Batu's tuman swept over the remnants of the wing and on past the stockade walls. He had a glimpse of the great gates opening, but then it was behind him and he was chasing an enemy half-hanging out of his saddle as he tried to get away. The Mongol warriors hooted as they rode, calling out prime targets to each other. Batu could feel their pride and pleasure as they nodded to him. This was the best of times, when the enemy were in disarray and could be hunted like a herd of deer. As the gates swung open, Pavel was shoved out into the bright light, the snow making the dawn blinding. He blinked in confusion and fear. There were too many voices shouting. He could not make sense of any of it. He drew his sword and marched forward, but the man in front of him stopped suddenly, the one who had spoken earlier.

'Keep moving!' Pavel said.

Already, he was being shoved from behind. The man with the broken teeth hawked and spat as he stared out at the Mongol army riding towards them. The lances came down in a line.

'Jesus Christ save us,' the man muttered and Pavel did not know if it was a prayer or a curse. He heard the men behind him begin a martial shout, trying to spur each other on, but it was thin on the wind and Pavel felt his hands weaken, his stomach clench.

The Mongol line grew larger, bringing with them a swelling vibration of the ground beneath their feet. They could all feel it and many of them turned to each other. The officers were shouting, pointing to the Mongols, red in the face and spraying spittle in their urging. The column still moved, unable to stop as those behind pressed them out into the snow. Pavel tried to slow his steps, but he was shoved by men as reluctant as he was.

'For the duke!' one of the officers shouted. A few took up the cry, but their voices were feeble and they soon fell silent. The Mongol tuman came on, a line of darkness that would sweep them all away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kachiun heard the laughter before the group was even in sight. He winced as his bad leg throbbed. An old wound had suppurated in the thigh and he had to drain it twice a day, according to Tsubodai's Moslem healer. It didn't seem to help. The wound had troubled him for months, flaring up without warning. It made him feel old to approach the young officers limping like a cripple. He was old, of course. Limping or not, they would have made him feel his years.

He heard Guyuk's voice rise above the others, telling some story of Batu's triumphs. Kachiun sighed to himself as he walked past a final ger. The noise stopped for a moment as Guyuk spotted him. The others turned to see what had caught the young man's attention.

'The tea has just boiled, general,' Guyuk called cheerfully. 'You're welcome to share a cup with us, or something stronger if you prefer.' The others laughed as if this was a great jest and Kachiun repressed his grimace. He had been young too, once.

The four of them were sprawled around like young lions and Kachiun grunted as he lowered himself to the mat of felt, easing his leg out carefully. Batu noticed the swollen thigh, of course. That one missed nothing.

'How is the leg, general?'

'Full of pus,' Kachiun snapped.

Batu's face closed at his tone, shuttering his emotions away. Kachiun cursed himself. A little pain and sweating and there he was, snapping at boys like a bad-tempered old dog. He looked around the little group, nodding to Baidur, who was hard-pressed to contain the sheer excitement he felt at joining the campaign. The young warrior was jittery and bright-eyed to be in such company and be treated as an equal. Kachiun wondered if any of them knew the treacheries of their fathers, or whether they cared if they did.

Kachiun accepted the bowl of tea in his right hand, and tried to relax as he sipped. The conversation did not resume immediately in his presence. He had known all their fathers and, for that matter, Genghis himself. The years weighed heavily on him at that thought. He could see Tolui in Mongke and the memory saddened him. The promise of Chagatai's strong features looked out from Baidur's face in its lines and jutting jaw. Time would tell if he had the man's stubborn strength as well. Kachiun could see the lad had something to prove yet in this company. He was not among the leaders of the group, by any means.

That brought Kachiun's thoughts to Batu, and as he glanced over, he found the young man watching him with something like a smile, as if he could read his thoughts. The others deferred to him, that much was obvious, but Kachiun wondered if their new-found friendship would survive the challenges of the years. When they were rivals for the khanates, they would not be so relaxed in each other's presence, he thought, sipping.

Guyuk smiled easily, one who expected to inherit. He had not had Genghis as a father to harden him and make him understand the dangers of easy friendship. Perhaps Ogedai had been too soft on him, or perhaps he was just a normal warrior, without the ruthless quality that set men like Genghis apart.

'And men like me,' Kachiun thought to himself, considering his own dreams and past glories. Seeing the future in the relaxing cousins was bitter-sweet for him. They showed him respect, but he did not think they understood the debt they owed. The tea tasted sour in his mouth at the thought, though his teeth were rotting at the back and everything tasted bad to him.

'Did you have a reason to visit us on this cold morning?' Batu said suddenly.

'I came to welcome Baidur to the camp,' Kachiun replied. 'I was away when he brought in his father's tuman.'

'His own tuman, general,' Guyuk said immediately. 'We have all been raised by the hands of our fathers.'

He did not notice how Batu stiffened. His father Jochi had done nothing for him, yet he sat with the others, cousins and princes, as strong and perhaps harder than they were. Kachiun did not miss the flicker of emotions that played across the younger man's face. He nodded to himself, silently wishing them all luck.

'Well, I cannot waste a morning sitting here,' Kachiun said. 'I have to walk this leg, I'm told, to keep the bad blood moving.'

He clambered painfully to his feet, ignoring Guyuk's outstretched arm. The useless thing was throbbing again, in time with his heart. He would go back to the healer and endure another knife in the flesh to release the brown filth that filled the thigh. He frowned at the prospect, then inclined his head to the group as one, before limping away.

'He's seen a few things in his time,' Guyuk said wistfully, looking after him.

'He's just an old man,' Batu replied. 'We will see more.' He grinned at Guyuk. 'Like the bottom of a few skins of airag, for a start. Bring out your private store, Guyuk. Don't think I haven't heard of your father's packages to you.'

Guyuk blushed to be the centre of attention, as the others clamoured for him to bring out the drink. He rushed away to fetch the skins for his friends.

'Tsubodai told me to report to him at sunset,' Baidur said, his voice worried.

Batu shrugged. 'And we will, though he didn't say we had to be sober. Don't worry, cousin, we'll put on a show for the old devil. Perhaps it's time he realised we are the princes of the nation. He is just an artisan we employ, like a painter…or a maker of bricks. Good as he is, Baidur, that's all he is.'

Baidur looked uncomfortable. He had joined the army after the battles around Kiev and he knew he had yet to prove himself to his cousins. Batu had been the first to greet him, but Baidur was enough of a judge to see the spite in the older man. He was wary of the group, for all they were his cousins and princes of the same nation. He chose to say nothing and Batu relaxed back into a pile of grain sacks. It was not long before Guyuk returned, bearing fat skins of airag over each shoulder. Yao Shu had put a lot of effort into being ready for the meeting of Sorhatani and the khan's wife. The summer palace on the Orkhon river was barely a day's ride away for a scout, but the khan's wife had never travelled at that sort of speed. For all her apparent urgency, moving her staff and baggage had taken the best part of a month. Yao Shu had enjoyed the secret pleasure of watching Sorhatani's strain grow daily as she bustled about the palace and city, checking the tallies in the treasury and coming up with a thousand things for which she might be reproached in her care of the khan.