Conn Iggulden - Wolf of the Plains

In grim silence, Temujin continued to grease his reins and check every last strap and knot on the halter and stirrups. He would not give his father an excuse to criticise him in front of his younger brothers. Not that they were anywhere to be seen. The ger was very quiet after the drinking the night before. The golden eagle chick could be heard calling for food and it was Hoelun who ducked through the door to feed it a scrap of bloody flesh. The task would be hers while Yesugei was away, but it hardly distracted her from making sure her husband was content and had all he needed for the trip.

The ponies snorted and called to each other, welcoming another day. It was a peaceful scene and Temujin stood in the middle like a sullen growth, looking for the smallest excuse to lash out. He did not want to find himself some cow-like wife. He wanted to raise stallions and ride with the red bird, known and feared. It felt like a punishment to be sent away, for all he knew that Bekter had gone before and come back. By the time Temujin returned, Bekter’s betrothed could well be in a ger with her new husband and his brother would be a man to the warriors.

The problem of Bekter was part of the reason for Temujin’s sour mood. It had become his habit to prod the older boy’s pride and see to it that he did not become too clearly their father’s favourite. In his absence, Temujin knew Bekter would be treated as the heir. After a year had passed, his own right to inherit might be almost forgotten.

Yet what else could he do? He knew Yesugei’s views on disobedient sons. If he refused to travel, he would be certain of a beating, and if he continued to be stubborn, he could find himself thrown out of the tribe. Yesugei often threatened such a thing when the brothers were too noisy or fought too roughly with each other. He never smiled when he made his threats, and they did not think he was bluffing. Temujin shuddered at the thought. To be a nameless wanderer was a hard fate. No one to watch the herds while you slept, or to help you climb a hill. On his own, he would starve, he was almost certain, or more likely be killed raiding a tribe for supplies.

His earliest memories were of cheerful shoving and bickering with his brothers in the gers. His people were never alone and it was difficult even to imagine what that would be like. Temujin shook his head a fraction as he watched his father load the mounts. He knew better than to show anything but the cold face. He listened as Eeluk and Yesugei grunted in rhythm, pulling the ropes as tight as they could possibly get. It was not a heavy load for just the two of them.

Temujin watched as the men finished, then stepped past Eeluk and checked each knot on his own pony one last time. His father’s bondsman seemed to stiffen, but Temujin did not care about his hurt feelings. Yesugei had told him often enough that a man must not depend on the skill of lesser men. Even then, Temujin did not dare to check Yesugei’s knots. His father’s temper was too uncertain. He might find it amusing, or simply knock his son flat for his impudence.

Temujin frowned at the thought of the ride ahead, with just his father for company and none of his brothers to break the silences. He shrugged to himself. He would endure it as he had found he could endure any other discomfort. What was this but another trial? He had waited out storms, from both Yesugei and the sky father. He had suffered thirst and hunger until he was tempted to bite himself for the taste of his own blood. He had lived through winters where the herds froze to death and one summer that burned the skin, so that they all had fat yellow blisters. His father had borne those things without complaint or sign of weakness, demonstrating limitless stamina. It lifted those around him. Even Eeluk lost his sour face in Yesugei’s presence.

Temujin was standing as stiff and pale as a silver birch sapling when Hoelun ducked under the pony’s neck and embraced her son. He could feel the tiny child at her breast wriggle as he smelled sweet milk and mutton grease. When she released him, the tiny little girl began to squawk, red in the face at the unwanted interruption. Temujin watched Hoelun tuck her flat breast back under the questing mouth. He could not look his mother in the eye and she glanced at where Yesugei stood nearby, proud and silent as he stared off into the distance. Hoelun sighed.

‘Stop it, Yesugei,’ she said loudly.

Her husband jerked, his head coming round with a flush darkening his cheeks. ‘What are you …?’ he began.

She interrupted him. ‘You know exactly what I mean. You haven’t a kind word for the boy, and you expect to ride the next three days in silence?’

Yesugei frowned, but Hoelun wasn’t finished with him.

‘You took the boy’s bird and gave it to that ugly bondsman of yours. Did you expect him to laugh and thank you for it?’

Yesugei’s pale gaze flickered over Eeluk and his son, gauging the reaction to the speech.

‘He is too young,’ he muttered.

Hoelun hissed like a pot on the stove. ‘He is a boy about to be betrothed. He is young and too proud, just as his stubborn father is. He is so much like you that you cannot even see it.’

Yesugei ignored this, and Temujin did not know what to say as his mother looked back at him.

‘He listens, though he pretends not to, Temujin,’ she murmured. ‘He is like you in that.’ She reached up to take his cheek in her strong fingers. ‘Do not be wary of the families of my people. They are good-hearted, though you must keep your eyes down around the young men. They will test you, but you must not be afraid.’

Temujin’s yellow eyes flashed.

‘I am not afraid,’ he said. She waited and his defiant expression altered subtly. ‘All right, I am listening as well,’ he said.

She nodded and from a pocket brought a bag of sweet milk curds, pressing it into his hand.

‘There is a bottle of black airag in the saddlebag against the cold. These are for the journey. Grow strong and be kind to whichever girl is chosen for you.’

‘Kind?’ Temujin replied. For the first time since his father had told him he was going, he felt a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. Somewhere there was a stranger who would be his wife and bear his children. He could not imagine what she might look like, or even what he wanted in such a woman.

‘I hope she is like you,’ he said thoughtfully.

Hoelun beamed and hugged him with a brief clasp that set his little sister crying indignantly. ‘You are a good boy, Temujin. You will make her a fine husband,’ she said.

To his astonishment, he saw tears gleaming in her eyes. She rubbed at them even as he felt an answering pang. His defences were crumbling and she saw his fear that he would be humiliated in front of Yesugei and Eeluk. Men on their way to be betrothed did not bawl with their mothers.

Hoelun gripped her son briefly around the neck, then turned away, exchanging a last few murmured words with her husband. The khan of the Wolves sighed visibly, nodding in reply as he mounted. Temujin leapt nimbly into his own saddle.

‘Temujin!’ he heard.

He smiled as he turned his white-footed pony with a gentle pressure on the reins. His sleepy brothers had roused themselves at last and come out to see him off. Temuge and Khasar clustered around his stirrups, adoration in their faces. Kachiun winced against the light as he took a moment to inspect a fraying front hoof. They were a noisy, lively group and Temujin felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease.

Bekter came out of the ger, his flat face impassive. Temujin regarded him, seeing a sparkle of triumph in the empty gaze. Bekter too had thought how much easier his life would be without Temujin there. It was hard not to worry for the younger ones, but Temujin would not shame them by voicing his concern. The bones had been thrown and the future laid out for all of them. A strong man could bend the sky to suit him, but only for himself, Temujin knew. They were on their own.