The Legend of the Condor Heroes Chapter 40 – Part 7

Tolui feared only that he might not reach his father in time. He left his deputy to lead the army home and rode on ahead at full speed with Guo Jing and Huang Rong, and in less than a month they reached Genghis Khan’s Golden Tent in Western Xia.

From a distance Tolui saw the great nine-yak-tail standard still standing tall before the Golden Tent. Knowing his father was well, he shouted with joy and spurred his horse to the tent.

Guo Jing reined in. He thought of Genghis Khan’s kindness in raising him and the great favour he had shown him, of the wrong of his mother’s death and the horror of the massacres, and love and hatred surged up in him together. He bowed his head in silence.

Suddenly a horn sounded, and two rows of quiver-bearing guards formed up before the Golden Tent. Genghis Khan, clad in black sable, stepped out with his hand on Tolui’s right shoulder. His stride was as proud as ever, but as his foot touched the ground it trembled, and his body shook with the motion.

Guo Jing hurried forward and prostrated himself.

Genghis Khan’s eyes were bright with tears. His voice shook as he spoke, “Rise, rise! Guo Jing, my child, you’ve both come back. Excellent! I have thought of you both every day.”

Guo Jing rose to his feet. The Great Khan’s hair was all white, his face seamed with wrinkles and his cheeks sunken, and it seemed he had few days left in this world. Guo Jing felt his hatred soften.

Genghis Khan placed his other hand on Guo Jing’s left shoulder. He looked at Tolui, then at Guo Jing, and heaved a long sigh. Gazing into the far distance of the desert, he stood lost in thought. Neither Guo Jing nor Tolui dared speak, not knowing what occupied his mind.

After a long while Genghis Khan sighed, “When first Jamukha anda and I swore brotherhood and raised our army, how could I have known that in the end I must kill him? I became the Great Khan of the world, yet he died by my hand. In a few more days, what then? Won’t I go back to the yellow earth just as he did? Who wins, who loses, what difference does it come to in the end?” He patted both their shoulders. “You two must remain good friends. Never fight between yourselves. Guo Jing, my child, refuses to marry Huazheng. So be it! You are Han after all. You cannot become a Mongol. That is beyond anyone’s power to change. I have thought this through of late. We may be Mongol and Han, but to the day we die we must stay friends, like one family. Death ended it for Jamukha anda,¹ but whenever I think of our sworn brotherhood, I often lie awake the whole night long.”

Tolui and Guo Jing remembered how they had nearly fought to the death beneath the walls of Qingzhou, and both felt a private shame.

After standing so long, Genghis Khan felt weak all over. He was about to go back into the tent when a small party came galloping towards them. The rider at the head wore a white robe and a golden sash, dressed in the official colours of the Jin Empire.

At the sight of his enemy, Genghis Khan’s spirit revived.

The man dismounted at a distance and hurried over, prostrating himself from afar, not daring to approach. A guard announced, “An envoy from the Jin Empire seeks an audience with the Great Khan.”

Genghis Khan said angrily, “The Jin Empire refuses to submit. What business has their envoy with me?”

The envoy, face pressed to the earth, spoke, “Our humble state knows it has offended the Great Khan’s celestial might. Our crime deserves ten thousand deaths. We offer a thousand ancestral pearls to beg the Great Khan’s mercy and pardon. These thousand pearls are our state’s treasured heirloom. We implore the Great Khan to accept them.”

The envoy finished his report, untied a bundle from his back, and produced a jade tray. From a brocade pouch he poured out countless pearls, then knelt and held up the tray with both hands.

Genghis Khan cast a sidelong glance. Upon the jade tray lay a thousand pearls, each the size of a little finger, circling and spinning about a great mother-pearl. A single one of these would have been a rare treasure, but a thousand together surpassed all reckoning. And save for the mother-pearl, which was larger than the rest, they were nearly all of equal size. The pearls shone with a soft, crystalline lustre, their radiance interweaving until the jade tray seemed bathed in a faint rainbow halo.

On any other day Genghis Khan would have been pleased. Now his brows drew together. He said to his guard, “Take it.”

The guard accepted the jade tray. The envoy, overjoyed that the Great Khan had accepted the gift, said, “The Great Khan grants peace. From our sovereign down, all are grateful for his mercy.”

Genghis Khan said furiously, “Who said anything about peace? I’ll send troops against the Jin dogs straight away. Guards, seize him!”

The guards rushed forward and took the envoy.

Genghis Khan sighed, “A thousand pearls cannot buy me one more day of life!” He took the jade tray from the guard and hurled it with all his strength. Tray and pearls flew far into the distance. The jade struck stone and shattered. All who watched were stunned. The Jin envoy’s soul nearly left his body.

The Mongol soldiers later gathered many of the pearls, but countless more were lost in the long grass. Even several hundred years later, herdsmen on the grassland would still pick one up now and then.

All the spirit had gone out of Genghis Khan, and he went back into the Golden Tent. At dusk he had Guo Jing come with him alone, and they rode out to wander the grassland. They galloped more than ten li, when suddenly the cry of eagles rang above their heads. Looking up, they saw the pair of white eagles circling and soaring in the sky.

Genghis Khan took down his painted iron-cored bow, fitted a long arrow and loosed it at the female eagle.

Guo Jing cried out in alarm, “Great Khan, don’t shoot!”

Though Genghis Khan was old and frail, his hand was still swift. By the time Guo Jing’s cry reached him, the arrow had already flown.

Guo Jing’s heart sank. He knew well that Genghis Khan’s strength was beyond ordinary men, that his arrows never missed. This shot must surely kill the eagle he loved. But the female eagle turned her body, swept her left wing wide, and struck the long arrow from the air. Genghis Khan’s strength had failed him. The arrow lacked its old force.

The male eagle, enraged, gave a great cry and swooped down at Genghis Khan’s head.

Guo Jing shouted, “Wretched bird, do you want to die?” and lashed his whip at the male eagle.

Seeing its master strike, the eagle beat its wings and soared high, crying sharply several times. Then the pair flew far away together.

Genghis Khan looked bleak. He threw his bow and arrows to the ground. “In all these decades, today is the first time I have shot at an eagle and missed. It seems my end truly is near.”

Guo Jing would have comforted him, but found no words.

Suddenly Genghis Khan clapped his heels to his horse and galloped north at full speed.

Guo Jing, fearing for his safety, spurred after him. The little red horse ran like the wind and overtook Genghis Khan in an instant.

Genghis Khan reined in and looked about him. “Jing-er,” he said suddenly, “the great empire I have built has no equal in any age. From the centre of my realm to the farthest borders in every direction, a year’s ride on horseback. Tell me, among the heroes of past and present, who matches me?”

Guo Jing was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Great Khan, no one since ancient times has matched the glory of your conquests. But while the Great Khan alone has won such renown, who knows how many white bones have piled up under heaven, how many tears orphans and widows have shed?”

Genghis Khan’s eyebrows bristled. He lifted his whip as if to strike Guo Jing’s head. But Guo Jing gazed at him without fear. The whip hung in the air and did not fall.

“What did you say?” he roared.

Guo Jing thought, From now on, I may never see the Great Khan again. Even if my words offend him, I must speak what is in my heart. He raised his head and said, “Great Khan, you raised me, you taught me, you drove my mother to her death. Those things need not be spoken of again. You always treated me as kin. You loved me, you advanced me. I too treated you as kin. I respected you, I loved you. I ask only this: when a man dies and is buried in the earth, how much land does he occupy?”

Genghis Khan was taken aback. He traced a circle with his whip. “No more than this much.”

Guo Jing said, “Exactly. Then what is the use, in the end, of killing so many people, shedding so much blood and seizing so many lands?”

Genghis Khan was silent.

Guo Jing continued, “A hero whom the world honours and whom posterity admires must be one who brought benefit to the people, who cared for them. In my view, one who has killed many is not necessarily a hero.”

Genghis Khan said, “Then in all my life have I done no good thing?”

Guo Jing said, “Good things, certainly, and great ones. You stopped the Mongols killing one another, and life got better for everyone. You destroyed dozens of kingdoms, united hundreds of tribes and commanded a myriad nations. All obey your orders. The people of every land have days of peace. They no longer fight among themselves. In their hearts they are grateful to you. But your conquests in the south and west have piled the dead like mountains. Whether your merit outweighs your crime, that is hard to say.” He was blunt and simple by nature, and said whatever came into his head.

Genghis Khan, who had all his life held himself peerless, found no answer to this rebuke. He looked back over his past, reined in his horse and gazed behind him, and a great emptiness came over him. After a long moment he gave a great retch, and a mouthful of blood spattered on the ground.

Guo Jing was startled. He realised he had spoken too harshly. He reached out to steady the old man. “Great Khan, return and rest. My words were rash. I beg your forgiveness.”

Genghis Khan gave a faint smile. His face had turned the colour of wax. “Not one of those around me is as bold as you, daring to say a few honest words to me.” Then his eyebrows lifted and pride returned to his face, and he said in a ringing voice, “All my life I have ranged across the world at will and destroyed countless kingdoms. By your account I am no hero? Hah, a child’s words!” He lashed his horse hard and galloped back to camp.

That night Genghis Khan died in the Golden Tent. As he passed, his lips murmured, “Hero, hero…” He was thinking, perhaps, of Guo Jing’s words.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong paid their respects to the Great Khan’s body, then took leave of Tolui and set out south that very day.

Along the way they saw bones and skeletons scattered among the tall grass. They were deeply moved, and thought that their own union was a happy one and left them nothing to regret, but the world’s suffering ran deep, and who knew when peace would come? It was just as the lines say,

The fires of war leave embers still, A poor village, a handful of homes. No one vies for the ferry at dawn, The waning moon sets on the cold sand!

(The end. The deeds of Guo Jing, Huang Rong and the rest continue in Return of the Condor Heroes.)

Footnotes

1. 安答 — āndá. The Mongol word for a sworn brother, bound by oath before Heaven. ↩