never seen a dog the size of that one and he wondered where Tsubodai had found it. It watched him all the way in and Batu was very aware of it as he dismounted slowly, with no sudden movements.
‘I am looking for Orlok Tsubodai,’ Batu said.
He could hear a low growl at his back and it was hard not to glance over his shoulder. A smile twitched at the woman’s mouth as she regarded him.
‘Perhaps he doesn’t want to see you, nameless one,’ she replied cheerfully.
Batu flushed. ‘He knows me well. I was with him in the west. My name is Batu, son to Jochi.’
A shadow passed over her face at that name, as if she had heard it many times. She looked deeply into his eyes, searching for something.
‘I wouldn’t touch a weapon if I were you. The dog will rip your throat out.’
‘I’m not here for revenge,’ Batu said. ‘I made my peace a long time ago.’
‘I’m glad one of you has,’ she said.
Her eyes flickered behind him and Batu turned, convinced the hound was creeping up on him. Instead, he saw Tsubodai leading a horse on foot, coming out of a straggling stand of trees not far away. Batu was surprised by the feeling of relief that swept over him. Once, he had hated the man, but then in those days he had hated many. In time, he had learned to respect him. Batu did not examine his own feelings in too much detail, but in many ways he thought of Tsubodai as a father. It was not something he had ever said. Simply to see Tsubodai alive and apparently well was a ray of light in his current mood. Nothing seemed as hard if you had Tsubodai on your side. If that was true, of course. Batu was still not at all certain how he would be received.
Those thoughts passed quickly through his mind as Tsubodai came closer. The old man whistled to his dog and Batu watched as the savage animal rose and ran to him, suddenly puppyish in its enthusiasm, so that it wagged its entire body rather than just its stump of a tail. Tsubodai walked with one hand loosely wrapped in a rein and the other reaching out to ruffle the dog’s great head. He was not smiling as he looked from Batu to his wife.
‘Have you offered him tea?’
‘Not yet,’ his wife said. ‘I thought I’d leave it up to you.’
‘Good. Be on your way then, Batu. I have nothing to say to you.’
Batu waited, but as far as Tsubodai was concerned, the conversation was clearly at an end. Tsubodai walked past him, clicking his tongue to keep the dog close.
‘I came a very long way to see you, orlok,’ Batu said.
‘I’ve left titles like that behind me,’ Tsubodai shot over his shoulder. ‘I am retired.’
‘I’m not here to ask you to lead, old man, just to ask for your advice.’
Tsubodai paused in the action of ducking down through his ger door. ‘Goodbye,’ he said without looking up.
Batu watched in frustration as Tsubodai vanished into the gloomy interior, taking his dog with him. Batu turned helplessly to face Tsubodai’s wife, still standing there with the same wry smile. Her child-bearing years were surely behind her, but she looked vaguely maternal as her gaze swept over the disappointed young man.
‘I don’t like to see a visitor turned away with nothing,’ she said. ‘Will you take salt tea?’
Batu heard a grunt of irritation from inside the ger. The walls were thin enough for Tsubodai to hear every word.
‘It would be an honour,’ Batu replied.
He was still there as the evening came in. Tsubodai didn’t seem too troubled by his presence. The old man had contented himself with a silent glare, repairing a bow while Batu sat making polite conversation for some hours. He had learned the name of Tsubodai’s wife, at least. Ariuna was a pleasant woman and once she had relaxed, she was fascinated by the news he brought. Even Tsubodai snorted when Batu talked of the lands he had been given in Ogedai’s will. At a stroke of an ink brush, Ogedai had awarded him a vast fiefdom in Russia. Knowing Tsubodai was listening closely, Batu told Ariuna that part of it had once been his father’s, after leaving Genghis behind him. He had felt Tsubodai’s gaze on him then, knowing the old man’s memories would still be sharp. Batu had not looked up and, after a time, Tsubodai went back to his pots of boiling water, horn and glue.
As the sun set, Tsubodai rose, stretching his back with a groan.
‘I have to check the animals,’ he said to his wife.
Batu looked at his feet, and it was not until Ariuna said ‘Go after him, then!’ that he stood up with a grin and went out. Women were sometimes vital when it came to men talking.
He found Tsubodai with the dog, which turned and bared its teeth at him until Tsubodai checked it with a word. Together, he and Batu tested the ties holding a small corral together, before going on to feel the womb of a goat very close to giving birth. The silence between them was comfortable, much better than when he had sat in Tsubodai’s home as an unwanted guest. Outside, the old man seemed to relax a little and he gestured for Batu to examine the goat. Batu nodded as he pressed his fingers around the unborn shape.
‘Not long now,’ was his verdict. ‘She seems happy enough.’
‘She is,’ Tsubodai said, straightening up. ‘And so am I. Life is hard, Batu, but it can at least be simple. It is simple here.’
Age had made him thinner than Batu remembered, but there was still a presence to him. No one would ever mistake Tsubodai for a herder, no matter where they found him. His eyes had seen empires rise and fall. They had seen Genghis as a young man.
Batu did not reply. After a time, Tsubodai sighed and rested his hands on the wooden bar of the corral.
‘So tell me what has brought you so many miles. I warn you, I know nothing of the politics in Karakorum. I have no net of spies any longer, if that’s what you’re hoping.’
‘It’s not. I just want the advice of someone I can trust.’
As Ariuna had earlier, Tsubodai searched his eyes with his own and subsided, tension drifting out of him.
‘Ask, boy. I don’t know if you will like my answer.’
Batu took a deep breath.
‘You know Guyuk as well as anyone.’ Tsubodai said nothing, so he went on. ‘Did you know the new khan has not yet been chosen?’
The old man nodded. ‘I’m not in a desert. I heard that much, at least.’
‘It has to be Guyuk, or Mongke, or Baidur … or me. We are the only four in reach, and Mongke pledged his word years ago, when he heard Ogedai had died. He will support Guyuk.’
Tsubodai scratched the side of his jaw. ‘It’s done, then. Throw in with Mongke and Guyuk. Baidur will follow along, once he knows you are together. Guyuk will be khan and I will be left alone.’
‘Is that what you would do?’ Batu asked seriously.
Tsubodai laughed, an unpleasant, bitter sound.
‘Me?
