The young Turk was dragged to the Great Khan’s ger by his beard, his robes covered in dust and filth and his face and body bruised and bloodied by the rough treatment he had received from his Mongol captors.
In his right hand, knuckles white, he gripped the scroll, his reason for still breathing.
His tormentors stopped outside the large tent of skins, one of them shouting “no-khoi kho-rio!” before he drew back the flap and entered.
The Great Khan, Temujin, known as Genghis, sat at the back of the ger facing the entrance. On his right were his sons Aradai, Bayan and Nayuk. On his left, his grandsons Jebe and Chindu, followed by the generals Mengadai and Mamdu. Together they passed bowls of airag and drank heartily while regarding the Turk who lay panting on the rug-covered floor in front of them.
The moment of silence seemed to last forever before finally the Great Khan gestured and the two guards dragged the Turk to his feet. They pushed him and jabbed their fingers at the scroll.
The Turk broke the seal of Shah Mengli Giray of the Khwarezm and unfurled the scroll. He made to begin reading the message but choked on the dust in his throat and bent double, coughing uncontrollably. As his face reddened the assembled Mongols broke into fits of drunken laughter, their mirth at his discomfort uncontrollable.
The Khan barked an order and a bowl of airag was thrust at the Turk. He sniffed the sour, milky liquid before taking an experimental draught. Instantly as the fiery alcohol burned his throat he began coughing once more, worse than ever. His head began to swim. The Mongols laughed more uproariously than before.
Eventually he regained his composure and began to read from the scroll, his throat now warmed and loosened by the airag. The Khan and his family sat in silence as the Turkic words tumbled through the thick, stuffy air of the ger. When the Turk finished, he knelt on the floor and bowed his head to the Khan, awaiting a response.
Temujin turned to his translator, a Merkit by the name of Chuluun. “What does he say?”
Chuluun grimaced. How best to express the meaning? His Turkic was rusty, though he dare not tell the Khan this.
“Great Khan, he says that if you do not make peace he will send his grandfather to fight you.”
Temujin grunted. “This man’s grandfather?”
“No Great Khan, I understand him to mean the grandfather of his Shah.”
The ger erupted into laughter once more. Aradai in particular found this so funny he snorted airag out of his nostrils and down the front of his felt coat onto the rug below. The Great Khan did not laugh and as the others slowly realized this they suppressed their mirth and struggled to keep a straight face.
“What do we know of the Shah’s grandfather?” He appeared deadly serious. Chuluun was unsure.
“Ah…I…he is long dead my Khan.”
Jebe let out a giggle and strangled it quickly. Those around him held their breath, trying not to laugh.
Temujin squinted one eye in thought. “Does he say anything else?”
“Yes Great Khan, he says he will put a scorpion in your tent.”
Temujin frowned. “I have been stung by a scorpion before. It was not pleasant.”
All the while the Turk knelt waiting. He felt the eyes of the Mongols burrow into him as they stared. A long few moments of silence passed while the Khan thought.
“We will give him his answer. At Khiva, Urgench and Konjikala we will express the same point we expressed at Samarqand and in the same language. We shall trust in Great Tengri to deliver us from the vengeful shade of the Shah’s grandfather and in the evening my tent will be swept clean of scorpions.”
He gestured at the young Turk.
“Take this man from here and flay him alive. Subsequently cause him to be torn into four pieces by horses. If he dies before being separated thus you will yourself suffer the same fate. Then remove his head, place the Shah’s message in his mouth, dip his head in hot wax and send it to Mengli Giray at Embi where he skulks in his panic. Thus he shall have ample warning to summon his illustrious ancestor and send him against us if he so wishes.”
Seemingly satisfied, the Great Khan reclined and called for more airag.
The Turk was dragged from the ger by his beard, ignorant of the painful death that awaited him. As he departed the Mongols laughed cruelly once more.
Last edited by phonicsmonkey; 07-22-2011 at 02:09.
From the crest of the rise overlooking the smashed and violated fort Temujin could see the other hordes moving to the north, upwind from the carnage, the better to avoid the stench of burning flesh.
Already a maelstrom of carrion birds gathered in the skies above the valley for a feast the like of which they had never seen, their oustretched wings blackening the desert sky. A single black feather drifted down and came to rest on the neck of Temujin's steed. He picked it up and placed it carefully in his hat band, one of many such souveniers on display there.
The Great Khan signalled to his troops to head north for the muster. With an almost prescient surge the horde of mounted archers flocked together, mimicking the great circular movements of the vultures and buzzards aloft. The dull thunder of hooves and the shrieks of the quarrelling scavengers were the only sounds to be heard for miles around.
Within the hour he was sat within his great ger, his family gathered around him passing the customary bowls of airag.
He turned to Aradai, his trusted lieutenant and eldest son. "What proportion of the Shah's forces did this represent?"
Aradai sucked air in through his teeth as he contemplated his answer. "Great Khan, I believe only a third, perhaps less."
Temujin grunted.
Jebe piped up. "They fought like women Great Khan! And their fellows flee before us to the west. Surely the rest of their lands are ours for the taking."
Aradai scowled at the interruption from his son. "These Turks are but barely out of the saddle. Their tragedy is that they have forgotten how to fight with horse and bow. Their cities have corrupted their pure steppe hearts, making them soft and they have forsaken Great Tengri for another god whose protection is sorely lacking. Even worse, unlike the Han they have not developed their cities and the lands surrounding them. Their pastures are of poor quality."
Temujin grunted again. "Is this so?"
Bayan this time. "Yes Great Khan, your herds would find little feed here and the seasons are ill-defined, making the annual migration worthless. Unless we were to settle here in the style of the Han I fear the lands would be of little value."
Temujin thought for a moment. "Then we will continue our journey and seek richer pastures on which to graze our herds. As for the Shah's remaining forces, we will no doubt meet them again. Likely they will run into difficulty as they flee to the east. Refugees are seldom welcomed by their neighbours. The Shah himself is stranded at Embi so they lack their commander. His fate will be sealed one way or the other."
The generals grunted their assent and called for more airag.
Last edited by phonicsmonkey; 07-22-2011 at 02:07.
After a long discussion with the Moorish Generals and trusted advisors, the Moorish Caliph decided to wage a war on the Kingdom of Portugal and destroy the tiny kingdom. Caliph Ayyub himself lead an army to besiege the mighty Portuguese Citadel-Capital of Oporto. The Moorish army under the Caliph was quite outnumbered by the portuguese. But reinforcements were marching to help the besieging army. Two armies, one under General Asim ibn Faris and another under General Mahbub ibn Mu'awiya were sent to help the Caliph. While Mahbub's army was sent from Leon, Asim lead his troops from Seville and decided to meet with the Caliph via the hills of Galicia and Estremadura. Another separate army under General Mu'awiya ibn Rashid was also quickly trailing the vanguard force. The Caliph's men were growing tired and became weak due to starvation. They were on the verge of deserting the siege. Every now and then the Portuguese harassed the small army under the Caliph. The Caliph was hesistant to attack the Citadel as he did not have enough siege machines to break down the inner walls. But when the reinforcements arrived with fresh supplies, the men rejoiced and were eager to assault. Asim ibn Faris knew that the fortress will need atleast half a dozen of trebuchets to bring down its walls and so he brought some with him. With the Siege machines ready and the men eager to fight, the Caliph signalled the assault. What followed was a bloody siege. The siege machines were bringing down the citadel walls, and the Portuguese started to lose heart. When all seemed to be going well for the Moors, an arrow struck Asim and he fell on the battlefield enjoying a noble death. This made the Moors to berserk and they started to butcher every single man on their way fearing little about death. In the end the Moors captured Oporto ending the Portuguese rule. The city was sacked and looted and Imams were called for converting the population.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The Siege of Oporto
A Noble Death
A Kingdom destroyed
With Oporto secure, and the Portguese destroyed, the Moors now turned their eyes towards mainland spain. The Moorish forces split up with a bulk of the force under Caliph Ayyub, Mahbub, Mu'awiya, Ahmad heading towards the city of Salamanca, while another one under Atiq ibn Nuh besieged Toledo. Atiq didnt have the enough siege machines to break the inner walls, but decided to go ahead with what he had. The outer walls fell but the moors ran out of ammo to bring down the inner walls. Leonese decided to sally out trying to rout the Moors by surprise. But when they opened the inner gates opened for the leonese forces to sally out, Atiq quickly rallied his forces and ordered them to quickly get through the gates. The Moors overwhelmed the Leonese and panic struck the ranks when they Leonese General fell. They broke ranks and were run down by the Moors. In the end, the moors won a convincing victory at Toledo. The Roman Empire was impressed at the recent incidents.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Meanwhile, at Salamanca, a moorish spy informed about a Leonese army marching towards the city to save it from Salamanca. But the Moors beat them to Salamanca and besieged it while the Caliph watched over the proceedings. Although they won a clear victory, the Caliph was concerned with the losses incurred and ordered for reinforcements to be sent immediately. With Seville, Oporto and Toledo secure, reinforcements was not a problem and were sent for immediately. Salamanca was exterminated to restore order.
Yesuk of the Kirghiz was frankly terrified at the prospect of spending a few days reliant on the hospitality of the Great Khan. At least, unlike most people who suffered the Khan's 'hospitality', he did not have the status of an enemy of the Mongols. So it was unlikely, not impossible but unlikely, that he would be painfully killed in the next couple of days.
Yesuk's father Kershut, the Kirghiz Khan, had enough wily sense born of generations of struggle on the wild steppe to have forged an immediate 'alliance' with the Mongol horde. An immediate surrender, in truth, which had resulted in nothing worse than an annual tribute, grazing rights for the Khan's herds and the offer of Yesuk's sister, Yesukai, as a bride to Temujin himself.
So while the rest of the relieved Kirghiz celebrated their good fortune, here was Yesuk, arriving at the Mongol camp to deliver the young bride and celebrate the wedding in the traditional Mongol style.
Which, he had been advised, involved a great deal of airag. Indeed, on arrival at the pasturage of a Mongol husband-to-be it was expected that the bride's family invite the groom's family to the ger for a round of drinks. He was advised, by those who had survived such an experience, to expect the round to last the greater part of a day and a night and to be ready for almost anything.
Hence, in addition to the three wagonloads of airag, Yesuk had procured the services of a traditional Mongol bard, a troupe of entertainers and a brigade of heavily armed bodyguards. There was a saying among his people: Who falls off his horse was not looking.
Yesuk wanted to make sure he was looking.
The sun was high in the sky and the ger was erected some half a mile from the horde's encampment when the Mongols were sighted on the crest of the hill. Yesuk forced himself to breathe deeply and tried to slow his heart rate. He began to sweat in his red tanned leather jerkin, the traditional wedding garb of his people.
By the time the riding party had arrived and were dismounting Yesuk's head was light. He pulled himself together enough to greet the Khan's family. Aradai, Bayan and Nayuk, the grandsons Jebe and Chindu and finally great Temujin himself, the Genghis Khan, a surprisingly small man with gimlet eyes which sparked in the darkness under his fur-rimmed hat.
They all entered the ger and sat down. Yesuk clapped his hands and attendants swiftly brought the airag, which was passed around in wooden bowls. He cleared his throat and began the conversation with a rather weak compliment on the size of the Khan's herds.
Half an hour later Yesuk was surprised at how well it was going. The Mongols had been polite and even warm in discussing the relative merits of different pasturages and the quality of their horses. They even complimented the Kirghiz on their bone-carving, a speciality of his people. The airag flowed freely.
An hour later it was time for Yesukai to make her grand entrance. The felt tent flaps opened and in she came, veiled and resplendent in her fur-trimmed finery. Yesuk felt proud for her that she was marrying such a man as the Great Khan. Perhaps this match would augur well for his people after all? For the first time he began to relax. The airag was helping. He was glad he had brought so much, for his guests were living up to their reputations as hard drinkers. Already their faces were reddened and the discourse, or what he could understand of it, was becoming rather more bawdy. As if to underline this point, one of the Khan's grandsons (Jebe perhaps?) pointed to Yesukai and made a loud remark which caused the Mongols to collapse into hysterical laughter. Yesuk's questioning look to the translator was met with a slight shake of the head...
A hour or so later Yesuk was as drunk as his guests. Arms around one another's shoulders in a large, lurching huddle the wedding party sang songs of valour and triumph, accompanied by the bard. When one tripped, they all fell over in a heap, laughing and elbowing each other to get up. Yesukai sat in a corner giggling behind her veil, a half-drunk bowl of airag at her side.
The bard's next offering, a ditty concerning the migration of antelope, was shouted down by the group and for his troubles he received a bowl to the side of the head, flung by Temujin himself. It knocked the bard's hat off to general hilarity. Ever the professional, the bard struck up a winsome and overly-sentimental ballad concerning the noble relationship between a man and his horse, which had the audience rapt and tearful in no time.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.
A falconry exhibition was disrupted when one of the guests shot the steppe eagle. A wrestling match ended in the crippling of one of the protagonists. An array of tumblers, mime artists and clowns were driven from the ger in various states of disarray after their encounter with the toughest gig of their lives.
Eventually a mass brawl erupted in which every man turned on his fellow, insults were bellowed, noses were broken, arms twisted and stomachs punched. Afterwards, Yesuk's only recollection of this period, which lasted some time, was alternately strangling and being strangled by Aradai until both were too exhausted to continue. It was safe to say that the bodyguards were suspicously absent at this point.
Exhaustion and the running out of the airag supply seemed to jointly influence the end of the hostilities. Lying around the ger and its exterior were comatose or otherwise incapacitated Mongols, Kirghits and bodyguards.
At last, Temujin rose to his unsteady feet, barked a few words and staggered towards the exit. On his way he bent to where Yesuk was sprawled over, trying not to vomit, placed his hand on his shoulder and said a few words with a grin.
A couple of the Khan's sons walked around slapping and kicking their fellows back to life and picked up the sleeping Yesukai, bearing her aloft between them as they stepped out into the night air. She would spend the night in the Mongols encampment before the wedding ceremony tomorrow.
When everyone had left, Yesuk turned to his translator.
"What did the Khan say to me?"
The translator cleared his throat and tried to focus on Yesuk.
"He said welcome to the family."
Last edited by phonicsmonkey; 09-02-2011 at 05:31.
Legends of the Khan - WotK2 story thread
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