CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Jelaudin stared down a forty-foot drop to the swollen river Indus, the great artery that fed a continent for a thousand miles further south and more. The hills around the banks were green, lush with ancient acacia trees and wild olives. He could smell the scent of flowers on the breeze. Small birds flew in all directions, singing warnings as his army gathered. It was a place of life, but the water ran fast and deep, so that the Indus may as well have been a city wall. The region of Peshawar lay just a short distance beyond the river and Jelaudin turned in fury to the young rajah who stood with him, gazing stricken at the empty banks.
‘Where are the boats you promised me?’ Jelaudin said.
Nawaz gestured weakly with his hands, at a loss. They had driven men and horses to exhaustion to reach the river, knowing that when they crossed, the Mongols could not follow for months, if at all. India was an unknown land to the Mongol khan and if he dared to set foot there, a hundred princes would answer with armies greater than he had ever seen. Jelaudin had planned to take his victories like jewels among the princes, so that he could return with an even greater force. He could not help looking back at the dust cloud in the distance, rising into the air like an omen.
Without warning, Jelaudin took hold of the rajah’s silk jacket and shook him furiously.
‘Where are the boats?’ he yelled into his face. Nawaz was pale with fear and Jelaudin let him go just as quickly, so that he almost fell.
‘I don’t know,’ the rajah stammered. ‘My father…’
‘Would he leave you to die here?’ Jelaudin demanded. ‘With your own lands so close?’ He felt a mounting hysteria and it was hard to resist striking the foolish young prince who had promised so much.
‘Perhaps they are still coming,’ Nawaz said.
Jelaudin almost growled at him, but he nodded. Within moments, he had riders galloping south along the banks, searching for the fleet of merchant traders that would carry them to safety. He did not dare look at the dust cloud in the distance, knowing the Mongols would be there, coming like wolves with iron teeth to tear him apart.
Genghis rode at a light canter, staring ahead. His eyes had weakened further, so that he could not trust them for long distances. Instead, he had Ogedai call out a constant description of the army they faced. His son’s voice was tight with excitement.
‘They have gathered on the banks of the river. I see horses, perhaps ten thousand or more on the right wing facing us, their left.’ Ogedai paused, squinting. ‘I see… ranks forming around the centre. They are turning to face us. I can’t see beyond the river yet.’
Genghis nodded. If Jelaudin had been given a few clear days, he might have taken his men to safety. Instead, the hardship of the pace Genghis had set showed its worth. He had caught the prince on this side of the river. It would do. The khan turned in the saddle to his closest scout.
‘Take this message to general Kachiun. I will hold the centre with Jebe and Ogedai. Kachiun will have the right wing, with Khasar, against their cavalry. Tell him he can give them back the defeat at Panjshir and I will not accept less. Now go.’
Another scout took the young man’s place as the first rode away. The second was ready and Genghis went on. ‘Generals Jelme and Tolui will swing wide on my left. I want the enemy held tight in one place against the river. Their task is to block any line of retreat to the north.’ Tolui’s tuman was still too young to be sent in against veteran soldiers. Holding the army in place would be honourable enough for hardly blooded men. Jelme would not enjoy the task, but Genghis knew he would obey. The tumans would sweep in against Jelaudin’s army in three places, pinning them against the Indus.
Genghis slowed his approach as the lines formed, turning his head left and right to watch the tumans match his pace. Ogedai called out as new details came clear in the distance, but Genghis heard nothing to interfere with the swelling sense of anticipation in his chest. He recalled the presence of his grandsons among the spare horses and sent another scout racing back to be sure they were kept out of the fighting.
He came in slowly until he could see the enemy ranks as clearly as Ogedai and silenced his son with a wave of his hand. Jelaudin had picked the site of the last battle. He had not been able to choose the ground for this one.
Genghis drew his sword, holding it high as his men waited for the signal to charge. The army on the river banks would know better than to surrender, he knew. The prince had gambled everything when he had returned from the Caspian Sea and he had nowhere else to run. Genghis saw the tumans of Jelme and Tolui moving ahead of the main lines, ready to cut off and hold the left wing. On his right, Kachiun and Khasar matched the manoeuvre so that the Mongols rode as an empty cup, with Genghis at the deepest part. They faced sixty thousand fanatical followers and Genghis saw them raise their swords as one, waiting for him. With the river at their back, they would fight for every foot of ground.
Genghis leaned forward in the saddle, pulling back dry lips to show his teeth. He dropped his arm and the tumans surged forward, kicking their mounts into a gallop.
Jelaudin stared at the lines of Mongol riders who dragged the dust of the mountains with them. His hands shook in rage and frustration as he looked again at the empty river. The far bank and safety were so close it hurt to think of it. He could swim the waters, despite their fierce flow, but most of his men had never learned the trick. For desperate moments, he considered shedding his armour and leading them into the river, away from the death he saw coming. They would follow, he knew, trusting in Allah to keep them safe. It was impossible. For those who had grown to manhood in the Afghan hills, in deserts and cities, deep water was a rare sight. They would drown in their thousands as they entered the swift current.
He saw many faces turned to him, looking for some words of encouragement as the hated enemy formed horns on either wing. His brothers were there among them, their faces bright with faith. Jelaudin fought with despair.
‘We have shown they can be beaten!’ he bellowed to them. ‘They are many, but not so many that we cannot gut them again. Kill this khan for me and you will know paradise. Let Allah guide your swords and let no man turn away from the fight so that he cannot face God with pride. They are just men!’
he shouted. ‘Let them come. We will show them this land is not to be taken.’
Those who heard turned back to the Mongol khan with new fire in their eyes. They raised shields and curved swords as the ground trembled under their feet.
At full gallop, Genghis slashed down with his sword. Arrows came in a ripple down the lines on either side, slightly delayed as each tuman registered the command and loosed. Ahead, he saw Jelaudin’s ranks drop to a crouch, holding the shields high. Genghis grunted irritably, sending another volley buzzing towards them. Many of Jelaudin’s men survived the first and then rose to their feet too soon, so that the second flight of shafts caught them. Arrows that could punch through an iron scale rocked them back.
The tumans on his wings jammed their bows onto saddle hooks, drawing swords as they reached the enemy. On his right, ahead of him, Genghis saw the tumans of Kachiun and Khasar smash into the standing lines, while Tolui and Jelme drew up almost on the river banks on his left. From there, they loosed shaft after shaft in a constant hail. Arabs fell, struck from the side as they raised their shields blindly to the front.
Genghis smelled the river and the fear sweat of thousands of men as he raced his mount straight at the centre. He hoped he would find the prince there, waiting for him. Jelaudin’s men were ten deep, but the Mongol ponies had been trained for such an assault and did not hesitate as they plunged into them. Genghis swept through the first three ranks, swinging his sword as men were knocked down by the impact. With his knees, he turned the mount on the spot, feeling the solid connection as she kicked and sent someone reeling. A wedge of his best warriors came with him, protecting the khan with their ferocity as they cut their way into the mass.