by Barry Sadler
Jemuga's men were beginning to push them back, gaining the advantage, and Casca thought the day might be lost. The fighting grew even fiercer, and Temujin's men began to tire while new fighters appeared at Jemuga's side.
To keep Temujin from throwing his life away, Casca had to grab him and push him into the rear of their diminishing line.
Jemuga was screaming, as had Temujin, for his men to reach the would-be king and kill him. Jemuga took the faces of three of their Borjigin warriors in less time than the telling takes, and another lost a leg above the knee to that great, swinging, bloody ax.
Casca began to think it was just about all over, except the screaming, when Jemuga's men began to move strangely. He saw a look of confusion on their faces. The pressure against them lessened, and he heard a new war cry over the camp. "Temujin!"
All of a sudden, Jemuga's men were going down. From out of the dark a mob had appeared, throwing themselves at Jemuga's warriors, beating at them with clubs and knives.
A bright shining face jumped up in front of Casca, and he almost cut it off when he recognized Temuge, with another taller man with a distinguished look to him – if such a thing was possible for a Mongol in the midst of battle.
"The village has risen against Jemuga, Temujin," he cried. "Jochi started organizing the minute I told him you were coming back."
The one called Jochi caught Casca's eye and smiled briefly, then turned back to the battle. They were reducing Jemuga's men by the handful. Over the heads of the fighters he could see Jemuga taking his toll of the attackers. Then he was gone from sight.
Temujin screamed for them to let him through to get to Jemuga himself. Casca thought it might be best if he let the others dispatch him – preferably from a distance and with arrows.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The last of Jemuga's men lay down their arms.
Temujin ran over the corpses and wounded, looking for Jemuga. He wasn't to be found. "Where are you?" he cried at the top of his lungs.
From the dark a voice answered, laughing. "Don't worry, Temujin. I am with you. I will always be with you – till this thing between us is settled. We shall meet again. Have patience, it may take some time to come back. But I shall. I promise you, I shall return."
Jemuga was gone. Temujin had lost him. Casca didn't doubt that the man meant every word. They had not seen the last of Jemuga.
From around the village, cries of welcome were spreading. The men under Chagar's command were riding through rows of tents, many wounded and holding bloody weapons. They'd had the job of taking out several large communal tents where many of Jemuga's warriors slept near the edge of the village.
When the battle started, Jemuga's men had enough discipline that they did not fall into the trap of standing and fighting against the attackers. They would have won in time. But they knew their duty, and most of them fought their way out to come to Jemuga's baragah and help him against Temujin and Casca's force. Whatever Jemuga was or was not, he was a hell of a fighter whose troops knew their jobs.
It all might have been lost had it not been for Jochi, who once he heard Temuge's report from Temujin had immediately begun to gather men to him, putting them into a group near the southern edge of the village. There were not many, no more than forty.
When Temuge had told him to get ready the moment he received the message that Temujin was returning, Jochi knew that there could be no delay. He and Temujin had played games too often. When Temujin said from this moment on, that was just what he meant. And he, like Temujin, knew that three days was too long a time to wait and keep the secret of his coming from Jemuga. Still, he was surprised at how soon his brother had made it there.
Once the fighting started, they had been on the side of the camp near where Chagar's unit had attacked the tent of Jemuga's guards. At the top of their voices they cried to the people not to fight against them, for Temujin had returned.
Most of the people had listened, though Jochi had to kill a few to get their attention. Once the Qiyats believed that these were Temujin's men, they began to attack the warriors of Jemuga.
It took a few minutes, but soon they were hunting them down all over the camp. Those who had stayed to tie down the forces of Chagar met the same fate as those at Jemuga's baragah. They died or were taken prisoners.
Casca was just relieved that it was over and had not turned out too badly – though there had been a price to pay. Of Temujin's hundred, less than forty were able to breathe air. The rest had gone down.
Torches were lit, and a great fire built in the center of the camp. Jochi and Temuge proclaimed that their brother had returned to claim his father's place as head of the tribes. He was the rightful khan.
His first orders to his people were to set out new guards and to strangle the captured guards of Jemuga, along with any who had actively aided him while he had been away. This came to over a hundred guards and three hundred of his own people.
That night, before the sun rose over the rim of the world, Temujin removed all opposition to him and all support in the village for Jemuga. His next command was for a force to be immediately mounted to get after Jemuga and keep him moving. Other riders were sent to the rest of the villages and camps to tell of his return and victory, and still others to ride to his other brothers and tell them to take command of their camp in his name and kill any who opposed them. His greatest concern was not to give Jemuga time to rest.
Temujin had to secure his position among the other villages before Jemuga could manage to regroup or have men sent from his father-in-law's camp. He would send Jemuga's wife back to her father. As she had no child, he was not concerned about her bearing an heir to claim the khanship of the Qiyat.
A feast was being prepared. Cattle, sheep, and goats were slaughtered. Wine and kumass were brought out. Casca thought the warriors Temujin had strangled had gotten off easy. If the Mongols had taken to drink before killing them, it would have been very messy. He left the circle of the campfire to walk among smiling teeth in the dark, Asiatic faces. He smiled back vacantly.
At the edge of the village he could hear the voices being raised in song as tambours and cymbals were brought out of the yurts and tents. Women danced with hair streaming. Around the campfires, songs were being made up on the instant of the return of Temujin, the promised one, and his ugly companion.
Casca smiled alone in the dark. Well, the boy had done it. Everything he'd said he would do had been done. He had returned. And now what? He didn't think that Temujin would be content with just his one small piece of the world. He wanted more, and Casca felt with a chill that he would get it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The years after Temujin threw Jemuga out of the camp were ones in which he spent his time consolidating his power among the tribes. In this, brothers were invaluable. Casca knew them all well. When they first had met, they were little more than what would be considered children in the west. Here in the Altai, at fourteen, they were warriors and men to be reckoned with. They learned fast from he and Temujin. But he was never able to get rid of that wild streak of cruelty that he finally guessed was just part of their nature. Killing was something they did because they liked it.
They all did their part to one common goal: the mastery of Temujin over all the tribes of the steppes and Altai. Jochi and Temuge would always be his favorites, but Belgutei and Elchitei were nearly as smart and tough. He wished he could have met the man who had sired them. He had brought into the world a family unlike any ever seen before.
With their help Temujin had added to his standards elements from a dozen tribes, who, dissatisfied with their masters, had come to him for protection.
He accepted all. Five separate bands of Merkits came to him, freely asking for him to accept them as subjects. These he put under the overall command of Subetei, who was the first of the Merkit Noyans to come to his side and offer his loyalty, thus adding three thousand more warriors to his force.
All came to his camp – even Hindi from
the Indus, Turkomen and Tatar, Jurchen and Khitan. Temujin gathered them to him, increasing his numbers every season.
Darbai grew fat and rich, and as Chagar, he never forgot that terrible night when Bolar called down death on his head. He was always there and ready when Temujin had need of him. Yet Temujin did not abuse him.
Always he was respectful and honored Darbai for his loyalty and friendship, and Darbai knew he rested under the umbrella of Temujin's protection. Of course, the hundred warriors he had loaned Temujin never returned. Some had died in battles, and others were men of import and Noyans of the tumens of Temujin. He never forgot one who was loyal, or failed to share all that he had with him. Only one of those who rode with him against Jemuga ever betrayed him. In exchange for gold he had tried to betray Temujin's plans to an enemy.
For that, his death was horrible. He was flayed alive. Day by day the skin first was stripped from his body, then the raw, red tissues rubbed with crystal salt. When all that was left was the skin of the eyelids, Temujin had them cut off.
Temujin then had him placed in the desert over an anthill. No one knew exactly when he went mad. They only heard the screaming for two days. No one else ever betrayed him from among the Borjigin.
He'd also in this time made friends with Ong Khan of the Kereit to his west and south. Ong Khan was the most powerful of the khans of the steppes, with over twenty thousand warriors to call upon. He and Temujin visited often, and Ong Khan admired the younger man for his abilities.
That is, until the seed of corruption was planted in his heart.
Jemuga had come again as he had promised. To Ong Khan's sons he whispered things about Temujin and his ambitions; how they should notice that every day he grew in strength and was never far from the lands of the Kereit. They would one day fall to him. The family Ong Khan would be no more than serfs to their Mongol master.
The Merkits had come to him from the north, and the Quonqurat were known to follow his wishes. And now he was making approaches by offering one of his sons in marriage to the family of the leader of the Naimans to their east. Soon the Kereit would be surrounded and cut off.
There was no stopping the ambition of Temujin. He would come, and when he did, if they did not do something first, they would be destroyed and their wives and children taken for his pleasure. All this and more Jemuga put into the ears of Jirchi and Barlas, the sons of Ong Khan. And as is the habit among many men of ambition and dreams, they saw and believed. Jealousy fed their beliefs.
And in turn they put this drop by drop into the soul of the father. And as it is with most who have power, they were jealous of it and afraid of it and even more afraid of losing it. For without it, who or what would they be?
In time Ong Khan also began to see a plan to Temujin's actions, to hear lies behind the pleasant words he spoke and see traps to blind him in the gifts sent from the young khan to his camp. All of these became evidence to prove to Ong Khan that Temujin was planning to move against him. And it would not be long in the coming.
He made Jemuga welcome in his camps, but not the ones visited by Temujin or his men. He kept Jemuga away in the mountains. There he had to be content to wait for the day when Ong Khan would have to put an end to the plots and treacheries of Temujin Khan.
He knew Temujin's history in warfare. The young man had been in almost constant action to one degree or another for the past fifteen years. And never had he failed. All that met him were defeated.
True, the battles were not usually of any great size but each time, instead of taking the customary tribute and slaughtering the defeated warriors, he gathered them to him. And in a few months all who were once his enemies were now his greatest supporters, each band, tribe, or race vying to prove they were the most worthy of his love and attention.
That was not to say that Temujin showed this unusual mercy to all. Ong Khan knew full well of the cruel side of the Mongol khan. Those he defeated in open battle had the best chance to survive through his mercy.
But those who resisted after he called for them to give up their struggle or insulted him were truly destroyed – men, women, and children. In some villages where he had lost men he valued in the fighting, even the dogs and rats were sentenced to death.
Ong Khan had seen the value of this incredible violence at other times. When Temujin Khan was in siege of a fortified town or village, all it took was for him to demand they open their gates to him or perish. Most did, without an arrow being shot.
Temujin gathered whole towns and tribes to him in this manner, and with each addition Ong Khan knew he was a greater threat to the Kereits.
Jemuga he did not trust. He was a brave and good fighter and shrewd. But too shrewd. His hatred for Temujin Khan made him unstable.
But in this Ong Khan felt he was right. One day he would either have to bow his neck to Temujin or destroy him. Therefore the sooner he destroyed him, the better – before he grew too strong.
Ong Khan was committed. All he needed now was the opportunity, the right time. To Temujin he showed honor and respect, as he always did. It wouldn't do to have Temujin suspect that the Kereit were going to move against him. Only he, his sons, and Jemuga knew that. And only he of all of them would know the time.
The days became weeks and the weeks months before the right time presented itself to Ong Khan. There would soon come the time when he would invite Temujin to come to Ulan Bator, as he did every year. There they would enjoy the games, trade, and the rink and perhaps buy a few comely slaves to ease the chill of the long winter that was soon to be upon them.
With the winter, he said, he would not have the opportunity to see much of his friend. Therefore he wished for them to have this time together before the great cold came.
As always, Temujin accepted. He liked Ong Khan. The old chieftain had never been anything but a man of honor to him. Showing him great courtesy and respect, Temujin had thought that he might even marry off one of his sons or daughters into Ong Khan's clan, thereby increasing the bond between them.
He knew nothing of Jemuga's return or who he was with. If he had, he might have thought differently about accepting Ong Khan's invitation to Ulan Bator.
As this would be the last of the days to trade and buy before the snows, Temujin awarded to his best warriors the right to accompany him to Ulan Bator. Some three thousand were permitted to come.
Most of these came from the tribe of the Merkits and the Borjigin warriors who were a gift from Ashif Khan, the father of Bortei, who wished now that he had seen and witnessed his son-in-law's rise to power, to strengthen their friendship. He knew that Temujin Khan liked nothing better than good fighting men.
In addition, it would ease the strain on his supplies during the winter when food and forage was in short supply. Temujin could feed them, though, in fact, he knew that he would never get them back. Once you went to Temujin Khan, you never left him, except if he was dead. That was of little worry. After all, he was the grandfather of Temujin's firstborn sons and the father of his premier wife. The power Temujin gathered would reflect well on wisdom in permitting Bortei to stay wed to him.
Temujin made camp on the dusty plains running on the banks of the Tula. His wagons and cattle he had driven before him. Three thousand men, and perhaps as many more women and children, eat a great deal. To bring his women and children to Ulan Bator was the strongest sign that he was coming in peace and suspected nothing.
This time he had brought with him from his brothers only Temuge. The others had to keep control of the rest of the tribes and make things ready for the winter move to summer pastures.
Ong Khan knew his time to strike was near. Sending for Jemuga, he gathered his sons to him, giving them their orders in secret. They met on horseback, away from the tents and yurts, out on the open plain where no one save the wind could hear. Jemuga, Jirchi, and Barlas were to gather their men from among the different clans. A hundred here, a thousand there. They were to say nothing of their mission.
As Temujin had no mor
e than three thousand coming with him, Ong Khan figured that eight thousand would be sufficient to deal with them, especially as he would have the advantage of surprise. Most of them would die before they knew what had hit them.
Jemuga was to stay with him to advise him on Temujin and his tactics. Jemuga knew more about him than anyone else in the world. It had become his driving force.
But Ong Khan always remembered that blind hate always covers the eyes of truth. Keeping that in mind, he wouldn't believe or trust everything Jemuga would tell him. He would balance out what was said against what he knew and would make his decisions, and not always the ones Jemuga would have preferred. However, Jemuga had no choice but to accept the old khan's conditions if he wanted to be in on the kill of Temujin.
Ong Khan gathered his warriors. From where they were hidden, it would be a two-hour ride to the encampment of Temujin. Once there, they would ride over them. His eight thousand, to Temujin's three, would be like a wave.
The plains area was perfect for the use of his horse archers. They would strike at first light, riding out of the sun to blind the defenders, and be among them like wolves on puppies before they could stumble from their tents and yurts. He would have them all, including the women and goods that were Temujin's. Once he finished him off, he would take over all of Temujin's tribes for his own and make himself the greatest power on the steppes in a hundred years.
Once Ong Khan committed to the battle, his nomad warrior heart soared with the thought of blood and booty. His past friendship meant nothing. He was what he was, Khan of the Kereit, and would bow to no man. Ong Khan kept his secret until the time came to gather his forces. Then the word leaked out. Men love to talk, and when they do, some who listen do not like what they hear.
This was the case of Kishlik and Bada, two Kereits who had brothers and family with Temujin. From them they found that Temujin had been fair and honest with them, more than they could say of the old bandit, Ong Khan. They rode with their tumen under the command of Barlas until they camped for the night. All knew that in the morning they would attack the sleeping camp of Temujin.
