Bones Of the Hills c-3

by Conn Iggulden

  When he turned from the smoke, Jelaudin saw his brothers waited patiently with their heads bowed. He rested his hand on Tamar’s shoulder as he passed, striding up the steps to the prince’s palace. Armoured soldiers averted their eyes from him, then stared after the ragged figure who had come to see their master. No one raised a hand to stop the holy man who had brought an army to Peshawar. Jelaudin walked with firm steps until he reached the audience hall. Slaves drew open the doors and he did not bow as he saw the man who had called him to his home.

  The rajah of Peshawar was a slim warrior, wearing a silk tunic cut with a sash that fell loosely by his hip, barely covering the golden hilt of a sword. His features were soft and fleshy, despite his narrow waist, and there was little to remind Jelaudin of the boy he had met so long ago. As Jelaudin approached, the Indian prince sent away two advisers and stepped down from a throne to bow.

  Jelaudin raised him with one hand, though the gesture pleased him.

  ‘Are we not equals, Nawaz? You do me great honour with your hospitality. My men have not eaten so well for months.’

  The young rajah flushed with pleasure. His gaze wandered over Jelaudin’s dark brown feet, made hard with callus and dirt. Jelaudin grinned, wondering how he would have received such a ragged visitor when he was the son of Khwarezm.

  ‘I have heard wonderful things, Jelaudin,’ the younger man replied at last. ‘Men from my own guard have volunteered their service against this foreign khan.’

  ‘They are welcome, my friend, but I need supplies more than men. If you have horses and carts to offer me, I will fall on your neck with gratitude. If you have food for my army, I will even kiss those golden slippers you wear.’

  Prince Nawaz flushed even deeper at the wry tone, overcome.

  ‘You shall have all those things. I ask only that you let me ride with you when you go north.’

  Jelaudin weighed the young man, seeing in him a flicker of the same fire that sustained his army outside the palace. They burned, these young ones, whether they were rich or poor, blessed or cursed in their lives. They wanted to be led. That was the great secret he had discovered, that the right words would ignite them to a fervour that could never again be put out. Warmed by it, they would turn against their tribes, even their families, to follow him. He had witnessed fathers walking away from weeping wives and children without looking back as they came to him. If his father had ever discovered the right words, Jelaudin was sure he could have led his armies to the end of the world.

  Jelaudin closed his eyes briefly. He was exhausted from the long march over mountains and even the sight of the river Indus that fed a continent had not banished his weariness. At first, he had walked because he did not have a horse. After that, he had walked because to do so impressed his men. Yet the miles and hills had sapped him and it was tempting to ask for just one night in a cool bed before he sent his brothers scurrying around to feed the army and he had to walk those hills again. He resisted, knowing that it would lessen him in the prince’s eyes. The young man did not feel his equal, no matter that he dressed in a robe that a beggar might scorn. Instead, Nawaz saw his faith and was humbled in its presence.

  Jelaudin came to himself with a start, realising he had not spoken for a long time, instead swaying as he stood in silence.

  ‘Will your father not object, Nawaz?’ he said at last. ‘I have heard he does not follow the great faith.’ He watched as the prince’s face twisted in dislike.

  ‘He does not understand, with his thousand shrines and foolish temples. He has forbidden me to go with you, but he has no power over me! These lands are mine and all the wealth of them I give to you. My men are sworn to me alone and my father cannot take them from me. Let me call you master and walk beside you on the road.’

  Jelaudin smiled tiredly, feeling the younger man’s enthusiasm ease some of the ache in his bones.

  ‘Very well, Nawaz. You will lead your men to a holy war and throw back the infidel. You will stand on my right hand and we will triumph.’

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Genghis smiled to see his grandson Mongke paddling at the lake edge. His scouts had found the body of water some hundreds of miles to the north-east of Samarkand and he had brought the gers and families there, while his army administered the lands and cities of Khwarezm. The caravans moved again, from as far as Russia and Chin lands, but now they were met by Mongol officials trained by Temuge and backed by warriors. A part of every merchant’s cargo was removed, but in return they needed no guards of their own. The khan’s word protected the roads for a thousand miles and more in any direction from Samarkand.

  Mountains surrounded the lake and plain, far enough away that Genghis did not feel enclosed. He knew his warriors would be watching on every peak, but he could not see them. It was somehow comforting to know that the mountains would still be there when all those who lived were dust.

  Ogedai had taken well to his new position as heir. Genghis had sent him out with the tumans, learning every detail of the men he would command. That was expected, but Genghis had also placed Ogedai with Temuge, who taught him how to keep an army fed and clothed. Ogedai soaked up every skill the tribes could impart, as well as languages and even writing. The heir was never seen without a group of tutors at his back, but he seemed to thrive on it.

  Genghis stretched his back, feeling at peace. The sounds of war were distant in that place and he was enjoying the cries and laughter of the boys in the water, sunning themselves and learning to swim like fish. Some even dived below the surface, launching from rocks in great splashes. Their mothers called and peered anxiously into the depths, but they always surfaced, blowing and laughing at those who worried for them.

  Genghis felt a small hand tugging at his leggings and he reached down to swing Kublai into the air. The tiny little boy was only three years old, but from the age of just a few months, he had beamed whenever he saw his grandfather. Genghis had taken a liking to him.

  With a jerk, the khan put his grandson on his shoulders and walked to the water’s edge, wincing a little as Kublai gripped his hair too tightly.

  ‘I will not let you fall, little man,’ Genghis said. He saw Mongke catch sight of the rare treat and hold his arms out to be lifted up in turn. Genghis shook his head. ‘In a while. Until then, Kublai rides.’

  ‘Another story!’ Kublai called from above his head.

  Genghis thought for a time. Kublai’s mother had said his tales were too violent for a little boy, but Kublai seemed to enjoy them regardless. Genghis could see Sorhatani watching him from a little way off down the shore. At nineteen years old, she had grown into a woman of unusual beauty. Genghis sometimes wondered how little Tolui had snared her.

  ‘Would you like to hear about the khan of the Assassins?’

  ‘Yes, tell me!’ Kublai shouted joyfully.

  Genghis smiled, turning this way and that so that the boy giggled at the sudden movements.

  ‘He was a huge man,’ Genghis said, ‘with arms strong enough to bend an iron bar. His beard was like black wire and it stretched almost to his waist! It was two years ago that I came across him in his fortress. He leapt on my back as I passed underneath an arch and I could not break his grip. I felt his hands around my throat, squeezing and squeezing until I thought my eyes would pop out from my head!’

  He mimed a terrible grip, while Mongke came out from the water and watched with his eyes wide.

  ‘How did you get him off?’ Mongke asked.

  Genghis looked down and thought for a moment.

  ‘I could not, Mongke. I tried to shake him free, as I am doing with Kublai here, but he was too strong for me. He squeezed even harder and suddenly I saw my eyes rolling on the ground in front of me.’

  ‘How could you see them if they were on the ground?’ Kublai asked immediately.

  Genghis laughed and lifted him down.

  ‘You are a clever boy, Kublai, but you are right. I could not see them. In fact, I could see
me, with just holes where my eyes used to be and the Assassin still clinging to my back. Yet as my eyes rolled, I saw a great ruby flashing in his forehead. I did not know it was his weakness, but I was desperate. With my hands, I reached up and ripped it out. His strength went with it, for the gem was the source of all his power. I collected my eyes and sold the ruby to buy a white horse. I survived, but even today I have to be careful that my eyes do not come out again when I sneeze.’

  ‘That is not true,’ Mongke said scornfully.

  ‘It is,’ Kublai said, determined to defend his grandfather.

  The khan chuckled.

  ‘Who can say if I have remembered every detail correctly? He may not have had a beard.’

  Mongke snorted and struck his leg, which Genghis did not seem to notice. When Kublai and Mongke looked up, they saw their grandfather gazing into the distance, where two men were riding across the pebble beach towards him. A change came over the khan at the sight and both boys watched quizzically, not understanding why the light mood had come to an end.

  ‘Go to your mother now. I will tell you another story tonight, if I have time.’

  Genghis did not watch them as they pelted away, sending sand and pebbles skittering from their bare feet. Instead, he straightened fully to receive the scouts. He knew the men who rode to him. He had sent them away from the families more than a year before, with carefully worded orders. Their return meant they had either failed, or found his missing son. He could not tell from their faces as they reached him and dismounted, bowing deeply.

  ‘My lord khan,’ the first said.

  Genghis had no patience for polite greetings.

  ‘Did you find him?’ he snapped.

  The man nodded, swallowing nervousness.

  ‘In the far north, lord. We did not stop to check once we saw gers and ponies of the sort we know. It could not be anyone else.’

  ‘Gers? He took none with him,’ Genghis replied. ‘He has made a home then, so far away from the memory of me. Did his men see you?’

  Both scouts shook their heads with utter certainty, remaining silent. The khan would not want to know the details of how they had crept close to Jochi’s rough settlement, hiding themselves in snow though they almost froze to death.

  ‘Good,’ Genghis replied. ‘You have done well. Take six fresh horses from my herd as your reward: two mares, two stallions and two of the younger geldings. I will commend you to your general for this work.’

  The scouts bowed again, flushed with success as they mounted and rode to the maze of gers along the banks of the lake. Genghis was left alone for a moment, looking out over the waters. In all his life, not one of his generals had refused an order, or even considered betraying him. Not until Jochi had vanished, taking seven thousand valuable warriors with him. Genghis had sent scouts in all directions, searching lands new and old for his son. It had taken almost two years, but he had found him at last. Genghis shook his head as his thoughts grew dark. It would end in blood, after all he had done in raising another man’s son as his own. The entire nation spoke of the vanished army, though not in the presence of the khan. Jochi had given him no choice.

  He looked along the shore to where the gers clustered, covering miles of land around the lake. It was a good place, but the grazing was very poor and the goats and sheep that fed them had to be walked back to slaughter each day. It was time to move on, he thought, enjoying the idea. His people were not made to stay in one place, with just one view, not when the world stretched around them with an infinite array of strange things to see. Genghis arched his back, feeling it click unpleasantly He saw another rider setting out from the gers and sighed to himself. Though his eyes were not as sharp as they had once been, he knew his brother Kachiun from the way he rode.

  Genghis waited for his brother, enjoying the breeze coming off the water as the sun beat down. He did not turn as Kachiun called a greeting to Sorhatani and the boys.

  ‘You have heard then?’ Genghis said.

  Kachiun came to stand by him, looking out over the same pale waters.

  ‘The scouts? I sent them to find you, brother. They have found Jochi, but that is not why I am here.’

  Genghis did turn then, raising his eyebrows at his brother’s serious expression.

  ‘No? I thought you would be full of advice on how I should deal with my son the traitor.’

  Kachiun snorted.

  ‘Nothing I can say will change what you do, Genghis. You are khan and perhaps you should make an example of him to the rest; I don’t know. That is for you to decide. I have other news.’

  Genghis studied his brother, seeing how his once smooth face had taken on lines around the mouth and eyes. The age showed most when he smiled, which was less and less often since coming to Arab lands. Genghis owned no mirrors of the sort the Chin made, but he supposed his own face was just as weathered, or even more.

  ‘Tell me then, brother,’ he said.

  ‘You have heard of this army in the south? I have had men watching it for some time.’

  Genghis shrugged.

  ‘Tsubodai and Chagatai have both sent men to watch them. We know more about that gathering of farmers than they do themselves.’

  ‘They are not farmers, Genghis, or if they are, they have the armour and weapons of soldiers. The latest reports are of sixty thousand men, if my scouts have learned to count so high.’

  ‘I should fear only sixty? They grow, then. We have watched them for a year or more. They shout and chant and wave their swords. Are they coming for us at last?’

  Genghis felt a cold hand clutch at his belly for all his lightness of tone. He had heard of the gathering army and their revered leader almost a year after he had returned from the Assassins’ stronghold. His generals had prepared for attack, but the seasons had crept by and no army had marched against them. At times, he thought it was only the threat of them that kept him in lands where heat and flies bothered him every day.

  ‘My men captured three of their number,’ Kachiun answered, interrupting his thoughts. ‘They were wild, brother, almost frothing at the mouth when they realised who we were.’

  ‘You made them talk?’ Genghis said.

  ‘We could not; that was what surprised me. They merely spat threats at us and died badly. Only the last gave me anything and that was the name of the man who leads them.’

  ‘What do I care for names?’ Genghis asked incredulously.

  ‘You know this one: Jelaudin, whose father was the Shah of Khwarezm.’

  Genghis stood very still as he digested the information.

  ‘He has done well. His father would be proud of him, Kachiun. Sixty thousand men? At least we know for sure that he will come north, after my head. There will be no more talk of purges into India, not now we know it is Jelaudin.’

  ‘They cannot move a step without me knowing, brother.’

  ‘If we wait for them,’ Genghis said thoughtfully. ‘I am tempted to end their shouting with my tumans.’

  Kachiun winced, knowing that if he were to guide Genghis, it would have to be subtle.

  ‘The shah’s army was far larger, but we had no choice then. Your own tuman and mine are proven. Tsubodai’s Young Wolves and Jebe’s Bearskins bring twenty thousand more to the field. Chagatai, Khasar and Jelme another thirty. Seven tumans of veterans. Ogedai is barely blooded. I would not want to throw his men against such an enemy.’

  ‘I gave him good officers, Kachiun. They will not let me down.’

  Genghis considered the gers along the shore. The families bore children in the thousands each year, but many of them went into the tumans to replace the dead and injured. It had been difficult to create a new tuman for Ogedai, but his heir had to learn command and the other generals had gone begging for a year. He did not mention his plans to form a ninth tuman for Tolui to lead. His youngest son’s wife had approached him on the subject just a few months before. Genghis glanced over to where she now played with Kublai and Mongke, tossing one after the other int
o the water, to their delighted shrieks.

  ‘Find a good second for Ogedai, Kachiun. Someone who can stop him doing something stupid until he learns.’

  ‘Even then, eight tumans against almost as many?’ Kachiun replied. ‘We would lose many good men.’ He hesitated and Genghis turned to him.

  ‘You have not worried about numbers before, brother. Spit it out, whatever it is.’

  Kachiun took a deep breath.

  ‘You brought us here to avenge men killed by the shah. You have done that and repaid their deaths a thousand times over. Why should we stay and risk destruction? You do not want these lands and cities. How long is it now since you saw the mountains of home?’ He paused to gesture at the peaks around the lake. ‘This is not the same.’

  Genghis did not answer for a long time. When he spoke at last, he weighed each word carefully.

  ‘I brought the tribes together to take the Chin foot off our necks. Then I took it off and we humbled their emperor in his capital. That was my path, the one I made and chose and fought for. I wanted to send the Chin reeling still further, Kachiun, right to the sea in all directions. I would not even have come here if they had not provoked me. They have brought this on their own heads.’

  ‘We do not have to fight the entire world,’ Kachiun said quietly.

  ‘You are getting old, Kachiun, do you know that? You are thinking of the future, of your wives and children. Don’t splutter, brother, you know I am right. You have forgotten why we do this. I was the same for a time in Samarkand. I told Arslan these people live longer than us and have safer, softer lives. They do, just as camels and sheep live happily on the plains. We could choose that for a time, though wolves would still come for us in the end. We are herdsmen, Kachiun. We know how the world truly works and everything else is just an illusion.’