Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

As Ariuna had earlier, Tsubodai searched his eyes with his own and subsided, tension drifting out of him.

‘Ask, boy. I don’t know if you will like my answer.’

Batu took a deep breath.

‘You know Guyuk as well as anyone.’ Tsubodai said nothing, so he went on. ‘Did you know the new khan has not yet been chosen?’

The old man nodded. ‘I’m not in a desert. I heard that much, at least.’

‘It has to be Guyuk, or Mongke, or Baidur … or me. We are the only four in reach, and Mongke pledged his word years ago, when he heard Ogedai had died. He will support Guyuk.’

Tsubodai scratched the side of his jaw. ‘It’s done, then. Throw in with Mongke and Guyuk. Baidur will follow along, once he knows you are together. Guyuk will be khan and I will be left alone.’

‘Is that what you would do?’ Batu asked seriously.

Tsubodai laughed, an unpleasant, bitter sound.

‘Me? No. But I am not you and all my choices have already been made, good and bad.’

‘Then why would you have me support him? In my place, what would you do?’

Tsubodai didn’t answer immediately. He stared out over the darkening fields, his gaze roaming over the stream and the distant hills. Batu waited.

‘I am not in your place,’ Tsubodai said at last. ‘I do not know what drives you. If you want to get the best bargain, then hold on as long as you can and judge the moment when his gifts are likely to become threats. Secure your own lands and perhaps you will survive long enough to enjoy them.’

‘And what if I care nothing for the best bargain?’ Batu said, offended. ‘What if I think Guyuk should not lead the nation?’

‘Then I cannot help you. If you stand in his way, you will be destroyed, without a doubt.’ The old man seemed on the verge of saying something else, but he shut his mouth firmly.

‘What is it? You speak in riddles, old man. You tell me you would not follow him, but that I will be destroyed if I don’t. What sort of a choice is that?’

‘A simple one,’ Tsubodai said with a smile. He turned to Batu properly for the first time. ‘You have not come to me for answers. You know everything you need to know. Are you troubled by those who share Guyuk’s bed? Is it that? Do his companions fill you with anger, or is it envy?’ Tsubodai laughed.

‘He could take dead goats to his bed, for all I care,’ Batu said with an expression of distaste. ‘What matters is that he is a small man, a man without dreams of any kind. He has only cunning, where the nation needs intelligence. You cannot tell me he would make a good khan.’

‘He would be a terrible khan,’ Tsubodai replied. ‘Under Guyuk, we will see the nation wither away, or broken apart. But if you will not stand against him, who will? Anyway, it is too late. You are already on your way to a gathering. You will give your oath to Guyuk and he will be khan.’

Batu blinked in surprise. His warriors waited for him in a valley more than a day’s ride away. Tsubodai could not have known, unless he was lying about having no sources of information any longer. Perhaps there were a few old men who still came to share tea and news with the orlok after all.

‘You know a few things, for a man who claims to be nothing more than a simple herder.’

‘People talk. Like you. Always talking, as if there is nothing better to do. Did you want me to say that you are making the right choice? Perhaps you are. Now leave me in peace.’

Batu stifled his irritation.

‘I came to ask you what Genghis would have done. You knew him.’

Tsubodai grinned at that, showing his teeth. Two were missing at the side of his mouth, so that his cheek was sunken there. It was easy to see the shape of his skull, the skin stretched over the bone.

‘Your grandfather was a man without compromise. Do you understand what that means? There are many who say “I believe this”, but would they hold true to those beliefs if their children were threatened? No. But Genghis would. If you told him you would kill his children, he would tell you to go ahead, but realise that the cost would be infinite, that he would tear down cities and nations and the price would never be paid. He did not lie and his enemies knew it. His word was iron. So you tell me if he would support a man like Guyuk as khan.’

‘No,’ Batu muttered.

‘Not in a thousand years, boy. Guyuk is a follower, not a leader. There was a time when even you had him trotting around in your wake. That is not a weakness in a carpenter or a man who makes tiles for a roof. The world cannot be full of lead dogs, or the pack would pull itself apart.’ He rubbed his dog behind the ears and the animal grunted and slobbered at him. ‘Wouldn’t it, Temujin?’ he said to the hound. ‘They can’t all be like you, can they?’ The dog settled onto its stomach with a grunt, its front legs outstretched.

‘You named your dog after Genghis?’ Batu asked in disbelief.

Tsubodai chuckled ‘Why not? It pleased me to do so.’ The old man looked up again. ‘A man like Guyuk cannot change. He cannot simply decide one day that he will lead and be good at it. It is not in his nature.’

Batu rested his hands on the wooden spar. The sun had begun to set while they talked, shadows thickening and merging all around them.

‘But if I resist him, I will be destroyed,’ he said softly.

Tsubodai shrugged in the darkness. ‘Perhaps. Nothing is certain. It did not stop your father taking his men out of the nation. There was no middle path with him. He was another in the same mould.’

Batu glanced at the old man, but he could barely see his features in the gloom.

‘That did not work out too well.’

‘You are too young to understand,’ Tsubodai replied.

‘Try,’ Batu said. He could feel the old man’s gaze on him.

‘People are always afraid, boy. Perhaps you must live a long time just to see it. I sometimes think I’ve lived too long. We will all die. My wife will die. I will, you, Guyuk, everyone you have ever met. Others will walk over our graves and never know we laughed or loved, or hated each other. Do you think they will care if we did? No, they will have their own blind, short lives to live.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Batu said in frustration.

‘No, because you’re too young,’ Tsubodai said with a shrug. Batu heard the old man sigh to himself. ‘There’s a good chance there are bones in this valley, men and women who once thought they were important. Do we think of them? Do we share their fears and dreams? Of course not. They are nothing to the living and we don’t even know their names. I used to think I would like to be remembered, to have people say my name in a thousand years, but I won’t care if they do, because I’ll be dust and spirit. Maybe just dust, but I’m still hoping for spirit as well. When you’re older, you will realise the only thing that matters, the only thing, is that you had courage and honour. Lose those things and you won’t die any quicker, but you’ll be less than the dirt on our boots. You’ll still be dust, but you’ll have wasted your short time in the light. Your father failed, yes, but he was strong and he tried to do right by his people. He didn’t waste his life. That’s all you can ask.’ The effort of speaking seemed to have tired the old man. He cleared his throat and spat carelessly on the ground. ‘You don’t get long in the world. These mountains will still be here after me, or you.’

Batu was silent for a long time before he spoke again.

‘I never knew him, my father. I never even met him.’

‘I am sorry I ever did,’ Tsubodai replied. ‘That’s how I understand about honour, boy. It’s only when you lose it that you realise how valuable it is, but it’s too late then.’