‘Will he live, shaman? I have lost count of the times I have been asked.’
Kokchu looked back at the young warrior lying so still. The chest barely rose and fell, and he could not say. He gestured at the bandages wrapping both legs and the splinted arm.
‘You see his wounds, lord. The beast broke two bones in his lower arm as well as three ribs. He has dislocated a finger on his right hand, though that is minor enough. The gashes have swollen and weep pus.’ He shook his head. ‘I have seen men recover from worse.’
‘Have you sealed the cuts?’ Genghis asked.
Kokchu hesitated, before speaking too quickly. In the fall of Yenking, he had taken books on medicine and magic that were worth more than all the gold and jade. He had not expected to have his treatment challenged and spoke without his usual confidence.
‘I have Chin texts that are astonishing, lord, for what they know of the body. Their practice is to pour boiling wine into a gash before stitching. I have done that, as well as poultices to bring out the fever.’
‘Then you have not sealed them in the manner of our people,’ Genghis replied, his eyes cold. ‘Have an iron brazier brought to the ger and burn the cuts properly. I have seen it work.’
Kokchu knew better than to argue further.
‘Your will, lord.’ For the father, he would press red iron against each wound, though he now considered it a crude practice, beneath a man of his learning. He hid his distaste and Genghis seemed satisfied. Kokchu saw that the khan intended to leave and spoke again, still trying to understand the man who led the tribes.
‘The pain will be intense, lord. If it wakes him, shall I give him a message from you?’
Genghis turned his pale eyes on the shaman. He left without another word.
The generals gathered in the khan’s ger, half as high again and twice as wide as any other in the camp. Khasar and Kachiun had come with Temuge, though he would only be responsible for the camp itself and would not ride with them. Tsubodai, Jelme and Chagatai had been summoned and took their places on the ring of low beds that served as couches for the khan’s council. The ger was as bare as that of the poorest herder and they were all reminded that Genghis cared nothing for wealth or its trappings.
The last pair to enter before Genghis was Arslan and the young man he had chosen as his successor. Jebe, the arrow, seemed unimpressed by the presence of so many leaders of his people in one place. As Arslan gestured for him to take a seat, he nodded to them as if he had every right to be there. The other men merely watched him, though they greeted Arslan openly, putting aside the cold face to show their appreciation of the old man. He also would not ride with them. All the men present knew that Arslan had tied packs to three mares and three stallions and that his wife and a small herd would travel into the wilderness.
Jelme’s eyes were bright with pride for his father and he made a point of vacating his seat for Arslan. The two men exchanged glances, and though they did not speak, Arslan too seemed moved that the moment was finally upon him.
When Genghis entered the ger, the men within sat subtly straighter. He took his place on a pile of saddles and blankets facing the door and gestured to a servant for a cup of goat’s milk to calm his stomach.
Arslan waited until the khan had finished the drink before speaking.
‘My lord, I commend this man to you, Jebe, whom you named.’
Genghis looked across the ger at the new face, taking in his breadth of shoulder. Jebe wore an open robe over a bare chest and his reddish skin shone with health and mutton fat. Even sitting, he seemed poised and alert, a warrior born. He made Genghis feel old.
‘You are welcome in my ger, Jebe. With Arslan to speak for you, you will always be welcome. In the days to come you will be tested. Be sure you honour his name in all that you do.’
‘I will, lord,’ Jebe replied. His confidence was obvious and Khasar grinned to himself as Genghis looked away.
Genghis took a deep breath and rested his hands on his knees. He knew as well as anyone that this meeting of generals would change the world, and he enjoyed the quiet moment while they waited for him to speak.
‘When you left me to finish the siege of Yenking, I sent envoys to far lands. Some brought back trade goods and made alliances in my name. Others were attacked or have simply not returned.’ He paused, but no man spoke. They were hardly breathing as they listened to the man who would send them out like wolves on the hunt. The entire camp knew war was coming and it was a pleasure to be the first to hear the details.
‘One group went into the west, more than two thousand miles. A single scout returned when the rest were slaughtered. At first, I did not think too much of it. It was not so long ago that a raiding party in our own land would have been killed by whichever tribe came first upon them.’
Some of the older men nodded, though Tsubodai and Jebe could barely recall those times.
‘I learned from the scout that the leader of that land is one who calls himself Shah Ala-ud-Din Mohammed.’ Genghis pronounced the name with difficulty, then gestured to Temuge. ‘On my brother’s advice, I sent a group of four hundred warriors, well armed, but only as a threat. They travelled to the closest city, Otrar, and met the governor there. They took letters with my words on them for the shah.’ Genghis grimaced at the memory. ‘I expected him to hand over the men involved, or at least to send word of where they had their camp. I called him “beloved son” and mentioned only trade and friendship.’ At that, he stared coldly at Temuge until his brother looked away. It had been his advice that had failed so spectacularly.
‘The bazaar in Otrar is a public place. I sent three spies with the warriors to witness their treatment.’ He showed his teeth for an instant as anger swelled in him. ‘The governor commands a garrison of twenty thousand. They arrested my men and tore up my words in a gesture for the crowd.’ Once more he glared at Temuge.
‘Even then, I did not react! This shah is served by a fool, but I thought perhaps he could yet be made to walk a straight path. I learned of greater cities than Otrar in the east and I sent three senior officers to the shah himself, demanding that the governor be bound and handed over to me for punishment and my men freed. In this too, I was scorned.’ His face had grown flushed and the men in the ger felt their own hearts beat faster in response.
‘Shah Mohammed sent their heads back to me,’ Genghis went on. He clenched his right fist slowly. ‘I am not the author of this trouble, but I have prayed to the sky father to give me the strength to exact vengeance.’
In the distance, they heard a man’s voice screaming and more than one head jerked at hearing it. Genghis too listened and nodded, satisfied.
‘It is Jochi. My shaman is tending his wounds.’ He looked at Chagatai as he spoke and his son blurted out a question.
‘Will he too ride with us?’
Genghis’ eyes turned distant.
‘He killed the tiger, in front of the people. And our numbers have grown.’ His expression hardened at the memory of Chagatai kneeling. ‘As you have a place, so will he, if he lives. We will cross the Altai mountains to the west and show these desert men whom they have chosen to insult.’
‘And the Chin lands?’ Khasar said. ‘There are cities more wealthy than any we have seen yet and they lie untouched in the south.’
Genghis was quiet at that. He still dreamed of bringing the southern Chin