‘Did you leave me with anything?’ he demanded.
Torogene shrugged. ‘What does it matter? The silver will continue to come out of the earth. It does no good sitting in locked rooms beneath the palace.’
‘But ten thousand bars! I did not know there was so much in the world.’
‘Be polite when he gives you his oath then, Guyuk,’ she replied with a tired smile. ‘He is a richer man than you are.’
‘And Batu? If the treasure rooms are empty, what did he want to buy his precious oath?’
Torogene saw the sneer on her son’s face and she frowned.
‘You will have to have dignity when you meet him as well. Let him see nothing in your eyes, my son. A khan does not show small men they mean anything to him.’
She sighed as he continued to stare at her, waiting.
‘We exchanged letters by yam riders. He could not refuse when I told him Baidur had pledged to give his oath to you. I did not have to offer him anything, I think. I did so only to save his pride.’
‘He has too much pride, but it does not matter. I will see him broken in front of all the nation.’
Torogene raised her eyes to the ceiling, suddenly frustrated. How many times would she have to explain to her son before he began to understand?
‘If you do that, you will have a subject and an enemy.’ She reached out and took him by the shoulder as he began to turn away. ‘You must understand this, unless you think I ruled Karakorum by good luck alone. When you are khan, you must court the men of power. If you break one but leave him alive, he will hate you to the end of his days. If you steal his pride from him, he will not miss a chance to take revenge when he can.’
‘Genghis cared nothing for this sort of politics,’ Guyuk replied.
‘Your father did. He understood far better than Genghis how to rule a nation. Genghis could only win an empire. He could never have been the safe hand it needed once it was formed. I have been that hand, Guyuk. Do not dismiss so easily what I tell you.’
Her son looked at her in surprise. Torogene had ruled the nation for more than five years, ever since the death of his father. For two of those, she had been almost on her own with Sorhatani, the army in distant lands. He had not given much thought to her struggle.
‘I am listening,’ he said. ‘I assume you promised again that I would respect the territory Batu was given, or was it to offer him the position of orlok in the army?’
‘I offered both, but he refused the second. I knew then that he would not be khan. He does not burn with ambition, my son, which is why he is no threat to us. I do not know whether it is from weakness or cowardice, but it does not matter. When you have his oath, you can send him back with costly gifts. We will not hear from him again.’
‘He is the only one I fear,’ Guyuk said, almost to himself. It was a moment of rare honesty and his mother gripped his shoulder.
‘He is the direct line of Genghis, first-born to first-born. You are right to fear him, but no longer, do you understand? When the last of them come in, you will summon the princes and generals to your tent on the plain, Batu among them. You will take their oath and for the following week you will visit each camp and let them all kneel to you. There are half a million people who will see you then. Too many to bring into the city. That is what I have given you, my son. That is what you have earned with your patience.’
Sorhatani let herself down carefully from the saddle behind her eldest son. Mongke stretched down his arm to help her and she smiled up at him. It was good to see Karakorum again. Her home in the Altai mountains was far from the seat of power, but that did not mean she had not followed every twist and turn as Torogene and Guyuk bargained for power. When she looked at Mongke, she could wish he had not given his oath so early, but that river had run its course. Her eldest son had seen his father Tolui keep his word, even at the point of death. Mongke could not be an oath-breaker after that; it was not in him. She watched as he dismounted with dignity, seeing again the traditional Mongol warrior in everything he did. Mongke looked the part, with his wide face and heavy shoulders. He dressed in simple armour and he was already known as a man who had no patience for Chin things. There would be no rich foods in the gers that night, Sorhatani thought ruefully. Her son made a fetish of simplicity, seeing a nobility in it that she could not understand. The irony was that there were many in the nation who would have followed such a son, especially the older generals. Some of them whispered that Guyuk was not a man amongst men, that he acted the woman in his father’s palace. Still more spoke with distaste of the way Guyuk continued his father’s practice of surrounding himself with perfumed Chin scholars and their incomprehensible scribblings. If Mongke had lifted a hand, he could have had half the nation under his banners before Guyuk even knew he was threatened. Yet her son’s word was iron and his oath had been given years before. He would not even discuss the issue with his mother any longer.
Sorhatani turned at a joyous shout and held out her arms as her other sons came riding towards her. Kublai reached her first and she laughed as he jumped down from his pony and embraced her, swinging her round. It was strange to see her boys as grown men, though Hulegu and Arik-Boke were still young warriors.
She caught a delicate scent of apples from Kublai as he put her down and stood back to let her hug his brothers. It was yet another sign of Chin influence on him and the contrast with Mongke could not have been greater. Kublai was taller and wiry of build, though his shoulders had broadened over the previous few months. He wore his hair in the Chin style, with a long queue down his back and the rest scraped tight to his scalp. It flicked back and forth as he moved, like the tail of an angry cat. He wore a simple deel robe at least, but no one looking at Kublai and Mongke would pair them as brothers.
Sorhatani stood back, pride swelling in her at the sight of the four young men, each beloved in different ways. She saw how Kublai nodded to Mongke and that her eldest barely acknowledged the gesture. Mongke did not approve of Kublai’s manners, though that was probably true for all brothers close in age. In turn, Kublai resented Mongke’s assumption that, as eldest, he had authority over the other three. She sighed to herself, her good mood evaporating in the sun.
‘There is a ger ready for you, mother,’ Mongke said, raising an arm to guide her to it.
Sorhatani grinned at him. ‘Later, Mongke. I’ve come a long way to see this oath-taking, but I’m not tired yet. Tell me how things are in the camps.’
Mongke paused before speaking, weighing his words. As he did so, Kublai replied.
‘Baidur is here, all stiffness and careful formality. The gossip is that he will give his oath to Guyuk. Most of the princes are close-mouthed about their intentions, but the feeling is that Guyuk and Torogene have done enough. When Batu and the others get here, I think we will have a new khan.’
Mongke glared at his brother for speaking first, but Kublai seemed oblivious.
‘And you, Kublai,’ his mother said. ‘You will give your oath to him?’
Kublai pursed his mouth in distaste.
‘As you have ordered, mother. Not because I feel it is right, but because I do not wish to stand alone against him. I will follow your wishes.’
‘You must,’ Sorhatani said shortly, all lightness gone from her tone. ‘A khan will not forget those who stood with him - or against him. He has your brother. If Batu and Baidur kneel to him, I will give my own oath as well, for your father’s lands. You must not be a lone voice. That would be … dangerous. If what you say is true, I suspect there will be no serious challenger. The nation will unite in its choice.’
‘What a shame Mongke swore to follow him on the Great Trek,’ Kublai said, glancing at his brother. ‘That was the first stone of a landslide.’ He saw Mongke was glowering at him. ‘Come, brother. You can’t be pleased with your man! You jumped early, as soon as you heard the old khan was dead. We all understand it. Be honest, though: is he the one you would choose, if you were free?’
‘He is the khan’s son,’ Mongke said. He looked away stiffly, as if the matter was finished.
‘A khan who did not even name his son as heir in his will,’ Kublai said instantly. ‘That says a great deal, don’t you think? I swear, Mongke, you are the one who brought us all here today. You gave your oath rashly, before any of us knew anything. Guyuk began this race a step ahead because of you. I hope you are satisfied. However Guyuk acts as khan, it will be your responsibility.’
Mongke struggled with his dignity, trying to decide if it was beneath him to argue the point. As always, Kublai could needle him into it.
‘Perhaps if you had ever commanded in battle, little brother, you would know the importance of authority and rank. Guyuk is Ogedai’s first-born son. He
