Conqueror. Conn IgguldenЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Batu whistled as he trotted across a green field towards the small ger in the crook of hills. As he rode, he kept his eyes moving, looking for watchers or scouts. He had not announced his visit to the homeland of the Mongol people and he could name a few who would have been very interested in his presence there. Sorhatani had inherited the birthplace of Genghis Khan from her husband years before. She had brought tumans back to the open plains, tens of thousands of families who wanted nothing more than to live as they always had, in the shadow of mountains, on the open land.

      There was nothing to excite suspicion around Tsubodai’s ger. The old man had retired without any of the trappings of power, rejecting all the honours Torogene had tried to press on him. Batu was pleased just to find him, though the retired orlok did not move around as much as some. He had brought no great herd that had to find new grass every few months. As Batu drew closer, he could see just a few dozen sheep and goats, untethered and untroubled as they cropped the grass. Tsubodai had chosen a good spot by a stream bed, on what looked like an ancient flood plain, made smooth and flat by the passage of millennia. The sun was shining and Batu found himself admiring the man yet again. Tsubodai had commanded the greatest army of the nation, more than a hundred thousand warriors who had fought their way to the northern hills of Italy. If the khan had not died and brought them home, Batu thought they would have made an empire from sea to sea. He grimaced at the memories, ashamed that he had enjoyed the old man’s failure once. That was when Batu had thought his generation could put aside the petty politics and bickering that marred the world he knew.

      Batu kept up his slow approach, knowing it would not be a good idea to surprise Tsubodai. They were not exactly friends, though his respect had only grown in the years since the Great Trek. Even so, Batu needed the advice of one who was no longer part of games of power, one whose word he could trust.

      Still at a distance, Batu heard a dog barking. His heart sank as an enormous black hound came out from behind the ger and paused, raising its head. Batu yelled ‘Nokhoi Khor!’ for someone to hold the beast, but there was no sign of Tsubodai or his wife. The dog sniffed the air, turning its head back and forth. It was looking at him over the field, then it growled and broke into a run, skimming through the grass. Its face flopped as it charged, so that he could see white teeth and eyes. As it approached, his hand dropped to his bow, but he did not take it up. His chances of a friendly welcome would dwindle somewhat if he shot Tsubodai’s dog.

      His pony skittered to one side and Batu shouted madly at the hound, trying different words of command. The enormous animal kept coming and he was forced to dig his heels in and canter around in a great circle, with the dog following him. He could see white froth on its mouth as it gnashed and howled at him, no longer silent as it saw him escaping.

      Out of the corner of his eye, Batu saw a woman come out of the ger. She seemed amused at his predicament and bent double as she laughed. All he could do was ride in circles, avoiding the snapping jaws.

      ‘Nokhoi Khor!’ he called again to her and she stood up, looking at him with her head cocked to one side. After a while she shrugged and put her hand to her mouth to whistle two sharp blasts. The dog dropped to the grass at the sound, his dark eyes still focused on the horseman who had dared to enter his territory.

      ‘Stay,’ Batu said to the animal, giving it a wide berth. He had never seen a dog the size of that one and he wondered where Tsubodai had found it. It watched him all the way in and Batu was very aware of it as he dismounted slowly, with no sudden movements.

      ‘I am looking for Orlok Tsubodai,’ Batu said.

      He could hear a low growl at his back and it was hard not to glance over his shoulder. A smile twitched at the woman’s mouth as she regarded him.

      ‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to see you, nameless one,’ she replied cheerfully.

      Batu flushed. ‘He knows me well. I was with him in the west. My name is Batu, son to Jochi.’

      A shadow passed over her face at that name, as if she had heard it many times. She looked deeply into his eyes, searching for something.

      ‘I wouldn’t touch a weapon if I were you. The dog will rip your throat out.’

      ‘I’m not here for revenge,’ Batu said. ‘I made my peace a long time ago.’

      ‘I’m glad one of you has,’ she said.

      Her eyes flickered behind him and Batu turned, convinced the hound was creeping up on him. Instead, he saw Tsubodai leading a horse on foot, coming out of a straggling stand of trees not far away. Batu was surprised by the feeling of relief that swept over him. Once, he had hated the man, but then in those days he had hated many. In time, he had learned to respect him. Batu did not examine his own feelings in too much detail, but in many ways he thought of Tsubodai as a father. It was not something he had ever said. Simply to see Tsubodai alive and apparently well was a ray of light in his current mood. Nothing seemed as hard if you had Tsubodai on your side. If that was true, of course. Batu was still not at all certain how he would be received.

      Those thoughts passed quickly through his mind as Tsubodai came closer. The old man whistled to his dog and Batu watched as the savage animal rose and ran to him, suddenly puppyish in its enthusiasm, so that it wagged its entire body rather than just its stump of a tail. Tsubodai walked with one hand loosely wrapped in a rein and the other reaching out to ruffle the dog’s great head. He was not smiling as he looked from Batu to his wife.

      ‘Have you offered him tea?’

      ‘Not yet,’ his wife said. ‘I thought I’d leave it up to you.’

      ‘Good. Be on your way then, Batu. I have nothing to say to you.’

      Batu waited, but as far as Tsubodai was concerned, the conversation was clearly at an end. Tsubodai walked past him, clicking his tongue to keep the dog close.

      ‘I came a very long way to see you, orlok,’ Batu said.

      ‘I’ve left titles like that behind me,’ Tsubodai shot over his shoulder. ‘I am retired.’

      ‘I’m not here to ask you to lead, old man, just to ask for your advice.’

      Tsubodai paused in the action of ducking down through his ger door. ‘Goodbye,’ he said without looking up.

      Batu watched in frustration as Tsubodai vanished into the gloomy interior, taking his dog with him. Batu turned helplessly to face Tsubodai’s wife, still standing there with the same wry smile. Her child-bearing years were surely behind her, but she looked vaguely maternal as her gaze swept over the disappointed young man.

      ‘I don’t like to see a visitor turned away with nothing,’ she said. ‘Will you take salt tea?’

      Batu heard a grunt of irritation from inside the ger. The walls were thin enough for Tsubodai to hear every word.

      ‘It would be an honour,’ Batu replied.

      He was still there as the evening came in. Tsubodai didn’t seem too troubled by his presence. The old man had contented himself with a silent glare, repairing a