For some reason he could scarcely name, Jamuga avoided Temujin that night. He ate quietly with his half-brothers at the campfire before their yurt. They were all young boys, gay and boisterous. The youngest one had to be caught from hurtling into the fire at intervals. But there was a simple animalism about them that Jamuga, for all his fastidiousness and silence, found refreshing and soothing tonight. A painful suspicion was awakening in him that there was something secret and menacing in Temujin which he had never suspected before, and that the youth he had thought all turbulence and vehement speech and gestures was some one he did not know. His lack of perspicacity troubled him more than the thing he learned about his anda, for his egotism, for all it was not aggressive, was only the deeper and he could not endure any affront to it.
In the midst of his disturbed thoughts he glanced up to see that the pliant and amiable Belgutei had joined the group about the fire. Upon catching his eye, Belgutei smiled, caught the youngest child deftly from his latest surge towards the fire, and set him on his feet. He sat down, and began to joke humorously with the children, who responded to him enthusiastically. Jamuga, frowning perplexedly, watched the youth in his play with the children. He seemed to see Temujin’s younger half-brother for the first time. Belgutei was slight and active, and had an affable and responsive face, and no enemies. That seemed sinister to Jamuga, yet he could not help but admit to himself that the reason might be because Belgutei offended no one, was never aggressive or arrogant or fierce, but always ready for laughter and friendship, and amiably disposed to any one who made overtures to him. Still, Jamuga doubted. Open looks frequently hid devious hearts. Pleasant smiles were sometimes the smooth door behind which villainy waited. Moreover, he had always had the feeling that Belgutei never said anything he meant. He laughed without venom, but sometimes venom was too crafty to betray itself.
Jamuga’s mother now came scolding for the young children, and Jamuga and Belgutei were left alone. Then it was that Jamuga thought with pale contempt: It is not mere friendliness that bringeth him here. For, out of the corners of his eyes he saw that Belgutei was studying him speculatively. When he looked fully at the other youth, Belgutei immediately broke into an artless smile, which Jamuga did not return.
“I have heard it rumored that Temujin will soon seek the aid of Toghrul Khan,” said Belgutei, in his agreeable voice.
Jamuga shrugged. “Who knoweth?” he answered, coldly.
Belgutei eyed him with pleasant reflectiveness, knowing him undeceived.
“I have always loved Temujin,” he said, candidly. “I have always believed in his destiny.”
For some reason this irritated Jamuga, and he said impatiently:
“What destiny? It is strange that every one is mouthing that word, like a camel eating thorns. But thou didst not come here to me, Belgutei, merely to discuss Temujin’s vainglorious dreams.” When he said that, he was conscious of a feeling of slight sickness, as though he had been self-caught in treachery. But there was a sore and aching spot in him, which he had to rub.
Belgutei laughed lightly and good-temperedly. “Thou art right, Jamuga. I did not come to discuss Temujin’s plans. I only came from motives of brotherly concern. Last night, an attempt was made to poison Bektor, my brother.”
Jamuga was startled. He turned and faced Belgutei fully and hastily. “But Temujin would not stoop to the wickedness of poisoning Bektor! Thou art a fool, Belgutei! What quarrel there is between them will be settled openly and fairly.” But to himself, with mounting sickness, he thought: How do I know this? Do I know Temujin at all?
Belgutei shrugged placatingly. “I am glad that thou dost believe this, Jamuga. It doth relieve my mind of many apprehensions. I love Bektor. Nevertheless, though I am inclined to believe thee, an attempt was made to poison him. He hath not been in good spirits the last few days, and could eat little. Therefore, his life was saved.”
Quickening with anxiety, Jamuga exclaimed: “Tell me!” His very lips felt cold.
Belgutei said, new gravity darkening his friendly face: “Last night Bektor was passing Temujin’s yurt. Bortei was stirring the pot, in which she was cooking a fine antelope stew. Temujin was dining with Kurelen, as he often doth, and Bortei, seeing Bektor, assumed an air of affection and kindness and offered to share the meal with him, calling him ‘brother.’”
He paused, and fixed his eyes, suddenly piercing, upon the silent Jamuga.
“She did declare to Bektor that she was much annoyed at Temujin’s fondness for Kurelen, and that he often left her lonely. My brother—he is a simple and tormented soul. He doth respond to friendliness like a wounded dog. Under all his formidable and sulky appearance, he longeth for kindness and peace. All his fierceness doth spring from his aching desire to be accepted. His bullying manner doth conceal his bewilderment. Men like this can be tamed to loyalty and generosity; misunderstood, none can be more terrible.”
Again he paused. Jamuga was still silent, but a deep furrow appeared between his pale eyes.
Belgutei sighed. “Bektor sat with Bortei not censuring her for her forward ways. He was very lonely. She filled his plate and hers, from the pot. She urged him to eat. But all at once his somber sadness clutched his vitals, and only courtesy made him swallow a little. As soon as he could, he left her.”
Belgutei shrugged slightly. “He told me that there was something about the woman which revolted him, though she hath great beauty.”
He waited. But still Jamuga did not speak.
Belgutei went on quietly, all the merriment gone from his eyes.
“Bektor lay down to sleep. And then suddenly woke with a cry, clutching his belly. He called for the Shaman. When Kokchu came, he cried out that my brother had been poisoned. He mixed him a foul brew, and forced it upon him. Bektor vomited. The food he had eaten spewed through his mouth, bright red with his blood.”
Jamuga grew frigid with horror and disgust. He began to speak in a stammering voice: “But, thou didst say that Bortei ate from the same pot, sitting beside Bektor!”
Belgutei nodded gravely. “That is true. I questioned Bektor closely. The woman did go in and out of the yurt, bringing cups and kumiss and millet. At any time, she had the opportunity to mix poison separately with the food she was placing on Bektor’s plate. He recalled that it had a dimly strange flavor. Or, mayhap, she mixed the poison in his cup.”
Jamuga bent his head and stared at the fire.
“Look thee, Jamuga,” said Belgutei, reasonably. “Bortei would have no reason to poison Bektor, except by command of Temujin.”
Jamuga spoke in a low voice, not looking at him: “Doth it occur to thee that she might have been moved by loyal fervor to Temujin, and undertook this herself?”
Belgutei threw back his head and laughed. “Hah! She hath the eye of a wanton! I am amazed that she hath not heretofore attempted to poison Temujin, himself, for it is open for any one to see that she lusteth after Subodai! Nay, she poisoned Bektor by Temujin’s command—”
He stopped abruptly, for Jamuga’s eyes were filled with fire. The reserved youth seemed imbued with a frantic passion and rage, and Belgutei could do nothing but stare at him, astounded.
“It is a lie!” cried Jamuga. “In truth, she attempted to poison Bektor, but by her own desire. And in my heart, I know her motive.”
He got to his feet. He was visibly trembling. He struggled to control himself. When he spoke again, his voice was unnaturally quiet.
“Fear no more treachery against Bektor, such as this. And now, do thou leave me.”
When Belgutei had left him, Jamuga stood, rigidly trembling, for a long while. Then, pulling his hood over his head, he slipped along the rear of the yurts and made his way to that of Temujin. Bortei was sitting before her fire, with Houlun, and when they perceived Jamuga, they stared up at him, wonderingly. Houlun greeted him with reserve, but Bortei said nothing, only paling a trifle. Jamuga did not answer Houlun’s greeting, but said directly to Bortei, looking down at her with hatred and loathing:
“Thou didst attempt to poison Bektor!”
Houlun uttered a concerned exclamation, but Bortei, turning white as tallow, looked at him boldly, and answered:
“It is a lie.”
Jamuga shook his head at her with a sort of cold ferocity. “It is not a lie, and thou knowest it. Look thee, Bortei—Temujin hath a quarrel to settle with Bektor. If thou dost settle it for him, for thine own motives which I know, he will be a mockery among his people. I shall not tell Temujin, for he might kill thee for thy foul craftiness. But lift thy hand against, Bektor again, and thy husband shall know everything about thee.”
Houlun looked at him with quickening and passionate interest: “What dost thou know of Bortei, Jamuga?”
But he looked only at Bortei, whose lips had become livid, and whose eyes, enormously distended, were filled with hatred and terror. And then he turned away, and left them. Soon, he heard the acrimonious voices of the two women, upbraiding each other, accusing and counter-accusing, until a scream assured him that Houlun had smacked her daughter-in-law across the face.
He went back to his yurt. His young brothers were asleep. He lay down on his bed of furs and felt, and closed his eyes. But he could not sleep.
There was a great sickness in him, but he was not thinking about Bortei.
Over and over, he thought: Is it possible it was by Temujin’s command?