Genghis: Birth of an Empire by Conn Iggulden Page A

standing as stiff and pale as a silver birch sapling when Hoelun ducked under the pony’s neck and embraced her son. He could feel the tiny child at her breast wriggle as he smelled sweet milk and mutton grease. When she released him, the tiny little girl began to squawk, red in the face at the unwanted interruption. Temujin watched Hoelun tuck her flat breast back under the questing mouth. He could not look his mother in the eye and she glanced at where Yesugei stood nearby, proud and silent as he stared off into the distance. Hoelun sighed.
    “Stop it, Yesugei,” she said loudly.
    Her husband jerked, his head coming round with a flush darkening his cheeks. “What are you—?” he began.
    She interrupted him. “You know exactly what I mean. You haven’t a kind word for the boy, and you expect to ride the next three days in silence?”
    Yesugei frowned, but Hoelun wasn’t finished with him.
    “You took the boy’s bird and gave it to that ugly bondsman of yours. Did you expect him to laugh and thank you for it?”
    Yesugei’s pale gaze flickered over Eeluk and his son, gauging the reaction to the speech.
    “He is too young,” he muttered.
    Hoelun hissed like a pot on the stove. “He is a boy about to be betrothed. He is young and too proud, just as his stubborn father is. He is so much like you that you cannot even see it.”
    Yesugei ignored this, and Temujin did not know what to say as his mother looked back at him.
    “He listens, though he pretends not to, Temujin,” she murmured. “He is like you in that.” She reached up to take his cheek in her strong fingers. “Do not be wary of the families of my people. They are good-hearted, though you must keep your eyes down around the young men. They will test you, but you must not be afraid.”
    Temujin’s yellow eyes flashed. “I am not afraid,” he said. She waited and his defiant expression altered subtly. “All right, I am listening as well,” he said.
    She nodded and from a pocket brought a bag of sweet milk curds, pressing it into his hand.
    “There is a bottle of black airag in the saddlebag against the cold. These are for the journey. Grow strong and be kind to whichever girl is chosen for you.”
    “Kind?” Temujin replied. For the first time since his father had told him he was going, he felt a twinge of nervousness in his stomach. Somewhere there was a stranger who would be his wife and bear his children. He could not imagine what she might look like, or even what he wanted in such a woman.
    “I hope she is like you,” he said thoughtfully.
    Hoelun beamed and hugged him with a brief clasp that set his little sister crying indignantly. “You are a good boy, Temujin. You will make her a fine husband,” she said.
    To his astonishment, he saw tears gleaming in her eyes. She rubbed at them even as he felt an answering pang. His defenses were crumbling and she saw his fear that he would be humiliated in front of Yesugei and Eeluk. Men on their way to be betrothed did not bawl with their mothers.
    Hoelun gripped her son briefly around the neck, then turned away, exchanging a last few murmured words with her husband. The khan of the Wolves sighed visibly, nodding in reply as he mounted. Temujin leapt nimbly into his own saddle.
    “Temujin!” he heard.
    He smiled as he turned his white-footed pony with a gentle pressure on the reins. His sleepy brothers had roused themselves at last and come out to see him off. Temuge and Khasar clustered around his stirrups, adoration in their faces. Kachiun winced against the light as he took a moment to inspect a fraying front hoof. They were a noisy, lively group and Temujin felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease.
    Bekter came out of the ger, his flat face impassive. Temujin regarded him, seeing a sparkle of triumph in the empty gaze. Bekter too had thought how much easier his life would be without Temujin there. It was hard not to worry for the younger ones, but Temujin would not shame them by voicing