clutch of his hand on his sleeve. He had asked for a letter of authority, an imperial mandate, but the man had waved his hand in dismissal. Authority lay in what the lords would accept and Xuan had known then that his cousin feared to give such an order. Why else would he have summoned an old enemy to his private rooms? If the emperor ordered it and they refused, his weakness would be exposed and the empire would fall apart into armed factions. Civil war would accomplish everything the Mongols could not.
All this flashed through Xuan’s mind as he stood stiffly once more.
‘I have the emperor’s confidence that you will listen, Lord Sung Win. I have his faith that you will not allow the Sung to be destroyed for petty politics, that loyal Sung lords will recognise the true threat. And I am not the one to lead you against the Mongols, my lord. Whoever does so must command complete confidence from this chamber. If you will take the responsibility, my lord, I will support you.’
Lord Sung Win blinked as he rose again, clearly wondering if Xuan had just ruined his chance to do exactly that. The Chin emperor was a thorn in the side of the lords there and his support was worthless.
‘I had hoped to see the emperor’s personal seal,’ Lord Sung Win said, his eyes bright with dislike. ‘Instead, I hear vague words with no substance, no opportunity to verify their accuracy.’
The chamber grew hushed and Lord Sung Win realised he had gone too far in almost accusing Xuan of lying. He recalled Xuan’s lack of status and grew calm once again. There would be no demand for reparation or punishment from such a fallen power.
Sung Win’s hesitation cost him with the imperial chancellor, who knew better than most what had gone on the night before between his master and the Chin cousin.
‘The chamber recognises Lord Jin An,’ he bellowed.
Sung Win closed his mouth with a snap and took his seat with bad grace as a younger lord nodded to the chancellor.
‘Does anyone here deny the existence of the khan’s army and its smaller brother in the south and west?’ Lord Jin An said, his voice clear and confident. ‘Will they refuse to accept the threat to us all, until those armies are battering at Hangzhou gates? Let us move to a vote at once. I put my name forward to lead one of the two armies we must send.’
For a moment, Xuan lost his frown and looked up, but the young lord’s voice was lost in the uproar. Even the number of armies was in dispute and Xuan felt his heart sink as he realised they could not be shaken from their apathy. In moments, Lord Jin An was angrily vowing that he would take his own men against Kublai, that he would act alone if no one else had the good sense to see the need. Xuan rubbed his eyes as the lack of sleep caught up with him. He had seen it four times before, when young lords set out to battle the tumans. Their martial fervour had not been enough. Accusations and threats were thrown back and forth across the chamber, as each of the lords shouted over their neighbours. There would be no resolution that day, if at all, and all the time the Mongol armies grew closer. Xuan shook his head at the insanity of it. He could try to reach the emperor once again, but the man was surrounded by thousands of courtiers who would consider such a request and whether they should even pass it on. Xuan had seen too much of Sung bureaucracy in his years as a captive and he did not have much hope.
When the meeting broke up at noon, Xuan approached the young lord, still talking furiously to two others. They fell silent at his presence and Lord Jin An turned to him, bowing instinctively to his rank.
‘I had hoped for a better outcome,’ Xuan said.
Lord Jin An nodded ruefully.
‘I have forty thousand, Son of Heaven, and the promise of support from a cousin.’ He sighed. ‘I have good reports this Kublai has been seen around Shaoyang. I should not even be here in this chamber, arguing with cowards. My place is there, against the weaker of the two armies. Forty thousand would be lost against the khan’s army in the north.’ His mouth twisted in irritation and he swept his arm across to indicate the last of the departing lords. ‘Perhaps when these fools see him riding through Hangzhou’s streets, they will see the need to work together.’
Xuan smiled at the younger man’s indignant expression.
‘Perhaps not even then,’ he said. ‘I wish I had a strong army to send with you, Lord Jin An. Yet my eight thousand are yours to command, if you will have us.’
Lord Jin An waved his hand, as if at a trifle. In truth, Xuan’s force would make little difference and both men knew it. In their prime, they would have been valuable, but after years of poor food and worse conditions, a few months had barely begun to restore them. Nonetheless, the young lord was gracious.
‘I will leave on the first of the month,’ he said. ‘It would be an honour to be accompanied by such men. I hope you will be available to advise me.’
Xuan’s smile widened in genuine pleasure. It had been a long time since he had been treated graciously by any Sung lord.
‘Whatever service I can provide is yours, Lord Jin An. Perhaps by the time we leave, you will have found other lords who might share your views.’
Lord Jin An looked back at the empty chamber.
‘Perhaps,’ he murmured, looking doubtful.
Orlok Seriankh paced as he addressed his assembled officers. Twenty-eight tuman generals stood before him. At their backs, two hundred and eighty minghaan officers stood in ranks.
‘I have sent scouts north to join the yam lines,’ Seriankh said. His voice was hoarse from giving a thousand orders, keeping the army from falling into chaos as a thousand voices argued over what to do. Mongke Khan lay dead, wrapped in cloth inside a lone ger. The rest of the army had packed up and were ready to move in any direction as soon as Seriankh gave the order.
‘Lord Hulegu will be informed of the khan’s death in a month, two at most. He will return. The khan’s brother, Arik-Boke, will get the news faster still, in Karakorum. There will be another quiriltai, a gathering, and the next khan will be chosen. I have a dozen men riding south to find Kublai and pass on the news. He too will come home. Our time here is at an end until there is a new great khan.’
His most senior general, Salsanan, stepped forward and the orlok turned to acknowledge him.
‘Orlok Seriankh, I will volunteer to lead a force to Kublai, to support his withdrawal. He will not thank us for abandoning him in the field.’ The man paused and then continued. ‘He may be the next khan.’
‘Guard your mouth, general,’ Seriankh snapped. ‘It is not your place to guess and spread rumours.’ He hesitated, thinking it through. Mongke had many sons, but the succession of khans had never been smooth since the death of Genghis.
‘To support his withdrawal, very well. We have lost a khan, but Lord Kublai has lost a brother. Take eight tumans and bring him safely out of Sung territory. I will take the khan home.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
With ancient oaks overhead, Kublai sat out in the open air. He bore the pain in silence as Chabi washed a cut on his right hand with a skin of airag, taking pulls from it himself to keep him warm. They had both known men who walked away from battles with just a gash, then died in feverish delirium days or weeks later. Humming to herself, Chabi sniffed at his hand and wrinkled her nose. Kublai hissed through his teeth as she squeezed the livid edges, making a thin stream of pus dribble down to his fingers.
‘I do have shamans for this, you know,’ he said affectionately.
She snorted. ‘They’re busy and you wouldn’t bother them with it until your arm was green.’
She gave his skin another sharp pinch, making him jerk. The flow of pus grew red and she nodded, satisfied, resting one hand on the curve of her belly as new life grew within. Kublai reached out and patted the bulge affectionately as she rewrapped the cut with a clean strip of cloth.
The families and followers had moved deeper into the forest while he had been fighting the Sung, obscuring all signs that might be found by enemies looking for them. Kublai had been forced to send hundreds of his men into the green depths.
Just to reach the area, he had fought his way back past two Sung armies and seen his stocks of arrows and lances dwindle once again, though he salvaged as many as he could. Without healers and rest, some of his wounded men had died each day.
He looked overhead, oddly uncomfortable as the thick branches reduced the forest floor to gloom. At least
