LITMIR.BIZ

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the flame down to barely more than a glowing cinder.

      ‘You cannot stay here,’ Basan’s wife said.

      Temujin saw the fear in her face, but he turned in mute appeal to his father’s bondsman and waited.

      Basan shook his head, appalled at the shambling figure that stood hunched in his home.

      ‘They are looking for you,’ Basan said.

      ‘Hide me, then, for a day, until the search is over,’ Temujin replied. ‘I claim guest rights.’ He did not hear an answer and he slumped suddenly, the last of his strength vanishing. He slid to his knees and his head lolled forward.

      ‘We cannot send him away,’ he heard Basan tell his wife. ‘Not to be killed.’

      ‘He will kill us all,’ she said, her voice rising in volume.

      Blearily, Temujin watched Basan cross the ger to her, holding her face in both his hands.

      ‘Make him tea and find something to eat,’ he told her. ‘I will do this for his father.’

      She did not respond, though she moved to the kettle and began stoking the little iron stove, her face hard. Temujin felt himself lifted in Basan’s strong arms and then darkness overwhelmed him.

      Eeluk did not think to search the gers of the families. His initial good humour faded visibly as the second day passed and then the third with no sign of the fugitive. At the end of the fourth day, Basan returned to Temujin to report that Arslan and his son had also vanished. They had ridden north that morning with one of the bondsmen, but none of them had returned by sunset and Eeluk was beside himself with rage. He had sent men to the ger he had given the swordsmith and found that his most valuable tools had vanished along with him. No one was expecting the bondsman to come back and the wailing of his family could be heard long into the night. The mood of the Wolves had soured and Eeluk had knocked a man unconscious for questioning his decision to send them out again.

      Temujin could barely remember the first two days. A fever had set in, perhaps from the stinking air of the pit. The freezing river had cleaned his skin and perhaps that had saved him. Basan’s wife had tended his wounds with stern efficiency, bathing away the worst of the remaining filth and dabbing at the blood and pus with a cloth dipped in boiled airag. He had groaned at her touch and had a memory of her hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

      Basan had left them to join the other men each morning, after stern warnings to his two sons not to say a word to anyone. They watched Temujin with owlish curiosity, frightened by the stranger who said nothing and bore such awful wounds. They were old enough to understand that their father’s life depended on their silence.

      Eeluk had taken to drinking more and more heavily as his search parties returned empty-handed day after day. By the end of a week, he gave a drunken order for the families to continue further north, leaving the pit and their bad luck behind them. That night, he retired to his ger with two of the youngest girls in the tribe, and their families had dared not complain. Basan took a late watch from midnight until dawn, seeing a chance to spirit Temujin out of the camp at last. The families were unhappy and nervous and he knew there would be eyes watching and listening whenever he moved. Though it was fraught with danger, Temujin would be discovered when the gers were dismantled, so it was that night or nothing.

      It was hard to do anything in the tight-knit society of the tribe without it being noticed. Basan waited as close to midnight as he could, leaving the top felt off the ger and peering up at the stars as they crept across the bowl of sky above. As a result, they were all shivering by the time he judged the tribe was as quiet and still as it was going to get. Those who were still awake would not remark on a trusted bondsman going out to take his watch, though Basan had agonised over giving Temujin one of his ponies. He had eleven and loved them all as his children. In the end, he had chosen a small black mare and brought her to the door of his ger, tying on saddlebags with enough food to keep Temujin alive for the trip.

      Temujin stood in the deepest shadow and struggled to find words to express his gratitude. He had nothing to give even the children and he felt ashamed for the burden and fear he had brought into their home. Basan’s wife had not warmed to him, though Basan’s oldest son seemed to have lost his nervousness and replaced it with awe when he heard who the stranger was in their home. The little boy had visibly summoned his courage when Basan told them it would be that night, and approached Temujin with all the self-consciousness of his twelve years. To Temujin’s surprise, the boy had gone down on one knee and reached out for his hand, pressing it down on the top of his head, where Temujin could feel his scalp lock of hair against the bristly skin.

      Temujin found his throat tight with emotion at the boy’s simple gesture. ‘Your father is a brave man,’ he murmured. ‘Be sure to follow his steps.’

      ‘I will, my khan,’ the boy replied.

      Temujin stared at him and Basan’s mother hissed in a breath. At the door, Basan heard the exchange and shook his head, troubled. Before Temujin could reply, the bondsman crossed the ger to his son and lifted him to his feet.

      ‘You cannot give an oath to this man, little one. When the time comes, you will pledge your sword and your life to Eeluk, as I have.’ He could not meet Temujin’s eyes as he spoke, but the little boy’s resistance fled in his father’s strong grip. He ducked away and scurried to his mother’s embrace, watching them both from under the crook of her arm.

      Temujin cleared his throat.

      ‘My father’s spirit watches us,’ he murmured, seeing his frozen breath like a plume of mist. ‘You do him honour in saving me.’

      ‘Walk with me now,’ Basan said, embarrassed. ‘Do not speak to anyone and they will think you are another of the guards on the hills.’ He held open the door and Temujin ducked through it, wincing at the pain from his scabs. He wore a clean tunic and leggings under a padded winter deel that belonged to Basan. Beneath the thick layers, the worst of his wounds were heavily bandaged. He was far from healed, but he yearned to be placed in a saddle. He would find his tribe among the wanderers of the plains and the Wolves would not catch him again.

      Basan walked deliberately slowly through the encampment, trusting in the dark to hide the identity of his companion if anyone was fool enough to brave the cold. There was a chance someone might notice that he returned without his mare, but he had no choice. It did not take long to leave the gers behind and no one challenged them. The two men walked together in silence, leading the pony by the reins until the camp of the Wolves was far behind. It was late and Basan would have to work up a sweat to reach his post without causing comment. When they were hidden in the shadow of a hill, he pressed the reins into Temujin’s hands.

      ‘I have wrapped my second bow and placed it here,’ he said, patting a bundle tied to the saddle. ‘There is a little food, but I have left you two arrows with it, for when you need to hunt. Lead her on foot until you are far away, or the watchers will hear your hooves. Stay in the shadow of the hills as long as you can.’

      Temujin nodded, reaching out to clasp the bondsman by his arm. The man had been his captor with Tolui and then saved his life and risked his own family to do it. He did not understand him, but he was grateful.

      ‘Watch for me on the horizon, Basan,’ he said. ‘I have scores to settle with the Wolves.’

      Basan looked at him, seeing again the determination that reminded him chillingly of Yesugei when he was young.

      ‘That is your father talking,’ he said, shivering suddenly.

      Temujin returned his gaze for a long moment, then clapped him on the shoulder.

      ‘When you see me again, I promise your family will be safe,’ he said, then clicked in his throat to start the mare walking once more. Basan watched him go before he realised he was late and began to run. By the time Temujin passed out of the hill shadow, only Basan would be there to see him go and his horn would remain silent.

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

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