Chapter 10
Yukanah to Khanate Rivers,
Chapter 1st Year of the Khanate
(N. Alaska to Athabaskan River, C.AB,1369)
The warriors were ready to fight, and their women and children were out of sight, but it was obvious that they did not expect us to attack or they wouldn’t have been out in the open with their weapons ready but not aimed. Juchi and I approached them leaving the guides behind. They were dressed in reindeer skins with long tails in front and back and decorated with what we later found out were porcupine quills. Their faces were painted red; they wore jewelry and headbands and had feathers in their hair. The jewelry was of shells and bones, not metals. In fact their weapons were primitive wooden spears and bows and clubs made of antlers. There were only about forty or so of them, I could just imagine how long they would last against the Ordu.
Juchi spoke to them in the Inuit tongue, explaining that we were just passing through and meant them no harm. They told him that they had heard about us long before we drew near. It had been noticed that we had taken nothing from the abandoned villages but had passed by even if we did have Inuit among us. They called themselves the Kutchakutchin and wondered if we cared to trade with them. They normally would try to feast us, but since we were so many and they noticed that we weren’t hunting, they thought perhaps we had enough food. They also wanted to have a closer look at the huge dogs we had pulling our large sleds. We reported to Kaidu who was looking them over from a distance. He doubted that they had anything of value to us, but agreed to trade. Our Inuit guides were not at all pleased, but it turned out that was only because they had brought along nothing to trade. It seems this particular group of Kutchins made little for themselves but traded raw materials at what the Inuit considered favorable terms. The raw materials were skins mostly, although we did get some of the reindeer meat to try as well. In deference to our guides, we traded no weapons or metal, just food. We didn’t tarry long, leaving early the next “day.”
We started up this new river (which Kaidu named the Kutcha in honor of the locals) in darkness only to find that while it was very sinuous, the land was very flat, so we were able to save some time. Even though we were going farther north, the twilight seemed to last a little longer each day as we were moving away from the winter solstice. The weather was almost always clear, but occasionally there would be a cloud cover. Although the northern lights did not shine often, the moon would give its eerie silvery light in its fuller phases. There was almost no wind except, of course, that caused by our motion. This was fortunate since it was profoundly cold, and some days it seemed that we could never warm up. Indeed, only activity would warm one, so it was particularly hard on our few remaining elderly. We had been burying our dead in the An’kalym way since reaching the new land and every several days we had another. A few very young children also succumbed, but it was mostly the elderly whom we lost.
The trip up this river went on uneventfully for thirteen days. The slope of the land gradually rose, but not uncomfortably so. We passed an occasional deserted village but no further Kutchins were to be seen. On the thirteenth day, we came to a split where one fork turned directly north. Here our guides left us, promising to send us two others. Since they had been with us so long, they were generously rewarded with most of the things we had gotten from the Kutchins. We stayed at this spot about four days before two dogsleds appeared coming toward us down the river. It turned out these Inuit also knew Juchi and were delighted to see him again. They would take us the rest of the way.
The layover was quite good for us. Not only did the horses get some much-needed rest, but also we all got a chance to rest up. A few of the men went hunting, but were not successful. Most tended the animals and the carts and otherwise took it easy. With Padraig handling all the chores, I was able to just polish up my maps, such as they were and relax. Paula and I were glad to be around each other all day for a change. She helped me name some of the features on my map. She had a good imagination for names.
Our guides took us along the river in an easterly direction for a few days, then turned us south with it, then east again, then finally south. At least that was the way it seemed, there were junctures with other rivers frequently, but our guides were certain of their path. We had turned south just as some high mountains loomed ahead of us; then we finally left the river just after the sun came back in view for a while until the high mountains in the south obscured it again. We continued south, climbing through a sort of pass in the mountains, then descending finally on another river that flowed eastward right through the mountains. It was quite frozen still, which was fortunate since the terrain was very rough here and the river ice provided the easiest passage. We followed this out of the mountains until it turned north; then our guides told us to stay north of the mountains in the foothills until we came out on the Dehcho, about eight days farther away. They went north with the river, and we went east along the foothills. Were it not for the ice, the way would have been much harder. Still we began to get occasional icy winds out of the north, and Juchi assured us that there was nothing vertical between the icy North Sea and us. We were quite relieved when we broke through the foothills and could see the Dehcho at last. From this distance, it looked huge, like a solid sheet of ice across a vast valley. As we got closer, we could see that it was a wide river snaking along a flat plain dotted with lakes. Since spring was fairly close, we decided to stay on the higher ground but turn southeast up the river and follow it to the endless steppe.
The mountains rose fairly precipitously from the plain here, so we found ourselves getting closer to the river. There were spruce forests laced with larch and aspen, but they were not impenetrable. Mostly along the river the trees were small or spread out with open spots in between. We began to see some of the promised game, although only from a distance since the Ordu spooked them up the hills into the deeper wood. Juchi’s reindeer were bigger than ours and had much larger antlers. The elk were about the same as ours though. We did not turn aside for hunting since Kaidu wanted to get as far south as possible before the tundra turned into a quagmire as it thawed. We had passed some abandoned villages of mean-looking double lean-tos, but had seen no natives. We decided that if we were to meet any, we would have to send out the vanguard again as Juchi had warned us. So he and I and a few others set off on dogsleds ahead of the Ordu to try and find some natives.
It took a few days, but we surprised a small group of hunters returning to their camp carrying two of the reindeer. Since we were few, they waited for us to reach them, perhaps thinking we were Inuit looking to trade. As we drew near, they became agitated and held their weapons at the ready. As we reached them and made no move to our weapons (that they could see), they lowered theirs and welcomed us, puzzled by our attire and bewildered by my appearance. Using the Inuit tongue, Juchi explained that we were the lead elements of our tribe, which was migrating to the endless grassland to the south. We meant them no harm and only wondered what lay ahead.
They asked if our tribe was the huge one with giant dogs and sleds that had been seen coming up the Dehcho. We said it was, but again assured them we meant to pass by, and indeed had taken no game on our trek, and so were doing them no ill. This seemed to pacify them, but they pleaded with us not to go through their village, which was on the far side on the Dehcho. We told them we planned to stay on this side of the river, and follow it southeast to the grassland. Finally, they agreed to help. It seems their tribe was called the Kawchodinne, which meant ‘people of the great hares,’ since they originally subsisted largely on that small animal. There were scattered groups of them all about this area and more on the far side of the Dehcho. To the southeast, we would find first a related tribe called the Etchareottine, or ‘people dwelling in the shelter,’ since they lived along rivers and streams sheltered by willows; then we would encounter the Tatsanottine, or ‘people of the scum of water’ (this proved to be what they called copper). The former were a peaceful timid tribe that subsisted largely on fish, but the latter were bold aggressive hunters who ranged far and wide and took advantage of their neighbors since they had most of the copper. Farther south we would encounter the Tsattine, ‘dwellers among the beavers,’ in the west and the Thilanottine, ‘dwellers at the foot of the head’ (head of a glacier it seemed), in the east. The former were bold hunters of the forests, and the latter hunted and fished along the rivers, lakes, and the sea. They were peaceful, but great liars. Beyond them, he wasn’t sure, but whoever was there was not Tinneh.
We thanked them for their help and asked if one of their men would care to join us, teach us their language, and help us pass through their country by the quickest path. They talked this over among themselves for a while and finally one of the younger ones stepped forward. He agreed to go with us to safeguard his tribe, since he was unmarried and had a brother who could look after his parents. His Inuit was a bit sketchy, but he would teach us his language. All seemed pleased or perhaps relieved with this arrangement, and we returned with our prize, one Nitsiza. He was dressed mostly in the fur of the hare for which his tribe was named with some reindeer hide touches. His face was rather flat with high cheekbones, his weapons were primitive (wood and bone), but he did have a copper knife. As we drew near the Ordu, he was either frightened or resigned, but he was a pitiful sight. We fed him, then showed him around the camp, bringing him in to meet Kaidu. The latter was pleased with our report and our guest whom he entrusted to Juchi. Gradually, as we moved on, both Juchi and I picked up his rather simple language, but as he got used to us and learned how to use our weapons and ride a horse, he wanted to stay with us.
After ten days, the Dehcho veered to the east, while the foothills seemed to continue southeast. Nitsiza told us the Dehcho would lead us to a great lake, but the plain was much farther south. Also the land around the lake was very marshy, and it was quite far out of the way. Four days later, we crossed another large river (which I named for our guide). He said it flowed into the Dehcho to the northeast. We continued south along this river for four days, then swung east up another river between mountains to its source, a moderately sized lake where we finally encountered some natives, or at least saw them flee away to the north. They were Tsattine, Nitsiza assured us. There was a strange sort of aspen growing along some of the rivers along the way. It seemed to dominate where it occurred. We had nothing in the old land quite like it that I could remember. There was a lot more spruce than we had, and much less larch. Most of the other trees looked familiar, even the ones still without leaves. It was noticeably warmer, although we did get snowed upon on occasion. The ground was appearing in patches, and the snow was getting soft during the day but hard at night. The lake was still frozen, but the ice did not appear very thick.
We turned south again arriving at the banks of a river nine days later. This river had very steep banks but proved to be frozen over still. While the higher ground was mostly dotted with spruce, the shore of the river was covered with aspen and poplar trees, making it even harder to get the wagons across. We lost a day trying to find a place where we could cross without too much difficulty. We finally found a spot where a stream joined it on our side, and there was another on the other side a little farther south. Using these two outlets, we were able to cross the river, but it was not easy, and we still had some trouble getting out of the streambed and onto the higher plain. We decided to call that river the Deep-cut River. Kaidu was fairly certain we would never cross it again.
Over the next seven days, we moved progressively south, and as we did, we seemed to move into early spring. The snow on the ground was staying soft longer, the patches of ground were becoming larger, and the streams and small lakes we passed were thawing. Early green shoots could be seen dotting the brown patches of open ground and poking through the fast-melting snow. Still we did get caught in a late snowstorm, which held us up for a while one day. It was not too deep and didn’t really hold back the melt for long. We arrived on the banks of a rather large lake. There was still ice in it, but it was too thin to walk on. It was a long lake from west to east but narrow north to south. It was graced with at least two deserted villages, still the Tsattine according to Nitsiza.
We continued south and three days later came in sight of another large river. This proved to be a raging torrent of melt water with large ice chunks floating in it, so we had to stay put for a while. We made camp on some high ground above the river and took the opportunity to convert our sleds back into wagons and retire the dogsleds. There was little snow left on the ground by now, and already grass and flowers were beginning to come up. We let our herds out of their pontoons and began cleaning everything up, especially ourselves, even though the water in the streams was quite cold. A group of the men went out to hunt. Some tried fishing. All of us were glad to be out of the bitter north into what seemed like a perfect country for us.
I decided to look around a bit and flesh out my maps during our layover, and Paula, Mathilde, and Padraig came along. It was very much like our journey to join the Ordu, and we all greatly enjoyed it. We went back up to the lake so I could get its contours right; then we followed a small river flowing from its east terminus into a larger river. This latter we followed upstream, and it proved to be the one that had halted us. As we came back into camp, we found that the hunters had been quite successful, finding elk, deer, and a very large reindeer almost the size of an elk. One of the men had seen a small herd of strange animals that were likely Juchi’s southern oxen, but the way he described them, they sounded more like yaks with smaller horns and heavier fur. He had seen that a group of natives were stalking them, so he hadn’t gone any closer. Several of the Ordu also mentioned seeing natives, but only from a distance. It seems they had been spying out our encampment, but had not approached, even at night. Just in case, Kaidu had doubled the guard.
I found Juchi and Nitsiza and asked the latter if he thought the locals would try to attack or steal from us. He was sure they would do neither, but were naturally curious about us and, especially, our intentions. He offered to go alone to them to explain that we were moving on and meant them no harm. He thought they might help since he no longer knew the land around here well enough to guide us surely. I asked him about the tribal organization, and he said there was none, each band was pretty much on its own, hunting, fishing, and gathering what was available and trading for what was not available with whomever they met. They would help other bands in need and would be helped in turn also. Their “leader” was not endowed with much authority. It seemed he was sort of “first” among equals, no more. He was usually the best or most skilled hunter, and if he proved to be ineffective, he would be replaced. The position was not at all hereditary, although it might happen to be by chance. I wondered if he found it difficult to adjust to our ways. He admitted that we did seem to have many more than one chief and did not really allow for argument or even disagreement with orders, but expected them to be obeyed without question. He seemed to have no inkling of the concepts of discipline, authority, and order, but in the bleak environment where he was raised, reality was harsh enough and survival was more important than order. He did have to admit we had many wonderful things, and he was prepared to compromise to get them and our easier life. For my part, I could not imagine a life without discipline and authority. It would be so uncertain, dangerous. I wondered what Givevneu would think of this, since he, too, was from a harsh climate. But more to the point, we brought Nitsiza to Kaidu to again make his offer. He thought it a good idea and bid him go but return in four days, because he wanted to move on. By the stars he could tell that we were still north of the Karamuren, and he was determined to settle well south of that on the promised, endless steppe.
Nitsiza insisted he should go alone. While he was gone, Kaidu called a sort of general assembly of all the people. It was difficult arranging this, but we spread out on a hillside that formed a wedge. We all sat on the ground, and he sat on his horse, a beautiful white stallion, in front of us. His voice was strong and clear, and I doubt if anyone could not hear him.
“For several years, I have kept most of you in the dark about my intentions,” he began. “This was necessary for security reasons and because there was much uncertainty in my plans. I have always felt responsible for your welfare, and I could see only disaster in staying in the old Khanate. The options were few and not very promising on our old side of the Great Sea, but on this side there are seemingly unending possibilities. Our scouts have confirmed my optimism, or I would never have brought you here. The future looks very bright. There will, of course, be problems, but I have weeded out those who might carry the seeds of our destruction to this new land. You are all true Mongols, ‘The Brave,’ and here we can forge a true Mongol Khanate, in the image the immortal Chingis would approve. I have brought you here and lead you this far. The time has come for us to become a Khanate. For that you need a Khan. If you wish it, I will be your Khan, if you do not, I will step aside for the man of your choice. What is your will?”
I truly believe the earth shook with the roar of the Ordu. Swords were beaten against shields—men, women and children screamed out “Kaidu, Kaidu, Kaidu…” like a battle cry. Kaidu looked us all over drinking in the vote of confidence, a look of triumph in his eye. Then he held up his hand for silence.
“So be it then,” he said. “We will be called the Khanate of the Blue Sky, after our guide, our soul, our strength, the God Tengri. We will open our Khanate to all of our new neighbors who are worthy and willing to join. We will greet all with an open hand of friendship and peace, but it will close into a fist of steel if not treated with respect. We have many advantages over these people; they have no horses, no herds, and no steel. It would be unworthy to wantonly conquer them. For now, they can join us, or not, in peace. But should they strike at us, we will utterly destroy them. No one will be allowed to treat the Mongols shamefully. Those who join us must be accepted by you as equals and trained and equipped to be Mongols. They can teach us much about this land and can be of immeasurable help to us. It is unworthy of a Mongol to be ungrateful or arrogant. Do you still want me to be your Khan?”
Again the thunderous roar shook the ground. Pleased, he dismissed us. There was much excited chattering about the new “status” of the Ordu. We had always been a mean, rough frontier group with leather armor and sparse brass ornamentation. We all had excellent arms and knew how to use them, but there was no inlay or engraving or any of the flash so common in the capital. So it was that we had long been given little respect or thought, for that matter, in Khanbalikh, the capital. Indeed, we had been all but forgotten until the Khan was in dire straits. Now we were the nucleus of a new Khanate. My brother Henry, ever practical, sought me out to advise me of a problem I should have foreseen.
“Karl,” he said, “if these people have no horses, because there aren’t any here, does that mean they have no iron because there is none?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied, shaken by the obvious implication. “I was taught that it could be found everywhere if one knew what to look for. Iron ore doesn’t look like anything special, just like rock. I’m sure we’ll find some. I know what to look for and I’ll look for it. How much iron do you have?”
“Enough for the Ordu,” he shrugged, “but if I have to outfit several thousand natives with swords, shields, and arrows, it won’t work.”
“For now, I’d only make arrow points,” I suggested. “It takes time to learn to use a sword, but they all seem to use bows. As for armor they can use leather, like most of us do.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded. “But do find me some more iron, and coal. I can’t melt iron ore very efficiently with wood, even using the double piston bellows. I have enough for a while, but only a while.”
I had not seen any mountain that looked like it might have iron ore or coal, but then, until just recently, everything had been covered in snow and ice anyway. Perhaps I could train Nitsiza to help me find some iron. Three days later, he returned leading a small group of natives. These looked much like he did when we first found him except that they wore reindeer skins. Their language was much like his, and Juchi and I could understand it fairly well. It seemed this small group of young men had decided to join us as Nitsiza had, to get the things he had. Especially they wanted the large dogs and the magic bow with the strange tipped arrows that were stronger than stone. We explained that in order to join us, they would have to become Mongols—they could no longer be Tsattine. They would have to obey orders immediately and without question. Their very lives would be in the hands of our Khan, Kaidu. This took them aback for a bit, but they asked Nitsiza if he had agreed to all this, and when he said he had, they agreed also. I had to wonder, but we brought the group in to Kaidu, and he agreed to give them a chance. He dismissed them and then told Juchi and me to stay.
“Because of our new status as a Khanate, I have promoted all the officers one grade. None of them have the proper complement of men yet, but I am sure we will fill out the ranks in time. I have just had a meeting with the new minghan and tumen commanders,” he began, “and of course with our shaman. You two have a very special place in our Ordu, one you have earned with much hard work and no little danger. For that reason I will now also consider you both as the equivalent of tumen commanders. You have special duties, so you will not actually command a tumen for now, but that will be your rank. You both now answer only to me. Does this please you?”
We were both too stunned to do more than stammer our thanks and express gratitude in his confidence in us.
“There is more,” he continued. “As I told your fellow commanders, when we find the right spot, we will start to organize our Khanate and assign tasks. Meanwhile, we must grow. I think the group our Nitsiza brought in will be adequate, but I’m sure as we go south, we will find more suitable recruits. Whole tribes would be best or at least whole bands. I realize, from what you’ve learned about the natives, that they are not organized as we, but if you find a group that might at least show promise of becoming true Mongols, bring me their leaders. I need you to go ahead of us again, with your group of natives, as soon as they are trained, and find me some potential Mongols. We cross the river in three days. Do what you can to train that group, leave a few to guide us, and go ahead and find what you’ll find. Of course, Raven, I want maps.”
Well, of course, responsibility always comes with promotion, but we were both surprised that he would trust us to find and recruit whole tribes for the Ordu. Especially after he spent all that time weeding out undesirables. We went immediately to talk to our latest recruits. They could certainly show us the way to the steppe. There were other people between our destination and us, however. These included a splinter group of Tsattine that had more or less attached themselves to the Siksika, who along with their relatives, the Kaina and the Piegans were just to the south and southeast. Farther to the east, we would find the Kensistenoug. They were not Tinneh, but their language could be understood with some difficulty. The first three were allied tribes or large bands that lived in crude wood-framed hide tents and hunted the ox or yaklike creature on the plains and in the surrounding forest. The latter group was scattered far to the east and hunted and gathered in the forest mostly but sometimes on the plains. The former were aggressive, always at war when it was in their favor, the latter were also aggressive and had pushed the former westward. They were also shrewd traders. It was quite likely that the portraits were colored more than just a bit with prejudice, but it would be the first time we encountered natives that could be called “aggressive.” Perhaps these would be our recruits.
Three days later, we were packed up and on our way across the river (I had named it the Khanate River in honor of Kaidu’s proclamation) on our pontoon bridge. The Tsattine and Nitsiza were much taken with the wagons. It seems that they had never seen wheels before and were amazed at the concept. Nitsiza admitted that he had been sure we would not be able to move our heavy “sleds” once the snow melted. I could see why the wheel was of limited use in the North Country, but figured it would be quite common in the south. To our surprise, none of the native peoples we encountered used the wheel, although that quickly changed. While the bridge was being retrieved, our little vanguard set off ahead. We would stay a li or so ahead looking for favorable terrain and sending back any necessary direction changes. Four days later, we came to another river requiring our pontoons to cross. We swam our horses across to check out the other side, while the pontoons were being set up. On the other side, we noticed some rapids a little upstream and went to look at them. About halfway there, a native suddenly stood up from behind some rocks and stared at us for a moment; then he turned and started to run away. We reined in and sent Nitsiza to ride after him and call to him. He stopped at the familiar language and turned back. We could see him talking to Nitsiza a while; then he came back to us with the native. We rode slowly forward to meet them.