how they keep formation.’
Jochi glanced sideways as he replied.
‘Frightening, aren’t they?’
Jebe chuckled.
‘Do not be afraid, Jochi. I am here now.’
Jochi snorted, though in fact he was afraid. His father’s army could be swallowed up in so many and he could not see a weakness in the dark lines.
Both men were aware that they had been spotted almost as soon as they showed themselves on the ridge. Riders were racing up and down the shah’s lines and the Mongol generals watched with interest, learning everything they could. There was much they did not understand. Though Jebe had heard elephants described, the reality of seeing those huge animals looming over the riders was intimidating. The great heads looked armoured in bone as well as glittering metal. If they could be made to charge, he could not see how to stop them.
As Jebe turned to point out a detail to Jochi, a vast host of Arab horsemen broke away from the main column and formed up in swirling dust. Horn calls brought the rest to a halt and, even in that, they could see the discipline of the shah’s men. Jebe and Jochi looked at each other in wild surmise.
‘They are going to attack us!’ Jebe said. ‘You should withdraw, Jochi, and take word to your father. Everything we have seen here will be useful in the days to come.’
Jochi shook his head. His father would not look kindly on him if he simply left. The information could be carried by a single scout and they had not come to the shah’s lands to retreat before his armies.
Jochi felt a pang of resentment that Jebe was with him. He had come a long way to lead his warriors and it did not sit well with him to defer to a more senior man.
‘We have the high ground at least,’ Jochi said. He remembered the Russian knights who had laboured up a hill at him and knew the worth of such an advantage. In the distance, the massive Arab formations kicked into a fast trot and Jochi felt a sudden panic. He knew he could not lead the tuman straight at the enemy horsemen. There were easier ways to waste lives. He considered a running blow that would lead the Arabs out along the plain. His men were fit as only Mongols knew fitness, but he did not know if the Chin soldiers in his ranks would fall behind and be destroyed.
Jebe seemed blithely unaware of Jochi’s whirling thoughts as he spoke.
‘They will have to come straight up at us, with their shah watching. They will not know how many men we have behind this ridge. I should think they are as surprised as we are to meet in this place, so far from Otrar or the khan. Can you get around to the flank?’
Jochi looked into the distance before nodding. Jebe smiled as if they merely discussed a wrestling match or a wager.
‘Then that will be the plan. I will wait until they have tired themselves riding up, then fall like a mountain on their heads. You will come from the flank and cut a wedge through to the centre. Your lances will be useful there, I think.’
Jochi looked down the steep slope.
‘It is only a shame that we do not have rocks to roll into them,’ he said.
Jebe nodded, surprised.
‘That is an excellent idea! I would give my second wife for pots of oil to roll down as well, but I will see what I can find.’
For an instant, both men sensed the strain in the other and exchanged a glance that had none of the lightness of their words.
‘We cannot take so many if they are as good as their weapons and armour,’ Jochi said. ‘I will hit the flank, but then pull back and let them follow me far from the main force.’
‘Is that Tsubodai’s voice I hear?’ Jebe asked.
Jochi did not smile.
‘It is my voice, general. I will run them to exhaustion, well away from their reinforcements.’
Jebe bowed his head to the khan’s son. He did not mention that almost half of Jochi’s tuman were of Chin stock. Though they rode hardy Mongol ponies, they would not have the endurance of men born to the saddle.
‘Good luck, general,’ he called as he turned his mount.
Jochi did not reply, already issuing orders to his men. Ten thousand of those behind the ridge gathered quickly and rode east to get around the steep slope. It would not be easy to charge over the loose shale, and Jebe honestly did not know which of them had the hardest task.
Khalifa Al-Nayhan was a worried man as he rode up the hill, his fine gelding already labouring in the heat and dust. He had grown up in those very mountains and knew the ridge he was assaulting. The shah had given the order and he had formed his men without hesitation, but his stomach felt hollow. After the first shock of seeing Mongol scouts hundreds of miles from where they should have been, Shah Mohammed had settled into a fury Khalifa knew he could maintain for days or weeks. It was not a time to suggest that they wait for better terrain.
Khalifa urged his mount on over the broken ground, looking up at the ridge that seemed far above his head. Perhaps it was no more than a scout camp at the top. By the time he arrived, they might well have galloped away and then at least the shah would be satisfied. No one knew how these savage Mongols had made a Chin emperor kneel, and the shah needed quick victories to reassure his chieftains.
Khalifa shook the loose thoughts out of his head as he rode, feeling sweat sting his eyes. The summer had been mild so far, but climbing to the ridge was hard work. He trusted the men around him, many of them from his own tribe of desert warriors. The shah had spared nothing in outfitting them for war and, though the new armour and shields were heavy, Khalifa felt the confidence they brought. They were picked men: the first into every battle, the breakers of walls and armies. He felt his bow slapping against his thigh, but they could not bring arrows to bear while riding up such a slope. Once more, he thought of the shah watching and shook his head against weak thoughts. They would win or they would be killed. It was all the same to Allah.
At the steepest point of the slope, Khalifa knew they were committed. The horses plunged on, but the ground was even softer than he remembered and progress was painfully slow. Khalifa felt exposed and made his peace with God as he drew the curved shamsher sabre that had served him for many years. With his left hand, he raised his shield and rode only with his feet in the stirrups. Like many of his men, he secretly despised the metal footholders that made it hard to dismount quickly. Yet they showed their use on such a slope, when he needed both hands for his weapons. A quick tap on his boot showed him his dagger was still there in the leather sheath and he leaned forward into the warm breeze that came over the ridge.
In time of peace, civilisation had no place for butchers like him, but they were still needed, and would always be needed, when the jewelled cities and green parks were threatened. Khalifa had escaped two murder charges by joining the army and assuming a new name. It was what he did best. Sometimes he was paid and other times hunted, depending on how and when he practised his skills. Riding with his men into the teeth of the enemy was what he loved. The shah was watching and if they bloodied their swords, there would be rewards of women and gold for the commanders.
‘Hold the line straight, Ali, or I will see you whipped!’ Khalifa roared across his men. He saw dust still rising from the ridge and knew the enemy had not run. He could hardly see in the clouds that his own men
