Читать книгу Conqueror - Conn Iggulden - Страница 13

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 city sweltered. For months, the rare heat had built to storms, then been released into a day or two of sweet coolness before it dried out and the process began again. The air itself was heavy at such times, thick with the promise of rain. Dogs lay panting on the street corners and each dawn found a body or two to be cleared away, or a woman weeping. Torogene already missed the powers she had known. Before Guyuk was khan, she could have sent the Day Guards to beat a confession from a dozen witnesses, or to evict a family of thieves, dumping them all on the roads outside the city. Overnight, they were no longer hers to command and she could only petition her son alongside a thousand others.

As she sat among the drifts of leaves, Torogene searched for some feeling of peace, but could not find it, even in Sorhatani’s company.

‘You cannot tell me you are happy to be leaving the city,’ Sorhatani said.

Torogene patted the bench beside her, but her friend did not want to sit down.

‘No young khan should have his mother watching every move, every mistake. The old must apparently make way for the new.’ Torogene spoke the words reluctantly, echoing Guyuk’s pompous speech to her just that morning. ‘I have a fine palace, built for me by Ogedai. I will be comfortable in my retirement. And I am old. I can hardly believe how weary I feel on some days.’

‘He’s getting rid of you,’ Sorhatani said. She picked up a slender branch from the path. It must have fallen just that morning or the Chin gardeners would already have cleared it away. It flexed in her hands like a whip. ‘A son should honour what you achieved, keeping the nation together when it threatened to fly apart.’

‘Even so, he is khan. I worked years for it. Should I complain now that I have my desire? What sort of a fool would I be then?’

‘A mother,’ Sorhatani said. ‘We are all fools with our sons. We wipe them and suckle them and all we expect is for them to be grateful to the end of their days.’

She chuckled, her mood turning in an instant. Torogene smiled with her, though in truth she had been hurt by her son’s commands.

‘He has not threatened to send you away, Sorhatani,’ she said.

‘No, because he still lavishes his attention on Mongke. Orlok of the armies. It is more than my son even wanted. I swear we never planned for that, never.’

‘I know. Guyuk took my advice once, at least. Mongke has the bloodline from Genghis and the tumans will follow him. My son trusts him completely, Sorhatani. That is important.’

Sorhatani kept her silence. It was true Mongke had risen in Guyuk’s first season as khan, just as she had predicted. Kublai, though, would never lead armies under Guyuk. Something in the two men brought out the worst in each of them. Twice she had sent Kublai away on some errand before he ruined himself in Guyuk’s presence. They angered each other like two cats and neither she nor Kublai could explain it satisfactorily. There were times when she wished Guyuk would send her back to the homeland, away from the heat and smells and crowds of the city, away from the politics that ruined every peaceful day. Even in that, she had her suspicions. She did not think Guyuk valued her as an adviser and one memory of his father still troubled her. Years before, Ogedai had asked her to marry his son. The idea could still make her shudder. Ogedai had been too good a man to force her, but Guyuk would have no qualms of that sort. As things stood, the original homeland of Genghis would pass to Mongke on her death, or perhaps one of her other sons if she wrote a will and it was honoured. She could only hope that Guyuk was content to rule the separate khanates. Yet he did not seem to have that sort of vision. In fact, he struck her as exactly the sort of greedy fool who would try to take it all for himself. It was heart-breaking to see such a handsome young man with so many shadows inside him. Power brought out the best in some men, but Guyuk showed no sign of such growth.

It was one more thing she could not discuss with Torogene. The woman still mourned a husband and had set her son to rule the nation. It was not Sorhatani’s place to lay his weaknesses in front of her. Just a week before, Guyuk had refused to see a delegation of princes from Koryo, preferring instead to go hunting with his companions. Sorhatani frowned unconsciously as she recalled the tense meeting with the Koryon men. She had tried to ease the insult of his absence with words and gifts, but she could see their anger in the silent looks between them. When Guyuk had returned days later, he had sent his chancellor, Yao Shu, to hear their requests. She could have done that herself if Guyuk allowed her any authority.

The memory brought angry colour to her cheeks. For once, she had ignored his blustering servants, forcing her way into his presence. She had hoped she could make him see that his life could not be one long feast or endless hunting with his friends. A khan had to rule day by day, to make the decisions they could not make without him.

There had been no contrition in Guyuk when she told him. Instead, he had laughed at her, sending her away in a manner calculated to insult. That, too, she would not mention to Torogene, not just as the woman was leaving, her life’s work done. Sorhatani realised she would miss her friend, but there had always been subjects she dared not raise.

If Sorhatani hadn’t had Kublai, she thought she would have gone mad, surrounded by a nest of fools and lies and alliances. At least her son would listen. He drank up new information, possessing an insight that could still astonish her. Kublai seemed to know everything that went on in the city, until she suspected him of having a ring of spies as accomplished as her own. Yet even Kublai had been troubled in recent days. Guyuk was planning something and orders flowed between the palace and his tumans. His warriors were exercising on the plains each day, practising with cannon until the whole city stank of gunpowder. Sorhatani had a man willing to read the messages on the yam, but they were often sealed. He would open them if she demanded it, but it would mean his life and she would not throw him away lightly. The very fact that something was secret should have told her much, but she felt as if she wandered through fog. Kublai might have learned something, she thought, or at least be better able to guess. She resolved to speak to him that evening.

She and Torogene looked up as they heard the footsteps of Guyuk’s Day Guards. Torogene rose with a sigh, looking into the distance as if she could carry the memory of the city with her. As the Guards stood impassively, she and Sorhatani embraced. Carts, horses and servants waited to take her to the distant palace on the Orkhon river. Summer itself was passing and Sorhatani did not think her friend would be allowed to return. Guyuk had not been able to hide his pleasure at the orders, for all he couched them in fine words and compliments.

‘I will visit you,’ Sorhatani said, struggling with emotion. She could not promise to keep Torogene informed, not with men listening who would report every word said between them. Torogene smiled, though her eyes were shining with tears. She had raised her son to be khan and her reward was exile, no matter what Guyuk called it. Lies and alliances, it was all the city seemed to breed from its arid stones. Sorhatani watched Torogene walk away with the men, a frail, stooped figure against their youth and strength. Sorhatani was suddenly afraid that one of her own protectors had been removed. For all his hunts and debauchery, Guyuk was intent on consolidating his power. She could not find peace when she thought of the future. She could not even return to the homeland, unless Guyuk gave his permission. It was as if she slept with a hungry tiger in the same room, never knowing when it might leap and tear her apart.

In the distance, she heard the crack of cannons firing and she started slightly. Mongke would be out there on the field, supervising his men as they practised the skills of war. Sorhatani sent a silent prayer for her sons to be safe under this new khan.

Guyuk strode through the empty corridors. He knew he was terrifying the palace servants with his order that they stay out of his sight. Days before, he had stumbled over one young woman too slow to get out of his way. He had snapped the command without thinking. They were too used to stately progress: the pace of older men and particularly his father. He had intended to let his new orders stand for just a few days until they had learned to jump when he appeared. Instead, he had found it gave him great amusement to see men and women scurrying away at every turn, convinced their lives were at stake if he so much as glimpsed them.

He increased his pace, grinning as servants darted into side rooms far ahead, word passing quickly that the khan was on the prowl. Without pausing, he pushed open the copper doors and entered his audience room.

Sorhatani was there, as well as Yao Shu, his father’s old chancellor. A dozen others waited their turn and tried not to show that they had been in that room for half a day before the khan bothered to show himself. Guyuk ignored them all and walked across the stone floor to a gilded chair, set with stones of lapis lazuli so that it glittered in the light from the windows. At least the air was freshened by a breeze from outside. He had become accustomed to Chin habits of bathing and the stink of unwashed flesh could make him retch in close rooms.

Sorhatani studied every detail of the entrance he had made, controlling her expression carefully. She could have spoken first, but she and Yao Shu had agreed an order in the hours of waiting. Again, she felt the sting of insult, as if she had no other work than to wait on Guyuk while he played games with servants. None of that could be allowed to show. She had to remember his word was law, that he could take her lands or her life at the first sign of anger in her face. Perhaps it was better that Yao Shu should open the proceedings. The old man had perfected his court manner and it was rare that she could see the emotions beneath it.

‘My lord khan,’ Yao Shu began, approaching Guyuk and bowing deeply. He held a sheaf of parchments and Guyuk eyed them with distaste. ‘There are a great number of things that only the khan can decide.’ Guyuk looked as if he might respond, but Yao Shu went straight on before he could speak. ‘The governor of eastern Koryo requests a tuman be sent to repel the sea thieves who are raiding his coast. This is the third time he has sent emissaries to Karakorum.’ Yao Shu paused for breath, but Guyuk only settled himself more comfortably in the seat.

‘Go on, Yao Shu, what else?’ Guyuk asked pleasantly.

‘We have tumans in the Chin territories, my lord. Shall I send word on the yam that they can go to his aid?’

Guyuk waved a hand. ‘Very well, send two. What else?’

Yao Shu blinked to find Guyuk in this odd mood. He went on quickly, determined to take advantage while he could.

‘The … um, Xi Xia governor claims that taxes have been set too high for his region. There has been a plague in the countryside there and he has lost perhaps half of those who work the fields. He asks for a year without taxes to rebuild.’

‘No, he is my vassal.’

‘My lord, if we could make a gesture, he would be a stronger ally in the future.’

‘And have every small man crying at my doors as a result. I have said no, chancellor. Move on to the next.’

Yao Shu nodded, shuffling his papers quickly.

‘I have more than eighty requests for marriage here, my lord.’

‘Put them aside. I will read them in my chambers. Are there any of special note?’

‘No, my lord,’ Yao Shu replied.

‘Then go on.’

Yao Shu was growing flustered, Sorhatani could see. In the past, Guyuk had been lazy, barely able to mask his impatience while his councillors talked. Making decisions at this speed was so unlike him that she could only wonder at what he was trying to demonstrate to them. Distaste for Guyuk made her stomach clench. His father would not have ignored word of a plague in his lands so easily, as if the thousands of dead did not matter at all, as if it could not spread. She listened to Yao Shu talk of the need for shipbuilding and the sneering tone as Guyuk refused to spend the funds needed. Yet they had a coast in Chin lands and there were nations outside it that rode the waves with skills the Mongols could hardly imagine.

Yao Shu covered dozens of topics and received quick answers each time. Sorhatani groaned to herself at some of them, but at least it was better than the stagnation of previous days. The world would not stand still while Guyuk hunted with his pretty birds. The light changed outside and Guyuk had food and drink brought for himself, though he ignored the needs of those others present. At last, after hours, Yao Shu stepped back and she was free to speak.

As Sorhatani came forward, she saw Guyuk suppress a yawn.

‘I think that is enough for the day,’ he said. ‘You will be first tomorrow, Sorhatani.’

‘My lord,’ she said, aghast as a ripple of discontent spread through the crowded room. There were others there that he could not afford to ignore, important men who had travelled far to see him. She steeled herself to go on. ‘My lord, the day is still young. Can you at least say whether Batu has replied to his summons? Is he coming to Karakorum, lord, to take the oath?’

Guyuk paused in the act of leaving to turn back to her.

‘That is not the business of my councillors, Sorhatani,’ he said in a reproving tone. ‘I have that in hand.’ His smile was unpleasant and Sorhatani wondered for the first time if he had sent the order to Batu at all.

‘Go on with your work,’ Guyuk called over his shoulder as he reached the doors. ‘The nation does not sleep.’

At dawn the following morning, Sorhatani was woken by her servants. She still had her suite of rooms in the palace, given to her when she aided Torogene through the crisis years that followed Ogedai’s death. Guyuk had not yet had the nerve to take those from her, though she thought it would come in time as he consolidated his power. She sat up straight in bed as her chamberlain knocked at the door, his head bowed low so that he would not catch a glimpse of his mistress. No one in the nation slept naked, but Sorhatani had fallen into the Chin habit of wearing just the lightest of silk robes to bed and there had been embarrassing scenes before her servants learned her ways.

She knew something was wrong as soon as she saw the man standing there rather than one of the young women who helped her to bathe and dress each morning.

‘What is it?’ she said sleepily.

‘Your son Kublai, mistress. He says he must speak with you. I told him to come back when you are dressed, but he would not leave.’

Sorhatani stifled a smile at the man’s poorly concealed irritation. Kublai could have that effect on people. Only the presence of her personal guards could have prevented him from storming in.

She pulled on a heavier robe, tying it around her waist as she padded out into a room lit by the soft grey of dawn. Sorhatani shivered as she saw Kublai there, dressed in dark blue silk. He looked up as she entered and glanced out of the window at the rising sun.

‘At last, mother!’ he said, though he smiled to see her tousled and still sleepy. ‘The khan is taking the tumans away from the city.’

He gestured to the window and Sorhatani followed him, staring out over the plains. Her rooms were high enough to see far and she could make out the dark masses of horsemen riding in formation. She thought of the way cloud shadows slipped across the land in summer, but her mouth tightened and her thoughts cleared suddenly.

‘Did Guyuk tell you he was taking them out?’ Kublai asked.

His mother shook her head, though it hurt to admit she had not been taken into his confidence.

‘That is … odd,’ Kublai said, his voice soft.

Sorhatani met his eyes and, with a gesture, sent her servants away to make fresh tea. Together, they watched them leave and Kublai relaxed subtly when they were alone.

‘If he is making some display of power, or even just training them, I think you would have been told,’ Kublai went on. ‘He knows half the city will be tumbling out of warm beds to watch them go. There is no way to move the army in secret. Guyuk knows that.’

‘Tell me then, what is he doing?’

‘The word is he will head west to test the new men, to bind them to him in the mountains with hard marches and endurance. The market traders have all heard the same thing, which makes me suspicious. It feels like a story someone has planted, a good one.’

Sorhatani held back her impatience as her son thought through all the possibilities before fixing on one. She knew him well enough to be sure of his judgement.

‘Batu,’ he said at last. ‘It has to be him. A quick strike to remove the one man who has not taken the oath to the khan.’

Sorhatani closed her eyes for a moment. They were still alone, but there were always ears to hear and she stepped very close to her son, dropping her voice to just a breath.

‘I could warn him,’ she whispered.

Kublai drew back from her, searching her eyes.

‘You would risk all our lives,’ he said, dropping his head to hers as if he comforted his mother. Even a secret watcher could not have been sure they spoke together as he muttered into her hair, breathing its scent.

‘Shall I do nothing and see your cousin killed?’ she replied.

‘If it is the khan’s will, what choice do you have?’

‘I cannot stand by and watch without giving him a chance to run. The yam riders can outpace the army.’

Kublai shook his head. ‘That would be dangerous. The riders would remember carrying the message. If Batu escapes, Guyuk would hunt back down the chain until he reached you. I cannot allow you to do that, mother.’

‘I can have some servant take the message to the stables in the city.’

‘Who would you trust when the khan comes in fury, looking for the source? Servants can be bought or broken until they talk.’ He paused for a time, his eyes far away. ‘It could be done, by a rider willing to use yam horses who is yet not one of them. Nothing else would have the speed to warn Batu in time. If you are sure that is what you want to do.’

‘He should have been khan, Kublai,’ she said.

He gripped her arms, almost painfully. ‘Mother, you must not say that, even to me. The palace is no longer a safe place.’

‘Exactly, Kublai. There are spies everywhere now. Just a year ago, I did not have to watch my words in case some perfumed courtier ran to his master to whisper in his ear. The khan sent Torogene away. I will not last long now, with his eye on me. Let me thwart him in this, my son. Make it happen.’

‘I will take the message,’ he said. ‘Then there will be no papers, no record.’

He had expected her to argue, but she understood there was no one else and nodded, stepping back from him. Her eyes were full of pride as she raised her voice to a normal level.

‘Very well, Kublai. Go out to the plain and watch them go. Tell me everything when you come back this evening. I want to hear it all.’ A listener would have heard nothing to alarm him, though both of them knew he would not return.

‘Mongke will be with the khan,’ he said. ‘How I envy him.’

‘He is the khan’s orlok, his most loyal follower,’ she replied. The warning did not have to be spoken. Mongke could never know they had moved to save Batu. The older brother could not be trusted with such a secret.