Save the Last Bullet for God (28 page)

The evenings belonged to us. We talked for
hours and told each other stories. We dreamed under the stars when
it was warm and next to a fire when it was cold. During this time,
I made him tell me about the woodland from which he had come. He
told me how people there lived in huts and survived by setting
traps and hunting. While he was telling me about the giant trees,
the massive forests that covered all the sky, and the animals that
lived among them, I listened to him intently, asking only a few
questions. He told me how he could tell a rabbit from a fox based
on its snow prints. He described the traps he set to catch the
intelligent animals, and if he was unsuccessful in his explanation,
he drew them on the ground to show me.

In his home territory, there were not many
horses. This sounded strange to me, but our tame sheep were strange
to him. He was surprised that we cut and ate them instead of
feeding and keeping them. I explained that we did this because the
animals were always out there, and you could hunt them whenever you
wanted. Meanwhile, when it wasn’t necessary, we didn’t have to care
for them.

We talked tirelessly about war strategy. We
discussed embrangling, deception, and using the power of the enemy
against himself. We used small stones to represent our soldiers and
horsemen on the battlefield. We positioned them against the enemy,
moved them, and talked and talked about the traps that could be
set.

We found out how important knowledge was in
battle; we also learned about the importance of providing the wrong
information to the enemy. To us, knowledge was even more important
than the number of weapons and soldiers.

Sometimes, we would talk to one of our
people’s skilled warriors (usually Cebe) and bore him with our
questions. We asked his opinion about the tactics we had developed,
and we absorbed anything he shared with us.

We made an interesting pair, and although it
wasn’t our idea, everyone treated us with distance and no one
interfered. However, all of the boys our age would answer whenever
we asked, and they did whatever we asked them to without question,
likely out of fear.

After a time, we noticed someone was spying
on us. Unlike the others, she approached us without any fear. Her
name was Selen, and she was the youngest daughter of a shaman. She
was a little taller than me, but younger. She had penetrating onyx
eyes, and she always carried a red handkerchief made of silk.
Sometimes, she wore the handkerchief on her elbow; other times, she
used it to braid her hair.

At first, we told her of our discomfort and
asked her to hang out with the other girls and stay out of our way,
but because of her father’s position, her strange looks, manners,
and speech, her curiosity in magic, and her peevish behavior, she
had already alienated many others. So, out of desperation, she
persisted.

We began to let this insistent stranger
follow us, but quietly at first and at a distance. To assist us,
she sometimes brought food, figures, and pieces of bone in various
colors that we could use in our war tactics. She often played with
the wolf, and, as she listened to us, we grew used to her
presence.

She rarely joined our conversations, but,
when she did speak, her thoughts and words would generally surprise
us, and, in time, we learned to respect her. We even asked for her
opinion when we had a difficulty and couldn’t find a solution. She
showed us a few magic tricks she had learned from her father and
revealed their secrets. We thought about them and discussed how we
could use them as war tactics.

These discussions helped Sobutay and I
understand the principle that one’s enemy sees things the way they
are present, and thus, can be distracted and surprised as you carry
out what you want in another direction. We understood that a man
makes decisions (and mistakes) based on the situation he feels he
is in at the moment.

We often gathered in the tent of the Khan
and listened to the stories he and his generals told of great
battles. One night, when my father was particularly drunk on
koumiss, he told us a memorable tale:

“In ancient times, there was a little
shepherd boy living in a remote corner of a small Mongolian
kingdom. Before he left home, his mother always gave him a little
food and a sheep pelt full of grass to practice wrestling. Time
passed, and the boy grew up and got stronger. His mother began to
fill the sheep pelt with water and, then, with stones. When her
child became a young man and the sheep pelt became light to him,
she changed it for a bull pelt and filled it with stones.”

“The boy’s fame soon went beyond the
village, and his mother sent him to compete in the biggest
wrestling tournament in the kingdom. It didn’t take long for the
young man to dominate the competition and knock out whoever was in
his way. The king was astonished and promised to lavish gifts on
the young man on the condition that he won wrestling competitions
in neighboring countries. So, with the permission of his mother,
the young shepherd went to the neighboring kingdom and came into
the presence of the king.”

“When he arrived, the king said, ‘What do
you want? Why have you come here?’”

“The young man answered, ‘I am here to
defeat your wrestlers.’”

“The king called all the wrestlers from
every part of his kingdom. Normally, wrestlers would fight each
other one at a time and whoever defeated his opponent in the final
won the competition, but, this time, the king ordered everyone, in
succession, to fight with the young visitor. When the king saw that
the young man was knocking out each wrestler, he sent wrestlers on
him two or three at a time, but the young man knocked out sixty
wrestlers without even sweating.”

“The king exclaimed, ‘Well done! You win!
Your reward is the treasure in the barn behind that hill. You can
go and have it.’”

“Victorious and proud, the young man went to
the barn to claim his reward, but when he entered he came face to
face with a giant, red-eyed bull. The angry beast looked like it
had been waiting for him in the darkness for days. Without
hesitating, the young man grabbed the horns of the bull, knocked it
down, and tamed it. Then the two set off together. Upon hearing
this, the king, in his greed, sent a human-flesh-eating camel upon
the pair. The young man tamed the camel, too, and made it follow
him back to his country. Refusing to concede defeat, the king sent
hundred of soldiers after the young man, and just as the shepherd
was about to enter his lands, he was surrounded and trapped and
died among the soldiers before he reached his country.”

“Upon hearing of the death of her son, his
mother cried and begged her king to respond. The king dismissed her
request by saying, ‘It isn’t worth destroying our friendship with
the neighboring kingdom for a crazy young man.’”

With that my father grew silent and sipped
his koumiss.

Sobutay and I looked at each other. We
didn’t understand that his story was over. We also realized we
didn’t understand what he meant with the story, but we pretended to
understand so as not to make the situation more difficult. When my
father blacked out, we immediately ran away.

…

Things were different with my mother. When
we got my mother alone in the tent of the Khan, we had the most
enjoyable moments. My mother had us sit around her, gave us little
gifts, and spoke sweetly to us. The story we made her tell most
frequently was the one about how the female wolf had come to us and
how my father had saved her when she was kidnapped just after their
marriage.

Being shy at first, she would soon get
engrossed in the story and tell us about it at length. She also
wouldn’t fail to tell us the story of how my father fell in love
with her and chose her as his partner when she was a little girl.
But we didn’t want to hear that story. We preferred to hear about
the wolf, war, and revenge.

My mother told us that when my great-great
grandfather was the eldest son of the Khan, he began to live among
the wolves. Much later, he was found and brought back, but he was
never the same again. When I asked my father about it, he avoided
the subject and said they were all made-up stories. I also learned
not to ask him about my mother’s kidnapping and how my father had
rescued her. It was much better to let the storm clouds gather
above you than to invite them to smash you.

The Tatars, whose hatred my grandfather had
garnered when he kidnapped my grandmother, had waited for my father
to get married to exact their revenge. At night, they attacked the
caravan of the newly married couple, wounded my father, and took my
mother prisoner. It led to a long costly war that ended with a
massacre.

My mother was a slave in the tribe of the
Tatars for a long time. She had no one, and she was tortured even
though she was pregnant. Only the wolf—whose sudden appearance was
a mystery—was beside her. Although the Tatars tried to chase it
away and kill it, they eventually let it stay out of fear and
respect.

When my father recovered, gathered his army
and attacked the Tatars to get revenge, the wolf protected my
mother during the battle and even ripped out the throats of a few
Tatars. It never left my mother alone.

After my father put everyone, even the
sheep, to the sword, he took my mother and returned home. The wolf
followed them back. My father, who disliked dogs, moved to kill the
wolf, but my mother stayed his hand told him how it had helped her.
When they settled at home, the wolf remained close by. Shortly
after they returned, I was born, and all night long, the wolf
howled on a faraway hill beneath the shadow of the moonlight.

After my birth, the wolf stopped following
and protecting my mother and instead began to follow me. It was
always by my side, even when I was a baby, and sometimes it would
even breastfeed me while I slept beside it.

Even though I was born of his beloved wife,
I was never seen as the real son of Ghengis Khan. None would say it
to my face, but they would talk about it. I, however never talked
about it. I was simply Cuci: a guest. I was respected and
protected, but I would never be a crown prince.

West

Time passed rapidly on the steppe. Sobutay
and I grew up and became young warriors. I got taller, my muscles
grew stronger, and I consistently fought whoever stood in my way.
Sobutay’s own success in battle and his courage allowed him to rise
as well. As a commander of a division, he performed miracles and
was respected by everyone. All the while, Selen remained in the
background, and each time, upon returning home after long
campaigns, we would find her a little more grown up, and more
beautiful.

The female wolf had grown old now. As best
as it could, it tried to be with me, but, one day, it suddenly
disappeared. I looked for it everywhere. I asked everyone, but it
was nowhere to be found. I never would have guessed how painful it
would be to lose something so important from my life. The wolf had
always been with us and now it was gone. I had never felt such
sadness.

After months of war and a few short
campaigns without the wolf, I was so excited and relieved when, in
the darkness of night, the wolf slipped once again into my tent. I
cried and hugged and kissed it many times until I realized that it
had a lump of fur in its mouth. A little cub, bluish just her.

When I woke up in the morning, a wolf cub
snored at my feet. The female wolf was no longer there; it was cold
where she had been lying. The cub grew up as if racing with time
and sharing all its memories with me. It never left me. Not until
the end of its life.

The West of the East

With the fall of Beijing, and after a long
and tiring journey, we went back to the steppes where we could once
again breathe. On the way back, our load was ten times larger, but
we had only taken the spoils we found most valuable. We dragged
back thousands of captives—most of whom fell like ninepins along
the way—and carefully chosen craftsmen.

The only spoil I took to my lands was the
distress and sorrow of the death of the wolf and a new goal which I
couldn’t describe. On the way, no one approached me. I didn’t talk
to anyone except Sobutay. Upon returning, I ran to the tent of the
shaman to see Selen. I barely recognized the beautiful girl I
found. Remembering the one I had left and seeing her suddenly so
changed upset me and reminded me that we were no longer
children.

We rode horses to a faraway point on the
rocks where the tents of our people looked like small dots. Turning
our backs to the village, we stared at the setting sun absently and
remained quiet for a long time. Finally, she broke the silence.
“I’m very sorry for the wolf. I loved it almost as much as you.
When the messengers brought the news of victory, they also told me
your story.”

“Nevermind. Let bygones be bygones. Talking
about it will not change anything,” I said, stopping her. I didn’t
want to speak of the wolf anymore.

I turned and looked at Selen, “You grew up a
lot, and changed…and got more beautiful. However, your eyes still
look the same,” I added, trying to change the subject.

She lightly blushed and looked down, acting
as though she wanted to say something.

“
It’s been a long time,” she said
after a while. “Time stopped here without you, and it also brought
boredom and dullness. You changed a lot, too. You have the look of
a real warrior…all those wounds. But the light in your eyes has
gone out.”

“I feel empty, like it’s the end of
everything. What is our aim in life?” I said, suddenly asking an
unexpected question.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Bring yourself
up. Raise your children. Survive as long as you can. And in the
meantime, enjoy it as much as possible. If you are a prince, you
can also add defeating your enemies and changing history.”