Conn Iggulden - Conqueror - The Complete 5-Book Collection

‘It is a good name,’ Yesugei confirmed.

Temujin cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. ‘I had hoped to keep him, the red bird. As there are two.’

Yesugei looked blankly at his son. ‘Hold out your arm,’ he said.

Temujin raised his arm to the shoulder, puzzled. Yesugei held the pair of trussed chicks in the crook of one arm and used the other to press against Temujin’s hand, forcing his arm down.

‘They weigh as much as a dog, when they are grown. Could you hold a dog on your wrist? No. This is a great gift and I thank you for it. But the red bird is not for a boy, even a son of mine.’

Temujin felt tears prickle his eyes as his morning’s dreams were trampled. His father seemed oblivious to his anger and despair as he called Eeluk over.

To Temujin’s eye, Eeluk’s smile was sly and unpleasant as he came to stand by them.

‘You have been my first warrior,’ Yesugei said to the man. ‘The red bird is yours.’

Eeluk’s eyes widened with awe. He took the bird reverently, the boys forgotten. ‘You honour me,’ he said, bowing his head.

Yesugei laughed aloud. ‘Your service honours me,’ he replied. ‘We will hunt with them together. Tonight we will have music for two eagles come to the Wolves.’ He turned to Temujin. ‘You will have to tell old Chagatai all about the climb, so that he can write the words for a great song.’

Temujin did not reply, unable to stand and watch Eeluk holding the red bird any longer. He and Bekter ducked through the low doorway of the ger to see Hoelun and their new sister, surrounded by their brothers. The boys could hear their father outside, shouting to the men to see what his sons had brought him. There would be a feast that night and yet, somehow, they were uncomfortable as they met each other’s eyes. Their father’s pleasure meant a lot to all of them, but the red bird was Temujin’s.

That evening, the tribe burned the dry dung of sheep and goats and roasted mutton in the flames and great bubbling pots. The bard, Chagatai, sang of finding two eagles on a red hill, his voice an eerie combination of high and low pitch. The young men and women of the tribe cheered the verses and Yesugei was pressed into showing the birds again and again while they called piteously for their lost nest.

The boys who had climbed the red hill accepted cup after cup of black airag as they sat around the fires in the darkness. Khasar went pale and silent after the second drink, and after a third, Kachiun gave a low snort and fell slowly backwards, his cup tumbling onto the grass. Temujin stared into the flames, making himself night blind. He did not hear his father approach and he would not have cared if he had. The airag had heated his blood with strange colours that he could feel coursing through him.

Yesugei sat down by his sons, drawing his powerful legs up into a crouch. He wore a deel robe lined with fur against the night cold, but underneath, his chest was bare. The black airag gave him enough heat and he had always claimed a khan’s immunity from the cold.

‘Do not drink too much, Temujin,’ he said. ‘You have shown you are ready to be treated as a man. I will complete my father’s duty to you tomorrow and take you to the Olkhun’ut, your mother’s people.’ He saw Temujin look up and completely missed the significance of the pale golden gaze. ‘We will see their most beautiful daughters and find one to warm your bed when her blood comes.’ He clapped Temujin on the shoulder.

‘And I will stay with them while Eeluk raises the red bird,’ Temujin replied, his voice flat and cold. Some of the tone seeped through Yesugei’s drunkenness and he frowned.

‘You will do as you are told by your father,’ he said. He struck Temujin hard on the side of his head, perhaps harder than he had meant to. Temujin rocked forward, then came erect once again, staring back at his father. Yesugei had already lost interest, looking away to cheer as Chagatai stirred his old bones in a dance, his arms cutting the air like an eagle’s wings. After a time, Yesugei saw that Temujin was still watching him.

‘I will miss the gathering of tribes, the races,’ Temujin said, as their eyes met, fighting angry tears.

Yesugei regarded him, his face unreadable. ‘The Olkhun’ut will travel to the gathering, just as we will. You will have Whitefoot. Perhaps they will let you race him against your brothers.’

‘I would rather stay here,’ Temujin said, ready for another blow.

Yesugei didn’t seem to hear him. ‘You will live a year with them,’ he said, ‘as Bekter did. It will be hard on you, but there will be many good memories. I need not say that you will take note of their strength, their weapons, their numbers.’

‘We have no quarrel with the Olkhun’ut,’ Temujin said.

His father shrugged. ‘The winter is long,’ he replied.

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