that is between him and us.’
Eeluk shook his head again, and Temujin saw the flash of spite in his eyes. He had never liked his father’s bondsman, though he could not have said why. There was malice in Eeluk’s voice as he went on.
‘Your mother almost lost the child through worrying about the rest of you,’ he said.
His eyes demanded Temujin lower his gaze, but instead the boy felt a slow anger building. Riding with eagles next to his chest gave him courage. He knew his father would forgive them anything once he saw the birds. Temujin raised a hand to stop the others and even Bekter reined in with him, unable just to ride on. Eeluk too was forced to turn his pony back to them, his face dark with irritation.
‘You will not ride with us, Eeluk. Go back,’ Temujin said. He saw the warrior stiffen and shook his head, deliberately. ‘Today we ride only with eagles,’ Temujin said, his face revealing nothing of his inner amusement.
His brothers grinned around him, enjoying the secret and the frown that troubled Eeluk’s hard features. The man looked to Bekter and saw that he was staring into nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Then he snorted. ‘Your father will beat some humility into your thick skins,’ he said, his face mottling with anger.
Temujin looked calmly at the older man, and even his pony was absolutely still.
‘No. He will not. One of us will be khan one day, Eeluk. Think of that and go back, as I told you. We will come in alone.’
‘Go,’ Bekter said, suddenly, his voice deeper than any of his brothers.
Eeluk looked as if he had been struck. His eyes were hidden as he spun his mount, guiding only with his knees. He did not speak again, but at last he nodded sharply and rode away, leaving them alone and shaking with an odd release of tension. They had not been in danger, Temujin was almost certain. Eeluk was not fool enough to draw steel on Yesugei’s sons. At worst, he might have thrashed them and made them walk back. Still, it felt as if a battle had been won and Temujin sensed Bekter’s gaze on his neck the whole way to the river and his father’s people.
They smelled the tang of urine on the wind before they saw the gers. After spending winter in the shadow of Deli’un-Boldakh, the scent had sunk into the soil in a great ring around the families. There was only so far a man was willing to walk in the dark, after all. Still, it was home.
Eeluk had dismounted near their father’s ger, obviously waiting to see them punished. Temujin enjoyed the skulking man’s interest in them and kept his head high. Khasar and Kachiun took their lead from him, though Temuge was distracted by the smell of cooking mutton and Bekter assumed his usual sullen expression.
Yesugei came out as he heard their ponies whinny a welcome to the others in the herd. He wore his sword on his hip and a deel robe of blue and gold that reached down to his knees. His boots and trousers were clean and well brushed and he seemed to stand even taller than usual. His face showed no anger, but they knew he prided himself on the mask that all warriors had to learn. For Yesugei it was no more than the habit of a lifetime to assess his sons as they rode up to him. He took note of the way Temujin protected something at his chest and the barely controlled excitement in all of them. Even Bekter was struggling not to show pleasure and Yesugei began to wonder what his boys had brought back.
He saw too that Eeluk hovered nearby, pretending to brush down his pony. This from a bondsman who let his mare’s tail grow thick with mud and thorns. Yesugei knew Eeluk well enough to sense his sour mood was directed at the boys rather than himself. He would have shrugged if he had not adopted a warrior’s stillness. As it was, he dismissed Eeluk’s concerns from his mind.
Khasar and Kachiun dismounted in such a way that Temujin was hidden for a moment. Yesugei watched closely and saw in a flash that Temujin’s tunic was moving. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation. Still, he would not make it too easy for them.
‘You have a sister, though the birth was harder for your absence. Your mother was almost blood lost with fear for you.’
They did lower their gazes at that. He frowned, tempted to thrash each one of them for their selfishness.
‘We were at the red hill,’ Kachiun murmured, quailing under his father’s gaze. ‘Temuge saw an eagle there and we climbed for the nest.’
Yesugei’s heart soared at the news. There could only be one thing squirming at Temujin’s breast, but he hardly dared hope for it. No one in the tribe had caught an eagle for three generations or more, not since the Wolves had come down from the far west. The birds were more valuable than a dozen fine stallions, not least for the meat they could bring from hunting.
‘You have the bird?’ Yesugei said to Temujin, taking a step forward.
The boy could not hold back his excitement any longer and he grinned, standing proudly as he fished around inside his tunic.
‘Kachiun and I found two,’ he said.
His father’s cold face broke at this and he showed his teeth, very white against his dark skin and wispy beard.
Gently, the two birds were brought out and placed in their father’s hands, squalling as they came into the light. Temujin felt the loss of their heat next to his skin as soon as they were clear. He looked at the red bird with an owner’s eyes, watching every movement.
Yesugei could not find words. He saw that Eeluk had come closer to see the chicks and he held them up, his face alight with interest. He turned to his sons.
‘Go in and see your mother, all of you. Make your apologies for frightening her and welcome your new sister.’
Temuge was through the door of the ger before his father had finished speaking and they all heard Hoelun’s cry of pleasure at seeing her youngest son. Kachiun and Khasar followed, but Temujin and Bekter remained where they were.
‘One is a little smaller than the other,’ Temujin said, indicating the birds. He was desperate not to be dismissed. ‘There is a touch of red to his feathers and I have been calling him the red bird.’
‘It is a good name,’ Yesugei confirmed.
Temujin cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. ‘I had hoped to keep him, the red bird. As there are two.’
Yesugei looked blankly at his son. ‘Hold out your arm,’ he said.
Temujin raised his arm to the shoulder, puzzled. Yesugei held the pair of trussed chicks in the crook of one arm and used the other to press against Temujin’s hand, forcing his arm down.
‘They weigh as much as a dog, when they are grown. Could you hold a dog on your wrist? No. This is a great gift and I thank you for it. But the red bird is not for a boy, even a son of mine.’
Temujin felt tears prickle his eyes as his morning’s dreams were trampled. His father seemed oblivious to his anger and despair as he called Eeluk over.
To Temujin’s eye, Eeluk’s smile was sly and unpleasant as he came to stand by them.
‘You have been my first warrior,’ Yesugei said to the man. ‘The red bird is yours.’
Eeluk’s eyes widened with awe. He took the bird reverently, the boys forgotten. ‘You honour me,’ he said, bowing his
