Conqueror (2011)

by Conn Iggulden

  ‘Then we will take them first. I am not worried about Mongke’s sons, my lord. They will be minor players and they have not yet made their names. Batu will control the supplies of food and equipment coming from the north. He is the one we must attack first, then Alghu.’

  Kublai thought for a moment.

  ‘Batu … owes me a great deal. Perhaps we can bring him to our side.’ Uriang-Khadai looked at him questioningly but he shook his head, unwilling to discuss it. ‘Even so, it means going around the homeland. Thousands of miles.’

  ‘Tsubodai managed three times the distance, my lord. Send a small force, two or three tumans to make the raid. General Bayar would bite your hand off if you offered him the chance to act for you. You and I will assault the Chagatai territory to the west.’

  ‘My brother Hulegu has a new khanate around Damascus. I will send someone to him there. Then Karakorum,’ Kublai said softly. ‘Each one in a season, orlok. I will not spend years on this. I want this finished quickly, so that I may return to the Sung.’

  ‘As you will, my lord khan,’ Uriang-Khadai said, bowing.

  Arik-Boke opened the door and leaned against the frame as he stared into the palace hall. The room was large enough to echo at the slightest noise, but the host of scribes seated at desks were almost silent. Only the scratch of quills and the gentle thump of ink-stamps could be heard. They sat with their heads bowed, writing and reading. Occasionally, one of them would rise from his seat with a scroll in hand and cross the room to check it in whispers with his superior.

  Batu peered through the open doorway. He was much older than Arik-Boke, though he too was a grandson of Genghis, descended through the line of Jochi, the first-born son to the great khan. His black hair was shot through with grey and his face was as weathered as any herdsman who spent his days in wind and rain. Only his paler skin showed his lands lay in the Russian north. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of the scribes and Arik-Boke chuckled.

  ‘You wanted to see the beating heart of the empire, Batu. This is it. I admit, it is not what I imagined when I became khan.’

  ‘I think I would go mad if I had to work in such a room,’ Batu replied seriously. He shrugged. ‘But it is necessary. I can only imagine the weight of information that must pass through Karakorum.’

  ‘It is the new world,’ Arik-Boke replied, closing the door softly behind them. ‘I think Genghis would not have understood it.’

  Batu grinned, looking suddenly boyish.

  ‘He would have hated it, I know that much.’

  ‘I am not one to dwell too long in the past, Batu. That is why I invited you to Karakorum. You are my cousin and men speak well of you. We should not be strangers.’

  ‘You honour me,’ Batu said lightly. ‘Though I am comfortable enough on my lands. My tribute is a burden, of course, but I have not failed to make the payments yet.’

  The hint was obvious enough and Arik-Boke nodded. ‘I will send a scribe to you to review the amounts. Perhaps some new arrangement should be worked out, for my khanate. All things can be remade, Batu. I have spent months simply learning the extent of my influence and power, but it is not all work. I see no reason why I should not reward those loyal to me.’

  ‘It is better to lead than to follow,’ Batu said. ‘It’s more tiring, but the rewards …’

  Arik-Boke smiled slyly. ‘Let me show you the rewards,’ he said, gesturing for Batu to follow. ‘My brother Hulegu described a seraglio in Baghdad. I have begun something similar here.’

  ‘A seraglio?’ Batu replied, pronouncing the strange word carefully.

  ‘A gathering of beautiful young women, dedicated to me. I have men in the slave markets with my funds, looking only for the youngest and best. Come, I will give you your choice, any of them that takes your eye. Or more than one, if you wish.’

  He led Batu down a series of corridors, until they came to a door and two heavyset guards. Both men stood rigidly in the presence of the khan and Arik-Boke swept past them, opening the door onto sounds of laughter and running water. Batu followed him in, his interest growing.

  A small courtyard was revealed beyond, set with lush plants and with a covered walkway running around it. Batu saw six or seven young women and he noted Arik-Boke’s wolfish smile broaden. Around the courtyard were simple chambers with beds and a few ornaments.

  ‘I keep them here until they are pregnant, then move them out to other rooms in the palace to have the children.’

  ‘They are … wives?’ Batu asked.

  Already the women were scrambling up at the khan’s presence, some of them kneeling on the polished stones. Arik-Boke laughed.

  ‘I have four wives, cousin. I do not need more of those.’

  He gestured to one young woman and she came forward with fear in her eyes. Arik-Boke raised her chin with his outstretched hand, turning her head to the right and left so that Batu could see her beauty. She stood very still as he dropped his hand past her neck and opened her robe, revealing her breasts. He lifted one with rough fingers and the girl tensed. When Arik-Boke spoke again, his voice had roughened.

  ‘What a delicious weight on my hand. No, Batu, these are for pleasure and children. I will have a thousand heirs. Why not? A khan should have a strong line. Choose any of them. They will give you a night to remember.’

  Batu had seen the girl’s wide pupils and understood the sweetish smell in the air was from opium. He showed Arik-Boke nothing as he nodded pleasantly.

  ‘My own wives are not so forgiving as yours, my lord khan. I think they would take a knife to my manhood if I took up your offer.’

  Arik-Boke snorted, waving the girl away.

  ‘What nonsense, cousin! Every man should be khan in his own home.’

  Batu smiled ruefully, struggling to find a way through that would not give offence. He did not want Arik-Boke’s women.

  ‘Every man has to sleep, my lord. I prefer to wake up with everything still attached.’

  He chuckled and Arik-Boke responded, some of the tension easing out of him. He continued to fondle the girl’s breasts, distracted.

  ‘My brother Hulegu described rooms dedicated to pleasures of the flesh,’ Arik-Boke said. ‘With costumes and strange chairs and tools; hundreds of beautiful women, all for the shah.’

  Batu grimaced, unseen. The girl stared with dull eyes as Arik-Boke pawed her. Her lips looked bruised and swollen, and in truth Batu found her intensely attractive. Yet, as Ogedai Khan had once told him, everything was about power. Batu did not want to put himself in Arik-Boke’s debt. He could sense the small man’s arousal coming off him in waves, almost like heat. Arik-Boke snuffled as he breathed through his mouth, the scarred face ugly in lust. Batu struggled with nausea as he kept his smile in place.

  ‘And Kublai, lord? I have not seen him in years. Is he returning to Karakorum?’

  Arik-Boke lost some of his flush at the mention of his brother. He shrugged deliberately.

  ‘At his best speed, cousin. I have ordered him home.’

  ‘I would like to see him again, my lord,’ Batu said innocently. ‘He and I were friends, once.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Be silent for the Son of Heaven, Emperor of the Sung, Lord Perpetual Nation,’ announced the imperial chancellor. His master raised a hand in greeting to Lords Hong and Sung Win as he came to the front ranks. Huaizong’s young face was flushed with excitement to be riding with such a host. He rode an elderly gelding as wide as a table. The amiable mount had been considered suitable for an eleven-year-old who could not be thrown. It had to be flogged mercilessly to do anything but walk, but it didn’t dampen the young emperor’s enthusiasm.

  ‘See how they run before us!’ he called to his lords. Huaizong had come from the safety of the centre to the front lines to confirm the news his imperial messengers had brought. In the far distance, he could see the Mongol tumans riding north to the Chin border. The sight of it made him want to laugh in joy. His first act as emperor had been to drive them for
th from his lands. Truly, heaven smiled on a reign that began in such a way.

  It did not matter that his lords had been forced to push hard just to bring the enemy in sight. Emperor Huaizong was by then aware that the Mongols had begun to withdraw before his vast army was in range.

  ‘They are going home,’ he said. None of the closest lords chose to answer what was not a clear question.

  Huaizong climbed up onto his saddle, so that he stood there with the careless balance of the very young. His horse ambled along beneath him, keeping pace with the multitude of soldiers and horsemen that stretched on either side and behind for as far as he could see. When he turned to look over his shoulder, Huaizong could only shake his head in wonder at the strength of the nation he had inherited. Soldiers marched in perfect lines, coloured banners fluttering. Those nearby averted their gaze from the emperor, while those further back marched stolidly, too far to see the small figure staring over their heads. Still further he looked, until the colours darkened and the marching lines resembled the distant waves of some dun sea, rippling across the land under the wide, blue sky. A host of peasants trudged behind on foot and in carts, carrying the food and equipment to support the soldiers. Huaizong did not heed those. His towns and cities teemed with them. When he noticed them at all, it was only as beasts of burden, to be used and discarded at will.

  Huaizong turned back and dropped into his saddle with a pleased grunt as Lord Sung Win brought his horse alongside.

  ‘They will not stand to face us?’ Huaizong asked, craning to see the Mongol tumans over the land ahead. His voice was sour.

  Lord Sung Win shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps they know the Son of Heaven rides with us today,’ he said, not above flattering the boy who held power over his house and line. ‘They have showed no sign of stopping for days now.’

  ‘I am only disappointed not to have seen a battle, Lord Sung Win,’ Huaizong said.

  Sung Win glanced sharply at him, worrying that the boy would order them across the border into Chin lands just to slake his immature desire to see blood. The older man had a fair idea of the costs involved. As with most men who had known battle in their youth, he was quite happy to see an enemy retreat and to leave them to it. He spoke before the boy could throw away the lives of thousands.

  ‘The reign of Emperor Huaizong has begun well,’ he said. ‘You have driven out the enemy and you will have time now to secure your position and complete your training.’

  It was perhaps the wrong thing to say to an eleven-year-old. Lord Sung Win frowned as the boy’s mouth turned into a sneer.

  ‘You think I should return to my dusty tutors? They are not here, Lord Sung Win. I am free of them! My army is marching. Shall I stop now? I could drive them from Chin lands. I could drive them right back to their home.’

  ‘The Son of Heaven knows our cities lie defenceless behind us,’ Lord Sung Win said, searching for the right words. ‘In normal times, we have strong garrisons, but they have either been lost to the enemy or they are here with us. I’m sure the Son of Heaven knows the tales of armies who drove too far into the lands of their enemies and were cut off from behind, then lost.’

  Emperor Huaizong looked at him in irritation, but lapsed into silence, biting his lip as he thought. Lord Sung Win prayed silently that the boy would not begin his reign with an unplanned campaign. Warily, he chose to speak again.

  ‘The Son of Heaven knows they are well supplied on their own land, while we must bring in food and equipment for hundreds of miles. Such a campaign is worthy for the second or third years of a reign, but not in the first, not without planning. The Son of Heaven knows this much better than his humble servants.’

  The boy made a sulky noise in his throat.

  ‘Very well, Lord Sung Win. Begin work on such a campaign. We will chase these men to the border, but you will lead the war next year. I am not a sick old man, Sung Win. I will take back the lands of my ancestors.’

  Sung Win bowed deeply as best he could in the saddle.

  ‘The Son of Heaven honours me in sharing his great wisdom,’ he said. A bead of sweat ran down his nose and he rubbed it discreetly. It was like the village boys who played with snakes, laughing wildly at the danger as a cobra lunged for them. A single mistake would mean death, but they still did it, gathering around in a circle whenever they found one. Sung Win felt like one of those boys as he stared at the ground passing underneath him, not daring to raise his eyes.

  Kublai’s neck hurt from staring over his shoulder as he rode, his frustration clear to see. He felt Uriang-Khadai’s gaze on him and his frown eased.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn the tumans around and charge them. I’ve never seen so many soldiers on the move. With Bayar gone ahead, we have what, a tenth of their numbers? A twentieth? I’ve learned enough to know when to attack and when to tuck in my tail and run.’

  He spoke lightly, but Uriang-Khadai could see the glances back were calculating, watching for flaws in the Sung lines. They were too far off to read accurately, but Kublai had spent a long time facing those very soldiers. He knew their strengths and weaknesses as well as his own.

  ‘Do you see how the centre is protected?’ Kublai said. ‘That formation is new. So many, orlok! It has to be the emperor, or at the least one of his relatives. Yet I must leave them behind to fight my own brother.’ He leaned over in the saddle and spat as if he wanted to rid himself of the taste of the words.

  ‘Still, we go on,’ he said. ‘Do you think they will stop at the border?’ His question was almost hopeful, but Uriang-Khadai answered quickly.

  ‘Unless they are led by a man like your grandfather, almost certainly. They have put everything they had into a short campaign in their own lands. I doubt they have food enough to feed so many for more than a few weeks.’

  ‘If they cross the border, I will be forced to take them on,’ Kublai said, watching the older man closely. He laughed as Uriang-Khadai winced. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’ll fight a running battle back to Xanadu and wear them down in my lands. I’ll scour the ground before me and keep them hungry and on the move. We could do it, orlok. What are tenfold odds to us?’

  ‘Destruction, I suspect, my lord khan,’ Uriang-Khadai said. He thought Kublai was only teasing him, but there was an underlying hunger in the younger man. He had given much of his prime to the task of defeating the Sung. It had hurt Kublai deeply to break off, and for all his banter, the orlok thought he might welcome the chance to end it against the emperor himself.

  As they crossed the border into Chin lands, marked by a series of small white temples, more and more of the men began looking back to see if the pursuing forces would follow. It was a bitter-sweet moment for Kublai when he saw the Sung vanguard halt. He had deliberately slowed his pace by then, so that they were barely a mile behind. He could see the front ranks standing in perfect stillness as they watched the Mongols depart and he imagined their jubilation. The border darkened with standing men and horses for miles to the east and west, a clear statement of strength and confidence. We are here, they were saying. We are not afraid to face you.

  ‘I will have to leave tumans here with such an army this close,’ Kublai said to Uriang-Khadai.

  ‘There is no point. No small part of our forces could resist such a host,’ Uriang-Khadai replied. ‘The Chin dominion has its own tumans. You are now their khan, my lord. They are yours to use. Yet if the Sung invade while we are riding against your brother, your cities could be sacked. You could lose Xanadu and Yenking.’

  ‘I am too old to do it all again! What do you suggest?’

  ‘Make Salsanan your orlok for Chin lands. Give him the task of defending the territory and your authority to raise and lead armies in your name. You have ten times the land of this Sung emperor. He will not find it easy, even if he is foolish enough to enter your domain.’

  Kublai nodded, making a quick decision.

  ‘Very well. I will also leave one tuman here, to patrol the bord
er and make it look as if we are ready for them.’

  ‘Or to carry the news if the attack begins,’ Uriang-Khadai said, refusing to give up his dour tone.

  Kublai sighed as he rode further and further away from the border. It was the end of his campaign against the Sung. He prayed to the sky father that he would see the southlands again before he died.

  By crossing, Kublai knew he had passed into territory that linked right back to Karakorum. He would not have been able to move his tumans without yam riders reporting it, galloping off on the first leg of a journey that would take them into Arik-Boke’s presence. There had been only one way around the problem and he had discussed it with General Bayar as well as Uriang-Khadai. Only Salsanan had spoken against the idea and Kublai had ignored him. Salsanan had not been there for the years of war among the Sung and he had not yet earned the respect of the others. Kublai was satisfied at the idea of giving the man orders to defend the Chin khanate.

  They found the first yam station on a crossroads some ten miles in from the border. It had been looted, the riders taken as warriors for Bayar, the stables empty. Kublai rode past the way station with a sense of misgiving. It would be the first of many as his general broke yam lines right across Chin territory. In that single act, Kublai knew he had declared war on his brother. It could not be taken back. He had set a path that would end with his death or in Karakorum. He clenched his jaw as he rode on and a sense of relief swept over him. Xanadu lay north, where he would leave the rest of his camp followers, as well as Chabi and his baby daughter. His son Zhenjin would stay with him, strong enough at last to endure the distances. Kublai nodded to himself. From Xanadu, his warriors would ride with just spare horses and provisions, enough to last a month. They would go out almost as raiders, moving as fast as any force Genghis had commanded. It felt good to take his own fate in his hands. The choice was made; the doubts were past.

  Arik-Boke drew his bow back to his lips, letting the feathers touch him before he loosed. The arrow soared where he had aimed, taking a fallow deer buck through the neck and sending it tumbling, its hooves kicking wildly. His bearers whooped at the shot, kicking their mounts forward and jumping down to cut the animal’s throat. One of them raised the buck by its horns, the long neck arching as he showed Arik-Boke the spread. It was a fine animal, but Arik-Boke was already moving on. The circle hunt arranged by Lord Alghu was at its zenith, with animals driven to the centre over dozens of miles. It had begun before dawn, as the heat of the region around Samarkand and Bukhara made the afternoon a time of quiet and rest. The sun was high overhead and Arik-Boke was sweating in streams. Everything from snorting hogs to a carpet of sprinting hares ran under the hooves of his mount, but the khan ignored them all when he heard the coughing roar of a leopard somewhere close. He spun in the saddle and cursed under his breath as he saw Alghu’s daughter already on the charge, her lance held low and loose in her hand. The girl Aigiarn had a name that meant beautiful moon, but in private, Arik-Boke thought of her as the hainag, a muscular yak with a short temper and thick, matted hair. She was a freak of a woman, so large and bulky across the shoulders that her breasts were mere flat sacks on muscles.