Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

His most senior general, Salsanan, stepped forward and the orlok turned to acknowledge him.

‘Orlok Seriankh, I will volunteer to lead a force to Kublai, to support his withdrawal. He will not thank us for abandoning him in the field.’ The man paused and then continued. ‘He may be the next khan.’

‘Guard your mouth, general,’ Seriankh snapped. ‘It is not your place to guess and spread rumours.’ He hesitated, thinking it through. Mongke had many sons, but the succession of khans had never been smooth since the death of Genghis.

‘To support his withdrawal, very well. We have lost a khan, but Lord Kublai has lost a brother. Take eight tumans and bring him safely out of Sung territory. I will take the khan home.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

With ancient oaks overhead, Kublai sat out in the open air. He bore the pain in silence as Chabi washed a cut on his right hand with a skin of airag, taking pulls from it himself to keep him warm. They had both known men who walked away from battles with just a gash, then died in feverish delirium days or weeks later. Humming to herself, Chabi sniffed at his hand and wrinkled her nose. Kublai hissed through his teeth as she squeezed the livid edges, making a thin stream of pus dribble down to his fingers.

‘I do have shamans for this, you know,’ he said affectionately.

She snorted. ‘They’re busy and you wouldn’t bother them with it until your arm was green.’

She gave his skin another sharp pinch, making him jerk. The flow of pus grew red and she nodded, satisfied, resting one hand on the curve of her belly as new life grew within. Kublai reached out and patted the bulge affectionately as she rewrapped the cut with a clean strip of cloth.

The families and followers had moved deeper into the forest while he had been fighting the Sung, obscuring all signs that might be found by enemies looking for them. Kublai had been forced to send hundreds of his men into the green depths.

Just to reach the area, he had fought his way back past two Sung armies and seen his stocks of arrows and lances dwindle once again, though he salvaged as many as he could. Without healers and rest, some of his wounded men had died each day.

He looked overhead, oddly uncomfortable as the thick branches reduced the forest floor to gloom. At least they were hidden. The families and camp followers had been kept safe by the dense forest, but he couldn’t shake the fear that they could also hide an enemy creeping up. Even for a man of Karakorum, the forest felt stifling compared to the open plains.

He looked closer at his wife as she stood, seeing dark smudges under her eyes. She looked thin and he cursed himself for not having made better preparations. He should have known the families would be forced to butcher the flocks while they waited for him to return. The vast herds usually replenished themselves each spring, but the one thing the forest did not have was good grazing. The ground was covered in rotting leaves and what little greenery there was had been stripped down to bare earth in the first month. The families had eaten deer and rabbits, even wolves when they found them, but it had not been long before the forest was trapped out for fifty miles. The herds of sheep and goats had shrunk to the point where everyone was on a meal a day and not much meat in that.

When Kublai had ridden in at last, the sight of his people had not been inspiring. They had rallied around as the tumans came in and he made a point of praising them for their survival, even as he seethed at how badly they had done without him. It was possible to count the ribs on the precious oxen and he wondered how many would have the strength to pull carts when the time came to move. His son and pregnant wife had been given barely enough meat to survive and Kublai wanted to lash out in rage at the rest of them. He would have done if they hadn’t been just as thin and pale as Chabi.

‘We have to move the camp,’ Chabi said softly. ‘I don’t want to think what would have happened if you’d stayed out much longer.’

‘I can’t take you out. They just keep coming,’ he said. ‘You’ve never seen anything like it, Chabi. There isn’t any end to them.’

Her mouth firmed as he spoke.

‘Even so, we can’t stay here. There isn’t a rabbit for twenty miles and when the last of the flocks are gone, we’ll starve. Some of the men were saying they’d strike out on their own if you didn’t come back soon.’

‘Who?’ he demanded.

Chabi shook her head. ‘Men with families of their own. Can you blame them? We knew we were in trouble, Kublai.’

‘I’ll drive herds back from the Sung hills and villages. I’ll get new animals to pull the carts.’

He swore under his breath, knowing it wouldn’t work. Even if he could drive a herd towards the forest, the marks of their passing would be there for any Sung scout to read. He had already endangered the position by bringing his tumans back to the camp. To do it again would leave a wide road through the forest. He pushed his fingers into the corners of his eyes, easing away some of the tiredness. The camp supported the warriors with everything from arrow shafts to shelter and hot food, but he had reached an impossible position.

‘I can send out the tumans to gather food and draft beasts to be butchered, or replace the weakest of our stock …’ He swore under his breath. ‘I can’t be thinking of this, Chabi! I have made tracks into the Sung, but I need to keep going, or everything I’ve done will have been wasted.’

‘Is it so terrible to rest up for the winter? You’ll be here when the child is born, Kublai. Send out your men to bring back anything that lives, raid the local towns and you’ll be ready to go out again in the spring.’

Kublai groaned at the thought. Part of him ached at the idea of simply stopping to rest. He had never felt so tired.

‘I’ve cleared a route as far as Shaoyang and beyond, Chabi. If I can keep moving, I’ll be able to reach their capital by spring or summer. If I stop now, I’ll see another dozen armies coming out against me, fresh and strong.’

‘And you will lose the camp if you go on,’ she snapped. ‘You will lose the fletchers, the tanners and saddlers, the hardworking wives and men who keep you in the field. Will the tumans still fight well while their families starve behind them?’

‘You will not starve,’ Kublai said.

‘Saying it does not make it so. It was getting ugly before your scouts found us, husband. Some of the men were talking about taking the last food stocks for themselves and letting the weakest ones die from hunger.’

Kublai grew still, his eyes hard.

‘This time you will tell me their names, Chabi. I’ll hang them from the branches.’

‘That is a distraction! It doesn’t matter now. Find a way to solve the problem, husband. I know the pressure on you, or I think I do. I know you will work it out.’

He walked a few paces away from her, staring into the green undergrowth all around.

‘This land is rich, Chabi,’ he said after a time. ‘I can take a month to raid new flocks. We can drive them back here, but then I’m sending half the camp home to Karakorum.’ He held up a hand to forestall her as she opened her mouth. ‘These aren’t the battles Genghis knew, where he could take the entire nation and raid with tumans from the centre. The Sung are like ants in their numbers, army after army. I need to think like a raider, with the bare minimum of supplies. The women and children can go home, with enough warriors to keep them safe. You and Zhenjin will leave with them. There. You asked for a decision and that’s it. I can take a month, I think.’