Gengis: Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden
Outside, the streets were empty even of beggars. Every house was barricaded against the tribesmen who wandered through the streets, peering through gates and looking for items worth taking. Genghis had given orders to leave the city intact, but no one thought the order could include stores of rice wine. Household images of gods were in particular demand. The tribesmen reasoned that they could not have enough protection in their own gers and collected any small statue that looked suitably potent.
An honor guard of warriors waited outside at the gate, but in truth Genghis could have walked alone anywhere in the city. The only possible danger came from men he could command with a word.
Chen Yi had to struggle not to show his nervousness as Genghis strolled around the inside of his house, examining items. The khan seemed tense and Chen Yi was unsure how to begin the conversation. His guards and servants had been sent away for the meeting, and the house felt oddly empty.
“I am glad my mason could be of use to you, my lord,” Chen Yi said to break to silence. Genghis was inspecting a black lacquered pot and didn’t look up as he placed it back on its stand. He seemed too large for the room, as if at any moment he could take hold of the beams and bring the whole place crashing down. Chen Yi told himself it was just his reputation that made him seem powerful, but then Genghis turned pale yellow eyes on him and his thoughts froze.
Genghis ran a finger over the pot’s decoration of figures in a garden, then turned to his host.
“Do not fear me, Chen Yi. Ho Sa says you are a man who has made much of little, a man who has been given nothing but yet survived and become wealthy in this place.” Chen Yi glanced at Ho Sa at hearing the words, but the Xi Xia soldier showed him nothing. For once in his life, Chen Yi felt at a loss. Baotou had been promised to him, but he did not know if the khan would keep his word. He did know that when a great wind destroys a man’s home, he can only shrug and know it was fate and could not be resisted. Meeting Genghis was like that for him. The rules he had known all his life had been thrown away. At a single command from the Mongol khan, Baotou would be razed to the ground.
“I am a wealthy man,” Chen Yi agreed. Before he could continue, he felt Genghis’s eyes on him, suddenly interested. The khan picked up the lacquered pot once more and gestured with it. In his hands, it looked incredibly fragile.
“What is wealth, Chen Yi? You are a man of cities, of streets and houses. What do you value? This?”
He spoke quickly and Ho Sa bought Chen Yi time to reply by translating it. ChenYi flashed a grateful glance at the soldier.
“That pot took a thousand hours of labor to make, lord. When I look at it, it gives me pleasure.”
Genghis turned the pot in his hands. He seemed obscurely disappointed and Chen Yi glanced at Ho Sa again. The soldier raised his eyebrows, urging more.
“But it is not wealth, lord,” Chen Yi went on. “I have starved, so I know the value of food. I have been cold, so I know the value of warmth.”
Genghis shrugged. “A sheep knows as much. Do you have sons?” He knew the answer, but still he wanted to understand this man who came from a world so different from his own.
“I have three daughters, lord. My son was taken from me.”
“Then what is wealth, Chen Yi?”
Under the questions, Chen Yi became very calm. He did not know what the khan wanted, so he answered honestly.
“Revenge is wealth, lord, for me. The ability to reach out and strike down my enemies. That is wealth. Having men who will kill and die for me is wealth. My daughters and my wife are my wealth.” With great gentleness, he took the pot from Genghis’s hands, then dropped it on the wooden floor. It shattered into tiny pieces, exploding across the polished wood.
“Anything else is worthless, lord.”
Genghis grinned briefly. Khasar had spoken the truth when he said Chen Yi would not be cowed.
“I think if I had been born in a city, I might have led your life, Chen Yi. Though I would not have trusted my brothers, knowing them as I do.”
Chen Yi did not reply that he had trusted only Khasar, but Genghis seemed to guess his thoughts.
“Khasar speaks well of you. I will not go back on his word, given in my name. Baotou is yours. It is just a step on the path to Yenking for me.”
“I am glad, lord,” Chen Yi replied, almost shuddering with relief. “Will you share a cup of wine?”
Genghis nodded and a vast pressure left the room. Ho Sa relaxed visibly as Chen Yi looked around automatically for a servant and found none. Stiffly he gathered the cups himself, his sandals crunching on shards of priceless pottery that had once adorned the home of an emperor. His hand shook slightly as he poured three cups, and only then did Genghis sit down. Ho Sa took another seat, his armor creaking as he settled. He dipped his head a fraction to Chen Yi when their eyes met again, as if he had passed some sort of test.
Chen Yi knew the khan would not be taking the time to sit unless there was something he wanted. He watched the dark, flat face as Genghis accepted the cup from his hand. Chen Yi realized the khan too was ill at ease and searching for words.
“Baotou must seem small to you, lord,” Chen Yi ventured as Genghis sipped at the rice wine, pausing at a taste he had not known before.
“I have never been inside a city, except to burn it down,” Genghis replied. “Seeing one so quiet is a strange thing for me.” He emptied the cup and refilled it himself, offering the bottle to Chen Yi and then Ho Sa.
“One more, but it is potent and I want a clear head,” Chen Yi replied.
“It is horse piss,” Genghis replied with a snort, “though I like the way it warms.”
“I will have a hundred bottles sent to your camp, lord,” Chen Yi said quickly.
The Mongol leader watched him over the edge of his cup and nodded. “You are generous.”
“It is not much in return for the city of my birth,” Chen Yi said.
Genghis seemed to relax at that, leaning back on the couch. “You are a clever man, Chen Yi. Khasar told me that you ruled the city even when the soldiers were here.”
“He may have exaggerated a little, lord. My authority is strongest among the lowest castes—the dockworkers and tradesmen. The nobles live a different life and it was only rarely that I could find some way to sling reins on their power.”
Genghis grunted. He could not express the discomfort he felt sitting in such a house, surrounded by a thousand others. He could almost feel the press of humanity all around him; Khasar had been right: for one raised in the clean winds of the plains, the city smelled terrible.
“You hate them, then, these nobles?” Genghis asked. It was not a casual question and Chen Yi considered his answer carefully. The language of the tribes lacked the words he needed, so he spoke in his own tongue and let Ho Sa translate.
“Most of them live lives so distant that I do not think of them, lord. Their judges make much of enforcing the emperor’s laws, but they do not touch the nobles. If I steal, I can have my hands cut off or be whipped to death. If a noble steals from me, there will be no justice. Even if he takes a daughter or a son from me, I can do nothing.” He waited patiently for Ho Sa to finish speaking, knowing his feelings had become obvious as Genghis stared at him. “Yes, I hate them,” he said.
“There were bodies hanging from the barracks gates as I came in,” Genghis said. “Two or three dozen. Was that your work?”
“I settled old debts, lord, before you arrived.”
Genghis nodded, refilling both cups. “A man must always settle his debts. Are there many who feel as you do?”
Chen Yi smiled bitterly. “More than I can count, lord. The Chin nobles are an elite who rule many times their number. Without their army they would have nothing.”
“If you have the numbers, why do you not rise up against them?” Genghis asked in genuine curiosity.
Chen Yi sighed, once more using the Chin tongue, the words pouring out at great speed. “Bakers, masons, and boatmen do not make an army, lord.
Genghis assessed the man he faced, fascinated. He had forced the idea of a nation on the tribes, but it was not shared by men like Chen Yi, not yet. Each city might have been ruled by the Chin emperor, but they did not look to him for leadership, or feel part of his family. It was clear that the nobles took their authority from the emperor. It was also clear that Chen Yi hated them for their arrogance, wealth, and power. The knowledge could be useful.
“I have felt their gaze on my own people, Chen Yi,” he said. “We have become a nation to resist them—no, to crush them.”
“And will you then rule as they did?” Chen Yi asked, hearing the bitterness in his tone before he could stop himself. He felt a dangerous freedom in talking to the khan, he realized. The usual curbs and cautions on his tongue were flimsy protection under that yellow gaze. To his relief, Genghis chuckled.
“I have not given thought to what comes after the battles. Perhaps I will rule. Is that not the right of a conqueror?”
Chen Yi took a deep breath before replying. “To rule, yes, but will your lowest-ranking warrior walk like an emperor among those you have conquered? Will he sneer and take whatever he has not earned?”
Genghis stared at him. “The nobles are the family of the emperor? If you are asking if my family will take what they want, of course they will. The strong rule, Chen Yi. Those who are not strong dream of it.” He paused, trying to understand. “You would have me bind my people by petty rules?” he asked.
Chen Yi took another deep breath. He had spent his life with spies and falsehood, protection layered on protection against the day when the emperor’s army would root him out in fire and blood from the city. That day had not come. Instead, he found himself facing one before whom he could speak without any restraint. He would never again have such an opportunity.
“I understand what you have said, but will that right be passed on to their sons and grandsons, further? When some cruel weakling kills a boy a hundred years from now, will no one dare protest because your blood is in him?”
Genghis remained motionless. After a long time, he shook his head. “I do not know these Chin nobles, but my own sons will rule after me, if they have the strength. Perhaps in a hundred years, my descendants will still rule and be these nobles you despise.” He shrugged, draining his cup.
“Most men are like sheep,” he went on. “They are not as we are.” He waved away Chen Yi’s reply. “Do you doubt it? How many in this city can match your influence, your power, even before I came? Most cannot lead—the idea terrifies them. Yet for those like you and me, there is no greater joy than knowing there is no help coming. The decision is ours alone.” He gestured wildly with his cup, spilling some of the wine. Chen Yi broke the wax seal on another bottle and poured the wine once more.
The silence grew strained. To the surprise of both men, it was Ho Sa who broke it.
“I have sons,” he said. “I have not seen them in three years. When they are grown, they will follow me into the army. When men hear they are mine, they will expect more from them. They will rise faster than a man with no name. I am content with that. For that, I work hard and endure anything.”
“They will never be noble, those soldier sons of yours,” Chen Yi said. “A boy from the great houses would order them to their deaths in a fire just to save a pot like the one I broke tonight.”
Genghis frowned, troubled by the image. “You would make all men the same?”
Chen Yi shrugged. His thoughts swirled in wine and he didn’t know he spoke in the Chin tongue.
“I am not a fool. I know there is no law for the emperor, or his family. All law comes from him and the army he wields. He cannot be under it like other men. For the rest, though, for the thousands of parasites who feed from his hand, why should they be allowed to murder and steal without punishment?” He emptied his cup as Ho Sa translated, nodding as if the soldier spoke in agreement.
Genghis stretched his back, wishing for the first time that Temuge were there to argue the point for him. He had intended to speak to Chen Yi and understand the strange breed that lived in cities. Instead, the little man made his head swim.
“If one of my warriors wishes to marry,” Genghis said, “he finds an enemy and kills him, taking whatever he owns. He gives those horses and goats to the girl’s father. Is that murder and theft? If I forbade that, I would make them weak.” He was light-headed from the wine, but his mood was mellow and once more he filled the three cups.
“Does this warrior take from his own family, his own tribe?” Chen Yi asked.
“No. He would be a criminal, beneath contempt if he did,” Genghis replied. Even before Chen Yi spoke again, he saw where the little man was going.
“Then what of your tribes now that they are bound together?” Chen Yi said, leaning forward. “What will you do if all Chin lands are yours?”
It was a dizzying concept. It was true that Genghis had already forbidden young tribesmen to raid each other, instead providing marriage gifts from his own herd. It was not a solution he could maintain for long. What Chen Yi suggested was merely an extension of that peace, though it would encompass lands so vast it was difficult to imagine.
“I will think on it,” he said, slurring slightly. “Such thoughts are too rich to be eaten in one sitting.” He smiled. “Especially as the Chin emperor remains safe in his city and we have barely begun. Perhaps next year I will be scattered bones.”
“Or you will have broken the nobles in their forts and cities,” Chen Yi said, “and have a chance to change it all. You are a man of vision. You showed that when you spared Baotou.”
Genghis shook his head blearily. “My word is iron. When all else is lost, there is still that. But if I had not spared Baotou, it would have been another city.”
“I do not understand,” Chen Yi replied.
Genghis turned his hard gaze on him again. “The cities will not surrender if there is no benefit to them.” He raised a clenched fist and Chen Yi’s gaze was drawn to it. “Here, I have the threat of bloodshed, worse than anything they can imagine. Once I raise the red tent, they know they will lose every man within the walls. When they see the black, they know they will all die.” He shook his head. “If death is all I offer, they have no choice but to fight to the last man.” He dropped the fist and reached again for a fresh cup, which Chen Yi filled with shaking hands.
“If I spare even one city, the word will spread that they do not need to fight. They can choose to surrender when the white tent goes up. That is why I spared Baotou. That is why you still live.”
Genghis recalled his other reason for seeking the meeting with Chen Yi. His mind seemed to have lost its customary sharpness, and he thought perhaps he should not have drunk quite so much.
“Do you have maps in this city? Maps of the lands to the east?”
Chen Yi felt dazed at the insight he had been given. The man who faced him was a conqueror who would not be stopped by the feeble Chin nobles and their corrupt armies. He shivered suddenly, seeing a future filled with flames.
“There is a library,” he said, stammering slightly. “It has been forbidden to me until now. I do not think the soldiers destroyed it before they left.”
“I need maps,” Genghis replied. “Will you look over them with me? Help me plan the destruction of your emperor?”
Chen Yi had matched him drink for drink and his thoughts spun themselves to wisps in his head. He thought of his dead son, hanged by nobles who would not
“He is not my emperor, lord. Everything in this city is yours. I will do what I can. If you want scribes to write new laws, I will send them to you.”
Genghis nodded drunkenly. “Writing,” he replied, scornfully. “It traps words.”
“It makes them real, lord. It makes them last.”
The morning after his meeting with Chen Yi, Genghis awoke with a pounding headache so bad he did not leave his ger all day except to vomit. He could not remember much after the sixth bottle had been brought out, but Chen Yi’s words came back to him at intervals and he discussed them with Kachiun and Temuge. His people had only known a khan’s rule, with all justice stemming from one man’s judgment. Even as things stood, Genghis could have spent each day deciding arguments and punishing criminals in the tribes. It was already too much for him, yet he could not allow the small khans to resume their roles, or risk losing it all.
When Genghis gave the order to move on at last, it was strange to leave a city without seeing flames on the horizon behind them. Chen Yi had given him maps of Chin lands all the way to the eastern sea, more precious than anything they had won before. Though Chen Yi remained in Baotou, the mason Lian had agreed to accompany Genghis to Yenking. Lian seemed to regard the walls of the emperor’s city as a personal challenge to his skill, and he had come to Genghis to make the offer before he could be asked. His son had not beggared his business in his absence, and Genghis privately thought it was a matter of going on with the invading army or settling for a quiet retirement.
The great trek continued into Chin lands, the central mass of carts and gers moving slowly, but always surrounded by tens of thousands of horsemen looking for the slightest chance to earn the praise of their commanders. Genghis had allowed messengers to travel from Baotou to other cities on their route to the mountains west of Yenking, and the decision quickly bore fruit. The emperor had stripped the garrison from Hohhot, and without soldiers to bolster their nerve, the city surrendered without a single arrow being shot, then provided two thousand young men to be trained in the art of sieges and the pike. Chen Yi had shown the value of that with his own draft, choosing the best of his city to accompany the Mongols and learn the skills of battle. It was true that they had no horses, but Genghis gave them as infantry to Arslan and they accepted the new discipline without question.