them as they caught sight of the tumans, no doubt to inform Batu of the threat. Bayar had broken his last yam station some miles before, taking the furious riders with him. Kublai’s orders no longer applied, now that he had made contact. Arik-Boke would soon hear, as they wanted him to hear, and he would know his northern lands were cut off. Bayar hoped Kublai and Uriang-Khadai had reached Samarkand. Between them, they would isolate Karakorum, snatching away the two great suppliers of grain and herds to the capital.
With battle horns droning, Bayar picked up the pace, his thirty thousand men moving well as they dragged the tail of spare horses behind them. At the far rear, he had men with long sticks to force the herds on when they wanted to stop and graze. They would get a chance to rest and eat when he was done with Lord Batu.
Bayar was able to judge the man he would face by the speed of his response to the incursion. He had to admit it was impressive how fast Batu’s tumans appeared. Even without the warning from yam lines, in a long- settled land with no close enemies, Bayar made barely ten miles across a valley of ice-rimed grass before he heard distant horns and saw black lines of galloping horses coming in fast. Kublai’s general watched in fascination as the numbers visible kept growing, pouring into the valley from two or three different directions. The Batu khanate was barely a generation old and he had no idea how many men could take the field against his incursion. He had planned for a single tuman of warriors, possibly two. By the time they had formed up in sold ranks, blocking his path, he suspected they almost equalled his force - some thirty thousand men ready to defend their master’s lands and people.
Kublai had been away from home too long, Bayar realised. When he had left for Sung lands, Batu’s khanate had barely registered in the politics of Karakorum. Yet Batu’s people had bred and taken in many more over the years. For the first time, Bayar considered that he might not be able to bring crushing force against the man. He had seen the way the tumans moved, recognising the shifting patterns of smaller jaguns and minghaans in the host. It was no wild horde he faced, but trained men, with bows and swords just like his own.
Bayar halted his tumans with a raised fist. He had been given a free hand by Kublai, but for the first time in years he felt his inexperience. These were his own people and he did not know instantly how to approach them as a hostile commander. He waited for a time in the front rank, then breathed in relief as a group detached on the other side and rode into a middle ground. They bore the red flags of the Golden Horde khanate, but also pure white banners. There was no one symbol for truce among the khanates, but white was gaining ascendancy and he could only hope they thought it meant the same as he did. Bayar gestured to his bondsmen.
‘Raise white banners. Two jaguns forward with me,’ he said, digging in his heels before they could move. He focused on the others as he rode forward - wondering if he could think of them yet as the enemy. There was an older man at their centre, surrounded by warriors in full armour with bows in their hands. Bayar headed for him, knowing his men would be forming behind him without further orders.
The tension seemed to swell in the air as his two hundred closed on the detachment. Bayar felt himself shudder slightly as he passed the point where he knew he was in arrow range. He wore layered scale armour in the Chin style, but he knew as well as any man alive that the long Mongol arrows could pierce it. He felt sweat trickle from his armpits and showed them only the cold face. Kublai depended on him.
At a hundred yards, Bayar wanted to call a halt, but it was too far to speak with whoever led them and he forced himself to ride on as if he didn’t face armed men able to send shafts down his throat at that distance. Batu’s detachment watched him come with no expression, though they shifted their bows in growing tension as he came to barely twenty paces. In the sudden silence, he could hear the banners in the wind, furling and snapping. He took a deep breath, controlling his nerves so his voice would be strong and steady.
‘Under flags of truce, I seek Lord Batu Borjigin,’ he shouted.
‘You have found him,’ the man at the centre responded. ‘Now why have you come onto my lands with tumans? Has the great khan declared war on my people?’
For an instant, Bayar fought not to smile. He faced death in a heartbeat and his physical reaction was to grin.
‘I do not know what the pretender is doing, my lord. I know Kublai Khan offers you peace in exchange for loyalty.’
Batu’s mouth fell slightly open. He spluttered as he spoke, his dignity forgotten.
‘What? Kublai Khan? Who are you to come here and talk of Kublai?’
Bayar laughed at the man’s confusion, finally letting out some of the tension in him.
‘Offer me guest rights in your camp, my lord. I have ridden a long way and my throat is dry.’
Batu stared at him for a moment that seemed endless, until Bayar’s threatening laughter grew still in him. The man was around fifty, Bayar judged, with hair that had gone dark grey and heavy lines around his mouth and eyes. He wondered if he resembled Genghis as he waited, memorising the face.
‘Very well, I grant you guest rights for this evening and no longer. Until I have heard what you have to say to me.’
Bayar relaxed slightly. He would never be completely safe, even after such an offer, but it was never given lightly. Until the following morning, Batu would be his host, even to the point of defending him if he were attacked. He dismounted and nodded to his men to do the same. Batu followed the action and came stalking over the frozen grass, his face full of curiosity.
‘Who are you?’ Batu demanded.
‘General Bayar, my lord. Officer to Kublai Khan.’
Batu shook his head in confusion.
‘Send your men away and have them camp in the valley two miles to the east. I won’t have them frightening my villages. There will be no looting, or contact with my people, general. Is that clear?’
‘I will give the orders, my lord,’ Bayar replied.
The older man seemed to be studying him, his expression still astonished. Bayar watched as felt rugs were laid out on the grass and tea put on to boil. He sent word back to his tumans and then settled himself. He only hoped he could find the right words to impress the man who sat across from him.
Batu waited until Bayar had taken a bowl of tea in his right hand and sipped it, tasting the salt.
‘Now explain, general. You know, I almost hope you are a madman. That would be a better thing than the news I think you have brought.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Samarkand was a beautiful city, with white mountains in the distance and walls so thick that three horsemen could ride abreast on the crown. Blue towers showed over the sand-coloured walls, but the great gates were closed. Kublai’s tumans had driven farmers and villagers ahead of them like geese, the crowd growing as they rode the last few miles. Unable to enter the city, they sat and wailed in front of it, raising their hands to those within. Kublai’s warriors ignored them.
All along the walls, armoured Mongols and Persians looked down in stupefaction. No army had besieged Samarkand since Genghis. Yet there were many still alive who remembered the horrors of that time. Hundreds, then thousands of the inhabitants climbed steps on the inside to stare at the tumans.
Kublai looked up at them, sitting comfortably on a thin horse as it nuzzled the ground for anything worth eating. His face and fingers still ached from the cold he had endured in the mountain passes. Though the sun was strong, he knew he would lose skin on his cheeks, already darker than the rest of his face as it began to peel and crack.
Zhenjin trotted his mount over to his father, though he did not speak as he too looked up at the great walls. Kublai smiled to see his son’s expression.
‘My grandfather took this city once, Zhenjin,’ he said.
‘
‘Catapults and siege,’ Kublai replied. ‘He did not have cannon then.’
‘We have no cannon, father,’ Zhenjin replied.
‘No, but if I must, I will have the men build heavy machines to break the walls. It will not be quick, but the city
