When the Buddhist priests spun their prayer-wheels and chanted, he said to the others: “Observe how wonderful is God, that He understandeth the language of all men!”
But he was sternest with the priests, who he knew were the seeds of bitterness and dissension. “Teach your people that God is the father of all mankind,” he said, “and that he who sayeth God is only his father, and not the father of others, is a liar.”
He, himself, killed a priest who did not obey him.
“Keep your opinions to yourselves,” he said, “and speak aloud only one law: obedience to the khan, who is the audible voice of the gods.”
Being wise, he rewarded the priests richly, knowing that a fat priest is a good servant of masters. He treated all priests with absolute impartiality and friendliness, and settled all quarrels among them with fairness and good sense.
As a result, the priests obeyed him and loved him. The night before the warriors set forth to this supreme battle, the priests were very busy, invoking and praying and counselling their followers.
Jamuga, despite Houlun’s and Kurelen’s urgent advice, could not keep still. When he heard of the expedition, he went to Temujin, full of anger.
“This is a foreign and distant war, Temujin,” he cried, “and hath nothing to do with us, who live deep in the heart of the Gobi. What quarrel have we with the Tatars?”
“They killed my father,” said Temujin, with a faint sardonic smile.
Jamuga looked at him in scornful silence, and Temujin grinned.
“In wars, men grow strong. I need to strengthen my people,” he added.
“For what? Other wars?” asked Jamuga, angrily.
“Yes. Thou hast hit it. For other wars.”
Jamuga drew a deep breath. “I have no quarrel with wars of necessity, and survival. But neither necessity nor survival is threatened by the Tatars, whose near-by tribes live at peace with us. Thou hast two Tatar wives. Last week a Tatar khan was thy guest. Why send forth our people now to kill them, leagues away, at the desire of the Chinese and Toghrul Khan? Toghrul Khan will benefit. But what benefit wilt thou obtain? Are our people paid mercenaries?”
Temujin looked at him inscrutably.
“Every war is the story of one man’s revenge,” he said at last.
Jamuga was baffled. “But this revenge is not thine,” he stammered.
Temujin shrugged. His eyes glinted. “How dost thou know that?” he asked. “Go away, Jamuga, thou dost weary me. Thou dost look at today only. I look at tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”,
“Dost thou think I plan only for today? I see the future. Every war leadeth me closer to it.”
But Jamuga was excited. This expedition seemed cruel and foolish to him, and shameful in that Temujin was to lead his people into a war for the profit of others. Again, he underestimated his anda, because he always saw things straightly and simply.
“He who selleth his birthright once hath sold it for all time,” he said.
“That is not bad, if the price be high enough,” replied Temujin, smiling. Then he smiled no longer. “I do not know why I endure thy reproaches and thy gabbling, Jamuga Sechen. None other would dare speak so to me. I have commanded thee: Go; thou dost weary me.”
But still, Jamuga would not be silent. With tortured bitterness he said:
“If thy people were still free, instead of the slaves thou hast made them, thou wouldst not dare do this thing. A free man fighteth noble wars, he having chosen to defend what is precious to him. But in this war we defend nothing but the profits of others.”
Temujin did not reply. But he looked at Jamuga in a thoughtful and peculiar way, and his smile was cruel and dark.
Jamuga’s quarrel with Temujin was soon open camp story. That night Bortei, while she lay in Temujin’s arms, said:
“I have told thee, my lord, that this is a traitor. He is going among the people, urging rebellion.”
But Temujin laughed. “I do not believe that, Bortei. The people are laughing at him. And he is incapable of treachery.”
But Bortei was not to be set aside. “A dissenting opinion is always dangerous,” she said. “The people know that thine anda hath quarrelled with thee, and so they wonder if the quarrel were not justified. So long as this man liveth, there will be discussion as to his opinion.” She began to weep. “Thy love for him blindeth thee, and doth endanger all of us. In such a vast number of people there must be many who disagree with thee, but in silence. But this man doth make their dissent articulate.”
Temujin agreed with her in his mind. But he told her curtly to hold her tongue. He had his own plans. And he could not forget that Jamuga had saved his life twice, and had for him a deep and passionate love, and a loyalty that sprang from the soul and was unafraid.
But Bortei had one more thing to say: “There are traitors in every people, and whatever Jamuga’s loyalty to thee, he is simple, and can become the tool of ambitious and unscrupulous men.”
And again Temujin agreed with her in his mind, but he struck her across the mouth and dismissed her from his bed.
Chapter 4
The obstinate Jamuga would not let go without one final desperate effort: he consulted Kurelen without knowing his own reason, but feeling numb conviction that at least he would be understood. Kurelen listened thoughtfully. Then he said:
“Jamuga Sechen, hath it occurred to thee that perhaps Temujin is merely returning a favor? Toghrul Khan responded to his cry for help, generously and unstintingly. Temujin is his vassal, and now Toghrul Khan hath only requested that Temujin live up to his agreement with him, and render the same aid which had been given by his foster father.”
“That was different, Kurelen. Then, Temujin’s call for help was desperate, and necessary for the survival of a people. It was life or death. But in this war of Toghrul Khan’s and his Chinese masters against the Tatars, there is no such condition. Toghrul Khan will be generously rewarded for his aid in destroying a hungry and wandering people, whose only crime is that they have never had enough to eat. He will generously throw a bone to Temujin, whose warriors will have no reward but the remembered misery of a destructive war, and death, and the exhaustion and futility of a quarrel not their own.”
“And thou dost think this war will be such a misfortune for them?” Kurelen went out and stood upon the platform of the yurt and watched the clamorous gathering of the warriors. Jamuga stood beside him. They listened to the fierce shouts of exultation and excitement, the happy laughter, the gay quarrels and arguments. Horses stamped, reared and neighed and wheeled. The confusion was tremendous. The face of every horseman and warrior shone with delight under its layer of grease and dust. Many swung their lariats, practicing, catching the neck or body of a near-by friend, and dragging him from his horse, with shouts of merriment. Many, on foot, engaged in mock battle, and the clash of steel added to the din. The whole scene, colorful, active, seething, confused the eye.
“I do not seem to remember them so gay for a long time,” said Kurelen. “They are jubilant, drunk with joy, riotous in anticipation.”
“That is because they are intoxicated with dreams of glory and conquest, and have been seduced by the mysticism of the crafty priests.”
Kurelen continued to watch the warriors. “I wonder,” he said meditatively. “I have lived long enough to know that nothing is so simple as the intellectual man would have us believe. I believe that the love of war doth reside, not in any king’s or priest’s artful lies, but in the nature of man himself. The bloodless and the pale will deny this, but it is so.”
“Thou dost believe men would prefer blood and death and torture and hatred, to peace and security and friendship?” asked Jamuga, incredulously.
Kurelen nodded, slowly. “Yes, because peace and security are monotonous and maddening. They insist that strength devour itself behind safe walls, like a chained animal. But the steel and blood and death of war doth answer to the adventurous and virile spirit of man, and to his mystic urge for self-
sacrifice and self-abnegation. And so he doth feel a greater security than peace can bring, the security of being part of one enormous purpose and universal urge, and of having served something greater than himself.”
He smiled at Jamuga’s pale and repudiating face.
“The problem of the ages, if there is ever to be peace, is to make that peace, not drab and monotonous and stagnating, an affront to the rebellious and active spirit of man, but adventurous and exciting, calling forth all the self-sacrifice and virility of his nature. And Jamuga, this will not be found in books or in philosophies, which are dry dust settling on dead faces.”
He laughed. “Our learning doth belittle men. War doth exalt them. It is we who are dying, not they. We discourse, and they live!”
But Jamuga was silent. He was watching something else, with a sad intentness. Then he said suddenly:
“Observe the faces of the women. These are not gay nor jubilant, but only wretched and full of grief and fear.”
Kurelen looked at the women. And then he answered in a low voice: “It is part of our decadence, Jamuga Sechen, that we consider women.”
Jamuga, caution lost, went to Subodai, Chepe Noyon, and Belgutei. They were standing alone, with the simple Kasar, for a last consultation about formations. Belgutei greeted him with a smile, but said in an envious voice: “Fortunate art thou, Jamuga, to be going with our lord on this expedition. I have been commanded to remain here, and Kurelen is to be lord in Temujin’s place.”
This was news to Jamuga, who had thought that he was to remain behind. A dull flush rose to his colorless cheek, and he bit his lip. His anger made his last shred of caution disappear. Had he taken counsel with himself, he would have spoken to each young noyon separately, but now he burst out recklessly, stung:
“What think ye of this expedition? Are ye men, or unthinking beasts? Do ye not know that we fight a battle not ours, for the sake of an old man’s greed?”
They stared at him, astonished. Then, slowly, each man dropped his eyes after a glance at his neighbor. But no one answered Jamuga. Only Kasar, of them all, looked at Jamuga, and then with snapping eyes and a malicious half-smile.
“Subodai,” said Jamuga, desperately turning to the young paladin. “Hast thou nothing to say?”
Subodai looked up, and his face was cold and stern. He answered quietly: “My lord’s will is my will. I live only to obey him. I have told thee this before, Jamuga Sechen.”
Chepe Noyon smiled, and asked curiously and lightly: “What wouldst thou have us do? Defy our Khan, and refuse to go with him?”
Belgutei laughed. He liked Jamuga, and he saw that this might become serious. He glanced swiftly at Kasar, who he knew was madly jealous of Temujin’s anda. So he tried to pass the whole matter off as a huge joke.
“Jamuga doth not like us, apparently. He doth wish to destroy all of us and become our lord’s first adviser as he is his first friend.”
Subodai and Chepe Noyon understood him immediately. They looked at Kasar, then exchanged significant glances. “Ah,” said Chepe Noyon, laughing, “I know! Thou art just jealous of us, Jamuga. But we go, too, as well as thou.”
Jamuga was silent. He saw something subterranean was going on. He looked from one to the other, baffled. Then affronted, he turned and walked away, full of wretchedness.
Kasar said nothing to any one, which Chepe Noyon remarked was unusual. They watched him walk away, casually. Belgutei said, narrowing his eyes: “I distrust Kasar, for all his simplicity. Simple men are always dangerous, for they get a single idea and act on it stubbornly, like a mule. And we all know he is insanely jealous of Jamuga. Where do ye think he is going, now?”
Chepe Noyon shrugged. “I have made it a rule in my life to worry about nothing that doth not concern me.”
“Jamuga is a fool,” said Subodai. uneasily.
Kasar walked aimlessly. But once out of sight of the others, he began to hurry. He went to Temujin’s yurt, and found him embracing Bortei for the last time. Kasar’s original admiration for Bortei had become worship. She could do with him as she would. Now she smiled at him graciously. Kasar was pleased that she was there, for he knew how she detested Jamuga.
He spoke to his brother in an eager voice: “My lord, I have just come from consulting with Subodai and Chepe Noyon and Belgutei about our formations. And then, while we were talking, Jamuga Sechen, thine anda, came up to us, all in a sweat and a fever, and urged us to disobey thee, saying that this war is none of ours, and a foolish one, and only to be waged for the profit of thy noble foster father, Toghrul Khan.”
Temujin stared, incredulous. But Bortei gleefully clapped her hands.
“Have I not told thee, my lord, that this man is a traitor? But wouldst thou listen to me? Nay, thou didst merely send me from thy presence with a blow. Now thou dost hear it from thine own brother.” She looked at Kasar briefly, with sparkling eyes.
“I cannot believe this!” exclaimed Temujin. All his blood rushed to his head and his face, and his color turned purple. His expression was full of murderous rage. “But if it is so, what did the others say?”
“They laughed at him,” admitted Kasar.
Temujin clenched his teeth. “They saw he was a fool.”
“But fools are dangerous,” said Bortei.
“He hath gone too far,” muttered Temujin. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He breathed hoarsely and audibly.
Some one was plucking at the flap of the yurt, and Kurelen entered. He was smiling, but one quick glance around told him that something portentous was going on here. He had come to ask Temujin to allow Jamuga to remain at home, saying that he might need the young man. He had done this out of pity. But now what he had come to say died on his tongue, as he felt the black atmosphere in the yurt.
“What is wrong?” he asked quickly.
“I have just heard that Jamuga Sechen is a traitor, and is trying to stir up dissension among my noyon, saying this is no war of ours,” answered Temujin, his face swelling. “I shall kill him now, with mine own hand.”
Oh, the fool! thought Kurelen. He glanced piercingly, not at Temujin, but at Kasar, who was beginning to look sheepish. For Kasar, who was only simple and jealous, had only wanted to force Jamuga out of Temujin’s affections, but certainly had not desired his death. Alarm appeared in his doglike eyes.
Kurelen sat down and assumed a negligent attitude. He smiled. Now he would need all his skill to turn aside this wrath from Jamuga.
“Thou dost know how Jamuga doth talk, Temujin. And thou knowest he is no traitor. He hath only a loose tongue, and many foolish ideas.”
Temujin’s lips twitched, and his eyes became fiery.
“Well, then, in justice to him, I shall ask Subodai, Chepe Noyon, and Belgutei to come here, and they shall tell me, themselves.”
Kurelen sighed, as though exasperated at such childishness in a grave hour. “I can tell thee, myself, Temujin: Jamuga came to me. Thou dost know what a womanish conscience he hath. He asked me if I thought this war were righteous. Men like this prefer to fight in righteous wars. They like to believe they choose what they shall do. It doth give them a feeling of self-will and independence. So I told him that whatsoever thou doeth is always righteous.”
Temujin tried to keep his face black, but involuntarily he began to smile. Bortei was infuriated. She looked at Kurelen with vicious eyes.
“We all know, Kurelen, what affection thou hast for Jamuga Sechen,” she said, mockingly. “Then dost always defend him, even against our lord.”
Kurelen put his hand meditatively to his lips, and looked over it at Bortei. “Hast thou personal occasion to dislike Jamuga, Bortei?” he asked gently. “Hath he injured thee irrevocably? And if so. why not summon him here, and ask him what there hath been between ye both?”
Bortei paled. Her heart almost stopped. She regarded Kurelen with the intent and piercing gaze of a cornered animal. And then, with sickness, she realized that Kurelen, in some mysterious way, knew of what had transp
ired between herself and Jamuga. Her lips dried with terror.
“There hath been nothing between us,” she stammered, trembling.
Kurelen continued to regard her with merciless thoughtfulness.
“Bortei,” he said quietly, “thou art a wise woman. I have always admired thee, and thought of thee as a daughter, knowing thou art full of sense. If thou dost truly believe Jamuga is a traitor, then it must be because of some secret knowledge of thine, and I shall insist he be brought here and confronted by thee, and accused by thee.”
No one but Bortei heard the menace and threat in his affectionate voice.
“By all means,” said Temujin, impatiently, “summon him here. Bortei hath often warned me against him, and she shall accuse him, herself.”
Bortei was as white as the chalked walls of the yurt. Her eyes, enormous, glittered with terror. She swallowed, moistened her parched lips. She began to stammer, almost incoherently:
“Perhaps we have been too hasty. Perhaps he is not a traitor—”
Now Kasar, indignant, interfered: “But I heard him myself!”
Kurelen, satisfied with the effect of his words on Bortei, turned to his younger nephew. “Kasar, I have always admired thine intelligence. Thou art clever enough to know that Jamuga is not traitor. If thou dost insist he is, then I shall know mine opinion of thee is false.”
“But I heard him say this thing to the others,” said Kasar, coloring uneasily.
“But thou art discerning enough to know that Jamuga is only a fool,” urged Kurelen, as one clever and amused man to another.
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