Arslan,” he had said over the twang and screech of wind and string. “Will you come with me to meet our sons?”
Arslan had smiled drunkenly, nodding.
“I will take the poets to them to hear the tales of you, old man.” Genghis told him, slurring his words. It was a grand idea, and with a warm feeling, he summoned his council of generals to him. Tsubodai and Jochi called for horses as Khasar and Ogedai came staggering up. Ogedai had looked a little green and Genghis had ignored the sour smell of vomit around his son.
It was Kachiun who had brought the khan’s gray mare, a fine animal.
“This is madness, brother!” Kachiun called to him cheerfully. “Who rides fast at night? Someone will go down.”
Genghis gestured at the darkness and then his companions. “We are not afraid!” he had declared, the drunken men around him cheering the sentiment. “I have my family and my generals. I have the swordsmithArslan and Tsubodai the Valiant. Let the ground fear
us if
we fall. We will crack it open with our hard heads! Are you ready?”
“I will match you, brother,” Kachiun had replied, catching the wild mood. Both men trotted to the head of their small column. It grew by the moment as others joined them. The shaman Kokchu was there, one of the few who seemed sober. Genghis had looked for his last brother, Temuge, and saw him on foot, shaking his round head in disapproval. It did not matter, Genghis thought. The useless bastard never could ride.
He had looked around him, at his family, checking to see they all had full skins of airag and rice wine. It would not do to run short. A dozen poets had joined them, their faces bright with excitement. One had already begun declaiming lines and Genghis was tempted to kick him off his pony and leave him behind.
There was a little starlight and he could see his sons, brothers, and generals. He chuckled for an instant at the idea of some poor thief stepping out in front of this group of cutthroats.
“I will give a white mare to any man who beats me into the camp of Jelme and my son Chagatai.” He had paused a heartbeat to let this sink in and catch the wild grins of the men.
“Ride hard, if you have the heart!” He had roared then, thumping in his heels and jerking his mare into a gallop through the camp. The others were almost as quick, yelling as they raced in pursuit. Perhaps two thousand had followed the khan into the deep darkness, all those who had been within reach of their horses as the khan leapt up. Not one faltered, though the ground was hard and to fall was to throw a life and not know if it would come down.
Riding at full speed over rushing black ground helped to clear Genghis’s head a little, though an ache had come to throb behind his left eye. There was a river somewhere near, he recalled. The thought of dipping his head into the freezing water was very tempting.
His light mood tore into shreds as he sensed a flanking movement in the darkness. For a single heartbeat, he wondered if he had risked his life, without banners, drums, or anything else that marked him out as khan. Then he kicked his mount forward and yelled madly. It had to be Jelme’s men forming horns on either side of him. He rode like a maniac toward the center of the line, where he knew he would find his general.
Khasar and Kachiun were close behind and then Genghis sawJochi come past, riding flat on the saddle and yipping to his mount as he went, urging the animal on.
Together the spear point of the ragged column plunged toward Jelme’s lines, taking their lead from the khan. Two fell as their horses struck unseen obstacles. More crashed into the sprawling men and ponies in the darkness, unable to stop. Another three broke legs and were thrown. Some of the men bounced to their feet laughing and unhurt, while others would not rise again. Genghis knew none of it, so intent was he on the menace of Jelme’s men and catching his own errant son.
Jochi did not call out a warning to
Arslan had smiled drunkenly, nodding.
“I will take the poets to them to hear the tales of you, old man.” Genghis told him, slurring his words. It was a grand idea, and with a warm feeling, he summoned his council of generals to him. Tsubodai and Jochi called for horses as Khasar and Ogedai came staggering up. Ogedai had looked a little green and Genghis had ignored the sour smell of vomit around his son.
It was Kachiun who had brought the khan’s gray mare, a fine animal.
“This is madness, brother!” Kachiun called to him cheerfully. “Who rides fast at night? Someone will go down.”
Genghis gestured at the darkness and then his companions. “We are not afraid!” he had declared, the drunken men around him cheering the sentiment. “I have my family and my generals. I have the swordsmithArslan and Tsubodai the Valiant. Let the ground fear
us if
we fall. We will crack it open with our hard heads! Are you ready?”
“I will match you, brother,” Kachiun had replied, catching the wild mood. Both men trotted to the head of their small column. It grew by the moment as others joined them. The shaman Kokchu was there, one of the few who seemed sober. Genghis had looked for his last brother, Temuge, and saw him on foot, shaking his round head in disapproval. It did not matter, Genghis thought. The useless bastard never could ride.
He had looked around him, at his family, checking to see they all had full skins of airag and rice wine. It would not do to run short. A dozen poets had joined them, their faces bright with excitement. One had already begun declaiming lines and Genghis was tempted to kick him off his pony and leave him behind.
There was a little starlight and he could see his sons, brothers, and generals. He chuckled for an instant at the idea of some poor thief stepping out in front of this group of cutthroats.
“I will give a white mare to any man who beats me into the camp of Jelme and my son Chagatai.” He had paused a heartbeat to let this sink in and catch the wild grins of the men.
“Ride hard, if you have the heart!” He had roared then, thumping in his heels and jerking his mare into a gallop through the camp. The others were almost as quick, yelling as they raced in pursuit. Perhaps two thousand had followed the khan into the deep darkness, all those who had been within reach of their horses as the khan leapt up. Not one faltered, though the ground was hard and to fall was to throw a life and not know if it would come down.
Riding at full speed over rushing black ground helped to clear Genghis’s head a little, though an ache had come to throb behind his left eye. There was a river somewhere near, he recalled. The thought of dipping his head into the freezing water was very tempting.
His light mood tore into shreds as he sensed a flanking movement in the darkness. For a single heartbeat, he wondered if he had risked his life, without banners, drums, or anything else that marked him out as khan. Then he kicked his mount forward and yelled madly. It had to be Jelme’s men forming horns on either side of him. He rode like a maniac toward the center of the line, where he knew he would find his general.
Khasar and Kachiun were close behind and then Genghis sawJochi come past, riding flat on the saddle and yipping to his mount as he went, urging the animal on.
Together the spear point of the ragged column plunged toward Jelme’s lines, taking their lead from the khan. Two fell as their horses struck unseen obstacles. More crashed into the sprawling men and ponies in the darkness, unable to stop. Another three broke legs and were thrown. Some of the men bounced to their feet laughing and unhurt, while others would not rise again. Genghis knew none of it, so intent was he on the menace of Jelme’s men and catching his own errant son.
Jochi did not call out a warning to
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