Conqueror. Conn Iggulden

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СКАЧАТЬ go back to my tumans, my families. I will tell them it will not be this year.’ Mongke turned to Guyuk. ‘My oath is yours, my lord, I have not forgotten. But you will need more time to bring Batu back to the fold before we go on.’

      ‘I do not need more time!’ Guyuk snapped. ‘You have all promised an oath to me. Well, I call it now. Honour your word and I will deal with Batu later. One man cannot be allowed to cause chaos in the nation, no matter his bloodline or his name.’

      Seeing he was on the point of ordering them to obey him, Torogene spoke quickly before he could offend either of the powerful men in the ger.

      ‘We have all worked hard so that the oaths would be unchallenged, to make one man khan without dissent. That is no longer possible, but I have to agree with Guyuk. The nation is ready for a new khan. It has been almost five years since the death of my husband. How much new land has been taken in those years? None. The nation waits and all the time our enemies grow strong again. We have already lost too much, in influence and power. Let the oath-taking go ahead, with just one name missing from the roll. Once there is a khan, Batu can be summoned to give his oath alone, ordered by the one true authority of the nation.’

      Mongke nodded slowly, but Baidur looked away, scratching a dark sweat stain at his armpit. No one else in the ger knew that he had received a private message on the yam. If he revealed that Batu had promised to support him as khan, it would mean a death sentence for his old friend, he was almost certain. Unless Baidur threw himself into the struggle. For just that night, Guyuk, Torogene and Mongke were all at his mercy, surrounded by his warriors. He could take it all, just as Batu clearly hoped he would.

      Baidur clenched his fists for an instant, then let his hands fall loose. His father Chagatai would not have hesitated, he thought. The blood of Genghis ran in them all, but Baidur had seen too much of the pain and blood brought by ruthless ambition. He shook his head, coming to a decision.

      ‘Very well. Call the oath-taking at the new moon, four days from now. The nation must have a khan and I will honour my promises.’

      The tension in the cramped ger was almost painful as Guyuk turned to Mongke. The big man nodded, bowing his head.

      Guyuk could not resist smiling in relief. Apart from those in the ger and Batu himself, there was no one else who might challenge him. After so many years of waiting, he was in reach of his father’s titles at last. His mother’s voice barely registered with him, some weak promise that Batu could be brought to the city when the nation had spoken. He wondered if they truly believed he would welcome Batu as a friend after all this. Perhaps his mother expected him to act the great lord, to show mercy to those who had tried and failed to ruin him.

      The tension vanished in laughter and Baidur brought out a skin of airag and a set of cups. Mongke clapped him on the back in congratulation and Guyuk chuckled, giddy at the sudden change in his fortunes. Batu had almost destroyed years of work, but whatever he had intended, it had failed. Guyuk raised a toast with the others, enjoying the bite of the cold spirit in his throat. There would be a reckoning with Batu. That was one oath he could swear with certainty in the silence of his thoughts.

      By the first light of dawn, the nation was ready. They had spent many weeks preparing for the oath-taking, from gathering vast quantities of food and drink to mending, patching and polishing every item of clothing and armour they possessed. The warriors were arrayed in perfect squares, standing in silence as the gates of Karakorum opened. There was no sign of the rush and panic from four days before. Guyuk rode out at the head of a column, sitting his mount with dignity. He wore a deel robe of grey and dark blue, deliberately choosing simplicity over anything gaudy or foreign.

      There had been so few gatherings since the first one called by Genghis that there were hardly any traditions to follow. A great pavilion had been erected in front of the city, and as the sun cleared the eastern hills, Guyuk dismounted there and passed his reins to a servant. He walked to his place and stood in front of the silk tent as the first group approached him. Unless his bladder filled to bursting, he would not enter the pavilion that day, nor would he sit, no matter how hot the sun became. The nation had to see him become khan.

      Baidur and Mongke were conspicuous in that first group, as well as Sorhatani, Kublai and her other sons. The first four hundred contained the heads of all the major families, for once deprived of their retainers, servants and slaves. Most of them were dressed in colourful silks, or the plainest armour, depending on their sense of occasion. Even the banners of rank were denied to them. They would approach Guyuk in simple humility, to bend the knee and give their oaths.

      Even within that group there was a hierarchy. Torogene came first, then Sorhatani. The two women had ruled the nation alone, keeping it intact through the death of Ogedai Khan. Guyuk saw only satisfaction in his mother’s face as she knelt to him. He barely let her touch the ground before he raised her up and embraced her.

      He was not so quick with Sorhatani. Though her oath sealed her loyalty, he had never been comfortable with the woman who controlled the homeland. In time, he thought he would grant her titles to Mongke, as his father should have done. She had survived, so she had luck, but women were too fickle, too likely to make some grievous error. Mongke would never jump without thinking, Guyuk was certain. He watched in pleasure as Mongke came next and repeated the oath he had given in a far land, the first stone falling that brought them all to that spot.

      Kublai followed and Guyuk was struck by the keen intelligence in the younger man’s eyes as he knelt and spoke the words of gers, horses, salt and blood. He too would need some position of authority in time. Guyuk began to revel in such decisions, able at last to think as a khan, rather than just dream.

      The day wore on, a parade of faces until he could hardly distinguish between them. Thousands came to the pavilion: heads of families, rulers of lands thousands of miles apart. Some of them already showed signs of intermarriage, so that the eldest children of Chulgetei had the features of Koryo. Guyuk formed an idea of ordering them to breed true, keeping the Mongol stock pure before it was swallowed in the flood of subject races. The mere thought of exercising such power was like airag in his blood, making his heart pound. After this day, his word would be law for a million people – and millions more under their rule. The nation had grown beyond anything Genghis might once have imagined.

      As evening came, Guyuk toured the great camps. There was no single moment when he became khan to universal acclamation. Instead, he rode from place to place, allowing thousands of his people to kneel and chant their oaths. He had warriors ready to strike down anyone who refused, but nothing came of his worries as the light began to fade and torches were lit. He took food and returned to the palace for a time to change clothes and relieve his bowels and aching bladder. Before dawn, he was out again, travelling to the very least of those he would rule: the tanner families and a host of workers from many nations. They cried out in awe at their only chance to see the face of the khan, straining in the dawn light for a single glimpse they would remember for ever.

      As the sun rose again, Guyuk felt suffused in its light, lifted by it and made mellow. He was khan and the nation was already settling down to the days of feasting that would follow. Even the thought of Batu in his Russian fiefdom had become a distant irritant. This was Guyuk’s day. The nation was his at last. He thought of the celebrations that would follow with growing excitement. The palace would be the centre of it: a new generation of youth, tall and beautiful, blowing away the ashes of the past.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      Torogene lowered herself onto the bench in the garden pavilion, feeling her husband’s spirit all around her. The summer had lasted a long time, so that the СКАЧАТЬ