LITMIR.BIZ

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to Togrul, as if Wen Chao had not spoken. ‘We will need many sets of the Chin armour. The Olkhun’ut have two men with forges and the skill for swords and plate. I have given them their orders. We will also need to armour our horses, with leather and iron on the neck and chest.’ He paused, watching as Togrul wrestled with a chewy piece of meat.

      ‘I have shown the success of our tactics against the smaller groups,’ Temujin went on, ‘though we were outnumbered even then. The Tartars do not use our charging line, nor the horns formation to flank them.’ He flickered a glance at Wen Chao. ‘I do not fear their numbers.’

      ‘Still, you would have me risk everything,’ Togrul said, shaking his head.

      It was Wen Chao who interrupted the silent communication between them.

      ‘This army of Tartars must be broken, my lord khan,’ he said softly to Togrul. ‘My masters will remember your service in this. There are lands marked out for your people when the battle is over. You will be king there and never know hunger or war again.’

      Once more, Temujin saw the proof that Wen Chao had a peculiar hold over the fat khan, and his dislike for the Chin ambassador increased sharply. As much as their needs were the same, he did not enjoy seeing one of his own people in the thrall of the foreign diplomat.

      To cover his irritation, Temujin began to eat, enjoying the taste of Olkhun’ut herbs. He noticed that it was only then that Wen Chao matched him and reached for the platters. The man was too used to intrigue, Temujin thought. It made him dangerous.

      Togrul too had noticed the movement, considering the meat in his hand for a moment before popping it into his mouth with a shrug.

      ‘You wish to lead the Kerait?’ Togrul said.

      ‘For this one battle, yes, as I have done before,’ Temujin replied. This was the heart of it and he could not blame Togrul for his fears. ‘I have my own tribe now, Togrul. Many look to me for safety and leadership. When the Tartars are crushed, I will go south into warmer lands for a year or so. I have had enough of the cold north. My father’s death has been avenged and perhaps I will know peace and raise sons and daughters.’

      ‘Why else do we fight?’ Togrul murmured. ‘Very well, Temujin. You will have the men you need. You will have my Kerait, but when we are done, they will come east with me to a new land. Do not expect them to remain where no enemy threatens us.’

      Temujin nodded and put out his hand. Togrul’s greasy fingers closed over his and their eyes met, neither man trusting the other.

      ‘Now I am sure my wife and mother would like to be reunited with their people,’ Temujin said, gripping the hand tightly.

      Togrul nodded. ‘I will have them sent to you,’ he said and Temujin felt the last of his tension ease within him.

      Hoelun walked through the camp of her childhood with Borte and Eluin. The three women were accompanied by Khasar and Kachiun, as well as Arslan. Temujin had warned them not to relax. The Olkhun’ut had apparently accepted him, carried along by the irresistible tide of events. It did not mean they were safe to stroll anywhere amongst the gers.

      Borte’s pregnancy was growing heavy, altering her gait so that she could barely keep up with Hoelun. She had leapt at the chance to visit the families of the Olkhun’ut. She had left them as the woman of a raider. To return as the wife of their khan was an exquisite pleasure. She strode with her head high, calling out to those she recognised. Eluin craned her neck in excitement, searching for a glimpse of her family. When she saw them, she darted past two sleeping dogs to embrace her mother. She had grown in confidence since coming to the camp. Khasar and Kachiun were both courting her and Temujin seemed content to let them settle it between themselves. Eluin had bloomed under the attention. Hoelun watched as she broke the news of her sister’s death, her voice too low to be heard. Her father sat down heavily on a log by the door of their ger, bowing his head.

      For herself, Hoelun felt only sadness as she looked around the camp. Everyone she knew had grown, or passed on to the birds and spirits. It was a strangely uncomfortable experience to see the gers and decorated deels of families she had known as a girl. In her mind, it had remained the same, but the reality was a place of unknown faces.

      ‘Will you see your brother, Hoelun? Your nephew?’ Borte murmured. She stood almost entranced as they watched Eluin’s reunion. Hoelun could see a yearning in the young wife of her son. She had not mentioned a visit to her own home.

      In the distance, they heard the pounding of hooves as Temujin and his officers drilled the Olkhun’ut and Kerait in their tactics for war. They had been out since dawn and Hoelun knew her son would run them to exhaustion in the first few days. His new status did not affect the resentment many of the Kerait felt at having to fight alongside lesser families. Almost before the first evening was over, there had been two fights and one Kerait man had been gashed with a knife. Temujin had killed the victor without giving him a chance to speak. Hoelun shuddered as she pictured her son’s face. Would Yesugei ever have been so ruthless? She thought he would, if he had ever had the chance to command so many. If the shamans spoke truly about one soul being left for the land as well as one to join the sky, he would be proud of his son’s accomplishments.

      Hoelun and Borte watched as Eluin kissed her father’s face, again and again, her own tears mingling with his. At last, she stood to leave them and her mother took her head in the cradle of her shoulder, pressing her there. Borte looked away from the moment of affection, her expression unreadable.

      Hoelun had not needed to ask what had happened with the Tartars who had borne her away from her husband. It was all too clear in the way she resisted any touch, jerking back even as Hoelun reached for her arm. Hoelun’s heart went out to her for what she had suffered, but she knew better than anyone that time would dull the blade of grief. Even the memories of Bekter seemed distant, somehow; no less vivid, but robbed of their pain.

      The sun seemed chill on her skin and Hoelun found she was not enjoying the return to the Olkhun’ut as she had hoped. It was too different. She was no longer the little girl who had ridden out with her brothers and come across Yesugei. She remembered him on that day, handsome and fearless as he charged them. Enq had yelled as he took Yesugei’s arrow in the hip, putting his heels to his horse and galloping away. She had hated the strange warrior then, but how could she have known Yesugei would be a man to love? How could she have known she would stand amongst her people again as the mother of a khan?

      Through the gers, she saw an old man walking stiffly, leaning his weight on a stick. Borte gasped as she glanced at him and Hoelun guessed who he was from the way his daughter stood painfully straight, summoning her pride.

      Sholoi hobbled to them, taking in every detail of the warriors for their protection. His eyes passed over Hoelun, then snapped back in sudden recognition.

      ‘I remember you, girl,’ he said, ‘though it’s a long time ago.’

      Hoelun narrowed her eyes, trying to recall him as he might have been when she was young. A vague memory came back to her, a man who had taught her to braid harness from rope and leather. He had been ancient then, at least to her young eyes. To her surprise, she felt tears brimming.

      ‘I remember,’ she said and he grinned at her, revealing brown gums. Borte had not spoken and he nodded to his daughter, his toothless smile widening.

      ‘I hadn’t thought to see you again in these gers,’ he said.

      Borte seemed to stiffen and Hoelun wondered if she could hear the affection in her father’s gruff tone. He laughed suddenly.

      ‘Two wives to khans, two mothers to more. Yet only two women stand before me. I will win a skin or two of airag with such a fine riddle.’

      He reached out and touched the hem of Borte’s deel, rubbing two fingers together to judge the cloth.

      ‘You made the right choice, girl. I can see that. I thought there was something about that Wolf. Didn’t I tell you that?’

      ‘You said he was probably dead,’ Borte replied, her voice as cold as Hoelun had ever

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