The Seven Freaks of the South(Swirling Sands)

1

THE MONKS SOBBED BITTERLY AT THEIR ABBOT'S DEATH, BUT quickly turned to bandaging the wounded and carrying them to the temple guesthouse.

A knocking from inside the bell in the hall suddenly interrupted their work. The monks looked at each other: was it a monster? They began chanting "The King's Sutra", accompanied by the mysterious banging. Eventually some among them pulled the bell aside and together lifted the censer. To their horror, out rolled a ball of flesh. The monks jumped back in fright. The ball then slowly uncurled and stood up; it was Ryder Han. He was unaware of how the fight had ended, but immediately spotted that Scorched Wood was at eternal rest and his martial family gravely injured. Taking up his Golden Dragon whip he marched towards where Qiu Chuji was lying and raised it above the Taoist's head.

"Third Brother, no!" Gilden Quan cried.

"Why not?"

"You mustn't," was all his brother could manage through the pulsing pain in his stomach.

Ke Zhen'e had been struck in both legs, but he was not badly hurt and was as alert as ever. He removed a vial of antidote from inside his shirt and instructed one of the monks to administer it to Qiu Chuji and Jade Han. He then explained all that had happened to his third martial brother.

"Where is Duan?" Ryder Han demanded.

"We'll find the scoundrel soon enough," Ke Zhen'e replied. "First you must help your brothers, they are badly wounded."

Zhu Cong and Woodcutter Nan's injuries were the most serious, and the kick to Gilden Quan's stomach had done its damage too. Zhang Asheng's arm was broken and his chest thumped with pain, but at least he was conscious once again.

The monks sent runners to report the day's events to Withered Wood at Cloudy Perch Temple, and to start making arrangements for Abbot Scorched Wood's funeral.

IT TOOK a few days for the poison to dissipate. Qiu Chuji was in fact well-versed in the medicinal arts and spent his time mixing herbal recipes and giving massages to the Freaks. Before long they were able to sit up in bed. Together they gathered in the monks' sleeping quarters.

Eventually Jade Han broke the silence. "Elder Qiu is wise and capable, and the Seven Freaks are not exactly amateurs. And yet this dog tricked us into turning on each other. If word gets out, we'll be laughed out of the wulin . Your Reverence," she said, turning to Qiu Chuji, "what do you think we should do?"

Qiu Chuji held himself very much responsible. If only he had spoken calmly with Scorched Wood, surely the truth would have come out. "What do you think, Brother Ke?"

Ke Zhen'e was short-tempered by nature, and had only become more so following the events which led to his being blinded. He considered the defeat of his martial family at the hands of the Taoist an event of unparalleled humiliation, and his leg was spasming with pain. His answer, therefore, was rather short. "Elder Qiu has no respect for anyone, so long as he carries his sword. Why ask us our opinion?"

Qiu Chuji was stunned by this response, but understood Ke Zhen'e's anger. He got to his feet and bowed to each in turn. "Please forgive my ill manners. I have wronged each one of you. I beg for your forgiveness."

Zhu Cong and the Seven Freaks bowed too, all except Ke Zhen'e, who pretended not to notice. "My martial brothers and I are no longer worthy of involving ourselves in matters of the martial world. We shall take to fishing or collecting firewood. As long as Your Reverence would be so good as to allow us a horse and leave us alone, we will live out the rest of our days in peace."

Qiu Chuji blushed at Ke Zhen'e's reproof. He sat stiffly, saying nothing, and then took to his feet. "It was I who was at fault. I will not insult you further by wasting your time with my chatter. As for Abbot Scorched Wood's death, the responsibility is mine and I will ensure that the villain Duan meets my blade. Now I must go." Qiu Chuji bowed once more and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Ke Zhen'e called after him.

Qiu Chuji turned. "Was there anything else, Brother Ke?"

"You have caused each of us great injury," Ke Zhen'e said. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What was Brother Ke hoping for? I will do everything in my power to please you."

"Your tone is most rude. You can't just expect us to swallow it," Ke Zhen'e answered, his voice quiet.

The Seven Freaks could be generous and just, but they were also afflicted by an exaggerated pride, bordering on arrogance. It was not for nothing they were named the Seven Freaks, after all. As individuals they were accomplished, but together they were formidable. This was their first taste of defeat. Some years previously, they triumphed over the Huaiyang Gang on the shores of the Yangtze River, defeating more than a hundred men. Jade Han was only a child at the time, but she had killed two. From that day on, their fame spread throughout the jianghu . To be defeated by a lone Taoist was intolerable; all the more so that they were responsible for the death of their good friend Scorched Wood, and for no just cause. No, Qiu Chuji was to blame: he had been impetuous. Never mind that he had been right about a woman hiding in the temple. Skyfury Guo's wife, no less.

"I was gravely injured," Qiu Chuji said, "and would have died, had it not been for Brother Ke's antidote. So I must admit defeat this time."

"If that is so," Ke Zhen'e replied, "then leave us the sword on your back as proof, so there can be no more fighting."

Only Ryder Han and Jade Han were fit for combat, and there was no way they could prevail alone. Ke would rather his martial brothers die by his own hand than by the Taoist's blade.

I have saved them face by admitting defeat, Qiu Chuji said to himself. What else do they want? "The sword is my protection, just like Brother Ke's staff."

"Are you ridiculing my condition?" Ke Zhen'e raised his voice.

"I wouldn't dare."

"Everyone is injured, we cannot fight again," Ke Zhen'e growled. "But I invite Your Reverence to meet us back in the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals this very day one year from now."

Qiu Chuji frowned. Suddenly an idea hit him. "Of course we can arrange another fight, but I should set the rules. Although perhaps we needn't go another round as I already lost the drinking contest to Brother Zhu and have lost again in the temple."

Ryder Han, Jade Han and Zhang Asheng took to their feet and the others straightened themselves as much as their injuries allowed. "We are happy to fight one more round. Our opponent may choose the time, the place and the rules."

Qiu Chuji smiled. They were indeed competitive. "So you will agree to my suggestion, no matter what?"

Zhu Cong and Gilden Quan were confident they stood a chance at victory, whatever perverse or clever trick the Taoist came up with. "You decide!"

"The word of a gentleman . . ." Qiu Chuji said.

". . . is as true as a horseman's whip!" Jade Han finished.

Ke Zhen'e made no reply.

"If my terms are deemed unsuitable, I will of course admit defeat," Qiu Chuji continued. It was an obvious tactic, playing to their vanity.

"Just give us the rules," Ke Zhen'e said.

Qiu Chuji sat back down. "The method I have devised may seem protracted, but it is a true test of skill rather than brute force or momentary bravery. Every martial artist is trained to fight with fist and blade, there is nothing special about that. And besides, we have our good reputations to protect. We are not mere thugs."

If we're not going to fight, then what? the Seven Freaks wondered. Another drinking contest?

"This challenge, seven against one, will not only determine who has more skill, but also determination and stamina, as well as tactical intelligence. By the end, we will know who is worthy of the name 'hero'."

The Seven Freaks were boiling over with anticipation.

"Tell us!" Jade Han said.

"If the challenge involves mixing together elixirs of immortality or charms to drive away ghosts we must accept defeat now," Zhu Cong said, smiling.

Qiu Chuji smiled back. "And I wouldn't want to compete with Brother Zhu in a contest of pickpocketing and filching."

"Tell us!" Jade Han was growing ever more impatient.

"At the heart of our dispute lay a misunderstanding. All because the lives of two descendants of loyal patriots are in danger. It is to this matter we must return."

Qiu Chuji began relating the story of how he met Skyfury Guo and Ironheart Yang, the fight in the snow and his pursuit of Justice Duan to this very temple. The Seven Freaks were just as disgusted with the corrupt Song court as with the brutal Jin, and vowed their allegiance to the brothers Guo and Yang.

"The woman Commander Duan kidnapped was Skyfury Guo's widow, Madam Li. You saw her, I am sure."

"I remember her voice – I could never forget it," Ke Zhen'e said.

"Good," Qiu Chuji continued. "I know not where Ironheart Yang's widow is to be found, however. But I have met her, and you have not. So, my suggestion is—"

"We find Madam Li and you find Madam Bao, and whoever succeeds first will be determined the winner. Am I right?" Jade Han interrupted.

"Finding them may not be easy, but it is hardly a test worthy of determining a hero. No, my proposal is more complicated."

"What is it?" Impatience was now getting the better of Ke Zhen'e.

"Both women are pregnant. We will find them, make sure they are safe and help them with the birth. As the children grow and mature . . ."

The Seven Freaks were astonished at where this was going.

"Then what?" Ryder Han urged.

"We will train them. Once they have reached the age of eighteen, we and other invited masters of the wulin will gather at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. First we will feast, and then our disciples will fight each other."

The Seven Freaks looked at each other.

"Were we to fight and the Seven Heroes defeat me, the glory of the victory would be tainted by the fact that you outnumber me. But in passing our skills on to one disciple each, we will better see whose skills are worthy of earning them the title 'Master'."

"So it shall be!" Ke Zhen'e cried, thumping his staff against the temple floor.

"But what if Madam Li has already been killed by Commander Duan?" said Gilden Quan.

"That is a matter for fate," Qiu Chuji replied. "If the heavens have favoured me, then so be it."

"Fine," Ryder Han rejoined. "We will have helped those poor widows and their unborn children even if we lose, which is the noblest course of action."

"Exactly, Brother Han," Qiu Chuji said, gesturing his approval. "I would be most grateful if the Seven Heroes took care of my dead brother Guo's child and raised him to adulthood." He turned and bowed to each one in turn.

"You have been exceedingly clever with this plan," Zhu Cong said, "as it will involve eighteen years of hard work."

Qiu Chuji's countenance changed and he started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Jade Han challenged.

"The Seven Heroes have a reputation for generosity and a willingness to help others in need," Qiu Chuji said. "Heroes with a strong sense of justice, they say."

"And?" Ryder Han and Zhang Asheng demanded in unison.

"But I see now this was a gross exaggeration."

The Freaks were incensed and Ryder Han slammed his fist on the bench. But Qiu Chuji continued before he could interrupt.

"Since time immemorial, martial heroes have sworn allegiance to one another. They have been prepared to die for friendship. 'In times of peril, who cares for mine own flesh.' Justice was the only honourable consideration, for who could baulk at giving their life for such a noble cause? Could you imagine Jing Ke or Nie Zheng hestitating over such a matter? The Yang and Guo families are in grave distress and in need of our assistance, and you quibble over the details of our contest?"

Zhu Cong's cheeks were hot with shame. He was an educated man and knew well the righteous conduct of ancient men described in the biographies from Sima Qian's Records of the Grand Historian . "Yes, Your Reverence is correct to point this out. I was mistaken. We will do just as you suggest."

"Today is the twenty-fourth day of the third lunar month," Qiu Chuji began, standing up. "We shall meet again on this very same day, eighteen years from now, at noon, at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. With the other heroes of the wulin as our witness, we will see who among us is truly deserving of the title 'Master'." And with a flick of his sleeve, he left.

"I'm going to look for Justice Duan," Ryder Han announced. "We can't let him go to ground, or we'll never track him down."

As the only one not to have sustained any injury, he marched out of the door, swung himself up onto his famous golden steed, Wind Chaser, and went in pursuit of Commander Duan and Lily Li.

"Brother, brother!" Zhu Cong called after him. "You've never laid eyes on them before!"

But it was too late; Ryder Han was impatient by nature and his horse true to its name.

2

JUSTICE DUAN GRABBED AT LILY LI, SLIPPED OUT OF THE temple and began running. Some distance thence, he looked back, and was relieved to see no-one following them. He slowed the pace and made for the river. There he spotted a small boat, jumped down onto the bow and, brandishing his sword, ordered the ferryman to start moving. The land south of the Yangtze was criss-crossed with a spider's web of rivers. Canals and boats were the usual mode of transportation, just as northerners travelled the plains by horse and carriage. No boatman would dare disobey an official, so the man unfastened the moorings and pushed the boat out away from the city.

What a mess! Duan's thoughts were an internal tussle. If I go back to Lin'an, my uncle will surely have me killed. I'd better go north. With any luck the Taoist and the Seven Freaks will have perished from their injuries and my uncle from his anger. Then I will be able to return and resume my post.

He instructed the boatman to follow the river northwards. Duan changed out of his official's clothes and forced Lily Li to do the same.

They swapped boats several times on their way north. After ten days they arrived in Yangzhou, where Duan stopped at an inn. But just as they had settled in, he heard someone outside asking the innkeeper if a Commander Duan had come this way. He peered through a crack in the door. There stood an extraordinarily ugly, stumpy man accompanied by a pretty young girl. They spoke with heavy Jiaxing dialects. The Seven Freaks, he deduced. As luck would have it, the Yangzhou innkeeper was struggling to understand them, giving Duan enough time to grab Lily Li and slip out the back door. She tried to call out, but Duan silenced her, boxing her around the ear despite the searing pain in his arm. He then dragged her back to the water.

They were back on the Grand Canal within minutes and on their way north again. This time, they did not stop until they arrived at the garrison post of Liguo on the shores of Lake Mount Wei, just inside the borders of Shandong province.

Lily Li spent every waking hour wailing and cursing her captor. Duan was no gentleman, to be sure, but he never had any improper intentions, as far as she could discern; she was a somewhat plain country girl with unbound feet, who was by now much swollen with child. Instead, they bickered and scuffled, and never had a moment's peace. He may have been a commanding officer in the Song army, but his martial arts were poor, and fighting Lily Li with only one arm was taking all his strength.

Within days, however, the short man and the pretty girl had caught up with them. Duan wanted to hide in their room, but knowing her rescuers had come, Lily Li started screaming. Duan seized a cotton quilt and stuffed it into her mouth, hitting her as he did so.

Lily Li was proving to be a liability. He would be better off killing her, he reflected. After they heard Ryder Han and Jade Han leave, Duan drew his sabre.

Lily Li had been waiting for a chance to avenge her husband, but Duan tied her hands and legs every night before bed. She saw a murderous glimmer in his eyes, and whispered to herself, "Dear husband, please protect me and help me kill this villain. I will be with you soon."

She reached into her shirt and removed the dagger Qiu Chuji had given her. She had hidden it so well that Duan was unaware of its existence.

Duan sneered and raised his sabre. Lily Li was prepared. She summoned her strength and ran at Duan, dagger first. A gust of cold air skimmed Duan's cheeks. He twisted his weapon, hoping to knock the dagger from her grasp. Yet its blade was so sharp that it sliced crisply through the sabre's blade. The tip of Lily's dagger chipped off and ricocheted in the direction of Duan's ribcage. He stumbled backwards as it slashed open the front of his shirt, and scored his flesh with a bloody stripe. Had Lily used just a little more force, the blade would have eviscerated him. He grabbed a chair and held it in front of him. "Put the dagger down and I won't hurt you!"

Too exhausted to fight anymore, and with the baby kicking inside her, Lily crumpled in a heap on the floor, panting. But she held the dagger firm.

Duan manhandled her onto another boat and together they headed further northwards to Linqing, Dezhou, and on to Hebei province.

Lily Li was not making escape any easier. She screamed and shouted nonsense when they stopped at inns or travelled in boats, attracting considerable attention. She would tear at her clothes and pull strange faces. Had she gone mad? At first Duan believed it must be so. But after a few days he realised she was leaving a trail of clues for her rescuers. Summer had passed and an autumn chill cooled the air. They were by now far into the Jin-controlled north, but Duan was running out of silver and his enemies were still close behind.

They travelled until they reached the Jin Empire's capital, Yanjing. There they would find a quiet place to hide, and Duan would get rid of her. The Seven Freaks would never find them in such a large city.

But before they reached the city gates, a group of Jin soldiers stopped them and commanded them to carry supplies. The soldiers were travelling north with an emissary, charged with presenting the northern Mongolian tribes with Jin imperial ordinances. Ordinary Han Chinese citizens were being forced to act as porters. Lily was dressed in men's clothing, but as she was so short was given a lighter pole. Duan was left to stagger under his one-hundred-jin load.

Duan tried protesting their treatment, but reply came in the form of several lashes across the head. This was not an alien situation to Duan, it was just that previously he had been the one holding the whip. A crucial difference.

Octobers in the north were bitter, the sky swirled with snow and sand, and shelter was hard to come by. They lined up alongside the three hundred Jin soldiers, and together they trudged through open country. One by one they caught the faint sound of shouting carried on the wind from up ahead, and in the distance they could make out a cloud of sand kicked up by a throng of horses.

They fast approached: a defeated tribe from beyond the Gobi, swathed in furs. The Jin ranks dispersed, throwing their weapons behind them. Those without horses escaped on foot, but were soon crushed in the stampede.

Lily Li dropped her pole and ran in the opposite direction to the others. She could not see where Duan had gone, but no-one was taking any notice of her.

She ran and ran, until after some distance she felt a stabbing pain in her stomach. She collapsed behind a sand dune and fainted. There she remained until long after nightfall, when she woke to what in her confusion sounded like the cries of a baby. Her mind a fog, she wondered if she might in fact have passed into the afterlife, but the wails were getting louder. With a sudden jerk, she felt something warm between her legs. There was a break in the snow and a bright round moon peered from behind the clouds. She was awake now, and her chest was heaving with heavy sobs. Her baby was born.

She sat up and took the baby into her arms. A boy. Still crying, she bit through the umbilical cord and wrapped him tight to her bosom. His eyes shone in the moonlight, beneath two thick eyebrows. His cries were strong and carried far. These were no conditions for giving birth, but the sight of her baby gave Lily Li a strength she had never before known. She rolled over onto her knees, and pulled them both into a small ditch nearby to take shelter. There she cried for her baby's father, lost forever.

They made the ditch their home for the night. The next day, when the sun was high in the sky, Lily Li summoned the courage to move. She looked out across the steppe at the dead men and horses scattered everywhere. Not a survivor to be seen.

She found some food in the knapsack of a dead soldier, as well as a knife and flint. She sliced some flesh from a horse and cooked it over a fire. Then she skinned another, wrapping one hide around the baby and another around herself. She and the baby lived like this for ten days, eating horse meat preserved in the snow, until she had regained enough strength to take her child and make her way east in the direction of the rising sun. The hate and anger she had been carrying with her was now transformed into love, and on she walked, doing her best to protect her son from the cutting desert winds.

She walked for days, the ground around her gradually turning ever greener. As the sun began to set, she saw two horses approaching on the horizon. The riders pulled on their reins and stopped to ask if she needed assistance. They were Mongolian shepherds, and did not know Chinese, but instinctively they understood the young mother's story. They brought her back to their gers and gave her food and a place to rest. They were moving camp the next morning in search of fresh pasture, but before departing they gave her four lambs for her new family.

And so it came to pass that Guo's son was born and raised on the Mongolian steppe.

3

YEARS PASSED. LILY LI NAMED THE BOY GUO JING AS QIU Chuji had suggested. He was a slow developer, speaking his first words only at the age of four, but he was strong and able to herd cattle and sheep all by himself. Mother and son depended on each other for survival, living a simple yet back-breaking existence. They learned Mongolian, but when together, still spoke in the Lin'an dialect of Chinese. The boy's soft voice saddened his mother. "You should also be able to speak your father's Shandong tongue, but I never learned it in the short time we had together," she would say.

It was October, the air was growing colder. Guo Jing, now six years old, rode each day out to pasture, accompanied by his sheepdog. Just as the sun was at its highest, a large black bird appeared in the sky. It hovered above the herd briefly, then swooped. One of the young sheep broke free and ran.

Guo Jing jumped onto his pony and galloped seven or eight li before at last catching it. Just as he was about to turn back with the sheep, a deep rumble came echoing across the steppe. Was it thunder? He was not sure what it was, but it frightened him. It grew louder, until a horse's neigh rose above it, followed by more horses and men shouting.

He had never heard anything like it. He hurried the sheep up a small hill and into a nearby clump of bushes. Safely hidden, he ventured a glimpse out.

Through the plumes of dust an army was racing towards him. Guo Jing watched as the commanding general barked an order, and the army broke into two and within seconds assumed formation. They wore splendid white turbans, into which they had stuck coloured feathers.

A brief silence, then a blast of horns from the left. Another army. Three rows charged forward. The young man leading them, an elongated figure in a red cape, held his sword high. The two armies clashed and a bloody battle commenced. The advancing army had fewer men and were beaten back before long, but support was quick to arrive and the fighting grew ever more fierce. And just as the battle appeared to be waning, a blast of horns came again from the east, shaking the remaining men into new life.

"The Great Khan Temujin has arrived! The Great Khan has arrived!"

The fighting continued, but now the soldiers kept looking over in the direction of the horns.

Guo Jing followed their gazes eastward. A cloud of sand swelled, until through it broke a group of riders, holding high a pole from which hung white hair. Their cheers grew louder, bolstering the riders' allies and scattering the hitherto tight formations of their foe. Guo Jing watched from deeper under cover as the banner approached the very hill upon which he was standing.

A tall, middle-aged man was prominent among the riders. He wore a helmet made of shiny metal and his chin laid growth to a brown tuft of beard. Guo Jing did not know this was the leader of the Mongolians, the Great Khan Temujin, later to be known throughout history as the mighty Genghis Khan; he did not even know what the word "khan" meant. But he understood the man's power, and it frightened him.

Temujin and a few of his men sat astride their horses, watching the battle below. Presently they were joined by the young man dressed in the red cape, who called to the Khan.

"Father, we are outnumbered. Should we retreat?"

"Yes, take your men to the east."

He turned back to the battlefield. "Muqali, accompany the Second Prince and his men back to the west. Bogurchi, you and Tchila'un go north. Kublai, you and Subotai, south. When my banner is raised and the bugle sounds, turn back and attack."

The men rode down the hill and within moments the Mongolian army was on the retreat.

"Capture Temujin, capture Temujin!" The enemy forces, meanwhile, were trying to fight their way up the hill.

Temujin stood firm at the top, protected from coming arrows by a wall of shields. Three thousand men, led by Temujin's brother-in-arms Kutuku and his bravest general Jelme, were mounting a valiant defence at the foot of the hill.

The ground shook with the clash of swords and roar of battle. Guo Jing watched, now just as excited as he was frightened.

The fighting continued for an hour or so, as thousands of enemy soldiers mounted charge after charge. Temujin's elite guard lost some four hundred men, but killed at least ten thousand. And yet arrow-fire remained intense. Combat was especially savage on the north-eastern side, where the Khan's ranks looked as if they might collapse at any moment.

"Father, isn't it time to raise the banner?" Ogedai, Temujin's third son, implored.

Temujin's eyes were sharply focused like an eagle's, never moving from the battlefield. "But their men are not yet spent," he answered gruffly.

The enemy soldiers mounted a renewed attack on the northeastern side under the command of three of their best generals, each with his own black banner. The Mongol forces were steadily losing ground. Jelme came riding up the hill.

"Khan, our men can't hold on much longer!"

"Can't hold on? Call yourself a man fit to lead men?"

Jelme's cheeks flushed. He grabbed a sword from one of Temujin's guard, turned and howled as he charged forward, hacking a bloody path through the enemy, right up to the black banners. The generals pulled back hard. Jelme stabbed all three bannermen in quick succession, then threw down his weapon, grabbed the flags and returned to Temujin, planting them upside down at the Khan's feet.

Fighting continued. An enemy commander dressed in black appeared from the south-west. Within seconds, he had shot a quiver's worth of arrows, each taking one Mongol soldier. Two Mongol commanders charged at him with their spears. Both commanders were shot from their horses.

"Lovely!" Temujin said, just as an arrow lodged in his neck. Another followed close behind, heading straight for his stomach.

Temujin reared his horse. The arrow sank deep into the steed's chest, so only the feathers remained visible. The horse fell to the ground. Temujin's men watched in shock. The enemy were pouring up the hill, howling as loudly as their lungs would allow. Ogedai pulled the arrow from his father's neck, tore the shirt from his back and began bandaging the wound.

"Don't worry about me, son," Temujin said. "Defend the pass!"

Ogedai turned and shot down two enemy soldiers.

Kutuku had been leading an attack from the west, but his men were forced to retreat after using up all of their arrows.

"Kutuku," Jelme said, his eyes red. "You run like a scared rabbit?"

"Run?" Kutuku replied. "We have no more arrows."

Temujin threw Kutuku a handful of arrows from where he lay in the mud. Kutuku loaded his bow and shot the closest general, then ran down the hill and retrieved his horse.

"Excellent, my brother!" Temujin said as Kutuku returned.

"Why not raise the banner and sound the horns?" Kutuku suggested, his cheeks smeared with blood.

Temujin pressed against the wound in his neck. Blood pulsed through his fingers and down his wrist. "Not yet. The enemy still have life left in them."

"We are not afraid to die here on the field," Kutuku said, dropping to his knees, "but the Khan is in grave danger."

Temujin took the reins and struggled up onto the saddle. "We must defend the pass!" he said as he spurred his horse. Raising his sabre, he sliced through three enemy soldiers charging up the hill towards them.

Temuji's reappearance took the enemy by surprise. Now was the time.

"Raise the banners! Sound the horns!"

A howl went up. One of the guardsmen stood on his horse and raised the white horsehair banner. The horns sounded. The deafening blast was instantly drowned out by the roar of battle, as line after line of soldiers thundered forward.

The enemy outnumbered the Mongols, but they were now facing an attack from all sides. The outer forces broke within moments, and the fighting engulfed the central guard. The general in black was barking orders, but morale was crumbling.

It took the Mongol army less than an hour to obliterate their opponents. Those left alive fled, including the general in black, who galloped off towards the horizon.

"Three jin of gold to whoever catches him!" Temujin called.

A dozen of Temujin's best men sped after the fleeing general.

The general turned and fired back at his pursuers, knocking man after man from his horse, until they dropped back and let him go.

Temujin's men had claimed a resolute victory over their longstanding enemy, the Tayichi'ud . Temujin was flooded with memories of his capture at their hands, their beatings and insults, the torture and the yoke. Today's victory had gone some way to redressing that humiliation. His heart quickened, and a laugh bubbled up from within. The earth shook with the shouts of his men as they withdrew from the bloody field.

4

GUO JING WAITED UNTIL DARKNESS HAD FALLEN AND THE soldiers charged with clearing the battlefield had left, before emerging from his bush and starting back.

It was well past midnight by the time he arrived home, where Lily Li had been waiting with ever increasing alarm. Guo Jing was met by a relieved mother's arms. He described to her all he had seen. Lily Li listened to her son's stammering, clumsy account, and was reminded of her late husband – his twitching caterpillar eyebrows, his fascination with battle – and it felt like the thrust of a blade to her heart.

A few days later, Lily Li left for the nearest market, some thirty li hence, with two wool blankets. Guo Jing, meanwhile, took the sheep out to pasture as usual. Out in the grassland, his mind galloped back to the fight. He spurred his horse, raised his whip and shouted, herding his flock, imagining himself to be a general leading his men.

Just then the beating of hooves could be heard in the east. A horse was approaching. At first it appeared to be riderless, but Guo Jing realised as it drew close that its master was resting his head on the mane. It stopped and the rider looked up.

It was the black general from the battle, his face soiled with blood and dirt. In his left hand he held what remained of his sabre, not more than a hilt – it, too, covered in blood. This was his only weapon. His left cheek had been slashed, with blood pouring from the wound, as had his horse's legs. The man shuddered, locking his bloodshot eyes on Guo Jing.

"Water . . . Some water please?" the man managed to gasp.

Guo Jing ran the short distance back home and emerged with a bowl of water. The man grabbed it and drank it all down at once. "Another bowl!"

Guo Jing fetched another. Blood turned the water red as he drank. The man laughed, then his face twitched and he fell from his horse.

Guo Jing did not know what to do. But before long the man regained consciousness. "Some water for my horse. And how about something to eat?" he said.

Guo Jing re-emerged with some chunks of cooked lamb and more water.

Food seemed to energise the man, and once finished he struggled to his feet. "Thank you, brother!" He then slipped a thick gold bracelet from his wrist and handed it to Guo Jing. "Here – for you."

Guo Jing shook his head. "Mother says you should never expect anything in return for common kindness."

"You're a good boy!" the man said, replacing the bracelet. He then tore a section from his sleeve and began bandaging the horse's wounds as well as his own.

Then, from the east, came the sound of more horses.

"Won't they let me go?" the man growled.

On the horizon, rolling waves of dust were already visible. They were coming this way.

"Boy, do you keep a bow and arrows in the house?"

"Yes!" Guo Jing replied, and ran back inside.

The man was visibly relieved, but relief quickly turned to disappointment when he saw Guo Jing reappear with the small bow and arrow he used for playing. "I meant the kind for fighting – a big one!"

Guo Jing shook his head.

The riders were getting closer, their banners now visible in the distance. The black general realised he would not be able to outrun them on an injured horse.

"I can't fight them by myself, so I'm going to hide," he said to Guo Jing. But there was nowhere suitable in or around the small thatched cottage. He was desperate. The only place he could think of was the large pile of drying hay nearby.

"I'm going to hide in there," he said, pointing. "Chase my horse away as far as you can. Then find somewhere to hide and don't let them see you." With that, he scrambled into the haystack.

Guo Jing whipped the man's horse and it cantered far into the distance before stopping to munch on some fresh grass. Guo Jing mounted his colt and took off in the opposite direction.

The riders had spotted people ahead, and sent two men on before them. They soon caught up.

"Boy, have you seen a man on a black horse come past this way?"

Guo Jing was no good at lying, so he did not answer. The men asked again, and again, but still the boy refused to speak.

"Let's take him to see the Prince," one of the men suggested. They took hold of Guo Jing's reins and rode with him back to the cottage.

I won't tell them anything, Guo Jing decided as they approached his home.

There stood a tall, thin man draped in a red cape, encircled by a crowd of soldiers. Guo Jing recognised the man: he had taken part in the battle on the hill only two days before.

"What did the boy say?" the Prince barked.

"He's frightened and won't speak."

The Prince cast his eyes around him until they fell upon a black horse grazing in the distance. "Is that his horse? Bring it here," he said.

Ten soldiers split into pairs, surrounded the horse and led it back.

"This is Jebe's horse, is it not?"

"Yes, sir!"

The Prince approached Guo Jing and struck him lightly across the head with his whip. "Where is he? Tell me. You can't fool me."

Jebe gripped his broken sabre even tighter, his heart thudding. He knew this was Temujin's eldest son, Jochi, famed for his brutality. The boy was going to give him away; he had to be prepared to fight.

Guo Jing was in pain but fought back his tears. "Why did you hit me?" he asked, holding his head high. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You're a stubborn boy," Jochi growled as he whipped Guo Jing once more. This time tears gathered in Guo Jing's eyes.

Jochi's soldiers had been searching the house, and two men even poked at the haystack with their spears, but as luck would have it, they did not hit Jebe.

"He can't have got far without his horse. Boy, are you going to tell me where he is?" Jochi struck Guo Jing across the head three more times, each time a little harder. Guo Jing made a vain attempt to grab the Prince's whip.

Then came the sound of horns in the distance.

"The Great Khan is coming!"

Jochi lowered his whip. The soldiers rushed to gather around the Khan as he stopped in front of them. "Father!"

Temujin's injuries were grave. The Khan had summoned his last reserves of energy to fight out the battle, but fainted several times after Jebe fled. His general Jelme and third son Ogedai took turns sucking the blood clots from his wounds, and together his four sons and best generals waited by his bed through the night until he was out of danger. Early the next morning, the Khan's men rode in search of Jebe, swearing they would catch and quarter him. One small group found him around dawn that morning and a fight ensued, but the black general had prevailed.

"Father, we found his horse!" Jochi announced, pointing it out for the Khan.

"The horse is no good to me. I want the man!" Temujin replied.

"Of course, Father, we'll find him," Jochi said. He went back to Guo Jing, unsheathed his sabre and swung it menacingly above the boy's head. "Well? Are you going to tell me now?"

The earlier beating had emboldened the boy. "No!"

Temujin noted the boy did not claim ignorance. "Trick it out of him," Temujin whispered to his third son.

Ogedai approached Guo Jing with a smile and plucked two resplendent peacock feathers from his helmet. "These are yours if you tell me."

"No!" Guo Jing insisted.

"Release the dogs!" An order from Temujin's second son, Chagatai. The soldiers brought forth six of Chagatai's beloved mastiffs, led them to where Jelme's horse was grazing to catch Jebe's scent, and then let them loose. They ran straight for the cottage and out again, roaring and barking.

Guo Jing was no friend to Jebe, but he had admired the general's bravery on the battlefield, and Jochi's whipping had only strengthened his resolve. Guo Jing whistled to his sheepdog. Chagatai's mastiffs were circling in on the haystack, but Guo Jing commanded his dog to block them. Chagatai shouted and the mastiffs pounced. Howls, barks, teeth clashing. Though outnumbered, Guo Jing's sheepdog fought back bravely, but within moments he was covered in large gashes. Guo Jing cheered between his tears.

Temujin, Ogedai and the rest of their men knew Jebe must be in the haystack, but as there was no escape for the black general they decided to enjoy the dogfight first.

But Jochi could not wait and took his whip to Guo Jing. The boy rolled on the grass in pain, close to where Jochi was standing. Then suddenly he jumped up and grabbed hold of Jochi's right leg. Jochi tried to shake him off, but Guo Jing was surprisingly strong. Jochi's brothers started laughing and even the Great Khan had to hide a smile. Jochi's cheeks flashed scarlet. He pulled out his sabre and swung at Guo Jing's head. Just as the blade was about to slice the boy's head clean from his neck, out from the haystack popped a broken sabre to block his swing. Jochi felt his fingers shake and he nearly dropped his weapon.

Jebe scrambled out from under the hay and pulled Guo Jing behind him. "Taken to bullying children now? Have you no shame?"

The soldiers surrounded Jebe, spears at the ready. He had nowhere to go. Jebe threw down his broken sabre. Jochi made to punch Jebe in the chest.

"Go on, kill me!" the black general shouted back, instead of defending himself. "Shame I won't be granted the honour of dying at the hands of a true hero."

"What did you say?" Temujin cried.

"Were I to die on the battlefield, defeated by a hero, I would have no regrets. But today an eagle has fallen and is about to be eaten by ants."

Jebe then howled. Chagatai's hunting dogs had pinned Guo Jing's sheepdog to the ground and were chomping and snarling at it, but Jebe's call stopped them, and they retreated, tails between their legs.

"Great Khan, such arrogance is not to be tolerated," one of Temujin's men cried, stepping out from the crowd. "Let me fight him!"

"Fine! You show him," Temujin replied. It was one of his best generals, Bogurchi. "If there's one thing we have plenty of, it's heroes."

"I'll kill you. So you may die with no regrets," Bogurchi cried, as he stepped forward.

"And who are you?" Jebe replied, eyeing the sturdy man opposing him.

"My name is Bogurchi! Maybe you've heard of me?"

Jebe felt a shiver go through him. So this is the famous Bogurchi? Jebe said to himself. His fame precedes him; he is a hero among the Mongols. But he rolled his eyes and snorted, feigning indifference.

"You are named for your great skills with the bow and arrow," Temujin said to Jebe. "Why not see who is more skilled: you, or my sworn brother here?"

"You are a sworn brother to the Great Khan?" Jebe turned to Bogurchi. "In that case, I'll take pleasure in killing you first."

The Mongol soldiers burst into laughter. Bogurchi's unparalleled fighting skills had made him famous across the steppe. Jebe may well be a talented archer, but was he a match for the great Bogurchi?

As a boy, Temujin had been taken prisoner by his father's former allies, the Tayichi'ud, and taken to the banks of the Onon River, where they thrust his head through the flat wooden panel of a cangue. There they drank, and lashed him with their whips. Temujin waited until his captors were incapacitated with drink before knocking the guard over the head with the cangue, still locked around his neck, and escaping into the forest.

The Tayichi'uds called a search across the steppe. A young man by the name of Tchila'un took pity on Temujin, and, risking the wrath of the Tayichi'ud, broke the cangue from Temujin's neck, burned it, and sheltered the fugitive in a cart of fleeces. Presently the Tayichi'ud men came and searched Tchila'un's home. The men spotted the cart and began removing the fleeces, one layer at a time. Just as they were about to uncover the future Khan, Tchila'un's father interrupted the soldiers.

"The weather is so hot, how could he be hiding in the fleeces? He would be dead by now."

The summer solstice was upon them, and sweat poured from their bodies like storm rains. The old man spoke sense, so the soldiers left.

Temujin had fled home, and now, along with his mother and younger brother, was forced to keep moving across the steppe, surviving on wild rats and his horsemanship to keep them ahead of their pursuers.

One day, eight of Temujin's white horses were stolen by a rival tribe. Temujin was giving chase when he encountered a young man, milking his horse. Had he seen where the thieves had fled? This was Bogurchi. "We both know the hardships a man faces in these grasslands. Let us be friends," he said.

They rode together for three days before at last catching up with the thieves. They fought side by side. Their arrows slayed hundreds of men, and together they recovered the horses. Temujin offered to give Bogurchi four, but Bogurchi refused. "This I did for friendship, nothing more."

In one another they found a bond deeper than any other.

Temujin now gave his bow to Bogurchi and jumped down from his steed. "Ride my horse, use my bow and arrows. It will be as if I killed him myself."

"As you command." Bogurchi took the bow in his left hand, the arrows in his right, and jumped up onto Temujin's beloved white horse.

"Give your horse to Jebe," Temujin said to Ogedai.

"He is most fortunate indeed," Ogedai said, dismounting. One of the bodyguards led the horse to Jebe.

"I am surrounded," Jebe said to Temujin, once seated on Ogedai's horse. "You could have killed me easier than a sheep. I dare not ask for more favours. Just give me a bow – no arrows are necessary."

"No arrows?" Bogurchi said.

"That's right. I can kill you with just a bow."

Again the Mongolian soldiers guffawed.

"How he boasts!"

"What a braggart!"

Temujin ordered them to give Jebe one of their best bows.

Bogurchi knew Jebe's shot was precise. But to fight without arrows? Bogurchi realised Jebe must be planning to send his arrows back at him. He squeezed his thighs and Temujin's horse sprang forward.

Jebe pulled on his reins. Bogurchi nocked an arrow, pulled back and shot. Jebe reached out. The arrow was in his hand.

Impressive, Bogurchi said to himself.

Another arrow.

Jebe listened as it cut through the air. This one he couldn't catch. He pressed his body flat against the horse's back. The arrow passed above, ruffling the hairs on his head. He spurred, turned his horse, hauled himself upright. But Bogurchi fed his bow quickly, and two more arrows came whistling towards him. He slipped down from his saddle, his right foot still hooked into the stirrup, and held himself inches from the ground slipping by below. There he fluttered at the horse's feet, like a trapped kite. He turned, loaded the arrow he had caught, fired it and flipped back into the saddle.

"Amazing," Bogurchi breathed. He shot at the approaching arrow. The arrowheads clashed, twisted and sank into the sand. Cheers rose from Temujin and his men.

Bogurchi nocked an arrow, aimed left, waited for Jebe to react, and shot right. Jebe knocked the arrow away with his bow into the dirt. Bogurchi fired three more arrows in a rapid flurry, all of which Jebe dodged with ease. Jebe spurred his horse, leaned down, picked three arrows from the dirt, bent his bow and shot.

Bogurchi leapt up and stood on his saddle in an extravagant display. Balancing on his left foot, he kicked the flying arrows away with his right, before pulling back his bow with all his power and letting fly. Jebe jerked to one side and shot an arrow at Bogurchi's, splitting it along the shaft.

Bogurchi was growing uneasy and increasingly impatient. He fired a blur of arrows. Unable to catch so many in succession, Jebe contrived to avoid them. But still the arrows kept coming, thick and fast, until he was struck in the left shoulder. The crowd cheered.

Smiling, Bogurchi reached for another arrow, intending to kill Jebe. His hand felt into his quiver's deepest corners. There were none left. He always took sufficient supplies with him into battle: two quivers around his waist and six on the horse. But he was not using his own mount now; he was riding the Khan's. He pulled the horse round, stooped, and swept at the moving grass.

Jebe knew this was his chance, and fired an arrow square into Bogurchi's back. A gasp rose from the crowd. It was a painful blow, but despite the force of the shot, the arrow failed to penetrate Bogurchi's clothing and fell to the ground. Bogurchi reached down and inspected the arrow. Jebe had removed the arrowhead.

"I avenge the Great Khan! You needn't show me any mercy!" Bogurchi cried, sitting back in the saddle.

"Jebe shows no mercy to his enemies. I have killed you, in all but deed."

Temujin had been watching in distress, but his fears were allayed when he realised Bogurchi was unhurt. He would have exchanged ten thousand sheep, oxen and horses to keep his best general and friend from being killed. "Enough!" Temujin called. "You have proven your prowess. We no longer seek vengeance upon you."

"I am not asking the Khan to spare my life."

"Then what do you want?"

"It is him I wish to be spared!" Jebe answered, pointing at Guo Jing standing by the door. "All I ask is that the Khan troubles the child no more. As for myself," he continued, "I wounded the Khan and deserve punishment. Come, Bogurchi!" He pulled the arrow from his shoulder and loaded his bow, the blood still dripping from the tip.

"Fine! Let's fight!"

A deluge of arrows rushed from Bogurchi's bow, forming a chain through the air.

Jebe hooked his foot through the stirrup, tucked himself under his horse's belly, and aimed. Bogurchi's white colt pulled left without his master's command, but Jebe had been swift, and the arrow hit the horse in the forehead, bringing it crashing to the ground.

Bogurchi fired as he rolled, splitting the bow in Jebe's hand. Jebe cursed, and steered his horse away from Bogurchi's arrows. Cheers rose from the spectators.

He's an impressive archer, Bogurchi had to admit. He bent his bow, aimed at Jebe's back and let go.

The arrow hit Jebe in the back of the head. Jebe convulsed and fell from his horse, the arrow landing in the grass beside him. But Bogurchi too had removed the arrowhead. He loaded another arrow and held it aimed at Jebe. "Great Khan!" he cried, turning to Temujin. "Have mercy and let him go!"

"Will you not surrender?" Temujin responded.

Jebe's stubborn defiance was overcome. He ran over to Temujin and knelt at his feet.

Temujin smiled. "From this day forward, you fight with me!"

Mongolians often turn to song to express their feelings. Kneeling before the Khan, Jebe began to sing:

"The Great Khan is merciful, as befits his name,

Which I will repay with my protection,

With contempt of fire and water,

And rebel against dark seas and rupturing cliffs.

Take our enemies, gouge out their hearts!

I will go wherever I am needed.

For the Khan I am always willing,

Ten thousand miles by sun or moon! "

Temujin produced two gold ingots and gave one each to Bogurchi and Jebe.

"Great Khan, may I give this to the boy?"

"You may do with your gold as you please," Temujin replied.

Jebe approached Guo Jing and held out the ingot, but Guo Jing shook his head: "Mother says you should never expect anything in return for common kindness."

Temujin admired the boy's bravery, but liked him even more after hearing this. "What an impressive young man!" Then, turning to Jebe: "Bring him to me later." He then left, instructing a squad to mount the dead horse on the backs of two others, and to follow behind.

Jebe was exhausted, but pleased with the outcome. He lay in the grass to rest and wait for the boy's mother to return.

"You're a good boy, you did the right thing," Lily Li said to Guo Jing after Jebe told her of her son's fearless conduct, even if the wounds on his face did trouble her. But how would the boy avenge his father's death if he remained a shepherd his whole life? No, it would be better to let him train with the Great Khan's men. So mother and son agreed to go with Jebe, and join Temujin's tribe.

Jebe was put in command of a team of ten under Temujin's third son, Ogedai. Jebe and Bogurchi held each other in great esteem, and became loyal friends. Nor did Jebe forget his debt to Guo Jing. He took good care of mother and son, and decided he would teach Guo Jing all his skills with the bow and arrow, as soon as the boy was old enough.

5

ONE DAY, GUO JING WAS PLAYING WITH SOME OF THE OTHER children when two riders came galloping into the encampment with urgent news for the Khan. They rushed to Temujin's ger and within moments the horns were sounded and soldiers ran from their tents. The men were organised into squads of ten, each with its own commander. These were then organised into companies made up of ten squads, battalions of one thousand men and, finally, divisions of ten thousand, each with their own commander. Temujin kept close control of his army through this chain of command.

Guo Jing and the other children watched as the men took up their weapons and mounted their horses. Another horn blast sounded, and the ground shook as the horses gathered into formation. By the end of the third blast, silence had descended as all fifty thousand men were lined up before the encampment's main gate. Only the occasional horse's snort broke the quiet; no-one spoke, no clanging of weapons was heard.

"Of our many victories the Jin Empire knows," Temujin cried as he walked through the main gate with his three sons. "The Jin Emperor sent his Third and Sixth Princes here today to appoint your Khan an officer of the Jin!"

The soldiers raised their weapons and hailed their Khan. The Jin controlled all of northern China by the force of a strong and disciplined army; their influence stretched east to the seas and west to the deserts. The Mongols, in contrast, were just one of many nomadic tribes on the steppe. To be named an official of the Jin Empire was an honour for Temujin.

The Khan ordered his eldest son Jochi to lead his ten-thousand-strong corps to welcome their guests. The remaining forty thousand men would wait in formation.

News of the growing power of northern tribes such as Temujin's worried the Jin Emperor Wanyan Jing, titled Ming Chang. In reality, the Princes were not here just to secure an alliance between the Mongols and the Jin Empire, but to ascertain at first hand their capabilities in case of future conflict. The Sixth Prince, Wanyan Honglie, was the very same Prince who had travelled to Lin'an, where he was wounded by Qiu Chuji, and on to Jiaxing, where he encountered the Seven Freaks of the South.

After some wait, a blot of dust appeared on the horizon, announcing Jochi's return with the two Princes, Wanyan Hongxi and Wanyan Honglie, and their force of ten thousand elite soldiers, dressed in the finest brocade and armour. Those on the left of the formation were armed with spears and those on the right with wolf-fang clubs. The clanking of their armour was audible for miles. Sunlight glinted on their uniforms of silk and metal, and they shone ever more resplendent as they came into view. The brothers rode side by side, while Temujin and his men stood by the road, waiting.

As they drew near, Wanyan Hongxi caught sight of the children watching, and laughed. He puffed himself up, reached into his shirt for a handful of gold coins and threw them at them. "A gift!"

But, to Mongolians, throwing coins like this was the height of disrespect. These children were descended from soldiers and generals. Not one of them moved to pick up the coins.

"Come on, you little devils!" Wanyan Hongxi cried, throwing another handful of coins in frustration.

This angered Temujin and his men even more. They may not have had the grand outward trappings of other great civilisations, but the Mongolians were a refined people. They did not swear, even against their gravest enemies or in jest. To step inside a ger was to be treated with utmost hospitality, whether friend or foe, and a guest was to return this favour with decorum. They may not have understood Wanyan Hongxi's heavily accented Mongolian, but they understood his attitude all too well.

Guo Jing had grown up on stories of Jin scorn, and of how they had invaded his motherland China, corrupted its officials and killed its greatest general, Yue Fei. He stepped forward now. "We don't want your money!" he cried, picking some coins from the dirt. He ran and hurled them as hard as he could at the Third Prince.

Wanyan Hongxi ducked, but one struck him on the cheekbone. Temujin's men cheered.

It did not especially hurt, but such humiliation at the hands of a six-year-old boy was too much. He swiped a spear from one of his guards. "I've got you, you little devil!"

"Brother!" Wanyan Honglie said, realising the situation was getting out of control. But it was too late: the Third Prince had already thrown the weapon. Guo Jing turned, rather than stepped aside. At the last possible moment, an arrow came from the left, like a meteor shooting for the moon, and hit the spear on the head, deflecting it. Guo Jing ran back to the other children, the cheers of Temujin's men shaking the ground beneath him.

The arrow belonged to Jebe.

"Third Brother, forget about him!" Wanyan Honglie hissed.

The cheers of Temujin's men left Wanyan Hongxi shaken. He glared at Guo Jing. "Little bastard," he muttered.

Temujin and his sons stepped forward and led the Princes to the Khan's ger , where they served their guests koumiss and plates of lamb and beef. With the help of interpreters, Wanyan Hongxi read the royal decree, conferring upon Temujin the title of "Queller of Northern Uprisings". Temujin knelt before Wanyan Hongxi and accepted the title and a golden belt, a symbol of his allegiance to the Jin Empire.

THAT NIGHT the Mongolians honoured their guests with a lavish feast.

"Tomorrow, my brother and I will bestow Ong Khan with a title," Wanyan Hongxi stuttered, drunk on koumiss. "Will our Queller of Uprisings join us?"

Temujin was delighted and agreed at once. Ong Khan, a Kerait, was recognised as leader of the northern tribes of the steppe. He was the richest, and commanded the most men, but was known to be fair and magnanimous in his treatment of others. He was universally liked and respected. Ong Khan was sworn brother of Temujin's father. After Temujin's father was poisoned and Temujin fled, it was Ong Khan who took him in as his own son. Not long after Temujin was married, his wife was captured by the Merkits. It was only after receiving help from Ong Khan and Jamuka, Temujin's sworn brother, that Temujin managed to defeat the Merkits and reclaim his wife.

"Is the Jin Empire granting titles on anyone else?" Temujin asked.

"No," Wanyan Hongxi said. "There are only two men of note in the northern steppe: Ong Khan and the Great Khan Temujin."

"No-one else would be worthy of a title," Wanyan Honglie added.

"I disagree. There is one man the Princes are perhaps unfamiliar with," Temujin said.

"Is that so? Who?" Wanyan Honglie said.

"My sworn brother, Jamuka. He is most righteous and commands his men with a just hand. May I ask the Princes to bestow an official title on him as well?"

Temujin and Jamuka had grown up together, cementing their friendship with a bond of brotherhood when Temujin was just eleven, a custom known among the Mongolians as anda , sealed with an exchange of gifts. Jamuka and Temujin swapped hunting stones made from deer bone. After the boys became anda , they went to the Onon River while it was still frozen over and threw them out across it. When spring came the boys swore their brotherhood again, Jamuka giving Temujin a whistling arrow he had carved himself from two ox horns, while Temujin presented his friend with a cedar arrowhead.

When they reached manhood, they lived with Ong Khan. They would compete every day to see who could rise first and drink a cup of yoghurt from Ong Khan's own jade cup. After Jamuka and Ong Khan helped recover Temujin's wife, the sworn brothers exchanged gifts once more, this time gold belts and horses. By day the men drank wine from the same cup and at night slept under the same blanket.

Their tribes, however, were eventually forced to take different directions in the search for fresh pasture, and the two men were separated. But both tribes flourished and their loyalty endured. It was natural that he should wish for his anda to be honoured as well.

"We don't have titles to give to all you Mongolians. How many do you think we have?" Wanyan Hongxi stammered, by now half drunk. Wanyan Honglie cast his brother a meaningful look, but was ignored.

"Fine, give him my title instead."

"Does a title mean so little you would give it away?" Wanyan Hongxi cried.

Temujin stood up. Without uttering another word, he downed the contents of his cup and left. Wanyan Honglie was left to diffuse the situation with some hasty and not particularly amusing jokes.

THE NEXT morning, just as the sun was climbing above the horizon, Temujin mounted his horse and went to inspect the five thousand mounted horses already lined up in formation. The Jurchen Princes and their men were still sleeping.

Temujin had at first been impressed by the Jurchen army; they appeared strong and well equipped. But still sleeping? Temujin snorted. Now he saw they were undisciplined and libertine. "What do you think of the Jin?" he asked Muqali.

"A thousand of our men could defeat five thousand of theirs," was Muqali's reply.

"Just what I thought," Temujin said with a smile. "But they say the Jin has more than a million men at its command. We have only fifty thousand."

"But you can't lead one million men into battle at once. If we were to fight them, we could take ten thousand today and another ten thousand tomorrow."

"We always agree when it comes to military strategy." Temujin patted him on the shoulder. "A man weighing one hundred jin can eat ten oxen, each weighing ten thousand jin. He just needs time." They laughed.

Temujin pulled at his reins. Then he caught sight of his fourth son Tolui's horse without its rider. "Where is Tolui?"

Tolui was only nine years old, but Temujin treated his sons in the same way he did his troops, with an iron discipline. Anyone breaking his rules was punished.

Temujin's men were uneasy. General Boroqul, Tolui's mentor, was overly concerned. "The boy never sleeps late. Let me see."

Just as he turned his horse, he saw two children running towards him holding hands. The boy with a strip of brocade tied around his forehead was Tolui, the other was Guo Jing.

"Father!" Tolui was excited.

"Where have you been?" Temujin demanded.

"Guo Jing and I swore an oath of brotherhood down by the river. Look, he gave me this," Tolui said, waving an embroidered red handkerchief Lily Li had made for her son.

Temujin recalled with fondness the time he and Jamuka became sworn anda , two innocent children just like those standing before him now. "And what did you give him?"

"This!" Guo Jing said, pointing to his neck, to the gold necklace Temujin's son usually wore.

"From now on, you must love and look after each other," Temujin said.

They nodded.

"Now, mount your horses," Temujin said. "Guo Jing is coming with us."

The boys climbed into their saddles in excitement.

After yet another hour's waiting, the Jin Princes emerged from their gers , washed and dressed at last. Wanyan Honglie caught sight of the Mongolian soldiers waiting in formation and sent a hurried order to his men to get ready. But Wanyan Hongxi believed in making the Mongolians wait, to let them know who had the power. He ate at a leisurely pace, accompanying the snacks with a few cups of wine, and then mounted his horse. It took another hour for the ten-thousand-strong Jin army to muster before setting off.

They marched northwards for six days until they were met with a delegation sent by Ong Khan consisting of the Khan's son Senggum and his adopted son Jamuka. When word reached Temujin that his sworn brother was up ahead, he galloped on. The two men jumped from their horses and embraced. Temujin's sons followed close behind to greet their uncle.

Jamuka was tall and spindly, Wanyan Honglie observed, his upper lip decorated with the finest threads of gold. His eyes were quick. Senggum, in contrast, was pale and flabby, no doubt from having lived a life of opulence. He looked nothing like the men hewn by the harsh climate of the steppe. He was haughty and showed a noticeable disregard for the Great Khan.

Together they rode on again for another day. Then, just as they were approaching Ong Khan's camp, two of Temujin's advance guards came riding back. "The Naiman are blocking the way ahead. Some thirty thousand of them."

"What do they want?" Wanyan Hongxi was anxious after hearing the translation.

"To fight, it would seem."

"They've really brought thirty thousand men?" Wanyan Hongxi stuttered. "Isn't . . . Aren't we outnumbered—"

Temujin did not wait for Wanyan Hongxi to finish. Turning to Muqali he said, "Find out what's going on."

Muqali rode on with ten bodyguards while the rest of the entourage waited. He was back before long. "The Naiman say that since the Great Jin Empire granted a title to our Khan, the Princes should bestow one on them too. If Your Excellencies don't, they will take you hostage until such a title is forthcoming. Not only that, they want a rank of higher status than that given to our Great Khan Temujin."

"Demanding a title?" Wanyan Hongxi's cheeks had gone pale. "That's sedition. What should we do?"

Wanyan Honglie started organising his troops into their fighting positions as a precaution.

"Brother," Jamuka said, turning to Temujin, "the Naiman frequently steal our livestock and harass our people. Are we really going to let them get away with this? What do Your Excellencies want us to do?"

Temujin had by now surveyed the terrain and concocted a plan. "Let's show the Princes how we do things here on the steppe." Temujin let out a cry and cracked his whip twice. Five thousand Mongolians howled in response, startling the Jin Princes.

Up ahead, the Naiman were approaching.

"Brother," Wanyan Hongxi said, "order our men to charge. These Mongols don't know how to fight."

"Let them go first," Wanyan Honglie whispered.

Realising his brother's intentions, Wanyan Hongxi nodded. The Mongolian soldiers howled again, but still they did not move.

"Why are they howling like animals?" Wanyan Hongxi said. "Shouting alone isn't going to make them turn back."

Boroqul was positioned on the left flank. He turned to Tolui, who along with his sworn brother Guo Jing had joined his voice with the other men. "Follow me and don't fall behind. Watch and learn."

Just then enemy soldiers appeared through the dust up ahead. Still the Mongols howled, still they did not move.

Wanyan Honglie was growing more and more anxious. The Naiman were fierce and might attack at any moment.

"Fire!"

The first row of Jin men released several rounds of arrows, but the Naiman were still beyond reach. They were charging at speed towards them. Wanyan Hongxi began to panic, his heart thudding. "Why don't we just give them what they want?" he said to his brother. "We can make up some title, something high ranking, it doesn't matter. It wouldn't cost us anything."

With two cracks of Temujin's whip, the Mongols fell silent and split into two flanks. Temujin and Jamuka each took one. Leaning low in their saddles, they galloped towards higher ground on either side, calling orders to their men as they rode. The riders split off into small groups as they ascended, covering all positions. Now they had the height to their advantage, they loaded their bows and held them high.

The commander of the Naiman too looked for higher ground. But the Mongolians had erected walls made from layers of sheep's fleece to shield them from incoming arrows. The Naiman shot up at the Mongolians, but their arrows fell short, or were caught up in the fleece barricades.

The Mongolians returned fire, and the Naiman fell back in chaos and confusion.

Temujin watched the tumult from his position high on the left. "Jelme, attack the rear!"

Armed with his sabre, Jelme charged, one thousand men behind him, and blocked the Naiman retreat.

Jebe took up his spear and pressed to the front of the charge. His target was the Naiman commander-in-chief; he would kill him as an expression of gratitude to Temujin.

Within moments the Naiman rearguard fell apart and the foremost ranks were in chaos. The Naiman commander hesitated, giving Jamuka and Senggum time to join the charge. Facing attack on all sides, the Naiman fell into disarray. Abandoned by their commander, the remaining men threw down their bows, dismounted and surrendered.

The Mongols had killed over a thousand Naiman men, captured two thousand more and gained almost as many horses before the rest of the army fled. They had lost no more than a hundred of their own.

Temujin ordered the captives be stripped of their armour and split into four groups, one for the Wanyan brothers, one for his adoptive father Ong Khan, one for his sworn brother Jamuka and one for himself. Mongolians whose relatives had died in battle received compensation: five horses and five slaves.

The battle now over, Wanyan Hongxi burst into nervous laughter. "They want a title?" he said, turning to his brother. "How about 'Conqueror of the Northern Queller of Uprisings'?"

For all his brother's jokes, Wanyan Honglie was feeling decidedly nervous. The Empire would be in trouble if Temujin or Jamuka ever united the northern tribes and took command of the steppe.

The Mongols were a genuine threat.

He was still mulling this over when yet more dust appeared on the horizon. Another army approaching.