Wolf of the Plains. Conn IgguldenЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘He was badly wounded,’ Basan answered, his voice steady. ‘As strong as he is, he made it back to the families alive, but … it has been three days. I do not know.’
‘It is almost dawn,’ Temujin replied. He fixed his gaze on the khan of the Olkhun’ut and bowed his head once again. ‘It is as you say, my lord. I must return to lead my people.’
Sansar grew very still at that, his eyes gleaming.
‘You go with my blessing, Temujin. You leave only allies here.’
‘I understand,’ Temujin replied. ‘I honour the Olkhun’ut. With your permission, I will withdraw and see to my horse. I have a long ride ahead of me.’
The khan stood and drew Temujin into a formal embrace, startling him.
‘May the spirits guide your steps,’ he said.
Temujin bowed a last time and ducked out into the darkness, Basan following.
When they had gone, the khan of the Olkhun’ut turned to his most trusted bondsmen, cracking the knuckles of one hand inside the other.
‘It should have been clean!’ he snapped. ‘Instead, the bones are flying and we don’t know where they will fall.’ He took a skin of airag from a peg and poured a thin line of the raw fluid into the back of his throat, wiping angrily at his mouth.
‘I should have known the Tartars could not even murder a man without causing chaos. I gave him to them. How could they have let him live? If he had simply disappeared, there would have been no hint of our involvement. If he lives, he will wonder how the Tartars knew to find him. There will be blood before winter. Tell me what I should do!’
The faces of the men with him were blank and worried as he looked around at them. Sansar sneered.
‘Get out and quiet the camp. There are no enemies here except the ones we have invited. Pray that the khan of Wolves is already dead.’
* * *
Temujin strode blindly through the gers, fighting for calm. What he had been told was impossible. His father was a warrior born and no two men amongst the Wolves could take him with a sword. He knew he should ask Basan for details, but he dreaded hearing them. As long as he did not speak, it might still be a lie or a mistake. He thought of his mother and his brothers and then suddenly came to a halt, making Basan stumble. He was not ready to challenge Bekter, if the news was true.
‘Where is your horse?’ he asked his father’s man.
‘Tethered on the north side of the camp,’ Basan replied. ‘I am sorry to bring such news …’
‘Come with me first. I have something to do before I leave here. Follow my orders.’ He did not look to see how Basan responded and perhaps that was why the man nodded and obeyed the young son of Yesugei.
Temujin strode through the Olkhun’ut as they scurried and recovered from the excitement. The alarms had sounded on Basan’s approach, but they had reacted in panic. Temujin sneered to himself, wondering if he would one day lead a war party to these same gers. Dawn had come at last, and as he reached the outskirts, he saw the gnarled figure of Sholoi standing at his door with a wood axe in his hands. Temujin did not hesitate, walking up to within reach of the weapon.
‘Is Borte here?’ he said.
Sholoi narrowed his eyes at the change in manner in the boy, no doubt because of the warrior who stood so grimly at his side. Sholoi raised his head stubbornly.
‘Not yet, boy. I thought she might be with you. Your brother tried the same with the girl they’d given him.’
Temujin hesitated, losing his momentum.
‘What?’
‘He took his girl early, like a couple of goats rutting. Didn’t he say? If you’ve done the same, I’ll cut your hands off, boy, and don’t think I’m worried by your daddy’s man, either. I’ve killed better with my hands alone. An axe will do you both.’
Temujin heard the slide of steel as Basan drew his sword. Before a blow could be struck, Temujin laid a hand on the warrior’s arm, stopping him with a touch.
‘I have not harmed her. She stopped me fighting Koke. That is all.’
Sholoi frowned.
‘I told her not to leave the tent, boy. That’s what matters.’
Temujin stepped closer to the old man.
‘I’ve learned more tonight than I wanted to know. Whatever the truth of it, I am not my brother. I will return for your daughter when the moon’s blood is on her. I will take her for my wife. Until then, you will not lay a hand on her again. You will make an enemy of me if she takes a single bruise from you, old man. You do not want me as an enemy. If you give me cause, the Olkhun’ut will suffer.’
Sholoi listened with a sour expression on his face, his mouth working. Temujin waited patiently for him to think it through.
‘She needs a strong man, boy, to control her.’
‘Remember that,’ Temujin said.
Sholoi nodded, watching as the two Wolves walked away, the sight of the drawn sword scattering Olkhun’ut children before them. Sholoi hefted the axe onto his shoulder and hitched up his leggings, sniffing.
‘I know you’re here, girl, creeping around,’ he said to the empty air. There was no response, but the silence became strained and he grinned to himself, revealing black gums. ‘I think you’ve found yourself a good one, if he survives. Mind you, I wouldn’t take a wager on those odds.’
Temujin heard the horns of the Wolves sound as he and Basan rode into view with the setting sun behind them. A dozen warriors galloped in perfect formation to intercept him, a spearhead of seasoned warriors well able to deal with a raiding party. He could not help comparing the instant response with the panic of the Olkhun’ut he’d left behind. It was hard to draw his mount back to a walk, but only a fool would risk being killed before he had been recognised.
He glanced at Basan, seeing a new tension there, overlaying the exhaustion. Temujin had pushed him hard to cover the distance home in only two days. Both of them had gone without sleep, surviving on water and draughts of sour yoghurt. Their time together had not begun a friendship, and as they came back into familiar territory, Temujin had sensed a growing distance between them. The warrior had been reluctant to speak, and his manner worried Temujin more than he cared to admit. It occurred to him that the arban of galloping warriors could now be enemies. He had no way of telling, and all he could do was sit tall and straight in the saddle, as his father would have wanted, while they came on.
When the warriors were within hailing distance, Basan raised his right arm, showing he did not carry a blade. Temujin recognised Eeluk amongst them and saw instantly how the others deferred to his father’s bondsman. It was he who gave the signal to halt, and something about his confidence brought Temujin close to humiliating tears. He had come home, but everything had changed. He refused to weep in front of them all, but his eyes shone.
Eeluk laid a claiming hand on Temujin’s reins. The others fell in around them and they began to trot as one, Temujin’s mount matching the pace without a command from him. It was a small thing, but Temujin felt like yanking the reins away in childish anger. He did not want to be led back to his father’s tribe like a small boy, but his wits seemed to have deserted him.
‘Your father still lives,’ Eeluk said. ‘His wound was poisoned and he has been delirious for many days.’
‘He is awake, then?’ Temujin said, hardly daring to hope.
Eeluk