Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

Hulegu’s tumans began to loot the dead, and in the distance more than one scuffle broke out as they disputed their rights over weapons and armour with the newcomers. Hulegu laughed at the sight of men rolling on the ground who had been fighting as brothers just moments before. His people were fierce, wolves all.

As his officers gathered, he saw a group of a few dozen riders detach from one of the tumans and come trotting over to him. Banners fluttered in the breeze as they came, taking their mounts carefully around the dead.

Uriang-Khadai had read the battle as he entered it. As he met Hulegu’s gaze, both men knew Hulegu owed him. Though Hulegu was a prince of the nation and a khan in his own right, he spoke first to honour the older man.

‘I was beginning to think I’d have to take another day to finish them, orlok,’ Hulegu said. ‘You are welcome here. I grant you guest rights and I hope you will eat with me this evening.’

‘I am pleased to be of service, my lord. I do not doubt you would have called the victory in the end, but if I saved you even half a day, that is good.’

Both men smiled and Hulegu wiped sweat from his face once again.

‘Where is my brother Kublai, orlok? Is he with you?’

‘Not today, my lord, though I am his man. I will be happy to explain as we eat.’

The sun had set by the time the tumans left the battlefield. Metal armour long heated in the sun tended to creak as it cooled and bodies twitched, sometimes hours after death. Experienced men could all tell tales of how they had seen dead warriors belch and even sit up in a spasm before they fell back. It was not a place to spend the night and Hulegu knew he would have to send men back to complete the looting. He led Uriang-Khadai and his warriors to a grassy plain a few miles to the west, almost at the edge of the hills. He had a basic camp there and before the moon rose to its highest point, there was simmering stew for them all, with bread hard enough to use as a spoon until it dissolved.

Hulegu was in ebullient mood as Uriang-Khadai’s senior men removed their armour and tended to their horses. His tunic was sweat-stained, but it had been a relief to get out of the armour and feel the night cool on his bare arms and face. He sat opposite Kublai’s orlok, burning with curiosity, but willing to let the man eat and drink before he demanded answers. Nothing tired a man more than fighting and the tumans never missed a chance to eat well after a battle, if they had the opportunity. They were professional men, unlike the dead Persians behind them.

When Uriang-Khadai was finished, he handed his bowl to a servant and wiped his fingers on his leggings, adding to an old patch of dark grease.

‘My lord, I am a blunt man. Let me speak bluntly,’ he said. Hulegu nodded at him. ‘Your brother Kublai asks that you step aside from the battles to come. He has declared himself khan and he will fight Lord Arik-Boke. All he asks is that you remain in your khanate and take no part.’

Hulegu’s eyes widened as the older man spoke. He shook his head in dull amazement.

‘Arik-Boke is khan,’ he said hoarsely, trying to take it in. ‘I was there, orlok. I gave my oath.’

‘I have been told to say this, my lord. Your brother Kublai calls on you to stay away while he settles this with his younger brother. He has no grievance with you, but he would not have you choose between blood brothers in a time of war.’

Uriang-Khadai watched the other man in silent hope. Kublai had given no orders to attack, but Uriang-Khadai’s tumans were already among Hulegu’s forces. At his shout, they could kill thousands. With Hulegu’s men smiling and relaxed among them, Uriang-Khadai knew he could win.

Hulegu’s eyes drifted out over the camp and perhaps he too saw the threat. He shook his head again, his expression hardening.

‘You were useful to me today, orlok. For that I am grateful. I gave you guest rights in my camp, but that does not give you the right to tell me my oath. When the sun rises …’ He stopped, his anger dwindling as confusion swelled in him.

‘How is this even possible?’ he said. ‘Kublai has not been back to Karakorum. I would have heard.’

Uriang-Khadai shrugged. ‘My master is khan, my lord. Your brother Arik-Boke should not have declared. This will be settled in a season and the nation will go on - under its rightful khan.’

‘Why has Kublai not come to me himself? Why did he send you, Uriang-Khadai?’

‘He has a war to fight, my lord. I cannot tell you all his plans. I speak with his voice and everything I have said is true. He does not ask you to break your oath. Out of love for you, he asks only that you remain until it is settled.’

Hulegu rested his head on his hands in thought. Both Arik-Boke and Kublai were his brothers. He wanted to gather them both by their necks and shake them. For the thousandth time he wished Mongke were still alive, to tell him what to do. He had given his oath, but what if Arik-Boke had been wrong to take the khanate? There had been talk even back then, voices wondering why he had not waited for Kublai to come home. This was the result. Hulegu could hardly take it in as the potential for disaster spread and spread in his mind.

At best, he would lose one of his brothers, a pain like a knife in his chest so soon after losing Mongke. At worst, the nation would tear itself apart in the conflict, leaving them vulnerable to the enemies all around. Everything Genghis had created would be destroyed in a single generation. There was no right and wrong to it, no claim that stood above the other in clear sunlight. Yet Arik-Boke was khan. No matter what Kublai said, that stood in stone, unchangeable. Hulegu slumped further.

‘This is my khanate,’ he muttered, almost to himself.

Uriang-Khadai bowed his head. ‘It will remain so, my lord. You conquered it and it will not be taken from you. My master knew you would be troubled. Your pain is his, multiplied a thousandfold. He wishes only for a quick settlement.’

‘He could stand aside,’ Hulegu said, barely whispering.

‘He cannot, my lord. He is khan.’

‘What does that matter to me, orlok?’ Hulegu demanded, his head rising. ‘There are no rules in life. Whether it is written down, or spoken by shamans, nothing binds a man beyond himself. Nothing, save the chains he accepts for himself. Laws and traditions mean nothing, if you have the strength.’

‘Kublai has the strength, my lord. Even as I speak to you here, he will be moving towards Karakorum. It will be settled before winter comes, one way or the other.’

Hulegu made his decision, his mouth becoming a firm line.

‘My brothers are at play, orlok. I want no part of it. There are cities to my north that still hold out against me. I will spend a season bringing them to siege. When that is done, I will come east to Karakorum and see who rules.’

Uriang-Khadai felt a tension leave him at the words.

‘That is wise, my lord. I am sorry to have brought you pain.’

Hulegu grunted in irritation. ‘Find another fire, orlok. I am weary of your face. As the sun rises, you will go from here. You have your answer. I will abide.’

Uriang-Khadai rose to his feet, wincing as his knees protested. He was no longer young and he wondered if he could trust the word of a man who acknowledged no power in the world beyond his own ability to destroy and lead. The honest answer was that he could not.

For an instant, Uriang-Khadai considered shouting his order to the waiting men. They were all ready. At a stroke, he could remove a man of power from the struggle.

He sighed briefly. Or he could accept the words he had been given and perhaps regret it later. Kublai had already lost one brother. Uriang-Khadai bowed and walked to another fire. He would not sleep that night, he knew.