Wolf of the Plains

It did not take long. The moon shadow had moved a hand’s breadth, lengthening the dark bar at the foot of the hill as Temujin heard the sounds of talking once more, followed by the girl’s low laugh. He wondered which of the young women had come out into the darkness, and found himself imagining the faces of those he had come to know during the felting. One or two were agile and brown from the sun. He had found them strangely unsettling when they looked at him, though he supposed it was only what all men felt for a pretty woman. It was a shame he couldn’t feel it for Borte, who seemed only irritated in his presence. If she had been long-limbed and supple, he might have found some small pleasure in his father’s choice.

Temujin heard footsteps and held his breath. Someone was coming along the path and he pressed himself against the rock, willing them not to sense him. He knew too late that he should have hidden himself in the long grass. If they came together, he would have to attack them both or let them pass. His lungs began to pound and he could feel his pulse like a great drum in his ears. The breath seemed to expand inside him as his body cried out for air and the unseen figure came closer.

Temujin watched in excruciating discomfort as the walker passed within a few feet of him. He was almost certain it could not be Koke. The steps were too light and he sensed that the shadow was not large enough to be his enemy. His heart hammered as the girl passed and he was able to release his breath slowly. For a moment, he felt dizzy with the exertion and then he turned to where he knew Koke would come, stepping out into the path to wait for him.

He heard more steps and let the older boy come close before he spoke, relishing the shock his voice would cause.

‘Koke!’ Temujin whispered.

The moving shadow jumped in terror.

‘Who is it?’ Koke hissed, his voice breaking in fear and guilt.

Temujin did not let him recover and swung the fist with the stone. It was a poor blow in the dark, but it made Koke stagger. Temujin felt an impact, perhaps an elbow into his stomach, and then he was punching in a wild fury, released at last. He could not see his enemy, but the blindness gave him power as his fists and feet connected again and again in a flurry until Koke fell and Temujin knelt on his chest.

He had lost the stone in the silent struggle and scrabbled for it while he held the dark figure down. Koke tried to call for help, but Temujin hit him twice in the face, then resumed his search for the stone. His fingers found it and curled around. He felt his anger surge as he lifted it, ready to smash the life out of his tormentor.

‘Temujin!’ a voice said out of the darkness.

Both boys froze, though Koke moaned at the name. Temujin reacted instinctively, rolling off his enemy and launching himself at the new threat. He thumped into a small body and sent it sprawling with a yelp he recognised. Behind him, he heard Koke come to his feet and sprint away, his steps rattling loose stones on the path.

Temujin held the arms of the new figure, feeling their wiry thinness. He cursed under his breath.

‘Borte?’ he whispered, knowing the answer. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I followed you,’ she said.

He thought he could see her eyes shining, catching some dim ray the mountain could not smother. She was panting with fear or exertion and he wondered how she had been able to remain on his trail without him seeing her.

‘You let him get away,’ Temujin said. For a moment, he continued to press her down, furious with what she had taken from him. When Koke told the rest of the Olkhun’ut what had happened, he would be beaten or even sent home in shame. His future had been changed with a single word. With a curse, he let her go and heard her sit up and rub her arms. He could feel her accusing gaze on him, and in response, he threw the stone as far as he could, listening as it clicked somewhere in the distance.

‘Why did you follow me?’ he said in a more normal voice. He wanted to hear her speak again. In the darkness, he had noticed her voice was warm and low, sweeter without the distracting scrawniness and glaring eyes.

‘I thought you were escaping,’ she replied.

She stood and he rose with her, unwilling to lose the closeness, though he could not have explained why.

‘I would have thought you’d be pleased to see me run,’ he said.

‘I … I don’t know. You haven’t said a kind word to me since you came to the families. Why should I want you to stay?’

Temujin blinked. In just a few heartbeats they had said more to each other than in the days before. He did not want it to end.

‘Why did you stop me? Koke will run back to Enq and your father. When they find we’re gone, they’ll spread out to find us. It will be hard when they do.’

‘He is a fool, that one. But killing him would have been an evil thing.’

In the darkness, he reached out blindly and found her arm. The touch comforted both of them and she spoke again to cover her confusion.

‘Your brother beat him almost to death, Temujin. He held him and kicked him until he cried like a child. He is afraid of you, so he hates you. It would be wrong to hurt him again. It would be like beating a dog after it has loosed its bladder. The spirit is already broken in him.’

Temujin took a slow breath, letting it shudder out of him.

‘I did not know,’ he said, though many things had fallen into place at her words, like bones clicking in his memory. Koke had been vicious, but when Temujin thought about it, the older boy had a look in his eyes that was always close to fear. For an instant, he did not care and wished he had brought the stone down, but then Borte reached up and placed her hand against his cheek.

‘You are … strange, Temujin,’ she said. Before he could respond, she stepped away from him into the darkness.

‘Wait!’ he called after her. ‘We may as well walk back together.’

‘They will beat us both,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I will run away instead. Perhaps I will not go back at all.’

He found he could not bear the thought of Sholoi hitting her and wondered what his father would say if he brought her back early to the gers of the Wolves.

‘Then come with me. We’ll take my horse and ride home.’

He listened for her answer but it did not come.

‘Borte?’ he called.

He broke into a run and passed back into the starlight with a pounding heart. He saw her darting figure already far ahead and increased his pace until he was flying across the grass. A memory came to him of being forced to run up and down hills with a mouthful of water, spitting it out at the end to show he had breathed through his nose in the proper way. He ran easily and without effort, his mind dwelling on the day ahead. He did not know what he could do, but he had found something valuable that night. Whatever happened, he knew he could not let her be hurt again. As he ran, he heard the lookouts sound their horns on the hills all around, calling an alarm to the warriors in the gers.

The encampment was in chaos as Temujin reached it. Dawn was coming, but torches had been lit, spreading a greasy yellow light that revealed running figures. On the outskirts, he was challenged twice by nervous men carrying drawn bows. The warriors were already mounted and milled around, raising dust and confusion. To Temujin’s eye, there seemed no focus to it, no centre of authority. If it had been the Wolves, he knew his father would be dominating the scene, sending the warriors out to protect the herds from raiders. He saw for the first time what Yesugei had seen. The Olkhun’ut had many fine bowmen and hunters, but they were not organised for war.

He saw Enq hobbling through the gers and Temujin took him by the arm. With an angry sound, Enq shook himself free, then started, reaching out to hold Temujin in turn.

‘He’s here!’ Enq shouted.

Temujin struck out from instinct, shoving his uncle onto his back to break his grip. He had a glimpse of warriors moving towards him, and before he could run, he was held in strong hands and practically carried across the bare ground. He fell limp then, as if he had fainted, hoping that they would relax their hold for a heartbeat and let him struggle free. It was a vain hope, but he could not understand what was happening and the men who held him were strangers. If he could reach a horse, he had a chance to get away from whatever punishment awaited him. They passed through a pool of torchlight and Temujin swallowed drily as he saw that his captors were bondsmen of the khan, grim and dark in boiled leather armour.

Their master, Sansar, was a man Temujin had seen only from a distance in his days amongst the families. Despite himself, he struggled and one of the bondsmen cuffed him, making lights flash in his vision. They threw him down without ceremony at the door of the khan’s ger. Before he could enter, one of them searched him with rough efficiency, then propelled him through the opening to land flat on a floor of polished yellow wood, glowing gold in the light of torches.

Outside, the whinnying of horses and shouts of the warriors continued, but Temujin rose to his knees into a scene of quiet tension. As well as the khan himself, there were three of his bondsmen standing guard with drawn swords. Temujin looked around at the faces of strangers, seeing anger and, to his surprise, more than a little fear. He might have stayed silent, but his gaze fell on a man he knew and he cried out in astonishment.

‘Basan! What has happened?’ he said, rising fully. The presence of his father’s bondsman sent a clutch of fear into his stomach.

No one responded and Basan looked away in shame. Temujin remembered himself and flushed. He bowed his head to the khan of the Olkhun’ut.

‘My lord khan,’ he said, formally.

Sansar was a slight figure, compared with the bulk of Eeluk or Yesugei. He stood with his arms folded behind his back, a sword on his hip. His expression was calm and Temujin sweated under the scrutiny. At last Sansar spoke, his voice clipped and hard.

‘Your father would be ashamed if he could see you with your mouth hanging open,’ he said. ‘Control yourself, child.’

Temujin did as he was told, mastering his breathing and straightening his back. He counted to a dozen in his head, then raised his eyes once again.

‘I am ready, my lord.’

Sansar nodded, his eyes weighing him.

‘Your father has been grievously wounded, child. He may die.’

Temujin paled slightly, but his face remained impassive. He sensed a malice in the khan of the Olkhun’ut and was suddenly determined he would show no more weakness in front of him. Sansar said nothing, perhaps hoping for some reaction. When it did not come, he spoke again.

‘The Olkhun’ut share your distress. I will scour the plains for the wanderers who dared to attack a khan. They will suffer greatly.’

The brisk tone gave the lie to the sentiment. Temujin allowed himself a brief nod, though his mind reeled and he wanted to scream questions at the old snake who could barely hide his pleasure at his distress.

Sansar seemed to find Temujin’s silence irritating. He glanced at Basan, who sat like a statue on his right.

‘It seems you will not complete your year with our people, child. This is a dangerous time, when threats are spoken that are better left unsaid. Still, it is right that you return to mourn your father.’

Temujin clenched his jaw. He could not keep silence any longer.

‘Is he dying, then?’ he asked.

Sansar hissed in a breath, but Temujin ignored him, turning to look at his father’s bondsman.

‘You will answer me when I ask, Basan!’ he said.

The bondsman met his gaze then and raised his head a fraction, the tension showing. In the ger of another khan, Temujin was risking both their lives over a breach of custom, even after such news. Basan’s eyes showed he knew the danger, but he too was a Wolf.

‘He was badly wounded,’ Basan answered, his voice steady. ‘As strong as he is, he made it back to the families alive, but … it has been three days. I do not know.’

‘It is almost dawn,’ Temujin replied. He fixed his gaze on the khan of the Olkhun’ut and bowed his head once again. ‘It is as you say, my lord. I must return to lead my people.’

Sansar grew very still at that, his eyes gleaming.

‘You go with my blessing, Temujin. You leave only allies here.’

‘I understand,’ Temujin replied. ‘I honour the Olkhun’ut. With your permission, I will withdraw and see to my horse. I have a long ride ahead of me.’

The khan stood and drew Temujin into a formal embrace, startling him.

‘May the spirits guide your steps,’ he said.

Temujin bowed a last time and ducked out into the darkness, Basan following.

When they had gone, the khan of the Olkhun’ut turned to his most trusted bondsmen, cracking the knuckles of one hand inside the other.

‘It should have been clean!’ he snapped. ‘Instead, the bones are flying and we don’t know where they will fall.’ He took a skin of airag from a peg and poured a thin line of the raw fluid into the back of his throat, wiping angrily at his mouth.

‘I should have known the Tartars could not even murder a man without causing chaos. I gave him to them. How could they have let him live? If he had simply disappeared, there would have been no hint of our involvement. If he lives, he will wonder how the Tartars knew to find him. There will be blood before winter. Tell me what I should do!’

The faces of the men with him were blank and worried as he looked around at them. Sansar sneered.

‘Get out and quiet the camp. There are no enemies here except the ones we have invited. Pray that the khan of Wolves is already dead.’

* * *

Temujin strode blindly through the gers, fighting for calm. What he had been told was impossible. His father was a warrior born and no two men amongst the Wolves could take him with a sword. He knew he should ask Basan for details, but he dreaded hearing them. As long as he did not speak, it might still be a lie or a mistake. He thought of his mother and his brothers and then suddenly came to a halt, making Basan stumble. He was not ready to challenge Bekter, if the news was true.

‘Where is your horse?’ he asked his father’s man.

‘Tethered on the north side of the camp,’ Basan replied. ‘I am sorry to bring such news …’

‘Come with me first. I have something to do before I leave here. Follow my orders.’ He did not look to see how Basan responded and perhaps that was why the man nodded and obeyed the young son of Yesugei.

Temujin strode through the Olkhun’ut as they scurried and recovered from the excitement. The alarms had sounded on Basan’s approach, but they had reacted in panic. Temujin sneered to himself, wondering if he would one day lead a war party to these same gers. Dawn had come at last, and as he reached the outskirts, he saw the gnarled figure of Sholoi standing at his door with a wood axe in his hands. Temujin did not hesitate, walking up to within reach of the weapon.

‘Is Borte here?’ he said.

Sholoi narrowed his eyes at the change in manner in the boy, no doubt because of the warrior who stood so grimly at his side. Sholoi raised his head stubbornly.

‘Not yet, boy. I thought she might be with you. Your brother tried the same with the girl they’d given him.’

Temujin hesitated, losing his momentum.

‘What?’

‘He took his girl early, like a couple of goats rutting. Didn’t he say? If you’ve done the same, I’ll cut your hands off, boy, and don’t think I’m worried by your daddy’s man, either. I’ve killed better with my hands alone. An axe will do you both.’

Temujin heard the slide of steel as Basan drew his sword. Before a blow could be struck, Temujin laid a hand on the warrior’s arm, stopping him with a touch.

‘I have not harmed her. She stopped me fighting Koke. That is all.’

Sholoi frowned.

‘I told her not to leave the tent, boy. That’s what matters.’

Temujin stepped closer to the old man.

‘I’ve learned more tonight than I wanted to know. Whatever the truth of it, I am not my brother. I will return for your daughter when the moon’s blood is on her. I will take her for my wife. Until then, you will not lay a hand on her again. You will make an enemy of me if she takes a single bruise from you, old man. You do not want me as an enemy. If you give me cause, the Olkhun’ut will suffer.’

Sholoi listened with a sour expression on his face, his mouth working. Temujin waited patiently for him to think it through.

‘She needs a strong man, boy, to control her.’

‘Remember that,’ Temujin said.

Sholoi nodded, watching as the two Wolves walked away, the sight of the drawn sword scattering Olkhun’ut children before them. Sholoi hefted the axe onto his shoulder and hitched up his leggings, sniffing.

‘I know you’re here, girl, creeping around,’ he said to the empty air. There was no response, but the silence became strained and he grinned to himself, revealing black gums. ‘I think you’ve found yourself a good one, if he survives. Mind you, I wouldn’t take a wager on those odds.’

CHAPTER TEN

Temujin heard the horns of the Wolves sound as he and Basan rode into view with the setting sun behind them. A dozen warriors galloped in perfect formation to intercept him, a spearhead of seasoned warriors well able to deal with a raiding party. He could not help comparing the instant response with the panic of the Olkhun’ut he’d left behind. It was hard to draw his mount back to a walk, but only a fool would risk being killed before he had been recognised.

He glanced at Basan, seeing a new tension there, overlaying the exhaustion. Temujin had pushed him hard to cover the distance home in only two days. Both of them had gone without sleep, surviving on water and draughts of sour yoghurt. Their time together had not begun a friendship, and as they came back into familiar territory, Temujin had sensed a growing distance between them. The warrior had been reluctant to speak, and his manner worried Temujin more than he cared to admit. It occurred to him that the arban of galloping warriors could now be enemies. He had no way of telling, and all he could do was sit tall and straight in the saddle, as his father would have wanted, while they came on.

When the warriors were within hailing distance, Basan raised his right arm, showing he did not carry a blade. Temujin recognised Eeluk amongst them and saw instantly how the others deferred to his father’s bondsman. It was he who gave the signal to halt, and something about his confidence brought Temujin close to humiliating tears. He had come home, but everything had changed. He refused to weep in front of them all, but his eyes shone.

Eeluk laid a claiming hand on Temujin’s reins. The others fell in around them and they began to trot as one, Temujin’s mount matching the pace without a command from him. It was a small thing, but Temujin felt like yanking the reins away in childish anger. He did not want to be led back to his father’s tribe like a small boy, but his wits seemed to have deserted him.

‘Your father still lives,’ Eeluk said. ‘His wound was poisoned and he has been delirious for many days.’

‘He is awake, then?’ Temujin said, hardly daring to hope.

Eeluk shrugged. ‘At times, he cries out and struggles against enemies only he can see. He is a strong man, but he takes no food and the flesh has melted off him like wax. You should prepare yourself. I do not believe he will live much longer.’

Temujin bowed his head to his chest, overcome. Eeluk looked away rather than shame him at his moment of weakness. Without warning, Temujin reached out and tugged his reins away from Eeluk’s grip.

‘Who is responsible? Has he named them?’

‘Not yet, though your mother has asked him whenever he wakes. He does not know her.’

Eeluk sighed to himself and Temujin saw his own strain mirrored in the man. The Wolves would be stunned and fearful with Yesugei raving and close to death. They would be looking for a strong leader.

‘What about my brother Bekter?’ Temujin said.

Eeluk frowned, perhaps guessing the path of Temujin’s thoughts.

‘He has ridden out with the warriors to search the plains.’ He hesitated then, as if deciding how much he should share with the boy. ‘You should not hope to find your father’s enemies now. Those that survived will have scattered days ago. They will not wait for us to find them.’

His face was a mask, but Temujin sensed some hidden anger in him. Perhaps he did not like the thought of Bekter’s influence on the warriors. The search had to be at least attempted and Bekter was an obvious choice, but Eeluk would not want new loyalties being forged away from him. Temujin thought he could read his father’s bondsman well enough, despite his attempts to hide his private self. A man would have to be a fool not to think of the succession at such a time. Temujin was almost certainly too young and Bekter was on the edge of manhood. With Eeluk’s support, either could rule the Wolves, but the alternative was obvious and chilling. Temujin forced a smile as he faced a man who was more of a threat than any of the Olkhun’ut he had left behind.

‘You have loved my father, even as I have, Eeluk. What would he want for the Wolves if he dies? Would he want you to lead them?’

Eeluk stiffened as if he had been struck, turning a murderous expression on the boy who rode at his side. Temujin did not flinch. He felt almost light-headed, but in that moment, he did not care if Eeluk killed him. No matter what the future held, he found he could return the gaze without a trace of fear.

‘I have been loyal all my life,’ Eeluk said, ‘but your father’s day has come and gone. Our enemies will be watching us for weakness as word spreads. The Tartars will come in the winter to raid our herds, perhaps even the Olkhun’ut, or the Kerait, just to see if we can still defend what is ours.’ He took a white-knuckled grip on his reins and turned away from Temujin, unable to go on with the pale yellow eyes watching him.

‘You know what he would have wanted, Eeluk. You know what you must do.’

‘No. No, I do not know, boy. I do know what you are thinking, and I tell you now, you are too young to lead the families.’

Temujin swallowed bitterness and pride in a hard knot.

‘Bekter, then. Do not betray our father, Eeluk. He treated you like a brother all his life. Honour him now by helping his son.’

To Temujin’s astonishment, Eeluk kicked his heels in and rode ahead of the group, his face flushed and furious. Temujin did not dare look at the men around him. He did not want to see their expressions and know his world had crumbled. He did not see the questioning glances they shared, nor their sorrow.

* * *

The camp of the Wolves was still and quiet as Temujin dismounted by his father’s ger and took a deep breath. He felt as if he had been away for years. The last time he had stood on that spot, his father had been vital and strong, a certainty in all their lives. It was just not possible to think that world had gone and could not be recalled.

He stood stiffly in the open, looking out over the gers of the families. He could have named every man, woman and child with just a glance at the design of their door. They were his people and he had always known his place amongst them. Uncertainty was a new emotion for him, as if there was a great hole in his chest. He found he had to summon all his courage just to enter the ger. He might have stood there even longer if he had not seen the people beginning to gather as the sun’s rays faded. He could not bear their pity, and with a grimace, he ducked through the low door and closed it against their staring faces.

The night felt had not yet been placed over the smoke hole above his head, but the ger was stifling with heat and a smell that made him want to gag. He saw his mother’s paleness when she turned to him and his defences crumbled as he rushed to her and fell into her embrace. Tears came beyond his control and she rocked him in silence as he gazed on his father’s withered body.