Kachiun bowed his head, relieved beyond words.

‘I will, brother,’ he said, then paused at the point of turning away. ‘Tsubodai will not fail. I used to think you mad for raising him, but he is the best I have ever seen.’

Genghis grunted.

‘The problem is, Kachiun, that I do not know if I want him to fail or to succeed.’

He saw Kachiun open his mouth to ask what he meant and Genghis waved him away irritably.

‘Go, brother. Teach these desert-dwellers not to interfere with me again.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Standing between two pillars of rock, Kachiun looked down into the Panjshir valley, seeing the tents and horses of Jelaudin’s army. The late morning was already hot and he was sweating and scratching idly at an armpit where a boil needed lancing. With Jelme and Khasar, he had ridden as hard as any scout, half-killing the horses to bring swift vengeance for the defeat at Parwan.

The army of Jelaudin knew the Mongols had come. Kachiun could see robed figures watching them from every peak, men who had climbed hand over hand up sheer rock to their positions. One of them was far above his head, out of reach of any arrow. Kachiun could not snatch them down and he was uncomfortable under that silent scrutiny. All the watchers were turned towards him and some of them signalled the army in the valley with flags, keeping Jelaudin informed.

There too, Kachiun could see evidence of a controlling mind, one who had learned from the enemy at last. The Arab camp was three miles across the river from the town of Parwan, on a stretch of open plain backed by mountains that rose like blades from the flat ground. The position allowed no ambush and could not be ridden around. It did not rely on walls, though Kachiun could see that stone blocks and wooden stakes had been dragged into position before the enemy camp, perfectly placed to foul a charge. Squares of tents fluttered in the morning breeze and, even as Kachiun watched, flag signals from the peaks brought men out into solid ranks. They showed their confidence in such a position, daring the Mongols to ride against them.

‘We must cross that river,’ Jelme said at Kachiun’s shoulder. ‘Now we know where they are, we can search for a ford.’

Kachiun had overall command of the three tumans and he nodded, still staring into the valley as Jelme sent scouts riding to find the best place across the barrier. He bit his lip at the thought, knowing that Jelaudin would have marked the fording places for a hundred miles. There was no chance for a surprise attack when the shah’s son knew exactly where they would come from. Still, they had to cross. Jelaudin had chosen the spot for the battle. He knew the land; he had the numbers and every other advantage that mattered. Once again, Kachiun wished Genghis had sent more men with him, this one time.

Kachiun squinted at the watcher far above him, hundreds of feet above his head. The man squatted in white robes, having climbed a face of rock that reached almost to a point. Kachiun resisted the urge to send warriors up to cut him down. The man may have taken days to reach the precarious position overlooking an entrance to the valley. If he had waterskins and supplies with him, he could defend it against climbing men for as long as he wanted.

His brother Khasar rode up to the front. Kachiun saw he too glared at the man on the heights.

‘We cannot sit here all day, brother,’ Khasar said as he reined in. ‘I could ride down and destroy that little town, at least. The Arabs might lose heart when they see the smoke rise.’

Kachiun looked over the valley. The minghaan officers who had been defeated had described the ground in great detail, pathetically eager to please after the shame of their loss. Kachiun could not see figures moving anywhere in the town and he assumed the people had retreated again to the fortress that loomed above the plain. If he’d thought there was the slightest point to it, he would have sent Khasar down like an arrow. Instead, he shook his head.

‘What is one more town, to us or them? When we have beaten this army, we can take that fortress as we please.’

Khasar shrugged at his reply and Kachiun went on, speaking his thoughts aloud to make them clear.

‘He is confident, Khasar, with the mountains at his back.’

‘He is a fool then,’ Khasar said lightly.

‘He is not a fool, brother. This man has seen us gut his father’s army. He knows our tactics and strengths, perhaps our weaknesses. See how he has placed blocks of stone to interrupt our lancers and bow lines. He is confident and that worries me.’

‘You think too much, Kachiun. When Jelme has found a way across the river, we will pin him against those hills. We will make an example of him.’

Kachiun nodded warily. Genghis had not demanded a quick victory, only that he take first blood from the enemy. Yet the first rule of war was to avoid letting the enemy choose the terrain and set the terms. Kachiun cracked the knuckles of his hands, then his neck, wishing Tsubodai was there for his insight.

It was not long before Jelme’s scouts returned, reporting a shallow ford barely five miles away along the river. Kachiun gave the order for the tumans to move and he could not help glancing up at the flicker of bright flags from one peak to the next as the movement was reported.

‘They come,’ Jelaudin murmured, reading the flags.

‘They have no choice,’ Nawaz replied.

Jelaudin glanced at the rajah from under lowered brows, hiding his amusement at this peacock he had made his second in command. Under his armour, the rajah was dressed in silk of purple and gold, topped by a turban of pale blue. To Jelaudin’s eyes, he looked as if he had been dressed by a prostitute or an actor, but he did not doubt the man’s resolve.

Once more, Jelaudin reviewed the lines of his men, though he had inspected them a thousand times. There were no flaws, he was certain. The mountains protected their rear, while heavy slabs from Parwan’s walls lay in clusters ahead, exactly where they would disrupt the Mongol riders. If the enemy had sent someone to the town, they would have found great sections of the walls missing, floated across the river on rafts of wood taken from homes. The people of that place had lost much for this defence, but they did not begrudge the sacrifice, not when the army had brought success against the unbelievers already. The fortress that sheltered them was too far away across the river for Jelaudin to see individual faces, but he knew they watched from the heights. They at least would have a spectacular view of the fighting to come.

‘We have until this afternoon, if they use the first ford across the river,’ Jelaudin said. ‘Let us walk among the men one more time. Some will be nervous and it will help them to see us calm and cheerful.’

His own eyes belied the casual tone, but Nawaz did not comment, merely ducking his head and dismounting to walk with him.

‘I had expected more than thirty thousand of them,’ Nawaz said as they passed between tents. ‘Are they so arrogant?’

Jelaudin nodded.

‘They are justified in their arrogance, my friend. They took my father’s army apart when he had three times their number. This will be a hard fight, even after all I have done.’

Nawaz blew air from his lips, showing his scorn for the idea.

‘I have emptied my treasury to give you the shields and armour you wanted. In turn, you have fired the men’s hearts.’ He saw Jelaudin glance at him and went on. ‘I am not a fool. You know them better than any man, but by tonight we will be burning piles of their dead.’

Jelaudin smiled at the rajah’s confidence. It was true that he knew the Mongols for the force in war that they were. He could hope for victory, but nothing in this life was guaranteed.