Conn Iggulden - Conqueror (2011)

‘The reign of Emperor Huaizong has begun well,’ he said. ‘You have driven out the enemy and you will have time now to secure your position and complete your training.’

It was perhaps the wrong thing to say to an eleven-year-old. Lord Sung Win frowned as the boy’s mouth turned into a sneer.

‘You think I should return to my dusty tutors? They are not here, Lord Sung Win. I am free of them! My army is marching. Shall I stop now? I could drive them from Chin lands. I could drive them right back to their home.’

‘The Son of Heaven knows our cities lie defenceless behind us,’ Lord Sung Win said, searching for the right words. ‘In normal times, we have strong garrisons, but they have either been lost to the enemy or they are here with us. I’m sure the Son of Heaven knows the tales of armies who drove too far into the lands of their enemies and were cut off from behind, then lost.’

Emperor Huaizong looked at him in irritation, but lapsed into silence, biting his lip as he thought. Lord Sung Win prayed silently that the boy would not begin his reign with an unplanned campaign. Warily, he chose to speak again.

‘The Son of Heaven knows they are well supplied on their own land, while we must bring in food and equipment for hundreds of miles. Such a campaign is worthy for the second or third years of a reign, but not in the first, not without planning. The Son of Heaven knows this much better than his humble servants.’

The boy made a sulky noise in his throat.

‘Very well, Lord Sung Win. Begin work on such a campaign. We will chase these men to the border, but you will lead the war next year. I am not a sick old man, Sung Win. I will take back the lands of my ancestors.’

Sung Win bowed deeply as best he could in the saddle.

‘The Son of Heaven honours me in sharing his great wisdom,’ he said. A bead of sweat ran down his nose and he rubbed it discreetly. It was like the village boys who played with snakes, laughing wildly at the danger as a cobra lunged for them. A single mistake would mean death, but they still did it, gathering around in a circle whenever they found one. Sung Win felt like one of those boys as he stared at the ground passing underneath him, not daring to raise his eyes.

Kublai’s neck hurt from staring over his shoulder as he rode, his frustration clear to see. He felt Uriang-Khadai’s gaze on him and his frown eased.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn the tumans around and charge them. I’ve never seen so many soldiers on the move. With Bayar gone ahead, we have what, a tenth of their numbers? A twentieth? I’ve learned enough to know when to attack and when to tuck in my tail and run.’

He spoke lightly, but Uriang-Khadai could see the glances back were calculating, watching for flaws in the Sung lines. They were too far off to read accurately, but Kublai had spent a long time facing those very soldiers. He knew their strengths and weaknesses as well as his own.

‘Do you see how the centre is protected?’ Kublai said. ‘That formation is new. So many, orlok! It has to be the emperor, or at the least one of his relatives. Yet I must leave them behind to fight my own brother.’ He leaned over in the saddle and spat as if he wanted to rid himself of the taste of the words.

‘Still, we go on,’ he said. ‘Do you think they will stop at the border?’ His question was almost hopeful, but Uriang-Khadai answered quickly.

‘Unless they are led by a man like your grandfather, almost certainly. They have put everything they had into a short campaign in their own lands. I doubt they have food enough to feed so many for more than a few weeks.’

‘If they cross the border, I will be forced to take them on,’ Kublai said, watching the older man closely. He laughed as Uriang-Khadai winced. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’ll fight a running battle back to Xanadu and wear them down in my lands. I’ll scour the ground before me and keep them hungry and on the move. We could do it, orlok. What are tenfold odds to us?’

‘Destruction, I suspect, my lord khan,’ Uriang-Khadai said. He thought Kublai was only teasing him, but there was an underlying hunger in the younger man. He had given much of his prime to the task of defeating the Sung. It had hurt Kublai deeply to break off, and for all his banter, the orlok thought he might welcome the chance to end it against the emperor himself.

As they crossed the border into Chin lands, marked by a series of small white temples, more and more of the men began looking back to see if the pursuing forces would follow. It was a bitter-sweet moment for Kublai when he saw the Sung vanguard halt. He had deliberately slowed his pace by then, so that they were barely a mile behind. He could see the front ranks standing in perfect stillness as they watched the Mongols depart and he imagined their jubilation. The border darkened with standing men and horses for miles to the east and west, a clear statement of strength and confidence. We are here, they were saying. We are not afraid to face you.

‘I will have to leave tumans here with such an army this close,’ Kublai said to Uriang-Khadai.

‘There is no point. No small part of our forces could resist such a host,’ Uriang-Khadai replied. ‘The Chin dominion has its own tumans. You are now their khan, my lord. They are yours to use. Yet if the Sung invade while we are riding against your brother, your cities could be sacked. You could lose Xanadu and Yenking.’

‘I am too old to do it all again! What do you suggest?’

‘Make Salsanan your orlok for Chin lands. Give him the task of defending the territory and your authority to raise and lead armies in your name. You have ten times the land of this Sung emperor. He will not find it easy, even if he is foolish enough to enter your domain.’

Kublai nodded, making a quick decision.

‘Very well. I will also leave one tuman here, to patrol the border and make it look as if we are ready for them.’

‘Or to carry the news if the attack begins,’ Uriang-Khadai said, refusing to give up his dour tone.

Kublai sighed as he rode further and further away from the border. It was the end of his campaign against the Sung. He prayed to the sky father that he would see the southlands again before he died.

By crossing, Kublai knew he had passed into territory that linked right back to Karakorum. He would not have been able to move his tumans without yam riders reporting it, galloping off on the first leg of a journey that would take them into Arik-Boke’s presence. There had been only one way around the problem and he had discussed it with General Bayar as well as Uriang-Khadai. Only Salsanan had spoken against the idea and Kublai had ignored him. Salsanan had not been there for the years of war among the Sung and he had not yet earned the respect of the others. Kublai was satisfied at the idea of giving the man orders to defend the Chin khanate.

They found the first yam station on a crossroads some ten miles in from the border. It had been looted, the riders taken as warriors for Bayar, the stables empty. Kublai rode past the way station with a sense of misgiving. It would be the first of many as his general broke yam lines right across Chin territory. In that single act, Kublai knew he had declared war on his brother. It could not be taken back. He had set a path that would end with his death or in Karakorum. He clenched his jaw as he rode on and a sense of relief swept over him. Xanadu lay north, where he would leave the rest of his camp followers, as well as Chabi and his baby daughter. His son Zhenjin would stay with him, strong enough at last to endure the distances. Kublai nodded to himself. From Xanadu, his warriors would ride with just spare horses and provisions, enough to last a month. They would go out almost as raiders, moving as fast as any force Genghis had commanded. It felt good to take his own fate in his hands. The choice was made; the doubts were past.