'I should have my wife and daughters brought back to the palace, Sorhatani. They are at the summer house on the Orkhon.'

Sorhatani considered for a moment.

'You are still unwell, my lord. I think I should wait a few days before restoring your family and servants. We will take it slowly.'

For a short time, she would be the only one with the ear of the khan. With his seal, she could have her son Mongke join Tsubodai on the great trek, where the future was being written. She was not ready to throw that influence away so quickly.

Ogedai nodded, unable to resist her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The ground was covered in autumn frost and the horses snorted white mist as Mongke rode past yet another pair of Tsubodai's scouts, He was already in awe of the general, but nothing had prepared him for taking ten thousand warriors through the man's trail of destruction. From beyond the Volga river, for hundreds of miles west, towns and villages had been looted or destroyed. He had passed the site of three major battles, still marked with a host of birds and small animals made bold at the presence of so much rotting flesh. The odour seemed to have seeped into him, so that Mongke could smell it on every breeze.

He saw scouts galloping ahead of him for days before he caught sight of the main Mongol army. It had spent the summer in an encampment equal to Karakorum as it had been before the khan's city was built. It was a host of white gers, a peaceful scene of morning fires and vast herds of horses in the distance. Mongke shook his head in silent wonder as he trotted closer.

His banners had been recognised, of course, but still Tsubodai sent a minghaan out to meet him before the tuman was in striking distance of the main camp. Mongke accepted the silent scrutiny of the orlok's men. He recognised their officer and saw the man nod to himself. Mongke knew then that Tsubodai had sent a man who could confirm his identity by sight. He watched with fascination as the officer gestured to a companion who raised a long brass tube to his lips. The note blared out and Mongke looked around in astonishment as it was answered to the left and right. Horses and men appeared less than a mile away on both sides. Tsubodai had sent out a flanking force to contain him, lying with their horses concealed in trees and behind a ridge of ground. It went some way to explain how the ice general had fought his way so far from home.

By the time they reached the main camp, a space had been cleared, a vast empty field with access to a small river. Mongke was nervous.

'Show them the cold face,' he said quietly to himself.

As his tuman fell into the routines of the camp and began to set up gers with quick efficiency, Mongke dismounted. His ten thousand and the horses they brought needed land the size of a large town just to rest. Tsubodai had prepared for their arrival.

He turned sharply at a cry of pleasure to see his uncle Kachiun walking over the torn grass. He looked much older than when Mongke had last seen him and he limped heavily. Mongke watched him with a guarded expression, but gripped his hand when Kachiun held it out.

'I have been waiting for days to see you,' Kachiun said. 'Tsubodai will want to hear news of home this evening. You are invited to his ger as a guest. You will have fresh information.' He smiled at the young man his nephew had become. 'I understand your mother has sources our scouts can't match.'

Mongke tried to hide his confusion. Karakorum was three thousand miles to the east. It had taken him four months of hard travel to reach the general. There had been times over the previous month when Tsubodai was moving so fast he thought he would never catch up with him. If the general had not stopped for a season to refresh his herds and men, Mongke would still have been travelling. Yet Kachiun spoke as if Karakorum was just over the next valley.

'You are well informed, uncle,' Mongke said after a pause. 'I do have a number of letters from home.'

'Anything for me?'

'Yes, uncle. I have letters from two of your wives as well as the khan.'

'Excellent, I'll take those now then.'

Kachiun rubbed his hands together in anticipation and Mongke suppressed a smile as he realised it was the main reason for his uncle coming to greet him in such a way. Perhaps they were not too busy to want fresh news of home. He crossed to his pony as it munched on ice-rimed grass and he opened the saddlebags, pulling out a sheaf of greasy yellow parchments.

Kachiun looked around him as Mongke sorted through them.

'You would not have brought your father's tuman to protect letters, Mongke. You are staying then?'

Mongke thought of the efforts his mother had made to have Ogedai assign her oldest son to this army. She believed that the future of the nation lay in the battle honours he could win there, that whoever returned from the sweep west would have a hand on the reins of fate. He wondered if she was correct.

'With the permission of Orlok Tsubodai, yes,' he said, handing over the letters marked for his uncle.

Kachiun smiled as he took them and clapped his nephew on the shoulder. 'You are dusty and tired, I see. Rest and eat while your gers are constructed. I will see you tonight.'

Both Mongke and Kachiun looked up as another rider came trotting across the camp towards them.

Men covered the entire valley floor, the camp and its smoky fires stretching away as far as Mongke could see. With the constant need for water, food, wood, toilet pits and the thousand details of simply living, it was a place of constant bustle and movement. Children ran around, yelling and pretending to be warriors. Women watched them indulgently while they worked at a thousand different tasks. Real warriors trained or just stood guard over the herds.

Through them all, Tsubodai rode with his eyes fixed on Mongke, his pace brisk. He wore a new set of scale armour, clean and well oiled, so that it moved easily with him. His horse was copper-brown, almost red in the sunlight. The orlok looked neither left nor right as he rode.

It was an effort for Mongke to hold his gaze. He saw Tsubodai frown slightly, and then the general dug in his heels and increased his speed, bringing the pony up quickly so that it stood blowing and pawing the ground.

'You are welcome in my camp, general,' Tsubodai said, giving Mongke his official title with no hesitation.

Mongke bowed calmly. He was aware that he owned the rank only because his mother seemed to have a hold on the khan. Yet his father's sacrifice had raised the son and that was only right. He had ridden in war against the Chin. He would do better with Tsubodai, he was certain.

As if in echo of his thoughts, Tsubodai looked over the tuman from Karakorum.

'I was sorry to hear of your father's death,' Tsubodai said. 'He was a fine man. We can certainly use you here.' The orlok was obviously pleased at the sight of so many additional warriors. It brought his tumans up to six, with almost as many again in his auxiliaries. Surely the sky father smiled on this campaign.

'You have a month or two yet before we move,' Tsubodai went on. 'We must wait for the rivers to freeze solid. After that, we will ride against the city of Moscow.'

'In winter?' Mongke said, before he could stop himself. To his relief, Tsubodai only chuckled.

'Winter is our time. They shut up their cities for the cold months. They put their horses in stables and sit around great fires in enormous houses of stone. If you want a bearskin, do you attack in summer when it is strong and fast, or cut its throat as it sleeps? We can stand the cold, Mongke. I took Riazan and Kolomna in winter. Your men will join the patrols and training immediately. It will keep them busy.'

Tsubodai nodded to Kachiun, who bowed as the orlok clicked in his cheek and trotted the red horse away.