Nomad by nature and ancestry himself, Toghrul Khan, or Wang Khan, as he was now known, was well aware of the strange and uncanny way in which the most hidden rumors passed like the wind over the barrens and the desert.
He knew that it would not be very long before Temujin became conscious of his treachery. So now his emissaries and spies worked feverishly. And it was only a short time until Toghrul Khan knew that Temujin understood everything, and was aware that the peoples to the east of Lake Baikul were ready to strike in concert with the Karait Turks, and the rest of the unconquered peoples of the Gobi.
Toghrul Khan waited, gloating but tense. Would Temujin strike first, seeking a sweeping offensive which would demoralize peoples not yet conditioned to wholesale war? Or would he hold back, watching for the first move of his enemies?
Then one day Toghrul Khan received a letter from his foster son. It was brought by three warriors, dark-faced sturdy men with the fierce eyes of falcons.
“On a day when thine own-brother pursued thee, with intent to kill thee, O my foster father, mine own father aided thee and gave thee shelter, and protected thee. And did thou not become his anda, and did thou not sleep under the same blanket with him, swearing eternal friendship for him and his children?
“Did thou not swear to me by the holy Black River that thou wouldst never hear evil of me, thy foster son, but that we would meet at all times and settle all misunderstandings between us?
“Am I not one of the wheels of thy kibitka? And doth not only the man of folly quarrel with that which doth move his house, and carry it from danger?
“It is said that thou dost suspect me of enormous ambition. It is true that I have boasted before thee, but I thought thou didst listen indulgently, as a father doth listen to the words of a favorite son, knowing that youth is prone to brag overmuch. But have I ever given thee reason to suspect that I lust after thy power, and would seize the heritage from thy sons? Have I not come at thy word, with all my warriors, asking only to serve thee?
“Have I not made safe thy roads and thy caravans, and filled thy coffers with riches? And have I asked more than thy love and help, and a mere handful of coins?
“And now I have heard thou art inflamed against me, that thou art raising up the people against me, that thou wouldst cast me down and trample me underfoot. Why is thy rage rising like a fire against me; why is thy heart darkened and poisoned against thy son?
“I am filled with sorrow. I sit in my yurt, given up to grief.
“I have only one hope: that thou wilt send me a message that all that I have heard, of spies and plots, of treachery and hatred, are lies, and that thy love for me is unshaken and full of trust.”
Toghrul Khan could hardly believe his eyes. He squealed and chuckled with joy and gloating.
He continued to read:
“With thy help I have become strong and most powerful in the Gobi. My warriors stand like giants on the barrens and the steppes. Their hoofbeats are like thunder, and the earth is darkened with their passage, so many are they. Where they ride, the multitudes bow before them, acknowledging their resistless might. They are loyal and fearless, and full of ferocity, and would die for me.
“They live but to serve me, these many thousands of mighty men. And I live but to serve thee, to maintain the order which is necessary for thy welfare.”
Wang Khan shrilled like an exultant monkey. “The dog is trembling in his own offal! He cowers before me, with a servile whining! Never have I read so cowardly and slavish a letter! This is more than I dared hope. We have him in the hollow of our hands!”
One of his sons, Sen-Kung, cried out in fury: “How dare this pig call thee, my father, ‘father’! It is an insult which can be washed away only in his own blood!”
But Taliph reread the letter. When he had done, he rolled and unrolled it in his hands, narrowing his eyes.
“Do not exult prematurely, my father. I read many things in this letter which thou hast not apparently read. For instance, I read a threat. A most ominous threat. This is not the letter of a coward, but a most dangerous and merciless enemy.”
Wang Khan gaped at him, incredulous, his mouth falling open. His other sons muttered disparaging and scornful remarks.
“Threats!” cried the old man. “Thou art mad, Taliph.”
Taliph shook his head and smiled thinly. “Nay, I only read what is meant to be read. He hath recounted to thee the might, the number, and the ferocity of his warriors. In other words he doth say: ‘I am powerful. I have the best fighters in Asia, ready to die for me. I have built up an army of fighters which none can resist. Strike at me, and I shall strike back, and thou shalt fall, not I!’”
“Give me that letter!” exclaimed Wang Khan, and snatched it from the other’s hand. He reread it, his face wrinkling and grimacing like that of an ape’s.
“He doth also say,” remarked Taliph, calmly, “that thou must hasten to reassure him of thy goodwill and affection, lest he lose patience and teach thee a lesson. In other words, he doth demand thy peaceful gestures, and a cessation of plots and treachery against him. A most ominous letter! I like it not.”
Wang Khan flung the letter from him upon the floor. He trampled on it with the acid venom of the old. He spat at it. Then he raised his fist and shook it in the air.
“He dares to threaten me, me, Toghrul Khan, Wang Khan! I shall show the dog! We must strike immediately! Each day that we do not strike is a day of added danger!”
His aged face was suddenly contorted with his old fear. It shrank beneath his bald skull, so that he resembled a death’s-head. Now he gave himself up to his ancient dread, his own sick superstitions and nightmares. He wrung his hands; he glanced from side to side like a weasel threatened by wolves. Then his buried eyes lightened malignantly.
“Where are his messengers? Seize them. Cut off their heads. Then send their heads to Temujin! That will be my answer to his lovenote!”
He began to laugh, with a dry crackling sound, mad and evil.
Taliph looked at his father with a grave face.
“Thou dost realize this is a declaration of open and relentless war?”
The old man nodded fiercely. He grinned.
“I do! Allah, have I not waited for this day!”
His sons left him, to give orders.
He sat, huddled on his pillows, his hand sunken between his bony shoulders. He alternately chuckled, then shivered. His eyes roved wildly, from side to side. He was the personification of ageless wickedness, contemplating all evil and all violence.
Then he was still, staring rigidly before him, slowly blinking with eyelids of stone.
“I have a house, behind the Wall,” he muttered.