Читать книгу Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection - Conn Iggulden - Страница 53

The fort at the border of Chin lands was a massive construction of wood and stone. The few men of the Kerait who had come with their khan into exile looked nervous as they approached. They had seen nothing like the huge building, with its wings and courtyards. The entrance was a great gate of wood studded with iron into which a smaller door had been set. Two guards stood there, dressed in armour very like that worn by Wen Chao’s men. They resembled statues in the morning sun, polished and perfect.

Togrul glanced up at the high walls, seeing more armed soldiers watching them. The border itself was no more than a simple track. On the journey, Wen Chao had boasted of a great wall across thousands of miles, but that was far to the south. He had made straight for the fort as soon as they sighted it, knowing that to do otherwise was to invite a quick death. The Chin lords did not welcome men who crept into their territory. Togrul felt out of his depth and in awe of the tallest building he had ever seen. He could not hide his excitement as Wen Chao’s litter was placed on the ground and the ambassador stepped out.

‘Wait here. I have papers I must show to them before we can pass,’ Wen Chao said. He too seemed animated, with his homeland in view. It would not be long before he was back in the heart of Kaifeng and little Zhang would have to grind his teeth in private over his success.

Togrul stepped down from the cart, watching closely as Wen Chao approached the guards and spoke to them. They glanced back at the party of Mongols, soldiers and slaves, but one of them bowed and opened the small door in the gate, vanishing inside. Wen Chao showed no impatience as he waited. He had survived years away from comfort, after all.

Yuan watched in silence as the commander of the fort came out and examined Wen Chao’s papers. He could not hear what was said and he ignored the questioning glances Togrul sent his way. He too was tired of the tribesmen, and the sight of Chin lands reminded him of his family and friends.

At last, the commander seemed satisfied. He passed back the papers and Wen spoke to him again, as to a subordinate. The authority from the first minister demanded instant obedience and the guards stood as stiffly as if they were being inspected. Yuan saw the door open again and the commander stepped inside it, taking his soldiers with him. Wen hesitated before following and turned to the watching group. His gaze found Yuan and rested there, troubled. He spoke in the Chin dialect of the court, in the most formal style.

‘These men will not be allowed to enter, Yuan. Should I leave you with them?’

Yuan narrowed his eyes and Togrul took a step forwards.

‘What did he say? What is happening?’

Wen Chao’s glance did not waver from Yuan.

‘You failed me, Yuan, when you failed to kill the khan in his tent. What value is your life to me now?’

Yuan stood very still, showing no trace of fear.

‘Tell me to stand and I will stand. Tell me to come and I will come.’

Wen Chao nodded slowly. ‘Then come to me, and live, knowing that your life was mine to take.’

Yuan crossed the distance to the door and stepped inside. Togrul watched in growing panic.

‘When do we cross over?’ his wife asked.

Togrul turned to her and when she saw the terrible fear in his expression, her face crumpled. When the Chin ambassador spoke again, it was in the language of the tribes. He hoped it would be the last time the foul sounds crossed his lips.

‘I am sorry,’ he said, turning away and passing through the door. It closed behind him.

‘What is this?’ Togrul shouted, desperately. ‘Answer me! What is happening?’ He froze at movement on the high walls of the fort. A line of men stood there and, to Togrul’s horror, he saw they were bending bows pointing down at him.

‘No! I was promised!’ Togrul roared.

Arrows spat through the air, hammering into them even as they turned in terror. Togrul fell to his knees with his arms outstretched, a dozen shafts in his flesh. His daughters screamed, the sounds cut off in thumping blows that hurt Togrul as much as his own agony. For a moment, he cursed the men who stole amongst the tribes as allies, ruling them with gold and promises. The thin grass under him was the dust of Mongol lands, filling his lungs and choking him. The anger faded and the morning was quiet once more.