Save the Last Bullet for God

by J. T. Alblood

  “Upon hearing of the death of her son, his mother cried and begged her king to respond. The king dismissed her request by saying, ‘It isn’t worth destroying our friendship with the neighboring kingdom for a crazy young man.’”

  With that my father grew silent and sipped his koumiss.

  Sobutay and I looked at each other. We didn’t understand that his story was over. We also realized we didn’t understand what he meant with the story, but we pretended to understand so as not to make the situation more difficult. When my father blacked out, we immediately ran away.

  …

  Things were different with my mother. When we got my mother alone in the tent of the Khan, we had the most enjoyable moments. My mother had us sit around her, gave us little gifts, and spoke sweetly to us. The story we made her tell most frequently was the one about how the female wolf had come to us and how my father had saved her when she was kidnapped just after their marriage.

  Being shy at first, she would soon get engrossed in the story and tell us about it at length. She also wouldn’t fail to tell us the story of how my father fell in love with her and chose her as his partner when she was a little girl. But we didn’t want to hear that story. We preferred to hear about the wolf, war, and revenge.

  My mother told us that when my great-great grandfather was the eldest son of the Khan, he began to live among the wolves. Much later, he was found and brought back, but he was never the same again. When I asked my father about it, he avoided the subject and said they were all made-up stories. I also learned not to ask him about my mother’s kidnapping and how my father had rescued her. It was much better to let the storm clouds gather above you than to invite them to smash you.

  The Tatars, whose hatred my grandfather had garnered when he kidnapped my grandmother, had waited for my father to get married to exact their revenge. At night, they attacked the caravan of the newly married couple, wounded my father, and took my mother prisoner. It led to a long costly war that ended with a massacre.

  My mother was a slave in the tribe of the Tatars for a long time. She had no one, and she was tortured even though she was pregnant. Only the wolf—whose sudden appearance was a mystery—was beside her. Although the Tatars tried to chase it away and kill it, they eventually let it stay out of fear and respect.

  When my father recovered, gathered his army and attacked the Tatars to get revenge, the wolf protected my mother during the battle and even ripped out the throats of a few Tatars. It never left my mother alone.

  After my father put everyone, even the sheep, to the sword, he took my mother and returned home. The wolf followed them back. My father, who disliked dogs, moved to kill the wolf, but my mother stayed his hand told him how it had helped her. When they settled at home, the wolf remained close by. Shortly after they returned, I was born, and all night long, the wolf howled on a faraway hill beneath the shadow of the moonlight.

  After my birth, the wolf stopped following and protecting my mother and instead began to follow me. It was always by my side, even when I was a baby, and sometimes it would even breastfeed me while I slept beside it.

  Even though I was born of his beloved wife, I was never seen as the real son of Ghengis Khan. None would say it to my face, but they would talk about it. I, however never talked about it. I was simply Cuci: a guest. I was respected and protected, but I would never be a crown prince.

  West

  Time passed rapidly on the steppe. Sobutay and I grew up and became young warriors. I got taller, my muscles grew stronger, and I consistently fought whoever stood in my way. Sobutay’s own success in battle and his courage allowed him to rise as well. As a commander of a division, he performed miracles and was respected by everyone. All the while, Selen remained in the background, and each time, upon returning home after long campaigns, we would find her a little more grown up, and more beautiful.

  The female wolf had grown old now. As best as it could, it tried to be with me, but, one day, it suddenly disappeared. I looked for it everywhere. I asked everyone, but it was nowhere to be found. I never would have guessed how painful it would be to lose something so important from my life. The wolf had always been with us and now it was gone. I had never felt such sadness.

  After months of war and a few short campaigns without the wolf, I was so excited and relieved when, in the darkness of night, the wolf slipped once again into my tent. I cried and hugged and kissed it many times until I realized that it had a lump of fur in its mouth. A little cub, bluish just her.

  When I woke up in the morning, a wolf cub snored at my feet. The female wolf was no longer there; it was cold where she had been lying. The cub grew up as if racing with time and sharing all its memories with me. It never left me. Not until the end of its life.

  The West of the East

  With the fall of Beijing, and after a long and tiring journey, we went back to the steppes where we could once again breathe. On the way back, our load was ten times larger, but we had only taken the spoils we found most valuable. We dragged back thousands of captives—most of whom fell like ninepins along the way—and carefully chosen craftsmen.

  The only spoil I took to my lands was the distress and sorrow of the death of the wolf and a new goal which I couldn’t describe. On the way, no one approached me. I didn’t talk to anyone except Sobutay. Upon returning, I ran to the tent of the shaman to see Selen. I barely recognized the beautiful girl I found. Remembering the one I had left and seeing her suddenly so changed upset me and reminded me that we were no longer children.

  We rode horses to a faraway point on the rocks where the tents of our people looked like small dots. Turning our backs to the village, we stared at the setting sun absently and remained quiet for a long time. Finally, she broke the silence. “I’m very sorry for the wolf. I loved it almost as much as you. When the messengers brought the news of victory, they also told me your story.”

  “Nevermind. Let bygones be bygones. Talking about it will not change anything,” I said, stopping her. I didn’t want to speak of the wolf anymore.

  I turned and looked at Selen, “You grew up a lot, and changed…and got more beautiful. However, your eyes still look the same,” I added, trying to change the subject.

  She lightly blushed and looked down, acting as though she wanted to say something.

  “It’s been a long time,” she said after a while. “Time stopped here without you, and it also brought boredom and dullness. You changed a lot, too. You have the look of a real warrior…all those wounds. But the light in your eyes has gone out.”

  “I feel empty, like it’s the end of everything. What is our aim in life?” I said, suddenly asking an unexpected question.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Bring yourself up. Raise your children. Survive as long as you can. And in the meantime, enjoy it as much as possible. If you are a prince, you can also add defeating your enemies and changing history.”

  I thought to myself for a moment before speaking again.

  “Have you ever felt like there was something missing, that there might be something else to be done? As if you were hungry but you didn’t know what to eat?” I asked.

  “Your father is about to conquer the world. All these lands will be yours. Hundreds of years from now, people will remember you and this time. Isn’t that enough?”

  “That is my people’s fate,” I replied, “their path. I am with them until the end, but I will go my own way later. Maybe my only wish is to not be what everyone else is.”

  “You’re tired from war and travel. I think you should get some rest. Then you can decide what to do. What do you think?”

  “Yes, maybe you’re right. I will go as soon as possible. I don’t know how, but my end is near, and I have a limited time to fulfill what I need to do. I just feel it.”

  “Where will you go?” Selen asked. “I can come with you…if you want. My father used to tell us that you weren’t one of us and the souls of our ancestors warned him about you. He told me many times to be c
areful and not to approach you, but, I insisted, and, with you being the son of Genghis Khan, he didn’t …”

  I put my hand on her hand, and I stared into her eyes. They seemed to be the only light in the sky. I slowly pulled her to me and kissed her lips gently.

  “You are the only one I am glad to know,” I said. “And you are also the last one I want to upset. If you feel the same for me, try to understand me. Just don’t stop me because, if I could, my only choice would be to be with you. The most painful thing is to now realize what I will miss, what could have happened with you…”

  We walked towards our horses. She stopped and untied the red silk handkerchief in her hair. Her hands, like her lips, trembled. She gave me the handkerchief, and I stood alone in the dark as she rode away.

  I never saw Selen again. Weeks passed by hopelessly. When I told my mother that I was leaving, she accepted it on one condition: that I leave quickly.

  Northwest

  Sobutay and I set off for the north with a small convoy. On the way, we talked a lot about the war and our childhood. He never asked me the reason why I was going to the forest, the lands where he had been born. Maybe he also remembered the stories my mother had told us, of how my great-great grandfather lived alone in a remote place and how it was repeated every few generations in the family.

  We stayed as guests of his family for a while, and then Sobutay went back, leaving me there. When we hugged each other, we said goodbye. Sobutay said he would see me when we set off for the campaign to the west.

  I was caught off guard by the endless forests with trees that covered the sky, the thick blankets of snow that lay everywhere, the high mountains, and the strange people. It was cold, bitter cold, with sharp wind, frozen water, and short days that surrendered themselves to night at the first opportunity.

  Slowly, I grew used to the climate and the place. First, I learned how to keep warm, and then I learned how to find food, set traps, and hunt. All of the life experiences I had gained until then seemed almost meaningless. It had been months since I had held my sword in my hand and I found out how difficult it was to shoot arrows in the cold.

  After many failures, I learned that in order to hunt, you had to approach the prey and attack from a distance. When I came across wolf packs, I felt that I was close to my wolf. Then, I reminded myself that it was dangerous to interfere with these animals, who systematically hunted and were brutally cruel. When spring came and conditions improved, I left the company of others, lived on the border and put all the advantages of a community aside. I began to live in solitude and learned my limits.

  When one stays alone, he learns how to not be his own enemy. When he realizes his mistakes, he doesn’t judge cruelly, nor does he deny himself understanding. Alone in the forest, I thought things over, discussed things with myself, and wandered around with my memories. My eyes danced in the flames as I thought of those distant from me. I knew I was weak, unprotected, and small in the silence of the forest, but I needed to be there to become aware of that, and, even if I struggled, I had to survive. To do so, I was directed to my basic instincts.

  I could only protect myself. There was nothing else, and if there was, it didn’t matter. The existence of others far away, how rich or civilized they were, how they spoke, and what they felt didn’t matter. Maybe all hell had broken loose, and I was the only human being alive in the world. As long as I didn’t see them and wasn’t in contact with them, it didn’t matter how many thinking beings existed in this giant universe.

  The West of the South

  I had lost track of time.

  I didn’t know until I was told by those who arrived to find me that it had been nearly four years since I had left. After saying good-bye to a few friends and a lot of memories, I set off for the south and to the campaign. As I approached the steppes and met those who I had forgotten but who still lived within me, I was still a warrior and a human being, but now I spoke less and lower than before. On the long road south, I talked with my comrades but they couldn’t prepare me for what I encountered.

  When I saw the army of hundreds of thousands of people, I became terrified. I delayed as much as I could to face those who knew me, and when I asked to delay for a few days, the soldiers who came with me showed understanding. Finally, the inevitable happened, and I was again among my family and fellow warriors. They accepted me without objection. They were in a welcoming mood and treated everything with enthusiasm due to the excitement of being at war after so many years of waiting.

  From the East to the West

  Months before, the Shah of the land of Harzem Muhammad plundered a caravan under our protection and killed the messengers we sent there to respond to the situation. Suddenly, the excuse we needed to begin our new campaign had been found.

  The Mongol empire, which now extended from China, Korea, and parts of Japan in the east, now longed to extend west. My father would then be the ruler of everything between two seas, and no one would stand against his giant army. It was just a matter of time. A storm was coming down the steppes. We would attack the biggest cities, bring death upon the oldest civilizations, suck the life from within and spit out the remains.

  Hearing of our approach, our prey were scared but had no idea the price they were about to pay, a price that went beyond everything they could conceive of in their minds and souls. Those who were most unaware of the scope of the loss and what it meant would be the first losers.

  When I came into the presence of my father, I could read it in his eyes that he had missed me. He hugged me tight and talked to me for a long time, and I listened to him. While he told me how much I had grown and how strong I had become. He also rapidly and eagerly told me about the war and the lands to be conquered.

  My sister, Alangoya, interrupted when she came running into the tent and hugged me tight. She had become a young woman. She chided me for not being at her wedding, and she dragged me out by the hand without giving me a chance to tell my father good-bye; she was eager to introduce me to her new husband. The tall young man was, to be honest, more handsome than me. When he tried to tell me his name, my sister gave the introduction for him. “This is Tokucar, my husband and the father of my baby,” she said, with her hand on her belly. “He is one of father’s favorite commanders.”

  As I tried to tell my sister and her husband how pleased I was to hear the news, my youngest brother, Tuluy, saved me from the situation.

  Seeing Tuluy was the best thing that had happened so far. He was a young warrior and no longer a child. He proudly told me what had happened while I was away: he had been given two divisions and had fought in many battles.

  Two nights later, the messengers called all the commanders, and we gathered in the big tent in the presence of my father. I finally saw Sobutay and all the childhood memories came rushing back. We greeted each other warmly and tried to talk without attracting much attention.

  My father laid the leather map on the ground and pointed out our location and our planned route. He asked questions when necessary but rarely answered the questions of others. As the night gave way to morning, we drank less koumiss and more tea and determined the distribution of tasks.

  Cebe and Sobutay would move quickly toward the east, to the Shah Muhammad to press him and force him to fight. They would pass over the Amuderya River with four divisions, no invading, no spoils, no war unless necessary. Tokucar would be a raider, heading toward the southwest, the land of Horasan. He would pass over the Amuderya River, and attack whoever got in his way, spreading terror, plunder, and fire, and intimidating everyone. Cagatay, Ogheday, and the King of Uighur would lay siege to the city of Otrar on the River Siderya and wait with their large force until they captured it.

  I wouldn’t join the siege of Utrar. Instead, I would cross over the Syr Darya River and head toward the city of Gurgenc along with four divisions and lay a siege there. With the remaining forces, my father and Tuluy would cross over the Syr Darya River from the south of Otrar and direct the forces to the r
egion of Transoxiana, which would become our headquarters.

  The city of Bukhara would be the first attacked. My father was not only a genius of war and command, he was also a master of predicting and shaping the future with necessary interventions. Other military leaders would need much more than a single night to prepare a plan like his, but Genghis Khan was unique.

  After the long and tiring meeting, Sobutay and I rode our horses to the meadow to talk at sunrise.

  “Everyone sends you greetings from the land of the forest,” I said. “Actually, it’s my hometown now as you aren’t from there anymore and I stayed for so long,” I said in jest.

  “It must be because a wolf breastfed you when you were a child,” Sobutay replied. “I don’t think you suffered the usual difficulties of being a stranger there. It’s even rumored that you survived a great deal of time in solitude.”

  “How have you spent your days?” I asked.

  “There hasn’t been a proper war for a long time. I was bored like everyone else. I even got married. I was going to invite you to the wedding, but it wasn’t possible.”

  “Who is the poor girl? Do I know her?”

  “Selen. We got married a few months after you left.”

  I didn’t know how or why, but suddenly something got stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow. I lost the ability to breathe. I tried to talk as if I was okay, but wasn’t aware of what I was saying.

  “Our Selen …the best choice ever…I wish you happiness. Wish I had been there …congratulations.”

  He knew as much as well as I that there were things better left unsaid.