Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection - Conn Iggulden

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      As they rested the ponies and trudged through the snow on frozen feet, Borte walked with Temujin, their arms entwined in each other’s wide sleeves, so that at least one part of them felt warm.

      ‘You will have to find a shaman to marry us,’ Borte said without looking at him.

      They walked with their heads bowed against the wind and snow crusted on their eyebrows like winter demons. He grunted assent and she felt his grip tighten briefly on her arm.

      ‘My blood has not come this month,’ she said.

      He nodded vaguely, putting one foot in front of the other. The horses were skeletal without good grass and they too would be falling soon. Surely it was time to ride them again for a few hours? His legs ached and his broken rib still pained him with every jerk of the reins.

      He drew up short in the snow and turned to her.

      ‘You are pregnant?’ he said incredulously.

      Borte leaned forward and rubbed her nose against his.

      ‘Perhaps. There has been so little food, and sometimes the blood doesn’t come because of that. I think I am, though.’ She saw him surface from his walking trance and a smile come to his eyes.

      ‘It will be a strong son to have had his beginnings on such a journey,’ he said. The wind roared in a great gust as he spoke, so that they had to turn away. They could not see the sun, but the day was fading and he shouted to Arslan to look for shelter.

      As Arslan began to scout around them for somewhere out of the wind, Temujin caught a glimpse of movement through the sheets of snow. He felt a prickle of danger at his neck and gave a low whistle for Arslan to come back. The wanderer looked quizzically at him and drew his knife in silence, staring into the snow.

      The three of them waited in tense silence for Arslan to return while the snow whipped and flailed around them. They were almost blind in its midst, but again Temujin thought he saw the shape of a mounted man, a shadow. Borte asked him a question, but he did not hear it as he shook ice from the wrappings around his bow and attached the horsehide string to one end. With a grunt of effort, he realised the string had grown damp despite the oilcloth. He managed to fit the loop over the nocked end, but it creaked ominously and he thought it could easily snap on the first pull. Where was Arslan? He could hear the rumble of horses galloping nearby, the sound echoing in the whiteness until he could not be sure which way they were coming. With an arrow on the string, he spun, listening. They were closer. He heard the wanderer give a hiss of breath through his teeth, readying himself for an attack. Temujin noted how the man held his ground and he gave thanks that there was one more with courage to stand at his side. Temujin raised the creaking bow. He saw dark shapes and heard shouting voices and, for a heartbeat, he imagined the Tartars coming for his head.

      ‘Here!’ he heard a voice. ‘They are here!’

      Temujin almost dropped the bow in relief as he recognised Kachiun and knew he was back amongst his people. He stood numbly as Kachiun leapt from his saddle into the snow and thumped into him, embracing his brother.

      ‘It has been a good winter, Temujin,’ Kachiun said, hammering him excitedly on the back with his gloved hand. ‘Come and see.’

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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      Temujin and the others mounted for the last mile, though their ponies were dropping in exhaustion. The camp they came to was set against the dark face of an ancient landslip, sheltered from the worst of the wind by an overhang above and the hill at their back. Two dozen gers clustered there like lichen, with wild dogs and tethered ponies in every available spot out of the wind. Despite aching for rest and hot food, Temujin could not help glancing around at the bustling place hidden away in the snow. He could see Jelme kept the camp on a war footing. Warriors on their way to a long watch strode by with their heads down against the wind. There were far more men than women and children, Temujin noticed, seeing the camp with the fresh eyes of a stranger. That was a blessing when they were ready to ride and fight at a moment’s notice, but it could not go on for ever. Men followed their leaders to war, but they wanted a home to return to, with a woman’s touch in the dark and children round the feet like puppies.

      Those who had known hunger and fear as wanderers might be satisfied with the fledgling tribe in the snow, though even then they were as wary of each other as wild dogs. Temujin repressed his impatience. The wanderers would learn to see a brother where once had stood an enemy. They would learn the sky father knew only one people and saw no tribes. It would come in time, he promised himself.

      As he walked through the camp, he became more alert, shrugging off his weariness as the details caught his interest. He saw watchers high on the cliff above his head, bundled against the wind. He did not envy them and he thought they would see little in the constant snow. Still, it showed Jelme’s thoroughness and Temujin was pleased. The camp had a sense of urgency in every movement, rather than the usual winter lethargy that affected the tribes. He felt the suppressed excitement as soon as he was amongst them.

      There were new faces there, men and women who looked at him as if he was a stranger. He imagined they saw his ragged group as another wanderer family brought into the fold. Temujin looked at Borte to see how she was taking her first sight of his little tribe in the north. She too was pale with tiredness, but she rode close to his side and her sharp eyes took it all in. He could not tell if she approved. They passed a ger where Arslan had built a brick forge months before and Temujin saw the glow from its flame, a tongue of light on the snow. There were men and women in there for the warmth and he heard laughter as he trotted by. He turned to the swordsmith to see if he had noticed, but Arslan was oblivious. His gaze searched ceaselessly among the tribe, looking for his son.

      Jelme came out to meet them as soon as he heard Kachiun shout. Khasar too came skidding from a different ger, beaming in delight at the sight of the small party who had been gone half a year. As they dismounted, grinning boys ran to take their ponies without having to be summoned. Temujin cuffed at one, making him duck. He was pleased with Jelme’s stewardship of the tribe. They had not grown fat and slow in his absence.

      Arslan’s pride in his son was obvious and Temujin saw Jelme nod to his father. To Temujin’s surprise, Jelme went down on one knee and reached out for Temujin’s hand.

      ‘No, Jelme, stand up,’ Temujin said, half irritably. ‘I want to get out of the wind.’

      Jelme remained where he was, though he raised his head.

      ‘Let the new men see, my lord khan. They do not know you yet.’

      Temujin understood and his appreciation of Jelme went up a degree. Some of the wanderer families would have known Jelme as the closest thing to a khan for the months Temujin had been away. It was important to show them the true leader had returned. He did not argue again, and allowed Jelme to place his hand on his head before lifting him up and embracing him.

      ‘Did you find a shaman amongst these new arrivals?’ Temujin asked.

      Jelme winced at the question as he rose. ‘There is one, though he stole the supply of airag and bargains his ration for more whenever he can.’

      ‘Keep him sober for a few days, then,’ Temujin said. ‘As long as he can dedicate my marriage to the sky father and earth mother, I’ll keep him drunk for a month afterwards.’

      He looked around him once more, seeing how many faces had stopped in the snow and wind to watch the scene. As he caught the eyes of those he knew, they bowed their heads in acknowledgement. Jelme’s gaze fell on Borte and Eluin and he bowed low at the waist.

      ‘We are honoured to have you with us, daughters of the Olkhun’ut,’ he said.

      Borte did not know what to make of the confident stranger. She dipped her head jerkily in return, flushing as she looked away. Nothing in her life had prepared her to be treated with respect and, for a moment, she had to blink back

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