He could smell tea and roasting lamb on the breeze and his mouth filled with saliva. He had been hungry since leaving the farm, but there would be nothing until the morning and only then after he had run and loaded carts until his arms and shoulders burned. He rubbed a spot on his back at the thought, feeling the new muscle there. He wasn't large, just hard from work. Silently, in the darkness, he told himself he might run at the next new moon. If they caught him, at least he would have tried, but they'd have to ride fast and hard to do it. Batu ducked his head to enter the ger, straightening up as he greeted those inside. He had brought Guyuk and Baidur with him and he was pleased to see Mongke already there. Batu nodded to him, but Mongke merely glanced over and then went back to filling his mouth with hot mutton. Batu reminded himself that Mongke too had lost a father. It was a way in, perhaps, to share that grief. The fact that he felt only hatred for his own father was no obstacle if he handled the younger man carefully. They were all princes of the nation, with blood ties to Genghis that Tsubodai could never claim. Batu enjoyed the idea, the sense of identity it gave him to know he was part of that group. No, that they were his group, to lead. He was the eldest of them, though Mongke had the build and dour manner of an experienced man, heavy with muscle. He would be the hardest to influence, Batu thought. Guyuk and Baidur were just boys in comparison, young and enthusiastic about everything. It was easy to imagine ruling an empire with them.

Before he sat down, he acknowledged Kachiun, Jebe and Chulgetei, bowing briefly. More old men. He noticed Kachiun's thigh was hugely swollen, far worse than before. The general sat on a low pallet with the distended leg stretched out before him. A quick glance at Kachiun's face showed tired eyes and skin a deep yellow from sickness. Batu thought his great-uncle would not survive the winter to come, but that was the way of things. The old died to give way to the young. He did not let it trouble him.

Tsubodai was watching, his eyes cold as he waited for Batu to speak first. Batu made a point of smiling widely, his thoughts making him mellow.

'It is a fine night, orlok,' he said. 'My men say this is the best grassland they have seen since home. The horses have put on a layer of fat you wouldn't believe.'

'Sit, Batu. You are welcome here,' Tsubodai replied curtly. 'Guyuk, Baidur, there is tea in the kettle. There are no servants tonight, so pour your own.'

The two younger men set to the task, with clinking and chuckles as they poured boiling tea from a huge iron urn on the stove at the centre of the ger, under the smoke hole. Tsubodai watched as Baidur handed Batu a cup of the steaming salt liquid. It was natural enough, but such small things were always to do with power. In just a short time, it seemed Batu had found himself another follower. Tsubodai might have admired Batu's gift for leadership, if it had not interfered with his own control of the army. His father Jochi had had the same talent. Tsubodai had heard the name Batu had given the army. It would have been hard not to hear it. Over the years of campaign, the 'Golden Horde' had almost passed into common use, as such things will. Half the men seemed to think Batu was in overall command and he did nothing to dispel their belief. Tsubodai clenched his jaw at the thought.

Ogedai had honoured Jochi's bastard with titles and authority, making a point of it, in the face of Tsubodai's objections. In fact, Batu had not disgraced himself, far from it. His tuman was well organised, his officers carefully chosen. Some men could inspire loyalty and others could only demand it. It was strangely galling to see Batu was one of the first kind. Such men were always dangerous. The difficulty lay in handling them, directing their energies, if it was not already too late.

'The Magyars of Hungary are horsemen,' Tsubodai began, his voice deliberately low so that they had to lean in to listen. 'They have vast herds and they use the central plains much as we do. They are not nomads, however. They have built two cities on the banks of the river Danube. Pest and Buda are the names. Neither is well defended, though Buda rests on hills. Pest stands on a plain.'

He paused for questions.

'Defences?' Batu said immediately. 'Walls? Weapons? Supply lines?'

'Pest has no walls. The scouts report a stone palace on one of the hills by Buda, perhaps the residence of their king. His name…'

'Is not important,' Batu went on. 'It does not sound like such a task to take these cities. Why even wait for winter?'

'His name is Bela the fourth,' Tsubodai replied, his eyes dark with anger. 'We will wait for winter because the river can be crossed when it freezes. As with Moscow, it gives us a road between the cities, right into their heart.'

Guyuk sensed the tension between the two men and put a hand on Batu's arm. He shook it off irritably.

'My tuman is ready to ride today, orlok,' Batu continued. 'My scouts tell me the mountains to the west are passable before winter. We could be in these cities before the first snow. You are the one who said speed was important, or is it caution that is important now?'

'Keep your arrogance in your mouth, lad,' Jebe snapped suddenly.

Batu's gaze flickered over the older man. Jebe had ridden with Genghis through the Afghan hills. He was dark and lean, his face seamed with years and experience. Batu snorted in contempt.

'There is no need to leave the major targets to winter, general, as I'm sure the orlok knows. Some of us would like to see an end to the conquests before we are old men. For others, of course, it is already too late for that.'

Jebe surged to his feet, but Tsubodai raised a hand across him and he did not move from the spot. Batu chuckled.

'I have carried out all of Tsubodai's orders,' he said. He looked around as he spoke, deliberately including the princes. 'I have taken cities and towns because the great strategist said "Go here. Go there." I have not questioned a single command.' He paused and the ger was very still. No one else would speak if Tsubodai did not and he remained silent. Batu shrugged as if it was nothing and went on.

'Yet I do not forget that the khan himself raised me, not the orlok. I am the khan's man first, as are we all. More than that, I am of the blood, in the line of Genghis, as are Guyuk, Baidur and Mongke. It is not enough to follow blindly and hope that it is right. We are the ones who lead, who question the orders given, is that not right, Orlok Tsubodai?'

'No,' Tsubodai said. 'It is not right. You obey orders because if you do not, you cannot expect the same from your men. You are part of the wolf, not the whole wolf. I would have thought you had learned that when you were a boy, but it is not the case. A wolf cannot have more than one head, general, or it tears itself apart.'

He took a deep breath, thinking deeply. Batu had chosen the wrong moment to assert himself, Tsubodai could feel it. The older men were shocked at his words, while the princes were nowhere near ready to overthrow Tsubodai Bahadur, not this season. With hidden satisfaction, he spoke again.

'You have displeased me, Batu. Leave us. I will have fresh orders for you in the morning.'

Batu turned to Guyuk, looking for support. He felt his stomach drop away as the khan's son would not meet his eyes. Batu winced then and nodded.

'Very well, orlok,' he said stiffly. No one spoke as he left.

In the silence, Tsubodai refilled his cup and sipped at the hot tea.

'The mountains ahead are more than just a ridge or a few peaks,' he said. 'My scouts tell me we will have to cross sixty or seventy miles of crags. My scouts have made it through, but without local men, we cannot know the major passes. I could force a few minghaans through to map the valleys, without carts or supplies beyond a few weeks. For the rest, the siege machines, the carts, the families and injured, it will be slow and difficult. We need to know where the passes are, to survive. We may have to build ramps or bridges. Even so, we have to make good speed or we will lose many when winter comes in. We cannot be in the highlands then. There is no grazing up there.'