As he spoke, his fingers ruffled the stiff hair of the tiger skin at his pommel, feeling the rough edge where Genghis had hacked the head away. He saw one of his Chin minghaan officers rising slowly to his feet and Jochi paused to hear him.

‘My lord… general,’ the man said, his voice breaking under immense strain. ‘Why do you consider this thing?’

Jochi smiled, though bitterness flooded through him.

‘Because I am my father’s son, Sen Tu. He made his tribe by drawing in all those around him. Shall I do less? Should I follow Ogedai too until I am old and my life is just regrets? I say to you now, it isn’t in me. My little brother will be khan to the nation. He will not search for me when the time comes. Until then, I will find my wives and sons and daughters in a place where they have not heard the name of Genghis.’

He swept his gaze across the gathering of men on the river bank. They met his eyes without flinching, though some of them sat as if they had been struck.

‘I will be my own man, perhaps for just a few years until I am run down and killed. Who can say how this will end? Yet for a time, I will be able to say that I am free. That is why I stand in this place.’

The Chin officer sat down slowly and thoughtfully. Jochi waited. His officers had adopted the cold face to a man, hiding their thoughts from those around him. There would be no rabble-rousing by the river. Each would make the decision alone, as he had.

Sen Tu spoke up again, suddenly.

‘You will have to kill the scouts, general.’

Jochi nodded. Those two young men had put their heads in the mouth of the wolf, though they did not know it. They could not be allowed to return to Genghis to betray his position, even if he turned north as they left. Jochi had considered sending them back with some false story for his father, but killing them was safer by far than playing games and hoping to mislead men like Tsubodai. He did not underestimate that man’s fierce intelligence, nor his father’s. If the scouts simply vanished, they would wait months before sending others. By then he would have gone.

Sen Tu was deep in thought and Jochi watched him closely, sensing like the men around him that the Chin officer would speak for many of them. Sen Tu had seen upheaval in his life, from the appearance of the khan in his Chin homeland, to the Arab nations and this peaceful spot by the river. He had stood in the front rank against the shah’s best horsemen and still Jochi did not know what he would say.

‘I have a wife in the gers, lord, and two boys,’ Sen Tu said, raising his head. ‘Will they be safe if I do not come back?’

Jochi wanted to lie, to say that Genghis would not touch women and children. He struggled for just an instant, then relaxed. He owed the man the truth.

‘I don’t know. Let us not fool ourselves. My father is a vengeful man. He may spare them, or not, as he chooses.’

Sen Tu nodded. He had seen this young general tormented by his own people for years. Sen Tu respected the great khan, but he loved Jochi as a son. He had given his life to the young man who now stood so vulnerably before him, expecting yet another rejection. Sen Tu closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the Buddha that his children would live and one day know a man to follow, as he had done.

‘I am with you, general, wherever you go,’ Sen Tu said.

Though he spoke quietly, the words carried to those around him. Jochi swallowed hard.

‘You are welcome, my friend. I did not want to ride alone.’

Another minghaan officer spoke then.

‘You will not be alone, general. I will be there.’

Jochi nodded, his eyes stinging. His father had known this joy, this vow to follow one man, even if it meant death and the destruction of everything else they loved. It was worth more than gold, more than cities. A ripple spread through his officers as they shouted out to him, calling their names and joining him one by one. For each it was a personal choice, but he had them all and always had. When there were enough, they gave out a raucous cheer, a battle shout that seemed to rock the ground on which he stood.

‘When the scouts are dead, I will put it to the men,’ he said.

‘General,’ Sen Tu said suddenly. ‘If some of them choose not to come, if they decide to ride back to the khan, they will betray us.’

Jochi looked into the man’s dark eyes. He had considered his plans for a long time. Part of him knew he should have such men killed. It was less dangerous to let the scouts live than have his own men return to Genghis. If he let them live, his own chances of survival vanished to almost nothing. His knew his father would have made the decision in a heartbeat, but Jochi was torn. He felt the eyes of all his officers on him, waiting to see what he would order.

‘I will not stop them, Sen Tu,’ he said. ‘If any man wants to return to his family, I will let him leave.’

Sen Tu winced.

‘Let us see what happens, lord. If it is just a few, I can have men waiting with bows to make an end of them.’

Jochi smiled at the Chin officer’s unrelenting loyalty. His heart was full as he looked over the crowd gathered on the river bank.

‘I will kill the scouts,’ he said, ‘and then we will see.’

The village in the mountains was untouched. For three days, Tsubodai had ridden with Genghis and the tumans, at times following a narrow track that was barely three horses wide. The Mongols could not see how a village could even survive in such a place, though before noon on the third day, they had reached a heavily laden cart drawn by a mule. With a sheer drop on one side, the tumans could not pass in safety so Jebe forced the owner to cut the mule free before his men heaved the cart over the edge. Tsubodai watched it fall with interest until it shattered on the rocks below, spilling grain and bolts of cloth over a wide area.

The terrified owner did not dare protest and Tsubodai tossed him a pouch of gold for his stoicism, which then broke as the man realised he had more wealth than he had ever seen before.

The village itself had been built from the stones of the mountains, the houses and single street made of cut blocks the colour of the hills, so that they blended in like natural growths. Behind the small collection of buildings, a thin trail of water fell from dizzying heights above, making the air a mist. Chickens scratched in the dust and people stared in horror at the approaching Mongols before dipping their heads and hurrying away.

Tsubodai watched all this with interest, though he could not escape a sense of unease. Warriors and carts stretched back along the mountain trail for many miles, and if there was to be a battle, only those in front would be able to fight. The land forced the general to break every rule he had devised for warfare over the years and he could not relax as he rode along the street with Genghis.

Tsubodai sent a scout back to bring the man who had a sister in the village. With him went a dozen warriors to carry the gold and tip the cart off the cliff. If he had not, it would have blocked all the men behind and cut the army in half. As it was, Tsubodai could not see how to bring up the supplies from the rear. Without a staging area, the string of carts had to remain behind the warriors. Tsubodai struggled with the positions and terrain, hating the way the mountains held his men in a single, vulnerable line.

When the merchant arrived, he was almost in tears to see the village intact, having feared its destruction for days of travel. He found his sister’s house quickly and tried to calm her terror of the Mongols strolling outside. She watched open-mouthed as warriors dumped bags of gold coins on her step, but the sight did not calm her. Instead, she paled further and further as the pile grew. As the warriors stood back, she slapped her brother hard across the face and tried to bar the door to him.