said that all caravans crossing the great steppe would pay taxes to the khahan of the Tuigan.” Koja paused, rubbing the stubble on his head nervously.
“Is that all?” Yamun queried. Chanar sat up straight, ready to protest.
“Oh, no,” Koja said hurriedly. “He also said that all kingdoms must offer you tribute or submit themselves to your rule.”
“It seemed quite clear to me, Great Lord,” Chanar offered.
Yamun nodded in agreement. “So, the caliph has not responded?”
“No, Yamun,” Chanar noted. “No word has come from Semphar.”
“Perhaps the caliph does not believe you have the power, Khahan,” suggested Koja. “After all, Semphar has a large army and many cities. Indeed the caliph is called the ‘Chosen Prince of Denier’ and the ‘Great Conqueror.’ “
“The ‘Great Conqueror’ will learn,” Yamun said grimly. “How many men does Hubadai have at present?”
“He has kept all his tumen, five of them, ready. I, myself, advised him to await your orders,” Chanar boasted.
“Did you?” Yamun commented. He smiled faintly, though any warmth in his expression was twisted by the scar across his lip. The lama could not decide if Yamun was being sarcastic or not. If he was, Chanar apparently did not notice.
“Yes, Yamun,” Chanar said proudly. The general sat up straighter and puffed his chest out.
“Scribe, send this to Hubadai,” Yamun ordered, settling back on his stool. “He’s to divide his command into three parts. He will lead one, and I’ll send commanders to lead the others. No man of his army will go hunting except for food, to save the horses. If a man breaks this law, the first time he will get three strokes of the rod. The second time, he will have three times three. The third time he will get three times times three times three. His men are to have two weeks of food ready at all times. The horses must have sufficient fodder on hand. He must be ready to go to war on the day he is ordered.” Koja wrote furiously, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire pace of Yamun’s order.
“His men must have their weapons ready,” the khahan continued. He signaled a servant to bring him a drink. “Each man must have two lances, two bows, and four hundred arrows. Any man who doesn’t will be beatenfive lashes of the rod. Any man whose horse is not ready will be beaten for the same. Any man who goes home to his family will be captured and given to his khan for punishment.”
Koja finished writing with a flourish. He held his brush poised, ready to resume writing.
“The morning audience is over,” Yamun abruptly announced. “Tonight there will be a feast to honor the safe return of Chanar Ong Kho. Let all who welcome his return attend.”
Chanar was stunned. Although pleased about the feast, he expected a longer meeting with the khahan. Always in the past he had enjoyed Yamun’s favor. Now, it seemed things had changed. Reluctantly, he stood to go, bowing to the khahan as he started to leave. Koja also got to his feet, wincing as his legs refused to unbend.
“Koja,” Yamun suddenly said, using the priest’s personal name for the first time, “I want you to stay. I’m curious about your prince.”
The priest waited as the khahan ordered, obedient if baffled. He also sensed Chanar’s dark looks behind him. The general stalked away, keeping his counsel to himself.
“I will go now, too, my husband,” Mother Bayalun pronounced. Yamun didn’t answer.
After Bayalun and Chanar had departed, the khahan ordered the servants to bring drinks, black kumiss for himself and hot wine for Koja. He once again lounged back on his stool. “Now, Koja of the Khazari, I’ve let you learn something of our plans. Perhaps now you can tell me what sort of man your Prince Ogandi is.” Yamun yawned.
Koja paused, uncertain of what to say. How much could he reveal without betraying his lord? How much did he owe to the khahan?
Down the slope, Mother Bayalun caught up with Chanar as
“Is that all?” Yamun queried. Chanar sat up straight, ready to protest.
“Oh, no,” Koja said hurriedly. “He also said that all kingdoms must offer you tribute or submit themselves to your rule.”
“It seemed quite clear to me, Great Lord,” Chanar offered.
Yamun nodded in agreement. “So, the caliph has not responded?”
“No, Yamun,” Chanar noted. “No word has come from Semphar.”
“Perhaps the caliph does not believe you have the power, Khahan,” suggested Koja. “After all, Semphar has a large army and many cities. Indeed the caliph is called the ‘Chosen Prince of Denier’ and the ‘Great Conqueror.’ “
“The ‘Great Conqueror’ will learn,” Yamun said grimly. “How many men does Hubadai have at present?”
“He has kept all his tumen, five of them, ready. I, myself, advised him to await your orders,” Chanar boasted.
“Did you?” Yamun commented. He smiled faintly, though any warmth in his expression was twisted by the scar across his lip. The lama could not decide if Yamun was being sarcastic or not. If he was, Chanar apparently did not notice.
“Yes, Yamun,” Chanar said proudly. The general sat up straighter and puffed his chest out.
“Scribe, send this to Hubadai,” Yamun ordered, settling back on his stool. “He’s to divide his command into three parts. He will lead one, and I’ll send commanders to lead the others. No man of his army will go hunting except for food, to save the horses. If a man breaks this law, the first time he will get three strokes of the rod. The second time, he will have three times three. The third time he will get three times times three times three. His men are to have two weeks of food ready at all times. The horses must have sufficient fodder on hand. He must be ready to go to war on the day he is ordered.” Koja wrote furiously, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire pace of Yamun’s order.
“His men must have their weapons ready,” the khahan continued. He signaled a servant to bring him a drink. “Each man must have two lances, two bows, and four hundred arrows. Any man who doesn’t will be beatenfive lashes of the rod. Any man whose horse is not ready will be beaten for the same. Any man who goes home to his family will be captured and given to his khan for punishment.”
Koja finished writing with a flourish. He held his brush poised, ready to resume writing.
“The morning audience is over,” Yamun abruptly announced. “Tonight there will be a feast to honor the safe return of Chanar Ong Kho. Let all who welcome his return attend.”
Chanar was stunned. Although pleased about the feast, he expected a longer meeting with the khahan. Always in the past he had enjoyed Yamun’s favor. Now, it seemed things had changed. Reluctantly, he stood to go, bowing to the khahan as he started to leave. Koja also got to his feet, wincing as his legs refused to unbend.
“Koja,” Yamun suddenly said, using the priest’s personal name for the first time, “I want you to stay. I’m curious about your prince.”
The priest waited as the khahan ordered, obedient if baffled. He also sensed Chanar’s dark looks behind him. The general stalked away, keeping his counsel to himself.
“I will go now, too, my husband,” Mother Bayalun pronounced. Yamun didn’t answer.
After Bayalun and Chanar had departed, the khahan ordered the servants to bring drinks, black kumiss for himself and hot wine for Koja. He once again lounged back on his stool. “Now, Koja of the Khazari, I’ve let you learn something of our plans. Perhaps now you can tell me what sort of man your Prince Ogandi is.” Yamun yawned.
Koja paused, uncertain of what to say. How much could he reveal without betraying his lord? How much did he owe to the khahan?
Down the slope, Mother Bayalun caught up with Chanar as
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