men. He hungered to see such things. He had turned gold into bars and rough coins, but he yearned to find pieces that would impress his brothers, both Mongke and Kublai. He was even tempted to keep the libraries, so that Kublai would know he had them. A man could never have enough wealth, but he could at least have more than his brothers.
As the caliph lowered his bulk to his chair, Hulegu clenched and unclenched his hands, grasping unconsciously at what was owed to him. He took his seat and stared coldly into the watery eyes of al-Mustasim. Hulegu could feel the sun stinging the back of his neck and considered calling for an awning until he saw the full glare was in the caliph’s face. Despite his Persian blood, the fat man was not comfortable in the heat. Hulegu nodded to him.
‘What do you intend to offer me, caliph, for your city and your life?’ he said.
Kublai rode east through thick forest that seemed endless. He knew he did not have to fear an attack. His scouts were out in all directions for thirty miles, yet the trees were thick and made an unnatural darkness that had his horse rearing at shadows. He had been told of a natural clearing ahead, but the sun was setting and he could not yet see the vast boulder or the lake his scouts had described.
General Bayar rode just ahead, a master horseman who made light work of the thick foliage. Kublai lacked the man’s easy touch, but he stayed in sight, his personal guards all around him. At least the forest was empty. He and his men had found one abandoned village deep in thick cover and miles from the nearest road. Whoever had made the wretched houses had vanished long ago.
The ground had been rising gently for half a day and Kublai reached a high ridge as the sun touched the horizon, looking down into a steep valley with a perfect black bowl of water at its foot. His horse whickered gratefully at the sight, as scratched and thirsty as its rider. Kublai let Bayar lead the way, happy to follow the path he chose. Together they guided the horses down the slope, seeing lamps ahead like a host of fireflies.
Bayar did not look as weary as Kublai felt. He was not much younger, though the man was still fitter than Kublai’s life among books in Karakorum had made him. No matter how he worked his body, it never seemed to have the easy endurance of warriors and senior men. Half his tumans had gone before him and many would already be asleep in the close confines of gers, or sleeping out under the stars if there was no place to set up.
Kublai sighed at the thought. He could hardly remember the last time he had slept through the night. He dreamed and woke in fits and starts, his mind whirring away as if it had an independent existence. Chabi would soothe him with a cool hand on his brow, but she fell asleep again quickly, leaving him still awake and thinking. He had been forced to keep a leather book of blank pages close to him, so he could write down the ideas that presented themselves just at the moment he was finally drifting off. In time, he would copy his journal onto better paper, a record of his time among the Sung. It would be worthy of the shelves in Karakorum if it continued as it had begun.
After the city of Ta-li had fallen to him, three others had followed within the month. He had sent scouts far ahead of him, carrying news of his mercy. He made a point of choosing men from the Chin who had joined his tumans over the years. They understood what he wanted and of course they approved, so he did not doubt they spoke well of the Mongol leader who was as much a Chin lord as anyone could be.
There had been a moment in those first months when he was able to dream of sweeping right across the Sung lands, of armies and cities surrendering without a blow being struck, until he stood before the emperor himself. That had lasted just long enough for Uriang-Khadai to approach. Kublai frowned at the memory, certain the older general had enjoyed being the bearer of bad news.
‘The men are not paid,’ Uriang-Khadai had lectured him. ‘You have said they are not allowed to loot and they are becoming angry. I have not seen this level of unrest before, lord. Perhaps you did not realise they would resent the mercy and kindness you have shown to our enemies.’ Kublai remembered how the orlok’s eyes glittered with suppressed anger as he went on. ‘I believe they will become difficult to manage if you continue this policy. They do not understand it. All the men know is that you have taken away their baubles and rewards.’
As he guided his horse down through thick brush, Kublai blew air out slowly. Good decisions were never made in anger. Yao Shu had taught him the truth of that years before. Uriang-Khadai might have enjoyed telling him something so obvious, but the problem was a real one. The tumans gave their lives and strength without question for the khan, or whoever commanded them in his name. In return, they were allowed to take wealth and slaves wherever they found them. Kublai could imagine their greed at the thought of all the fat Sung towns, untouched by war and rich on centuries of trade. Yet he had refused to burn them and barely a dozen city officials had died, just those who refused to surrender. In the last city, the people had brought their prefect out and thrown him down in the dust before Kublai’s men. They had understood the choice he offered - to live and prosper rather than resist and be destroyed.
Kublai dismounted stiffly, nodding to Bayar as the general took the horses away. The night was peaceful, with an owl hooting in warning somewhere nearby, no doubt disturbed by the passage of so many men through its hunting ground. He reached down and scooped up a handful of cold water, rubbing it over his face and neck with a groan of appreciation. He had a solution to the problem. He paid many of the men who accompanied the tumans and he had silver and gold coins by the hundred thousand. He could pay the warriors as well, at least for a time. Kublai grimaced, taking more of the water to slick back his hair. It would empty the shrinking war chest Mongke had given him in just a few months. He would then have no money for bribes and no source of new income. Yao Shu had assured him the farmers on his northern lands would have a crop in the ground, but he could not decide the future on unknown quantities. Armies had to be fed and supplied. Adding silver to that was logical enough, if he could only find enough silver.
Standing there, staring across the water, Kublai grew still, then raised his eyes to heaven and laughed aloud. He was in a land where the soldiers were paid like any other tradesman. He had to find the mines where the ore was dug out. He was tired and hungry, but for the first time that day, he didn’t feel it. A year before, he might have seen it as an impossible task, but since then he had seen Sung cities open their gates and surrender to a Chin lord. By the time Mongke’s silver ran out, he would have taxes coming in from his new lands, even if he failed to find the emperor’s supplies. He could make the cities finance their own conquest!
He didn’t hear Yao Shu come up behind him. Despite his age, the old man could still move silently. Kublai gave a start when he spoke, then smiled.
‘I am glad to see you cheerful,’ Yao Shu said. ‘I would be happier if Bayar had not picked a spot to camp with so many mosquitoes.’
Still caught up in the idea, Kublai explained his thoughts. He spoke at high speed in Mandarin, unaware that his perfect fluency made the old man proud. Yao Shu nodded as he finished.
‘It is a good plan, I think. A silver mine takes many workers. It should not be too hard to find someone who has heard of one, or even worked in one. Better still if we can interrupt the pay for Sung soldiers. As well as finding the coins already made, they would suffer as we benefited and perhaps lose a little faith in the men who pay them.’
‘I will set scouts to the task tomorrow,’ Kublai promised, yawning. ‘Until then, I have enough to pay our men in good Chin coin. Will you work out the amounts for me?’
‘Of course. I will have to find the price of a cheap whore in a small town as my base. I think a man should have to save for a day or two to afford such a luxury. At the very least it will teach them discipline.’ Yao Shu smiled. ‘It is a good plan, Kublai.’
They smiled at each other, aware that Yao Shu only used his personal name when there was no one else to overhear.
‘Go to your wife now,’ Yao Shu said. ‘Eat, make babies or rest. You must stay healthy.’ His stern tone brought back Kublai’s memories of old schoolrooms. ‘Somewhere far from here, the emperor of the Sung is raging as the reports come in. He has lost an army and four cities. He will not wait for you to come to him. Perhaps he hoped your men would exhaust themselves in the trek across his lands, but instead he will hear that you thrive and grow strong, that you eat well and yet are still hungry.’
Kublai grinned at the image.
‘I am too tired to worry about him tonight,’ he said, yawning hugely, so that he could feel his jaw crack. ‘I think for once I might sleep.’
Yao Shu looked sceptical. He rarely slept for more than four hours at a time and regarded any more as appalling slothfulness.
‘Keep your book close by. I enjoy reading the things you write.’
Kublai’s mouth opened in protest. ‘It is a private journal, old man. Did Chabi let you look at it? Is there no
