will starve," Genghis snapped. "I have raised the black tent before Yenking. There will be no mercy."
Kachiun nodded, watching his older brother closely. Genghis was never at his best when forced into inaction. Those were the times when the generals walked with care around him. Over the previous days, Kachiun had seen Genghis lose his dark moods as the ramps rose, wondrously strong. They had all been confident, but it was clear now that the Chin commander had only waited for them to drag the new weapons into range. Whoever he was, the man was patient, and patient enemies were the most dangerous.
Kachiun knew Genghis was capable of being stung into rash decisions. As things stood, he still listened to his generals, but as the winter wore on, Genghis would be tempted to try almost anything and the tribes could suffer as a result.
"What do you think of sending men to climb the walls at night?" Genghis asked, echoing Kachiun's thoughts. "Fifty or a hundred of them, to light fires in the city."
"The wal
ls can be climbed," Kachiun replied carefully. "But the Chin patrols at the top are as thick as flies. You said it would be a waste of men, before."
Genghis shrugged irritably. "We had catapults then. It might still be worth trying."
Genghis turned his pale eyes on his brother. Kachiun held his gaze, knowing his brother would want the truth.
"Lian said they had more than a million in the city," Kachiun said. "Whoever we sent would be hunted down like wild dogs and become sport for their soldiers." Genghis grunted in response, grim and despairing. Kachiun searched for a way to lighten his mood.
"Perhaps it is now time to send the generals out to raid, as you said you would. There will be no quick victory here and there are other cities in this land. Let your sons go with them, that they can learn our trade."
Kachiun saw doubt cross his brother's face and thought he understood. The generals were men Genghis trusted to act without his supervision. They were loyal by any test that mattered, but the war up to that point had been fought with Genghis watching. To send them out, perhaps for thousands of miles, was not an order Genghis would give lightly. He had agreed to it more than once, and yet somehow, the final command had not come.
"Is it betrayal you fear, brother?" Kachiun asked softly. "Where would it come? From Arslan and his son Jelme, who have been with us from the beginning? From Khasar, or Tsubodai, who worships you? From me?"
Genghis smiled tightly at the idea. He looked up at the walls of Yenking, still untouched before him. With a sigh, he realized he could not keep so many active men on that plain for as long as three years. They would be at each other's throats long before that, doing the work of the Chin emperor for him.
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