Mongol! Read online

  Mongol!

  John Cleve

  I. MONGOLIA: TEMUJIN

  ONE

  The story I have to tell you is not of love, nor of peace and tranquility. Such was not in my destiny, and there was none such while my lord Genghis lived.

  My story is one of war and death, rape and torture, hard riding and hard fighting followed by lovemaking little more tender.

  I will not tell you a love story, for I have had many loves, but time for no great love. My wives are more than the fingers of my hand; my loves have been as numerous as the sheaves of grain — but I should not begin with falsehoods. Not my loves. The women I have had, I should say. Or known, or covered.

  One of them was one of my lord Genghis Khan's many wives, but this he never knew. Nor did I commit adultery with her, though she was virgin when she went to his couch.

  I am Chepi Noyan, general of the Kha-khan, the Emperor of All Men, the Conqueror, the Scourge of God, the beloved and favored son of Tengri, His name be praised.

  I have not always been Chepi, or Noyan either.

  I was born Jirgetai, of the Besut, a clan of the Taychihut tribe. My father was Targutai, a blacksmith, whose single wife died in bearing me. He did not find another woman. The Besut was not an illustrious people. Nor was my father more than an unimaginative blacksmith who knew not enough joy or happiness and had but one wagon, and that not filled.

  I wanted more.

  The prophecy at my birth indicated that I would have more.

  Thus, my body being sound and my muscles firm, I became a fighting man. I learned to loose arrows either to right or to left from the back of my pony while at full gallop — and to sink them into the target. I learned to loose arrows, too, in my wake.

  That last is not an accomplishment of which I have had much need. I have retreated only to lead the enemy into a trap.

  My father was dead and I was eighteen when the Taychihut proclaimed Jamukha their Gur-khan — against the new leader, the new Khan of the Mongols, Genghis Khan. Jamukha — who had sworn a brother's oath with Genghis Khan when he was still Temujin. Now they were deadly enemies, for Jamukha too wanted power, and opposed the setting-up of Temujin as leader of all Mongols, with the new title, "Genghis Khan."

  Those tribes that had not proclaimed him their Khan were subjected by the cat-eyed leader. But Jamukha, old friend and old enemy, swore to stop him. At a great conclave of all the Taychihut clans Jamukha was named leader: the Anti-khan.

  I had heard much of Temujin, whose father had died when the boy was but nine; who had been a fugitive, hunted down, with his mother and his brothers and sister; who had worn a slave-yoke for months before escaping, more through guile than strength; who at thirteen had collected the wife to whom he'd been betrothed at nine; who had laid claim to the favor owed his dead father by Toghril, the Ong-khan; who had collected the clans and the tribes and, eventually, had been proclaimed their emperor with an exalted title borrowed from the Khitans: Cheng-sze, "Perfect Warrior." In our language it is Genghis Khan.

  Genghis Khan.

  I admired him without ever having seen him. I respected him. But I was a Besut Taychihut, and so I was with the alliance against the new Emperor of the Mongols. And despite my ability with horse and bow, I was leader of none and follower of all, for I was far from a noble. Even then I wondered: it was said that Genghis Khan paid little attention to a man's birth. (Unless he was of his own family, of course.)

  We collected on the mountain slopes and in the dark forests and on the steppes, and we marched up the Argun Valley into Koyten, following our leaders: the Taychihut prince, the Mayman and Merkit and Oyrat chieftains - and Jamukha.

  And they, the followers of the Khan they called Genghis, were gathered to await us, between the two lakes Kolen and Buyur, where the lazy Kerulen empties into Lake Kolen.

  But night was descending and the skies threatened, and so the battle would not begin until morning. We berthed our wagons and pitched our tents and fed the horses, for tomorrow they would be more important than wagons or tents or dogs or yaks. The shamans sent up their prayers to Tengri to blind the forces of Genghis Kahn with storms of ice and snow, and sleet and winds, to blow their arrows from us.

  I am a fighting man, and I was then. I was at home only in the saddle, and had never touched — or seen — silk or silver, gold or goshawk. I trusted in my horse and my bow, my strength and skill. But I could not visualize our defeating Temujin, Genghis Khan, whom even then I thought must be the beloved of Tengri, god of the blue sky.

  So — expecting to die — I was determined to spend my last night in a different sort of saddle.

  Her name was Karizu, a girl of the Nayman tribe. She was about my age or perhaps less. Definitely nonvirginal. Definitely accomplished. Her hips and arms were slim and her belly almost flat, but I, the son of a blacksmith, could expect no more. The really desirable women were in the tents of the leaders.

  The round balls of her breasts, each about hand-size, swooped out to dark haloes, with tiny nipples that were hot against my body. They rubbed me, while my prick rubbed her belly in our embrace. We slid down together onto the furs forming the tent floor.

  Her belly was hot, yearning for mine, her thighs opening against mine so that my erect organ caressed her mound in little throbs. She began to move, turning our pressure there into a mutual caress. I fondled the globes of her rump, caressing them, squeezing them, cupping the firm bases of them where they joined the backs of her thighs. She tightened them in my hands, wriggling. I listened to the sudden emergence of little noises from deep in her throat.

  Then I moved a little, and her hands slid between us to grasp the anxious shaft of my rod. She guided it to its nesting place. I gasped as it slipped into her heat. I thrust it in as far as it would go, impaling her cunt.

  Then I began to move, hunching myself hard against her. The sound of our bodies slapping together rapped back from the tent walls. Our mouths came open. Our eyes grew fixed. Her hands clutched at my hips, urging me on, pulling me further and further into the seething marsh of her belly. We went on moving, writhing, groaning and hunching our bodies at each other until I felt it build to the release it must have. I began to lurch and groan and strain, thrusting myself strongly in an attempt to impale the little knob deep within her womb. Then my pelvis was jerking convulsively, and I groaned and pumped my wet stickiness into her body.

  She fell asleep in my arms, with my prick still lying within the hole I had filled. After a while I too went to sleep, despite my thoughts of tomorrow.

  TWO

  In the morning Karizu fed me and opened her clothing so that I could put my hands on her breasts, and asked me if I would marry her. I shook my head and squeezed her breasts, telling her no. Then, while she stared, I went out of the tent.

  It was dawn, but it was not bright with the sun: our mountains, thickly wooded with pines and firs and larch, are so lofty as to defy the very clouds and hide the sun until it is high and fat.

  The shamans were throwing their pebbles into the water, begging the god to favor us. It seemed that he heard. A stout wind was blowing, the sky was gray, and dark clouds milled above us like charging armies.

  By the time we were mounted and in our places it had begun, but the shamans had erred. Or perhaps Koko Mungke Tengri, the Eternal Blue Sky, had chosen not to favor Jamukha and the Taychi-huts. From the sky began to sluice down wet snow and sleet, and we groaned, for it was slanted toward us, away from the enemy. Well-wrapped in hides, I dropped three flaps of my cap so that my neck and ears and cheeks were protected from the angry weather - and, I thought, without wishing to have such thoughts, from the swords and arrows of the enemy. I had no such armor as Jamukha and some of the other nobles wore: well-lacquered leather covering their chests and bellies and
loins in clattering, overlapping plates.

  We cannot fight in this, I thought. I cannot even see!

  At that moment I heard their clashing cymbals, their booming drums, and their war cries. The followers of Genghis Khan were on the attack. I raised my shorter bow — but what was there to loose arrow at? Only the sleet, for I could see nothing ahead of me. My horse whickered nervously when I moved my right heel sharply back into his side.

  There are two reasons I shall not describe that battle (I shall describe others in which I had more part). First, it was not really a battle, for we had no chance with both weather and the undefeatable Genghis Khan against us. And second: I was not really in it.

  The wind began to howl so that one could not even hear the keening of the arrow that brought one's death. But they came, like hail, rushing among us, and we loosed ours blindly, not knowing whether we slew with them or not. The sleet pasted itself to our faces and to our hands, and to the ground beneath so that our horses slipped and slid. The beasts could see no better than we.

  I heard a cry to my right, and suddenly it seemed to diminish, trailing away, and before I could discover the reason for it I too yelled. The man on my right had gone over a precipice as his horse had misstepped. Now I joined him. As I felt myself toppling, I desperately threw myself from my mount, for his rolling, tumbling body would surely have crushed me. I do not know how far down we fell; not far. Perhaps twice the length of my body. Quite enough to kill, had I landed on the rocks below. I did not. My horse did. I landed on him, and rolled off, grunting and gasping, for it tore the wind from me.

  He was dying. Can you conceive of a sky without clouds, anywhere? Can you conceive of a mountain without rock? What is a forest without trees? Such is a Mongol without a horse.

  I do not know how long it was that I ran, slipping and stumbling, squinting and jerking my head to hurl the sleet from my face. Then a horse loomed up, and I confess I had no idea if its rider were a follower of Jamukha or of Genghis Khan. Perhaps he did not know, either. I am sure many men slew their own comrades that day, unable to distinguish who they were. But he was coming, not quite at a gallop, but fast nevertheless, and he had lance in his right hand and saber ready in the other. I had my bow. I jerked it up and sent an arrow into him, for it is only truth to say that I do not miss.

  A man who can sink arrows to right or left or behind from the back of a galloping horse certainly has no difficulty sending a shaft home while standing still, even in a storm!

  He cried out and went over backward, and I leaped for the horse, triumphant. Once in the saddle I would be —

  The damned beast broke into a gallop and was gone. I stumbled and fell across the body of the man I had slain, and I was close to tears. I considered taking his lance, but I still had bow and quiver.

  I ran again through the storm. I could see little, but all about me the battle continued. Horses neighed and screamed as men shouted of menace or triumph or pain. Arrows filled the sleep-misted air and drove into horses and riders alike.

  But I did not get a horse.

  As the storm began to clear, at last, I realized what had happened, what was happening.

  Genghis Khan had won. Jamukha, as he had before, had fled to save his own hide. Indeed, I learned later that he had stolen supplies from his own erstwhile followers, slaying those who objected.

  Genghis Khan set about exterminating the Taychihut. They had refused to accept his suzerainty; they had followed his old enemy against him. They had lessened the number of members of the dream he had: a Mongol empire, where before there had been only autonomous tribes.

  He and his men set about that task, now, and as the storm cleared I heard the shrieks of women and the cries of children as the men of the Kha-khan began their mopping up. Those cries told me clearly that the battle was over, that all my companions were either dead or fled. I did not think long about it. To remain would be foolish: they were taking no prisoners or so it seemed. (I learned later that they had made prisoners only of the young women and a few children; sensible!) I fled.

  I tramped on for hours, slipping and sliding and cursing, my heart pounding so that it strove to tear through my chest. Constantly I looked fearfully about. I could hear them. I heard the occasional cries of triumph and death-screams, as they found a man alive among the trees. They were scattered wide, yelling and beating the brush, as if they were on the hunt, driving all the animals before them, ringing them until they were gathered in one place so that they could be arrowed easily.

  I fell again, and this time I rolled and tumbled down into a ravine whose sides, fortunately were not rock. Twice I clambered laboriously halfway up its slippery sides, and twice I rolled back. The third time I looked up to see a man on a horse. He was gazing down at me. He smiled.

  Then there was another, beside him. My eyes rolled; another man appeared. And another. They sat their horses at the lip of the ravine, smiling down at me.

  "Ho there, boy!" It was a big voice, from a big man, and I gaped up at him. He wore a white felt hat, having taken off the heavier one when the storm of sleet and arrows ceased. From it, on either side at the ear, swung long red ribbons: for decoration, and to tie the hat on in a gale or in the wind a fast rider creates. And there were feathers in his hat, the feathers of an eagle. He was well-armored, well-bearded, and his strange eyes flashed down at me. "Feather him!"

  "Kha-khan!" The man beside him twisted in the saddle. "The battle is over and I had not enough part in it — let's fish him out of this grave and give him a horse, so that I can show him the proper way to use that little horse-bow he carries!"

  Some of the others laughed, and the big man nodded with a smile.

  "We will give you a chance, Taychihut boy. Catch Eohorju's lasso and we'll pull you out." He glanced around.

  "Not a man among us has a lead horse!"

  "I'll give him mine," the man named Bohorju, who wanted to teach me archery, said. He dismounted and tossed his rope down. He and his horse held it steady while I climbed up; what choice had I? I could have killed him and perhaps, just perhaps, one more — but then I'd worn as many arrows as a quiver. This way, if they were sincere, I had a chance. Because of Bohorju's whim.

  I reached the top of the hole into which I had fallen. The big man leaned a little out of his saddle, to look down at me.

  "Why, this is just a boy. How old are you, boy, and what's your clan?"

  "I am fourteen, Kha-khan," I said, knowing this was Genghis himself. "I am Jergetai of the Besut."

  He shrugged. "When I was fourteen I was a father," he said; and then, "If you reach for an arrow prematurely or try to escape once you're mounted, you'll be feathered in the legs, Besut, and we'll take care to see that you die very slowly. I'm angry. Your cowardly leader has fled. Wasn't that fine of my brother Jamukha, to draw you into this and then to leave you to die alone?"

  He swung down from the handsome, white-nosed roan he rode. "Here, Bohorju. If you're to lend this lad your horse, take mine."

  And they all laughed. I did not; I had heard of the war-horse of Genghis Khan. It was said that he galloped without touching the ground, so that every arrow loosed by his rider went straight to the mark without ever being thrown off by a jarring hoof-nail or a slipping step.

  I was very frightened. I knew that I was going to die. But I had known that last night, and had at least spent my last night fucking, as a man should. I regretted only that I had taken down no more of the enemy this day. But — here was my chance.

  Bohorju and I mounted, I on his horse. I glanced about. We were ringed, or nearly so; the only gap was to my right, where the trees and underbrush were thickest. Otherwise mounted men with ready bows or lances were all about us. I reined about and so did he, and in a few heartbeats we were twenty yards apart, facing each other. He was grinning. He knew he would kill me. I did not return his smile, although I was now not so sure: I thought perhaps I had more of a chance than they had so generously vouchsafed me. The pony of the old friend of
Genghis Khan felt good between my legs, better than had Karizu the previous night.

  "NOW!" Genghis Khan himself shouted, and neither his champion nor I hesitated. Each of us clapped heel to flank, knocking an arrow to the string at the same moment. Each horse lurched ahead and in three strides each was running.

  I held my arrow until I saw that he would loose his, and then I dropped one hand and seized the rein. For just an instant I held it, and then released it, and his arrow rushed past my lace, a foot or two in front of me as my horse checked. Then he was galloping again, and as Bohorju fitted another arrow to his bow, I released mine. (Several of the watching Mongols, by the way, had voiced approval at my tactic, and I was sure one of the voices had been that of the Khan of Khans.)

  My arrow was not yet across the distance separating my horse from Bohorju when I had another fitted to the string. But with that one I menaced the men before me, and they ducked, and glanced back as my horse raced forward toward the little gateway in the fence of armed men.

  I cannot imagine how it happened; probably Bohorju jerked the reign, and perhaps his horse was unaccustomed to his signal. But Bohorju was quite all right — while I had sunk my arrow Into the neck of Genghis Khan's war-horse!

  Then I lost my bow as my horse — Bohorju's pony, now mine — plunged without hesitation into the underbrush at which I had aimed at him, and I was in the woods, bent low over his neck to escape the branches that seemed to reach out for me. I heard the keening of arrows, and the slap they made as they went into the trees all about me, but none so much as brushed me or my mount. We rushed on through the wood, far too fast for a sensible man or mount, but I was in no mind to be sensible. Behind me I heard no shouts of approval, now: only screams of rage, and among them was that great strong voice of Genghis Khan. He knew, as I did, that I had escaped.

  THREE

  My father had said that at my birth the old shaman was astonished and puzzled.