Chapter 7
The Return, 38th year of Toghon Temur
(E. Siberia, 1368)
On the return trip across the sea, I prevailed upon Naukum to let us spend a night on the ice since I doubted that the carts could make it to the island in one day. He told me I would regret it, but agreed. We camped in the lee of an ice ridge to at least escape the wind. All through the night, we were assailed with shrieks, hisses, crashes, crunches, pops, and other assorted unpleasant noises, the loudest of which would inspire a chorus of “song” from the dogs. It is doubtful that I have ever spent a worse night in my life. In the morning, the smiling Naukum reminded me that he had warned me. I spent a good deal of time after that trying to think of a way to get the carts across quickly enough to avoid a night on the ice.
We returned to Naukum’s village uneventfully, and I prevailed on him to speed me on my way back to the Chavchuvat village. He sent a pair of men with me, one to handle Juchi’s sled and the other to return them both home. We returned by the same path to the first An’kalym village on the large bay. Here I was pressed to stay a day and tell stories and Naukum’s men were replaced with locals for the rest of the journey. I arrived at the Chavchuvat village some thirty-eight days after leaving Juchi.
The Chavchuvat greeted me enthusiastically, but asked after Juchi. I assured them he was well much to their relief. They also closely looked over the sleds and dogs and agreed I had returned all in good shape. However, they strongly recommended that I stick with the dogsled, rather than try to take the horses if I insisted on returning to my “village” in midwinter. I had to admit that was logical, but I had the feeling it would be very difficult to pry the horses loose from them when we returned. They treated them like pets and showed them off to all visitors. I would have thought they would find them to be more trouble than they were worth, but indeed they doted on them. So they loaded me up with dried fish and a fresh dog team, and I started back the way I had come, retracing my steps with more ease than one would think after all this time, but I was endowed with a remarkable sense of direction. I did, indeed, make better time with the dogs than we had with the poor horses once the snow hit, but was unsure how long the snow and ice would last.
I needn’t have worried. Everything remained frozen all the way back. The only problem I had was a few tense moments whenever I entered a village. The Chavchuvat were not very popular among the other natives, and I was driving one of their sleds and dressed like their relatives, the An’kalym, but all was well when they saw my face. They all remembered me and asked after Juchi and our horses. They congratulated me on realizing the sled was the best mode of travel in the winter and on getting hold of some warm clothes, even if they had belonged to the enemy. I did have to tell stories every night I stayed with the natives, but it meant I was fed and so were my dogs. This helped stretch the dried fish out for the whole trip. So it was that some eighty days after leaving the Chavchuvat I found myself breaking through the woods and approaching the river that was the last point on Arughtu’s map, and there, camped on this side of the still-frozen river, was the Ordu.
Surprised, but delighted, I hurried up to them. Again I was intercepted by guards and again had to bare my head to be recognized and endure much teasing about my herd of small “horses.” I hurried on to Kaidu’s tent since he wanted to see us the moment we returned. I was ushered in immediately, and he ordered everyone out and sent for the shaman. He bade me sit and gave me a bowl of broth to warm up. When Givevneu arrived, he turned to me for my report. I was not surprised that he hadn’t asked about Juchi, for that would be considered weak, but I put him at ease by starting off with Juchi sending his greetings and was rewarded with a barely perceptible smile. Then I gave a detailed account of the journey leaving nothing out. Using my map as a reference, I showed them where there were villages that would likely trade food, where the rivers would be hard to cross, where the forage was adequate, etc. The two men listened intently and silently, not once interrupting me. Then I turned to the eastern land, telling them what we had found out and why Juchi thought it best to stay and scout out our path to the north-flowing river, which drained the endless plain, a most promising place for horses. I regretted that I had not actually seen the plain but had no reason to doubt the story since the Inuit seemed very open and honest, and had nothing to gain by lying.
Kaidu asked why the last part of my map was so sketchy compared to the first, and I explained how almost all landscape was lost in the coating of snow and ice in the frozen northland winter, especially when the sea freezes over. But even so, the natives were so helpful, they guided us unerringly by landmarks seen only by them. Also that leg of the journey would be best made in winter over the frozen sea just as we had done, and we thought there might be some way to temporarily convert the Ordu’s carts to sleds.
“Of course!” Kaidu’s eyes lit up. “We could immobilize the wheels and attach wooden runners. I’ve been concerned about our deliberate pace. Excellent! You and Juchi have done very well! Givevneu was right about everything. The people of the north are mostly peaceful and all were helpful. The sea crossing is possible in the winter, and the eastern land will likely have horse country. Now, Raven, perhaps you wonder how it is you found us here, rather than where you left us. It seems the miserable excuse for a Khan was reminded of our existence by one of his miscreant advisers and sent a band of soldiers to seek us out and, if possible, bring us to his aid. His world is beginning to fall around him. Some execrable Hanjen peasant has raised an army, proclaimed himself emperor, and is in the process of destroying the remnants of the Khanate. No doubt we are to turn the tide in his favor all by ourselves, or more likely act as his rear guard while he flees to Karakorum. Happily, we got wind of this and withdrew well beyond his reach and bribed the locals to forget they had ever seen us. Fortunately, we were able to gather one more harvest before we left the lake, and we are really quite well stocked for the trip.”
“You realized, then, that the forage on the way would never suffice?” I asked, impressed by his planning.
“Of course,” he shrugged, gesturing toward Givevneu, “our shaman had his eyes open when he came to us. I had hoped there would be some forage, but we have enough grain to feed the livestock in the absence of any until next spring.”
“Perfect,” I was relieved, “that is just what you’ll need. I also think you should set out immediately, for it is a very long way and with the carts you cannot travel as fast as we did. Also the frozen rivers will be easier to cross than rushing ones and the frozen marshes easier than the thawed ones.”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “We have only been waiting for your return before pressing on, and would not have long waited for that. Do you recommend we follow your route exactly?”
“Yes, mostly,” I answered. “I will mark the best route for you. You must stay near the coast even if it means crossing many rivers. Most of them were shallow, but broad and tidal where we crossed.
“No matter,” he smirked, “we have anticipated river crossings, and can put together a pontoon bridge across a fair-sized river, but it would cost us a day or so to do it, so we’ll try and avoid the necessity.”
“I am amazed!” I stared at him. “You really have thought of everything.”
“Not really.” He again indicated Givevneu. “Our shaman did. Now on a more personal note, did my grandson behave like a good Mongol? Did he bring any grief on you with his bad temper? Answer me freely, it is most important.”
“Juchi was a credit to the Ordu,” I answered candidly. “Throughout our journey he bore all hardships and adversities without any complaint. He was cheerful and did at least his fair share of the work. As to being a good Mongol, he is no doubt even now ensuring that you have as many descendants as possible throughout the North.”
At this Kaidu dissolved into gales of raucous laughter in which Givevneu and I joined. When at last he regained his composure, he thanked me again and suggested that I lose no time in getting my betrothed and rejoining the Ordu as soon as possible. He would assign me horses to replace those of my brother’s I had left behind and for my journey south to fetch my bride. He wished me luck on my journey, cautioned me not to tell anyone about the Ordu or its destination, and again urged me to hurry back for I would be needed.
On leaving Kaidu, I gathered up the dogsled and went straight to my brother’s yurt. After cleaning up and changing out of my An’kalym clothes, I told Henry and his family a little about the north and its winter without telling too much. I made sure the dogs and sled would be cared for and promised to show my nephews how to use them when I got back with Paula. I turned in early for a much-needed rest. The next day I copied my map and marked the best route for the Ordu and took it to Kaidu. He sent me back with the promised horses. I started to get things ready for my trip south just as the Ordu was told to get ready to move north in the morning. Even though she was busy, Doqus fixed me up with food for a few months. That evening, Yesui told me she wanted to show me something. I followed her out to one of the carts and found she had made me my own yurt. It was all finished and waiting my return with my bride. I couldn’t believe she had done all that work by herself. I thanked her profusely and made her promise to live with us, much to her delight. I could see, however, that her labor of love through the winter had much weakened her. I sincerely hoped she would still be with the Ordu when I returned.
Early the next morning while the yurts were being taken down and put in the carts, I set off across the still-frozen river leading my four horses. I pulled up on a rise just beyond the last channel and looked back. The Ordu was well under way, its leading elements just disappearing into the woods. I marveled at the sight and wondered what the people of the north would think when they saw its approach. The Ordu was much bigger than any village we had encountered in the north. It would be an interesting confrontation.
I mostly retraced my path since the land was so mountainous and rough. Some seven days after leaving the Ordu, I found myself at the still-frozen Amgun and made an easy crossing, then followed it upstream, eventually picking up the trail I had taken to find the Ordu the previous summer. Retracing my path, some thirteen days later, I pulled into the same Nanai village that had directed me to the Ordu. Not surprisingly, I was recognized, profusely greeted and prevailed upon to stay with them for a day. I thought it best to do so since the horses needed a rest and I would likely be coming back this way on my return. They confirmed that some Mongols had come the previous fall looking for the Ordu, but the Nanai had denied any knowledge of the Ordu as requested, and said that the Mongols had returned south to the Karamuren and gone east along the river for a while questioning the other villages, before giving up and returning south along the Sungari. I thanked them on behalf of the Ordu. Of course, at night I had to tell stories. I was getting good at this, using dramatic pauses and emphasis to good effect. They sat spellbound and made me promise to come back through their village on my return.
I reached the Karamuren two days after leaving the village. The spring thaw had begun, and the river was frozen but with a layer of water over the ice. I thought it best to cross quickly, before it began to break up. I was just downstream from where the Bira enters the Karamuren when I crossed, so two days later I arrived in sight of the Sungari. It was flooding since an ice dam at its juncture with the Karamuren blocked its natural flow. I turned south, and as the daylight was waning, I saw a small camp nearby. There was only one cart, but a moderate number of horses, so I decided to approach it cautiously in hopes of getting some news of what lay ahead. As I drew near, I could see there were only six people in the camp, and they were preparing their evening meal. They stopped when they saw me, but since I was alone, they waited for me. When I got close enough to see faces, I was shocked to find they were all Ferengi like me. They were also surprised and called to an older man who was still in the cart.
As he came up, I recognized Paula’s uncle. I was speechless, but he broke into a big smile and shouted back to the cart the magic word “Paula.” And there she was standing before me. I jumped off the horse and ran to her. I stopped. We looked at each other, embraced, kissed, cried, looked at each other again, embraced again, laughed, etc., without saying more than each other’s names. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her. I was so besotted, that her uncle sat us down so the others could eat without being rude. Finally, I realized that I was filthy from my trip, and this brought me back to reality. I flushed crimson, apologized profusely, and ran to the river to remedy the situation. Upon my return, I was introduced to the others and sat down to catch up on things.
It seemed that the situation in the Khanate had completely degenerated. Zhu Yuanzhang the self proclaimed Hanjen Emperor, had named his new dynasty “Ming” and marched north. Foreigners were not welcome in the new empire, so the group thought it prudent to flee while they still could. Paula and her uncle had prevailed upon their companions to accompany them this far north in the hope they would encounter me on my way to Khanbalikh. They had been concerned since no one seemed to know anything about an Ordu nearby and had feared the worst. Paula and her uncle had vowed to wait until the monsoon began and the others had agreed to wait also. I asked after my grandfathers and found that George had died early in the winter, leaving me some books (all Hanjen tomes), and everything else to his assistant. Peter found himself abandoned by most of his Hanjen “friends” and had gone off to join a tribe of Merkit Christians who needed a priest. Poor man, I thought, trapped with “barbarians” for the rest of his life. I was sorry I would never see Grandfather George again, but had to admit, it was best for him to die before the city fell to the invaders. At least he died in peace.
I told the group that I had found kin in the north, and they were planning a great adventure up there. I wanted to be a part of that adventure unless Paula insisted otherwise. She looked at me with shining eyes and said she only insisted that I take her with me. My heart leapt for joy. Her uncle had no interest in adventure or the north and planned to go on to Karakorum. He was very grateful that he had been able to see to his niece’s happiness. I was touched by his confidence in me.
Of the others in the group, one young couple asked if they could go with us. They were a little older than us and felt that adventure, even in the north, was preferable to running away to Karakorum. Unsure of what to say, I asked them about themselves. It seems that they, like me, were born in Khanbalikh. Their fathers had been in the service of the Khan, but had passed away. Seeing the hopelessness of the situation, they had decided to leave. The man’s name was Padraig O’Byrne. His people were from an island far to the west, but he couldn’t recall its name. It seems they were all warriors, and that was his training as well. His wife’s name was Mathilde, and her people were from the northern coast of France, so she was a real Ferengi. Her father had been a relative of Pierre Boucher, the great metalworker to the Great Khan Kubilai. He had not been as skilled, however, and worked more humbly. Oddly, she had not heard of my grandfather George, but Khanbalikh was very large and she had lived in the northern part of the city.
I warned them of the hardship of the north, but they were not put off. So I told them that they could accompany us, but it was not my decision whether they could stay with my kin, it would be up to our “patriarch.” They were still not put off, but I asked if they felt any loyalty to the Khan. To this Padraig asked, “What Khan?” I hoped Kaidu would not be angry with me for bringing them along, but saw no viable alternative. Before we turned in for the night, Paula’s uncle took her and my right hands and asked us each in turn if we wanted to be married. We both replied we did, and he joined our hands together and told us we were now married. Since I looked puzzled, he told me that a marriage was a contract between a man and a woman witnessed by a third party, so unless we objected, we were married. Who was I to question such wisdom? Everyone congratulated us, and he set up a small tent for us a little away from the rest. That night my life became complete.
The next day, I thought it prudent to set off while the Karamuren was still frozen, so we parted company. Paula’s things were only enough for one horse to carry and the others had also traveled lightly. We bid our farewells and set off northward, while the others started off southward up the Sungari. The Karamuren was still frozen, but would not be for long. The water was six inches deep over the ice, and in places the ice moved under our feet. It was with great relief when we finally got across. Two days later, we crossed the still-frozen Bira and continued on to the village I had promised to revisit. When they heard I had gotten married, they had a big celebration for us. It took us a few days to get away, but we were loaded up with dried fish before we left. Paula was very impressed with my storytelling, even if she couldn’t understand Nanai.
I again retraced the same path northward, but this time the pace was slower. We did much talking, some hunting, and would stop sometimes just to look at beauty. For it was early spring, and flowers were coming up everywhere. The ice and snow were melting, the days were warmer, but the nights were still quite cool. We crossed the Amgun as soon as we reached it, where it was still fairly shallow, but very cold. The ground began to soften in the day and freeze again at night, at least for a while. Then, just before we reached the coast, clouds of mosquitoes rose to assault us whenever we passed standing water. It was necessary to camp up on the ridges and go closer to the coast to stay in the mosquito-discouraging breeze. After some twenty-four days, we finally arrived at the river where I had parted with the Ordu earlier in the winter to fetch my bride.
The river was thawed and very cold but not too hard to cross. To my surprise, it was quite evident that there had been a large encampment where the Ordu hadcamped. I would have thought the spring thaw would have erased all trace of them being here, but, although grass and flowers were everywhere, there were clear signs of the camp and the livestock having been here. I felt it was only fair to tell Padraig and his wife what I had already told Paula in secret, that it was not just my kin we were joining, but also the Ordu. I explained that I was not to tell anyone, but at this point it could do no harm. They were a little hurt, I could tell, because we had grown quite close along the trail, but they had to admit I had no choice and were pleased I had finally told them. They still wanted to go along, but were concerned about Kaidu’s interview. I told them as much as I could about what could disqualify them, and they were encouraged that they might pass his test.
Since the Ordu had a sixty day lead on me, I figured it would take us about forty days to catch them, unless they were moving much faster than I expected. It did seem that they had greatly depressed the game along their path, for we found little besides the occasional game bird to vary our fare. We followed steadily in their increasingly obvious wake. As the ground thawed, the cartwheels left deeper ruts. The first natives we encountered some twenty days later at the first large river delta were pleased to see me again. They admitted that the sight of the Ordu had been unsettling, but a smaller contingent had come into their camp first to talk about trade, before the whole had come into view, so all had gone well, and they were very happy with the bows and other goods they had gotten in trade. I think they were also happy that the Ordu had moved on. More to the point, they indicated that they had passed through some thirty days or so before, so they were moving faster than I had anticipated. It would likely take another forty days to catch them.
Twenty days later, we had a fairly easy time of it going through the Wind Valley. I took the detour just in case, but the wind was only at raging thunderstorm strength this time. I wondered how the Ordu had made out crossing it. Some five days later, we were near the base of the smoking peninsula and actually could see some of the smoking volcanoes in the distance. As before, the grass looked like it had been well cropped, and had not yet recovered. The north was much different at this time of year. The marshes were covered with blueberry bushes and other low shrubs. On the hillsides and riverbanks were trees and flowers. The latter were of remarkably intense color, deep and bright and pale blues, scarlet to pink reds, intense to opaque yellows, and more. It is hard to believe that anything so colorful was and would soon be again that unrelenting blinding white. And the birds vied with the flowers. Every pond was full of migratory birds, geese, swans, and ducks. Every craggy ridge was full of sea birds, gulls and puffins, especially. The beauty was quite a distraction to Paula. She would stop and point at a field of flowers, a small stream surrounded with trees, a pond, or hill full of birds and exclaim at the beauty. If anything, the long ride had made her more beautiful. She had good color from the long hours of sunlight and fresh air. Her energy and endurance amazed me. I fell in love with her all over again. I was glad we were here at this time and hoped the memory would sustain all of us through the seemingly endless winter ahead.
I felt sure we would soon find the Ordu. But it was not until ten days later that we finally caught them. They were building a pontoon bridge across the river near the Chavchuvat village. The latter were fascinated by the procedure and were all gathered on the far side to watch. The carts and animals were clustered on the slopes of the very row of hills where we had first met the locals. How different the hills looked clothed in vegetation, albeit severely cropped vegetation. As usual we were met and escorted right to Kaidu’s yurt.