Conn Iggulden - Wolf of the Plains

Once that task was done, Temujin set about finding sheep droppings, pulling them apart in his fingers to see if they were dry enough to burn cleanly and well. He collected a pile of the best ones and drew a stick of flint across an old knife to light strands of them, building the sparks into a tongue of flame and then a fire. Yesugei cut pieces of dried mutton and some wild onions with sheep fat, the delicious smell making their mouths water. Hoelun had given them bread that would soon be hard, so they broke the flat loaves and soaked them in the stew.

They sat across from each other to eat, sucking the meat juices from their fingers between mouthfuls. Temujin saw his father’s gaze fall on the pack that contained the black airag and fetched it for him. He watched patiently as the khan took a deep swig.

‘Tell me about the Olkhun’ut,’ Temujin said.

His father’s mouth curled in an unconscious sneer.

‘They are not strong, though there are many of them, like ants. I sometimes think I could ride in there and kill all day before they brought me down.’

‘They don’t have warriors?’ Temujin said incredulously. His father was not above making up some outlandish story, but he seemed serious.

‘Not like Eeluk. You’ll see. They use the bow rather than the sword and they stand far off from their enemy, never coming close unless they have to. Shields would make a mockery of them, though they would kill the ponies easily enough. They are like wasps stinging, but if you ride in amongst them, they scatter like children. That is how I took your mother. I crept up, then I leapt on them.’

‘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.