Bones of the Hills. Conn Iggulden

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      The monk’s face softened at her tone and he reached out to pat her on her shoulder.

      ‘It has been a difficult day, princess. Ignore what I have said. Tomorrow, I will be a different man, with the past gone and the future unknown, as always. I am sorry to have brought my anger here.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘At times, I think I am a bad Buddhist, but I would not be anywhere else.’

      Chakahai smiled at him, nodding. Ho Sa refilled his own cup with the precious tea, deep in thought. When he spoke, his voice was very low and hard to hear.

      ‘If Genghis falls in battle, it will be Kachiun who is khan. He has sons of his own and all of this would be like leaves in the wind.’

      Chakahai tilted her head to listen. She was beautiful in the lamplight, making Ho Sa think again that the khan was a lucky man to have such a woman waiting in his gers.

      ‘If my husband named an heir from among his sons, I think Kachiun would honour it.’

      ‘If you push him to it, he will name Chagatai,’ Ho Sa said. ‘The whole camp knows he does not favour Jochi, while Ogedai and Tolui are still too young.’ He paused, suspecting that Genghis would not be pleased to have other men talking to his wife on such a subject. Still, he was curious. ‘Have you spoken to the khan about it?’

      ‘Not yet,’ Chakahai replied. ‘But you are right. I do not want Kachiun’s sons to inherit. Where would I be then? It is not so long since the tribes abandoned the families of dead khans.’

      ‘Genghis knows that better than anyone,’ Ho Sa said. ‘He would not want you to suffer as his mother suffered.’

      Chakahai nodded. It was such a pleasure to be able to speak openly in her own language, so far from the guttural breathiness of Mongol speech. She realised she would rather go back to her father than see Chagatai become khan as things stood, yet Ho Sa spoke the truth. Kachiun had his own wives and children. Would any of them treat her with kindness if her husband fell? Kachiun would give her honour, perhaps even send her back to the Xi Xia king. Yet there would always be some who looked to the old khan’s wives and sons for a figurehead. Kachiun would be safest in having them all killed on the same day his brother fell in battle. She bit her lip as she thought it through, disturbed to have such dark thoughts come to her ger. Genghis would not accept Jochi, she was almost certain. He had been laid up to heal for more than a month and a leader needed to be seen by his men if he were not to be forgotten. Even then, she did not know him, only that Chagatai would be a poor choice. Her children would not long survive his rise, she was certain. She wondered if she had the skill to bring Chagatai to her side.

      ‘I will think about it,’ she told the two men. ‘We will find the right path through.’

      Outside the ger, they could hear the wind moaning through the carts and homes of the Mongol nation. Both men heard the sadness in Chakahai’s voice as she dismissed them back to their posts to sleep.

      As Yao Shu stepped out into the wind and snow, he shivered, pulling his deel close around his shoulders. It was not just the cold, which he hardly noticed after so many years wearing just a thin robe. At times, he felt he had taken a wrong turn in coming among the people of the horse. He liked them, for all their childlike arrogance and belief that they could order the world to suit them. The khan was a man to follow and Yao Shu had been impressed by him. Yet he had failed to find the right ears for the words of the Buddha. Only little Tolui seemed open to them and then only because he was so young. Chagatai laughed coarsely at any philosophy that did not involve grinding enemies under his heels and Jochi seemed to listen with detached interest, letting the words and ideas flow over him without sinking in.

      Yao Shu was lost in thought as he walked the snowy paths through the camp. Even then, he remained aware of his surroundings and he knew the men were there as soon as they began to surround him. He sighed to himself. There was only one foolish boy who would have sent warriors to attack him that night. Yao Shu had not even brought his practice stick to the ger of Chakahai, believing himself safe.

      Still, he was not a child to be ambushed by fools. He wondered if Chagatai had told them to kill him, or just break a few bones. It did not matter: his response would be the same. As the snow swirled, Yao Shu darted between two gers and attacked the first dark shape to loom up before him. The man was too slow and Yao Shu dropped him neatly with a strike to the chin while he blocked the back foot with his own. He did not intend to kill in that mountain pass, but he heard other voices answer the sound and knew there were many of them. Footsteps pattered lightly from all directions and Yao Shu controlled the growing anger in his chest. It was unlikely that he knew the men, or they him. There would be no malice in the assault, unless he killed one of them. He shrugged to himself, thinking again that time amongst the tribes had changed him subtly. The Buddha would have let them come in without raising a hand in anger. Yao Shu shrugged as he padded towards another shadow. At least he was no longer cold.

      ‘Where is he?’ a man hissed, only a pace away.

      Yao Shu stepped in behind him, pushing the man down before he could resist and slipping past. The warrior’s surprised yell echoed back from the high hills and Yao Shu heard other men closing fast.

      The first to reach him was met with an explosive punch into the lower ribs. Yao Shu felt them break under his hand and drew back before he jammed the shards into vital organs. He ducked on instinct as something else moved, but in the whiteness he had not seen two warriors and one of them tackled him around the waist, throwing him to the hard ground.

      Yao Shu kicked out and his foot jarred against something solid, hurting him. He came to his feet as a ring of men closed and looked around at the unsmiling faces. It distressed him to see three of them were from his own training group. They at least would not meet his eyes. The others were strangers carrying heavy sticks.

      ‘We have you now, monk,’ one of them growled.

      Yao Shu readied himself, dropping slightly on bent legs so that he was in perfect balance. He could not defeat so many, but he was once again ready to teach.

      Eight men fell into the centre of the circle and Yao Shu almost slipped between two and was away. By chance, one of them snagged his robe. Yao Shu felt fingers slip over the skin of his skull and he brought his head back sharply. The hard fingers vanished and the monk struck out with his right foot. Another man fell back with a cry, his knee shattered, but by then they had struck him many times and Yao Shu was dazed. He still hammered blows with hands, knees and head wherever he could, but they knocked him down. The heavy sticks rose and fell with mindless anger. He did not cry out, even when one of them stamped on his right foot and broke the small bones.

      Before he lost consciousness, Yao Shu thought he heard Kachiun’s voice shouting and felt the hands on him falling away. The words of his own teachers spiralled in his mind then as he collapsed in the snow. They had told him that holding on to anger was like grasping a hot coal. Only he would be burned by it. Yet as the men scattered and he felt strong arms lift him up, Yao Shu held the hot coal closely and felt only warmth.

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      Yao Shu looked up as Kachiun came into the ger where the wounded were treated. By day, sick men and women travelled on the carts, well wrapped in furs. There were always some who needed a poisoned toe lanced or a wound bound. Yao Shu knew three of the men with him. They were the ones he had injured himself. He had not spoken to them and they seemed embarrassed by his silence and would СКАЧАТЬ