The History of China - #159 - Mongol 1: The Blood Clot

Episode Date: February 17, 2019

High in the wildlands of the Khentii Mountains, a tribe of hunters and scavengers comes into possession of a young and captured bride. Ripped out of her old life, she and the family her new husband create at the edge of the world will have to find a way to survive. Time Period Covered: ca. 1158~1170 CE Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The cicadas lull you into sleep. Now and then, the land of Chayans changes its garb. As the mirages rise before your eyes, you forget your age. The land of the camel moves forward and backward. By Orgung Unun Over the course of the 12th century, the Zhecheng Jin dynasty that controlled the Yellow River Valley and Manchuria had adopted many of the lifestyle, cultural, political, and military vestiges of the Song Chinese culture that they had effectively

displaced from the north and then sought to emulate. In time, they had increasingly abandoned their northern steppe nomadism in favor of the richer and more luxurious sedentary lifestyle offered by the Chinese populace that they had come to rule over. In so doing, they found that many of the military solutions the Chinese had long employed against these steppe nomads could be adopted by themselves. After all, those raiders that now nipped around the Zhejiang's new empire's edges, trading and raiding as they'd done for millennia prior, could be dealt with in much the same way. Among the cornerstones of Chinese border-controlled defensive strategies, now in the 12th century inherited and put to good use by their Jin successors, was the policy of yi yi zhi yi, meaning use the barbarians to deal with the barbarians.

At its core, this policy had two major thrusts. First was to outsource large portions of border defense to groups of defeated, or at least tamed, barbarian groups, what the Chinese themselves had at times referred to as cooked barbarian tribes. This would form the outer bulwark of physical defense against the unsinicized, or the so-called uncooked, or raw, barbarians that still sought to pillage what and where they may. At the same time, the Jin, much like the Song, Tang, and Han before them, understood that the single greatest threat to their national security from the northern border was if the disparate and ever-fluctuating groups of these nomadic barbarians were to set aside their differences and incessant blood feuds with one another, and form a great steppe confederation aimed at the

heart of Chinese civilization. It was no idle threat, for history is rife with such examples that had time and again laid great Chinese dynastic orders low. The Qin and Han had been forced to contend with the mighty Xiongnu Empire of the 3rd century BC all the way through the 1st century CE. Later on, in the 3rd and 4th centuries, the Xianbei Confederacy had destabilized the tottering Han dynasty enough to tip it into its grave, spiraling China into a near four centuries of disunity and civil war. The great Tang dynasty had been able to reunify China in the early 7th century only with the backing of, and intermarriage with, the Göktürk or Blue Turk Khanates of the steppe, an uncomfortable alliance that took the military genius of Tang Taizong

himself to turn to China's ultimate advantage in the mid-7th century. All of this is to say that the threat from the steppes was very real and very much to be feared. Should the barbarians unite, they could pose a threat to all under heaven. The Jurchen emperors of the Jin dynasty employed numerous Han Chinese officials and ministers to advise them as to how best govern their new realm, and how to best proof against such ever-present threats from within and without. Taking their advice about the dangers of barbarian confederations to heart, the Jin had done everything in their power over the course of the 12th century to ensure that no tribe or clan of the steppe could grow too powerful, nor attract the loyalty of any other group for long. Playing tribe off of tribe and clan off of clan with ever-changing series of alliances and declarations of enmity,

and always counting upon the propensity of those tribes to carry long grudges and enact blood feuds for perceived slights. The Jin Dynasty quickly mastered the art of keeping the peoples of the steppes atomized and forever in conflict with one another. Even those groups that were able to attract some modicum of regional power, for instance the Kipchak or the Karakitan for instance, were only able to do so fleetingly and as nothing more than a pale shadow of the great confederations of ages past. Thus it was that life in the 12th century Mongolia was characterized by its uncertainty, discord, violence, and chaos. The Jin dynasties' stoking of these already endemic fissures of conflict

had inflamed to a murderous intensity the likes of which had rarely been seen across the steppelins. Such is the wonder, then, that out of such a maelstrom of murder, vengeance, theft, and vendetta would arise a figure so singular, visionary, and charismatic that he would prove himself capable of forging the entire region into a unified political and military force the likes of which the world had never seen before, nor has ever seen since. The major ethnicities residing across the region that is today Mongolia were as many varied and intertwined as anyone could possibly care to study. Though bloodlines were one of the major means by which lineage and heritage was traced,

it was by no means the only means. Various other fictive means were likewise employed to affirm family or kinship ties where none might otherwise exist. The bonds of sworn brothers, for instance, or adoption, or the affirmation of maternal as well as paternal ties to a clan, or as the man who would eventually be known as Genghis Khan would himself affirm in his own Yasa Codex of Law that any man who claimed a child of his own could not be questioned about that claim of paternity. All of these helped only to further cloud what is already an impossibly muddy water of ethnicity and lineage in the region of the world that up until the 13th century remained almost wholly illiterate and without records of its own.

The clans of Mongolia, such as they were, were constructed then of at least hypothetically related lineages known as oboch. These general clan structures were further broken down by relational distances as well as class hierarchy. The relational distances were determined within a clan by a lineage division typically known as white bones and black bones. Close lineages of the leadership, with whom no intermarriage was allowed, were known as whitebones, while more distant relations, or sublineages within a clan, with whom intermarriage was acceptable and regularly practiced, were blackbone relations. Still, though usually thought of in terms of lineage groups, such distinctions were often as, as much sociopolitical constructs as anything we'd

recognize as genetic. From Alson, quote, In the steppe, common political interest was typically translated into the idiom of kinship. Thus, the genealogies of the medieval Mongols, and other tribal peoples, were ideological statements designed to enhance political unity, not authentic descriptions of biological relationships. Such an understanding, while largely alien to most contemporary settled societies as well as our own modern understandings, does help to explain how and why steppe confederations could coalesce, mutate, and shatter with such incomprehensible speed

owing to internal and external tensions. In addition to the kinship-bone relationships, there was also a fairly loose class hierarchy in effect across the steppes, though this was of course far less pronounced or enforced than in agrarian societies such as China or the Zhezhenjin. In general, there was a nobility class, a commoner class, and a so-called dependent class, all of which was primarily, although not exclusively, defined through kinship and lineage ties. The so-called nobility held this relatively privileged position both because they were able to advance, and then defend, claims of dissent from their line's progenitor. This distinction, so long as they could maintain it, afforded them the ability to assume leadership roles among their tribe or clan, though even with such a pedigree,

much remained up to the individual himself. Quote, No strict rules of succession or appointment to positions of authority existed, While being properly credentialed with the correct lineage was certainly an asset, it was not a necessity, as today's nobility could and frequently was tomorrow's pariah and vice versa, depending on the whims of the blue sky above and the ever-shifting alliance systems so often puppeteered by the invisible hand of the distant Jin dynasty. It was only when leadership roles advanced beyond the clan level, to that of a full tribe or a tribal confederation even, that a more formal electoral process known as the Heraldhai was invoked. This involved the nobles and worthies of the relevant groups simply arriving

at the appointed time and place to lend their vote and support to the candidate. If a quorum of those invited indeed showed up, then the motion was understood to have carried, and would be expected to be upheld by all, whether or not they had shown their own assent. Below the white-bone nobility, the junior or collateral lines of the lineage formed the greater bulk of the population, that is, the commoner class. In spite of this ostensible difference, apart from slightly better access to pasture land and typically larger herds, the nobility enjoyed few tangible benefits denied to the common black bones of the clan. Indeed, the barrier between the two was quite porous, and a black bone of sufficient personal qualities and charisma

could bridge such a divide with minimal pushback. Undoubtedly, the most overt class distinction in the relatively equitable social order of the steppe peoples was between that of the white and black bones and that of the bo'ol, made up of slaves and bond servants, otherwise known as the dependent class. Members of this substrata could be comprised of individuals or entire lineage groups, and were typically the product of them losing one of the steppe tribes' ever-ongoing internecine conflicts, or having been captured in the course of one. Quote, Bo'ol, whether individuals or part of lineages, were obliged to work for their masters as domestics, herders, or agricultural laborers, and to take up arms on their behalf In spite of this clearly subservient position,

the Boal class was still considered far above the enslaved classes of most settled civilizations, and rather than chattel, quote, were often treated as part of the family and achieved de facto freedom even without formal manumission, end quote. One final group within steppe society bears exploration before moving forward, and that is the nokod, or companions, of the white-boned chieftains. We might consider them in many, although not all, respects, like the medieval European knights or Japanese samurai, in terms of their relationship to their lords. Quote, They formed the retinue of an aspiring chief or khan, providing him with military and political advice, and undertaking in general any commission desired by the lord. End quote. This could include tasks ranging from as minuscule as

tracking down stray members of the Khan's herd, to personal protection, to being sent forth to other groups as political emissaries and ambassadors. In return, in true medieval feudal style, they would receive protection, food, lodging, and provisions. A no-cor companion could come from any of the social strata, from nobility with a taste for adventure or a particularly strong tie to another of their ilk, all the way down to the bo'ol bondmen, who showed particular loyalty and skill in their master's behalf on the battlefield. It is into this complex, swirling, and violent array of forming and fracturing family and clan dynamics, consistently meddled with by the unseen hand of the Sino-Georgian defensive EE-Georgie policies, that we must begin our tale. as the punishment of God to his foes, misrepresented as Prester John to deluded Europeans who momentarily saw him as their own salvation, and to his own people acclaimed

unanimously as Genghis Khan, emperor of all under the blue sky, came into the world in one of the most unlikely ways, in one of the most unlikely places, and to perhaps the most unlikely family that there could have been in the latter 12th century. Let us paint the picture. Mongolia is no flat expanse. In spite of the term steppe implying endless fields of grassland and little else, North Central Asia is a rolling series of hills, bluffs, cliffs, and mountains punctuated by the occasional stream, river, pond, bog, and even glacially formed lake. Yes, there are mountains on all sides of the steppes, but we must remove from our minds the high, sharp, impossibly tall rock spires of the Himalayas or the Rockies. Both of the major mountain ranges that frame Mongolia, the Altai

Range to the west and the Khenti Range of the northeast, are inconceivably old. The Khenti Range is thought in particular to have been formed as a part of the Angaran's shield more than 1.5 billion years ago. The subsequent eons of erosion have smoothed and flattened them in such that they only reach some 9,000 to 10,000 feet above sea level today, and most can be summited without undue difficulty on horseback, depending, of course, on the weather. It is the weather and climate that pose the largest challenge to anyone wishing to survive this gently rolling stepland. From Weatherford, quote, the weather can be fierce and changes abruptly. This is a land of marked extremes, where humans and their animals face constant challenges from the weather. The Mongols say that you can experience all four seasons in a single day in the Khenti. Even in May, a horse may sink into snowbanks so deep that it could barely keep

its head up, end quote. It was among these Khenti mountains that the boy who would one be known as Genghis Khan was born. Hoylun, a young woman, probably no more than 16 years old, of the Olkhonud tribe, had been married in or around the year 1158 to a young and handsome suitor of the Merkid clan, a hunter called Chilidu. Chilidu had gone through the customary steps expected of a suitor to a young woman of means, and had worked for her family for several years

prying to ask for a hoilun's hand in marriage from her father. Having received the family's blessing, the two were wed, and then set off to rejoin Chilidu's own Merkid tribe, as was custom. It was a journey of many weeks, and while the bridegroom rode astride his trusty horse, the young bride was seated inside a small black cart pulled by an ox or camel. As they made their way along the flowing course of the Unun River, the pair were spied by a lone hunter from afar, out hawking for small game. Realizing that

here lay a golden opportunity, such prey as this young bride his falcon could never hope to capture, nor was he of sufficient social standing or means to woo one of the correct way. Instead, this hunter, a man known as Yesige of the Borjigian clan, raced back to his small encampment to inform his two brothers of this shift in his fortunes. He would have a bride, to be sure, and would procure her in the second most common way among the

steppes, kidnapping. From the secret history, quote, was flying hawks on the Onon River when he met Yeke Chiledu of the Myrkids, who was just starting out for home with an Ohunud girl he had married. Craning his neck, he saw a woman of unique color and complexion. He galloped home to his gir and returned, leading his older brother Nekun Taishi and his younger brother Daritai Ochigin. The three Borjigin brothers swept down on the unsuspecting bride and groom, prompting Chilidu to immediately attempt to draw them away from his young wife by galloping his horse around the mountain around which they rode. Even as their pursuers chase

after him, Boilun knew that it was ultimately a futile gesture. The hunters would be back for their prize, her. The only question now remained whether they would kill Chiledu in the process, or let him go. When Chiledu doubled back across the crest of the mountain to his cart and his waiting bride, Lady Huilun, who was waiting in the cart, said, Did you see the look on those men's faces?

They wish to kill you. As long as you remain alive, there will be girls on the front seats of carts and women in black covered wooden carts. If you live, you will perhaps find a girl or a woman for yourself. If she has another name, you can call her Hoi Lun. Save yourself. She implored her newlywed husband to understand this simple, brutal truth of the steps, commanding him to flee quickly, and removing and thrusting her blouse at him, a parting gift of love, so that you may have the smell of me as you go. Chilidu would see the wisdom of his teenage bride's words,

and fled over the horizon and out of Hoyon's sight forever. The three hunters pursued the retreating Chilidu across seven hills, before at last giving up the chase and circling back to the still-waiting cart and their prize within. Now alone with her captors, Hoiloon's Stoic reserve finally gave way to despair, and she cried out her anguished grief such that, quote, the Onan River churned and the forest echoed to the sound. Yet the brothers showed her at least a little pity, telling her that the man that they had pursued had eluded them. They said,

The one you embrace has crossed many bridges. The one you cry for has crossed much water. However much you cry, from such a distance he will not see you. However much you search for him, you will not find his road. Be still. End quote. Her old life was over, and there were not tears enough to ever bring it back. And with that, Yesugei brought Lady Hoilun into his gur.

This is how Yesugei took Lady Hoilun. It is notable that Hoilun is described frequently as willing to marry Yesugei, although it's highly dubious just how willing she could possibly have been. Her choice, after all, was between becoming his lawful wife with rights, privileges, and the ability to produce lawful heirs, or becoming little more than a chattel slave to be used and ultimately discarded at will. Not much of a choice at all. It was not just her husband that would change markedly for Huilun that day. Her entire lifestyle was about to undergo a major upheaval, and not for the better. Huilun had grown up with her Olkhunud tribe among the vast grasslands of central Mongolia, quote, where one could see over vast expanses in any direction,

and where great herds of horses, cows, sheep, and goats grazed and grew fat during the summer. Her diet, therefore, had consisted of rich meats and dairy products, surely a lifestyle she had expected to maintain among the Merkids with her choice of husband. Her new husband's tribe, however, was not of the plains, but rather the shadowy forests and mountain crags of the Khenti in the north, the very edge of the world she knew and understood, where the steppes met the beginnings of the vast, frigid Siberian taiga. The Borjigins, amongst which she was now compelled to live as the wife of Yes vast, frigid Siberian taiga. The Borjigins, amongst which she was now compelled to live

as the wife of Yesige, was a small tribe that could only maintain small herds and subsisted largely off of what they could hunt and catch with their hawks and bows. The leaner, tougher game meat of marmots, rats, birds, fish, and the occasional bounty of deer or an antelope. Yesugei himself could trace his lineage back to nobility, as the third son of Bartanba Atar, who was the second son of Habul Khan.

Though the Borjigin tribe had had a brief moment in the sun under the reign of Habul, they had been forced from prominence by Habul Khan's beard-tweaking of the Jin Emperor a generation prior, and the subsequent Jin-Tatar campaign against the then-burgeoning Mongol Confederation. By the 1160s, the Borjigins of Yesge were considered outcasts, and as little more than the scavengers of the steppes, competing with the foxes and wolves for small prey, and stealing from their neighbors to the south what little they could, be it food, horses, cattle, or women. In time, Huilun would become used to this new lifestyle. Her husband was only around the Garayun, meaning literally

circle, but in fact describing the ring of feltense that both the Borjigin and their small number of retainer tribes encamped within for mutual protection. Yesge was infrequently around because he was often on campaign with his uncle Khutulakan on raids and attacks against the Tatars and Jinn for their ruthless execution by crucifixion of Ambakhai several years before. From his secret history, execution by crucifixion of Ambakhai several years before. From his secret history, quote, All the Mongols and the Taishi youths gathered together in the Khor Khor forest of the Unun and made Khotala their khain. The Mongols celebrated by dancing and feasting. After becoming khaian, Khotala rode out with Haraan Taishi against the Tatars.

Thirteen times they joined battle against the Tatars, but failed to avenge Ambihai Hayan. It was in the course of one of these raids that Yesuke did battle with and either captured or killed outright a Tatar chieftain named Tamajin Uge, or Tamajin the Elder. Upon his return to the camp, and his waiting wife, Yesuke was no doubt delighted to discover that Hoilun had become pregnant. Still, whether or not Yesuke's frequent long absences brought any relief to the young wife or simply furthered her loneliness, life must have been difficult among this band of strangers who viewed her as little above the other animals they'd captured during their periodic raids though yes again was of course who loons only husband she was not his only wife he already had another bride so Jigga and a child with her beside the boy Victor it seems likely that the two women may have maintained a cordial but otherwise distant and cold relationship, no doubt in part because Jeske had chosen the more beautiful

and highborn Heulun as his chief wife, and thus the only one capable of bearing his heirs, and thereby demoting Sojigu to secondary status. Still, in such a tiny and interdependent community, even if the status of Yesuke's chief wife might have afforded a girl of her own, there was otherwise little else that Hoilund could have done to avoid close daily interaction with those among whom she now lived. It remains uncertain precisely which year this pregnancy occurred, though that certainly has not prevented many historians and scholars from confidently putting forth their own theories. The Persian historian Rashid al-Din, for instance, wrote in his 14th century Compendium of Chronicles that the child was born as early as 1155. This is likely a clever dig by the Iranian patriot and secret critic of his Ilkhanate Mongol overlords,

since as Ergung Unun points out, 1155 was the Chinese year of the pig. Rashid al-Din, of Jewish origin and a later convert to Islam, may have been very subtly calling the progenitor of the empire that had torn his world apart the animal most disliked by both his own religion as well as the Mongols themselves. Other historians take a significantly later date of birth. Thomas Alson, based on the previous writings of Peleus, writes that, quote, it is virtually certain that he, Tamajin, came into the world in the year 1167, end quote. Still, the most common dating is based on the traditional Chinese records, as ascribed to by contemporary Mongolian historians such as Argung Onun, who wrote, quote,

Temujin was born upon the 16th day of the fourth lunar year of the year 1162, end quote, which was, as it happens, the year of the water horse. Ultimately, the precise year of the boy's birth remains as cloudy and obscure as much of the rest of his early life. As the Mongols themselves had no calendar system of their own, dates such as these were simply not important to keep track of, nor was there any ready method of doing so. Whatever the specific date, when Huilun's first child was at last delivered into the world, the stories repeatedly tell of a strange and pretentious event that happened during and immediately after the labor. As the infant

squawked out his first cries, the teenage mother noticed among the viscera and afterbirth that her new son clutched something tightly in his right hand. In spite of her exhaustion, nervous curiosity compelled her to gently pry back the baby boy's fingers, revealing what he'd brought with him from within her womb into the harsh world now surrounding him. There, to her undoubted shock and perhaps disgust, she found it. A blackened clot of blood the size of a knuckle-bone dye. From Weatherford, quote, What could an inexperienced, illiterate, and terribly lonely young girl make of this strange sign in her son's hand? More than eight centuries later,

we still struggle to answer the same questions she had about her son. Did the blood clot represent a prophecy or a curse? Did it foretell good fortune or evil? Should she be proud or alarmed, hopeful or fearful? Whatever she may have thought about the strange sign of his birth, it's evident that the boy's father already had the name he wished to bestow upon his second son and first by Hoilung. As his most recent moment of glory of his life had been to defeat the Tatar Khan, Tamajin Uge, Yesge wished to honor his foe's memory and no doubt bestow some measure of that honor onto his own newborn son by naming the boy after the Khan. As with many pre-modern societies, the steppe peoples typically

received but a single name in life, and its selection was therefore rife with meaning and symbolism. Yet even here, there are several possible interpretations of its root and meaning. Weatherford established the root of Temujin, as well as that of his youngest brother Temug, and his youngest sister Temulun, as being Tamul, meaning, quote, to rush headlong, to be inspired, to have a creative thought, and even to take a flight of fancy. Or as one particular Mongolian explained to him, quote, the look in the eye of a horse that is racing where it wants to go no matter what the rider wants, end quote.

These are certainly poetic possibilities, though they might seem to fit the ultimate nature of the tale of a whole of this individual a bit too closely to be given unquestioning credence. Onun provides a somewhat more grounded explanation of the name, and one that is typically more widely recognized, as a name deriving from the word timur, meaning iron, and one that is typically more widely recognized as a name deriving from the word timur, meaning iron, and jin, a suffix denoting agency. This does seem to fit better with the typical naming schema of medieval Mongolia. His elder half-brother, for instance, bore the name

vehter, meaning armor, in Orkhon Turkic. By this interpretation, then, the young Temujin's name, and that of its previous owner, became something more down-to-earth than the look in a horse's eye. Instead, it means the worker of iron, or a blacksmith, or, if you wish, Iron Man. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the

turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters in history, and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political intrigue, and massive social and economic change. But it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. Virtually nothing is written in The Secret History about Temujin's early life until the age of eight, when his father, Yesugei, decided that it was time to find the boy a bride-to-be.

Father and son would set out together, but otherwise alone. The boy certainly rode his own horse, as Mongol children, boys and girls alike, were trained in the saddle since before they could walk, and could typically command a steed without issue by the age of three or four. They would be traveling to the Olkunut people, among which was Hoylun's lost long Ongerod clan, and Temujin would meet his mother's people for the first time. On the way there, however, they would meet a distinguished elder of the Ongerods, a man referred to by the title Deisichen, meaning wise uncle.

From the Secret History again, quote, Deisichen said, Cousin Yesugei, who will you see? Yesugei Baazor replied, I am going to the Olkanut people with my son to see his mother's brother for a wife. Deisichen said, This boy of yours has fire in his eyes and light in his face. Cousin Yesugei, last night I had a dream. A white girl falcon, holding both the sun and the moon,

flew down and perched in my hand. I have not talked to the people about my dream. When they gazed in the past at the sun and the moon, they were merely seen. Now this girl falcon lights them about my dream. When they gazed in the past at the sun and the moon, they were merely seen. Now this girthal can light them in my hand. The white one descends onto my hand. What good thing did this portend, cousin Yesugei? My dream foreshadowed your arrival, together with your son. I dreamt a good dream that portended your arrival among the Kiat people. He continued, Since days of old we Ongerod people, with the color of our sisters' children, the complexion of our daughters, have never disputed with other nations over land and people.

We make our fair-faced daughters sit in the two-wheeled carts, harnessed to a black camel, for you who become Kions, and send them off at a trot. On the Khatun throne we make them sit together with you, End quote. Dejian led Yesugei to his gur and showed him his daughter, a girl approximately a year Temujin's senior, with light in her face and fire in her eyes. Her name was Bort. After thinking on the proposition overnight,

Yesugei asked that Temujin and Bort be betrothed. Daesujin replied, If after numerous requests I give her, I will be respected. If after only a few requests, I will be held cheap. It is not the fate of a girl to grow old in the doorway behind which she was born. I will give you my daughter. Leave your son here as my son-in-law when you go." As had been the case with his mother, Huilun, and her brief first husband, Chiladu. Step custom was to apprentice

the betrothed boy to his eventual father-in-law for a period of two to three years of bride service, during which he would serve as a helping hand for the family, doing whatever might be required of him. Just as much as this was a form of payment for the eventual marriage, this period also served as a means of the betrothed boy and girl to get to know each other, decide if they were indeed a match, and slowly grow more intimate, all the while under the protective eye of the daughter's family. Yeziga left behind his spare horse as a gift for the family that had accepted his son into their ger, and made his way back towards their own encampment at Deiluun Bold-Boldog. Along the way, however, he would make a fateful decision. Happening on an encampment of Tatars celebrating and feasting,

hungry and thirsty himself, Yesge dismounted and joined them. Yet, being well aware that his own previous exploits against the Tatars necessitated him concealing his true identity, he was, after all, the man who had killed the Khan, Tamajin Uge. He attempted to trick the band of Tatars with a false identity. Unfortunately for him, the ruse was unsuccessful, as someone had recognized his face from eight years prior. Though he was invited to join the revelry, word was spread among the band of Tatars that the murderer of Tamajin Uke was among them,

and that the time for their revenge had at last presented itself. Poison was secreted into Yesugei's food and drink, resulting in him falling suddenly and dreadfully ill. Excusing himself from the Tatars who continued their revelry and doubtless wished him all the best, he mounted his horse in agony and made the three-day journey back to his home as quickly as his mount could carry him. Immediately upon arriving and sensing the treachery that had befallen him, Yesuge sent a rider back to the camp of Daesachin to recall his son to what would be his father's deathbed. The rider sent, a young man named Monglik, attempted to soften the news by simply saying that Temujin's father deeply missed his son and wished to see him.

Daesu-jin allowed his future son-in-law his leave, provided that he would return quickly to resume his bride service. It would prove to be a promise that young Temujin would be unable to keep. When he arrived back at his father's gur after a days-long journey, he found that he had arrived too late. Yesugei lay dead from the Tatar poison. Already a grievous loss, fortune would prove far more better for the family that Yesugei had left behind. The steppe is a harsh place,

and its northern edges among the Henti range all the more so. Thus, so too are the decisions that people who wish to survive there must be. Yesuge had left behind him two wives and seven children, all yet under the age of ten. Though it was common practice for widowed women to be remarried to younger men within their deceased husband's family, as it, quote, gave the younger man the opportunity to have an experienced wife without having to pay an elaborate set of gifts to her family or to put in years of hard bride service, end quote. A woman with five children, for all but the wealthiest and most powerful men, was more than they could effectively support. Even more, as a captive bride far from her homeland and people, Hoelun could not even

offer a prospective husband material wealth nor meaningful familial connections. She was, in effect, out of options. By the following spring, therefore, the decision had been reached by the ruling Taichi-yud clan that Hoelun, Yesuge's other widow, Sochigu, and their seven children were too many useless mouths to feed, and were placed outside of their family ties of protection or responsibility. This was a message passed to the family in a traditional way the Mongols symbolized their relationship ties. The most basic and necessary of items, food. Again, from the secret history, quote, That spring, the two ladies of Amagai Kayan, Orbe and Sogitai, visited the gravesite of the ancestors. Lady Hoilun arrived late, for they had failed to wait for her.

To Orbe and Sogitai, Lady Hoilun said, Is it because my husband is dead and my children are not yet grown up that you think to keep me from my share? Before my very eyes you eat without inviting me to join you, without waking me you intend to leave. On hearing these words, the ladies Orbe and Sogithai said, Do you have some special right to eat when we summon you? You have the right to eat when we summon you? You have the right to eat when you come by chance on food. Do you have the right to eat

when we invite you? You have the right to eat when you arrive on time. It is because you thought of yourself, and Mikai Kahan, this dead, that even you, Hoilun, speak against us in this way. End quote.

The leadership of the Taichu clan had made themselves clear. Hoilun and her family were on their own, a sentence of exile that was virtually synonymous with death. The man secretly planned to move down the course of the Onon River to their summer ground the following day, again without informing the widows of Yesugei. Early the following morning, the clans had taken down their Gur tents and prepared to move out, leaving the two young women and their seven children behind.

At this, a single voice, an old man from a low-ranking family, cried out his disapproval of such a cruel action. At this, one of the deserting clansmen snarled back, The deep water has dried up, and the Shining Stone has worn away. Who are you to think that you may reprove us? In other words, everything comes to an end. And wheeling his horse around, the clansman rode up behind the old man and speared him through the back.

Wounded and dying, the man stumbled back into his tent, and young Tamajin, apparently much affected by this event, rushed to help him. But seeing that he was beyond all help, could do nothing but cry in anger and grief. As for Hoilun, she was not yet ready to abandon all hope. Rushing forward, she took up her husband's horsehair spirit banner, the very embodiment of Yesuke's soul, mounted her horse, and rode in a circle around the Taiichi-yud group, abandoning them. This action, and likely fear of invoking the spiritual wrath of Yesuke

should they abandon his family in his very presence, managed to convince almost half of the departing families to return to the campsite. Yet their shame-induced return was only temporary. That very night, in ones and pairs, they snuck off once again into the darkness to catch up with the Taichi-yuts who had pressed ahead, often stealing the animals belonging to the wives and children of Yesugei as they departed, perhaps telling themselves that it was better to take the animals with them than to leave them to starve with a family that they already viewed as dead. We will pick up the narrative

next time with Hoelun's struggle to ensure that her family does not meet the fate that her clan has prescribed to her. Her eldest son, Temujin, will grow strong and hard through the struggles that he endures through his childhood. And in time, he will indeed live up to his name as a man of iron. Thanks for listening. To be continued... and Cleopatra's descendants over ten generations, or take a deep dive into the Iron Age or the Hellenistic era, then check out the Ancient World Podcast. Available on all podcasting platforms, or go to ancientworldpodcast.com. That's the Ancient World Podcast.