Wolf of the Plains

‘How will I learn to use a sword, then?’ Temujin demanded.

He had forgotten his father’s reaction to that tone and barely avoided the hand that came to smack a little humility into him. Yesugei went on as if nothing had happened.

‘You will have to practise on your own, boy. Bekter had to, I know that. He said they didn’t let him touch a bow or one of their knives from the first day to the day he left. Cowards, all of them. Still, their women are very fine.’

‘Why do they treat with you, with daughters for your sons?’ Temujin asked, wary of another blow. Yesugei was already arranging his deel for sleep, lying back on the sheep nibbled grass.

‘No father wants unwed daughters cluttering the ger. What would they do with them, if I did not come with a son every now and then? It is not so uncommon, especially when the tribes meet. They can strengthen their blood with the seed of other tribes.’

‘Does it strengthen us?’ Temujin asked.

His father snorted without opening his eyes.

‘The Wolves are already strong.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Yesugei’s sharp eyes spotted the Olkhun’ut scouts at exactly the moment they saw him. The deep notes of their horns carried back to the tribes, rousing the warriors to defend their herds and women.

‘You will not speak unless they speak to you,’ Yesugei warned his son. ‘Show them the cold face, no matter what happens. Understand?’

Temujin did not respond, though he swallowed nervously. The days and nights with his father had been a strange time for him. In all his life, he could not remember having Yesugei’s attention for so long, without his brothers crashing across the khan’s field of vision and distracting him. At first, Temujin had thought it would be a misery to be stuck together for the journey. They were not friends, and could not be, but there were moments when he caught a glint of something in his father’s eyes. In anyone else, it might have been pride.

In the far distance, Temujin saw dust rise from the dry ground as young warriors leapt onto their ponies, calling for weapons. Yesugei’s mouth became a thin, hard line and he sat tall in his saddle, his back straight and unbending. Temujin copied him as best he could, watching the dust cloud grow as dozens of warriors came swarming out towards the lonely pair.

‘Do not turn, Temujin,’ Yesugei snapped. ‘They are boys playing games, and you will shame me if you give honour to them.’

‘I understand,’ Temujin replied. ‘But if you sit like a stone, they will know you are aware of them. Would it not be better to talk to me, to laugh?’

He felt Yesugei’s glare and knew a moment of fear. Those golden eyes had been the last sight of more than a few young tribesmen. Yesugei was preparing himself for enemies, his instincts taking over his muscles and reactions. As Temujin turned to return the stare, he saw his father summon an effort of will and visibly relax himself. The galloping Olkhun’ut did not seem so close and the day had grown a little brighter somehow.

‘I will look a fool if they sweep us off the ponies in pieces,’ Yesugei said, forcing a stiff grin that would not have been out of place on a corpse.

Temujin laughed at his effort in genuine amusement. ‘Are you in pain? Try throwing your head back as you do it.’

His father did as Temujin suggested and his effort reduced them both to helpless laughter by the time the Olkhun’ut riders arrived. Yesugei was red-faced and wiping tears from his eyes as the yelling warriors skidded to a halt, allowing their mounts to block the pair of strangers. The drifting cloud of dust arrived with them, passing through the group on the wind and making them all narrow their eyes.

The milling group of warriors fell silent as Temujin and Yesugei mastered themselves and appeared to notice the Olkhun’ut for the first time. Temujin kept his face as blank as possible, though he could barely hide his curiosity. Everything was subtly different from what he was used to. The bloodlines of their horses were superb and the warriors themselves wore light deels of grey with gold thread markings over trousers of dark brown. They were somehow cleaner and neater-looking than his own people and Temujin felt a vague resentment start in him. His gaze fell on one who must surely have been the leader. The other riders deferred to him as he approached, looking to him for orders.

The young warrior rode as well as Kachiun, Temujin saw, but he was almost a man grown, with only the lightest of tunics and bare brown arms. He had two bows strapped to his saddle, with a good throwing axe. Temujin could see no swords on any of the others, but they too carried the small axes and he wondered how they would be used against armed men. He suspected that a good sword would reduce their hatchets to kindling in just a stroke or two – unless they threw them.

His examination of the Olkhun’ut was being returned. One of the men nudged his pony close to Yesugei. A grimy hand stretched out to finger the cloth of his deel.

Temujin barely saw his father move, but the man’s palm was striped with red before he could lay a finger on Yesugei’s belongings. The Olkhun’ut rider yelped and pulled back, his pain turning to anger in an instant.

‘You take a great risk riding here without your bondsmen, khan of the Wolves,’ the young man in a tunic said suddenly. ‘Have you brought us another of your sons for the Olkhun’ut to teach him his manhood?’

Yesugei turned to Temujin and again there was that odd light in his eye.

‘This is my son, Temujin. Temujin, this is your cousin Koke. His father is the man I shot in the hip on the day I met your mother.’

‘And he still limps,’ Koke agreed, without smiling.

His pony seemed to move without a signal and he came in range to clap Yesugei on the shoulder. The older man allowed the action, though there was something about his stillness that suggested he may not have. The other warriors relaxed as Koke moved away. He had shown he was not afraid of the khan, and Yesugei had accepted that he did not rule where the Olkhun’ut pitched their gers.

‘You must be hungry. The hunters brought in fat spring marmots this morning – will you eat with us?’

‘We will,’ Yesugei answered for both of them.

From that moment they were protected by guest rights and Yesugei lost the stiffness that suggested he’d rather be holding a sword. His dagger had vanished back into his fur-lined robe. In comparison, Temujin’s stomach felt as if it had dropped out. He had not fully appreciated how lonely he would feel surrounded by strangers, and even before they reached the outer tents of the Olkhun’ut, he was watching his father closely, dreading the moment when he would ride away and leave his son behind.

* * *

The gers of the Olkhun’ut were a different shade of white-grey from those Temujin knew. The horses were held in great corrals outside the gathering of tents, too many for him to count. With cattle, goats and sheep busy munching grass on every nearby hill, he could see the Olkhun’ut were prosperous and, as Yesugei had said, strong in numbers. Temujin saw little boys the age of his brothers racing along the outskirts of the camp. Each held a small bow and seemed to be firing directly into the ground, yelling and cursing alternately. It was all strange, and he wished Kachiun and Khasar were there with him.

His cousin Koke jumped down from his pony, giving the reins to a tiny woman with a face as wrinkled as a leaf. Temujin and Yesugei dismounted at the same time, and their ponies were taken away to be watered and fed. The other riders scattered through the camp, returning to their own gers or gathering in groups to talk. Strangers in the tribe were not common and Temujin could feel hundreds of eyes on him as Koke led the two Wolves through the midst of his people, striding ahead.

Yesugei grunted in displeasure at being forced to walk behind the young man. The khan walked even slower in response, pausing to inspect the decorative knotwork on the ger of a lesser family. With a frown on his face, Koke was forced to wait for his guests, or arrive at his destination without them. Temujin might have applauded the subtle way his father had turned the little game of status to his advantage. Instead of hurrying along after the younger man, they had made the trip a tour of the Olkhun’ut gers. Yesugei even spoke to one or two of the people, but never with a question they might not have answered, only with a compliment or a simple remark. The Olkhun’ut stared after the pair of Wolves and Temujin sensed his father was enjoying the tensions as much as a battle.

By the time they stopped outside a ger with a bright blue door, Koke was irritated with them both, though he could not exactly have said why.

‘Is your father well?’ Yesugei said.

The young warrior was forced to pause as he ducked into the ger. ‘He is as strong as ever,’ Koke replied.

Yesugei nodded. ‘Tell him I am here,’ he said, looking blandly at his nephew by marriage.

Koke coloured slightly before disappearing into the darkness within. Though there were eyes and ears all around them, Temujin and Yesugei had been left alone.

‘Observe the courtesies when we go in,’ Yesugei murmured. ‘These are not the families you know. They will notice every fault and rejoice in it.’

‘I understand,’ Temujin replied, barely moving his lips. ‘How old is my cousin Koke?’

‘Thirteen or fourteen,’ Yesugei replied.

Temujin looked up with interest. ‘So he is alive only because you shot his father in the hip and not the heart?’

Yesugei shrugged. ‘I did not shoot for the hip. I shot to kill, but I had only an instant to loose the shaft before your mother’s other brother threw an axe at me.’

‘Is he here as well?’ Temujin asked, looking round.

Yesugei chuckled. ‘Not unless he managed to put his head back on.’

Temujin fell silent as he considered this. The Olkhun’ut had no reason to love his father and many to hate him, yet he sent his sons to them for wives. The certainties he had known among his own people were vanishing and he felt lost and fearful. Temujin drew on his determination with an effort, composing his features into the cold face. Bekter had withstood his year with the tribe, after all. They would not kill him and anything else was bearable, he was almost certain.

‘Why has he not come out?’ he murmured to his father.

Yesugei grunted, breaking off from staring at some young Olkhun’ut women milking goats.

‘He makes us wait because he thinks I will be insulted. He made me wait when I came with Bekter two years ago. No doubt he will make me wait when I come with Khasar. The man is an idiot, but all dogs bark at a wolf.’

‘Why do you visit him first, then?’ Temujin said, dropping his voice even lower.

‘The blood tie brings me safe amongst them. It galls them to welcome me, but they give your mother honour by doing it. I play my part, and my sons have wives.’

‘Will you see their khan?’ Temujin asked.

Yesugei shook his head. ‘If Sansar sees me, he will be forced to offer his tents and women for as long as I am here. He will have gone hunting, as I would if he came to the Wolves.’

‘You like him,’ Temujin said, watching his father’s face closely.

‘The man has honour enough not to pretend he is a friend when he is not. I respect him. If I ever decide to take his herds, I will let him keep a few sheep and a woman or two, perhaps even a bow and a good cloak against the cold.’

Yesugei smiled at the thought, gazing back at the girls tending their bleating flock. Temujin wondered if they knew the wolf was already amongst them.

The inside of the ger was gloomy and thick with the smell of mutton and sweat. As Temujin ducked low to pass under the lintel, it occurred to him for the first time just how vulnerable a man was as he went into another family’s home. Perhaps the small doors had another function apart from keeping out the winter.

The ger had carved wooden beds and chairs around the edges, with a small stove in the middle. Temujin felt vaguely disappointed at the ordinary look of the interior, though his sharp eyes noticed a beautiful bow on the far wall, double curved and layered in horn and sinew. He wondered if he would have the chance to practise his archery with the Olkhun’ut. If they forbade him weapons for the full turn of seasons, he might well lose the skills he had worked so hard to gain.

Koke stood with his head respectfully bowed, but another man rose as Yesugei came to greet him, standing a head shorter than the khan of the Wolves.

‘I have brought another son to you, Enq,’ Yesugei said formally. ‘The Olkhun’ut are friends to the Wolves and do us great honour with strong wives.’

Temujin watched his uncle in fascination. His mother’s brother. It was strange to think of her growing up around this very ger, riding a sheep, perhaps, as the babies sometimes did.

Enq was a thin spear of a man, his flesh tight on his bones, so that the lines of his shaven skull could be easily seen. Even in the dark ger, his skin shone with grease, with just one thick lock of grey hair hanging from his scalp between his eyes. The glance he gave Temujin was not welcoming, though he gripped Yesugei’s hand in greeting and his wife prepared salted tea to refresh them.

‘Is my sister well?’ Enq said as the silence swelled around them.

‘She has given me a daughter,’ Yesugei replied. ‘Perhaps you will send an Olkhun’ut son to me one day.’

Enq nodded, though the idea did not seem to please him.

‘Has the girl you found for my elder son come into her blood?’ Yesugei asked.

Enq grimaced over his tea. ‘Her mother says that she hasn’t,’ he replied. ‘She will come when she is ready.’ He seemed about to speak again and then shut his mouth tight, so that the wrinkles around his lips deepened.

Temujin perched himself on the edge of a bed, taking note of the fine quality of the blankets. Remembering what his father had said, he took the bowl of tea he was offered in his right hand, his left cupping his right elbow in the traditional style. No one could have faulted his manners in front of the Olkhun’ut.

They settled themselves and drank the liquid in silence. Temujin began to relax.

‘Why has your son not greeted me?’ Enq asked Yesugei slyly.

Temujin stiffened as his father frowned. He put aside the bowl and rose once more. Enq stood with him and Temujin was pleased to find he was the man’s equal in height.

‘I am honoured to meet you, uncle,’ he said. ‘I am Temujin, second son to the khan of Wolves. My mother sends you her greetings. Are you well?’

‘I am, boy,’ Enq replied. ‘Though I see you have yet to learn the courtesies of our people.’

Yesugei cleared his throat softly and Enq closed his mouth over whatever he had been going to add. Temujin did not miss the flash of irritation in the older man’s eyes. He had been plunged into an adult world of subtlety and games and once more he began to dread the moment when his father would leave him behind.

‘How is your hip?’ Yesugei murmured.

Enq’s thin mouth tightened as he forced a smile. ‘I never think of it,’ he replied.

Temujin noticed that he moved stiffly as he took his seat once more and felt a private pleasure. He did not have to like these strange people. He understood that this too was a test, like everything else Yesugei set his sons. He would endure.

‘Is there a wife for him, in the gers?’ Yesugei asked.

Enq grimaced, draining the dregs of his tea bowl and holding it out to be refilled.

‘There is one family who have not been able to find a match for their daughter. They will be pleased to have her eating someone else’s meat and milk.’

Yesugei nodded. ‘I will see her before I leave you. She must be strong and able to bear children for the Wolves. Who knows, one day she could be mother to the tribe.’

Enq nodded, sipping at the salty liquid as if in deep concentration. Temujin wanted nothing more than to be away from the man’s sour smell and his gloomy ger, but he forced himself to remain still and listen to every word. His future hung on the moment, after all.

‘I will bring her to you,’ Enq said, but Yesugei shook his head.

‘Good blood comes from a good line, Enq. I will see her parents before I leave.’

Reluctantly, Enq nodded. ‘Very well. I had to take a piss, anyway.’

Temujin rose, standing back as his uncle ducked through the door. He could hear the noisy spatter of liquid begin almost immediately. Yesugei chuckled deep in his throat, but it was not a friendly sound. In silent communication, he reached out and gripped Temujin around the back of the neck, then both of them stepped out into the bright sunshine.

The Olkhun’ut seemed to be burdened with an insatiable curiosity about their visitors. As Temujin’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw many dozens of them had gathered around Enq’s ger, though Yesugei hardly spared them a glance. Enq strode through the crowd, sending two yellow dogs skittering out of his way with a kick. Yesugei strolled after him, meeting his son’s eyes for a moment. Temujin returned the gaze coolly until Yesugei nodded, reassured in some way.

Enq’s stiffness was far more visible as they walked behind him, every step revealing his old injury. Sensing their scrutiny, his face became flushed as he led them through the clustered gers and out to the edges of the encampment. The chattering Olkhun’ut followed them, unashamed in their interest.

A thunder of hooves sounded behind their small party and Temujin was tempted to look back. He saw his father glance and knew that if there was a threat, the khan would have drawn his sword. Though his fingers twitched at the hilt, Yesugei only smiled. Temujin listened to the hoof beats getting closer and closer until the ground trembled under their feet.

At the last possible moment, Yesugei moved with a jerk, reaching up in a blur to snatch a rider. The horse galloped on wildly, bare of reins or saddle. Freed of its burden, it bucked twice and then settled, dropping its head to nibble at dry grass.

Temujin had spun round at his father’s movement, seeing the big man lowering a child to the ground as if the weight was nothing.

It might have been a girl, but it was not easy to be sure. The hair was cut short and the face was almost black with dirt. She struggled in Yesugei’s arms as he put her down, spitting and wailing. He laughed and turned to Enq with raised eyebrows.

‘The Olkhun’ut grow them wild, I see,’ Yesugei said.

Enq’s face was twisted with what may have been amusement. He watched as the grubby little girl ran away screeching. ‘Let us continue to her father,’ he said, flashing a glance at Temujin before he limped away.

Temujin stared after the running figure, wishing he had taken a better look.

‘Is she the one?’ he said aloud. No one answered him.

The horses of the Olkhun’ut were out on the ragged edge of the tribe, whinnying and tossing their heads in the excitement of spring. The last of the gers sat on a piece of dusty ground by the corrals, baked and bare of any ornament. Even the door was unpainted wood, suggesting the owners owned nothing more than their lives and their place in the tribe. Temujin sighed at the thought of spending his year with such a poor family. He had hoped at least to be given a bow for hunting. From the look of the ger, his wife’s family would be hard-pressed even to feed him.

Yesugei’s face was blank, and Temujin tried hard to copy it in front of Enq. He had already resolved not to like the thin uncle who had given them such a reluctant welcome. It was not difficult.

The father of the girl came out to meet them, smiling and bowing. His clothes were black with old grease and dirt, layer upon layer that Temujin suspected would remain on his skin regardless of season. He showed a toothless mouth when he smiled and Temujin watched as he scratched at a dark spot in his hair, flicking some nameless parasite away with his fingers. It was hard not to be revolted after the clean ger his mother had kept all his life. The smell of urine was a sharp tang in the air and Temujin could not even see a latrine pit nearby.

He took the man’s dark hand when it was offered and went inside to drink yet another bowl of the salty tea, moving to the left after his father and Enq. His spirits sank further at the broken wood beds and lack of paint. There was an old bow on the wall, but it was a poor thing and much mended. The old man woke his wife with a hard slap and set her to boiling a kettle on the stove. He was clearly nervous in the presence of strangers and muttered to himself constantly.

Enq could not hide his cheerful mood. He smiled around at the bare felt and wooden lattice, repaired in a hundred places.

‘We are honoured to be in your home, Shria,’ he said to the woman, who bowed her head briefly before pouring the salt tea into shallow bowls for them. Enq’s good humour was growing visibly as he addressed her husband. ‘Bring your daughter, Sholoi. The boy’s father has said he wants to see her.’

The wiry little man showed his toothless gums again and went out, pulling his beltless trousers up at every second step. Temujin heard a high voice yelling and the old man’s curt reply, but he pretended not to, covering his dismay with the bowl of tea and feeling his bladder grow full.

Sholoi brought the grubby girl back in, struggling all the way. Under Yesugei’s gaze, he struck her three times in quick succession, on the face and legs. Tears sprang into her eyes, though she fought them with the same determination as she had fought her father.

‘This is Borte,’ Enq said slyly. ‘She will make your son a good and loyal wife, I am certain.’

‘She looks a little old,’ Yesugei said doubtfully.

The girl writhed away from her father’s grip and went to sit on the other side of the ger, as far from them as she could possibly get.

Enq shrugged. ‘She is fourteen, but there has been no blood. Perhaps because she is thin. There have been other suitors, of course, but they want a placid girl instead of one with fire in her. She will make a fine mother for Wolves.’

The girl in question picked up a shoe and threw it at Enq. Temujin was close enough to snatch it out of the air and she stared malevolently at him.

Yesugei crossed the ger and something about him made her go still. He was large for his own people and larger still for the Olkhun’ut, who tended towards delicacy. He reached out and touched her gently under the chin, lifting her head.

‘My son will need a strong wife,’ he said, looking into her eyes. ‘I think she will be beautiful when she has grown.’

The little girl broke her unnatural stillness and tried to slap at his hand, though he was too fast for her. Yesugei smiled, nodding to himself.

‘I like her. I accept the betrothal.’

Enq hid his displeasure behind a weak smile.

‘I am pleased to have found a good match for your son,’ he said.

Yesugei stood and stretched his back, towering over them all.

‘I will return for him in a year, Enq. Teach him discipline, but remember that one day he will be a man and he may come back to pay his debts to the Olkhun’ut.’

The threat was not lost on Enq and Sholoi, and the former clenched his jaw rather than reply before he had mastered himself.

‘It is a hard life in the gers of the Olkhun’ut. We will give you back a warrior as well as a wife for him.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ Yesugei replied.

He bent almost double to pass out through the small door and, in sudden panic, Temujin realised his father was leaving. It seemed to take for ever for the older men to follow, but he forced himself to sit until only the wizened wife was left and he could leave. By the time he stood blinking against the light, his father’s pony had been brought. Yesugei mounted easily, looking down on them all. His steady gaze found Temujin at last, but he said nothing and, after a moment, he dug in his heels, trotting away.