Boris Zubry

THE JEWISH NATION OF MONGOLS

DEDICATION:

To people that are seeking knowledge,

Adventure, fantasy, and smiles,

That would accept the quizzing challenge;

That’s out there lies behind.

To people close to me that daily,

In labors to digest the tells,

The wife, the dog, and even neighbors

That maybe know — I mean well.

Aaron Cohen

Galloping mad horses, so many exhausted people, the heavy razor-sharp dust, the bone penetrating heat, the humid, and the terrifying earsplitting screams. The screams and cries are everywhere coming from all directions. Screams of the wounded and dying horses. Cries of the people that may still be alive. Some are still fighting the shadows. Is that a shadow of the foe of the death? Death… Tears of blood. The last breath. The last sigh. What could be more frightening than people screaming in frustration, exhaustion, pain, submitting to fate? Dying people. The screaming horses… Dying horses. The silent scream in the wild eyes that filled with terror of animals in pain. Do they feel pain as we do? More? Less? The loud cry of dying animals again and again, and again. They are all around, searching for the way out. They are looking for survival, but only finding the slow torturous death. That’s the most terrifying scream of them all. The last scream. It is full of pain, fear, fatality, and finality. Yes, the finality. Was there anything else left? Was there tomorrow or the next week?

There is a screaming horse on fire. It’s running wild — to where? To its destiny? How far is it? In what direction? But, it’s dead already and does not know it yet. What was the destiny of the dead? What could be the goal, the aim, the result? The quicker death… Less agony… What could be more agonizing, terrifying, painful than burning alive? Burning alive eternally… There was no escape, no way out. Where to turn? No, there was no tomorrow or even today. Was it in the past already or just never existed? Did anyone know the answer? Was he still alive? Gone… There was no future, but the terrifying today and maybe a questionable past. Dead had no future, but did they have the past? Could they hold to anything tangible? Where was the escape, the alternative route, the survival? More of the galloping horses, more of the heavy all-penetrating dust, more of the terrifying screams (the human and the horses, the screaming wind), and the uncontrollable exhaustion making the heat more, and more unbearable. Heat… Death… Pain… Surrender… Destiny. The end. The nerve-stinging screeching sounds of metal over metal.

Sometimes you could hear the ringing of bells, but it was only the hardened steel breaking bones and the steel. Horses have lost their minds from the heat, exhaustion, dust, and the sickeningly dry, sweet coppery scent of the human and animal blood. Blood was flowing freely today and here. It has no value today, but it was so precious yesterday. War and blood were free. Blood of so many people comes together, mixing up and creating the stream of eternity where your origin or the believes do not matter, and there are no disagreements with anyone or anything anymore. Finally, everyone is equal and happy in one unified happiness of the dead. Is that what you wanted? Is that why you came here and brought all these weapons? Was that your aim and the accomplishment? Are you done?

That’s the time and the place for the nightmarish demons to collect their dues. They patiently waited for a while, and now, it was time. Now, they collect it in full. People were so fatigued in the struggle to kill and not to be killed. I do not want to die, not now, not today. I want to live another day, another life. I want to live my life. Live, and let die. What can I do not to die? Be better, be smarter, be faster wielding your weapon. Kill, kill, kill. How good is your weapon? Can you find a better one? There, he is not dead yet, but his sword… Kill, and take the sword or a shield or an ax. Is it better than yours? Let’s see. Kill to stay alive. Kill… That’s the only way to survive a battle, one more battle, one more day. Maybe this one is the last one. Perhaps you can pull it though. How lucky are you? The throbbing pain, the horror, blood, and the death reign this field of the surreal reality. One more battle. That was only one battle out of so many. The broken bodies were planted everywhere you looked, right where they felled. They did not go anywhere, not anymore. Where were they going to be buried? All of them together, in one colossal grave? The nameless bodies… The mindless minds… Individually, in their own graves? Possibly, but there were more dead than alive. Who could bury them that way? They died together so, why not to lay together for eternity. They were one of the same now. They were brothers now. They were dead brothers now. So many nameless members of the brotherhood of death. No, do not look. It may burn your eyes and empty your soul, but you looked, and you saw the friends, and the foes alike. They would not get up, they could not get up. They had no life left. No will, no power, no drive… Many were still too young. People, horses, death… Horses keep running even without mounts. The mounts have fallen failing to get up. They did not care any longer, but horses were still searching for an escape. Horses usually so couscous and careful did not stop, circling someone or something in the middle of this full of the fear valley. The valley of the sorrowfulness… There in the middle of the demise, were people, soldiers, fighters, dead, and still alive, more dead than alive. They were the defenders of the valley that belonged to them. It belonged to them the day before, just a few hours ago. The shields, swords, arrows, spears, knives, nails and teeth, and more pain, blood, and broken bodies. People and horses… Horses. The screams of pain and the sighs of dying. Whose blood was there? Who was dying? This shining, blinding, murdering sun. Dust… Hot wind… Why of all days… Why today? Death was enveloping it all; it was everywhere reigning the day. The day of death. That day of death. Was it something to celebrate? Was that the smell of death or of the living creatures dealing that death? What smell was worse? Even the smell was petrifying, but they wanted to live. War, rape, pillage, plunder, and the fire. Death to all living and slavery to all survived. Was slavery any better? Was slavery considered living? Quick death could be a valuable reward, but you did not know that and resisted. You should’ve listened, but you wanted to live and be free. Yet, you hit the dead end. Death was the dead end, the deadliest one. Was there a way out? Was there a choice?

That was a dream that Aaron Cohen had almost every week now, coming on any day with no apparent reason or a pattern. He had it forever, for as long as he could remember, but never that often. What was it? It could not be the “genetic memory” so much talked about lately. What was genetic memory anyway, and where it was mentioned in the Torah, Talmud or any other righteous book? He was twenty-eight years old religious Lubavitch Jew with five children, and these violent dreams were not appropriate for him. God forbid… Not for him, not for any other Jew. No one should have dreams like that. Never. Nothing good could come from that. Nothing good was in it either. What could be good in such violence? He never read this type of books and did not even have the TV, less watched it. It was not for the pious; it was not for the righteous. It was not for the Jews. All Rabbis said so. And, he was pious all the way through, to the smallest bone of his body. Torah was the light of his life. Torah was life. He never saw a movie like that dream, so violent. Come to think, he never saw a movie period. What for? Movies were not kosher, not for the righteous mind. Violence was not in his bones. Jews, and, especially, the religious ones, were not violent. The unprovoked violence and of those proportions were not the Jewish trade. That was for barbarians. Jews did not run around on horses, like crazies, killing everything in sight. Never ever. Well, maybe thousands of years ago… Yet, that was in self-defense, and he was not around yet. It was back then. That was needed for the nation to survive. Not now. Well, maybe in Israel… That’s in self-defense as well. That was still needed for the nation to survive. Every nation has the right to defend itself, to survive. They did it out of necessity; there was no pleasure in it. All Jews were good Jews, only some were somewhat better. The religious ones… Even the sports were not promoted in the community. Have you ever seen a Hasidic Jew wearing the Yarmulke (a skullcap worn all the time by Orthodox Jews or during prayer by other Jewish men), and the Tzitzit (a wool vest-like piece of clothing with fringes at its four corners) fighting in a ring as a boxer? Yeah… Playing football? Soccer? Exactly. Ah…, you see now? Gornisht (nothing). This is what I am talking about. None of it was kosher by any standard, and Aaron was a good Jew with only peace on his mind and not the blood of war. And, the killings with a sword and a spear, and a knife. Cutting the throats of the dying people. The blood, and the mutilated bodies as far as you can see. The dead and the crazed horses. The dead and the crazed people. He never discussed it with the Rabbi, but this was obvious to anyone. What was there to discuss? The violent dreams and the Hasidic Jews did not go together. Never. How could they? What is it — the Russians, the Cossacks? The Germans? God forbid… No, it was not the Hasidic thing to do. Why would it be? Where would it come from? It was the meshugass (madness, insanity, craze). It sounded like a contradiction of terms. It was impossible. Me ken brechen! (you can vomit from this!). Many probably would if they saw it. Aaron worried, but there was no one to discuss it with. His wife, Leah, will start crying. That’s what she always did when she was scared and confused. His mother, Miriam, will start cursing everything and everyone. That’s what she always had done when she was scared and confused. No one would be safe. His father, Yossel, oh, forget about him. Aaron would not even go to him. That would be even more meshuga (crazy) than the dreams. Why him, why the dreams? He should dream of better things, God, and the family. Dream of the kids, the next holiday, and the great feast, Leah was going to make. He liked that. She was a good cook — the fusion of all cuisines, but kosher. Still, something had to be done. Maybe there was a pill or something he could take, and the dream would go away. It started to affect his work, and, even when he prayed, he would drift into a dream-like state where the strangely dressed people were killing each other. In the most horrifying way… And, when he was praying… That was the worst of it. Was God offended by that? Of course, he was. Who would not? God would not miss that, not their god. God saw everything and knew everything. He was not God for nothing. He was the only God. Baruch Asheim! Screams, horses, death, and the smell of blood were following Aaron just about everywhere. He could smell it at home, at work, in the shops, on the street, and even in the synagogue. Well, the butcher shops he could understand, but the bookstore selling the religious books was not the right place for that smell. That smell was becoming a permanent part of his life now. That smell of blood, of death, of the struggle, and the fright, was appalling. But it was always there. Oh, God, was not it enough? Please, give me a break. God… He worked as a bookkeeper for ten hours a day just to support the family, and he prayed and studies the Torah all the time. There was no time left for foolishness, for bad dreams, and going crazy. Was he going crazy? He had to feed the family. That was the most important obligation of a Jewish man. God, and the family. Five children were not a joke, not by any measure. He was blessed, but was not this a little too much, not that he was complaining. Sometimes you are blessed and sometimes not, but sometimes you are blessed too much. He would talk to the Rabbi. Rabbi Shlamowitz was a brilliant man, and he would help if he could. He may know what to do. He hears things and knows his way around of problems. He could know a prayer for something like that or a good doctor that has a pill. There should be something somewhere. He was not a Rabbi for nothing, and that’s for sure.

Aaron’s great grandparents, Mirke and Itzik Cohen, became the members of the HASIDIC movement years ago, in the late 1800s. It happened when they were still living in Belorussia that, at the time, was a part of the Russian Tsarist Pale of Settlement (the Russian Jews were forced to live there by the Royal Decree, and the exemptions were rare). In that Shtetl, everyone was somewhat related and a Hasid yet, some were more, and some were less. So, Aaron’s beliefs were inherited from the great grandparents and came together with the Jewish culture, customs, Yiddish language, and the looks. Aaron was a smallish man of 5’3 and about 100 lb., with slightly bolding, but wildly curling reddish hair, long bonny nose, dark brown eyes, and thick glasses. And, he was blessed with the long wavy payos (sidelocks) growing down almost to the shoulders. That meant something to the Hasidic Jews. That added something to the man, even a slightly built one. He was righteous. Dressed in the full Hasidic uniform of a black kaftan — a long flowing black frock coat, and a fur hat, he presented a small, but, nevertheless, an exclusive prize of the Jewish nation. Everyone knew that he belonged, and he knew it better than anyone else. He was one of the chosen ones. What made him so different from the other men? Whatever made him so different from the other men readied him as an exclusive prize. Even such a small man, in the crowd, he stood out, and that’s where his place was. He was somewhat elevated even when he was among the elevated men. There definitely was something different about him. He was noticed. Aaron was one of the chosen people, he cherished it, and was so proud of it. How often do you get to be chosen? It could happen only once in a lifetime, and not with everyone. Yet, Jews, for better or worse, were chosen by God, and God had his reasons.

The Cohen family immigrated to America in 1905, settling down in the Bronx of New York City first and moving to the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn later. This was the perfect place for the Hasidic Jews, and many called it the shtetl of Williamsburg. Where they right? Maybe, and some say yes. That was a funny name for such a prominent place and in America. To many, it was the Garden of Eden or the closest to that one could find in such short order. There, in this new shtetl, nearly everyone was a Hasid in one way or another, and many even were relatives. After all, most of these people there came from Eastern Europe directly or through Western Europe. That took somewhat longer, but the result was the same. What could you do, so you did what you could. Still, you arrived at the right place and could enjoy what was there, in America. Even if you had so little that it was mostly nothing or even less, one could appreciate that without being discriminated and pushed around. No one threatened your existence, and your children could run around free. Freedom had a different meaning. It actually existed. It resided here, in America. Yet, you needed to provide, and that could be a challenge, but you could find the way. People around mostly were friendly and, even when not, they did not turn away when you asked for help.

One could live there trying his best, not being called a dirty Jew whenever he met a gentile. Well, it was not every time you met a gentile, but that was an exemption, a rare thing. In short, that was almost the shtetl of your dreams. Just replace the small apartment on a dirty street with a little house on a dirty street, but with somewhat more air and add a cow or two, and a goat with a few chickens, and you are there. That’s the shtetel of your dreams, and no Goyem (non-Jews), please. That’s as close to Paradise as you can get so far from home. Still, this was your home, even if it was the way away from your home. There, one could adapt and prosper; just try a little harder.

Many, most of the Hasidim from Eastern Europe met in America and settled down in Williamsburg, Brooklyn of New York. Well, they saw right away that Williamsburg was not exactly Eden or even close. It even was not in the same hemisphere as Eden. So, what? It was by the river, almost like back home. It was the Hasidic paradise with not too many Goyem (non-Jews) to call you a Zhid (Polish for a Jew used in Eastern Europe as an insult), or the Russian Tsar to order them around. You were free to live as you wanted, well, almost as you wanted, and the abuse and the pogroms were not in the cards or even possible. And, that was: a shtik naches (a great joy) already, just by itself. What else would you like, would you want, would you need, from your life? A little food (just enough) on the table. Some clothes (nothing fancy) on your back. A place (just a roof and the walls) to call home. A happy wife (one is more than enough), and the kids (as many as you can have). Was that too much to ask? When you prayed, you wished it to everyone so, why not a little bit for you. That would be just right. Now they, the Hasidic Jews, could live almost as they wanted (within the boundaries of one neighborhood in America), and that was not just the Mein Bubbe’s Tahm (my grandmother’s chopped herring). It was the Zol zion mit Mazel (a load of good luck)! That felt so good when early in the morning, you had a breakfast of a freshly baked bagel and a cup of strong tea and went to a job that could last for a while. It paid well, and you were so proud to have a job. You were a working man supporting the family. That meant so much. Or, when you opened the doors of the little shop on the corner where you could do your best serving the neighbors and providing for the family. Did it matter what you served in the shop: food, goods, tailoring, locks, or carpeting? It was small and did not make a lot of money, but it was yours and made almost enough. Yes, it could be more, but you survived, and your children did not go hungry. May your children bring you much naches (joy), and they often did. Oh, if only they knew what they wanted, but who complains. Wanting was great. Wishing was super great. Getting it was another story. Still, one should keep trying. After all, in America, one was as close to paradise as one could.

Selling the Girl Scout cookies was illegal in Williamsburg. So was to be a Girl or a Boy Scout. The sport was not really promoted in the religious schools, and the kids from the righteous families did not play basketball in a little park there. Did you know that? I did not. Cookies? Girl Scouts? Boy Scouts? Basketball? Baseball? What a shock for the system. That was a system by itself. What a shock for the Girl Scout cookies, and that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Good advice: keep your cookies well protected when you enter the Williamsburg area of New York. It could be important one day, I mean the cookies well intact. Yet, be gentle with the locals. They are not like you. They had been chosen within the chosen, and they may see the world in a somewhat different dimension from you. It is entirely possible.

Williamsburg is one of the most desirable areas to live in the present Brooklyn and New York City in general. What a location and so close to Manhattan. Manhattan is a short walk away, just over the bridge, on the other side of the river. But, you better be a Hasidic Jew. If you are, you will fit in better, and the surrounding may be suitable for your lifestyle, taste, customs, and the general constitution. It takes the right one to understand the rest. After all, the right blood leads the way of the religion, and that is why they and you were chosen. Most likely, you have related already in one way or many. Take the small number of people in the first place and multiply it by thousands of years and the closed society, and there you are. The paths of every bloodline in the nation probably had crossed here and there and for so many times. That’s where your genes may play a more important role than you think. That’s where your existence meets your genes. You are one of the same, only you are dressed differently. Neither you pray as much and keep kosher. How important is that in the twenty-first century in America? Does God really want us to spend so much time praying? Is not he busy already and maybe not listening? What are you going to tell him that he does not know?

Going back to Williamsburg, have you seen the streetlights there? These are the rarest and the most unusual lights in the city. These are the streetlights from the 20s, 30s, 50s, and even the 70s, and almost none from today. It should tell us something. Does it? What could be unusual about modern streetlights? That they work… Well, is not that what they supposed to do? Go and see for yourself. The rare streetlights are everywhere. You’ll be amazed and in a good way. Crime in Williamsburg was practically zero, less than a zero. Jews were powerful, rigid to changes, and unforgiving to misgivings. Well, everything was forbidden unless you really want it and do privately. That’s the ethnic trade. Is anything wrong with it? The cost of the rent and the real estate were much less than in the low and the upper East and West Manhattan. And, there was a reason for that again. Everyone, every Jew, should be able to pay for the place to live so, it should be reasonable, affordable, acceptable. Was it logical? It was definitely considerate.

The Italian, Irish, Chinese, and the other neighborhoods in Williamsburg (and there are a few) were full of the nicest and very tolerant people. What a compliment that is to New York City. Was it even possible there considering everything to consider? If these people could live together and in such proximity to the Hasidim, their strange looks, beliefs, and the customs, and not to express the disapproval and the hatred too loudly, they must be the most outstanding citizens of the United States of America. That is not mentioning the entire world or even New York City that was as strange as the strangest people living there. What an interesting group of persons. Strange, stranger, and even stranger than that, and all in the same place and that close to each other. They often lived next door to each other. Almost none of them behaved like that back home; back in the corners of the world where they or their ancestors came from. If that was not true, why do you think Jews ever left the Russias and the Ukraines, and the Polands with the Germanies in the first place? What do you think of the Spanish Inquisition? Was it because of the climate change, proximity to the sea, or the quality of the ice cream served in the local ice cream parlor? Why do you think Jews for more than a thousand years were blamed for anything and everything? And, every blame was successfully resolved with rich payments in the blood of whatever number of Jews the mighty hands of the locals could reach in the shortest possible time? And they were in a hurry. The officials could show up eventually and stop the disorder. You see, it did not look good, and the undesirable gossips could spread. There should be order. Yet, that was there and then, and this is here and now. People were smarter, better educated, and the location was full if not the immigrants, but the refugees that saw it all and left. They did not want to see again what they already saw before. What difference did it make how you looked or prayed or your customs for as long as you were a decent person? I’ll leave you be what you are, and let me be what I am. That works and quite well. What a difference in the approach to the same problem, and it’s been lasting for a few hundred years already. Yes, in America, only in America. Yes, in New York City and some other cities blessed with diversity. Jews, and the Gentiles… Living in the same neighborhood, on the same street. Being in the same place and at the same time. Have you seen the Gentiles stuffing their faces in the Jewish Deli? How about the Jews in a Chinese place or an Italian? Fascinating, is not it? What an unparalleled nation, this, the American one. This is the nation of the acceptance, tolerance, and, if not always love, but the respect and the values. Today, it is not better for one than for another. Well, maybe for some, but everyone has an equal chance, and anyone can make it. We have a chance, and we offer one as well. Just try and keep on trying. Who said it should happen on the first try. It may or may not, but you do have a chance. There it is. Take it. And, keep on working, and you’ll succeed. I promise.

The Williamsburg boundaries are well defined by the Williamsburg Bridge to Manhattan and the surrounding areas on the Brooklyn side. The neighborhood is roughly circumscribed by Newtown Creek to the north, Queens to the east, Flushing and Kent Avenues to the south, and the East River to the west. What a location. What a view. It’s like one of the wonders of the world. Is that where the Jews were meant to end up when leaving Egypt? So, they did; so, they did. North 7th Street segregates the two unique neighborhoods with Greenpoint to the north and Williamsburg to the south. One can get there even using public transportation like the subway or a bus. The subway stops in that area are The G train to Greenpoint, Nassau, or Metropolitan Avenues, or the L train to Bedford Avenue or Lorimer Street. And that’s the place where the Cohens as well as many other Jews from the Mogilev Gubernia of the Russian Empire and thus, from the rest of the world had settled down with the hopes for freedom and in anticipation of so much good. Good was in the air, well, most of the time, and not exactly everywhere, still in many places, and often.

God led Jews out of bondage once before, and it worked out for a while. This could be the second time or the third. Why argue with the authority? Maybe the Russian Tsar followed God’s will and kicked the Jews out so, they could come to America, and enjoy the good life for a little while? And what is next? Well, the Jews could stay wherever they were for much longer, or they could be kicked out again. Only God knew that and maybe for sure, but those were the options. Thus, do not take your hat off and don’t really unpack. You may have to go, and soon. But where? The Earth was not such a big place. Well, God knows. God was the one with the power of decision. But, he had the ability to apply force. If that decision was made, Jews could be kicked back to wherever they came from or to a new place, or to a place where they visited already centuries ago but did not finish what they had to finish. What was that place? Do you know? Do you remember? The Bible and the history books would keep you informed. That’s where the experts get their knowledge, the expertise. Who knows what that place and the unfinished business was, but maybe it was time to go back there, and find it out? Maybe. Do you think Israel, Jerusalem? Was it even possible? Every Jew from everywhere all over sudden would go to the same place called Israel, and then what. Are they ready, the Jews over there? Do they want it? Do they want us? Maybe. Do you? But, could they handle it? All of it… So many. Perhaps. What if the next year they would be in Jerusalem. Knock, knock — we are here. Ready or not. What a story. What a dream. We would all meet in one place. Baruch Hashem! (God bless). Baruch Hashem! Is not that what you say when you want something so much, and it keeps pulling away, but you still hope?

The Cohens came from the Mogilev Gubernia (province), Orsha Uyezd (region) of Belorussia. The Orsha Uyezd, back then, mainly consisted of a multitude of small and large towns, villages, and the Jewish shtetls (settlements) with the total population of about 14000 people, and nearly 8000 Jews. Remember “Fidler on the roof” and Tevye, the Jewish milkman? That’s it, that’s the people and the place. It was almost the Jewish haven on earth if not for the Gentiles and the Tsar, and the government-sponsored anti-Semitism. Some of the Jewish towns were: Alexandria, Babinovichi, Dobromysl, Gritsevo, Gusino, Kochanovo, Liozno, Lubavichi, Mikulino, Orsha, Rudnia, Smolyani, and Starosele. And then, there were the villages and the hamlets.

The family of Cohens for generations, since the seventeenth century, when they arrived from Poland, used to live in Lubavichi. Before Poland, they resided briefly in Spain, Portugal, Germany, and Bohemia, and none of it, but Poland, lasted for any considerable period. The Jews could never grow the roots in any of those places and always got uprooted well before they were ready. The Ukrainian Cossack’s revolutionary uprising in Poland in the mid-seventeenth century resulted in the death of over 100,000 Jews living there so, the surviving Jews hurriedly went to Russia where protection was guaranteed, for the time being, by the Tsar. At the time, there were five to six hundred thousand Jews in all of Poland. So, every fifth Jew was killed by the Ukrainians, but do we know all of it? Did anyone really count the living or the dead? Back then? Back there? Did they care? Yet, the numbers could be close to reality considering the information we have.

The Tsar was growing his empire, and the Jewish skills were quite welcome. Some of the Jews were well educated and talented and offered the skills not easily found in the stone age minded Russia. But Russia wanted it. Now, Jews had a protector. With time, the Cohen family settled down in the Mogilev Gubernia of Belorussia. Back then, Belorussia was the most significant part of the Lithuanian Duchy, and the Russian Tsar eventually became the Duke of these territories. The land was plenty there, and the Tsar wanted to populate it, building a human barrier with Western Europe. Good and reliable people always were needed, and the Polish Jews were welcomed for the money and the management skills accompanied by the outstanding craftsmanship. Also, Jews had a big problem with the Poles and the Ukrainians and would stay on the side of Russia no matter what. They were not very loyal to Russia but would not betray it to Poland or Ukraine. Although Jews were strange people, they were known for being friendly, quiet, polite, trustworthy, very accommodating, and not threatening to the ruling regime. In short, they were needed and could be tolerated. Perfect. That was the understanding most of the Russian nobility supported. The decision was made, the Jews were let in, and the rules with some rare exemptions were made.

At the end of the nineteenth century, the entire Mogilev Gubernia had 85 Jewish communities (shtetls) with a total population of about 110,000 people. It was growing like mushrooms and prospering as it only could. The greatest Jewish shtetl in the gubernia was Shklov, followed by Mogilev, Dubrovno, Gomel, Tolochin, and Smoliany. At that time, Jews were moving dynamically from shtetls to the towns of Mogilev, Orsha, Gomel, and since 1880, they began actively to emigrate abroad. America was the place, but that was not easy. It was done not out of the desire for adventure or of the search for prosperity, but of the necessity. The times in Russia changed, and Jews were not welcome any longer. And, it was increasingly becoming dangerous, no matter where you lived. Lives were more and more at stake. The royal decrees of resentment, government-sponsored pogroms, and the military drafts forced the Jewish population of the Russian Pale to get up and to start moving shtetl-by-shtetl and town-by-town. Where to? What difference did it make for as long as you knew where from? It was a general consent that anywhere would be better, but some places were better than that. America, the entire continent, was on so many minds. As many times before, the Jews were on the move in search of safety, and a maybe better life. It was never the case of the greener grass on the other side, but grass or no grass, living or not. A new exodus was in the making.

The Hasidic movement Chabad was founded in the 18th century by Shneur Zalman of Lyady. The name of the movement — Chabad has derived from the initials of the words Hokhmah (wisdom), Binah (understanding), and Daat (knowledge). Shneur Zalman was opposed by Hasidic leaders living in Volhynia, as well as the mitnagdim (the opposition to the Hasidic movement) led by the Vilna Gaon (Torah Genius — Elijah Ben Solomon Zalman). Nonetheless, the movement spread the wings out and received many followers. Many liked the idea and followed the leaders with not too many questions asked. Was it good or was it bad for the Jewish population back then and even now is still open for a discussion, and often, a spirited one. Shneur Zalman’s teaching was confined in the TANYA (Hasidic Jewish book Likkutei Amarim, published in 1797). There, he developed a theosophical doctrine based on the KABBALISTIC principles of Isaac Luria. Initially, Chabad was centered exclusively in Eastern Europe, but after the First World War, it spread out to other lands due to the Jewish migration. That migration, as many times before, was forced by the wars where the Jews had to pay the heaviest price. If things did not go right for any of the fighting factions, Jews were at fault, and they had to recompense. Blood was a universally accepted currency. Whether they were guilty of anything was not really important yet, the claims were made at will. How could you argue with that? Who could argue with that? If you win, you die, and if you lose, you also die. But, if you stay quiet, you may survive. Blood was taken for payment, but money was much better. Yet, way too often, it was money, and then, the blood. Jews were so vulnerable and thus attractive for anyone with a weapon and the desire to hurt. They were many and almost everywhere. Protectors were a few and practically nowhere. Often protectors and the persecutors were the same. Often the pogrom organizers and the followers were wearing the military and the police uniforms. Sometimes they held important positions and were highly regarded, and frequently, highborn. The persecutors were well organized, funded, mobile, armed, protected, and free to do anything they wanted. And, the Jews had nothing, and no one to defend them. No one. If they fought back and, God forbid, killed someone, they could be held responsible. Back then, Jews had no lawyers, and the law had not become the Jewish profession yet. Life in the defenseless shtetel among the scared people relying only on each other and no other place to go was becoming too hard to bare. They took it for as long as they could, and it was time to pack up and move. That was Aaron’s ancestry, and, got tsu dankenhe (thank god), he was very proud of it. They were brave. With the lineage like that, how could one go wrong?

Even though many Hasidic sects and movements still exist today, Chabad-Lubavitch is by far the most well-known. Its public profile and the determination have produced a robust presence in many areas of the world, including the United States, especially the United States. Starting in the 1950s, the group’s leader, Menachem Mendel Schneerson — the seventh Chabad Rabbi — emphasized the outreach to non-observant Jews to bring them back into religion. To increase the Jewish observance, he sent emissaries (Jewish missionaries) around the world to revitalize small Jewish communities and bring individuals to more traditional Jewish practice. They also wanted to establish Jewish communities where none existed before. That was not easy and often, proved to be impossible.

Yes, in some cases, it worked, but in most, it did not. Jews did not like to be pushed back into something they left already. Most of the modern Jews thought the religion secondary if at all. Was it needed? Was it right? Some believed that there was more harm done in trying to revive the old-style Jewish communities in Russia, Ukraine, and Belorussia during the Soviet Union times. The modern, well-educated Jews did not go for it resisting every notion of religion. They liked some of the customs but saw their lives differently. And, when the Soviet system made even the traditions hard to preserve, the modern Jews abandoned it just doing what they could. For them, to be a Jew was an ethnic issue much more than a religious one. They were Jews or, let us say Hebrews, by blood. That really worked for them considering the place and the time. But, the Hasidic emissaries and the leadership of the movement denied those issues actively trusting in the teachings of Rabbi Schneerson. After all, for them, he was like a messiah. So, they kept pushing, and, as a result, many were imprisoned, and more harmed. To most of ethnic Jews, this movement was strange and questionably acceptable. But the religious fanatics blinded by the believes, could not understand or even see it.

Aaron was one of them, the Jewish emissaries. When the Rabbis called, he went. Despite his small stature and non-impressive features, Aaron possessed a powerful mind, and was ready to fight, and even to die for the cause. He was a believer, that’s all. Twice he delivered the religious books and some artifacts to the Jews in Moscow and Leningrad. They took the books, and the artifacts, but questioned his Hasidic appearance and the religious zealot. For them, all that was a novelty, and nothing more. Some of them read the books and put them on the shelf behind the Tolstoy and the Dostoevsky, but most just put them on the shelf. It would be better if no one saw those books in the house, but no one would throw them away. Books, any books, and especially, the books from the West were so precious in the Soviet Union. The Jewish books were even rarer than that. It was like to find something that did not exist. Risk? Yes, you may take the risk for something like that. It was worth it. So, they took the offering but kept quiet about the circumstances. What was there to tell? Why tell a stranger about a funny looking visitor from America and with a rare gift? Any stranger, even the closest one, could be from the KGB. Surely, the KGB knew about those people already. The KGB was everywhere. It was so true more often than not. The KGB did not want your books, but you, your visitors, and the like thinkers. Who are they? Where are they? Who else is there? Books… They just added to your guilt and your problems. If you were not too stupid, you would hide the books until the better times, and maybe not even read them. Safety was in your hands. So, stay safe, my friend.

Was all that necessary? What did this Hasidic appearance mean? Was it a fashion statement of some bizarre sort? You looked like a clown, and you spoke of the things no one could understand. Was it meant to spark some interest in the modern Soviet Jews that never went to a synagogue and often did not know where one was? No, Aaron’s Russian was not good, but they did not speak neither Yiddish nor Hebrew. English was neither a common language. Were they Jews at all? What kind? They claimed to be, and they suffered for that. They really did. Did he? None of them, but the very old people, really believed in God. They kept saying that religion was not that important, but the blood, the ethnicity, the heritage was. How could that be? The Hasidic teachings stated that religion was the driving force. The religion did not drive those people. What did he miss? What did they miss? The Rabbi could not be wrong, so, those people are. Yet, there are so many of them, and they do not see that. He must work harder and be more patient. Who said it would be easy. No, it has to be hard to produce the results.

All that was a little confusing, but Aaron trusted the Rabbis. They studied sacred books and knew that better. He did not make any friends there but was ready to do it again, and again. Aaron was arrested on the second trip to the Soviet Union and escorted out of the country. No, the Soviets did not do anything to him, but could. The Soviet law was on their side. He was lucky not to be imprisoned that was common at the time. Yet, Aaron felt like something was protecting him in the Soviet Union, and he thought that was God. Someone told him later that people he gave the books also were arrested, and imprisoned, but he doubted that. He was spreading the word of god, and that should not be punishable, even in the Soviet Union. Why would it be? How little did he know? He was so naïve, and the entire operation was so dangerous. It was not in America. Almost all people who encountered the Jewish emissaries were punished in one way or another, and the prison sentences varied. Aaron’s beliefs had very little to do with the rest of the world and mainly, the Soviet Union. The world had its own opinion and lived on its own schedule. It was not the world of the Chabad, but what it always was only much later.

Aaron Cohen strongly believed that God and his Messiah, Rabbi Schneerson, would always protect the faithful and he, Aaron, was the one — the faithful, the righteous, in all its glory. Every time the question of Jewish pride, faith, decency, honor, and the freedom were facing the doubters, Aaron was ready to fight regardless of the odds. And, he fought at the tables of his parents, in-laws, and the friends, in kosher restaurants, and the offices of the IRS. He would fight in the White House, but no one ever invited him there. He had his own battlefields where the fight could mean something. Even the Jews in the IRS offices called him the meshuga (crazy) Hasid, but they liked and respected him. Many laughed at him, and some listened to him. Often, they thought he made sense. He was not loved, but he was popular, and his accounting business was bumming. The Hasidim of Williamsburg trusted Aaron Cohen, CPA with money matters as they believed the Rabbi with the spiritual stuff. Aaron, even with his slight stature, commanded the confidence and respect of people as a giant, and he was a giant when it came to money and honesty. He knew it all and, if he did not understand something, he would genuinely study it and get the answer. He thought that the right way. When he worked for you, he really worked, and for you. Aaron also was sincere, and that was so rare. Who was really sincere in modern society? It was rare in any community, and not only in the religious ones. It was just rare in the rarest possible way. It was rare even in this community where honesty was one of the founding blocks of the credence. Hasidic… It should stand for everything good and decent. Yet, Aaron was pure and honest, and no one ever doubted that.

Rabbi Shneur Zalman was the most prominent Aaron’s ancestry on the father’s mother’s side. His grandfather used to say that it was why the Cohens never had any money but not even once was short of good thoughts. All members of the extended family tree on that side of Aaron’s ancestry were known and present down to the sixteenth century. There were many of them and so many generations. Then, the Inquisition. In the sixteenth century, it was getting complicated somewhat. That was a confusing century in many parts of the world. It was not just the time of the lost people, but the lost records as well. The Jews were trying to survive misleading the enemies; thus, hiding some, if not most, of the information. So many pieces were missing, and so many parts did not fit. Knowledge, documents, and the facts were not there any longer, and all the present Cohens had was only guesses and just some ideas. One could not eat the ideas and facts… One could not drink the guesses. It could be too hard to swallow. One could not make the borsht (the beet soup) out of nothing. One could make gornisht (nothing) out of nothing, and that’s precisely what they had. Just the bits, and pieces, and no substance… Who could know the history of the Jewish family for certain? It was so long ago and often, so far away. Witnesses did not survive, and, again, who knows what they witnessed. Was it less than what they told or much, much more? That’s the story of the Jewish people, and the Cohens did not differ much from the mainstream. Not in any typical way that one may notice. Every Jewish family at one time or another had experienced and suffered more or less the same injustice and the level of tragedy. So had some other nations but to a somewhat lesser degree.

What was there to be so different about. A Jew is a Jew is a Jew, and that was it. That was the beauty of it. Farshteyt (Yiddish-understand)? This family was like a typical cell of the living organism called — the nation of Jews. Just one of them. Yes, it was a nation, and for about thirty-five hundred years already. Some say it was for much longer. Some say it was for fifty-five hundred or so. Such a long time. Does it really make any difference? Could anyone remember anything from back then and there? It was there back then, and it is here now, stronger than ever. Do you see that? It was like the Phoenix rising from the ashes of its predecessor. The more it was hurt, the more powerful it would rise. Yes, that’s the story of the Jewish nation, in a nutshell, and the nutshell is at least thirty-five hundred years old but most likely more. Fifty-five hundred or even more. No matter what kind of twists and turns affected the nation, the Cohen family was touched in precisely the same way. Almost every Jewish family could act as a cross-section and an indicator of the Jewish turmoil projected to that specific area and the time, and then, you move to another place, and anything could happen there. That’s the bulk of it.

The level of income did not really matter. At one time or another, someone was always better off than the others, and then, the luck would move on, and you change places. All you could do, in rare cases, is to buy a little time and, all that extra time could do is to prolong the agony. The real escape from the adversity was never in the cards. Nothing was a clear cut. You were chosen. Remember? If the Jewish disaster struck, all of the Jews had to donate to the losses. That was the most important rule for the Jewish tragedy, and the favors, deviations or the exemptions were not offered nor tolerated. Only the lucky ones would be in the wrong place when the newly created catastrophe stormed through. But, it did not mean that these lucky ones had escaped the consequences, and the catastrophe will let them go. All it meant that the misfortune would get them later and maybe hit somewhat harder, like a slap on the wrist. Who could really tell what misfortune had in store for a family of Jews? It could be anything or much more. In Jewish life, trouble was the only permanent thing you could always rely on. Just wait long enough, and it will come.

On his mother’s side, somewhere in the eighteenth century, someone met someone else, a man or a woman, who was a Bukharan Jew. Maybe a Khazar? Maybe. What other Jews were there at the time? Well, in the distant past. He/she probably was a nice person, but what do we know of the Khazars? This is what we know, and one would not fill too many books with it. The Khazars came from the Medieval Kingdom of Khazaria, 652–1016. We know that over a thousand years ago or so, the far east of Europe (Eastern Russia now) was ruled by the Jewish Kings that presided over the copious tribes, including their own tribe — the Turkic Khazars. Interesting is not it. Did anyone say, Slaves? Who were they, the Khazars? Where did they come from? That is what we still need to find out, but we have some ideas. We know some, and we do not know even more. Was that the lost Jewish tribe mentioned in the Torah and so many other places? How could one misplace the whole tribe without a trace? Maybe this is the trace, the missing link? Maybe they were wandering around the Black Sea for a few hundred years and then, arrived in Khazaria? Maybe they were living there for a while before the area became known as Khazaria? There are legends in the Jewish, Russian, and the Eastern folklore. There are many legends and colorful folklore. In short, they were known and well. The Russian warlords were fighting the Jewish Khazars, laughing at them, and taking them lightly, but losing one battle after another. There is no record of Russian winnings, yet it was going on for centuries. Maybe those incidents were on a somewhat smaller scale? The border skirmishes… Who attacked whom and when did it happen? What were the Russians back then? What happened to the Slaves? Who was fighting whom and who was the winner in the end? There was a historical, but not very conclusive material available from the digs and researches, but we still rely on guesses and speculations. Records are so incomplete, scares and possibly modified. By whom? By whoever was writing the history at the time. The history was twisted and twisted again, and again, and again, and came out the way we know it now. Sometimes it sounds way too strange and even questionable, but do we know it any better? So, we have to take it the way it is and just keep digging.

In many cases, guesses and speculations were more reliable than investigations. Still, we keep digging for facts, and that fascinates us more and more. The thrill of searching, searching for truth, if possible. The look in the past, the adventure of the pursuit, and the excitement of the find. We know it makes the difference, and this was important for us and for those who briefly crossed our paths before us. They were a part of us in so many ways. Would we be us if not for them? They have existed, and we were connected, maybe more than we think. They gave us a piece of us, and that is why they were remembered. We came from them, our ancestry.

After the conversion to Judaism (or maybe they were Jews, to begin with, and that is likely), the Khazar people had employed the Jewish names, and customs. Or, they had it all ready? They spoke and wrote in Hebrew or its variations — jargons, were circumcised as all Semites did have synagogues, and the Rabbis studied and cherished Torah and the Talmud. So, did they convert, or that was the heritage? One could easily change the religion, but the heritage… How do you do that? How do you become someone else to the core? How do you change the customs, the traditions, the likes, and dislikes, the way you live? I doubt if you can do it at all. They observed all Jewish holidays such as Hanukkah, Rosh Hashanah, Passover, Counting the Omer, Shavuot, Sukkoth, Purim, and the Sabbath, and the rest of them as well. They enjoyed the Jewish music and food. They were very Jewish Jews. At the time, Khazars were an advanced civilization, and one of the most tolerant societies of the medieval period. It could be the well-missed best part of the medieval period we don’t know much about.

We know that Khazaria welcomed and willingly hosted the merchants and the craftsmen from all over Asia and Europe. It was a desirable destination, and everyone wanted to trade with the Khazars. That was a good trade. The Khazars were skilled in science, medicine, crafts, art, architecture, agriculture, weaponry, and war. Khazaria was a prospering place. This kingdom was a jewel amid slowly developing, somewhat backward Muslim kingdoms. It was rich, strong, and powerful, and it definitely influenced the development of the society in that region. And, everyone wanted to conquer it, but not to destroy. The Khazars were too precious to be killed or just enslaved. That was not a good policy, and the conquerors of the time had realized it fast. They were brutal but never stupid. Even the bloodiest butchers of the time understood that the Khazars had to be incorporated into any other society, almost willingly, to survive, and to satisfy the newly emerging powers. And, new powers were emerging rapidly and always with a bang. That was the time of permanent turbulence. Something was brewing somewhere all the time. So, what happened to the Khazars? Could that be Islam? Another big accomplishment of the false prophet? Possible, but unlikely. For hundreds of years, Khazars had the monotheistic, one-god, religion already, and Islam was only making its way in, but it did not carry anything new for the Jews. Actually, Islam was offering less, and it was more mystical thus, not as much desirable. Islam could not compete with them, not yet.

Could that be the Mongols and the Tatars? The timing was right. Could the Khazars become the Mongols or the Tatars? When did it happen? How? Did they integrate completely with one of those cultures or both? Were both cultures so flexible to allow for that? Was that how the Mongols and the Tatars were able to rule the known world for five hundred years? Was that the secret of such a bloody success? Then, they paved the way for the Ottoman Empire and another bloody success. It could very well be, but we do not know that for sure. Anything was possible if God was willing. Boruch Hashem! (Hebrew: Praised be God!). Allahu Akbar! (Arabic: Allah is the Greatest!). Mirtseshem! (Hebrew: God willing.). Inshallah! (Arabic: God willing.).

So, they (Aaron’s lovely ancestors) met somewhere somehow, and suddenly, became bashert (betrothed). History does not elaborate on this subject much. For all we know, it happened, and that’s the fact. Naturally, their parents arranged for that. How else it could have been done? But, there was love somewhere amid things. However, he or she (whoever was the Bukharan Jew or the Khazar, or any kind of a foreigner) was quite a catch if the other side went through this kind of problems. After all, where was that Bukhara, and how did one find the Jews in there? They all were a lookalike, and they all were dressed alike, and they didn’t speak good Yiddish. Any Yiddish? Oi, Vai! (Dear me!). So, what was good of them? The Jews in there did not look like Jews at all to any Jew outside Bukhara. That was a strange place; a foreign place. And, what did the Jews do over there? Go figure, and what would you know? And, what would you find out? Bubkes (small, useless, and worthless things), if nothing else. What else could it be? God forbids. It could be much worse. He could marry a Shiksa (a none Jewish female), and she could marry a ganef (a thief). Then what? Umglik — disaster. This was better, maybe. So, it was done and accepted, but that’s the kind of mishpocha (the extended family, including the in-laws) one may get marrying outside the own shtetl. Let me tell you: keep your adventures and the logical conclusions within the shtetl boundaries. It is much safer and more predictable but, if you were so adventurous, such a lady man, and a grossier potz (big prick), at least stay within your gubernia. Be smart; it pays. Troubles do not grow on trees, but more problems could arise from the ones you planted already.

So, at one time, the Aaron mother’s side went astray, outside of any conservative boundaries and that produced a wild beast from no one knows where, as an ancestor. A new saga just started. A wild one… What a story. What a tale. What an adventure that may take you a thousand years back, a time before time in terms of the Williamsburg Jewish population, and that’s the center of the world. Was it good, or was it bad? Well, it all depends on how you look at it. Maybe it was not that bad. No matter how you slice it, but Aaron was the result of that experiment. Can you change what happened so long ago? Do you want to change it? Do we really need it? The change? It was not too bad so far. So, what’s the problem? Women start crying, and men take to a drink when they hear a bubbe meise (an old woman tale) like that, and that happens often. Well, no matter what but that was the story, and that’s how we know it. The newlyweds did not move out the beautiful and so familiar Mogilev Gubernia. They stayed there with the family and the friends, and the pain of the Russians and the Byelorussians being in charge and ordering them around. Oi, gevald! (Oh, help). What a tsuris (Yiddish — trouble, aggravation).

The Russian Tsar! The Russian nobles! Even that must have been better than whatever they had in the wild, wild East of Bukhara. How far was it from the shtetl of Lubavichi? Mogilev Gubernia? Was not that the Muslim reign by then, and that did not promise much. Still, often, Muslims were better than the Russians. Go figure or stay and try to survive. You better stay and don’t go anywhere. It is safer that way, and you may use some safety. The Muslims mit (with) the angry characters, mit the dark constitution, mit the horses, mit the swords, mit constant running around, mit no one knows where, mit the harems, and mit the deserts and the sand. Harems — that’s nice, but could not be good for your soul, and did they eat kosher? The angry characters? Well, the harems were not too bad of an idea, but you cannot have one without another. It’s either the Muslims mit the swords and mit the harems or no Muslims mit the pain and the aggravation, and mit no harems for your delights. It was too appalling to pass, but we must sacrifice the most intimate desires to stay pure, and whole. Yes, we must, and that is not easy at all. God is demanding that, and we must obey. God is one! And he is in charge.

“My boychik, my kaddishel (baby boy), Aaron, he is like a lion. Do you know that he is one inch taller than I am, and three inches taller than his mother, Miriam? May she live for one hundred and twenty years. He is so big and strong.” Yossel, Aaron’s father would tell it to anyone who listened and not sped away at the earliest convenience. People use any excuse and often, none to disappear. Well, Yossel liked to repeat himself when he told these stories, and that was okay but boring. “Aaron would fight anyone and win. He is so big and powerful. Look at his chest? A regular barrel. He could stop a train in its tracks, but where would he find one. He could’ve been a soldier, but why. We are peaceful people. But, if needed, he would’ve been one. Do you know what we did when he was a little boy? I fixed a horizontal piece of pipe in the hallway. That was my neighbor advice. The neighbor was as strong as a bull himself, and his chest was like a barrel as well, if not bigger. He was a butcher. He could kill a bull with the bare hands, but why. He was a good man and very strong, but he died. He drank like a Goy (non-Jew) and was hit by a car. What can you do? Sad, but it happens. God rest his soul. Anyway, every time the boychik would pass it, the horizontal bar in the hallway, he would jump up, and hang there by the pipe with his little hands. Just hang there, for as long as he could. That made him grow tall and strong, and his chest is like a barrel. Aaron is a CPA, you know. That’s a very responsible position. He was second in his class. It was the Baruch College here in New York. Great school, many Jews. What is your son doing? My kaddishel battles the IRS every single day, and he wins. He knows that stuff, the money, and the taxes. He knows many things and can argue his point. He is a protector of honest workers. It is almost like David and Goliath. My Aaron is like David, you know, and he fights for anyone, even the Goyem (non-Jews). The IRS is the ganef — the crook, the thief, the burglar, the swindler, the racketeer, the government, the Goliath. It takes from us, the hard-working people, and spends it mostly on the useless stuff. The politicians — the biggest of the thieves. They have an army of lawyers and even more crooks. And, all we have is my son, Aaron. That is not much, but he is a fighter and an honest man.”

Yossel, or otherwise known as Yossele, was an even smaller man than his son was, but a spirit. He had a little shop of the religious artifacts located on the outskirts of Williamsburg. It was a small affair but just enough to feed the family. The rent was cheaper there, and people needed the religious artifacts no matter what. Some people say location, location, and location, but for the religious artifacts that were not true. You must have the right stuff. That’s it. Try to think like the person buying it, and you’ll know what you want to buy. That was very important for success. And, Yossele knew the religious artifacts and kept the prices fair. So, the shop was there and not on the main street. There were a few shops on the main street already anyway. Why would you need more? He was not affluent or well-educated, but he was a hardworking man and very honest. Honesty was the chief possession that the family had, and they were so proud of that.

Yossele was a mentsh (a special man or person who was respected). People knew that and listened to what he had to say often, just out of respect. He came from a family of thirteen children, and his father was only a tailor. Most of the tailors could make children better and faster than to tailor. But, what else would you do on a cold night if not tailor? Work was scarce at times, and coal was expensive all the time. Being a good tailor, back then, did not equate to being rich or even having money. Every tailor was good back then; how could you survive otherwise. You could stitch and stitch well, and so what. You could not produce more customers and could not sew more money. Aaron’s grandfather, Menachem, had many interests, and even more children. More people owed him money than paid, but he was well respected and never ran out of favors. Even in difficult times, the butcher, the grosser, and the baker would not ask him for money. They would wait for Menachem to bring it in when he had something to bring in. In the end, he always paid when he could.

After all, Menachem always waited for them, and none of them wanted to discuss money when other pressing issues were at hand. What was more important? Williamsburg was getting bigger, and stronger with every passing year. More people were moving in by the minute. A new high-rise apartment building (six stories) was just erected across the street from the butcher’s shop. That was something to talk about. That was huge. New people from Russia just moved in. Were they relatives? Where exactly are they from? We need to go and talk to them. They may need help. Brooklyn was becoming gigantic with all kinds of people moving in and out. It was becoming a metropolis of the international proportions. Rebbitzen (Rabbi’s wife) was expecting a new baby, and Menachem just had a new baby. And, the butcher had six, but he wanted more. And, the baker’s wife could not give birth at all. That was a tragedy, and they discussed it. That was something to discuss, to worry about. Money…not so much.

The shochet (the kosher butcher) thought that she, the baker’s wife, had too narrow hips to give the birth, but a druker (a printer) from the shop on the corner said that it could be him, the baker. But, the baker did not want to hear any of that and was planning to adopt an orphan from Eretz Israel. Was it possible? Some said yes, but some said no. Did the Rabbi know? What did he say? What do they say in Israel? Israel was not a big country, but they had way too many orphans. The world acted as it always was the hunting season on Jews. Still, some children survived and needed help. That was something to talk about. Why talk about the money when no one had it or really cared about? Money was not everything, but being a good Jew and the health of the community was. Help others, and they will help you. Was it done in any other community? They did not know, but it was not that important anyway.

Lately, many Hasidic youngsters had moved from their own shtetl — Williamsburg of New York, to the outside world. Was it wise? Some of them, Got zol ophiten! (God forbids!), took the black kaftans and the hats off, and got the haircuts where payos were not included. They looked like any Gentile on the street and not really chosen. What was wrong with them? Was the world going crazy? What was next — no kosher? Driving a car on Sabbath? TV? Ballet? Opera? Short skirts? Dancing with women? Praying in the same hall, together, men and women?

We had these privileges from God since forever, and now what. To uncover your head… No beard… No payos… No prescribed clothes… What a shame! What a failure. Naked among the wolves. Some, many, kept wearing the yarmulke (the skull-cap), and they went to the synagogue on the Sabbath and the high holidays, and that was that. Did they follow all the regulations? Kosher? Who can say? Who would really know? Did they keep kosher, really keep it to the letter of the law? What if they did not? What’s then? The Hasidim were getting born, but the total numbers of the righteous were getting fewer and fewer, and that was painful. This was the genuine article. This was the major blow. Has God intended that? Why would God do that? Was it a rejection of the chosen? Why would God reject so many people he had chosen before? Why? That was something to talk about, and not the money. Money! What is there to talk about? One either had it or not, and nothing could be done about.

Menachem was afraid that the shift up in the general education created the shift down in the religious beliefs. Many Jews were turning away from God. Got tsu danken (Thank God), none of them dropped the traditions. Something was better than nothing. Traditions tended to stay longer, often forever. Matzo was on the tables during the Passover and not the bread. That was good, that was something already. Nevertheless, the foundation of Jewish life, as he knew it, was shaking, and Menachem was scared. Why was it happening? Who needed that? It was again the revolution and in its ugliest form. There was so much danger there. He resisted accepting life without Hasidic beliefs and Hasidic customs. He wanted everything to remain as it was for the last two hundred years. It was fine. Why fix if it was not broken? Mitten derinnen? (All over sudden?) Meshuga! So, high education was not in the book for Menachem and his children.

Study the Torah, and that is more than enough for a good Jew to be a good Jew. Torah has everything you may need, and it would make you good. That was the rule of law, and they followed it. So, the girls were married off to good and honest men; two sons had joined the father in the tailor’s extravaganza. One son became the baker’s apprentice, and later, a partner and a little Yossele had a small Jewish artifacts shop. Naturally, Yossel, being in a new business, needed more help than the others, and they all helped. The family had to stay together and support each other. Who else was there to think of you? So, drop the squabbles and help each other as much as you can if not more. Thus, they all came whether he needed it or not. The whole arrangement looked to everyone involved entirely fair. Each one was married, had children, and was equally poor, and often, happy.

“So, your son is a doctor? A gynecologist? Just for the Jews? Oh, for anyone. Do they need it too? I see. Do you think they look different down there? I mean the Goyem. I suppose not. So, he makes a good living, your son? Of course, he does. Why do I ask? He has to. Otherwise, why would he spend all his time looking in there? All the way down there. Under the skirt… You saw it once you saw it a thousand times. Am I right? Maybe he likes it and gets good money at the same time. That should be it. Could that create a problem at home? I mean, you see so many of them; do you want to see one more. Dentist investigates one end of your body; proctologist — at the opposite end of the same body, and your son gets to enjoy himself right in the middle of it. Smart boy. Very smart boy. You should be so proud of him. Are you? Can all three doctors check one patient at the same time? It could save so much time, but they could charge the same. That could be interesting. Progress. New development in medicine. I would like to see that. Would you? Does your son need an accountant? Of course, he does. Here is my son’s, Aaron, card. Call him and use my name. I am his father and a good reference. Tell him that you are a good friend. It does not matter if we just met. We could’ve known each other for ages. We could’ve been related for all I know. He’ll take care of you. Gai gezunterhait! (Go in good health!). Talk to your son. Lucky boy. A doctor. A Gynecologist of them all. He looks under the skirt all day long. Interesting profession.” Yossel was so happy to spread the word of his son. That was such a joy. His son, Aaron, was the first university-educated Cohen in the family, and that was not something to sneeze at. He got the education and stayed with the community. After all, one does not move out and change a life just to get an education and a good profession. One could remain a Jew and be anyone. Anyone. That’s a fact. A CPA could wear the yarmulke and the kaftan of the faithful, and so is a doctor or a scientist. Why is it not? Who said that one cancels out the other? It is all in your mind and in the heart. Follow the ancient customs and be righteous. Be respectful and respected. How difficult is that? Follow your ancestors. They were a great lot. Oh, they suffered. They suffered so much. And we suffer. We suffer so much. Be a good Jew, and God will never leave you. God be always with you. Aaron was a righteous Jew, and Yossele was so proud of him.

“My Aaron? What a kop (head) he has.” Miriam — Aaron’s mother — loved to be the center of attention at the Borsht Circuit (the resort hotels in the Catskill Mountains of New York area with an almost entirely Jewish clientele, who were fond of borsht). “He saved last year two thousand dollars for his cousin in taxes. His cousin is not rich, and that helped so much. And children… They are regular geniuses. He has five, you know. He could have more, but he married late, at twenty. But, he will. I know he will. They are still so young. He is so smart. What a kop he has. Do you have children? Good. Grandchildren? Oh, they will come soon enough, Mirtseshem (God willing!). The sooner — the better. Children are such a blessing, and grandchildren are even more. Now, do you have an accountant? You always need one. My son, Aaron, can help you with anything. Even with the grandchildren. Ha, ha… It’s a joke, of course. Do you love your children? Of course, you do. I love my Aaron and his kids. What a blessing, what a blessing. God did not give Yossele and I more happiness with children, but Aaron is such a reward. So, here is his card. Call him and use my name. Tell him that you are my good friend even if we met just now. We could’ve been, you know. He’ll take care of you. Gai gezunterhait! (Go in good health!).” She smiled. She always smiled like no one else, as smiles reflected her soul.

“So, you have only one son, and he is a god in your eyes. Mazel Tov (congratulations)! I have three sons. So, I have three gods. It’s the entire Mount of Olympus. I guess one son should be counted too. After all, he is your son, and you love him.” That was an ample lady in the red wig sitting just across the table from Mrs. Cohen. They were playing cards. She had three sons against the one Mrs. Cohen had, but she was at least five times larger than Aaron’s mother was. There goes the ratio. Go figure. “My sons are so educated. They make good money and take care of us at our old age. Yes, they have accountants working for them. After all, someone has to count the money they make. They make so much of it. They are good boys, you know. My husband and I tried so hard, and they came out alright. I say they are even better than we thought they’ll be. They studied so hard, and it was quite expensive. But it was worth it. It all runs in the family, you know. Everyone in our families is so educated. So smart… We have the Rabbis, doctors, writers, teachers, scholars, and even the CPAs. We have them all. Yes, my husband, and I came from very educated families, and we are so proud of that.” Now she looked even bigger than before. Pride, in her case, was acting as an air pump working overtime. “Here is my oldest son’s business card. You see, he is a doctor. Give it to your son. He can use my name. Who knows, my sons may need one more accountant. Good luck to your son, dear. It happens sometimes. Even a poor accountant deserves better.”

Mrs. Cohen never took anything like that close to the heart. What’s the big deal? She considered it a marketing expense. She firmly believed that she had to do anything, well almost anything, for her son’s future. And, this was just one of the things. Yes, she and her husband always wanted many children, but she had a weak heart and a small, fragile constitution. Who could say where it all came from, but the history of the Jews was full of cute and memorable examples. Tears, hunger, repression, physical abuse, death, and the constant scare — pick any or all of them. Then, when you made your pick multiply it by thousands of years and hundreds of generations, and you would come up with a weak heart and small, fragile constitution. You may even come up with the sicknesses the other people did not have, something unique for the Jews. This was not a nation of giants, but this was a nation of geniuses. Brains had to take over the weak bodies compressed by the weight of two thousand years of the sorrow and create what we see now — the brainy nation of Jews. And, now you know what you know. Yet, there were some exemptions.

So, Aaron, thanks to his family and friends, was a popular man, who honestly earned his right to work for as many hours as he could stand and making enough to survive. Many could work long hours, but the survival often required a second job or an extracurricular activity. Some had fallen for that, and the religious Jews, even the Rabbis, were making news in the courts. That was not good no matter how you slice it. The constant need for money and the painstaking desire for a break from the financial chokehold did it to them. The weak had often reserved to crime. Did they know that it was a crime? Was it a crime in their minds to lie and to steal from a Goy? They tried not to take from a Jew.

Did it make any difference? Who can tell what was in their minds, but they committed a crime. A Hasidic Jew — a criminal. Impossible. Unthinkable. Aaron took it for a personal insult and could pray the whole night for the soul of the offender, not believing, deep inside, that forgiveness should be granted. He was a tolerant man with an open mind, and he could not find an excuse for a crime committed by a Goy and, especially, by a Jew. Crime is a crime is a crime. If he, Aaron Cohen, could not understand or forgive it, how could God do that?

No, Aaron was sure of that. God would never forgive crime and, no matter what crime one had committed, crime was always a crime. Crime did not pay. Crime had no excuse. The crime was never justified and must be punished. A Jew should not commit a crime, no matter what. How could a chosen one commit something unlawful? The chosen did not do that. That separated us from the others. No, a Jew, the chosen one should be judged harsher than anyone else. We were the chosen ones. A Jew should follow God, and God would never lead anyone to a crime. Crime, no matter how small it is, was evil and should be treated as such. That’s what Aaron believed, and that’s what was the center of every lesson his children had to learn.

The burning town. Another… The broken-down walls. The broken-down people. The dead and the wounded. Animals… People and animals… Stench… Revulsion. The war machines keep spurting the projectiles of rock and clay jars bursting with burning oil. Fire… Death and distraction. Screams of the soldiers scaling the walls. Cries of the soldiers defending the walls. Laud. Cries of the children and women being raped, dying, or taken into slavery. The rare men, only the best craftsmen, were awarded the privilege of becoming a slave, but then, the luck was on the side of the dead. Dead… Dying… Wounded and injured. Slavery was the never-ending death, never-ending torture, and boundless dismay. Horses, men, blood, smell. Death and the mutilation. The horror of life and the terror of death. What is more powerful? The hungry fire sweeps over the town devouring it piece by piece, morsel by morsel. Heat. Unbearable heat. Houses, homes, and people. Tragedy. Pain, blood, violence, injustice. Death, death, death. Cries for help. Screams. The hill was littered with the bodies of the attackers. The town… The town was littered with the bodies of the defenders. He could not see much there. That was too far away. Was it still standing? Any of it? He was looking from the outside; he was outside with the attackers. Why? Who was he? Why was he there?

Another dream. Leah woke him up, crying. She was crying much lately. Was it because of him? Where was he? Where was the burning town? Bodies, screams… Animals, the stench… He was in the house. His house. Why was it so hot in the house? It was never that hot. They did not like hot. The cold sweat was pouring down in streams. Even the pillow and the bed sheets were soaked with his sweat. No, it was hot. Why the cold sweat? Oh, the children. Two were sick with the flu, two at the same time. Poor Leah. It has been for a while already. A few days for sure. He needs to pray for them more. They were children and needed all the help they could get. Praying could help. It always helped in the end. In the end, sickness would go away, but you needed to pray. You needed God on your side.

God always helped in the end. Leah said that he was howling and calling names. But, he was asleep. Just now, and that was why she woke him up. She was getting scared, and he could wake up the children. Yes, he was screaming, howling. How else could you call that? Why? Is it the dream? It was so bizarre. She could not understand the words, but he was saying something, yelling, demanding, ordering. It was like another language. She could not understand the words. She had to do something, bring him back from wherever he was, and she did. She woke him up, somewhat violently. Sorry. She was shaking him until he opened the eyes, woke up. He was covered with cold sweat and hot tears. His eyes would not concentrate on her. He was searching for something.

“What do you want? What are you searching for? The knowledge? What knowledge? You know everything you need to know. You know the Torah; what else do you need? Torah is the knowledge, eternal knowledge. You read too many books, and you have the other knowledge. Enough already. You are at home, our house. I am Leah, your wife. Let me help you. What can I do to help you? Do you need a doctor? Do you need a Rabbi? Let me help you. Let me hold you. We are all here for you. Children are here for you. Do you want me to call your parents? They would come right away and help you. They are your parents and good people. Do you want me to call the Rabbi? He is a good man and would come too. We are all here for you. Tell me what you need. Tell me what you want.”

Was he really crying? He was in shock. What was it again? It happened before, but it was not that bad. He could not remember the details. Was it a war. It was some kind of war. What war? He had never seen the battle. He had never been even close to one. Did he want to remember the details? Did he want to remember what he saw? Horror… What a pain. Grief… What a dismay. What was the place? Turkmenia? Uzbekistan? Tajikistan? Russia? The people, the defenders, looked like that. How do they look? Was it the Khazar kingdom? How did it look like? He did not know. It was so confusing. He read about that region but did not really know much. He was muddled. When was it happening? Why? Was it a thousand years ago? It definitely was a long time ago. The people, the clothes, the look of everything. Why did he see it at all? How was he involved with all of that? What was the link, the relation? It was so terrifying. The horror of violent death. The revulsion of life in slavery. So much destruction. He saw hundreds of dead and dying. Hundreds of mutilated beyond the recognition. It was all there, in the dream.

Ulaanbaatar

GENGHIS KHAN

The emergency meeting of the Chiefs of the State of the Great Mongolian Nation started promptly at seven o’clock in the morning.

The following officials were present:

- The President VAGABUNDI;

- The Prime Minister ALBAGDRORJ;

- The Deputy Prime Minister: OLAANI, and

- The Cabinet appointed by the State Great Hural (the parliament) in consultation with the President.

That was a very early meeting even by the emergency standards, but the rest of the day was scheduled already minute by minute, and nothing could be canceled. Everything seemed to be equally important and demanded at least some attention. Even a small nation as Mongolia had a busy life, and the emergencies had to be prioritized. Problems were piling up much faster than they were being solved, and the extra emergency was not appreciated. It often seemed as crises had their own life then, how do you rain them in. Mongolia was a sovereign nation, and the problems knew it very well and waited for their turn. So, what do you do if you are a government official that wants to do something good, and on time? Well, you sleep less and make your day longer or be like the rest of the important people and wait for the things to happen by themselves. That was the government way.

President Vagabundi understood the sense of urgency when Prime Minister Albagdrorj called him last night and asked for the time to meet as soon as only possible. It did not have to be right away, but as early in the morning as was only feasible. The Prime Minister wanted to invite a few more people from the leadership as well. That would take a little time to arrange, but he could handle it. This was the second term for the President, and he knew that none of the people present this morning would ask for the emergency meeting like this if there was no substantial reason, no real emergency. Something happened, and he did not know it yet. By the sound of it, that would have to be a grandmother of all emergencies that would stand out from all adversities.

All of the present were patient people with years of experience managing disasters. Disasters, if not for disasters, there would be nothing to manage, and then, what would they do. How would they justify the salaries and the perks they received? What about the luxury residences and the summer houses? What about foreign trips and gifts? What about everything that they had, and people did not. And they wanted more. How would they justify the very existence of the government? And, they wanted to stay in for much longer, for life. The true Mongols were as enduring as the ancient hunters lying in wait for the prey to pass by. If you waited long enough, it would come. That worked back then and still works now. And, these, in this room, were as true Mongols as they come. They were the pureblooded Mongolians and knew what that meant. The pride of Mongolia was sitting in this room right now with deep concern on their worried unshaven faces. They were nervous. What did they have to say? Why the faces of these tempered as steel fighters were so solemn?

Thanks to the Gods, the Soviets were gone, and Mongolia was free for the first time in so long. Hundreds, if not thousands, of economic, political, and the social obstacles were conquered already. Life was good and getting better, if not by the minute, but on an annual basis. They knew how to keep their heads cool and just work on the problems until you solved it or at least made it less damaging for the ruling party and the government. Keep the country above the water all the time, okay, most of the time. The unsettled problems were not an option, not in this country and not with this administration. They wanted real solutions and often managed them. There were not afraid of work but tended not to overdo that. Still, they did what they could. After all, it was not America where one could kick the can down the road for many years if not forever. America, what a fairytale. Mongolia was real. In Mongolia, the road was not that long if there was a road at all. And, one had to have a can to kick it anywhere. They were not wealthy enough to waste resources on the same thing, time, and time again. The Americans did that all the time. They did it all the time. That made it much easier to muddy the water, not do anything, and come out clean as a whistle. Democrats… Demagogues… The Russians usually ignored the proverbial can altogether. Why bother… If you ignore the problem long enough, maybe it would go away by itself. Possibly it was not there in the first place. Who would argue it with the KGB? The Mongols had a different situation to deal with. They confronted the problem if the problem had not challenged them first. They dealt with it as the situation permitted, to the best of their abilities. They lost many battles but had won some. There always was a solution if you really looked for it. Just try harder. Once more… Hence, if they needed to meet at seven or five o’clock in the morning or very late at night, they did it. Time was never in their corner, and problems had to be taken care of.

It was a cold, unpleasant, and somehow wet day. Chill and wetness were setting the residence in the bones with no immediate plans to leave. Yet, there was no rain. Still, the wetness was everywhere coming from the air and going all the way through the bones, even the small ones. That was not fun at all. The moisture, heavy clouds, wind, and low self-esteem were the main characteristics of this time of the year in the Mongolian steppes. Despite the odds, it happened in Mongolia. So, that’s when Kumis (the Mongolian fermented horse milk) tended to play its role a little more than the usual. One started drinking it in the morning just to take the chill and the dampness off the bones. Cold or warm, Kumis did the body good.

Try it for yourself, check it for size, kick the tires, and take it for a spin. It could work for you better than you think. That could be your comfort food, comfort drink, and the comfort itself in the piala (round cup with no handles) of any size. Mongols did not have the seasons as the rest of the world did. Surrounded by the Altai Maintains on one side and the Gobi Desert on the other, the country had a climate like no other place on earth. Dry winds from the desert, snow, and rains from the mountains, and the hills, and the lash full of grass valleys, and parched, lacking water steppes drove people to the nomad way of life. Then, sheep, horses, and camels were the only means of survival. That’s all the Mongolian people had during the freezing months. And that was more than half of the year. Still, they lived like that for thousands and thousands of years and did not want to change anything. Many went out and saw what the other parts of the world could offer and then, they came back. And, many more were planning to return soon. The home was always home, and that was more comfortable than not. This is what they knew, and that was what they liked. You live in the city and work somewhere, or you lead the Nomad life in the steppes, you are home, and it becomes more and more comfortable with every passing day. After the Soviets left, and the Socialism with all these failing ideas was gone, they had a shot at the happiness. Maybe it was not the full-blown happiness, but it was a much happier life than before. They never had it before, not in their lifetimes. Maybe Mongols were happy people a thousand years ago, but then, it was gone and lost in the wilderness of somewhat modern times. It took hundreds of years and dozens of generations for the Modern Mongols to start recovering, and they tried hard. The results, even the small ones, could be seen here and there. Still, it could be seen. People smiled more often and even laughed given a chance. The modern Mongols were friendly people and very hospitable to those who meant no harm. Most did not mean any harm and extended the hand in friendship. Most were friends already and just wanted to get to know you better, share some thoughts, and the experiences. Some of it was unique and even rare. Tourism in Mongolia was at the peak, and the Mongols were welcomed just about everywhere. Live and let live.

Work hard and be happy enjoying what you have, and not be afraid of the knock on the door at three o’clock in the morning. The Japanese and the Chinese oppressors were gone, and even the Soviets were pushed out. That was a lucky break, and no blood was spilled. Redistribution of wealth and the gory executions were the Soviet way of justice, and that’s where the injustice was resigning. No matter who ruled Mongolia over time, it was a bloody affair, and the Mongolians were bleeding to death. Thanks to the Second World War and then, the Soviet collapse, it was there no more, and people could smile more often and even laugh given a chance. They were free. Everyone had a roof over the head, food was plenty, and the sun was up and shining almost every day. Things were looking up, and life was so promising.

Ulaanbaatar, the modern capital of the country, named after the hero and the leader of the 1921 uprising that liberated the Mongols from the Chinese oppression and some other smaller towns offered a different perspective on life to the harsh Mongolian reality. Mongolia was a small country squeezed into a huge space where one could wonder endlessly not being spoiled by the presence of others. Who needed the others when you had a sheep, a horse, and a camel? A wife and a few children could go far, helping with endless choirs. Parents could join the extended family just to make life that much easier for everyone. As the wise man said, one arrow could be easily broken, but many arrows together could resist the harshness of life. Even the small traditional Yurt (Turkic language) or Ger (Mongolian language) — portable round tents made of wood and the felt, were large enough to accommodate a decent size family. Privacy? How important is that? This is your family, and you have nothing to hide. And, the warmth and comfort were not even a question. With the open fire built right in the middle of the tent and the smoke going out through the round opening in the roof, it was warm and even cozy. The nasty elements could be ripping the world apart just on the other side of the thin wall, but the family and the guests stayed together and enjoyed the warm comradery. The Nomad families liked to stay together if only it were possible. These Nomads were like any other Nomads in the world. Why would they be any different? Yet, it was a harsh life, and one had to adjust to it, and rather fast. One could shepherd a few animals he had, hunt for meat (game runs plenty in the steppes), and horses would give you the Kumis, and even more meat. But, horses and the camels were so vital to survival and were prized. Often, they were cherished more than people. Conflicts developed, and wars were fought over those animals. Blood was spilled, but not of the animals. Still, hash or not, you could go anywhere and do whatever you like. You were free, and only the wind was more liberated than you. Yet, the wind had more responsibilities in the steppes.

Still, you had more responsibilities in the Yurt. This was the Mongolian world, and that was the life of the Nomads. No matter what your title was, deep inside, you were still a Nomad. The prairies, hills, rivers, rain, snow, and the wind in the horse’s hair — thousands of romantic nights under the huge Mongolian sky. What do you dream of under the enormous Mongolian sky? Is it the riches, the exotic places, the beautiful maidens, the heroic acts? Yes, and freedom. After all, you have everything you need in the steppes, but you could use a few more horses and maybe a camel or two. You could use a few more wives and more children. You could use a lot of beautiful things, but you had everything you needed already.

You were free as a wild horse running in the horde through the steppes. No one could tell you what to do, and you had your honor. You were you, and only that counted and then, your family and friends. No one could take that away from you. What is a better life for a free-spirited Nomad? In times, it was not so good for them, but then, it was yours and so familiar. Some would find it exacting and difficult, but the Mongols called it home. That was the best home they ever wanted. It was their home. They had it for thousands of years and thought the place was beautiful. And, it was to them. They did not know any better, and they did not want to know any better. What for? So, that was it. Still, many did not like it and, if they did not like it well enough, they did not stay there for too long. That was a part of freedom. Thus, go anywhere you want and do whatever you want. Just be a good Mongol.

During the Soviet domination, cities, towns, factories, and the apartment buildings were built, and the industrial jobs presented a more profitable, less demanding, and a better alternative. The mostly Nomad population of the Mongols (Khalkha — 94.9%), Turkic (mostly Kazakh — 5%), and the others (including Chinese and the Russians — 0.1%) liked it somewhat but was confused. Still, education was readily available in the Soviet-type Universities and the specialized schools. The Communist Party promised more material commodities than the Khans of the past ever dared to think off. The Khans were not that sophisticated back then, and the modern life offered much more. All the Mongols had to do in exchange was to work hard and wait for Socialism and later, the Communism to arrive. Well, neither of them did. The Khans promised less but often delivered it, and the Soviets promised a lot, but no one ever saw it. For some people, life became more comfortable, and for some, it remained the same. But, most were below the poverty line. And, the poverty line was too low, to begin with. That was set on the level of not to starve to death. One could not go any low than that. The everyday survival of these people was a major miracle by itself, and they thanked Buddha more and more often.

Buddha could understand. But, Buddha was not a member of the Communist Party and not very much loved by the leaders. Thus, religion had to be hidden from the jealous eyes of the informants, and that was almost half of the country. But, Buddha saw it all yet, he carried very little weight in the Soviet infrastructure. And, deep inside, even the prosperous citizens of the cities, members of the party, and the informants equally yearned for the open space of the Mongolian steppes and the simple Yurts of Nomads. They missed the small, but so powerful horses (Aduu in Mongolian) of the warriors and the slightly fermented not so deliciously smelling milk (Kumis) of the horses and the camels. This milk was considered more nutritious than the cow’s or the goat’s milk. And, that was the milk of choice for generation after generation, for thousands of years, of the Mongols and the other Nomad tribes of the region sharing the steppes with them.

The newcomers and just the brief visitors of this thrilling nation had to start by taking a stroll down any residential street in the Mongolian towns. And then, to go through the first introduction to the savory odors of the habitual meals of this exotic cuisine. Meat — whatever you have; spices — maybe; taste — for sure; smell — somewhat pungent. It would not remind you of the French or the Italian cousin and would not make you salivate too much. That’s on the good side. Over salivating is not too attractive. These striking smells were often too strong and too potent for some of the travelers from the somewhat gentler environment, but you must hold on and give it a chance. Was not it why you were there, to experience it all? You did not go there just for the cuisine, and it may pay back one day. You may know the difference by then and like more where you came from. If you are invited into somebody’s Ger (traditional round tent dwelling) or an apartment, you will probably have an opportunity of tasting buuz, khuushuur and the bansh — the most popular dishes of that corner of the world. These Mongolian national feasts are made with plenty of minced meat heavily seasoned with garlic or/and onion (this meat can be anything from the mutton to beef to a camel to horse to gazelle or a combination of it all). Roofed with flour, it could be steamed in boiling water, fried in oil or just boiled in water. Some veggies and rice could be served as the side dish, but that is not a must. Meat is the real foundation of the Mongolian meal. Meat is the main staple of the Mongolian existence for as long as the Mongols were around. A drink of fermented milk of any of these animals would always accompany this cooking delight. Thus, it is never Kosher or Halal, and that’s the warning for the religious visitors of the country. You do not go there for that, but you may find it somewhere there if you look harder. Thus, be smarter and bring your own or ask for a different dish. For many visitors to the country, the vast quantities of meat consumed there can, at first, be surprising and often hard to swallow. But, it is not long before a visitor finds their favorite Mongolian food, be it buuz, khuushuur or a few other treats not hidden still, not discovered on the beginning. Even the hardened vegetarians and the vegans would find something fitting their taste and convictions. Unfortunately, there is not going to be much of a variety, and it is limited mostly to rice dishes. Well, the rice is plenty and is cooked in a few different ways. The country and the people are full of surprises, and that is pleasant and even more surprising. Most of the food in Mongolia was designed for people to sit around the fire with the family and friends and eat together as a community. It is communal food, and you eat it from the same cooking dish or a pot, often with your fingers. That was a tribal society all the way, no matter where and how you turn. That’s how things worked in Mongolia for thousands of years, and no one was about to change it. Why would you? What’s the point? That was the people’s way, and people liked it. Just sit around the fire, eat a hot meal of meat and drink some kumis, and talk. Speak of your problems and listen to theirs. Soon, your problems would melt away, giving the room to the dreamy existence of the steppes. After all, life was not that bad. Just a little turmoil here and there. That’s all. Whatever problems they may have, they could deal with it, and people always understood and helped. Was that a tribal thing? It could very well be. Join the tribe and find out.

The most significant component of the country was the desert-like prairie or the steppes with somewhat limited natural fresh water resources in most areas. That was one of the reasons why the Mongols were Nomads for thousands of years. They would stay in one place only for as long as the area could support them and their animals. When the game, fish, grass, water, and the trees went down to a dangerous level, they would move on. There always were places left alone for long enough to regenerate the natural resources, and every tribe protected its own territory. That was the self-preservation technique employed ever since the beginning. One had to know precisely where the water wells and the grass were before starting an adventure. Every tribe had a guide whose job was to lead. The professional guides were driving the caravans through the Silk Road and the Mongolian steppes often because of that knowledge. They knew the places and understood the clues better than anyone else. Agreements between the tribes and regulations were followed religiously if one wanted to survive the trade and not to be traded for survival. Death and often violent were not strangers in the Mongolian steppes, and the punishments for violations were always severe. That was the lesson to the others as well. The local customs had to be obeyed with no questions asked. Yet, questions were often asked, and that usually led to the armed conflicts. Thus, many had died when that happened.

Environment, hardship, nature, armed conflicts, climate, and the self-preservation controlled the average age of survival, automatically limiting the levels of the population. Before the urbanization, the average age was higher than after, and population grows was just 1.43%. The policies of the former Communist regime promoted the rapid urbanization and the industrial growth throughout the country that had extremely adverse effects on the environment. Things were changing too fast for the Mongols to adopt and the society suffered. Burning of soft coal in multiple power plants and the lack of environmental regulations (while in place) enforcement severely polluted the air in Ulaanbaatar and other cities. Deforestation, overgrazing, water overuse, and the converting of virgin land to agricultural production had increased the soil erosion from often winds and rain. The Mongolian steppes were chocking lacking fresh air and water. And, the desertification and mining activities had a deleterious effect on the environment; thus, quality of life in the cities and the steppes. Mongolia was changing its face and the attractiveness for the Mongols rapidly. Tough was becoming tougher and fast. Many were immigrating, and even more, were planning to do so.

Present Mongolia consisted of twenty-one aymguud (provinces) and one hot (municipality). They are Arhangay, Bayanhongor, Bayan-Olgiy, Bulgan, Darhan Uul, Dornod, Dornogovi, Dundgovi, Dzavhan, Govi-Altay, Govi-Sumber, Hentiy, Hovd, Hovsgol, Omnogovi, Orhon, Ovorhangay, Selenge, Suhbaatar, Tov, Ulaanbaatar (municipality), Uvs. The flag is three equal, vertical bands of red (hoist side), blue, and red. Centered on the hoist-side red band in yellow is the national emblem — “soyombo” (a columnar arrangement of abstract and geometric representation for fire, sun, moon, earth, water, and the yin-yang symbol). The population of Mongolia is about 2.2 million people, with about 60% living in towns and cities. And the towns mostly look like the Soviet era poorly ran developments, and one must see it to appreciate the statement. Even though it’s a small country with minimal resources, they improve the leftover Soviet horror with speed often matching the desire.

Soon, the Mongolian identity would be fully restored throughout the country. Even though the Mongols may keep a few ugly things just to remind how great it was in the Socialist camp and Socialism should never be again. The Soviet Union was the biggest Union of them all, and one could still see it here and there. After being forced to unite for so long, everyone was enjoying the liberation much even if they were still poor. The real Mongolian identity is not there yet, but the entire country was working very hard to establish it. The small beginnings of it could be seen already here and there, mostly there, but its growing, spreading out. The whole country and the whole people were experiencing pains of being born and growing again. It was not easy, but the Mongols wanted to ascertain their lives using the experiences and the traditions of the ancestors multiplied by the coefficient of the present and modern practices. They may still have the know-how, even if only on the genetic levels. Genes were such a powerful device. In short, Mongols wanted to be Mongols. That is why they wanted freedom and fought for it unselfishly. Do they have to be as the rest of the world? Maybe all you should be is yourself. That could be the best, but then, we do not really know.

This little country was permanently squeezed between the mighty power of Russia and the overpopulated power of China. There was a time when small Mongolia ruled both, but that time was gone. Russia and China went through some ups and downs and came out as even greater powers than before. And, Mongolia came out of centuries of fighting and dictating the world as a little country squeezed between the mighty powers. For five hundred years, they ruled half of the known world, and now, they had problems governing even themselves. What a sad story for Mongolia and the Mongols, and what a glorious tale for Russia and China. The giant prevailed again. Bleeding profusely, they won in the end. What was left for Mongolia after the centuries of dividing? No significant waterways were leading in or out of Mongolia. Mongols did not enjoy access to the sea or the ocean ports. They could not move freely around the world or even to the neighboring countries. There only was and continued to be the Silk Road and the still booming economy along its way. Why is the Silk Road? Why it has been so permanently attached to the Mongols, and still is so vital for the economy of Mongolia?

The region unraveling China and the Indochina from Europe and Western Asia was not the friendliest and the most hospitable territory in the world. Much of it was permanently claimed up by the Taklimakan desert. That is a vast region of the sand desert that stretches out over several hundred thousand square miles sitting in the depression between two high, rugged mountain ranges in the Xinjiang Region of Northwest China. The Taklimakan desert is one of the most hostile environments on our planet, and we have a few. There was very little, almost non-existent, vegetation there and virtually no rainfall. A few drops a year did not count. It was not a very good place to be. The sandstorms were very common there and have claimed the lives of countless people attempting to travel there over the centuries. The locals have very high respect for this “Land of Death,” and only a few travelers in the past have had anything good to say about it. What good was there? Nothing was there, but sand and more sand. It covers a vast area, through which only a few roads pass. Caravans of traders, warriors, and the dignitaries throughout history preferred to skirt its edges, from one remote oasis to the next.

The climate there was harsh and very dry. In the summer, the daytime temperatures were in the 40’s C. Temperatures greater than 50 degrees Centigrade often measured in the sub-sea leveled basin of Turfan (the landmark Buddhist center before being converted to Islam in the 8th century). In winter, the temperatures dip below -20 degrees Centigrade and are accompanied by the all-penetrating mighty wind. The wind is strong, continuous, and full of power. Desert-like temperatures soar in the sun but drop very rapidly at dusk. The shift in temperatures is quite noticeable and very demanding, and one cannot hide from it. The sandstorms there are very common, and particularly dangerous due to the lengths of storms, the strength of the winds, and the nature of the surface. The surface is rock, clay, and more sand that offers very little protection. It is hard to hide from the sand storm, and breathing presents an issue due to the strongest wind filled with the sand. Unlike the Gobi Desert, where there were a relatively large number of oases and water could be found not too far below the surface, the Taklimakan has much sparser resources and less hospitable accommodations. If you did not know precisely where to look for water, you might never find it. It was not really hiding it; it just did not have it.

The land adjacent to the Taklimakan Desert was equally daunting. To the northeast of the Taklimakan, lies the Gobi Desert, almost as unforgiving in climate and the conditions as the Taklimakan itself and, on the remaining three sides of the Taklimakan, lay some of the highest mountains in the world. To the South of the desert were the Himalaya, Karakorum, and the Kunlun ranges providing an effective barrier separating Central Asia from the Indian sub-continent. That’s what affects mostly the weather conditions in the region. If not for those mountains and their height, it could be a paradise. Only a few known icy passes cross these mountain ranges, and they are some of the most difficult in the world to overtake, but so desired. These passes typically are to be found over 5000 meters in altitude and are dangerously narrow and slippery, with precipitous drops into deep ravines. To the north and the west, one will find the Tian Shan, and Pamir mountain ranges. Though greener and not as high, the passes crossing these natural barriers have still provided more than enough problems for the adventurous travelers of the past. Lives were challenged, and lives were lost yet, many were still trying. For some, it was a matter of survival, a question of life, and for the others, it was just a game. The least difficult entry to this vicinity is from the east along the “Gansu Corridor,” a relatively fertile strip of land running along the base of the Qilian Mountains. This corridor is separating the great Mongolian plateau and the Gobi from the Tibetan High Plateau. It’s a hard rout, but it could be managed with fewer demands than the others. The others mostly could not be managed at all. If one comes from the west or the south, the only way in is over the dangerous and most difficult passes. It was a tough place to visit, and it was not much easier to leave.

The region, for centuries, was controlled by the Chinese Empire on the East and by the Persian Empire on the West. In 330 B.C., Alexander the Great of Macedonia finally conquered and occupied the Iranian Empire and the surrounding territories. He colonized this region superimposing the culture of the Greeks of the time on the Asians. Did it work? Some say yes and very much so. Although he ruled the area only until 325 B.C., the effect of the Greek invasion was quite considerable. The Greek language was brought to the region and somewhat enforced. Greek mythology and customs were introduced and widely accepted. The aesthetics of Greek art were merged with the ideas coming from the Indian kingdoms. Thus, a separate and quite notable local school of art emerged. The new culture was in the making. By the third century B.C., the area had already become the crossroads of Asia, where best of the Persian, Indian, and the Greek ideas met and quickly flourished. It is believed by many, but not proven yet, that residents of the Hunza valley in the Karakorum district were the direct descendants of the army of Alexander. It very well may be. It also may apply to some other areas as well. Have you seen the blue and the grey eyes of so many? Have you seen the facial features of men and women there? Yes, the Greeks could make a considerable deposit to the bloodline of these people, and most likely they did. Who can really tell what happened, when, and where? Still, so many things did happen. The Karakorum Highway on its long journey from Pakistan over to Kashgar now trails this valley, and it clearly indicates how close to the Taklimakan Alexander may have gotten. He could’ve been right in the midst of it. We know that he was leaving the Greek garrisons along the way, and they stayed there for years. Alexander did come to this neighborhood, left a deep impression on people residing there, and that’s a historical fact. We do not argue that at all? We just do not know the real depth of that impression. It could be even more profound than we ever thought. Alexander the Great and the Greeks were remembered there as the ancestors, who modified, if not created, the agriculture, architecture, art, and most of the modern crafts. It is known that art in this region was minimal before Alexander’s exploits. It was not developed to any artistic degree yet. Back then, even the Buddhist Gods had not attributed the human characters and the human features yet. Their faces were not human; however, not divine already. They were still the pure gods that could not be understood at all. Only the human characteristics of the Gods could provide some insides. Buddha did not have the face or the body until then, and he was present everywhere being everything at the same time. Some statues of Buddha we see now may bear a great resemblance with Hercules, Achilles, and/or Alexander of Macedonia, or any other Greek of that time. That was very likely because, in sculptures, Buddha looks more European than Asian. And, his clothes… Look at it closely. Is he wearing the Greek toga? Was Alexander the Buddha God for the locals? He very well could be. He was powerful enough, and the imagination could add the rest. War or no war, invaders or not, they were full of imagination. Get closer, closer, and look at the statue again. Put your glasses on. What do you see? The curly hair, the straight Greek nose, the toga-like clothes — Buddha does not really look like a Hindu or anyone living down the Silk Road. He is not a Hindu or a Chinese, or a Mongol. Buddha was not like so many people in Central Asia. Then, did he really come from there? No, Buddha was not from anywhere here. He looks more European or, let us say, Greek. The philosophy attributed to him was not purely Hindu. Was all that the most profound impression, the understanding, of the Greeks?

This ancient “crossroads” region, covering the area to the south of the Hindu Kush and Karakorum ranges, now Pakistan and Afghanistan, was overrun time and time again by many different tribes, armies, and peoples. After the Greeks, the tribes from Palmyra, in Syria and then Parthia to the east of the Mediterranean, fought overtaking the region as a price. Fighting and wars were the way of life back then, but is it much better now. These people were less sophisticated than the Greeks, but as demanding, if not more. And, nonetheless, they adopted the Greek culture, language, and the coin system in this province introducing their own limited but strong influences in the fields of architecture, sculpture, crafts, and art. The novel mixed culture was born in pain of bloody conflicts, and it was flourishing fast.

Close (what is a few hundred years for the history of the ancient land) on the heels of the Parthians, came the Yuezhi people from the Northern borders of the Taklimakan. The Yuezhi had been driven from their traditional home on the North by the powerful Xiongnu tribe. The Xiongnu tribe was later known as the Huns that finally ignored the Yuezhi and the other local attractions and shifted their attention towards Europe and then, settling in Northern India. Their colorful descendants became the Kushan people, and in the first century A.D., they moved into this crossroads area, bringing their adopted Buddhist religion with them. Like the other numerous tribes before them, the Kushan people espoused much of the Greek system that resided in the region already and soon, were absorbed by the neighborhood melting pot. Oh, the melting pot was going strong often, boiling over. The product of this marriage of such different cultures was the Gandhara society situated in what is now known as the Peshawar region of Northwest Pakistan. This fused Greek and the Buddhist art into a unique form of the heavily Germanized Buddhism that was in some cases, more Greek than Buddhism. The more one studies Buddhism, the more one can see the roots and the similarities. And, the Greek culture was older and more forceful or influential. It was well established and mature when Buddhism was just a baby. The Kushan people were the first to show Buddha in the human form building monasteries with statues and monuments of Buddha. Before this time, the Buddhist artists had preferred symbols such as the footprints Stupas. The Buddhist monuments traditionally containing relics of Buddha or the tree of enlightenment. It was done either out of the sense of sacrilege or merely to avoid the persecution (that existed at the time and still exist even now), or it could be the lack of artistic skills, imagination, and/or the concepts. Art without ideas is only a craft. In short, Buddha was not a person before the Greeks arrived and changed the mental landscape of the locals. Still, the Greek influence was so strong that the change started to happen relatively fast. Buddha was humanized within just a few years after the Greek invasion, and maybe that was the real reason for the new religion to become popular and spread out that fast.

The eastern end of the Silk Road developed somewhat slower than the western end of it due to the turbulence created by the warring tribes and the states trying to gain a new foothold in the region or to protect the existing one. In China of the time, the “Warring States” period was brought to an end by the powerful Qin state, which unified China and formed, under the ruthless warlord Qin Shi Huangdi the Qin Dynasty. The harsh reforms forcefully introduced to bring the conflicting individual states together may seem too brutal now. Yet, they worked, and some say well. The unification of the language and culture and standardization of the administrative system had long-lasting positive effects. The forced reforms (some are still employed even now) had produced the desired results and often, above the expectation. The newly shaped country was booming rapidly, becoming an empire. The capital of the newly unified state was set up in Changan, which quickly developed into a large city, known presently as Xian. A new age of prospering (the level that had not been seen before) descended on China, and China was ready to protect it fiercely. The Chinese Wall was and still attesting to that. The wall was needed to protect the land from the uninvited, illegal, and often aggressive aliens that streamed in individually and in caravans. The physical barrier was the only logical answer. All those people wanted to take part in prosperity, and not too many sought to offer loyalty. Loyalty raised a big question. The wall was the only alternative left after diplomacy failed time and time again. These were not the refugees one would like to help, but the flag carrying invaders one would want to avoid.

The overpopulated and extremely aggressive Xiongnu tribe had frequently been invading the northern borders of China and especially, during the “Warring States” period. That was a long period of instability and endless tragedy. The simple peasants suffered from both sides almost equally being squeezed beyond the limit. Xiongnu existed to fight and fought to exist. They did not produce anything valuable and lived only at the expense of the others. The bloodshed did not amount to much and did not pay if the gain was on the other end of the spear. Xiongnu preferred rape, pillage, and murder to agriculture, art, and crafts. That was not in their blood. For them, war often was the favored state of affairs. So, they killed for profit, and they were ready to die if luck was on the other side. That happened too. The Mastery of Martial Arts was a better provider for them than the Mastery of Agriculture and the crafts for the others. The killing was a well-paying craft for them. Xiongnu came, saw, and conquered, and all the neighbors had either to accept it or to fight back and even more fiercely than the Xiongnu. Considering the opposition, that was not easy at all. Xiongnu was very good at fighting. And, history teaches us that Xiongnu won more often than lost. That was a tough period for the region and its people. Wars always brought famine and famine had brought sicknesses and epidemics. With the help of Xiongnu, society and civilization were not moving forward, but sideways at best.

The frequency of these attacks and the raw savagery of it were rapidly increasing, forcing the fragile Chinese government to find a more permanent solution to the defense issues. The more modern military and much better fortifications were needed, and fast. The northern states had been trying to counteract the attacks by building the defensive border walls that were more like single fortifications spread out over a long distance. Those walls had to hinder the overgrowing invaders and to warn of their approach well in advance. That often helped, and many attacks were diverted and even prevented. The Xiongnu preferred not to fight and often to go back if the greater force was on the other side. Now, due to the walls, it was possible to assemble and deploy where it was needed. The early warning system that incorporated many types of signals and human intelligence allowed to master a superior force to combat the invaders quickly and move it around. Under the Qin Dynasty, in an attempt to subdue the constantly warring Xiongnu tribe a drive to join the previously built sections of the protective wall was successfully initiated. The “Great Wall” of China, at the immense expense to the Chinese people, was born as the result of this campaign. When the Qin Dynasty collapsed in 206 B.C., after only 15 years of ruling, the unity of China was preserved by the Western Han Dynasty, which continued to build up the Wall. Wall held it all together. Possibly, that saved China as a country.

In the constant struggle for survival in Central Asia, many alliances were sought, forged, broken, fought out, and paid for. Friendships and betrayals were on everyday agenda of all tribes, ethnic groups, and nations. Huge territories were conquered, pillaged, liberated, and conquered again. The trickles of blood often became streams and even rivers. The entire tribes perished being killed, driven away or enslaved. Who could count them all if we often do not know who was there in the first place? All we have is a few pieces of the puzzle, and we don’t even know how that puzzle supposed to look like. The history was full of empty holes that did not offer any information or even a slight knowledge that could be used to build on. All we know for sure that death was visiting this region as often as the sandstorms and it was staying longer. And, regardless of the odds, life continued along the Silk Road, prospering. People were born there, grew up, did something that maybe even now is still there, and passed away, leaving the Silk Road to the next generation. It was the main artery linking India, Persia, and China, and feeding both ends. It lasted for thousands of years and was not about to roll over and die because of some new hardship. The road and the people of the road were strong and healthy, and they saw so much hardship before. The Silk Road, that’s where life pulsated reflecting developments in all countries and in every tribe along the way.

In the West, the mighty Greek Empire was taken over by even more powerful Roman Empire. That changed the requirements and the type of commodities influencing the trade under the new people. Metals, gold, precious and semi-precious stones, jade, onyx, bronze objects, rare wood, porcelain, ceramics, tea, spices, and fabrics were continually moving to the east and to the west. The artifacts, delicacies, exotic animals, slaves, traveling craftsmen, adventurers, and mercenaries regularly went in one direction or another. Oils, wine, carpets, glass, fur, leather, lacquer, iron, medicine, drugs, chemicals, smelling essences, ivory, out of the ordinary plants and the silk moved cautiously in all directions. And, soldiers jealously guarded its progress. Many of these goods were bartered for others along the way, and objects often changed hands several times. The trade moved along, and money was made.

Many objects were used as raw materials that were modified and altered, often adding value. The value in different forms frequently was added even before the caravan was on its way again. Traders knew their markets ready to meet the demands without wasting too much time and expenses. The business was bumming, and many people depended on its success. There were no records of Roman traders being seen in Changan, nor Chinese merchants in Rome. Still, their goods were appreciated and available in both places. Even if the people did not go that far, the goods did. The goods did not know borders. This obviously would have been in the interests of the Parthians and other middlemen making a living in trading and around the Silk Road taking as large a profit from the change of hands as they could. They risked, and they profited, and they risked more, and they profited more, but so many died. Violence and money often went together, as partners. This trade and the up keeping of the road were very demanding on the lives of people involved, many lives. Caravans from the entire known world slowly moved, step-by-step, toward the destination. If camels and horses could survive this road and this place, people could survive it too. Trade was an honorable profession. And, thousands went on pushing farther and farther, succeeding more often than not. Many lived to tell the tale, and some even wrote books. That was the history of the place that is still active even now.

It would be wrong to say that the Silk Road was just one nicely built and well-developed route. No, not at all. No single path ever existed. Different branches of the same road grew out, extended, branched, flourished and died over time to service all oasis realms of this vast region. If we could look at the Silk Road at its peak and from the modern passing satellite, we would see it as a tree with dozens of branches stretching out to all different regions of Asia, and Europe. Then, there were the waterways that took it to Africa that was a popular destination as well. It always functioned as a living organism continually adjusting to the surrounding. The routes all started from the capital of China in Changan, headed up the Gansu corridor and reached Dunhuang on the edge of the Taklimakan. The northern route then passed through Yumen Guan (Jade Gate Pass) and crossed the neck of the Gobi Desert to Hami (Kumul) before following the Tian Shan Mountains in the northern fringes of the Taklimakan Desert. Then, it passed through the major oases of Turfan and Kuqa before arriving at Kashgar at the foot of Pamir. The southern route branched off at Dunhuang passing through the Yang Guan and skirting the southern edges of the desert via Miran, Hetian (Khotan), and Shache (Yarkand). Finally, it turned north, meeting the other branch at Kashgar. Limitless smaller routes were also used but to a lesser extent. One of them branched off from the southern road and headed through the Eastern end of the Taklimakan Desert to the city of Loulan before joining the Northern course at Korla. Kashgar became the new crossroads of Asia, and it remained as is for generations. From Kashgar, the paths again divided heading across the Pamir Mountains to Samarkand and Bukhara (present Uzbekistan) and to the South of the Caspian Sea over the Karakorum into India and Tibet. An additional route split from the Northern route after Kuqa and headed across the Tian Shan range to the shores of the Caspian Sea via Tashkent, Uzbekistan. This was the spider web of the roads commonly called “The Silk Road,” and many parts of it are still, even today, the main road arteries when traveling there. Even if some parts of the road and the branches of it were not there any longer, people’s mind was still the same. They were the people, the nation, of the Silk Road.

The Silk Road was developing so fast and so actively that it started to attract more traders, travelers, and bandits as a feeder full of bird seeds would attract the birds. Profits to be made were so huge that numerous adventurers, good with the sword and a bow, joined the ranks of the bandits and the guards often, at the same time. Bandits from Tibet, China, Persia, India and all smaller tribes and nations in the small and bulky bands hid along the road using the steep terrain as the cover, ambushing the weaker caravans. The traders were forced to add to the expense by establishing the private armies of mercenaries to defend the convoys. Soon, it became a must. China and the other states in the area had to build some fortifications staffed with soldiers and supplies within a day of the caravan travel to better protect the travelers. Many forts were later joint by the wall, and many are still seen even now.

Caravans could spend now night or a few days within the vicinity of the fort offering some safety. Soon, well-populated settlements began to mushroom around the forts. These settlements provided rest (“caravan-saray” — the resting place for caravans), needed services, medical assistance, supplies, water, food, comfort, slaves, and the trade. Goods could be sold, and goods could be purchased there, and at a reasonable price. Many traders quickly understood that there was no need to travel the entire length of the road. They could make less money, but much quicker, and with fewer risks. All they had to do was just to make the part of the journey, sell the goods, and head back for more. The other trader would take it farther down the road selling it along the way. Actually, goods now moved faster and with a smaller amount of losses. Traders were meeting each other at predetermined places and at a specific time. The business was brisk. Time was not wasted, and the expenses were saved. Profits increased, and the demand for everything stabilized and widened. Goods were ordered in advance improving chances of the sale. This was becoming a new trend in the business nurturing and feeding the road even better than before. The people of the Silk Road were quite receptive to the change, and it took to the new heights permanently changing the surrounding area and the inhabitants of Central Asia. The Silk Road, like a living organism, was dictating the trends.

After the strong-arm rule of the Western Han dynasty passed, the successive regimes slowly brought more states under Chinese control. Settlements along the Silk Road came and went changing the hands of the owners and the occupants or frequently losing importance due to a change in the routes or the demands on the goods and services. Some settlements disappeared because of violent attacks by the bandits, foreign armies, and sometimes the mercenaries on their own service. Unfortunately, that happened way too often not to leave the scars. The Chinese, situated on the edge of the Lop-nor-Lake, garrison town of Loulan, for example, was substantial up to the third century A.D. Then, it was abandoned when the Chinese lost control of the route for a considerable time. Many settlements were buried by the sands of the Taklimakan Desert during the times of abandonment and could not be repopulated without significant difficulties and cost even if the need aroused. These settlements always reflected the nature of the trade passing through the region and the services the community could provide. Silk, on its way to the West, often got no farther than this region of Central Asia. It was needed there as well. Demand for the goods offered by the Silk Road was so high in the whole of Asia that only the unsold leftovers could make its way to the West. West wanted more of almost everything, but West had to earn the position of respect and the power with the East. West had to learn yet how to trade with the East, and that required some skills. Also, the West could not offer too many goods desired by the East, and trade was hanging in misbalance. West needed more time to become interesting for the East as the full trade partner. Back then, West was more a destination for sale and much less for the purchase. The dark ages left a deep impression on everything in Europe, including craft and art development. It took time, but things started to turn around in thirteen and fourteen centuries.

The most significant commodity carried and distributed along this route was not silk, but religion. Buddhism came to China from India this way, along with the northern branch of the Silk Road. The first influence of Buddhism came together with an exploration of passes over the Karakorum. The Eastern Han Emperor Mingdi had sent a trusted representative to India to discover more about this strange faith spreading out in his empire with such a speed. The later missions returned from India bearing scriptures and the priests. This opened the gates for the new religion and culture associated with it, little, if at all, known in this region or many others before. It was something very new but getting definitely interesting. Buddhist art, crafts, customs, and people started to move freely throughout Eastern and Central Asia, spreading the philosophy farther and farther. Many became attracted to it and relatively fast. Religious grottoes were explored and then, slowly replaced by scores of monasteries with monks developing and promoting the new culture. It was not just a new wave, new ideas, but a new well-developed culture. Due to gentleness, patience, and non-invasive manner, this religion conquered people of this citizenry thoroughly and in the shortest time. Peace, kindness, and patience were a great alternative to danger, harm, and wars. Buddhism gave the roots there and then and still is almost as strong as it was thousands of years ago. This phenomenon influences nearly all, if not all, aspects of life in Eastern and Central Asia, short of Islam influenced regions.

The Judaism arrived in full force only in the seventh century A.D. after being pushed out from the Middle East by very aggressive Islam. Yet, some believe, and archeology demonstrates that Judaism was there already and for hundreds of years. The first hundred years after being born, Islam had marked by the streams of blood of innocents resisting to forced conversion. Yes, the quick expansion of Islam was attributed to forced conversion almost everywhere. People did not want to accept it willingly, and that should tell us something about the peaceful religion. More blood of millions upon millions was spilled over the years in the name of God Allah and his prophet Mohamad than in the name of any other God. It seems that Allah and Mohamad were so thirsty for blood that they wanted it all at once. Patience was not a virtue when it came to the religion of Islam and especially, conversion. Even the Christians in all their zealotry to the conversion of non-Christians from other faiths to the one they believed in, could not get close in the body count. And Christians tried. They tried so hard that even killing of their own people by inquisition was justified as the saintly deed. The saintly deed? Still, Muslims took the price time and time again. The number of lives of the innocents killed in the religion-fueled atrocities is uncountable, and Muslims lead the way. They killed and killed and killed, and they still are.

Arabs, Tatars, Mongols, Moors, Turks — almost fifteen hundred years of the continuous merciless rape, pillage, slavery, and murder. Victimization of the Europeans, Africans and the Asians throughout the three continents left so many unhealing scars that the world may never recover. The entire regions were converted to Islam and raped to the point of extinguishing all local racial characteristics. The entire cultures were wiped out and replaced by a form of Islam. It was too painful even to count and to count what. The side effects of cancer called Islam are still affecting our societies in the form of terrorism, sheer aggressiveness, refusal of education, and a very little desire for peaceful coexistence with the rest of the world. Just look around. Islam proved to be not a friend to anyone and most of all to itself. The war of the worlds started in the sixth century is still going on, as before, and is never over.

The Judaism came over to the Eastern and Central Asia in the form of a powerful tribe of Jews retreating in a complete order from the steadily increasing pressure from the wild but fast-growing Islam. There was no chance for coexistence between the peace-loving agricultural Hebrews and very aggressive murdering and thieving nomad Arabs. The Muslims zealously enforced policy was: convert — live or die. There was no other option, middle ground. And, even if you convert, nothing was guaranteed. Not too many Jews converted though, and many died. The relatively small tribe of Hebrews fought bravely, but the sheer numbers of Arabs made the decision for the weaker tribes. They had to leave the lands they occupied for at least five hundred years and move to the unknown land; the land of the Eastern and Central Asia. That was a mystery land but did they have a choice. What choice — to convert and not to die or to die anyway, no matter what. So, they decide to move on, and Islam was following them step by step.

The unexpected luck provided the Hebrews with a break. Arabs, entangled in own problems, were too slow to trail the Jews that far. Even more, the aggressive Arabs were met with aggression stronger than their own. Was it even possible? Not in where the Arabs came from. No one was that strong and so aggressive where they came from. The Muslims were not ready for that. However, the Asian tribes of the mountain passes met the militant Muslims with the sword and the arrow. Arabs were not welcomed. These passes were hard to pass at any time, but fighting was almost impossible. The fight was incessant and bloody, and Arabs were not allowed to move to the valleys of the East. The Hebrews, on the other hand, were friendly and not threatening. They were tired, hungry, bleeding, and full of wounds and tragic stories. They were suffering and looked more like the long-lost cousins than the aggressors. People of suffering were always welcome by the people that knew what suffering was. Compassion worked its charm, and the hand of friendship was extended. The Hebrews were let in. The kingdom of Khazars was in the making.

In force, Islam came much later, in about two hundred years, in the nine century and it was not done by the sword. Arabs learned the old lessons and came in peace as traders. Trade came first, and that was the attraction. Merchants from the faraway lands were welcome just about everywhere. That was a noble occupation. Religion came second, and the Muslim kingdoms came third. Harezm (present Uzbekistan) was the biggest and the richest one with Samarkand and Buchara as the separate, but powerful city-states. Turkmens, Tajiks, Uzbeks, Azeri, Hebrews, Kalmycks, Bashkirs, and many other tribes, the leftovers of the Persian Empire, presented the perfect ethnic mix there.

The conditions were faultless to produce great thinkers, writers, artists, scientists, doctors, statesmen, warriors, craftsmen, and traders. They were celebrated and often financially supported by the powers in charge. For hundreds of years, while Europe was still enveloped by the dark ages, often getting even darker, this was the cultural center of the world, and it was booming. Links between Baghdad, Damascus, Samarkand, Buchara, Fergana, and some other places in Central Asia became so crucial that the Silk Road incorporated them as a permanent branch. At times, more people traveled there than in any other direction. Interesting to say that for so many years there was such a peaceful coexistence of Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and the Pagans. There was a balance that no one dared to upset. That was the time of peace. Everyone was happy that way, for so many years. And, Christianity had never made its way in until hundreds of years later as in the wake of the Mongol invasion stirring communities, and the cultures up, moving people, tribes, and the entire nations from land to land. These were newcomers with new ideas, customs, and new laws. East was affecting the West, and the West was affecting the East even more. The Christian slaves from Russia, Eastern, and Western Europe were the most essential Christian influence in the Eastern and Central Asia at the time. They were the biggest and the unending link to the other very little-known side of the world. East did not know West and West did not know East, yet they were moving toward each other. It was a slow process, yet it was progressing. East was meeting West not in the middle of the road but in the middle of the West.

The Buddhist faith, being well nourished and quite protected in the region, gave birth to many different sects, also well received in Central Asia. That was the widespread movement of mystery, peace, love, and the fairytales that little educated citizens of Central Asia really enjoyed. It was something to dream of. That gave them the sense of something really good being just around the corner and coming for you soon. After all, this was the leading religion of the continent. Of these, the “Pure Land” and the “Chan” (also known as Zen) sects were particularly strong and welcomed and even beyond China. They are both still flourishing in India, Indo-China, Japan, Europe, and America. Concepts of peace, love, and earth were so appealing to people with all kinds of background that foundation for religion became stronger surviving the turmoil of age, sex, station in life, distance, hardship, and hate. Wars and injustice scarred it, making even stronger and more acceptable by those who yearned love and peace. Love and peace were more desirable than war and hate too many people. Is not it true even now? Primitivism and the huge holes in the theory were not crucial for the average human trying to hide from his share of the daily problems. After all, life was not easy for anyone and at any time. Who could understand the holes in the theory if you could hardly understand the argument itself? It was so soothing, and that was most important. Buddhism, its philosophy, branches, and the gentleness of approach were well suited for scores of people, so it flourished and spread out.

Christianity also made an early, but a somewhat limited appearance on the scene, yet it was not the Roman Church. The Nestorian sect was outlawed in Europe by the Roman Church in 432 A.D., and its followers were driven eastwards. One could stay but had to give up the principles, and many did not like that. Many would rather die than to give up the beliefs, and many did. Nestorians had some fundamental disagreements with the ruling church doctrine giving more powers to men and limiting the importance of God. The Roman Church could not accept it without fighting, and the Nestorians lost. The Nestorians had to go and rather fast. They were few and with no money or power to speak of. What chance did they have fighting the machine of the organized religion that was supported by the Emperor? It was not clear if the Emperor really understood the difference or cared about, but Constantine was on the other side and how do you fight that. With what? Church of the time trying to survive and to gain the momentum could not allow any cracks in the united front of the teaching. The church was presenting itself as a united front. After all, it was the “True Religion with a True God,” and there could be only one interpretation of that. How else could you handle such complex issues as God, the Bible, Jesus Christ, the Apostles, and the doctrine itself? The theological revolts (there were a few) were put down with brute force not allowing any deviations from the mainstream or the “freethinking.” Even the writings of the opposition were destroyed, burnt to ashes. Who knows for sure what documents were burnt? Was there another Christianity, hidden from us, that we were not allowed to know? The theological deviations were considered the sacrilege by all in the mainstream. After the condemnation of Nestorius, the Patriarch of Constantinople, at the Council of Ephesus (431 AD), and his banishment, his disciples, fleeing for life, spread the “errors of Nestorius” through Asia. It went far and wide. They believed in doing God’s work even if they could be severely punished and even killed. That was the strength of the beliefs. The belief was extremely strong, and to the levels, we probably do not have now. So, they suffered and died but kept going farther and farther. Some documents and facts indicate that they reached China and were allowed to live there and preach Christianity in the Nestorian interpretation. That was the only part of the known world where tolerance was a common virtue. Did they reach any other areas, regions? We do not know for sure but most likely, yet not in numbers. From the religious point of view, the Silk Road culture was as multifaceted as was only possible at the time. Still, there were many different religions and beliefs. Some were easy to understand and embrace, and some were quite difficult to swallow. Many religions were only cults, and some were violent. Yet, tolerance, including religion, was one of the cornerstones of the society thriving there. Everyone who came in peace was welcomed and could live in peace. It was not just the law but the widely accepted belief. “Peace be upon you and all you love and care about.” That’s what was preached there and by many, but not always followed. Still, we know that and respect. This probably was the best part of that society.

Mongols

NOMAD WARRIOR

The final shake-up that occurred along the Silk Road came from a completely different direction. It was not China, India, or the Arabs. It was not Western Europe that was still trying to figure out what the Silk Road was and combat the internal problems. That was not Eastern Europe that was shaking like life in the wind. That was the Nomads, the Mongols. The hordes from the grassland of Mongolia had overrun Asia and then Europe changing everything: people, countries, rulers, cultures, and religions. That was like the major surgery restructuring all civilizations along the road from the Mongolian steppes and to the West. Trade along the route was already adversely affected by the strife rapidly building up between the Christian and the Muslim worlds. Now, came the Mongols introducing the new twist.

The Crusades did not make these relations any better but had brought the Christian world a little nearer Central Asia. But, the unified Muslim armies under Saladin drove them back again and again, defending the realm. Blood was flowing freely on both sides and for a while already. In the Fourth Crusade, the forces of Latin Christianity scored a triumph over their Muslim rivals with the bloody capture of Constantinople (present Istanbul). As a result, Islam suffered a tremendous and excruciating defeat. However, it was not the Christians who finally split the Muslim world but the unknown Mongol hordes from the East. While Europe and Western Asia were torn by religious differences, the Mongols had only a simple framework of spiritual beliefs and that helped them to unite on many levels. And, other Nomads were joining them at will. Religion was the only tradition for them and never a fervent obligation. In their philosophy, Gods served them more than they served gods. That was the prevailing trend among the Nomads. Then, several of the tribes from Turkistan launching the offensives westwards towards Persia and Arabia, came to adopt Islam. As a result, Islam started to spread out far away across Central Asia but had not reached as far as the tribes wandering the vast grasslands of Mongolia and Kazakhstan. The foreign God, Allah, was still unknown to them when they started to see the world ready and ripe for taking. The riches were the attraction and not the religion. It was quite questionable if they even thought about faith. The hordes of the Nomad people from so many tribes, national groups, and even nations, swelled to the wave that could not be stopped if it rolled over the world. The world had to unite first to resist, but it did not even see the problem yet. The world was looking the other way fighting the wasteful crusades and among themselves for better pieces of the pie. Well, pies were not that many around because everyone was concentrating on fighting and not on producing the pies. Often, they were fighting for any piece of the pie, just to be at the table. Brother was killing a brother and son was killing the father and often just for the crumbs of the pie. And, that was a hard piece of the pie no matter how you slice it. Loyalty and the kinship were doubly important, but the riches were.

These nomadic peoples had perfected the arts of swordplay, archery, and the horsemanship. They were tireless in the saddle and could survive on morsels of food and sheer drops of water while on the move. They knew how to kill and how to avoid death from the hand of the enemy. Living at the expense of the others and often serving as mercenaries for anyone who could pay was the preferred way of life for the Mongolian tribes. Martial arts became the most significant part of their existence. They also proved to be innovative managers that thought to improve the “status quo” through better management and economic reforms. That is hard to believe, but it was a fact. With an eye on expanding their sphere of influence, in 1206, they elected a leader, the Great Khan, for the combined forces. His name was Temujin — the Genghis Khan (the Universe ruler). Under the leadership of Genghis Khan, Mongols rapidly proceeded to conquer large regions of Asia and later, Europe. The Empire they carved out enveloped the whole of Central Asia from China to Persia and stretched as far west as the Mediterranean and India. We can find traces of the Mongol warriors and the Mongol Empire almost throughout the entire world known at the time. This Mongol Empire was maintained after the death of Genghis with the western section of the empire divided into three chief lordships falling to various of his descendants as lesser Khans. The eastern part of the Empire was remaining under the rule of the Great Khan, a title which was inherited by Ogedei Khan. Ogedei completed the conquest of China subduing the Song Dynasty in the South of the country and established the Yuan Dynasty.

Ogedei Khan was the third son of Genghis Khan, and he was perfect for maintaining the bloodline of the Great Khan. He was the ruthless Mongolian leader destined to conquer China, making it the most important and one of the largest parts of the Mongolian Empire. And, at the same time, he was the Chinese Emperor caring about China and its interests, and that is where the Mongolian bloodline stopped. Chinese Empire was not the part of the Mongolian Empire any longer, but the Mongolian Empire became a part of the Chinese Empire, and Ogedei Khan ruled it all. He was the Emperor of both empires. It was a controversial situation where Mongols had the upper hand but could not play it because of the Great Khan. The Great Khan wanted to play it differently and who could argue with him but only his own blood. Like always, that’s where the danger lied. Being blood-related was not always good. It could be dangerous if not fatal. Relatives were powerful, and the close relatives could be outright hazardous. All close relations Ogedei Khan removed from himself and the court as far as possible giving them some districts to manage on the semi-autonomous basis. For as long as the close relatives could maintain peace in the kingdom and paid taxes, they were left alone. Some of them even were celebrated as trusted friends. Some were even moved up and rewarded. Peace was promoted and celebrated, but the disobedience or suspicion in plotting a revolt could quickly end up in punishment, death and not only of the violator of the rules but his entire family, friends, and even the slaves. That was quite customary at the time and the place. Well, that was quite customary just about everywhere. A well devised and spread out gossip placed in the right ear could end the lives of dozens of people, maybe solving some problems of the gossiper. That could be the idea. There could be many ideas rolled into one gossip. Many called it diplomacy. Some called it lies. The goal was to start something that should benefit you but stay away from the consequences so, no one would figure out that it was you who started it. You did not want that to come back to you and to hunt you. The longer Emperor lived, the thinner and thinner Genghis’s bloodline was becoming. Fewer and fewer people could claim the direct descend from the Great Khan, and that was the link to the throne. It was not safe. Now, Ogedei Khan could rule safely and forever without possible claims and challenges from the closest relatives. His, Ogedei’s, descendants were destined to rule the greatest empire of the time, the Chinese Empire. In Ogedei’s mind, nothing could change that, not even death. But, it did not last for long. After Ogedei’s death, the blood relatives killed each other faster than ever in the “sharing of inheritance” spree. The Genghis blood rapidly became the deadly curse, the poison. And it worked fast. The Chinese had waited the killing spree out for as long as it was necessary and took the throne over. The throne was safely back. After all, China was for the Chinese, and the Chinese liked it that way. The new dynasty was in the making, but the Mongols had no part in it any longer. They were the outsiders now and had to stay out. Still, they were the most formidable power in the region, and that had to be considered. The Chinese had to be conscious not to provoke the Mongols, and that did not take much, just a little spark could become a tornado of fire. They knew what the Mongols could do if anyone crossed them. They had seen it. So, the vision of loyal friendship was officially maintained until China was strong enough or the Mongols were sufficiently weak to play it differently. That could take time but the time they had.

Out of all Ogedei’s close and far relatives and friends of the Mongolian descent, Batu Khan was the most important one. Well, he definitely became one. He unquestionably stood out in a crowd of shallow but ruthless and ambitious people surrounding the Emperor. Being Genghis Khan’s grandson and Ogedei’s nephew, Batu was one of very few showing the strength of the Great Khan while not being threatening to the others. It was like he gave one hundred percent to anyone he met, and then, you start losing the points. And, so many did, but some managed to stay true. He was friendly to anyone but the ones that went against the Empire. The small squabbles did not trouble him at all. Everyone knew that Batu would rather kill the plotters regardless of who they were than to join the plot. He seemed to be that loyal and not too many questioned that. Was it the loyalty to Ogedei Khan?

Maybe, but everyone was convinced that Batu believed in the Empire and was dedicated to keeping it secure. He thought that the Empire was the most important things for the Mongols and was ready to do whatever it took to upkeep it. That was the survival of the nation and the prosperous future for them all. Batu thought that the revolts and the plots could not accomplish more than a direct discussion among the cousins and uncles would and they always weakened the powers in charge. This was not acceptable by any standard and, therefore, Batu Khan was continually on the side of Ogedei. The power in charge should stay in charge or be removed if there was a cause superior to the Empire. Although he was never hesitant of discussing the issues in question with the court yet, when the decision was reached and finalized, he would support it for one hundred percent. He thought it was only right. Thus, it was his obligation. That’s what the true Mongol should do, and especially, if you were of the royal blood. Small in stature but very strong-willed, he always commanded respect not too many did. Many thought that, if Ogedei Khan died, Batu would become the next Great Khan. That was his destiny. Maybe it was written in the skies, and the holy people supported that notion. They knew he would keep the Empire together, making it even more powerful. Everyone wanted that. That was the Great Khan’s way. The old-timers, the ones that knew and fought with the Great Khan, often joked that, if Genghis Khan lived, he would choose Batu to be the Khan. Some said it was the Kumis talking, but some believed it wholeheartedly. They liked the young man that reminded the old Khan so much but seemed to be more tolerant and more thoughtful somehow. Maybe he was better educated. Genghis was not educated at all and mostly relied on his experiences and natural brightness. Batu had all that and more. He was educated.

The region Batu managed was one of the most prosperous in the realm, and many attributed it to his skills. He was more thoughtful than spontaneous, and that helped. He also had some of the best advisors who liked him and stayed with him. Even the high court was implementing some of his ideas that improved the social, economic, and military standings in the Empire. Still, Ogedei Khan saw no threat in him but the most reliable support and the utmost respect. Batu felt no danger coming from Ogedei either knowing that Ogedei saw no threat from him. He often visited the older uncle seeking advice, the wisdom of Genghis Khan or just enjoying the Khan’s hospitality. There was a real connection, and they enjoyed it. If not for the age difference, they could have been the best of friends, and maybe they were.

In 1235, being only twenty-eight years old, Batu Khan became the commander of the Mongol army of about thirty-five thousand horsemen assigned to the conquest of Europe. It was called the Blue Horde, or the Eastern Army based on the color system of the Mongol Empire. Black was North, blue — East, red was south, white was west, and yellow (or gold) was the center. This color scheme was used in all different forms (flags, symbols, articles of clothes, markings on shields, and as such) throughout the Empire for many reasons and the military was probably the most important one. Europe was the uncharted territory full of the outdated information going all the way back to Attila’s exploits and to the recently arrived merchants from Europe. These were charming and enjoyable people, but completely unreliable. No one knew them, and none could vouch for them. Some of them could’ve been, and maybe were, spies themselves building the disinformation schemes and gathering the information they needed. Some of them worked for the western kings and the knight orders, and even the Pope in Rome. If the Mongols wanted to exploit Europe following the Attila the Khan routs, the European powers wanted to conquer Central Asia doing the same, but in reverse. And, they needed all the help they could get. That was the time of wars, and pillaging was somewhat easier than working for the wealth. Working was not for everyone, and the martial arts paid much better. Everyone needed soldiers, ready to pay whatever it took. Thus, many went into soldiering, and the side was not always relevant. What difference did it make who was right if you got paid and could keep whatever you pillaged?

Many foreign visitors, especially the merchants, just tried to gain the favored status with the Mongols and do some business. So much wealth could be made if one was willing to take the chance. In many cases, if not all, they could not be really trusted when it came to war. Still, Ogedei liked many of the visitors, but Batu Khan preferred the words of his own people. He could trust them better. So, the early general plan was to attack the Bulgars, Slavs of the Volga River basin first and then, the Viking settlements along the major rivers and the Kingdoms in Russia. The Slaves were easy, but the Vikings and the Russian princes could be a small challenge. They could and probably would fight. Not that it looked too hard for the Mongol Hordes but could take time and some resources. Distances, supplies, reinforcements, and the garrisons that had to be left behind had to be considered. Thus, the plan was adjusted for staying in Russia for a few years establishing the rule, planting collaborators, applying taxes, gathering information on Western Europe and building up the strength for future adventures. A base, if not multiple bases, could be required along the way. It was a tall plan that would require all the knowledge and experience they could master. It was not easy but could be done. Possibly it was bigger than anything they experienced before. They needed many people, professionals in all areas of life and China was the place to gather these people.

Ogedei Khan ordered many of the Chinese engineers, doctors, politicians, diplomats, generals, and other experts to join the new Blue Horde. Batu’s chief general and the principal advisor Subutai, Genghis’s closest friend and associate, firmly believed that many of the Russian nobles would betray the own people and join the horde to survive and save their estates. Mongols did not have to do much for that but just to scare them into submission. Tatars, Bulgars, and the Russians would make up for the lack of people in Mongolia. More Nomad tribes would join them when they move from Mongolia toward Russia. Everyone would like to attach himself to that might and get a piece of the action in exchange. Mongols were not many, but whatever they lost in size, they gained in determination. They were giants from that point of view. The mastery in war-making and the strong will made them the most competent leaders and the ferocious fighters. The multitude of tribes on the way to Russia and in Russia itself — that’s where the information and the extra force had to come from, and it did. Subutai again proved to be right. The Russian nobles offered and delivered betrayals faster than they were asked. Often, they were not even asked. Brothers were selling brothers and sons were selling fathers wholesale. Mongols had an easy time conquering that vast expanse of land occupied by what thought to be strong and capable people. Money, food supplies, and the slaves were streaming to the horde with the dependency of a swelled river. Batu Khan was happy, and Ogedei was very happy. The Emperor coffers were bulging with new gold and the goods from the East and the most potent relative, even the trusted one, was far away to present any immediate danger. It was even better than Genghis Khan’s exploits in Asia. Russia was more prominent, the Russians were more, and the Russians had more. Lucky for Mongols, as everywhere else, the Russian nobles were busy fighting each other instead of uniting against the invaders. Lucky for Mongols, the German and the Swedish knights attacked the Russian western and northern frontiers endlessly trying to cut out a fat slice of Russia before the wild Central Asian hordes made it that way. In short, the Mongol plan was full of success. The Blue Horde was swelling along the way while the Russians were getting more and more divided and weaker by the moment.

The success was complete, and the riches were piling up so fast that some of the closest to Batu and Subutai questioned if they should keep moving passing Russia and into the mysterious Western European. That could be too risky. Russia was conquered even before they attacked it. It was not a strong country as they thought it would be. Maybe it was time to build a camp and rest for a while. Perhaps they should not go any farther at all. What else did they need? They were too far from home already, and that could be dangerous. Who knows what was going on at home. At least they should wait for the reinforcements and the supplies to arrive. It was on the way but would take a few more months. They wanted to know the news from home, and that would come with new caravans. They needed to find good scouts, people that look like the people from the west and could speak the languages. Vikings and some Russians could do the job. Maybe some of the western traders could help if Mongols had leverage with those people. They needed more reliable information. That could take time, maybe months and years, but it had to be done. If you wanted to win a big war and keep your holdings strong, you had to do it right.

You had to do it right. You needed a stronghold big enough to support the venture. You required something to lean on when and if needed. And, a permanent camp on the shore of Volga River was the right decision. That was the perfect location from all perspectives. That was the beginning of the Mongol, and later, Turkicized Khanate called the Golden Horde (also known as the Kipchak Khanate or as the Ulus of Jochi) that lasted for about three hundred years while the Mongol rule in Eastern Europe survived for nearly five hundred years. Gradually, they were pushed back to Crimea and then, even that was taken away.

Batu Khan had the power of the bloodline, and the support of the old timers and Ogedei did not see a threat of betrayal in him. All that was positive and quite promising. Thus, Batu was not a competitor but a collaborator and could do no wrong. With a high degree of trust, Batu Khan was let to run his own empire from the River Volga basin and to the west and just pay his tributes to the Emperor of China, Ogedei Khan. Experienced warlords with their best Tumens (a military division of about ten thousand strong introduced to Mongols by the Khazars) had filled up the ranks ready to participate in the biggest invasion in the history. Alexander the Great had similar ambitions but, not the same resources and the same level of sophistication. There was a fifteen hundred years difference in their approach. Batu Khan and his collaborators wanted a piece of Russia, and a slice of Europe and that was so close they could taste it. And it felt so good. Alexander the Great conquered Asia and was called Great for that. Mongols had Asia already, and now, they were after Europe and all the way up to the last sea, the sea the European traders told them about. How did that look like the last sea? Was it really the last one? What was beyond that sea? Nothing… But that was impossible. What about the elephant and the turtle on top of it holding the earth? Where was that? Were they beyond the last sea? How far beyond? The Mongolian plan was a few times bigger and that much more complicated than Alexander’s. That was a very ambitious project and Mongols called from the steppes the militant nomad tribes known as the Tatars to join the ranks increasing the might of and filling the gaps in the Mongol Tumens. The Blue Horde was joined by the minute by more Kalmyks, Kyrgyz, Bashkirs, Uzbek, Tajik, Turkmens, Buryats, Mordvins, Tuvans, Kazakhs, Khazars, and many more bulging to at least a hundred thousand strong. This horde stretched for miles and made so much dust that it looked like the never-ending sandstorm was coming. That was a storm alright only of a different type, the human one. Batu Khan needed more people he could trust, people with the same background, knowledge, and determination. This war would be hard and painful for everyone. Were they coming?

“This is Volga River, my Khan.” Loudly said Subutai stopping his horse right next to Batu Khan. He had that right because he knew the Khan from the time he was just born and was the loyal friend ever since. Also, he was the most senior commander in the Blue Horde and the most trusted advisor to the Khan. No one was closer to the Khan than Subutai. “Russia, with all its riches, is on the other side of the river. They know we are here, but our scouts had not seen an army or any important force gathering anywhere near. I ordered them to ride for two days inland and only then report. They saw nothing but a few villages and the small bands of badly armed soldiers protecting them. It does not mean much, but for sure we can cross the river without being harassed by anyone. It looks like a good beginning. It is quiet so far. Still, I sent a thousand Khazars over two hours ago as a vanguard. We have the secured crossing areas and the beachhead. Give the order to cross. The Kalmyks are ready to go first.”

“Subutai, I like this place, right here. This shore of the river. Right here. I want you to leave a good garrison here and order them to start building a big camp. You know this beautiful golden Yurt you gave me for the birthday of my son? Let them place it in the middle of that camp and call it the Golden Horde. That would be the center of our new empire. Yes, we would call it the Golden Horde, and that is going to be our capital. We would go west, fight our campaigns, and come back here to rest, resupply, and get ready for the next, campaign. Yes, right here. This is a good place that has everything we need. River, green pastures, trees and plenty of room for the ones we have and the ones that will come. Many will come. This is where we can leave the families, the children, and ride forward with the speed of the wind. I can see thousands of horses running free over there, by those hills. I want everything from home come here and things that should go home, go from here. Leave some of the Khazars here to manage it; they are the best. They will do it right. Yes, this is the perfect place. I do not think I’ve seen a better place yet. I like it very much. Do you? We will conquer it all, wherever it took us, but we would come back here and rule. Send the messenger to the Great Khan to tell him where the capital is going to be. Yes, build the Golden Horde as a capital of the Great Empire. We’ll give it the proper name later. Still, ask the Great Khan, my uncle, for advice. He would like it very much. Ask him what he thinks. After all, this is not our empire, but his and we are only the servants. Do we have anything valuable to send him? We should. We took so much already. Find something good to please him. He may like some fur. I know he likes silver better than gold. This is very important. He is a good man but often misjudged and rarely understood. If anything happens to me, always treat him right. Always. He is the Emperor. Support him. Give the order. Let’s go over to Russia.”

Batu slightly touched the horse leading it to the water edge where dozens of horsemen were crossing already establishing a few more beachheads for the main forces. As far as Batu could see, to the left and to the right, the Mongolian troops were crossing the river at leisure. Horsemen, footmen, herds of animals, wagons, camp followers, families, slaves, Mongols, Tatars, Uzbek, Bashkir, Khazars, Azeri, Kyrgyz, Kalmyks, and the rest of Central Asia was on the move toward Russia. That was the force to reckon with. Had anyone seen anything grander than that? Ever? Alexander the Great… Atilla the Khan? No, this was much bigger, and more was coming. Subutai said it was about one hundred thousand people by now. No, it was much more. It could be a hundred thousand fighting men, but what about the rest of the people. And, more was coming every day. It could double in a few months. They were as many as the locust on a hot, dusty day. Could Russia take it? Could any country take it? No king, no state was strong enough even to slow them down. It was the locust, the locust of Asia. Could the Russians resist effectively enough to make the difference, even to be noticed? Yet, the Mongols were ready for anything.

Batu Khan crossed the Volga River basin, sending a part of his force to Bulgaria (settlements of Slavs called Bulgars in central Russia) but most of it went to the Russian Domains. Mongols needed all forces together. The territories were vast, and after the war, they had to be controlled. Soldiers were in demand, and good soldiers were priceless. Military training became an integrated part of everyday life throughout Central Asia. Everyone wanted to be good, so he could apply for a better position. By 1240, Batu Khan captured and burnt down Moscow and Kiev. The other Russian city-fortresses (so-called Kremlins) like Suzdal, Tver, Yaroslavl, Vladimir, and a few more folded down one by one not be able to withstand the pressure of Mongols just by themselves. The United Russian front was talked about, but it never materialized. The Russian nobles, being related, could not stand each other and instead would go against one another. They hated each other more than the Mongols. No significant resistance to the Mongol invasion was ever mastered by the Russian Princes, but some tried. Unfortunately, they did not try hard enough. They could not put aside, even for a short time, the own interests that plugged the relations with the other nobles. Mongols had Russia in their grasp, accomplishing the first part of the mighty plan to conquer Europe. Yet, they did not believe that Western Europe would be as easy as Russia was and kept building up the force. In the following two years, Batu conquered Hungary and Poland, destroying the united armies of knights and invaded Germany. The advance bands of Mongols and the spies had reached as far as the Mediterranean Sea, but they never explored it any farther. Batu’s recall to the Karakorum in 1242 to participate in the election of the Grand Khan was the fact that may have had saved Europe from the violent subjection to the Mongols. Maybe or maybe not. We can only guess. But, we know for sure that, if the Mongols kept moving forward, it would be difficult, if at all possible, to stop them. Only a miracle could stop that locust, and maybe that was the miracle. Batu left for Mongolia, the horde stopped and largely retreated to the Golden Horde, and the invasion had never continued on the same scale again.

There could be a multitude of reasons for that. Many believe that Europe was saved only because Mongols did not really know that there was more beyond the Mediterranean Sea. Batu’s advisors assumed that the European traders were referring to that sea, calling it “The Last Sea.” Did the traders know any better? One does not go beyond the last sea. Why would they? That was not smart and very dangerous. That was reserved for the gods and only gods. Batu was not a god but only a Khan, and he knew it. Mongols were not into the God thing that much. Batu was a man and a soldier, and he liked it that way. The brutal force at the base of his existence exited him more and more. That was him.

The power of life and death made him the god on earth, but he respected the gods in the sky, placing them above all his desires and understanding his own place. He was right where he was supposed to be. And, that suited him quite well. His soldiers should not die crossing the last sea. Why should they? What was there that important? That could be too dangerous even for them. They were his soldiers, his people, and he was responsible for them and their families. He knew his obligations. That what he learned well from his grandfather. They had to conquer the world, first, making the Mongol capital the capital of the world. He wanted to see it while he was still alive and in charge. He was not a god, but he was powerful enough to make it happen.

Subutai strongly advised Batu and Ogedei Khan to keep pushing forward. They had the momentum, and the horror of their approach and the ferociousness preceded them well in advance. That was the advantage they could not give up by stopping or even slowing down. Mongols were the most terrifying thing of the time, not mentioning the violent outbreaks of epidemics. The Black Death was popping up in many places, taking so many lives, destroying the entire towns. The crusades were terrifying as well but considered noble hence, supported. Thus, Subutai thought they were unstoppable, the wrath of Gods. They had to keep moving. He agreed that the sea could not be crossed and therefore, they could not go much forward, but what about the sideways.

He wanted to go up North and the South and see what was there. There should be people, countries, riches, and so ripe for the taking. They heard so many stories and saw the people from many places they had not found yet. All that should be out there, within reach. If they saw the people, there should be the places they came from. Subutai wanted to see the land where the Scandinavians (the Russians) came from and the lands of the European traders visiting the Silk Road. There were so many of them by now. Thus, it was not a fairytale. They did not lie or fantasized. They came from the countries they described. Venice and Florence, Italy — Mongols had not found it yet. They heard of Paris and Rome but where was it. They have not seen it yet, but they had seen the people and the goods from there. So, it should be out there. They could not find many places, but they knew that those places existed. Everything, every little piece of information they gathered supported that. Yes, they had to stay there much longer and go to the North and to the South. They had to see everything. There should be more, much more and then, even more than that.

Ogedei Khan promised to foreign visitors from Europe, time and time again, to visit the esteemed countries of the traders with the first opportunity. Was this the opportunity he mentioned? That was perfect for a visit and more. Mongols wanted to see with their own eyes the strange things the visitors described. The buildings, the ships, the strange foods, the art, and the crafts. They wanted to see the lifestyle of those people and their customs. Yes, they wanted gold, works, and the masterful slaves as well. They also wanted the blond, blue-eyed women and men. Venice and Florence and the other places like that did not have to be conquered and burnt down but befriended. Why kill and destroy something you may like? Capturing and burning was too fatal and reserved for the minor places and the lesser people. The Mongols knew that very well. Venice and Florence could be great allies and the partners in trade and ruling the world. They could be almost as useful as the Khazars were for Genghis Khan. Batu Khan used to dream of this cooperation, and the great empire resulting from it. He thought it could be done and be very beneficial for the Mongol Empire. He was sure the Great Khan would go along with this idea.

The Silk Road could be branched out to Venice and beyond. Why not? It would make a lot of sense. That should be the main rout of the world and the glory of the Mongols. This was the time to explore, and Subutai did not want to wait any longer. Life was too short for waiting. He was getting old and restless and time was not on his side. Still, Subutai had never seen Venice or Italy or the rest of Europe. It was not his destiny. He died (in 1248 at the age of 72) shortly after this campaign.

Batu Khan died (in 1255 at the age of 48) young while preparing additional campaigns to the North and to the South and strengthening his own domain. He wanted to follow Subutai’s advice and go there. On the Volga River shore right where the Bulgars used to live before the Mongols forced them out, he established the domain known as the Kipchak Khanate and the capital city was called Sarai. Some documents claim that, at the peak, at the Golden Age, it was about 600,000 people strong. In Russia, it came to be known as the Golden Horde due to the gorgeous golden color tents in which the Mongolian army camped. Or, was it the very center of the Empire, the center of the Mongolian universe, thus Golden? It was a site: thousands of Mongol and Khazar soldiers, strange appearing hairy small, but powerful horses, wild looking Tatars and the Kalmyks, exotic Chinese and the Kyrgyz, and the slaves from all over the world and beyond. It could be the center of the universe of the time. Was there a more prominent and more alive city at the time? Only the history could judge that, and the history had not offered any serious alternatives. The Golden Horde was probably the most significant force for a few hundred years.

Ulaanbaatar

The economic activities of Mongolia were traditionally based on agriculture, breeding and processing the livestock, and some crafts. It never was an industrial nation, but the Soviets tried to make it and hard. No matter how hard the Soviets tried, the Mongols could never adhere to the factory rules becoming one of the least productive members of the Soviet Bloc. Still, when it came to domesticated animals, Mongols were second to none. They knew it well. That was in their blood. That was the Mongol nature, the way of life. Mongolia also had extensive mineral deposits: copper, coal, molybdenum, tin, tungsten, and gold that accounted for a large part of industrial production. Interesting to know that almost one-third of the GDP disappeared practically overnight in 1990-91 at the time of the dismantlement of the USSR and never came back. That was a sad state of affairs by any standards.

Mongolia was rapidly driven into a deep recession. That was prolonged by the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party’s (MPRP) reluctance to undertake serious economic reforms and become a free market society. Without the Soviet bayonets, the MPRP (in reality, the Mongolian Communist Party) was quickly replaced by the Democratic Union Coalition (DUC). The Democratic Union Coalition (DUC) administration embraced free-market economics, eased price controls, liberalized domestic and international trade and attempted to restructure the banking system and the energy sector. Restructuring of the banking system… Well, they had to create one first, and that was not easy. No one ever had money there, and the banking system was not really needed. But, the free, market society could not exist without one. Major domestic privatization programs were undertaken as well as the fostering of foreign investments through the international tender of the oil distribution company, a leading cashmere company, and the financial institutions.

Reforms were held back by the ex-Communist MPRP opposition and by the political instability brought about through four successive administrations under the DUC. Despite all that, some economic growth picked up again in 1997-99 after stalling in 1996 due to a series of natural disasters and declines in world prices of copper and cashmere. In August and September of 1999, the economy suffered from a temporary Russian ban on exports of oil and oil products and Mongolia remained vulnerable in that sector. Mongolia finally joined the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 1997. At the Consultative Group Meeting held in Ulaanbaatar in June of 1999, the international community pledged help that was over $300 million per year. The MPRP government, elected in July of 2000, was anxious to improve the investment climate. It also had to deal with a heavy burden of external debt that was still mounting. Falling prices for Mongolia’s primary sector exports, widespread opposition to privatization and the adverse effects of weather on agriculture in early 2000, and 2001 had limited the GDP growth. Despite the drought problems in 2002, GDP rose 4.0%, followed by a solid 5.0% increase in 2003. Yet, the first claims under the land privatization law have been marked by many disputes over particular sites. Thus, the economy started to slide down again. The Russian claims that Mongolia owed it $11 Billion from the Soviet times were expressed loudly with every opportunity. If paid, it would choke the Mongolian economy to near death. Any settlement in respect of $11 billion could substantially increase Mongolia’s foreign debt burden that was back-breaking already. This was a problem Mongolia did not know how to deal with yet, something had to be done and fast. But what? Life was getting rather tighter even for the government officials, and there was no light in sight.

2004 spelled another disaster for Mongolia and its leaders. Mongols were leaving towns and cities in mass going back to the steppes and the lifestyle of the ancestors. After all, they were going back. It seemed that half of the country was moving out. Was it that deep in their genes? Still, it was popular and very fashionable. They preferred to lead the simple, lazy but somewhat modernized nomad life to the complex organized city life of the almost industrial nation. They did not want to work in factories and stores. They wanted to ride horses and camels, hunt, and fish and move around freely as the wind. They wanted to feel like the wind. They wanted to be that wind. Well-made tents, portable generators, all-terrain vehicles and the electronics with rechargeable battery packs were the hottest items on sale. The Silk Road started to wake up to the motor caravans from China to Russia carrying contraband of all types: clothes, shoes, crafts, drugs, stolen vehicles, antiques, food, household items, electronics and whatever else market demanded at the lowest possible price. The caravans were bypassing or paying off the law enforcement agents of all countries involved. Life was getting good for everyone who wanted in. One could beat that price only by producing the goods at zero cost or by stealing them, and stealing was much easier to achieve.

Both sides, Russia and China, loved it so much. Chinese were very good at producing the cheapest knock-offs in electronics, consumer goods, clothes, music CD’s, computer hard and software and other popular items. They would “re-engineer” anything. That was while the Russians offered the arms, ammunition, cars stolen from Europe, trainloads of natural resources, food, and the western goods. That was just a perfect arrangement where history was repeating itself. Silk Road was still the Silk Road. The market economy was influencing the movement of goods, and everyone involved was making a living. Even slavery came back (frankly, it never left). Women and children from Russia and Asia were sold and moved to the Middle East, Europe, and Japan.

Islam and the Muslim countries always enjoyed the slavery business, and now, it was really booming. Sex slavery was leading the way. Almost any Muslim with a little money could purchase a white or an Asian woman or a child for personal use, and they often did. But, if one did not want to own too many slaves, the forced prostitutes of the proper age and underage, male and female, were readily available even in the most conservative countries as Saudi Arabia. It was not openly displayed, but one could ask, and it would be delivered. It was even fashionable in many Muslim societies. Western Europe and Latin America were somewhat trailing behind in the usage of the forced prostitution and white slavery, nonetheless, it was still there and quite popular. They could not afford to miss such an opportunity. No one could. Even in the United States and Canada, one could find numerous places offering that service and more. Drugs and drug usage were on the rise. The Russian — Chinese axis and all the associates and the middlemen were happy, making a good leaving. They were stealing the goods and people, moving them around the world. The world did not embrace it but did not resist much either. It was okay, but it was. Many politicians closed their eyes and enjoyed the perks. Was there a good history lesson in it? Maybe it was, but we did we learn anything?

Productivity in Mongolia fell behind and kept falling, not that it ever was high. Plants, factories, and the agricultural cooperatives were closing down for not being economically justified any longer. Were they ever? Goods produced in Mongolia were too few, too expensive and of the inferior quality on top of it. Cost of production in Mongolia was just too high, and the goods were almost useless comparing to the rest of the world. The outside world did not want it, and the Mongols did not want it either. The ancient Mongolian currency — Tugrik — went down to the drain of uncertainty, having no chance to recover any time soon.

Even printing and minting it was more expensive than its worth. There were hard times before, and now, it was getting close to impossible. Repayments to Russia, even the small ones, were driving the economy of Mongolia to the lowest pre-historical level but the Russians demanded more. They wanted Mongolia. And, the Russians could become a real threat if not handled properly. Because most of the former Soviet Bloc countries told Russia to get lost or presented the own bills early in the game, Mongolia was charged for everything and threatened with sanctions if the obligations were not paid. Mongolia depended on so many things from Russia that even a small resistance could break it completely. The situation that spelled disaster was on hand, and it needed immediate attention. But what to do? There was no experience, no precedent to rely on. Mongolia could not pay, and that was it. The future looked very bleak and with no bright light at the end of the tunnel. Oh yeah, it was a tunnel, deep and dark. Help was needed, but where to find it? The government of Mongolia was in disarray.

Mongols never were the leading society of the world, but they gained unprecedented fame and power in the 13th century when under the bloodiest ruler, Genghis Khan, and his followers they built a vast Eurasian empire. They ruled almost entire Asia, and Eastern Europe and influenced many historical developments dramatically. They incited many past expansions and forced the results. They were the movers and shakers of the time. New people, cultures, and countries were the outcomes of it. The new look at the world affected the world. Yet, the effect was not as dramatic in Western Europe as in Central Asia and Russia. Thus, the modern Russians were the heavy mix of the Scandinavians and the Tatars and not, as they were told, the Slavs. Slavs were in the middle of the turmoil early on and then, squeezed out entirely in the perpetual blood-shedding between the Vikings (the Russians) and the Tatars. At least a half of the modern time Russia consists of the tribes (Tartars, Mongols, Kazakhs, Buryats, Tuvans, Bashkirs, Chinese, Uzbeks, Tajiks, Turkmens, Mordvins, Kyrgyz, Karaims, Azeris, etc.) that were a part of the Golden Horde at the time. That mix made the Russians the way they think and act, the Russian history and the Russian culture, as they are.

Who could really say what the wild genes may want and may do? Who could understand the nomad spirit chained by restrictions of the organized society? All that created a wild card character, as the computer professionals call it. It could be too unpredictable and even outright dangerous. Too often the Russians still demonstrate the mentality of the wild, murderous tribes and the Golden Horde. “Want” was the only verb considered. Too often they still act as they rule the world and the world still has to pay them the tribute. Too often they get away with it. Too often they scare us into submission. But, the world in most parts did not agree, and the conflicts create more conflicts with the Russians at the foundation and amid it. Beware of the Russians and the mad dogs!

After Genghis Khan’s death, the empire was divided into several powerful Mongol/Tatar states, but these (because of the different reasons) broke apart in the 14th century. Only the Crimean Horde survived until the 18th century sucking blood from the people in Russia, Ukraine, Belorussia, the Baltic States, and Poland. That was the cancer of the time and the place nothing could cure while no one was strong enough for the surgical approach. The Crimean Horde (The Crimean Khanate) was a mercenary state selling the power of war and death to anyone who could pay and taking the spoils of the war as well. Often, they just took the spoils of the war without providing the power of war and death, the support they were paid for. They could break promises at will. They always won no matter who was the victor on the battlefield. They were known for betrayal and changing sides in the middle of the battle, adding considerably to the collected misery, and the combine hates from everyone around. Did they care? Tatars had no friends at all. Still, no one knew what they would do this time and hoped not to see them on the other side. That is why Tatars were always employed or just paid off. That was a lucrative place to be. And, in the 18th century, when the Russians became bold enough to attack the Crimean Horde, many joint the effort. The citizens of the Crimean Khanate were beaten up and eventually retired to their original steppe’s homelands, and later, came under the Chinese rule. And, Crimea, as a part of Ukraine, became Russian. These were not happy times, and Mongols had to wear the yoke they used to force on the others for centuries. The world remembered that quite well, so help was not coming any time soon. They were alone, and no one was afraid of them any longer.

\In 1921, with the strong Soviet backing, Mongolia revolted against the Chinese and won its independence. The leader of the revolution was Ulaani Baatar, who believed to be a direct descendant of Great Genghis Khan and that supported the prophecy. Only a direct descendant of Great Genghis Khan could lead the people of Mongolia and succeed. Details of his life and the family tree were not clear, but people believed in it, and that was enough to spark a successful uprising. The pro-Soviet Communist regime was installed in Mongolia in 1924 and lasted, with the constant Soviet intervention, for almost seventy years. Yes, the Soviet bayonets and the limited financial support did help. The Soviets were draining the Mongolian natural resources in exchange for the small place in the Socialist camp. The enormous military base and the thousands of Soviet military and civilian professionals and advisors underscored the Soviet control of Mongolia and the attempt to “Russify” the small nation. That nation over the centuries contributed so much to the Soviet Citizen’s genetic pool that it was difficult to separate them anyway. Most of the Russians had the Tartar and the Mongol blood and often, in large quantities. What was the Soviet citizenry anyway? The Soviet-Mongolian integration was somewhat peaceful with many Soviets being sent to Mongolia and a few Mongols going to the Soviet Union to live, to work, to study, but mainly to learn how to operate the Soviet style. They were brainwashed the Soviet way thus, integrated into the Socialist camp. Yet, no matter how hard the Soviets tried, Mongolia was not developing fast enough. If not for the Silk Road contraband and China, they would be at the very bottom of the Socialist camp, not that they were much higher. Still, any socialist country that was not a part of the Soviet Union was doing somewhat better than the Soviet Republics. They had some breathing room with Hungary, East Germany, and Yugoslavia leading the well-to-do pack. Then, there was Poland and Czechoslovakia, Romania and Albania and only then, the rest of the camp. So, what if Mongolia was on the bottom of the barrel? It was better off than Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Moldavia or Belorussia. Even Mongolia was better off than they.

In the early 1990s, the Soviet Union had collapsed, and the Soviet influence was no more. The Russians could not afford it, and the rest of the Republics could not afford anything. The socialist approach did its dirty deed, and everyone became equal, equally poor. The redistribution of wealth, income equality, and the general mismanagement of everything brought everyone down to the bottom. Everyone needed help, and no one was offering any. Aid ceased overnight while the Soviet strongmen were tearing the country apart. The ex-Communist Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party (the MPRP) gradually yielded its monopoly on power to the Democratic Union Coalition (the DUC), which defeated the MPRP in a first free national election in 1996 in a landslide. That was the first truly free election ever since the revolution that ended the Chinese rule. People had to say something, and they did. For the first time in the history of Mongolia, people had the right to express themselves and not being punished for that. They had the right to speak and to assemble and not to be imprisoned for that. That was something so unfamiliar, so unusual that people were perplexed. How does it work? No punishment? That was the foundation of everything before. Yet, that was a very happy change in their lives that promised a fantastic future at last. Good things could happen now, and it was worth fighting. Since then, the parliamentary elections returned the MPRP to power in 2000 and produced a coalition government in 2004. Strangely to say, but it worked so far.

“What a distinguished assembly,” announced President Vagabundi entering the room and smiling. As always, he was dressed impeccably in a dark Italian suit that was probably worth a yearly salary of the average Mongol, not that one could easily get a suite like that in Mongolia. One had to have money, connections, and access to the right goods. One also had to be able to travel and to the right places. Italy was nice. Money was in short supply in Mongolia, and barter was quite widespread and often preferred. Two-three hundred American dollars a month was a good take home at the time in the region. The cost of everything was going up like the happy yeast was working overtime. Yet, the pension after working for at least twenty-five years was only forty-seven dollars if it was paid at all that month. Eventually, you got your pension but not always when promised.

“What’s the occasion, brothers? What else happened I don’t know, and you are all concerned about and suddenly on the same side? Have some tea. Kumis? Do you want breakfast? I have eaten already, but what about you, people? Anyone, anything?” He looked around and met no smiles or an expression of good feelings. They were hungry but not for food. What was it? Something definitely happened, and they needed his help or his approval. This would not be a leisurely morning.

“Talk, Prime Minister. Please. Why are you here? Why are we all here? Is it a war, an epidemic, a natural disaster? Chinese? Russians? Us?”

This miserable day started for the president somewhat too early and not promising anything good. At two o’clock in the morning, he was rudely awakened by a little Chihuahua dog named Batu Khan, biting him in the ass. This dog was his wife’s pet for a few years already, and she always took him everywhere she went, but not this time. This time, dog, Batu Khan, (what a name for a little dog with a huge ego) stayed home with him, the President. His wife, Bolormaa, went to see her mother, his mother-in-law. She did it every few months staying there with her mother for a few weeks at the time. Her mother would not come to visit them in the palace. She was too proud for that. That was the Mongolian pride that shaped so many mistakes and problems over the centuries yet, it kept the nation together through the turmoil times.

Come to think, was there a time in the Mongolian history that was not troubled? When? The history books had never mentioned that. Was it in your book? It was not in mine. Anyway, President’s mother-in-law was one of these people who went back to the steppes to enjoy nature and to rediscover the ancient roots. Now, she was living in a Yurt and had a few horses, camels and sheep. She also had a few servants assisting her. She was a noblewoman with a lot of money and could afford a few servants and almost anything else. That was like a small village of ten-twelve Yurts in the middle of nomad land. It was interesting that the main Yurt, the centerpiece of the settlement, was of the golden color. Did it mean what it used to mean? Was it a statement of some sort? If it was, that was a very ambitious statement in the country full of very ambitious people. Also, the mother-in-law called it the Golden Sarai that, made some people smile. Well, she could afford it, the president always thought with a thin smile, being the richest woman in the country and maybe a few other countries as well. She could’ve been the richest woman of a few countries even if you put them together.

Her husband, during the Soviet times, was a Minister of Internal Affairs with all associate services reporting to him. He was appointed to the position by the Soviets in about a year after Leonid Brezhnev took over the Kremlin in a putsch and he left the post in about six months after Leonid Brezhnev died. He left the position only because he also died. That was unfortunate, but it happens even to the influential people. What can you do? Otherwise, he would’ve stayed there for eternity. That was one of the best spots to be when the times were good and especially when the times were bad. He was useless as a Minister but extremely useful when it came to bribes. He served with Brezhnev during the Second World War and was the only Mongolian Brezhnev knew or remembered. So, by appointing him to that post, Brezhnev created a friend who would serve him loyally and to the very end.

President’s father-in-law was the most loyal to the Soviets member of the Mongolian Government inner circle. Leonid Brezhnev knew it and let his ministry run free. What bad could they do? The free running agency in any government language meant possible corruption, and in Mongolian, it meant only corruption. Anything could be discussed, and anything could be arranged for the right price, and the price could be paid in many different forms, including the money. Prisons were almost empty and business, both legal and illegal, was booming as never before. It was a good thing, and many justifiably attributed it to the Ministry, of Internal Affairs and its fearless leader. He was the most corrupt Minister of the most corrupt ministry of the most corrupt government in the Socialist Bloc, and that was an accomplishment by itself. Not too many ministers could claim that, and they all were corrupt. How else could you survive the incorruptible corruption of the socialist system? That was the trick in itself. President’s father-in-law was getting very rich, but he never forgot to share with the comrades. That was the deal he never broke. He was considered trustworthy, and everyone liked him. He was friendly, for a price, and that’s for sure. But, he was no more. The good times for the family could’ve been over if not for the President.

That was the time for the Soviets to collect the last tributes, cut the losses and leave, and they did. Brezhnev and his cronies, for example, were always getting gifts worthy the Great Mongolian Khans and some of the internationally admired museums. Concubines, slaves, adventurous hunting, wild parties, the Mongol style, and the beautiful golden tents were always stored away for the Soviet visitors, and they came. They came as often as they could and habitually, in droves. After all, Mongolia was not the only part of the empire fighting for the privilege to pay tribute to the Soviet Politburo. And, the Soviet leaders were all for fairness and why not. In the socialist camp, everyone had a fair chance to recognize the authority and to pay the tribute. That was the right way for those who received and for those who paid to play. Timing, quality, and quantity of gifts were crucial if one wanted to be on the right side of the Soviet masters.

Mongols had the experience, and they continually did it right. It was always a pleasure for the topmost Soviet authorities and the people of trust to visit the Mongolian brothers and to discuss some of the pressing issues. There usually were some pressing matters to discuss. They discussed the problems, and they celebrated the results of discussions, and they took the gifts, and they went back home to recuperate and to get ready for the next round of discussions. “Discussions” with the Mongols had an exhausting nature, and they took time and the strengths. The Soviet leaders, time after time, were pressed to take a vacation, even a small one, after visiting Mongolia with its vast reserves for discussions. Thankfully, everything was friendly, most of the time. Frequently, they went for this badly needed vacation to one of the resorts in another friendly country, somewhere by the sea, river or a lake. It was always somewhere where the weather was as good and friendly as the government was. Doctors often advised doing exactly that. The work of the leader could be quite tiring, and what do you do then. The personal friendship, the relations, between the leaders of the countries was vital for the system of Soviet integration. That’s what counted in the end. One had to be a friend or not to be at all. Was it like in “to be or not to be”? In most cases, that was the question. That is how the Soviet integration worked, to begin with. That was as close to paradise as the socialist system could bring it into being. The leaders would freely give what they would and would take what they could. That was the main driving force and attraction, in addition to the power of life and death, for becoming a leader in any country of the world. Still, most of the leaders in any country of the world could not understand what the citizens were complaining about. Was not it as good for the people as it was for them, the leaders? No matter how hard they worked, people did not appreciate it complaining, criticizing and telling the anecdotes that hurt. What did we do to you? Those anecdotes could offend and badly. They could be true, thus, painful. What about the families? Children… They could link things together. What was wrong with them, people? Everything was done for them, and they just could not enjoy it as the leaders did. Just breathe deep and lay back or bend over when asked or without. Whatever you prefer was good for the leaders. The leaders were on your side. But, people wanted more. Always more. Sorry, there is no more, but we are working on it. Come back tomorrow later. No, people could not understand when enough was enough, but they should. That’s where the big difference between the people and the leaders were. The leaders often knew when to stop, more often than not. There always was another day or night. Yours will be yours. Just move over for now and be, patient. That’s what the leader should learn first and fast.

The President, Arban Vagabundi, became the President with the strong support of this extended family. All of them worked very hard to make it happen, and it did happen. Resources were pulled together, arms were twisted, the resistance removed, and the wheels were greased nationally and internationally. Everyone knew everyone already, and not too many introductions had to be made. This was too important to miss, and they had maybe only one shot at it. The competition of young and restless was growing and fast. So, they put aside the differences and pulled together. This enterprise was not run on a shoestring budget. The budget was the size of the entire country, and it helped when needed or not. And, Arban Vagabundi became the President — one of the most powerful in the history of modern Mongolia, not counting the Khans and the Sultans of the past.

Come to think, the President was not a purebred Mongol. His father was a Mongol though and a Major in the internal security forces, but his mother was an Uzbek. That was not really bad from the Mongolian point of view because, over the centuries, many nations and even small national groups successfully contributed to the genetic pool of the modern Mongols. And, Mongols did it for hundreds of years throughout Asia, Africa and most of Europe, but somewhat more aggressively. So, there was a little bit of a Mongol in almost all of us as well as a little bit of everyone in virtually every Mongol. Would not you say that a Mongol has a universal meaning? More or less and maybe more of more than less. It was like the United Nations in a nutshell, in its singularity. One for all and all for one. Still, the purer Mongol blood you had, the better it was for the optics.

The President’s family on the mother’s side moved to Mongolia from Fergana, Uzbekistan before the Soviet Patriotic War of 1941–45. Her name was Gulzara, and her father was sent to Mongolia to build a run an apparel manufacturing factory in the capital of Ulaanbaatar. He started in the early days of Soviet Uzbekistan as a tailor, then an engineer and finally, the factory director. Why was he chosen to go to Mongolia? Well, with slightly slanted eyes, he looked somewhat Mongolian, he spoke Russian, Uzbek and some Chinese and was a respectable professional. Also, he was a member of the Communist Party, and the NKVD (the predecessor of the KGB) said he was in good standing. All that counted for much when the power in charge wanted someone to go to Mongolia.

There were not too many volunteers and none of the professionals and especially, party members with the language skills. The purges did the job and somewhat well. Now, many would claim the knowledge of many subjects, but only a few could demonstrate it. The equality of incompetence was finally achieved. Purges were the best and the most complete job the Party and the NKVD ever had done. Millions in the Soviet Union and the satellite countries were killed or imprisoned, and that affected every family everywhere, taking all these countries down technically, military, intellectually, and economically. The resistance to the government and the free-thinking became non-existent, but the choices of talents were getting more and more limited. No one wanted to stick the head out, not knowingly. It could be cut off, and it often did. But, the job had to be done, no matter what; no matter what the job was; no matter where.

The Soviet masters thought that Mongolia had to have two apparel manufacturing factories (one for men and one for women). There also was going to be two factories to manufacture the undergarments (one for men and one for women). One factory producing shoes and one leather goods factory had to take care of the country needs. They also considered separate manufacturing for children, but that did not go far. The Soviet Union and China were appointed to provide that so, children had less than even adults to choose from.

The administration also wanted to form the rest of industries, but good craftsmen or any craftsmen were in short supply. The steppes were getting empty of free-spirited Mongols, and more people were pressed into living in cities and towns and working in the factories of one sort or another. Hundreds, if not thousands, of the Soviet professionals, were sent to help the “younger brother” Mongolia in the development of socialism. For them, it was a chance to work overseas; thus, more money, including some hard currency and foreign goods. The Russian language was a part of the primary curriculum in every educational institution of the country, and that built a strong foundation for Russification. Thus, Russification was getting stronger by the minute but not prevailing yet. Intermarriage was not readily supported but not forbidden either, so it happened and often. Mongolia was integrated into the Soviet Union without being officially in the Soviet Union. Still, the day was young. Give it a little time, and anything could happen. It could become the new Soviet Republic. Was that on the minds of the Soviet leader? There were some talks and speculations.

Out of all industrial marvels the Soviet Union forced upon Mongolia, only the leather goods were of somewhat acceptable quality and design. Actually, it was desirable by the state members of the socialist bloc, and some of it even was sold for the hard currency. That was big considering the permanent lack of hard currency when it was so badly needed. Well, the rest of it, to say politely, was garbage but that was the trademark of the Socialist camp. Almost everything was Soviet-style — garbage in and garbage out. The stores were empty of the whole shebang, the black market grew exponentially, and all illegal was prospering. But, the prisons were full of amateurish businessmen. Illegal was a very booming business for as long as you kept sharing and did not argue with the powers in charge much. After all, they had the power and could take everything you had but wanted just a small percentage. Still, even Mongolia was slightly better off than the rest of the Soviet Union because of its proximity to the Silk Road and what it offered. The Silk Road provided the means for the goods to be obtained, moved and sold, taxes not paid and money to be made. At the time, it was an excellent place to be.

The Uzbek grandfather of the President, Yosef Galimov, was able to build a proper factory in Mongolia. Actually, it was a tailor shop, like the one he used to work in years ago, only a thousand times bigger. They designed the garments, cut the material, and sewed the pieces together in the way that someone could wear it one day. It was not very good or even enough for the country, but they still produce it, and that was good. People could buy something in the state-run stores, and the rest of it came from the private tailors and the bazaar. Bazaars had it all and even from the foreign countries. It was expensive, but what choice did you have. Go naked? That would not be polite, and climate did not promote it either. So, everyone had to participate in the “Silk Road activities” in one way or another. That was the bloodline of Central Asia. One would raise and sell a sheep or two a few times a year. Another one was good with the hands. That one could sing and dance, and the neighbor could cook well and for many. Almost everyone could find something extra to do, and that was up for sale or barter. They did not mind working but for money. If you were not too lazy, you could survive and even well. Soon, many people had found the way to make some additional money, and that moved the money around. And, as you may know, what goes around, comes around.

The Uzbek grandmother was quite educated and extremely intelligent. In no time, she mastered Mongolian to a somewhat accented perfection. Now, she was able to work, and she did. She was appointed a small downtown cinema director and soon that grew into a large community center with a cinema, small theater, and classes in all branches of art.

People could learn to paint, sculpture, act, sing and dance and all that for free. That was covered in the taxes as well as healthcare and education. All of it was terrible, outdated, and not really professional but for free. Free was good, and people supported it not really knowing the difference. Thus, one got very little pay, bad social service, food, and other goods shortages, no freedom, of speech, assembly, religion or movement but tried to stay happy. So, you drink to death, and that’s where the happiness was hiding, in the bottle. That was the happy times in the Soviet Union, Mongolia and the rest of the Socialist camp.

The cultural center was becoming important. The whole set up was quite popular, and the center started to offer classes in Math, Literature, Language Skills, History, and the car repairs but not too many would sign up for these. After about two years of trying hard and advertising it profoundly, they had to give up with almost all educational and vocational classes but the car repairs and driving. Still, the artistic side of it went strong. They even had the rare evenings for the public where anyone could perform, and then, dances and the non-alcoholic refreshments were served as well. This was so new that tickets for those events were sold out a month in advance. That’s how popular it was and the director of the center, the Uzbek grandmother of the President, was very respected. She could do no wrong.

So, the grandparents never went back to Fergana or even Uzbekistan. Well, they went back there for a few times for a visit with relatives and old friends, weddings, funerals and some other happy and not occasions. They thought of returning to the place that used to be home, but the home was in Ulaanbaatar now. That was a better home. No, it was not the best place on earth, but they built the life there. And, it was a good life all considering. They enjoyed the work, and the pay was good, and people were just people. People were always good if you treated them right. So, they applied for the permanent residency permit, and it was granted just in a few months. Bureaucracy was bureaucracy even in Mongolia, and it always required time for the due process. The Mongols thought so well of both of them, and the Soviets did not see anything wrong with them either. So, their daughter, Gulzara, was a born citizen of Mongolia,, and thus, could be anyone in that country. But, she was not a citizen of the Soviet Union. Dual citizenship was not allowed in the Soviet Union. Maybe one day, maybe one day but when. Soviet citizenship was somewhat stronger than the Mongolian, but it was not that important.

Then, Gulzara met a young Lieutenant in the Mongolian internal security force. The security forces; he was going places. They met at the community center on one of these famous gatherings with tickets impossible to obtain. Only the connected ones were lucky enough to get them. She had a ticket because her mother ran the place and he had a ticket because he was in the security apparatus. What a coincidence. What a blessing. He was a Mongol, and she was an Uzbek, but they fell in love on the first dance. It was like in a fairytale, but it happens if you try. A Princess meets a Prince, and they fell in love.

Six months later, they were married. It took that long only because some relatives from Uzbekistan wanted to attend. Visas had to be arranged, places to stay, the wedding, the food, and many more things. Money was not really an issue. Everyone helped as much as they could, and some of them could do a lot. They wanted a traditional Mongolian wedding, but her parents wanted at least some Uzbek dishes like Plov, Lagman, Kabob, Samsa, Manti and many more. All dessert dishes were Uzbek, but many of the drinks came locally. Mongols knew drinking better than the Uzbeks. The relatives in Fergana offered to pay for the chef and his assistants to go over and to prepare the feast. After all, between the Mongolian, and the Uzbek side, at least three hundred people would attend, and no one believed in the Mongolian cousin. It was an expensive affair, but that’s how it was done in that corner of the world. Everyone chipped in, and it was enough to pay for the wedding and all associated expenses and to leave plenty for the newlyweds to start on the right foot. They had everything they needed, and the baby that should be soon on the way would be fully equipped at least for the first few years of his life. And, the rest of it? Parents, grandparents, and multiple friends and relatives on both sides of the border would provide. That was the custom no one would ever break. That was a good custom, don’t you think so?

Arban Vagabundi was born, as was expected, in about ten months after the memorable wedding. He had the loving parents, fighting for attention grandparents on both sides and scores of relatives and friends of the older generations wishing to help and willing to do almost anything for the boy. Just tell us what you need. How do you like that? Can you beat that combination? Could he fail? Yes, but why? There was no need for that. Don’t even mention that. So, the boy grew without any significant problems that other youngsters could acquire. He was in a different orbit with the rest of the world. Now, he was a teenager, and it was time to think of his future. Everyone agreed that Arban should go to the University in the Soviet Union. That should give him a good education (better than what was offered in Mongolia), decent status, possible connections, and fluent Russian.

All that was so important in the world of so many important things. A miscalculation could be costly, but the right calculation could be profitable. So, things had to be arranged and just right. Moscow and Leningrad (the first choices) were too far, and no one had real connections there. Also, an Asian in the predominantly Russian part of the Soviet Union would be a minority; thus, may be discriminated. It was so prevalent in the multi-national brotherly union of the Soviet Union. So, one had better know his place. Someone proposed the University of Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan. It was not too far from Mongolia, still in Asia and close to the relatives. It was more local, friendlier, and more familiar. The relatives in Fergana had multiple connections there and could help with almost anything. The telephone calls were made, and the ideas exchanged, and young Arban went to Uzbekistan to become a doctor. To be a doctor was good, very good. That was a profession of status in Mongolia and doctors, especially, the Soviet Union educated were in very short supply. If he survived the University, Arban’s future was secured.

The five years at the University went like a dream. Another country, money to spend, the status of the privileged foreign student, available girls of the different descend and the score of relatives and new friends made the experience quite agreeable. No, Arban was never in trouble on any front. Still, the family was always there to help if needed. He went to Fergana quite often and was always welcome. He was made to know that he was a family and a close one. There, on multiple occasions, he notices that relatives were somewhat different. The culture was not known to him and needed an occasional explanation. Some of their customs, some of the food, some of the social structure were different, and a few other things he could not pinpoint. First, he thought it was the Uzbek influence. After all, they were Uzbeks and not the Mongols. Then, with time, he started to notice more and more differences in customs even with the Uzbeks. One Friday evening, he was offered to join some of the cousins in the Jewish synagogue with the following Sabbath dinner at the uncle house. That is how he understood that the family from Fergana was actually Jews, the Bukharan Jews. Before that, he knew the words, and now, he met the people. And, they were his people, his family. All this was very new to him but so interesting. Was he a Jew?

Arban never met any Jews before, not in Mongolia. Well, that is beside the grandparents and the mother, but he did not know. They never told him that. Maybe they were planning to do that after he came home from the University, but he did not know that either. The entire Jewish thing was a mystery to him. Jews were a mystery to him. The Jewish connection? Where did that come from? How could he miss it? There were not too many Jews in Mongolia if any. Where would they come from? Where did all Jews come from? He did not know any and never heard of any Jews in Mongolia. A synagogue? Was such a thing in Mongolia? Where? Judging by the grandparents and the Uzbek relatives, Jews were not such bad people. He was not bad people, but he did not want the whole world to know about the Jewish connection. People, in general, did not like the Jews, and there should be a reason. It was so confusing but intriguing and so exciting. Jews, what does it mean? What is the whole thing about? He wanted to know, so he started to ask. First, the family was hesitant somewhat. They called the grandparents and the mother. Then, they started talking, and that was something to listen to. That was like a journey through the history of the world with the Jews leading the way paving it with accomplishment, tragedies, tears, and the dead bodies. He belonged to such an honorable group of people, a nation of Jews.

The relatives showed Arban the Torah and some other religious books that went back to the 16th — 17th centuries. Some artifacts were even older than that. They had a Persian silver coin that went back to the times before Christ. That coin had the Jewish symbols. Jews were that influential even back then and back there, in Persia. The story was (as far as they knew it) that they were the descendants of the Tribe of Naphtali and the Tribe of Issachar of the Lost Tribes of Israel who may have been exiled during the Assyrian captivity of Israel in the 7th century BCE. Historically, they spoke Bukhori, a Tajik dialect of the Persian language. That language was connected to the former Central Asian Emirate of Bukhara, which once had a sizable Jewish community. It was not clear whether Bukhori came from Bukhara or the other way around, but what difference did it really make. They were the ethnic Hebrews and lived in those lands for at least fifteen hundred years.

The Bukharan Jews were the Mizrahi Jews and have been introduced to and practiced Sephardic Judaism. The Mizrahi Jews, (“Sons of the East” — Hebrew) or Oriental Jews, were the descendants of local Jewish communities in the Middle East from biblical times into the modern era. They included the descendants of Babylonian and Mountain Jews from modern Iraq, Syria, Bahrain, Kuwait, Dagestan, Azerbaijan, Iran, Uzbekistan, the Caucasus, Kurdistan, Afghanistan, India, and Pakistan. The Yemenite Jews, as well as the North African Jews, were sometimes also included but their histories were separate from Babylonian Jewry. They also claimed to be the descendants of the Khazars and the Jewish Kingdom that was right where they were now. Neither the Mongols nor the Arabs or the Turks mistreated the Jews. Jews, whether converted to Islam or not, were allowed to lead the professional lives and to prosper to some degree. The degree of prospering had to be determent by the local, ruler, and a few other conditions. Many of the Bukharan (Mizrahi) Jews, became quite known throughout history. Many converted to Islam either because they believed in it or just to make a living a little more comfortable yet, all were born in the region of Bukhara, Samarkand, and Fergana. If we check the birthplaces of most of the Arab/Turkish famous doctors, scientists, writers, philosophers, and the astronomers, we will find, the Emirate of Bukhara (a part of the former Kingdom of Khazars) quite often.

The relatives helped Arban to understand the complex history and the philosophy of the religion. He liked some of the customs, but the faith made no sense for him. All religious convictions were foreign to him, and the relatives did not push. They were not very religious and very assimilated. Still, there were some traditions they liked to follow, and Arban loved it as well. He wanted to know more, and the relatives gave him the names of the famous people and what they accomplished and tons of books to read. Some of those books were old, even rare, published before the revolution. Not too many new books covered the issues Arban wanted to know. The Soviet philosophy did not include the ethnicity and the religious aspects as the legit questions and suppressed anything related to that. So, it became more of Arban’s hobby, but he was earnest about. It was the interest chased for pleasure and relaxation and not as a primary occupation, but he wanted to know it all. Now, he knew that he had some Jewish blood, the blood of the mysterious Khazars that all Mongol warlords respected so much. So, he was one of them and a Mongol on top of it. What was he more? No matter what and how that was an unbeatable combination. He was so proud of it but warned not to advertise it, too openly. Who knows who was listening and their feelings on the subject. Not everyone was friendly to the Jews. Racism and especially, anti-Semitism, was still everywhere and so powerful. And, the minorities were the worst racists of them all. In short, the entire Jewish thing was on the need to know bases and not too many people needed to know. Only if you knew what the other people were, you could tell them what you are. But they should be first. Know your adversary better that they know you and be as ruthless as they are. Always strike first, if necessary. It was an astute policy that saved so many lives.

After graduating from the University in Tashkent, Arban came home to Ulaanbaatar as a doctor and with the knowledge of Mongolian, Uzbek, Russian, some Tajik and Chinese languages. Under the father’s advice, Arban went to the military service where he served for three years as a doctor in the military hospital in the capital. His record was spotless and quite impressive, and he could get any position anywhere in the country. He could even get a job in the Soviet Union, but that would be stretching. It was not really needed. Now, he was ready to enter and enjoy the civilian life, but he met a beautiful, yet overly spoiled, girl, and got married. They met at the retirement party of the grandfather. The grandmother had retired a few years earlier. He was active and energetic, but it was time even for him. Everyone who was someone came to that party, and so a few very significant government officials and often, with the families. The grandfather and the grandmother were quite well known and respected in the country, and that went far in the land of that size. They represented things that the Soviet Union had done right in Mongolia, that worked and rather well. In short, these Soviets were accepted and welcomed in the Mongolian society that was not known for embracing just anyone. The history taught the Mongols to be choosy, and history was always right. Who could know history better than the history itself?

So, Arban met a girl there. Well, they were introduced by a mutual acquaintance, his father’s boss, a general in the internal security. Her family was in government, high and very powerful. Her father, actually, was the Minister of the Internal Affairs and in charge of the internal security. Arguably, he was the most powerful man in the country. Her family wanted to give Arban a hand up so, maybe he could become a Minister one day. They wanted him to be a Minister of Health and later, of something better. “Why not, thought Arban. That was a good life, even in Mongolia. He had the knowledge, connections, and the funds if needed. Everyone would help him. Of course, that would be an investment in him, and he would pay it back with interest. He could do it.” Thus, the goal was set, the plans were drawn, and the entire family on both sides of the border was fully engaged. Even though Uzbekistan did not border Mongolia, but through Kazakhstan, everyone knew each other already. They all traveled in one direction or another helping each other with every problem. It was a true union of two entirely different clans, and it worked so well. Those people, even so different, were not that diverse. There were no arguments, no conflicts, no significant disagreement, or even small cracks in the relations that nothing could go wrong. If they did it right, everyone would benefit greatly. That was so clear. These two completely different sides of the world suddenly came together with a common goal.

At the age of thirty, Arban was a Deputy Minister of Health and, at the age of thirty-five, the Deputy Prime Minister. At forty-five, he was the President of the country. Of course, it could take longer if the Soviet Union did not fall apart, and things did not start to move along much faster. Money became more persuasive than ever and the money they had. All sides of the family pledged the funds that could make it happen, and it did happen. The boy everyone liked so much was the President of Mongolia now, and that meant everyone would prosper and fast. Corruption was the name of the game and corruption they knew. They could write a book on corruption and maybe one day they would. Mongols and Uzbeks wrote a book on, the subject before, and they could do it again. The main lesson from that book was: “If you could not buy someone, you did not offer enough. Offer more and more until it’s enough. This is only an investment.” That’s what Arban’s father-in-law said repeatedly, and everyone agreed.

So, once again, the wife was not home. He liked those rare moments more and more. He appreciated the freedom, not that he was not free before. Still, he was somewhat looser than when she was around. And, once again, Arban used the opportunity and visited his most favorite girlfriend. Tradition called for many girlfriends, and the great Khans, had hundreds of wives and concubines, but times had changed and, not mentioning the time, no one could afford so many women. Think of gifts, apartments, dinners, and many other things. Where to find time for all that? What if there were children? What to do then? And, on top of it, where would one find so many women in a country of only two million people. Of cause, one could explore the overseas, but that involved so much hustle and could bring in unwanted attention. It was much easier for the Great Khan. He started wars, and that helped the issue. Well, good women had to be exported. No, no, not slaves but exported. So, Arban had only ten, and even that was a handful, and the favorite one was from Ukraine. She was a good woman by all standards. Her father used to be a high up party member, but the social revolution and the recent changes left him outside the system. That was hard times for many and in all former Soviet Republics.

Almost a hundred former officials from the Soviet Union and a few other socialist countries came to Mongolia. They needed a place to hide and not just to hide but also to hide comfortably. Mongolia was readily available but for the price. What the proud members of the Communist Party could offer to the honorable members of the foreign government in exchange for the decent living in that foreign country when they had no power left? They offered anything and even their wives, sisters and daughters came in to play. That was a healthy and very happy arrangement. So, some money, a few connections that still work, knowledge of a few secrets and the friendly attitude could help to survive and often, could go far and even further than that.

All of the former Soviet-era officials had some money stashed away; a few, still had powerful connections, and everyone was friendly with anyone who could be helpful. And, they tried to be beneficial to each other. They knew each other for ages and accomplished a few mutually beneficial projects. Who would you trust now a newly established wannabe or someone you accepted before and who may need your help soon enough? Thus, everyone felt like home in Mongolia, well taken care of and being in charge. Even if you were not in charge, you felt that way. If they had to live in Mongolia to survive the troubling times, so be it. There could be jail or something more terrifying. Your former friends could be your worst enemies. The horror stories were hard hitting. The new people in power were paying back to the old ones. The new ones wanted everything the old ones had and more. They were out for blood. So, people were tortured, imprisoned, and even killed, and that was only the beginning. No one knew where it would go, but staying put was dangerous. Thus, anyone who could took to the road. It did not really matter where to go but where to go from. There was too much at stake to stick around so, they did not wait for long.

President Arban Vagabundi came back to the palace around one o’clock in the morning being slightly drunk and feeling a little tired. That was a little too much pleasure even for him. The Ukrainian girlfriend was tireless, and he worked all day long. Yes, he had a great evening, but now, he needed to wind down and rest. Tomorrow would be another busy day. It never stopped in the palace. His heart was singing and calling for another drink. He liked this American Bourbon. Bourbon Whiskey or a Single Malt Scotch Whiskey — what a choice. So, he had another drink and went directly to the bed. It was a slow drink that soothed him down while he was looking out the window at the lights of the capital. Yes, they had lights at night now in Mongolia and the nightlife. It was not there just a few years ago. How much had changed and basically, in no time? Was it his doing? Well, not all but he contributed a lot. He supported and promoted the reforms that allowed the private businesses to mushroom and flourish throughout the country. He was concentrating on the small family type of companies more than his predecessors. He thought that the family business was much closer to the Mongolian heart than a factory. Arban’s predecessor wanted to utilize the leftover Soviet structure, but that did not work very well. Only a few facilities were in good shape and could fit into a more or less free society. But, the rest of it had failed even before the Soviet collapse. The apparel manufacturing factory that used to be managed by the grandfather was sold to a private company funded from Uzbekistan, modified, and put back online. Now, they produced somewhat decent clothes that were becoming popular throughout the region. They even had their own designer or two. The majority of employees were from the former Soviet Union, mostly Russia and Ukraine. The mismanaged factories there closed as well so, good professional people suddenly became available. Mongolia offered them jobs with good pay and the full relocation package. Many and from different industries came. The leather factory and a few smaller shops were doing very well. They were selling internationally, making a good living. The goods were not the best, but the prices could not be beaten. The labor cost and the raw materials were low enough to beat the competition. In short, thanks to reforms, some of the industries survived; some, grew up and expanded, and some, were entirely new and even profitable. A few things looked promising. No, Mongolia was not going down but up, up, up. However, more work had to be done, more money was needed, and brains with workable ideas were hard to find.

The security detail saluted him sharply and locked the door to the bedroom. They had to die if needed, protecting him, and maybe they would. Arban doubted that, but they were Mongols and could do such a crazy thing. The Great Khan guards died when needed, and that was a fact. Well, he was not the Great Khan, and these guards were not those guards. Arban laughed to his own joke. He undressed slowly, spread the arms like an eagle, and fall down on the bad. Then, there was a squeal and sharp pain in the ass. Something with very sharp teeth bit him in the right chic of the well pampered behind. The pain was unbearable. He saw himself jumping from the bed and screaming from the top of the longs. It was the pain, and he was angry. Damn it. The security detail stormed the door and piled up in the room. Guns were rapidly drawn, and the wide dark slanted eyes of the world conquerors were scanning, searching, dissecting every corner of the luxurious bedroom. Nothing could escape those radars of responsibility, and they were serious to the point of killing defending the President.

The bedroom of the Presidential palace was decorated in the decadent style of the Golden Horde. In short, it looked like a Mongolian yurt filled with the luxury of the entire world. Interesting enough, but many of these objects would not be found in the bedrooms of the western leaders. Yet, check the Asian and the Middle Eastern palaces and there you are. It could be the genes, or it could be the customs, it looked great but somewhat outdated. Still, they liked it for thousands of years and who are we to judge it. The rare carpets from Persia, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, China, and the other parts of Central Asia covered the room almost entirely. Windows? What windows? There was no room for that. After all, it was like a yurt, and a yurt had no other openings but a door and a hole in the domed roof. That gave the right feel to that. It was almost as good as the real thing. The wall-size window was in the small office adjacent to the bedroom. Yet, there was no open space of the steppes, horses, camels, freedom. Well, you can’t have everything, can you? This was the next best thing to the yurt if not better. There were plenty of windows in the office. That’s where the windows belonged. Arban could stay there separated by the plate bulletproof window glass from the world of his country, his capital. He could see the people and the mountains not too far away. There were the steppes. The birds of prey were flying there in search of the meal, prey or a mate. They could find it all. They were free. He was a bird of prey searching for the prey and the mate, but he was not really free. He had the obligations and had to do the job. Was it Fair? How could he tell? Well, he asked for that? No one forced him to be what he was. He could go to the steppes and live a simple life or go to Tashkent and enjoy the good life to the full extent. No, he was not the master of his life anymore, but it was so good to be the Great Khan. Only if he had the powers of the great khans, but then again, what was there he needed and did not have. His authorities were almost unlimited and as enjoyable. He had the power of life and death? It was not that obvious, but he had it. He could use it legally through the courts or not. The secret service and the guards would follow his desires to the point. They never refused before. And, if they refused, and did not do what was asked from them, their lives were at stake, and the new guards would do the job. So, what was the big difference between the Great Khans and him? No, it was not that big and mostly nothing. It was so good to be a Great Khan.

The pelts and the heads of lions and tigers created the masculine feel about the place. It left the impression that the host was a great hunter who enjoyed it almost as much as money. And, the place smelled of money and power. He was the Great Khan after all. But, the porcelain vases and the delicate statuettes from the early Ming Dynasty added some softness and the feminine touch to the vast array of the weapons of war old enough to take part in the Mongol arsenal of the 12th and 13th century. There, in the far-right corner by the window, was even a complete armor suit of the Mongolian warrior from the times of Genghis Khan. Unfortunately, they had nothing that really belonged to the Great Khan. There were a few things that came from his household, wives, relatives, and close associates. Many articles belonged to Ogedei Khan, Batu and even Timur, known as Amir Timur and Tamerlane, “Timur the Lame.” The things that belonged to him when he was still alive believed to be powerful talismans, not mentioning being expensive. So, over the years and centuries of the unchecked inheritance, they all disappeared and could not be identified any longer. After the death of the owner, valuable thigs had the tendency to walk away. The site of the Great Khan burial was unknown. Thousands of horses and camels walked over the site to make it unrecognizable, and all people that took part in the original burial were killed or took their own lives. They wanted to preserve the remains of the Great Khan and to protect what was his last resting place. No, nothing that could be truly traced to Genghis Khan was known and on display, not in the museums and not in the palace. Yet, this magnificent collection of swords, shields, battle axes, bows and arrows, pikes, helmets, daggers, knives, and the other articles of the killing art could make one a sexual monster. Or, if it categorically went to your head, it could turn you into a complete impotent in the shortest possible time. It happened both ways too often. That’s how potent and impressive it was. And Mongols were a horny lot, to begin with. That condition was a result of the meat diet, plenty of fresh air and rest, war as an exercise and the fermented horse and camel milk. Also, their brains were not preoccupied with the issues of other societies worrying if the factories worked well and how the children did at school. All that was rubbish, and the religion did not influence them much. They prayed when they wanted and if they wanted to do that and only to the gods of their choosing. Work was a relative term for them as well. What is work anyway, and how much should one work? If you worked just enough to feed your family and the rest of it was done by the people from other societies that work for a living, was it acceptable? Why is it not? If those people did not want to work for you just for peanuts while you took the lion’s share of their work, enslave them. That is why you were good with the sword and on the horse. That’s the work you did and were good at it. Just keep practicing, and do not get rusty. Shoot the arrows straighter and farther than your opponent. Swing the sword and slash with the mighty force. Ignore the pain and worry about that later. Go forward, push, push, push. The horse is your best friend. Cherish and honor it. Don’t ever let it down and it would not betray you. Sharpen your sword and keep it clean. Your life is on that point of the sword. That’s your life and the life of future generations. Future generations begin with you. It was difficult to say exactly what part of all that played the leading role in the physical and moral conditions of the Mongols. But, the fermented horse and camel milk together with the foul-smelling meat dishes were not the last ones in the book. It is historically known that Mongols were a lively bunch of people. The Mongol nation was not shining at the moment but give it time, a chance to recover from the shock of generations and the Soviet dominations. The Soviets had never recovered from the Mongol Hordes. They were still partly Mongols and partly, whatever, but they were the Soviets, the Russians, the Ukrainians. Even they, lately, wanted to go back to the roots but the roots were mostly invented. What were the roots of the people who were the slaves of the Nomads, Vikings, Mongols, Germans, and the Turks for a good part of a thousand years? The Mongols, in turn, were none of that, so they will recover and soon enough. They were strong, and the prophecies predicted all that before. They will pull through if they follow the prophecies and the prophesies were a few and not always clear. Some of them came true before and many times. But some did not. Yet, there was no specific date in a prophecy, and the interpretation fully depended on the interpreter. If the interpreter was a good and fast talker, that was the official interpretation that either came through or not. Thus, who knows when its due and what should happen? So, you sit and wait, considering the circumstances and projecting them on your understanding of the events. The circumstances could change, but you wait for the right ones. It would come. Everything had to align for the prophecy to come true. Don’t you see that? Is it there yet? Are we there yet? Are you sure you are reading it, right? Read it again and think it through. Read another prophecy. Does it work better? It might if you read it right. Are you sure you are not missing anything? Check that prophecy again. Easy does it. It will reveal itself to those who are patient and wise. Are we patient and wise? We should be; we are reading it. We believe in it. Do you doubt it?

The armaments of various armies and from different periods were on display almost in every room and hallway of the palace. It was everywhere, and there was no room or even a corner of the room that did not have something from the warring reality. There was also a room of the flags and standards. Yes, Mongols were the warriors and not only on display. All these armies that came in bled and left, but mostly, just went through. Even then, a few shots would be fired and a few people killed; the animals would be taken, the women raped and the yurts burnt. And, every time, the Mongols would follow the invaders, wait for the right moment and pay back as much as they could. Blood had to be spilled to protect the honor. Blood was the only acceptable currency. That was the Mongolian pride, the honor of the wild tribe.

Nothing was forgotten, and nobody was forgiven. Who lost more in the end? What difference does it make? Just never die alone. Share the privilege. Die and let die, but better live and let die. Mongolia was not a very hospitable environment for those who was not really invited. There were a few places like that around the globe. Well, there are only a few places in the world that were not like that. Yet, Mongolia was one of the harshest ones, one of the bloodiest ones. The land was exacting, and the people were even more stringent. So, the remnants of the belligerent powers visiting this corner of the world were quite impressed considering the size of the place. In the end, the visitors were taxed in full. Many were happy to get away alive. Why did they come? Why did not they go around? It was not that difficult. It would not take too much of an effort, just a few hundred miles or so.

What we know that, in some cases, it was pride and incompetence but not often. Yet, one could’ve taken another route. It was easy and not that demanding. They came so far; what’s another few hundred miles? The Mongolian steppes were only the prairie lands, nothing special. It was flat, cold, hot, dusty with not much water or the wild game. So, what was it? Why did you want to conquer that place, these people? Is it just because Mongolia was situated on the crossroads to everywhere or the Mongols started it first? It could be both, but definitely, one of it.

For years, ever since the original palace was constructed, two servants were assigned full-time just to dust the armament collection. It took almost a week to dust and clean it all and then, they would start from the beginning again and again and again. That was not the job but the position, for life. Those positions were transferred from father to the oldest son from generation to generation for a few hundred years already. And now, the armament collection was so enormous that the chief of staff was considering adding one more servant to the cleaning crew. That was a new and an unexpected expense, but it was justified in the minds of the rulers. Every Mongolian ruler ever since before the revolution liked to display his heritage in the form of weapons, animal pelts, paintings of battles, the silk robes of the mighty Khans and the gigantic library of war books. There were some other books as well but, on another floor, the basement, of the palace. The servants believed that the inhabitants of the palace had never ever touched any of these books, but it was still very inspiring. They did not need to read about history. They were the creators of it. They were history. They created the tales and became the fairytales. That’s what they believed in, but after the Mongol empire, not too many of them left even a small indentation on the fabric of antiquity. There was not much to remember but the blood, slavery, rape, pillage, death, and the tragedy of that all. Yes, there are still a few beautiful palaces here and there but what do they tell you.

Who built it, for whom and at what cost? Who enjoyed it and who cried the fountains of tears in the rooms made of the white marble? Only if the marble walls could speak, they would tell the real story. But then, if any wall could talk, what would we hear? At least with the Tatars and Mongols, we knew what to expect, but what of the other walls? What of the good guys? The walls could tell us how good the good ones were, but there was a gag order in place for the walls big and small just about everywhere. Was anyone really good? Ever? Walls had to behave as they knew nothing, heard nothing, and could say nothing. Walls knew its place. They would not let anyone in and nothing, even a gossip, out. If the walls talked, they would get demolished, and many already did. They were the threating walls. Maybe, just maybe, if you stop and listen, if you were gentle and polite to the wall, it may tell you something. Listen. Maybe there was something good in there after all. Still, even the smallest of the nations had the right to think as a big one, and this one also used to act like one and for hundreds of years. Slow down. Stop. Look and listen. Walls are talking.

The other types of books, art and the artifacts in the palace were stored in the basement room that was not meant for exhibition. Yet, the most exciting things could be found in there if one cared to look but who had the time. Yet, some servants did. The turmoil created by the present laboriously attempting to catch up with the future while leaving the past behind had no room for the memories in the form of a few old yet, only slightly used books. Often, it was not clear what was in those books. Was it all Kosher and Hallal when one wanted the history to be on your side? Was it the right history or the wrong version of it? How do we know the right and the wrong side of it if even the history did not know that for sure? Questions, problems, misunderstandings… Go figure. How badly do we need it on a good day? How miserable do we need to be on a bad day to keep adding to the misery? Who could afford to step back in time, and read the old books when the future was calling? The time of the old books was gone already, right when they became old. Reading… What, why? When… The new stuff was coming out every day, every minute; no, every second. The old books were good only for the décor now.

Keep it that way. The old books made the room look unique, meaningful, and you smart and profound. That’s for better. Impress the youngsters of the new generations. They do not know much anyway, but they may know something when they are the age of old books. So, let them see the books, open a few, dwell on it. It may give them some ideas or maybe not. You are the leader, and the leaders had to be upfront riding the magnificent horses and not trailing behind with the wagons, children, old people, animals, and the memories of the past. What would that do for you? No old books, please. No useless morals. No heavy luggage. Nothing should slow us down. Nothing should be in our way. The leaders will ride up front wearing the shiny armor and write the new books for the people behind, on the wagon train. That’s where your nation is. The wagon train people were not strong and brave enough to be upfront with you. They were the followers — what a comfortable place to be when trying anything was not your cup of tea. The leaders will tell the history the way they see it fit. That’s the benefit of being the leader. That’s your fate and station in life.

That display of power and money was very impassive to the simple-minded visitors of the palace, but the bed itself took the lion’s share of the interest. The bed was meant to look like it was just a pile of rare carpets intermingled with some animal pelts. Again, it was in the style of the traditional Mongolian yurt but where the luxury was in abundance. It was not very high and yet, not too low. It was just of the right height for the person of the President Vagabundi statue. In general, it looked like a pile of traditional goods used by the hundreds of generations of the Mongols for the rest and the sleep in a tent. It seemed comfortable, so old-style and so authentic. But, the visitors did not know that the middle of the bed contained a very expensive but, nonetheless, comfortable mattress from America called the Tempur-Pedic Mattress. Including the shipping cost, it was more than an average Mongol made in a year, but the average Mongol was not buying it either. The average Mongol may not even know that something like that existed. And, the President could afford even a few of them if needed. That was the difference between the President of the country and the average Mongol that did not need it and could rest just on a carpet, new or old. It did not make any difference for a tired Mongol who just feasted on Kumis. The fermented camel and horse milk did it every time and, if it did not do it quite right, one had to drink more of it. And, they did. The salesman claimed that the foam in the mattress had memory, and it was actually the space-age material explicitly created for NASA by significant scientists from Europe.

The Secret Service agents stated that they saw this foam and the mattresses sold in the Walmart store they visited in America. They were working tourists and needed to see everything. The state paid for the trip, and many questions about America had to be answered. Should Mongolia lean toward the United States or toward China? China was closer, but America looked better. China seemed like Mongolia but somewhat more prominent and better off. But, if the cards were played right with America, Mongolia could look better than China yet, not bigger. Still, there was no Walmart store specializing in Chinese products in Mongolia. Just give it time, give it time.

China was just next door, and the Chinese goods were all over the place and not all of them legal. The secret service could not check any information related to Walmart or the products sold there. So, maybe the Tempur-Pedic Mattress was, but perhaps it was not there. Nonetheless, the President was happy, and this report was buried with the rest of the dubious intelligence. President Vagabundi loved his bed, and he firmly believed that only the unique talent of the Mongolian craftsmen could construct such a miracle. What a delightful bed it was, and it had everything he needed. No, he did not have to get up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water or some Kumis. Everything was within the bed and close by, no matter where you were at the moment. He could recall many good memories involving this bed. The bed itself was a good memory. He loved to be the President of such a country like Mongolia. Where else the President had to work so little, be treated like a God, and get rewarded as a Mongolian Khan? Where else? In America? Genghis Khan did not have a Palace like that, and the tributes from the conquered nations were not of this magnitude.

Still, it was more than enough for the simple Mongol taste that was not very simple back then. Could the American President live like that? He did not think so. The American President was a puppet of his people, and the Mongolian President had the people for puppets. Asia was always Asia and no matter in what country it was. He loved to think of himself as a puppet master of the Mongolian people, but he did it in a quiet of his mind. Who knows what happens if people hear of that. They always were wild people. Him and his beloved country. Him and his precious people. Him and his women… Well, let’s not go there for now. That could be a slippery slope. Even the President should have some decency and apply it when needed. It was not the wild West even in the most savage of times. No President was ever impeached in Mongolia, and not even a loud word was ever said against him. Could a woman become the President of Mongolia? A strong woman… A woman ready for blood? A Genghis Khan type of women? Yes, but only in her dreams. What is it, America? And, even there, in America, it happened just in her dreams. Still, it was a great dream, full of fantasies and profits and a very disappointing awakening. Not too many people would be alive after that, but she, the American one, was still well and kicking. What a shame, what a shame, and she was not in prison. Maybe she was too mean and too greedy not to survive or just fade away. Could they do something like that in Mongolia? His mother-in-law could. She was mean enough.

“What is it, Mr. President? Where is it? Are you okay? Where you hurt?” The senior security officer was shielding the President moving his gun in a wide arch and taking in the entire scenery at the same time.

He was of the Mongolian descent, and that was obvious. Yet, it was more in his attitude that in his looks. Was he a purebred Mongol? Was anyone a purebred Mongol? Anywhere? Was anyone purebred at all? Most likely, everyone in Europe and Asia had some of the Mongol blood, and every Mongol had in his veins something of the others. Even the big world could be just a small village when it comes to ancestry. That’s what you get when you travel a lot and not too busy working but socializing with every opportunity and without one. The security officer was born in the Soviet Union, not too far from the Mongolian border, served in the Soviet military and then, in the security forces of the USSR. The Soviet crowd and prison control doctrine dictated that the best result came when the security forces were staffed with the citizens that came from far away places and were not of the same race with the citizens they had to control. For instance, in the central part of Russia or Ukraine, they would employ troops coming from the Caucasus or Central Asia. Yet, in Central Asia, they may employ the Ukrainians or the Georgians, Armenians or anyone else who was not from there. Divide and conquer. People did not understand each other did not know the customs, and hated each other’s guts. They were brutal when it came to be controlling the crowd and guarding a penitentiary. That was one of the reasons why everyone hated everyone else in the Soviet Union of universal brotherly love. Of course, there were more reasons, and all of them were based on racism. That’s how you divide and conquer. Yes, the socialist union was divided quite well and conquered without a doubt.

The Soviet-made bayonets and the AK-47s were perfect for the job. The Soviet tanks abstractedly “plowed” the fields of the peaceful nations that were called brothers. Was there the brotherly love somewhere? Anywhere… In the end, the locals, no matter where the locality was, lost time and time again, and that made them angrier and angrier. That anger had to go somewhere, and occasionally they said “NO.” And, the rules became tighter. It was not a healthy situation getting worse by the minute. Everyone was becoming enemy of everyone else and fast. The universal brotherly love was never there in the first place being weaponized with every opportunity the leaders had.

So, the President’s guards came from that experience and were brutal. Yet, they may have some Mongol blood. They spoke the language, well, some of it and knew some of the customs. But, they were loyal as they had to be. They could easily fit in, and no one had to know where they really came from. What difference did it make in the end? Finding the local Mongols with good useful military or, law enforcement experience was hard. And, the intelligence or secret service community did not exist at all. So, like many other things, these things had to come from the former Soviet Union or China. Thus, jobs were posted, and funds allocated. There was no shortage of “professionals” applying for those jobs and claiming the pay.

A good job was a luxury when your skills were on the limited side, and Mongolia was just fine. Where else would they go if they just came from there and there was nothing? How do you make a living if you have so little to sell, but they could sell the brutality that was in demand in some corners of the world? For them, Mongolia was better than Africa or the Middle East. It was safer, that’s for sure, and close to home. In short, it was more civilized. No matter what the others said, it was not too bad to have some Mongol blood. It paid.

“Doctor is on his way, Sir. He should be here very soon. Are you hurt? I am a trained medic. What can I do for you? Mr. President?” Announced the second security man talking to the microphone attached to his wristwatch while the third man was searching the bathroom and the closet. That one looked somewhat jumpy. They all looked like brothers, twins or even triplets and maybe they were. That did not matter, but they were good, and that mattered.

“There was something in the bed. Under the covers.” Cried out the President holding his ass with one hand and pointing at the bed with another. His face was as white as the bed sheets, totally drawn off blood and showing the deep agitation. He was terrified and full of pain. Actually, there was a little blood on his hand. Was it a snake? Was it poisonous? It was something with sharp teeth. Did someone put it in there? Was it a conspiracy to kill him, to attack the government? To overthrow the government… Was it a signal for an uprising? Who was that strong in opposition? Was it Chinese, the Russians? Americans? Why would Americans get involved that deep with such a small country in the middle of nowhere? Why, he was a good President, possibly the best. He did not do anything to anyone who did not deserve it. Well, he did not really do anything to anyone. He was corrupt to the gills, and that’s it. That was the accomplishment. This President did not get involved much with anything government, just standing aside, and the country was doing better and better.

“What the hell was it?” He screamed again. “Find it now. It could be a snake.”

“What snake, Mr. President?” The agent in charge was full of attention. “We do not have snakes in the capital. In the palace… Do we? Here? Hey, people!” He looked around the room and at the agents and the staff piling in the room. “Do you know anything about the snakes in the capital? Who does? Get that guy in. The Academy of science across the square. Call them now, and I mean now. I want a herpetologist or whatever they call it here and now. Who is not afraid of snakes? Step forward. You will handle it until the herpetologist gets in.”

“You, idiot!” Screamed the President Arban Vagabundi. “Someone, the opposition, the enemies of the state, may want to kill me using a snake. Could that be a foreign agent? A poisonous snake would be easy and convenient. Too convenient… It bites, poison and I am dead. The President is dead. In my own bedroom. The snake escapes or gets killed. Who cares. Untraceable. How could you miss it? Where were you all this time? Where is the doctor? Get the vaccine. Any of you could bring it in and put it in my bed. Do I really know any of you? Check the bed. Search the room. Search the entire house. Investigate everyone working in this building. My opposition. There are few smart asses there. It could be even my wife for all I know.” He was hysterical but still holding his ass tight. It was hurting. His ego was in pain, and that was clear. In his own bedroom.

“Your wife is not here, Sir.” Said the maid loudly sobbing in the corner. “She left a day ago. She could not have brought a snake. She was not here for a day already.” The poor girl was beside herself. Only a few hours ago (during the lunch), she was making love to the President and in that bed. If there was a snake, the snake could have bitten her as well. What kind of a career in the government would that be? She was distressed beyond the comprehension. She was distressed beyond the distress. That was so close, so upsetting. She was taking chances. Would that pay off? Anytime soon? She wanted to succeed. She had to succeed. She could not go back to the steppes just like that. No, who said that the career in government was easy? She may have to fight for it. Well, he promised, and she may get that position in the Ministry of Education. She liked the kids and had a University degree. The pay would be good and the social status — to die for. She could’ve died today if the snake bit her. No, no, that was too much, but what could she do. She just worked there, and he wanted sex. He was always horny and they, the servants, had to oblige. It was not her job “per se,” but how could she argue. Was it even possible? To argue… With the President… In Mongolia… What if he gets angry?

“My wife is a snake.” Slowly pronouncing every word said the President. “If she bites anyone, there is no antidote. The result is guaranteed. I’ve seen it. She is too mean for anyone to survive. And, the mother-in-law… She could poison a snake. Who else is absent from the palace? Is it only my wife? Who went over there with her? Guards… Driver… Maids… Who else?” The agents stopped doing whatever they were doing at the moment and looked at the President. Was he serious? Was there a conspiracy they could’ve missed?

“Don’t look at me, idiots. Check the bed. Lift the covers. Under the pillow. There, there. Use the swords from the wall. Do not get bitten yourselves. Under the bed. Check every centimeter of the room.”

Two agents cautiously lifted the bed covers using the swords from the wall display while the third one, the one in charge, aimed the gun at the center of the bed. He was ready to fire at whatever was hiding in there and threatening lives of the President and whoever was with him at the time. Anyone could be there with the President, and that was dangerous. There was silence full of the most profound tension.

“Guff. Guff, guff…” It was loud and too unexpected. Everyone, including the Secret Service Agents, jumped back and assumed the fighting stances. Oh, they were ready to fight. All of them working in the palace had training in martial arts. Some were good at it, and some were not that hot. Still, all knew how to use it. No matter what you did in the palace, the job description included fighting if needed.

“Guff, guff, guff.” That was coming from under the pillow now. The pillow moved, and the head emerged. The pillow moved more and the little Chihuahua — Batu Khan, jumped out bearing the small but very sharp saw-like teeth.

“Guff, guff, guff…” All present suddenly became still and quiet and looking in the same direction. That was the most important direction, the direction of the President’s ass. That was the first ass of the nation. They could see the newspaper headlines: “In the fight for supremacy, President Vagabundi lost to the Chihuahua dog Batu Khan. The dog bit the President in the ass, drawing blood. Heil to the dog!” Should they take the dog out and shoot? Should they torture it first? Would there be a hearing? Hearing of what? Hearing whom? The dog was guilty or was he. What was higher, the first dog or the first ass? Ass took the precedence. Could there be doubt there?

Who would even have thought of the Chihuahuas in the wilderness of Mongolia? In the steppes… Dogs should be dogs and not like this, no one knows what. Was it good eating? Has anyone tried it? What happened to the Wolves, Hounds, Sheppard dogs, the hunting dogs. The hunters… Those were the real friends of a man, and the man needed them, in good and bad times, always. Chihuahua… Nothing to look at and even that has a character. We live in dangerous times. We are in danger. The danger is just about everywhere. This is a violent beast. It just bit the President. What is next? Should the President bite it back? Genghis Khan probably would. Batu Khan probably would. Should they roast it on a spit and eat for breakfast? That’s what Genghis Khan would do. He was known for that and a few other things. To him, it would be an insult. Wrong message. No, Genghis Khan would not let it slip unless it was meant for laughs. They needed to laugh back then quite often. Was it funny? Sometimes. And, some people laughed if that was expected.

It was extremely uncomfortable to sit out there on the dog bitten ass and watch the sour faces of the comrades in arms (members of the government). He was looking at them, and the inner circle was looking back at him. What did they want? What happened again? Who the hell cares? That dog. The President changed the security detail right away. The old one let him down. Now, they have dogs in the Secret Service as well as people. Dogs should be counterbalanced by dogs and he, the President, made it clear today. No more bites the President in the ass, you, little nothing of a dog, Batu Khan. And, he thought he was being assassinated. He called his wife a snake, and it did not sound good. He was scared, and that did not look good either. Well, so what, she was a snake. She is the sneakiest snake in the palace and the most poisonous in the political world. After all, she was the first lady. What if she was the President? Would he be called the first man or the first husband? This was funny, and he smiled a little. It was not a real smile but a little twist of the lips yet, it was amusing. Let’s grant it, it was funny, and he could smile, but it was so uncomfortable to sit. He should’ve asked for another chair, but that would not look good either. Did they know what happened in the bedroom, with that dog? A weak Mongolian President? That was not acceptable, not in this country. He had to show that pain was nothing for him, he could take it. The old khans did. He was in charge, and that felt good despite the tickling and the uncomfortably itching pain in the ass. Some would say that it was only pain and a grown man could take it, but it was his pain. It was so annoying yet, he had to smile for the public. Yes, it was a show, was not it. Everything was for the show. What a life. Even the President had to be a showman. Would they applaud in the end or just bury him?

“Let’s start. Talk, people. Talk.” He was openly irritated. “If you don’t want to eat and drink, talk. I can’t sit here all day long. I have the country to run, and I am tired already. In case you do not know, I have some other pressing issues to attend.” He was thinking of going to bed and maybe grabbing on the way there that new chambermaid. She was great the other day. She had talent. This girl could go far in politics. He had to think it over. Did she say she was interested in education? Education was not that important when one had the assets she had. She would be much better elsewhere. In a year or so, he could transfer her to the Foreign Service. She would be great in the foreign relations capacity. With those assets… Mongolia needed some good negotiators to survive, and she was good. She could get better with proper training. They knew how to do that, the Russians taught them. The KGB girls were the best in the world. They trapped so many foreign dignitaries, anyone they wanted, anyone who was responding. One had to be dead and for a while not to respond to those girls. And, that included the Ministers, Secretaries, Senators, Congressmen, Members of the Parliaments, Generals, and the Presidents. How many spies were developed and how many patriots had betrayed their own countries, thanks to those girls. Yes, this girl had all makings of the KGB girls. The Russian dolls, is that what they called them? Why did they call them that? Oh, I remember, they had so many identities like the Russian nesting doll. That was good, smart. The KGB was the best there is. They really knew what they were doing and did not hesitate to do it. There was no false shyness in their approach. They were so natural. Show the power every time you can. Attack the friends so, the enemies would be afraid of you. Interestingly, they won a few battles, and they lost even more. Yet, every time they lost, they won only because someone else lost more. The world was afraid of them, and it still is. He needed to talk to someone from the former KGB. He thought that almost all the security and the intelligence personnel came from the KGB. Where else would they come from? Girls… Mongolian, Uzbek, Tajik, Kazakh, Chinese, Central Asian, exotic — that could be very attractive. That could be a great program for the Mongolian intelligence service. Train the girls for everyone and make some money for Mongolia. They could call it the “Charm School.” It sounds quite charming.

Did the Russians call it that already? OK. Let’s call it the “International Charm School.” It could be quickly done. We have many talents and just about everywhere. Yes, I like that. Everyone would like that. We need to push on every front just to get somewhere. Anything would help, but we need to train them well. Teach them to be anything the enemy may want them to be — a lady or a tramp. Mongolia needs help so, we must use whatever assets he could master to get it. These were difficult times, but they saw it before. Citizens should make great sacrifices for the country. More sacrifices. Good girl. Very bright. And, talented in all important departments.

“Mr. President. Mr. Vagabundi.” That was the Deputy Prime Minister Olaani. He was seated across, the table and slightly to the right. That was his regular place. In this room and at this table, everyone was seated following the rank, standing, importance, and anything else the President wanted to consider. This was the place where all of them could speak openly because they were responsible people, and the President was a reasonable man. Here they could discuss issues that were not discussed anywhere else, anywhere outside this room. There were many issues like that in any régime, and this one was not any different. It was just another government yet, it was their government. “Our archeologists just uncovered the burial chambers of Batu Khan, our great warrior and right next to him the burial chambers of Subutai Khan. To find that is like to find the burial chambers of Genghis Khan himself. Well, very close. The next best thing, I would say. This is a great discovery of our scientists. Great for the country, for the world. It was imperative from any point of view.” He started a cigarette and drank some strong herbal tea from a handless round blue and white porcelain cup called a Piyāla (piala) in all of Central Asia. This was the traditional tea service ware in Central Asia.

There were a few pialas in front of everyone present. One for tea, one for coffee and one for Kumis. Glasses were for water and the soft drinks. Also, there was plain and sparkling Russian and Italian water in bottles, the soft drinks from America, carafes with local tea and coffee, and some Kumis from the steppes. The beautiful old silver serving plates containing some sandwiches and fruits were placed on the side-table together with flowers. Flowers were so lovely and added something extra to this somewhat cold room. The President loved flowers, and they were always present but not on the conference table. The leaders being tough men liked to look into each other’s eyes and no obstruction, even the flowers, was tolerated. Still, flowers were a great touch. Why not? Were not they as civilized as the rest of the world? Possibly more…

The conference room was an excellent continuation of the luxury display throughout the Presidential palace but somewhat on the modern side. They were modern people, after all. The tables, couches and the chairs were of the contemporary style but with a Mongolian twist and exceptionally well made. Everything was so the top of the line, and it looked beautiful and impressive. Then, there were the national musical instruments so loved by the Mongols, mirrors in huge golden frames and a few paintings by the well-known Russian and Asian painters. A few ancient pikes, swords and shields attractively filled the emptiness between the mirrors and the paintings. That kind of authenticity had brought everything together and with the sense of purpose.

The room became less official but more meaningful, more threatening. In the corner, opposite of the main door was the flag of the republic on the sizeable golden staff with an eagle on top. The flag was made of silk, the best silk one could find. The modern Mongolian flag was adopted in 1992 while the basic flag was designed in 1940. Mongolia was part of China until it received its independence after a bloody uprising in 1921. Then, there was a very long period of heavy Soviet influence, and that dictated everything, even the colors of the flag. The younger Mongolian brothers had to respect and obey the older Soviet brothers and that included just about everything — the culture, the lifestyle, the thought, and the action. Still, the flag had two main colors where sky-blue was the country’s national color, and it did not change. The Soviets did not mind it, and the Mongols could keep that. And, the red color used in the flag once represented communism but today was representing progress. Times had changed, and even Mongolia was moving forward, and it had a long way to go. The Soviets had slowed it down so much, almost to a halt. Mongolia had to join the rest of the world, and it wanted it so much. And, there was no hidden motive. They really wanted to be friends with everyone. Well, where there’s a will, there’s a way. It was a slow process, but nevertheless, that was progress, and the Mongols worked very hard to achieve it. They gained only inches, but it was a forward movement.

The flag was guarded by two old-fashion mannequins dressed in full Mongol armor suits with all weaponry attributed to the Medieval times and so favored by the Mongols. They looked very alive and so fierce. If one did not know, one would take them for the real warriors that came through the time to protect new Mongolia and maybe they did. Was that Genghis Khan himself? Also, the flag was framed by the Tughs (banners) of the original Mongol clans: Karaites, Tatar confederation, Merkit confederation, Naimans, Ongud (White Tatars), Dughlat and the other smaller groups mentioned in Secret History of the Mongols. And, that was even more important than anything else. It was as the ancients were present listening to the conversation and approving your decisions. Was there a real link? Was that even possible? The Mongols believed it was. They could be right for all we know. All in all, that was an interesting nation.

The war Tughs (banners)

“Is that right? This is good. Great news. Where did they find it? I thought no one knew where neither Genghis Khan nor Batu Khan was buried. Even the grave of Subutai was a mystery. All graves of big people were hidden well. They wanted to preserve it, and they did. We could not find even the slightest hint where it could be. I wish we could keep secrets like that now. So, where was it, and how did you find it?” That was exciting. Why did he have the feeling that there was more, and it was not good? “Did they find the treasure? What exactly did they find? Do we know for sure that it was THEM? How do we know that? Very interesting. Please, go on. Do you have any pictures?”

“It was found under the Mamai Kurgan, Sir, on the River Don bank. You know, the place of the last big battle between the Russians and the Mongol Horde. The burial chambers were actually a few feet below the Kurgan, predating the Kurgan. Why? We don’t know that yet. Why they buried Batu Khan and Subutai on the Don River bank instead of the Volga River bank where the Golden Horde was is still a big mystery. But, we are working on it, Mr. President. There could be some magical or religious attraction to that site. After all, it was almost a thousand years ago, and they kept burying more Mongols on the same site. You know, the huge burial mount left after the last big battle between the Russians and the Mongols. There were thousands buried there, layer after layer. Did they plan to protect Batu Khan, and Subutai after death? Was there a threat? You know, Tsar Dimitry, the son of the Russian Tsar Ivan I, the Kalita (the bag), refused to pay the tribute and raised the army to fight Khan Mamai. Mamai was one of our last great Khans if you remember your history. That was the beginning of our downfall. Dimitry’s father, Tsar Ivan I, the Kalita, was cheating the Tatars for a while collecting all taxes, if not more but keeping some of the tributes for himself. He was the official tribute collector, but the Tatars were too far to oversee that and too careless to check it. They had plenty and thought it was enough. Tatars were too busy fighting each other, and whoever else was in the middle of their fights. In short, they let the guard down, and the Russians used it and quite well. They united some tribes and assembled the impressive army. The Russian army happened to be well trained, big, and strong. They knew all our tactics by then and used it against us. Strange times, won’t you say so. Tsar Ivan the Kalita took chances, but he also pocketed the rewards. Smart. He was one of the smartest Russian Tsars, and there were not too many of them as history tells us. Tsar Ivan I, the Kalita, became the richest Russian Tsar of the middle ages. He’s done it well. Later, his son Dmitry had weaponized the money using it to build the Kremlin castles throughout the country and to train the regular military. They called it “DRUZHINA,” and it actually had thousands in the service by the time of the battle with Khan Mamai and then, the volunteers. Mamai missed the entire thing and then, lost the empire.

Druzhina was well paid, exceptionally well trained, and armed to the teeth. Entirely possible that it was the beginning of the regular military in Russia managed by, the Tsar. They had it ever since. Also, Dimitry did not employ the Boyars neither to train not to lead the troops. And, that was smart. He preferred the commoners that advanced through bravery and experience. He had some good people there, many good people. Also, loyalty was important on every level. Dimitry saw the positive results just about everywhere, and he built on it. That is how the Tatars and Mongols of Khan Mamai lost control over Russia. We were, still raiding Russia for another two hundred years more, but it was not the same. Then, after Ivan IV, the Terrible, we were pushed back to Crimea, and even that was over in the 18th century.

Good old times. How did we do it? It was not too many of us in the first place, but we had Genghis Khan. Was any other conqueror bigger than he was? Conquering so much and controlling it for so long. No, Alexander the Great and the Romans were not even in the same league. It was the most fascinating story. Let me tell you more.”

That was one of the Cabinet Ministers who used to be the university history professor. He was probably one of the most educated Cabinet Ministers but not so strong in politics or real life. He also was liberal, and that did not fit well with the conservative administration. There was strong government control, but not in a liberal way. So, he oversaw education and anything scientific. He did that well considering the budget or the lack of it. He often complained but so what. Who did not complain about everything? Was that even possible?

“There were two huge armies, thousands of people and the Tatars were almost twice more than the Russians. Mamai Khan had brought over a half of the Horde, and the Russians had almost every one they had. There was not too many of them, but they were impressive. Dimitry had done a great job choosing, training, and arming them. Most of them were huge. But, was that the point of the display? Maybe. Did they have any secret weapons? No, that was the secret weapon, and they had funds. They were good and trained in somewhat modern techniques. And, the Russians somehow won. They say, and I confirm that Tsar Dimitry later called Donskoi for the battle, was very smart.” He was getting ready to deliver a lecture on the subject, but the Prime Minister interrupted him in time.

“Well, after the battle, they buried all the dead, the Russians, and the Tatars alike, in the great mount called the Mamai Kurgan, on the bank of River Don. This is really huge, and many people were buried there. Maybe it was the largest burial mount of this type. I am not certain for one hundred percent, but it looks that way. What do you think, professor? Many people tried to dig the Mamai Kurgan, but it was so huge, a mountain and the Soviet government did not like the idea. They were not sure what was there and did not want to take a chance on history. Soviet history was so unpredictable at times. That could’ve been a huge chance, and the Soviets did not like chances. Chances could be costly, financially, and politically. So, no chances for the Soviets.”

“So? You could have told me all that during the regular briefing. Why are we here, people?” The President was interested in the story, but clearly, he was still very agitated after the night events. That happened just a few hours ago, and the Kulikovo Battle with the Mamai Kurgan occurred almost seven hundred years ago. So, the last night was largely more vital to him than the Mamai Kurgan, Khan Mamai, Batu Khan and everyone else. All that could wait for a little longer. It was there for seven hundred years already and did not go anywhere. It would be there for a while longer. Afterward, after that dog bit him, he did not sleep all night long, but the dog did and quite well. What a creature. That dog reminded him of his wife and, the snakes also did.

“Well, there is more, Mr. President.” Slowly stated the Prime Minister Albagdrorj. “We found the memoirs of Batu Khan recorded by a servant. Who knew that Batu kept the memoirs? This document was badly damaged, but there is still enough to follow his train of thoughts. This is a shocking document, and we are not certain what to do with it. It could change our history considerably. It could change world history for all we know. Many things described there are not what we thought happened. We should do something. Maybe we should hide it and not publish. What do you think? For sure, we should study it carefully. Every single word… This is the biggest find ever. This is entirely too much. What do you think? Mr. President?” The Prime Minister was clearly sincere in the thoughts and full of confusion, and uncertainty.

“What could be there that we did not know? We know they were the butchers and we know how they killed and how many. We know of the slaves and the rapes, pillaging, and everything else. We even know of the mounts of cut-off heads Batu and Subutai used to pile up after the battles. So many harrow stories… So much horrifying truth in it. We know all that, and the world knows all that. We do not have to be ashamed of anything. We did not do that, they did. The Germans topped it off during the last war. The Crusaders, for god’s sake, did all that. The Muslims still do it all the time, and with a lot of pride. They attribute it to God’s will. So, why are you getting so shy and girlish all of a sudden?” The President was smiling, gesticulating the question with his hands and the eyes. The palms of his hands were open, facing up and stretched out. That was somewhat universal, meaning peace, no harm meant, calm down, and let’s keep talking. He could never understand those politicians, who had no honor by definition but suddenly was getting so honorable on him. That was something. What the world was getting to? What the politicians were getting to? Honorable politicians? How is that? What a pile of crock that was. That truly was the contradiction of terms as far as it goes. He knew it; he was the leading politician who led them.

“Now, tell me what bothers you and the others, Prime Minister. Talk; don’t dance around. Time is critical, and I do not have much.”

“Well, I have a copy of the report here. It sounds that Batu Khan, Subutai and almost all his court were converted to Judaism at one point. Yes, Judaism and not Islam or any other religion. They liked it and promoted it openly rewarding people for converting and never punishing anyone for not converting. You remember, Timur the Lame did almost the same thing. There was no forced conversion, and Jews were promoted. Batu, Subutai and Tamerlane were running a society very tolerant of religion and all customs building on that instead of destroying anything. That seems to be the reason why they were so successful and in such a short time. They offered people friendship first, no matter what you were and if you refused it, only then, they conquered you. They said the Jews, the Khazars, taught them that. They were Jews, Mr. President and Batu kept talking about. Also, it reveals the plan to convert the entire nation of Mongols and as many associate clans as possible into Judaism, and many were converted. We don’t know how many though, but it sounds like a lot. That part of the text is missing, but it could be a lot, and there was no pressure of any type. People liked it somehow. We may find it yet. I mean the numbers. We have not checked everything yet. There is more and could be even more than that. But, it looks like almost all Mongols were converted, and some of the Tatars were not. First, Subutai and then, Batu Khan died. We do not know how far they went converting the Horde. You see, Mr. President, we are Jews, and we did not know that. We had no idea, and now we do. How did we lose all that information? Where? What else we do not know? What a mess. Did you ever hear anything like that? What a mess, what a mess. Is that a joke? Wake me up; it could be a bad dream.”

“What are you saying?” The President drained a large piala of kumis in one huge gulp. That was good. It helps, and he needed that.

“We are Jews, Mr. President and we have been Jews ever since the middle of the 13th century. All our ancestry was Jewish, and we have the Jewish blood too. Well, not all but most of us. The pure Mongols do.” Now, the Prime Minister was thirstily drinking kumis. The rest of the people in this semi-modern semi-traditional Mongolian conference room designed for close conferences of the inner circle of the administration were quiet being rooted in the thoughts. These were dense and dark thoughts. What did they think about? Were they thinking of the grandmothers and their Jewish cooking? The matzo balls? The Gifilte fish? The kosher anything? Their grandmothers and even their great grandmothers did not know that they were supposed to cook that and kept cooking the foul-smelling Mongolian stuff and drinking kumis with the meat. Oh, gevolt! Were they bad Jews? Now what? Would they go to hell? They’ve been to hell already with the Russians and the Chinese. And the Japanese added a very twisted twist to it. Could they recover the situation somehow? Who would know what to do? Where to find that one? There were no Jews in Mongolia. Were there? Do we know any? Are they real? Are we really Jews? Us… The Mongols? People in this room were as pure Mongols as they come. What does it mean — Jews?

“Where did the Jewish blood come from?” The President could not swallow it without a fight. It was too much to swallow, to begin with, and the fight, the resistance, the asking questions, could break it down to the smaller pieces, to the pieces easier to digest. But, even the smallest piece would be too hard to swallow. Those pieces could be multifaceted and sharp and full of hooks. “Do we know anything about that, the Jewish blood? Where did it come from, and how? Why? What do we know about that? Is there anything concrete?”

“All we know from the text that in 1242 or so, Batu Khan met a woman of the great beauty and married her in a few months after that. After that marriage, he dismissed all concubines. Batu was in love with his bride for the rest of his life. Well, he died soon after she did. She was Jewish, Khazar and of the royal family. We do not know much about her, but she lived with him in the Golden Horde. Somewhere in the 1250s. Then, she went to visit her relatives in Central Asia and died from an unknown sickness. Now, we think that he maybe died of grief and the loneliness. We know that he died in 1255. All that corresponds to what we know quite well. A very tragic story, I may add. We are still working on the dig and the diary. We may find more. Now, that we know this, we should revisit the burials of women of that period. We may find more about here. If she was royal and married to Batu Khan, there should be something somewhere. We just have not linked it yet. We did not know, and now, we have the missing pieces. What a headache. It should be fun for our scientists, but how do we tell them? What about the international, scientific community? We would become the laughing stock. Maybe we should talk to the Israelis? They could find it interesting and help us. Oh, we just went with the Russians on the anti-Semitic spree, and the Israelis were not happy. That was stupid, but we needed the Russians. Another big mistake. We always lose with Russians. Everything related to Russia is a big and costly mistake. We need to think it over and find the excuse to flip and get closer to the Jews. It always works better. They are close to Americans, and the British, and that would work for us very well. That could be very helpful.” The Prime Minister had some more kumis, just to calm the nerves down. It was a sensitive situation, and the President went for the Bourbon. Even at this hour, it was appropriate considering the situation. Time was just irrelevant when it came to stress, and this was stressful. They all were drinking something by now. They were not the drinking bunch but the circumstances, despite the early morning, called for it and they followed the call. That was a very unexpected turn of events. What a mess.

“What do we know about her? Him? Them? What about their life together? Did we know anything about that before this new document? Subutai was a part of all that. Did he mention anything like that anywhere, at any time? How involved was he? Did they have children?” Everyone looked at the Prime Minister like he was a member of that family and knew all relatives. However, it seemed that he knew more on the subject than the rest of them. Everyone, but the President, were briefed before this meeting but the Prime Minister either understood it better or knew more. It was always like that.

“We don’t know much about her. Almost nothing. Not yet, but we know they had children. The known surviving descendants of Batu Khan were from her. We do not know of any children before her. Most likely, he had some girls, and that is why it was not listed anywhere. Considering the size of our nation and the number of years passed, we are all related in one way or another and, therefore, she was one of our ancestors. Of most of us. It sounds as we all Jews to some degree due to her participation. No, we are not full-blooded Jews, but who knows what happened after that. There could be more Jews in our bloodlines. Don’t forget the Khazars and how close all khans were to them. Most likely every khan had a Khazar wife or two and so did the average Mongols. It looks like the Jews were the integrated part of the Mongolian nation for centuries, and we all carry their genes. Of course, some of us have more of it and some less, but we have it, and this document confirms and guarantees it. We have Jewish blood.”

The President noticed some heads going up and down in total agreement. He also noticed that they had a drink or two already and it was still too early for that. It was too early for anything. He rarely drank before five in the evening, but kumis did not count. It was just milk, well, fermented, but still, milk. One could drink milk for breakfast. They all were knowledgeable people and clearly understood the consequences of this discovery. This was very serious. No one wanted to be a Jew, not willingly. It was like a widely expressed but so unpopular opinion. Well, the Christians and the Christian monks did an outstanding job of it. They made the Jews the evil shifting the blame of their own evilness. They were spinning the fairytale into a new religion, so the scapegoat was needed to support the tale. That’s where the Jews were made to play the role of a villain. Now, if you were a Jew, no one wanted to join you, and everyone had something against you. After all, you were evil. No one knows why, but that was a millennia-old notion. Oh, God, what have we done? What have we done? We are the Mongols and not the Jews. We have been that way for as long if not longer than the Jews were Jews. The President caught himself, almost saying that. Was he turning into a Jew already? That was scary. He may need another drink.

“But, we know something? What?”

“Well, there is a theory. Only a theory yet. You may remember back in the early seventies the Russians were digging somewhere around the Karakorum and found a burial of a woman. It was a very rich burial, and the Russians thought that it was a burial of a Bedouin Chieftain wife or a daughter. Yet, it was too rich and at the same time well hidden from the simple people. It did not really fit the pattern, but still, the theory was accepted. The Afghans claimed the find and the exquisite jewelry and decorations were moved to Kabul and being kept there. The Afghans did their best to protect this treasure; the gold and the precious stones survived the Taliban. Do you recall how they were hiding it together with the paintings and some artifacts behind the false wall in the National Museum? They actually fooled the Taliban. It was the national treasure, and some people risked their lives to guard it. Well, some people died. There was a story of the false wall and a secret room with no entrance constructed in the museum basically overnight and the most important artifacts hidden behind it. They put the precious stuff in and sealed the wall. No one knew it but a few trusted people that guarded it with their lives. There were numerous paintings and some historically and culturally important stuff. All behind the false wall. The Taliban had no idea. That’s how the Afghans protected whatever they could protect and save. Good people. Brave people. Gutsy move. Very heroic. Being arrogant and not well educated, the Muslim fanatics never knew about missing it and many other things. They did not even know that those things existed. Taliban and the Mullahs were not really into art, science or even the museum going. Fortunate for the world, they were and still are uneducated idiots. That’s the religious fanatism for you. Do you recall that story? I was fascinated by it.”

“So, do you think she was the one? Was there anything in that jewelry to support that?” The President looked tired and uncertain. He was unshaven, restless, and wanted to go to sleep and maybe to eat something light. He sized the sandwiches on the side table and turned away. No, he could not eat, not now. Food was nauseating him. Just an hour ago, he was so well groomed and upbeat. What had happened to change him so much? Whatever happened to the President happened to the other people in the room as well. Something dark was laying on their shoulders so heavily. They all looked tired, used up, beaten down and somewhat older now. It was not easy to digest that information. No one there wanted to be a Jew. Why should they? It was so hard to accept. In Mongolia… It was like in the children game of the Cowboys and Indians — no one wanted to be an Indian. The Indians were going to lose anyway and who wanted to be a loser. Be a cowboy and win! That’s the ticket. The cavalry would save soon enough you if you were in trouble. That’s what they did. They would come in the end. They waited for you to get in trouble and then, they came and killed everyone around but you. So, everyone pretended that Indians just left or were coming soon. That worked and well. Then, no one had to be the one. Why was it? Was there a real reason for that or just a perception? How did the Jews get into it? Batu Khan, the conqueror of Europe and Subutai — a warlord known for his thirst for blood, actually was not what we thought they were. In truth, they were just the neighborhood Jews.

A servant that doubled as a security officer cautiously opened the door. There was somewhat unusually quiet in the room, and he wanted to see if anyone wanted anything. He had to know what was going on and then, to report if needed. That was his other job. The kitchen was open, and he could make anything the leaders would require. They had all kinds of food in the kitchen, and he was a good cook, but there was a professional cook as well. That department was always staffed well. Did they want anything? Was there anything at all? He saw the dark, tired faces and felt the tension that could be cut with a Mongolian sword so shrewdly displayed on the walls. In short, it was quite gloomy in the most significant conference room of the Mongolian capital. This was the place where the utmost important leaders of the country made the decisions on what to do and what not. Often, they made no decisions, but the room was still significant. Making decisions was not necessary for the room, but the room was essential for making decisions. This time, for the first time, the servant saw the indecision, the confusion, the shock, and the scare. Were they scared of something? He did not know what and was afraid to find out. His time to know will come soon enough. Thus, he just slowly closed the door, trying not to disturb anyone even with the slightest clatter. Something massive was going on, and he better stayed away from it.

“The scroll mentions her name — Ratchel from the House of Kogan. As far as we know, they were rich and powerful. That family had the royal blood of the Khazar Kings and lived in the area of Buchara. Probably it was inside the city walls. Still, there were some Jewish settlements outside the city walls, all around. We are not too sure. It is hard to say for sure. But, it sounds that they were well-to-do people and probably lived in the city. Rachel and Batu had four children: Boruch, Hannah, Adel, and Haim. These are the prominent Jewish names. Also, we know that after Ratchel died, in a few years, Batu sent the children with 100 slaves and 100 soldiers from his personal guard to Buchara to stay with Ratchel’s family. They carried a substantial treasure with them to be spent on the children. The house of Kogan agreed to take the children and be responsible for them for as long as it took. Batu Khan died approximately within a year after that, and we know that he had four legitimate children and many that he never acknowledged. That is all we know, but again, this is very new information, and we did not have enough time to check thousands of other documents and references that may bring some light on the subject. I am sure we can find more and more if we look. Then, we could connect the dots, the information. Now that we know this, we can put the pieces together. It would be hard, but possible. It is not the hardest project we ever had. Fascinating story — so old and so new somehow. What do you want us to do? We can dig deeper and find all we can, or we can bury all of it before it became known. I do not know. I am not sure either way. What a headache.” The Prime Minister looked around the room searching for answers from his comrades in responsibilities. No one spoke. No one knew. No one wanted that responsibility. It was too much to carry around, but one could not put it down. Whatever the President decided they would push forward or not if there were a choice. They could criticize the decision but quietly.

“Keep it top secret for now. I want a complete media blackout for now. And… Dig deeper. We want to know everything. We may need it one day no matter what the decision is. If we must go that way, we may have to change the name of our nation. We may become the Jewish Nation of Mongols or the Mongolian Nation of the Jews. This is big. Bigger than big. Gigantic. I would say, it’s of the biblical proportions. I never read the Bible, but it sounds that way. This is too wild to comprehend. This is a mess of the Biblical proportion. That’s for sure. We need time. We may need a lot of time. We have to think it through and very carefully. What a mess, what a mess…” The President got up and left the room limping. Oh, that dog Batu Khan.

President Vagabundi

Some time passed slowly by. Well, it passed slowly by for some and went like a rocket for the others. It was always like that with time. Tick-tack; tick-tack… And it’s gone. Time was time, and no one knew what it had on its mind, even at the time. It did what it wanted, and all we could do was to comment on it. Did anyone listen to our complaints? That’s a big question. That’s a big issue. Who was there to listen? Then, what’s the point to complain. Whom are you going to complain? What do you think will change? What do you want to change? For President Vagabundi time passed by like the fastest missile, ultra-ultra-sonic. It did not even slow down to say “HI” or “GOODBY.” Maybe time did not have time for foolishness like that. “HI” — “GOODBY,” so what? The President worked, and he played with all the concubines and a few more. That’s what he had time for. He fought with the wife and her mother, and he held the country together and somewhat prospering. Yes, we have to give it to him, the country was prospering. Often, he felt like a great juggler capable of working with a hundred different balls, big and small, going up and down. Yet, sometimes, it was too fast even for him. He could throw them up, catch them and hurl them again without missing one or dropping one on the floor. Well, of course, he missed but not too often. Anyone could miss once in a while so, he did it too but never in a big way. Not much of it was even noticed. That’s what he thought, no, that’s what he knew. He was good and all-powerful. And, despite all that, the economy of the country kept going up but mostly down. There were days and even weeks when something was pushing it up and quite high, but then, a crash and they were again back to the square one. The economy needed a strong shoulder to lean on, but the shoulder was not there, not in the play. The great Mongolian steppes were hastily filling up with more and more people preferring the old nomadic ways to live in apartments and work at the factory. They did not care about the money much. Money meant very little in the steppes and did not nest at the factory. Money traveled the Silk Road and rested in the steppes. Horses, camels, sheep, and knowledge of the steppes were more important than anything else there. When one was hungry, he could hunt the wild game or butcher an animal from the herd. One could always exchange with a farmer whatever he had, a sheep or a horse, for the bags and bags of vegetables, fruit, and grain. Barter was coming back as the way of life, but the country could not live like that, not today. It was sliding back to the time before time, and that was dangerous. Where would it stop? You could become weak, and the strong would come alone and conquer you. They knew it too well. It happened before and way too often. The country needed the money, and the factories failed to produce it. The factories failed to materialize. Without the Soviet support, the industry was no more, and the small shops with individual craftsmen could not feed the country. That was not enough, and more had to be done. Things like foreign investments, natural resources, big projects, and an army of professionals had to be infused into the present social order. But how? Who could put all that together and produce the results? The President did not know anyone who even could think in those categories. Was Mongolia empty of this kind of brains? Was there a knowledge void of some sort? They had them before — the Great Khans, great accomplishments. Did all of them leave the country? How to get them back? How to attract the right people and make it work? What to offer? What would it take? Just a few days ago, he spoke over the phone with the President of Uzbekistan and a few days before that, with the President of Kazakhstan. All three were friends ever since the University. They attended the same Alma Mater (the University of Tashkent) and at the same time and were the original three musketeers razing hell every chance they got. Later, one became a doctor, another — an engineer, and the third one joined the security apparatus of his respected country. All three came from the political class and eventually, went back to be a part of the political class. That’s where the power was. With time, they ran up the ladder and took place right on the top. Now, they were the political class, and they controlled it. They became the Presidents but still, very close friends. Now, they were planning a fishing trip together and were discussing the best place for that. It would be nice to go away, just three of them, no wives but maybe the girlfriends. It was not an easy arrangement but something to think about. After all, they were the Presidents, but, in Central Asia, they could control the media as anything else. In short, they were the Khans. The media was a part of the government and worked for them anyway. And wives? Wives were raised in Central Asia and knew the ways of life there. No one had an open harem any longer, but, it was still there, behind the closed doors, somewhere. The discussion of the fishing trip turned into a discussion of the economy and the current events. They were close friends and were quite open discussing many things. The real state of affairs was one of many of those things. Yes, it was the same in every country. After the Russians left, things started to fall apart and fast. It was almost like the Roman Empire after the Roman Empire seized to exist and to enforce the rule through power. No, it was not the medieval period, but it was not the renaissance either. Everyone was going back to where they thought they came from. Every nation was trying to reinvent itself and go back to the roots but, so much changed and no one knew the roots anymore. What were the real roots? How was it really, not the movie version, not what the grandmothers told them. So, they did whatever they thought was the roots and the customs. The tribe leaders and the local rulers have emerged, and the nomad life was more and more attractive with every passing day. Work a little, play a little and rest a lot. It was becoming universal. Many went to Russia to make a living because that’s where the factories were, and some of them still work. They worked anywhere where the cheap labor was needed, but the locals hated them so much. The locals needed jobs as well. That is why crime against the migrants was high, and the laws did not protect them much. “Migrants, Go Home!” was the common slogan just about everywhere but the home was far and not offering much. They would love to go back home, to the families, to what they loved, but they needed jobs, the way to earn a living. If only something changes at home. Money was the name of the game so, with no money, nothing was going for them. It was tough, but the leaders had no answers, not yet. Maybe they were working on that. However, even the most corrupt leaders heard the stories and had the feeling and wanted to help the less fortunate, especially if they were your own. Everyone deserved a good break, and why not. Now, was the time. It was becoming crucial by the minute. After all, in such a small country with so closely knitted society, even the lowest laborer could be your cousin.

“Are you all here, comrades?” The room was full of the highest members of the government. They did not look happy but tired and preoccupied with not very pleasant thoughts. No section of the government was doing well, so, the mood of the leaders was kind of dark. Some were doing a little better than the others but not by much. Money was needed, jobs, tourism, crafts, factories, big constructions, export, and the small businesses should be more significant than a bakery, a butcher shop, or a five-tables teashop. And, no matter how you slice it, none of it was in the cards. There was no local initiative, and the foreign investments were still foreign, and far away. No expatriates were coming back from America or Western Europe and starting a successful business back home. Expatriates were coming back from America or Western Europe and going back to the steppes to lead the lazy life and drink a lot of kumis. It did not look like Mongols were business savvy or even interested in that. It did not look like they even cared. The President could see the worry and the deep disappointment in everyone’s eyes. He knew that they tried their best yet, they failed in keeping the country afloat. Mongolia was sinking and fast, and no one knew where the bottom was or how it looked. Yet, they were rushing to the bottom just to see who would get there first. Even the top government officials could not bail out in time. Some could not bail out at all. The dead weight was too heavy. An economic boost was needed urgently, now but no one knew how to create one. What do you do? What did the others do? When? How? So, the mood was gloomy, but even the light at the end of the tunnel could not help. There was no light anywhere but a very dark tunnel with no end. It was dark, empty, and depressing.

“How is the economy now? Tell me the truth, please.” The President could not be soft now; not to them and not to himself. How would that help?

“Our economy is at the lowest, Mr. President.” That was the Prime Minister taking the first blow. “We cannot meet any of the payments, and the debt becomes deeper and deeper. There is an interest, you know. Soon, it would be as big as the obligation itself. You know, the Russian payment, the World Bank payment, the International Monetary Fund, and a few others. We cannot collect taxes because half of the country is in the steppes and they don’t work. So, what taxes can we collect? It cost us more to go after these people that we could get from them. We have no tourism now, and we do not sell anything to the West. We have no hard currency, and our currency is worthless. We cannot sell any of our natural resources; we do not have the miners. We could hire some migrant workers, but we have nothing to attract them. We cannot offer good money or even decent living conditions. They do not take what we offer. It is not enough even by the lowest international standards. The Minister of Industry was working on a plan to lease out our copper mines and some other wells and mines to the Japanese and the Germans. Everyone liked the plan, but we have to provide the workers. They do not want to bring the workers from the oversees. That is too expensive for them. If they do, they will not pay us enough to like the plan. They will provide the management though, the machinery and the marketing and we have to provide the mines and the miners. Good deal for us but we failed to deliver. We need to attract migrant workers to make it work. What do we offer? We have nothing, and they make more money even in Russian not mentioning the West. Everyone wants to work in the West, legally or not. Mostly illegally… Even the illegals there make more money than we could offer.”

“What if we bring over the workers from Russia, China, Kazakhstan, Kalmykia, and the other former Soviet Republics? They have a very high unemployment rate. The migrant labor there left a lot of local without work. That’s universal now. What if we bring their families too? Well, not right away but we could promise that. That could be like an extra incentive.” That was the Minister of Labor.

“We had considered that as well. The problem is that these people will cost much more, and the difference will come out of our end. Western companies are interested in us only because of the labor cost. Our natural resources are not that unique. They would not spring for anything additional. What they are saying that the expenses are too high already because of our location and, therefore, transportation and the machinery they will have to bring over and use. Think of the professionals from the west, managers, etc. Because of our location and the lack of everything, our natural resources are more expensive even before you apply the labor. If we had our own people, we would not have to pay for relocation and all additional perks. The project would be extremely profitable using our own people and almost a losing proposition if we bring the migrants in mass. Well, we can still use some. We can maintain the project profitable with up to 15 percent migrant labor but not much more. We need about five thousand miners of our own. We used to have them back then, but they all left to where the jobs were.” The Prime Minister shifted in his chair and lighted a cigarette. He was eyeing the bottle of Cognac on the side table but controlled himself. It was not the right time, but a drink or two could help. It would not solve anything but may help. It would be like a cup of tea for the British. It does not help, but they would drink it in the middle of the Plaque. The reasoning was that it would not hurt either.

“The cost of labor, in our case, would offset all the profits, and then some. Considering all that, in the end, our natural resources could be about 25% less expensive than, let us say, in America. We will get 10–15% and they would take a tidy profit of about 10%. This is nice. These 10–15% of our share could be enough to jump-start and support our economy. Also, some business people would be coming over for meetings, negotiations, discussions, etc. We would get a nice chunk of the revenue and pull the country up by the boot-straps, but we need the workers first. How to attract them with what we have? That’s where we need the ideas.”

“What can we do to facilitate that, Prime Minister? Short of money, of course. What else we can do?” The labor Minister was full of anticipation. He was a good, honest man with a clean record of taking orders and following them but, he was not the idea of generating giant. He was not even the idea generation dwarf. Actually, the Minister had never done anything if that was not proposed and approved by the others. He had no thoughts or was afraid to present them, and that was about the same. He was a man no one would notice even in the company of one. No matter how you slice it, the result was the same — no ideas. But, he was a good man and bribes were not his game. He never had much to share, but he would have if he had anything to share. He could’ve been honest, and that was rare.

“We have to have thousands of workers ready to work here for less than $200 per month. That was all we could afford now. With time, we would improve the production and cut the number of people may be by 25% paying about $500 per month to the remaining ones. That would be good. Yes, in China and in the former Soviet Republics we could find people ready to work for that, but then, we would have to bring them over and to house them. Also, we would have to feed them at least once a day at the mine. In addition to that, we have to provide them with at least two weeks’ vacation and a round trip ticket home or wherever they were going. If we do that, they will cost us additionally more than $200 per month each. If we don’t do that, the workers will not come (not in the right numbers and of the proper qualification). We need people that know something of mining. The Ministry of Industry had calculated all that plus the medical and the social services for them while they are here at about $60 per person a month. And, if you multiply it by about five thousand people, it becomes enormous. This would eat up our profits from the operation, making it useless. We do not want to waste our natural resources for nothing. We had been robbed before by the Chinese and the Russians. We have to sell our natural resources at the best possible price but not to give it away for nothing. We simply could not afford it, my friends. We may get some good people but not nearly enough. Yes, we could raid the prisons and use the military, but that would not solve the problem. It could make it worse. Or, it would improve it just a little. How many good people can we find that way? In prisons… A few hundred or more likely, a few dozen. Then, you need to guard the prisoners. There should be something, but I can’t put my figure on it. Do you have any better ideas?”

“Mr. Prime Minister! Do you remember a while back we had a discussion right here, right in this room? All of us were present. We discussed the discovery of the Batu Khan and Subutai’s burial chambers below the Mamai’s Kurgan if I remember correctly. Was it on River Don?” The President was talking, and he was all business. He had to be all business. What else was there at present? It was a terrible time to fool around, and he did not, not lately. Even the chambermaid was moved to the Ministry of Education, and he barely saw her. He could lose everything, including the nation, and that was not a good idea.

“Yes, I remember, Mr. President. Of course, I remember. The research is not completed yet, but we have him, I mean Batu’s, notes translated to the modern language. A large part of these notes, memoirs if you will, is missing but whatever is available, makes it quite interesting. I am reading it for a few days now. You see, the part of the parchment it was written on, was badly damaged or just disintegrated. But, the modern techniques would allow us to pull some of the text out even from the damaged pages. Fascinating stuff. They can actually do that. Can you imagine that? If you like, I can send you a copy. It does a fascinating reading. But we have not traced the bloodline as of yet. Our scientists are up to fifteen or sixteen-century already. After that, it should be somewhat easier, but it will take more time. We do not have too many scientists capable of doing this work, and the foreigners come at the price we can hardly afford.”

“Yes, send me a copy. And, please, let me know how the bloodline research goes. This is all so interesting. With regards to the mines: start the recruiting process. See how many people you can recruit here in Mongolia and all these places we discussed before. Don’t try to go after all mines at once. Try to figure out what would give us the most benefits and outfit only that for now. Then, offer that for the lease to the Japanese or whoever else could be interested. Don’t give anything to the Russians. They will ruin the mines as they did it in Russia. They don’t know the business, and they are dishonest. Stay away from them. Try to work with the Japanese, Germans, or better yet, Americans.

Well, I am not sure that the Americans will come but talk to them anyway. What do we have to lose? See if you can spark their interest somehow. Instead of trying to get everything going, let’s try to get something going. Something is better than nothing. Am I right? What do they want more? Copper? Also, see if you can get some other industries going using the same approach. Maybe leather goods? If we cannot get our people to work in our factories, we have to find a cheap source of labor somewhere else. The former Soviet Republics should be a good place.

Don’t go to the big ones like Russia, Ukraine, and Belorussia. We cannot afford that. Go to Buryatia, Mordovia, Bashkiria, Kyrgyzia, etc. The smaller the republic is the bigger problems they have and the more receptive to our proposals they would be. There are our little money could look like a huge sum. They live on a few dollars a month, and we can pay a hundred and give them a place to live and some food. And, more would come later. I am sure of that. Promise the raises, every year. The enterprise would grow to offer more to those who were there at the beginning. They would get raises first. Think about that. It could be sold well, but you have to package it right. The concept is there, and it’s workable. Prisons? You may find a few good people in prisons. Offer them a workable deal, and they may go for it. If the deal is right and they want to reinstate themselves in society, we would not need to guard them. They would be on parole, conditionally released from the prison with a chance to go free if they honor the promise. If they fail, we would add a few more years to the sentence. It was done before and worked almost every time. Even Columbus used the prisoners for sailors. Military? We can use some military expertise and the talent for some technical stuff like guarding, construction, mechanics, driving, warehousing, computers, logistics, and supplies. They know all that well, and we are paying them already. We would not need to pay them anything else but some extra expenses while they are working in the field.

So, between all these sources, you may get a few hundred good people if not more. And, if we dig deeper, we may find more, enough for one or a few mines. Then, when it’s going, and we are making some money, you can start shopping overseas. That would be like an investment to widen up the operation. We brink more people, we open more mines, we make more money and jump-start the rest of the country. It looks more like a good plan, does not it. Work on it. There should be more, and you may find it. Be innovative. I know, we have never done anything like that before, but now is the time.”

The President got up and slowly left the room. He thought that his answer was the right one. Why did he feel so? The logic of it was right there, right in front of him. Somehow, he could see it all so clearly. Why these Ministers, well-known professionals, could not see it? Did they see it but did not speak? Did they understand it? What good did they do if they could not see the options like that? He could see the necessity of his participation with the question like that if there were a few options on the table already and no one could decide which one was the best one. Then, he could be called to make that decision. What was wrong with all these politicians? Why were they afraid to make a decision? What did they be afraid? Did they become so political that lost the professional edge? Were they ever professionals? Don’t you think, comrades Ministers, that you should be professionals first and politicians second? He was a politician, and he was not afraid to make a decision. He made them every day. Oh, this was different. He was the President after all. It was his right to make the decisions.

Batu Khan

MONGOLS ON THE MOVE

“Autumn. October. Rain, wind, and cold. Misery. Hard on the people. Hard on animals. Hard on life. Still, they need to move forward. That’s where we must go. No rest for now. There is no time for that. Soon the snow will start, and everything will freeze. We would have to stop for winter. We need to be in a better place to camp. This would not do. I must think of the horses. People can take it better than animals. A Mongol without a horse was not a Mongol any longer. The horse is everything. The horse is your lifeline. You can go hungry, thirsty, for a very long time but not without a horse. You’ll die without a horse much sooner, almost right away. Here a man without a horse is a walking dead. It would happen rather sooner than later. I’ll give my orders tonight. We must bring more hay closer to the horde and move the bulk of the horses farther south. There would be no war in the winter, so, we do not need so many horses here. There would be some skirmishes, of course, and the raiding parties but no real war, not for five or six months. No movements of the thousands but only the dozens. As always, we will break the Golden Horde into many small ones moving horses and people around for the winter. I want the soldiers to report back to the Golden Horde in early March while the snow is still seen here and there. The soldiers come in and get in shape. Train. Families that want to follow us will come over in two weeks after the soldiers. The snow would be almost gone by then. They would rest here and then, trail the army; their husbands, sons and the brothers. We always come together. Families can help and especially, with the wounded and children have to learn everything as early as possible. This is good for children. He was in the saddle already when only the third winter passed. The family made sure of that. That was the time to learn, and he learned. The horse and the saddle should be your second nature if you want to be a true Mongol. This was our way of life — the life of the Mongols and the Tatars. The way of the Nomad. I think, no, I know that all nomads are like that. We live on the move, and we move to live. This is how we like it, and this is how we thrive. We are the rulers of the steppes and soon, the rulers of the world. We are the world.

We are moving east again. No, I am not planning to attack, but we need a forward base. I do not want to keep all troops and the caravans in one camp that should break apart soon anyway. The fighting forces would be stationed in the forward campgrounds and rotated throughout the winter. We are going to split one Tumen into four or five divisions and keep them about twenty miles ahead of the main body. I will rotate them with other Tumens every two weeks so, as not to overtire them. These are the fighting Tumens and have to be in good shape and spirit. That will be my Blue Horde and the frontline again. I do not want to jump from the Golder Horde camp every time we need to move. That’s the recipe to lose, and we are not going to lose. Every major movement of such a big army with the trains and caravans had to be done in stages. That’s the right way. All my generals agree on that.

The forward camp’s jumping point is the answer. I want them to be ready to strike as early as possible in the spring. Possibly mid of March… I want them to wait for that day with anticipation, the dream of that day. I want them to train for that day and to collect all the information possible. We need many spies going in all directions. I want to know everything there is to know about Russia and the Russians. What are they? What is really there? What are the weak points? This war should be based on knowledge, tactics, experience, and not just the brutal force. We are on their territory, and we are going to be the attacking force. I want to be able to predict every move they make and not to lose too many people in the process. We are planning to go far so we need all the people we have and many more. I do not want to wait until the Russians are ready. I do not want to give them a fighting chance. We need to strike first and win with as fewer loses as we can. This is very important. The first strike is often decisive, and we will have a few first strikes. We know how to do that and will do it.

Even standing here on the top of this hill, I cannot see the end of the column in either direction. It is stretched for miles. We are many. What a force. It looks like entire Central Asia goes East and maybe it is. What are we going to find there? Is it going to be our death or the uncountable riches and thousands of slaves? What a choice. Our oracles predict the victory like never before. I pretended to listen and to believe them. But, I am a more practical man and Subutai is as well. I rely on my soldiers, these men in the column. I’ll watch them a little longer and then go back to the main camp. I have things to do, but I’ll visit the forward encampment for a few times this winter. That’s my responsibility, my job. I have to make sure that everything was going right. These are my soldiers, my people.

The Russian and the Polish slaves are working hard already preparing us for the next year campaign. We need so much. I use only the Khazars to advise me basically on everything and to manage the treasury and the supplies. They proved to be people to trust. Even the Mongols were too corrupt for the job but great when the fighting came. They could fight well. The Khazars could think, and that was very important when you have to run the empire. Still, they could fight well, and they fought the Russians and many others for centuries. They were fascinating people. My grandfather, the Great Genghis Khan, was so wise making peace with the Khazars and allowing them to become equal partners with us, Mongols. None of the Tatars, not even the Kalmyks and the Kyrgyz were given that privilege. And, they are trusted. The Khazars were special back then, and they are even more special now. Good people. Reliable people. Very trusted people. Whatever they did and whatever they touched becomes the best. Why is that? Does it come from their religion? I think that’s the blood and not the religion. Was that ethnic? They did not seem to be too religious anyway. Is it because of their one god? What a strange story. How could there be such a bizarre god? Just one and that did work of many. How can he manage everything and all at the same time?

Well, Muslims claimed the same thing, and many of the Tatars were Muslims. The Uzbeks brought it over, and it just spread around infecting many minor tribes. It did not affect any of the Mongols or me. Subutai laughs at it openly. He respects gods, but he is godless. Gods are there by themselves, and he is there by himself. That’s the arrangement for him. Muslims did not drink and pray for many times a day. How do you have time for that? What do you pray about? You should be deep in trouble to keep asking God for something and trying to get forgiven for something else. I do not think it productive. One has to be more careful with his time. Time is a precious gift that could be taken away in no time and with no reason. The next battle could be your last. Have you accomplished everything you wanted? Did you have time for that? No, they prayed instead and then, what.

History shows that Muslims always lost battles because of that. They prayed instead of fighting or getting ready for that. We know when they pray and always attack when they pray or just before they start. That creates confusion, and we win with minimal losses. And they lose in a total disaster. That’s a good tactic. It always works. I don’t like Islam, and there are so many people believing in it. I do not trust Islam. So far, it proved to be wrong on so many levels. It is wrong for us. There is something wrong with Islam altogether, but Subutai teaches that religious tolerance is one of the best and most important assets the Great Khan should possess. I think he is right. That’s how it should be. Respect all people and all beliefs. Do not discriminate on any grounds. Do not discriminate at all. If you start to divide people on the religious grounds, you will demolish the powers of one nation.

To be strong, a nation should be united no matter what. These people are just your people. The weak little fractions based on religion and tribal connections should be on the other side, and you should have one powerful people to conquer all that and to rule. Genghis believed in this; the Chinese taught him that. That was a powerful lesson. The Chinese educated him in many things, and he used it every time he could. That was so wise. He was so prudent. Oh, he was wise and learned well. I want to be the same way. He taught his brother-in-law, Subutai and Subutai taught me, Batu. And, I am the Great Khan of the Easter Empire now. I was skilled well. I can rule, and people love me.

The Khazar advisors told me that we would need to feed possibly one hundred thousand horses if we want to start in the early spring. Of course, there would be many more horses, but in the following camps and the rear commanders will take care of them. So, I broke my main ten Tumens (ten thousand each) into five encampments. Each camp is two days ride from each other and farther south and the west. The last campground with only one Tumen and two thousand slaves is responsible for all one hundred thousand horses. Horses can graze there better because the climate is warmer, and the place is surrounded by the hills keeping the warm air in. We always kept horses there, even when we fight. This is our main herd, not counting what we are holding in Mongolia. This is a Kyrgyz Tumen tending horses, and they know horses. They know horses almost as well as we, Mongols, do.

The Kyrgyz are good people, relatives. We trust them. They are close. I can trust them well enough. I know we will have enough horses for the war and, when it’s not enough, we have the other herds hidden away and more horses and soldiers could be brought in and fast. I always have more soldiers trained in these camps. Every three-four months, if I need it, a new Tumen would march to any destination I desire. That is how fast we can train them.

A Tumen is usually enough to take an average town. Well, one-fifth of a Tumen often could do an excellent job of it. Many towns do not fight. They hear the stories, and they see thousands of us. The panic sets in, and they start offering us anything we want in exchange for life. I usually kill the leaders but people… People can live if they did not fight me. We need people in our lands. Often, I don’t even enslave them. Someone had to pay taxes. These people should go free, work, make children, and pay taxes. The more, the better. Well, in some cases, I have to change my rules and allow the field commanders to make their own decisions. They can take any slaves (beautiful women, good craftsmen, children) if they want them. The new women and the craftsmen would grow up soon enough. There is always more where that came from.

This territory is vast, and I am not sure if we will see all of it. I am not sure if it is possible to see all of it. That’s how huge it is. There is always enough for everyone. I know. Each Tumen is a tribe by itself, and the field commander must take care of his people. That’s like his own kingdom, and he has to take care of many things. He is the ruler and the judge, but he is responsible for his people and to me. Slavery is good for our nation, and slaves to help us to run it. Also, slaves are a good reward. Often, this is a better reward than gold. The gold you spend, and slaves would multiply and keep on giving. Treat your slaves well, and they will be many and useful. Even if they are slaves, keep them on the level of servants. Reward them when the reward is called for. I demand from my people that they treated slaves well. We need healthy and well-trained slaves. Don’t waste their lives even if you think you are right. Think it over, give it time. Sleep on it and cool down. It usually helps. Don’t waste the treasure you own already. Cherish, and multiply it. Hm… My grandfather used to say that, and I could not understand him back then. Oh, how well I know him now.

I took Kiev with only three Tumens. Well, actually, it was more like two and a half Tumens. About two thousand horsemen, mostly Kalmyks, were skirting the area, making sure that no help was coming to Kiev. We did not expect any but who knows for sure. We tried to split the already shaky relations between the Russian Princes, and the warlords by spreading gossips and paying bribes. We could do both of it well. The invented scandals and the lies did not bother or affect us at all and the bribes we will get back soon enough and probably ten times fold. The Chinese taught us that, as well. Our goal was not to let the Russians unite. We would win anyway, but why do it the hard way? Be smarter and even smarter than that. So, we kept helping them to divide. Well, they did not really need our help there, but we did not mind. It rarely did not work, and in Russia, it always did.

There were some small towns in the way, and we took care of them as well. That was not hard. I also stationed some garrisons around. We did not need the large garrisons in most towns yet, that took some people. So, it was less than three Tumens in Kiev, much less. Hm… I never analyzed it, but it should be closer to two Tumens. Kiev was built like a solid hold. Only two of my Tumens were attacking charging the walls, and I kept the remnants of one Tumen in reserve. It was not much, and Kiev had more defendants than we had people to attack. Some of my generals thought that we did not have the needed number of soldiers to take a stronghold as Kiev and should request more from the horde. They suggested to start a siege and wait.

I was expecting about a Tumen in a few weeks but did not really want to wait. If we fail, we wait. Well, Subutai showed then how to do that, how to take Kiev with what we had. Subutai — what a master of war and what an expert of deception. He lived the war. He was war. He should have written a book on the subject of war, but he could not write. He claimed he did know how to write, but I had never seen it. I also never saw him reading anything. Subutai always had a scribe nearby. He was educated enough and knew the old ways of the storytelling but nothing of writing or reading. What a genuine hero he was. I’ll miss him, but he was getting old and tired. He was a soldier already when I was not even born. Yes, I would miss him so much if he was gone. Anyhow, I ordered one more Tumen to come over, but by the time they arrived, everything was over, and we had the city. So, I sent this new Tumen farther west to take the next town while some of the main force could rest a little. They seized three towns before we caught up with them. The young commander of that Tumen happened to be a very bright man. He was a Khazar, and that said much already. I should watch him closely. I need people like that. By the time we had reached that Tumen, they needed help. Between the losses and the garrisons and the patrols, they needed more people. They could use another thousand or so though they had more wounded than dead. So, we got there on time and helped them out. Good people all around. I had to move more soldiers forward to match our ambitions. Two more Tumens were on the march and should reach us in about a month so, we could continue moving west. That’s the nature of war, and we knew it so well. Fights, death and the need for more people…

Subutai taught me that the sheer numbers of soldiers were not enough to fight a fierce battle. The siege machines and many soldiers were not enough to scale the walls of the fortified city. If the town was well built and well defended, it could take ten to one to conquer it. It means that the attacking force would lose about ten soldiers for every one defender. Can you afford it? Maybe if the supply lines were not that long. We had to wait sometimes for months for reinforcement. You cannot win the war that way and mainly if the fight was that big. Only the size of the territory could tell you a lot. I did not have millions of soldiers, and I could not gather so many people every time I had to siege a stronghold. I had to remember the distances, supplies, horses, and the little bands of the locals we often could not catch. They were many, and they would attack us every time if we were not in force. This was tiring and costly. My people often had to travel in units of at least ten, even if only one or two needed to go.

I always sent three messengers with the same message in the hope that one of them will get through. My emissaries had to travel with at least twenty soldiers and the slaves. It could be a hundred people caravan just for a simple emissary. We have to keep about two thousand people involved in communications. That is tolling the horde and slows our progress considerably. All that was very costly, so, I listened to Subutai and learned. He preferred to apply the scare tactics as much as was possible. He was sure it worked better than anything else. He thought it was better than the display of a well-trained army. The opposition could be well-trained as well. Then what?

Often, Subutai would send the heads and the other body parts of the people resisting us to the towns we were going to attack. He would bombard the city with dead bodies from another town. People could recognize the deceased. He would let some of the conquered people go so, they would deliver the cut-off heads and spread the terror stories around (and many of them were not true) terrifying everyone along the way. Many were ready to give up and plead for mercy way before they saw us. They were horrified and did not want to be treated like the people they saw the heads of. By the way, they did not see us right away. For a few days, they would see only the Tatars and the scariest ones. I would not show the well-controlled and disciplined Tumens of Mongols and Khazars. That could send the wrong message. We meant no mercy, and that was true. None of the conquered people could be equal to us. They were slaves even if we left them free. We, Mongols, were meant to rule the world. That was written in the sky. We were the Asian plague, and we enjoyed that. So, I would not show the regular Tumens but only the dirtiest and the ugliest tribesmen. We had many tribes following us, doing the dirty work and picking the leftovers. They needed us, and we needed them.

Who needed whom more I do not know so, we co-existed and quite well. Every strong animal hunter has this type of followers. Lions and tigers have the hyenas and the vultures at their side. We have the Tatars and the Kalmyks. My grandfather came up with this arrangement, and it still works. It was one of his best ideas, and he had so many. These were the people I would not let even the leaders into my camp. That’s how dirty and ugly they were. My Tumens were clean and well dressed. They were groomed, proud, and trained. Some were educated and spoke a few languages. They owned slaves and participated in the division of the spoils. Many of them had even shares in the enterprise. It took a while and a few accomplishments to get to that level, but so many did. They were my comrades in arms, and I valued them. Many were related to me in one way or another. They loved me, and I respected them. After all, we were not barbarians like the people we conquered. Winter is soon, but we cannot just rest and wait for the warmth. I need to train soldiers, build up the supplies, and take care of people. Many things must be done, and we have to get ready for the spring campaign. Work never stops when you fight a war, and this was war. It’s a continuous process if you hope to win. It is not going to be easy, and we must work hard to get ready.

Kiev. There it is, on the top of that hill. There are many hills here, and the town has spread out over a few of them. If we take the main ridge with that Kremlin there, we win the battle. Horses would not help much with the attack. There are hills and horses serve better in the open field. Kiev is a tough nut to crack. The location is good, and the Kremlin is well built. I can see that. We will have a hard time to maneuver, and the Chinese cannons will have to shoot uphill. Still, we have guns and the crossbows, and they don’t.

We also have the siege machines. We were building them all winter. I have the Chinese craftsmen making it. Yet, it’s going to be hard to bring them close enough to be effective. We are better armed and trained in modern warfare. Russians are at least a century behind us. We have a few hundred of them, Chinese. They are good people, very learned, and very innovative. Why can’t I teach the Mongols to do that? To build… To invent… To be ahead of the others. Ogedei Khan and the other khanates use the Chinese everywhere they can. It looks like each nation is better in something specific that others can’t do as well. But, we learn. Well, we learn to use others and to treat them well. Chinese and the Khazars are good in almost everything, but we are better fighters. We are ruthless like no one else. It helps to lead the life we do.

People in Kiev are scared, but the Grand Duke wants to fight. I knew that he waited for the brothers and cousins from Suzdal, Yaroslavl, and Vladimir to join the fight. He even asked the Duke of Pskov and Novgorod for help. I knew that in time because we caught the messengers and they talked when the Tatars tortured them. They told us everything, even the things we did not ask. Everyone talks when the Tatars ask questions. Tatars always use very effective methods of torture. Pain, fire, scare, and dripping water. When water drips on your head, it drives you mad. You want it to stop so, you talk.

Bamboo growing through your guts is another thoughtful invention. I am not sure, but I think the Chinese invented that one. Bamboo grows fast, and through you, but you do not die. You experience a lot of pain, and you are scared, terrified, seeing all that. Tatars do not like to waste time just talking. They use a direct approach — torture. This time they poured the boiling oil into the throat of one of the messengers making the others watch it. Of course, they spoke. Who would not? Even the mute would start talking. They were talking so fast, even interrupting each other. We had to ask them to slow down and speak only one at the time. They did not speak any of our languages, and it was not easy to translate when they spoke too fast and all at the same time. They spoke Russian, after all, and we did not. They told us everything we wanted to know and more, much more. They would not shut up, but we did not kill them. Not right away. I know they died later. We were not set up for the prisoners. Not on the move. What do you need prisoners for? Either let them go or enslave them.

I like watching the Tatars at work, whatever they do. They take pleasure in torture, rape, murder, and other violent acts. But, they never build or grow anything. All they do is tending animals, hunting, fishing, and war. All that involves killing in the end. They are not even good at the trade. What can you do? They are what they are. They always devised violence in the most horrifying and prolonged way. Disgusting creatures those Tatars but we are closely related in many ways, and so we stay together. We do not love each other, but we co-exist and well. The ancestors did it for thousands of years. It is just right. I think the Chinese are the master torturers and then, the Koreans, Japanese, and the Tatars. Kalmyks are good at it as well.

Still, Tatars used only pain to get the answer. That’s the quickest and the straightest way to get the results. Humiliation and physical pain are the two most important keys to successful torture. I tend to agree with the Tatars on that subject. At war, you do not have time to be gentle and to follow agreements. What agreements you should follow when you are killing each other? Do you want to kill each other more gently? Is it even possible? Yes, in some cases, you can kill someone fast or prolong the agony. But, in the mortal fight, you try to kill quickly and not to be killed. You want to get out of one fight speedily and go to another. You have to move. Every single victory counts and adds to the total success. That’s what we want — a complete success. The brutal force was the only force noteworthy in war. During the torture, they break you down, tear you apart, destroy you without killing, and death often comes as a reward for your cooperation. The torturers are wise and experienced, and they get results. If they fail too many times. We torture them. That works as well so, they do not fail for too many times.

The Tatars never fail to extract the information because they do not respect your life, and they showed it openly. They do not pretend to be cultural and would not discuss the higher points of being with you even if they understood it. What for? They are what they are. The Chinese, Japanese, and the others would combine the physical torture with the mental torment as well. It takes longer, and the prisoners often stay in good health and the spirit. Sometimes it’s useful if you wanted to save the prisoner. Sometimes you want to use the prisoner for something else. Maybe the prisoner is going to work for you in one capacity or another. But, the result was the same. They get the answer, and we usually did not keep the prisoner but often promise so. We, Mongols, do not torture.

We have the Tatars and the Chinese to do that for us. So, we killed the Russian messengers in the end and sent the heads back to Kiev as a reply to the message. Yet, they did not surrender. What did they hope for? Stupid. They cannot fight us. We will take the city and get what we want. All this was a useless waste of lives. Did they care? I did. But, I cared for my people more. They either accept our rule unconditionally or die. Slavery is an option but not a great way to survive. Some slaves did better than the others, but you have to have something to offer. If you know something interesting or you are a good craftsman, or good looking, we may use you. It could be good for us. But you must have something to offer.

We keep some of the noblemen alive so, they could manage their own people. It saves us resources so, we can go farther West, North or South. We own the East already. Still, even our resources are limited. Well, Ogedei was talking about Japan. We may go there yet, but we needed the fleet. We were not the sea-going nation thus far, but we were learning. That would be an exciting campaign. I do not think Ogedei would wait for me. He may go there sooner than I can break myself loose from here. It may, no, it will take a while, and he is building ships already. I heard the Koreans were doing that. It could take a few years, though. This place, Russia, is really too large and has too many problems. Resources… We do not get a break over here, any of us. Still, I like it here. I may stay here afterward. I am not sure if I want to go back to Mongolia. I would probably go there for a little while and then, come back here and rule. This is my empire.

After a few months of the siege, Kiev was ready to fall. It could take one hard push and then, some cleaning up. Losses on both sides were not that great, but the walls could not hold much longer, and the city was running out of supplies. Actually, they ran out of supplies a while back. That was the harsh reality. The walls were of wood and dirt, and they did not get ready for the siege. It was not reinforced in time. They did not understand what the real siege was and how determent we were. We did not come all the way from Mongolia just for a brawl. We were prepared to wait for the right moment to strike, we were the hunters. They could not remain there for too long because of the supplies. They were cut off the provisions, and we were getting it instead of them. We were doing just fine, but the sickness was setting in the town. We encircled them so well that nothing could be brought in the city, but they were getting water, and we did not know how. Time was on our side, but I wanted it to move faster. We had so much land to cover, so much to manage. I wanted to go to the last sea, and that was far. We did not actually know how far it was and our collaborators from western Europe were somewhat vague on the subject. I do not think even they knew it for sure. It was either they did not know, or we did not have the right people advising us. Anyhow, it was a considerable distance to cover, no matter how you look at it. I was informed that the Duke was seen eating a roasted with apples swan while the town people just finished all rats and cats in the city. Dogs were gone a while back. Food was quite scarce over there, and it was getting worse by the minute. I had some pork last night. It was not bad. My cook made it the Chinese style — sweet and sour. I like it that way with rice. I love Chinese food. It is tasty and fun to eat. The Mongolian food is somewhat dull but filling. I think that’s the purpose of it: to fill you quickly so, you could go and do whatever you wanted to do. By the way, that was the Russian pork from the nearby town.

We did not have too many pigs in our caravans. There are reasons for that: some of our people were Muslims, and they were offended by pigs. Also, pigs were difficult to tend on the move. How do you handle the grown pig? So, we prefer goats, lamb, cattle and a lot of horses and camels. They are much easier on the move, and they move faster. They almost manage it by themselves. Good animals, friendly animals. Yet, we have a few pigs here and there that started when they were still just the babies and could be kept in the wagons. It takes time for them to grow, and by the time they are fully-fledged, we stop and build a camp. So, they can keep growing until they give us young ones and we eat the old ones. The young ones may start their lives in the caravans if we are moving again. That’s the pig cycle.

I always eat what my people eat. We are all the same and eat from the same Gazan (cooking pot). That is just right. I often eat sitting with the ordinary soldiers at the fire they built to cook whatever they had. I frequently bring kumis. We eat, drink, and talk. Well, they speak, and I listen. They are wise people, and I need to know what they think. Usually, I hear good advice. And we laugh. The soldier needs to laugh as often as he can. What’s life without laughing. Soldier’s life is not easy, and a good laugh helps. It always does. Any Mongol can come and talk to me at any time. I would always listen and consider their concerns. I never punish people for being honest and open. We punish people for being dishonest and covert. That’s where the evil is.

The Russian Duke and his family, the boyars (the Russian noblemen) and some of the regular soldiers had almost all the supplies they wanted, but people had nothing. They were starving, and that was not right. The sickness was creeping in already, and that was the worst of it all. Children would die first. And that would be the most painful death. People saw families dying and could not help. That was very hard on people, harder than on the nobility. That breaks your heart and the will to fight. I knew that people had to hate the Duke by now and, if we get rid of him, people will not resist any longer. Then, they did not have to die. They would enjoy life and pay us tribute. That’s the ideal situation. I wish the Russians would get smarter and did that faster. No one has to die on either side. Yet, one must be smart first. We were not the peaceful people, but the useless death was useless even to us.

To protect the rear and the flanks, I dispatched three newly arrived Tumens in the direction of Suzdal, Vladimir, Rostov, and Yaroslavl. They had orders to take these cities and to continue to Pskov and Novgorod. That was the extreme west and north of the Kievan Russ, the limits of Russia. One more Tumen went to the farthest North. We could not fight there effectively due to the thick forest along the way. My soldiers were from the steppes and perfect fighting in the open. Our famous horses feared the trees. They had never seen so many trees before. How do you maneuver horses in the thick forest, the foliage, the undergrowth? The soldiers would go in the woods and never come back, but some horses would run out covered with blood, telling us the horror story of the trees. The northern Russians living there were the pure Vikings (called the Varyag in Russia). Hard people and so set in their ways. Some of them maybe were harder than us. They were decent enemies and even better friends. They were the same type of people with us, and we have to fight them differently. The heavily wooded North was a natural habitat for them, and they hunted us like the bears killing with pikes, knives and the bare hands. Those Vikings were huge and much stronger than our people. One-on-one, hand-to-hand combat with them was quite challenging, and only my best soldiers could win there. That was a massive problem for us, and we needed to solve it. The good thing was that they never joint the fight with the Russians in Central Russia. They just wanted to be left alone by both sides. They hated the other Russians as much as they hated us, if not more. So, we stopped harassing them and offered peace. They kept it, and we did. That is why I had only one incomplete Tumen there, kind of guarding our northern borders. We rarely had any serious problems there. It was a labored peace but still peace. The Viking Russians would not attack, but they did not want to be attacked either. So, it worked quite well. I also had one Tumen in the South. We did not want any surprises from the Slavs in the Balkans. These Slavs were weak, the dying breed, but they were still there. I never believed that the Slavs could mount any organized defense or an attack, but I could not take any chances there. I had plenty of soldiers, Tartars, and slaves. They created a human shield between the horde and the Balkans. One day, when I finish in Central Europe, I’ll turn my Tumens to the Balkans, and we will end the Slavs. I am not sure if I want to get involved there. We’ll see. Who knows, if we had nothing else to do, we could do that. But that could wait. Slavs were not important. I had to conquer all of Europe yet. That would take maybe two-three more years or maybe less. If they keep the crusades up leaving their strongholds, towns and the villages without the able men, I may do it in a year. It was somewhat easy, so far. After my trip to the capital and the election of the Grand Khan, when all formalities are over, I’ll send all ten regular Tumens to Europe. In combination with the Tartars, they would bring me the victory I desire. Who could really resist us?

I always kept at least a dozen scouts, well in advance, in every direction. They even scouted our rear. In the modern world of the thirteenth century, one has to protect the back even more than any other side. That’s where the unforeseen comes from, and the unexpected may hurt you. You never know what was approaching from the behind. Betrayal was so common no matter where you turn. I think it was fashionable to some degree. I think it was in any country with every people. Brothers betrayed brothers and sons betrayed parents. I never betrayed anyone, but many have, or at least tried to betray me. I had to deal with them swiftly and decisively, leaving the reputation of the bloodthirsty despot. I had to do that. But I love flowers and animals. I adore children of Mongols. I have created a small horde for orphans we pick along the way. It is close to a thousand children already. There are so many of them and just about everywhere. We do not kill children without reason, and the reasons for that are very rare. They would probably die without help, and we help them. I oversee them personally. This is important. They are part of my family now. They would grow up as soldiers, best I ever had. Their loyalty would lie only to the khan. I am not a despot. I am a ruler charged with tremendous responsibility. I am responsible for my people, the conquered people, the Western Empire. One day, I may become the Grand Khan of all Mongols. I am ready for it now, but I am still too young. Maybe after I conquer the whole of Europe, I’ll become qualified regardless of my age. Subutai offered to “influence” the elections now, before the votes, but I would not agree to that. After all, all Mongolian khans were my close relatives, and one should not spill his own blood. I am just fine where I am and even better than I could be. I have my own Horde, and my movements are only slightly limited. I am my own man. What do they have I don’t? What do I have they would want? Would I refuse if they ask for something? Have I ever refused anything even to a simple soldier? All my relatives are welcome to everything I have. Everything, short of betrayal… Just ask. Why would I need more? More of what? More problems?

Several of my scout patrols reported that some units of the Russian regulars (druzhina) were moving toward Kiev. It was the druzhina of five thousand strong from Suzdal, and the Duke (brother of the Grand Duke of Kiev) was leading it personally. Possibly some messenger got through. How many and to where? Even we could miss a good scout. They were split into three columns but moved in the same direction of Kiev. Some noblemen (the boyars) accompanied the Duke to this venture. It was clear that they wanted to be the heroes who saved Kiev and the Grand Duke. It was the relief and resupply column Kiev was hoping for. It was a nice gesture, but a little too late.

Knowing that the Russians had mainly infantry and the cavalry was too heavy and not very well trained, I sent over a Kalmyck Tumen — the lightest horsemen I had. They used the smallest horses, almost no armor and mostly bows and arrows. No doubt, they were the best bowmen I saw on horses. They rarely missed if at all. The Kalmyks and Tatars ran circles over the Russians, creating the chaos and afflicting great damages expertly using arrows, lances, and spears. The battle lasted almost a day. Attacks and counterattacks continued for hours, for as long as the sun was up. My commanders were not in a hurry. They had no other plans for that day. The Kalmyks were attacking in waves constantly reinforcing and replacing the units and resting after each attack. The Russians, in turn, were caught in the middle of the vast field with nowhere to hide. The day was hot, and the heat added to the exhaustion and the general misery of the heavy dressed Russians. Water was some distance away and was running short while we had plenty of it. We chose the place of the battle so, we controlled the water and that what we wanted. The Russians encircled the wagons from the wagon train losing supplies in the process. There were water and food that could help. The peasants running the wagon train and the horses were gone as well. My archers went for the water supplies, first destroying it with weapons and fire. By the middle of the day, the Russians were utterly exhausted ready to collapse while the Kalmyks were rested, fresh, confident, and well supplied. By the end of the day, the Kalmycks lost six hundred horses and about four hundred soldiers. Also, we lost about a hundred Tatars. The Russians lost more than two thousand soldiers and all horses (maybe a thousand). When we offered them the surrender, they accepted it gladly. They could not fight any longer anyway. They were dead on their feet. When we saw that the Russians were collapsing, we split the Tumen. About three thousand stayed to finish the job, but the rest of the Tumen went to Suzdal. We just destroyed the Suzdal military so, the city was ripe for picking. Five days later, almost without losses, we had Suzdal — one of the largest cities of Russia at the time. They thought of it highly. People of Suzdal tried to fight, but what could they do. The best soldiers, the druzhina, were gone and we had the heads to prove it. They had no chance and, as always, we offered them to surrender. They were too proud to accept it. A big, costly mistake. So, we were not to blame for what happened to the city and its citizens. We were not to blame for anything, but the Kalmyks and the Tatars sometimes went over the top. After all, that was their nature.

So, I pretended to be a great host to the Duke of Suzdal and his people. My Chinese doctors went to help the Russian wounded. All the noblemen were cleaned up, given the fresh clothes and invited to a meal in my tent. I told them that I want to negotiate a good relationship between them and us. I promised them that they could go back to their estates, keep owning them and just paying us a negotiated tribute. I also vowed to defend the Russian lands from the Swedish and the German knights and any other aggressor to be. They liked that so much. We had such a good time. Many of them sent emissaries to other noblemen asking them to come over and join the agreement and the celebration. We even stopped the attacks on Kiev, offering them to come over for a talk. I gave the order to send some food to Kiev, and the Duke’s wife came out to receive it and to thank us. Everything was so civil, but I had to be wicked. I was Khan. Subutai was playing the role of the proper Mongol. I heard him saying to the Duchess:

“My dear lady, are you pregnant? Is not it the level of hardship the pregnant women should not endure? I can offer you the safe conduct to anywhere you may want. Even more, I can offer safe conduct to all women and children in Kiev. Take it. Think of the children. We are not the barbarians as some of the Christian and the Muslim tribes. We understand life while we live and not just when we die. You don’t have to suffer. Suffering is for men and only if they prefer it. Really, no one should suffer. There is no need for that. Life is too harsh already. Is life harsh in the Russian land? It is harsh in our steppes?”

It was an unusually warm day for the season. Subutai was wearing just the silk shirt and the hardened leather vest generally used under the chainmail armor. He was still looking young and fit, and he was in the late forties already. He saw so much of hardship already. He was in the saddle since he was three years old and his mother gave him birth in the saddle as well. The family was on the move, and there was no reason to stop for a mere birth of a child. A cow, horse, or a camel would be another matter. That’s how it was and still is in the Nomad lands. The life lessons started early. Yes, he belonged to the strong and robust generation of my grandfather and his associates. They knew it all.

“Thank you, my noble knight. This is very kind of you. You see, we, the Russian women, always stand by our men and so, we will do now. We will stand by our men now and share equally whatever the future has in store for them. I am sure you understand that.” She looked at us intently. She was not beautiful by our standards but quite pleasant in a soft plumb way.

The Northern people seemed entirely different from us. They had no color. She was pale maybe because of the heat of the day or because she was talking to Subutai constantly moving her gaze from him to the guards and to me. There also were a few Khazar bodyguards that accompanied us. Khazars were well known to the Russians. They were enemies for hundreds of years. The Russians appeared strange to us, and we looked at least exotic to them. I predicted then, and I know it now: Russians will start looking more, and more like us and quite soon. Interesting to see if I was right. Would I see that? The day was still young but getting old by the passing minute.

“Dear lady, Grand Duchess, we Mongols, have a lot of respect for the Russians, men and women alike. We really like your children. You are a powerful nation destined to make history. We do not want to fight you, destroying your towns and the way of life. We do not want our great soldiers to die, fighting your great soldiers. This is such a waste of life and good fortune. We prefer to live side-by-side, as good neighbors and brothers. This is much better than killing each other. Would not you say so? Tell your husband to come over to our camp, join the other noblemen, and talk to us. They are all there, in our camp. We are ready, and we want to talk. I am certain we can negotiate a comfortable peace for both sides. Peace is better than a war, no matter how you look at it.” Said Subutai pointing at the golden tents housing the Russians from Suzdal in not so great distance.

The Russians looked happy waving to her and calling her husband to join them. Most of them were close relatives of the Grand Duke. Some were her relatives. She was of the noble blood herself. The whole picture gave the impression of being very real and down to earth. There was no death over there, but there was death in Kiev. Many had died already. The fighting and sickness were taking its toll. The losses were huge, in hundreds if not thousands. Kiev — the Capital, the Kremlin, the walls, the town, the hills, the Dnepr River and the Russian people — all was in ruins. Maybe the Grand Duke was too stubborn? Perhaps the peaceful way was the way to deal with the Mongols? At least for now. Perhaps the hard peace was better than the brutal war. What was it going to be? Subutai was smiling, and I was amused. After all, we were civilized people. He could talk, I know that. But to what degree? Subutai was sly, crafty; he was a master deception.

“I’ll talk to my husband. He will join the negotiations.” She said firmly.

“This is good. This is very good. Do you need anything else from us, my lady? Anything? No? Any time you need something you can call on me. I am Subutai. I can, and I will help. You can trust me.” Subutai was all smiles and gentleness. His Kazakh interpreter smiled to the very extent of his mouth showing the rotten black teeth but in a very polite Kazakh way. He was a well-trained interpreter worthy of his masters. We had a full contingent of the interpreters from every language to every language, and they were fitted explicitly to any situation. They did a good job and were paid well. We always paid well to the worthy people. Everything looked so good, natural, authentic, in the oriole of sunshine and warm weather. What could go wrong? Where… How… Maybe there was no war, and everything was just right? Perhaps the horror was just a dream. Very bad, terrifying dream. At least we could pretend that, and we did.

Two weeks later most of the expected Russian dignitaries, Dukes, Princes, and the Boyars, from the neighboring lands had arrived. There were a hundred and two of them and about two thousand servants and bodyguards. The Mongols hosted all of them equally with the show of great respect and the desire for peace. Peace and prosperity were in the air. For two days the Russians saw some kind of construction going on. The Mongols were building a stage on the hill not too far from the Kiev gates. It looked like a platform large and strong enough for a few hundred people to sit, eat, drink, and be entertained. When asked, they stated that it was a stage for all of them to celebrate after negotiations were completed. They said that there would be a feast and the dancers and the parade, and they all would become the best of friends and the brothers. Well, the mutual feeling, considering the hospitality of the last two weeks, was that the Mongols really knew how to show respect and to entertain the guests. Everything demonstrated goodwill, and everyone looked happy.

Everybody made promises to invite the Mongols for a similar treatment. The Mongols politely smiled promising to visit their lands at the earliest convenience. The Mongols stated time and time again that they could hardly wait to visit all these cities, towns, villages, and hamlets. Subutai personally promised to start right after this affair was over, and traveling was safer for both sides. He was known among the Mongols for keeping his promises, and they all smiled and promised the same. After all, they may come together and even earlier than expected. It was an excellent time for festivities and making friends. Friendship was in the air, and gifts were exchanged freely. Brotherhood was in the air, and everyone had a few brothers on the other side already. No, it was the air of goodwill, and everyone wished well to everyone. The Russians were convinced that the Mongols were the best people the earth could produce. The war was just a colossal misunderstanding they were destined to correct. And why not. Why war? Why kill each other? What is wrong with peace and friendship? Well, if not friendship but at least tolerance. There was no reason to fight, and there was enough of everything for everyone. Just slide over and let the other guy sit at the table. There was plenty of room for everyone. Even the kids could squeeze in. Tomorrow morning the negotiations would commence, and all the grievances would get sorted out in no time.

I met with many of the Russians personally. Listening to the complaints and the grievances directed at us, Swedes, Germans, and each other, I made promises to consider all of it in our negotiations. I was going to review all the information if I was to rule this vast land. How else could you rule there with them? What I heard and what I saw that there was no unity among these people and that was extremely important to us. That could be the biggest key to that vast land. They gave the words and made the alliances with the same speed they broke them, if not faster. They hated each other more than they hated us, which was hard to believe. After all, they were all related. They reminded me of the spiders in a jar, killing and eating each other trying to climb up using the bodies of the others as the ladders. What a nation of vultures, spiders, and snakes. Are we the same, in any way? I would not feel anything destroying them and taking over the land, the riches, and the people. They should not live, and as slaves, they were useless. So, I gave the order, and my guards moved in to fulfill it. I had never done anything like that before, but it seemed a good idea considering the situation and the people I was dealing with. We needed to speed up the war, and it was time for it. We decided to cut off the heads of the opposition in one powerful stroke. All at once. We had no time to wait and wait for what. So, we would deal with whomever we have right now, and the rest of the opposition will find it out soon enough. After all, Subutai conceived it, and all my advisors supported it. They knew the business of treachery so well that I could learn a thing or two. This was going to be an exciting lesson.

At the crack of dawn, my bodyguards and two hundred Tatars went into the tents of the Russian dignitaries. The Russians slept like babies. Idiots. They trusted us. We gave them plenty of wine spiked with the juice of the poppy seed. Also, each of them was given a slave girl to be entertained at night. They liked it so much. So, the combination of wine, the sleep-inducing juice, fatty food, and the slave girls from the Orient, made them soft and tired. It worked like a charm. It always did. They lost the caution and fell asleep as deep as the Dnepr River our camp was on. Fools. My guards went in all their tents at once, grabbing the Russians and tying them up. They had no chance. Then, the guards drugged the Russians to the wooden platform we finished building just the day before. We invited them to the feast, and they would be present at the feast. That will be our entertainment. That was going to be a historical one. The banquet was set for the afternoon, but the Russians were there early in the morning, and this was a hot, humid day. It happens in this area quite often, and people survived by drinking a lot of water. Subutai gave an order to pure water over them every two hours, just to keep them alive.

By the late morning, all Russians were piled up in the mount of bodies, and the platform was situated on top of them. We could hear pleadings, angry cries, sighs, and sobs. It did not bother us at all. Why should it bother us? They were the enemies. Around noon, about two hundred of my closest associates, including Subutai, the advisors, relatives, and the Tumen commanders were seated on the platform enjoying the feast. Many of the slave girls were there to serve our needs and to entertain us with singing and dancing. The servants were taking care of food and cleaning after us. Even our pets were there. I do not know precisely how many people and animals were on the platform at the pick but could be as many as five hundred. Adding the weight of food, drinks, and the weapons, the pressure on the mount of live bodies beneath the platform was tremendous.

They moaned and cried. The harts were giving out. They asked for mercy, but in response, we relieved ourselves right on their heads through the holes cut in the platform. Are you thirsty? Drink this. Are you hungry? Eat that. We laughed. I don’t think we ever had so much fun as during that feast. We decided not to attack Kiev for a few days and just eat, drink, and sleep on the platform. Even we needed some rest. The screams from the human mount became louder as the weight of us was going through the Russians squeezing the flesh and breaking the bones. They were slowly dying but dying for sure. We were going to do this for as long as it took for all of them to die. We had plenty of time. As usual, time was on our side, and we could manage it on our terms. We wanted the citizens of Kiev to see it to the end so, they would understand the whole depth of the situation their land was in. And, the city saw everything from the walls. We were not going to interrupt the show. We were not shooting, and they could see everything in peace and as it really was. We were the new Dukes and the Boyars, and this was our land now. All Russians were destined to become our slaves or die. Soon, as soon as we get there, to your land. We had no mercy, and we would not stop until the entire world was enslaved by us. Only the Mongols and the tribes of the Golden Horde were chosen to live in freedom and to be the masters. It was for the better. That was our destiny yet, their tragedy.

The entire population of Kiev was on the walls following the tragedy unfolding in our camp. They called us asking for compassion for the dying men and offering all the treasures they possessed. Still, they were short of surrendering the city. But, we wanted it all and more. Subutai ordered to bring over the women we caught in the villages surrounding Kiev. We raped them right there in front of the entire city. After we were done ravaging them, we let the Tatars have their way with the women, and that was terrifying even for us, Mongols. Many women were savagely raped and tortured while calling the names of their loved ones hiding in the city. Some had children in the camp and men in the human mount. The Tatars kept everything on display, spreading the horror around and terrifying all witnesses. They brutally cut the women’s breasts off and then, opened the bellies, while they were still alive, spilling the guts and the blood on the pile of human bodies beneath the platform. The revolting stench from the human mount was increasing by the minute. It was really repulsive, but that was the strategy. Clouds of black and green flies surrounded the platform, the camp, and the city buzzing so loudly that no one could turn the eyes away from the tragedy of the scene. Billions of flies could sound very loud, louder than the screams of people being tortured to death.

Cries and the scream of the wounded and dying Russians mixed with the savage yells of the delight of the Tatars drunk on blood, the killing frenzy. And then, came the children. The fair-haired and blue-eyed Russian children… There were dozens of them. Tatars had never been civilized, and after they accepted the Koran as the living word of God and Islam as the main religion of the group, they became wilder than any wild beast. They became the worst beasts of all, and even we were scared at times. They frightened us and many of our associates and most of all, the Khazars. It was too horrific for the Jews, too forbidden, too illogical, too unnatural. Yet, it was necessary to win the war. Most of Khazars left the scene when it started. They did not contradict my orders in any form but did not take part in it also. They just went as far from the mount as was possible. It was not for them, and it was not for me either. Many of my people did not like what was going on, but we had to do it, and we knew it. That was necessary. Maybe it was overdone somewhat, but the result counts more than anything. I tried to save the lives of my people by scaring, terrifying the enemy, and we succeeded quite often. And, that worked only in one way — the terror. And, dread was everywhere. No matter where you looked, you were frightened to the point of scream. We were terrified, but that was us. I did not like it, none of it but I knew, my grandfather had done it before. He always tried to shock the enemy into submission before any of our people had to die. The enemy should perish and not us, never us. It paid back more often than not, and we were the winners. So, I could not stop the Tatars or the Kalmycks, but I was not proud of it. Actually, I was getting sick of it and fast.

Finally, I got tired of everything I saw. It was a very stressful day for a very stressful week. We were so close to the victory but not there yet. Maybe one more push and we are there. I could not watch it any longer. Watch what? The Tatars were too wild and too wile for my taste. Cousins… In short, it was too violent for me, and I needed a rest. I needed to rest from my enemies and my friends alike. I needed to rest from the Tatars. One thing is how you act in the battle, and another is in the time and the place of peace. True, the wives and the children of my enemies were also my enemies, but I don’t like torturing them. It is not right. I see no reason for that. They were just women and children. Old people… To horrify the enemy… They are frightened already. They are petrified. To terrify them even more? They were broken down. What else could we do? Kill… And, we killed.

We hardly needed to fight them now, but some became more agitated, angry, mad, and will contest us to death. That’s the negative side of the process. We know that and have to deal with it. I think that rape, slavery, and a quick death were acceptable but not the torture. What’s the point? You torture people only when you need the information. Why would you torment a child? Or, a peasant woman? What do they know that you need so badly? They never knew anything, and often, they were damn. What did we gain then? That was wrong, so, I do not watch it. Yet, it works like a magnet. You cannot take the eyes off.

Could you turn away from the ugliness? Real ugliness… Exactly. The Khazars just walk away. Somehow, they turn away. They never participate or even watch anything like that, but they fight well and very smart. Well, I should not interfere with my soldiers. Not for something like that. They are good soldiers, and that is the reward they want. If that’s what they want, I’ll give it to them. My life was stressful enough already, and I did not need any confrontations with the Tatars, Kalmyks, Kyrgyz, Buryats, or anyone else in my camp. Yet, I have to watch the Muslims much closer though. That’s all. It was time to rest a little and not to think of unpleasant things. A few of my commanders, relatives, Subutai and I left pretending that we had some things to do and some orders to give. We did not want anyone to know that it was revolting even to us. We wanted to wait until the Tatars were done with what they did best, and the platform cleaned so we could come back and continue to enjoy the feast. I took a new Russian slave girl and went to my tent. It was her first time with me, and probably, she would fight resisting the violation. That always makes me harder. I liked it. Fight, girl. You are so beautiful. Kick harder. I will not cut your breasts off, and I will not kill you. I do not do things like that. I am not a Tatar nor a Kalmyk. I am more civilized. I just want to make love to you in an exceptional way I reserve for the slave girls. Don’t be afraid and come here. Let’s be friends. If I like you, it could be good for you in the end. My personal slaves live somewhat better than others. Sometimes they were even better off than people of the lesser tribes. Those people would love to be my slaves, but I do not need them for that. They are from the steppes or the neighboring settlements. What could I experience from them? What could they tell me? What do they know I don’t? No, that is not exciting at all. They should be free if we did not conquer them, and why would we conquer them. There is nothing they have that we want. We are of the same race and, in many ways, we are the same. They are our cousins and see things our way anyway.

A few hours later, when we were rested and ready to continue enjoying the good weather, good fortune and the feast, one of the guards, called Subutai to the city gates. It was not really unusual, but it was this day. Kiev was in shock, and nothing should be happening there if not the surrender. They had nothing left. The guard claimed that the Grand Duchess of Kiev wanted to see Subutai. That was interesting and quite unusual so, I decided to join him. No one ever wanted to see Subutai if not for a favor to ask. He was not a good-looking man nor a pleasant one. One could not have an intelligent conversation with him if it did not involve war, killing, or horses. So, it should be a favor she wanted. I liked Subutai because I knew him ever since I was a toddler and he always was good to me. When my father died, he became like a father to me. More, he was a friend. He told me everything I know and helped me to grow into what I am now. He did so much for me. Well, he was my father in a way. It was not by blood but in real life, and I loved him for that. Interesting, but Subutai did not court women but raped them instead. Well, he rarely raped the Mongolian women. One could get killed for that even by the woman. But, the others and the slaves had no chance. He always took what he wanted at the time, although if he regretted it later. No, he never regretted anything. Why would he? That was his character for all I know and we, Mongols, should either accept it or fight. So, I took Subutai as he was, and that was right. Subutai sired many children, but almost all of them were bustards, and he lost the count of them. It was somewhat sad, but then, he could claim the own clan. He never did, though. That was funny. What a wild horde it would be. He was a part of the most prominent tribe in the nation already. His children belonged to our clan and were welcomed everywhere. Thus, the Grand Duchess did not just want his company, she wanted something from him, and I wanted to know what it was and how he would handle that. It could be quite entertaining on a dreary day and the day was getting more boring by the minute. It was exhilarating last night, but we saw it all already.

“My dear lady!” Said Subutai pleasantly when we arrived at the meeting place. “What is your worry, desire? What can I do for you?” The Duchess wore a simple light cotton gown and was alone. Even the guards were some distance away. She was very pale, scared, and clearly was not sure of what to do next. We saw she was frightened. It was normal after the display on the hill. Most likely, she was on the wall with the rest of the city and saw everything that was there to see. She probably saw the entire parade of horror and imagined even more.

She saw the blood, gore, and suffering. What else was there to conceive? Yet, we left a few things for imagination, and, if you were a sensitive type, it could be the most terrifying thing.  It was apparent, she was overwhelmed with the internal dilemma coming from her heart and from the soul. She was doing something she did not want to do but thought that was the right thing to do. Was she right?

“My Lord, you told me just a few days ago that I could call on you in times of need so, I am here. This is the most troublesome time of all. I am glad that Lord Batu is here as well. Lord Batu is known for fairness and consideration, and I trust that it is true. The time for compassion has come, and I wanted to ask you for mercy.” The Duchess was holding her tears back, but the voice betrayed her time and time again.

“Yes, of course, my Lady. What can we do for you? Do you need food, water, something else?” Subutai was smiling with the innocence of a cat that just swallowed a canary. Oh, he was cunning and diplomatic if he had to be. He never seized to astonish me; that’s how corrupt he was. “Tell us your desire, my Lady. We promise to do whatever we can to fulfill it. We are here to serve if we can. So, what is your worry? Please, talk to us openly. We are here to listen and to help if we can.”

She smiled with a countenance full of hope and anticipation. She hoped for the human response in the most horrific situation. If they did not experience it and were just told the stories, this horror, they would not believe any of that. No one could be that cruel, that inhuman. She wanted to trust the words despite better judgment. The entire city populace was covering the walls waiting for a miracle. Air was thick, still and quiet that was interrupted only by the buzzing of the enormous fat flies surrounding the human mount on the hill but still evolving around the entire city. That was the time of the feast for them, and they enjoyed every second of it. The Duchess and the people were hoping for a gesture of goodwill. Was there any goodwill left anywhere? In my empire? In the world? I did not want to interfere, but I wanted to see it too.

“My Lords, my husband and all these noble people you are tor… killing over there. Please, I beg of you. Let them go or kill them quickly. What is the point in such violence that cannot even be described? They are humans, and you are humans. And, the slaves… Children… What did they do to deserve that? Why… Do you make war on them too? How could that help you? What do you want from us? From them… You came to take the city. So, take it. Attack, scale the walls, kill all of us and be done with that. You can do it, you are so powerful.” Now, she was crying. She was not weeping, screaming, even moving. There was no sound coming from her. The little drops of tears were leaving the wet scars on her pale, perfect face.

“Duchess, I offered you once before, and I am offering it again. Listen to me and take my offer. I will not offer it again.” Subutai dismounted and slowly walked on his short, badly bowed legs toward the Duchess.

Most of Mongols had the short badly bowed legs because of the lifetime on the move, on the horse, in the saddle that started very early in your life. That was not very attractive to some, but the Mongols apprised it differently. The badly bowed legs told the story and demonstrated the character of the person. The grimace on the Duchess’s face showed the revolution she experienced as a result of his offensive smell. Yes, we smelled.

I don’t know if Subutai ever really washed his body. Maybe his mother did it for him when he was a child. Washing was not widely accepted by the Mongols. We believed that the body oils and the offensive smell protected us from the sicknesses propelling the demons of the illnesses away. Thus, we all smelled, but it was our smell, and we did not really notice it until the new smell offended or attracted our senses. Both happened and often. Actually, we rarely noted unpleasant odors, but the pleasant ones drew us in so much. That was different. Well, nonetheless, a respectable Mongol would thoroughly wash the body twice a year. That was a custom most of us followed. Yet, Subutai was not that respectable, and he followed only the traditions he liked. What he liked was not precisely what I did. After all, we were different people.

“My Lady take the women and the children and leave this place of death. We would guarantee you the safe conduct anywhere you may want to go. Do not go to Suzdal. Suzdal is not what it was before. We are there already, and most of Suzdal is not. We’ve been there for a little while already. I will give you a hundred of my best bodyguards to protect you. This is the best I can do for you, my Lady. Take it and save as many people as you can.”

The commander of my personal Khazar Tumen and a few bodyguards were right next to me watching the scene. They were with us for a long time and knew what was coming. I softly whispered to them to get the troops ready for the attack, and the messenger went to the camp. I knew Subutai all too well. He was preparing the stage for something, and that something could only be the end of the city. Subutai would use this situation to our advantage one way or another so, the troops had to be ready. Some small units and the individual soldiers started to move closer to us, closer to the gates. I saw probably a thousand regulars concentrating around us, and the entire Tumen was assembling on the hill just a short distance away. Cannons were never moved in the first place so, they were in place and aiming at the gate and the walls. Well, I saw them running to the high ground and closer to the city.

Good people. Subutai saw it too. He looked at me and smiled. What a sly dog. Just do not call him that to his eyes. You may lose your head or get a knife into your eye. He knew that I would understand him. After all, he raised me. My eyes searched the camp, and I noticed the units of my Tumens, forming all around the city. I could not see the Tatars, but I knew that they would be hiding among the hills ready to chase anyone breaking through of our iron ring. Also, they were prepared to protect our rear in case if anyone tried to relieve the city. I had no idea who would attempt to do that, but I would rather be safe than sorry. My army was very well trained, and everyone knew his place during the battle. I did not have to worry about that. Thousands of my people fought as one man. The horrible death was a reward for not following my orders, and this rule was firmly enforced. After all, they were good people, and I trusted all of them with my life.

“We cannot leave, My Lord Subutai. We would not leave Kiev. This is our city, our home, the only home we have. We will fight along the side of our husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. That’s our way of life. Would your women abandon you if the roles reversed? I think not. We cannot live without them so, we will share their future equally. Whatever it may be.” She was staring toward our camp with a life mount, maybe not even seeing it. She was searching for people she knew, the friends, the relatives. She looked so tall, so strong, so commanding in front of almost bridged ancient walls of Kiev and Kiev was looking at her with the wide-open eyes full of horror and admiration. She was so proud, and I admired her spirit as well. She was a good woman, and every leader should have a wife like that. My wives were not like that, but I will find the right one soon enough. I am looking already every time I get a chance. I met many beauties, but they were not what I want. Maybe I should look outside the steppes, maybe the Khazar woman.

“Well, I see, you want to share whatever is coming to your men. That’s your decision. We respect your decision and can oblige that.” And, with his mighty hands, Subutai tore her clothes off, exposing the pregnant but still beautiful body pushing her to the ground. A cry of horror rang from the walls accompanying the Duchess cries of pain. Subutai was at his peak raping her in front of all these people as a prelude and a sneak preview to the rape of Russia. It was so symbolic besides being so brutal. Russia could not survive what was coming, and that was happening to every city, every corner of this country.

Kiev was the biggest city of Russia and, if Kiev falls, nothing could stand against the Golden Horde. Nothing else was big enough for that. That was the breaking point in the war. The Mongolian soldiers moved closer and closer to the walls not hiding under the colorful shields of peace any longer. The spirit of the city was finally broken, and the final attack was in the making. No one could stop what was going to happen. No one would even think of trying it. One needed the will to fight, and there was no will any longer. The intention was taken away by us. We crossed the breaking point for the Russians. I have to give it to Subutai, he was the master of war. The Kievan Russia had to figure out how to survive without Kiev until it was rebuilt and prospering again. The Mongols would level it out and then, run the wild horses over for a thousand times. They did not want to erase the memory of the place but to keep the horrifying memories alive. That war would last for a few years more and the Golden Horde for hundreds of years more.

Subutai took his time torturing the Duchess and then, a couple of Tatars took their turns. They considered it an honor to be the followers of Subutai the Great. After all, he was a hero from the old tales. That’s how they did it back then and still, do it now. She was quiet, not even sobbing. Blood was freely running from her womb. She was not dead but probably unconscious or on the way of losing her mind. Then, Subutai stepped forward again. He had a dagger-shaped in the form of a crescent with the sharp edge on the inside of the curve. These daggers were mainly used to cut the throats of animals and people alike. It was quick and painless, but who could tell it sure. After your throat was brutally cut and you bled out, you were dead less talking. And, Subutai slowly cut her ample ready to feed the new life breasts off. Thus, maybe it was a painless merciful death or perhaps not. We have no way of knowing. I have a dagger like that and used it for a few times, and I felt no pain. Ha, ha… The blade happened to be well suited for that task as well. She did not scream of the sudden and terrible pain but moaned in the wake of the dying dreams, the hastily fading future. She should be dead in a matter of seconds. Her spirit was gone already to a better place and was not coming back.

With the next stroke of the dagger, Subutai slit her belly open, looked inside with uncluttered interest, and pulled the unborn child out. Another cry of the despair came in waves from the wall. Subutai smiled and skewed the fetus on the pike of one of the soldiers standing right next to him. Then, he threw the pike aiming at the gates. The Mongols and the revulsion were close enough for that. The pike, with its message of horror, hit the target promptly in the center. Everyone was quiet standing still. Then, there was a crackling noise coming from the gates. All heads turned toward the sound. The gates were opening, and the white piece of close on the end of the stick indicated the peaceful request that even the Mongols and the Tatars would honor. This was one of the few things important enough for everyone.

“Sir… People… We want to take the bodies of the Duchess and the child. Can we? If you give us the Duke and the Boyars, we would appreciate it. Please do. We would bury them. We just want to honor and to bury them like Christians. That would be just right. Can you do that, please? Then, we can kill each other.” It was a man’s loud voice.

“Yes, go ahead. You can take the Duchess and the baby. But, the Duke and the Boyars are not ready yet. We will let you know.” Said Subutai and the gates opened. A few weary Russian soldiers in fine metal chainmail (Kalchuga — Russian), helmets called “Shishak” in Russian and with the sheathed swords came out hurriedly moving toward the body of the Duchess while two more soldiers were trying to pull the pike from the wood of the gates. None of them had any other weapons or the shields to have the free hands to carry the bodies. It was a grisly task one would accept only out of sheer necessity and never out of desire. Blood was still dripping out of both bodies — the small one, never been born and his mother that maybe regretted to be born.

The Tatars were laughing like they enjoyed the walk in the garden on this warm day. Subutai was quiet and thoughtful, looking at the Russians and at me like he was trying to decide if he should kill them as well. I motioned, “NO.” Killing these soldiers may make the defenders too angry so, they will fight harder, more determent, to the death. My grandfather used to teach us that there always should be a feeling of possible escape left to the conquered. They should feel that nothing was final, and they may survive. People would not fight to die; they would hope to live. They would even accept the surrender if offered. And, if there were no chance of escape, they would fight to the death. Strangely, the Duchess was still alive. Her beautiful blue eyes, blood-shot and full of hatred, were still following every move of Subutai. If eyes could kill, Subutai would burn in fire by now. I firmly believe that only this power of hate kept her alive so far. Nothing else would have that kind of power. By all measures, she was dead a long time ago, when it started. Yet, she was still alive and even conscious. She hated him; she hated us so much that she could not die, not yet. She wanted some kind of closure but could not get one. She passed the point of no return. By now, she probably did not even feel the pain any longer. What an unusual time we live in. Hatred rules the world, and we just follow its orders.

“Now!” Yelled Subutai and struck the closest Russian soldier with the same dagger he used to assault the Duchess and her child. I pulled my sword out and pointed at the gates. Thousands of arrows hit the walls, and the people gathered there, killing many of them and creating a panic of the citywide dimensions. No, we could not hold it back. Not now. Even I did not have that power. The Russians made a mistake of trusting us. It was not for the first time. This was the opportunity that did not come too often. We had to use it and storm the city. Now, now, now. What was there to wait? The city was ripe for the taking so, take it. There was no fighting spirit left in there, but we were in high spirits. Of course, my grandfather was right when he told us not to waste an opportunity, but he never had an opportunity that good. No one ever had it that good, not even the ancients. I wonder what he would say if he saw it now. I think he would lead the charge.

The closest Mongols ran already to the gates trying to get there well before the Russians would be able to close it barring our way in. We could break the barriers down, but this was better. The gates were open. Faster, faster… Almost at the same time, the other units of my Western Army began scaling the walls. They were lying in wait just behind the bushes. While the entire city was on the walls watching the rape of the Duchess, our troops were inching closer to the wall on all other sides. Now we were attacking all sides pulling their defenses apart. The fight was short but fierce, and in about five hours, just before the sundown, everything was over, and Kiev was in our hands. Our losses were relatively small; a few hundred here and a few hundred there. A few Russian soldiers were able to break through trying to escape. The Tatars caught them by the river, cutting them to pieces. Well, it was not that easy. The Russians fought for their lives like the cornered rats. We lost there may be a dozen or two of the Tatars, but the Russians were dead, and their heads were presented to me. Come to think, Kiev took only two full days to fall, and it looked so strong and mighty. Well, the siege was another matter. That took a while. When you do it right, it takes time. Sometimes it takes a lot of time, months, and even years. You trade the lives of your people for the time. If you have time and the supplies, you save many lives. So, you have to create that time, liberate it from any other commitments. You need your people to be alive. But, if you are short on everything, you push, and you push, and you push. How else could you take cities? It was either a direct assault or a waiting game full of deceitful moves and the treason. We did it right, took time doing it, and saved a few Mongol lives. I think it was just right. That was our first big Russian city occupied by very aggressive and able soldiers, and we did not fail. I wondered back then if there was a limit to our power. Subutai was sure there was none. I knew then, we could conquer the world. We — Mongols of the world.

We always used the same tactics when we had to fight inside the city. The main idea was not to allow the defenders to gather into a considerable fighting force. We kept breaking them in smaller units using that for the crowd control purposes. The best way of doing that was to occupy all high grounds and the open spaces like the squares at the earliest possible stage. Push the defenders into the narrow streets. The defenders would not be able to gather much force in the close quarters and the narrow streets of the castle-like city. Kremlin was a castle and Kiev was a castle city. The castle structure was great when you defend it from the outside assault but, when the enemy was inside already and knew the layout, it could be a losing proposition. We knew the layout of every city we attached.

We had the spies there for weeks, and some Russians were ready to betray as well. They wanted the opportunity to survive and to profit while doing that. All that always worked to our advantage. We carefully studied every city layout using the specially trained spies. Our spies pretended to be the traders, traveling craftsmen, and the wandering dervishes. All of these people could enter any town or a city, stay there for a few days and move on. No one would pay attention to them. They were nothing; neither important nor attractive and so unthreatening. They also could do what they claimed to be good at and pay the bills. They had money, not much to attract attention but enough not to attract one. A few days in the city for a trained eye were more than enough to understand and to memorize the layout. No one ever got suspicious of my people, and rarely one of them got arrested or killed. People often thought of them as strange at least but not spies. I think it was because these people in their real lives were the traders, the traveling craftsmen, and the wandering dervishes. They knew the job and were good at it. They were spies on the side: some, for extra money and the perks; some, for the crimes, committed and some because they liked it. That made their lives exciting.

Spying was the domain of my Chinese advisors. They were the most skillful masters of blackmail and the bribe giving and taking, and Ogedei Khan was generous enough to provide me with a few of them. He knew that the successful war was not always decided on the battlefield. The battlefield was essential, but the things surrounding it could be even more critical. The right spy in the right place could win the battle and often the war without a shot fired. It happened before, and it will happen again. We even had a spy school, and the Chinese ran it. That school employed people from every corner of the world because that’s where we were going. And, spies were our avantgarde — the most advance guard. And we had plenty of good people available. Betrayal was in their blood, and so is in ours. Thus, we felt good about each other. They perfected spying to state of the art and contracted hundreds of people of all different trades and talents to serve us in peace and war. Yes, in peace and war. That was forward thinking. We had the spies, counter-spies, provocateurs, terrorists, and the commandos conducting surveillance, investigations, and assassinations. They also led all other acts of war necessary when the diplomacy failed to work or was not applicable due to the nature of relations. The enemy had never done it to the same degree, so, we had the upper hand. We had people in foreign cities and countries working for us for years. They were very respectful citizens of those cities and nations and were trusted. Some even held high positions. Yet, they worked for us betraying their own people at our first call. That was the well-qualified army behind the frontline.

Also, we had numerous internal informers to oversee and to control our own camps and the country. The entire empire was observed from within. We collected knowledge and, if needed, acted upon it. Education was the key to discovery, and discovery was the key to control. We assured that almost every ruler of our time, small or big, had an advisor or two working for us. That was an investment of utmost importance. Not even one enemy, internal or external, was safe from our eyes and ears and not even one friend, felt short of our attention. We tended to know everything or very close to that. A friend was not always a friend, and a foe was not always a foe. They could switch the camps at a moment’s notice. All we needed to do was to justify it for them.

What would it take for you to change the side, to look the other way, to lend us a helping hand? What would you like to have; what obstacle would you want to be removed? Who was in your way? We could make you rich beyond your imagination, or we could take your family and hold them until you come to your senses. What was it going to be? What would it take? Talk to us; we listen. Nothing you would say was strange to us. We heard it all and many times over. Did you think we were that naïve? No, we were not, not that much. We were quite experienced in the art of deception, lying, and betraying. We could give the lessons, but we won’t. This knowledge is not for share. This was strictly for private use, just for us. Everyone had a priority, but that could quickly change. Just show them how and what is on the other side.

The sticks and the carrots would do their work all the time. There could be shorter or longer sticks and fatter carrots, but that was up to you to find the right combination. If one of them did not work, increase the size of it until it worked. There should be something somewhere that you want and we can make it happen. There is always a breaking point, and where is yours? Do you want to be happy, happier, more satisfied? Talk to us; let us help. We can make you happier and even save your skin.

On the other hand, punish until it really hearts and bribe, so it really valued. As my grandfather said before and I concur, everyone had a breaking point. It could be big, or it could be small, but it is always there. There are no real heroes in the chambers of palaces. Nothing was as it seemed, so I tried hard to see it as it really was. Being “the ruler” often meant making hard decisions. We decided to be everywhere at once, and it worked to our advantage quite well. You always needed as many eyes and the ears as you could get. Spread your influence and firmly control it. Don’t be too greedy when it comes to spies. Many of them actually worth what you pay and often more. Some of them are unique and priceless. Often, they are the key to winning the war. Be hard when needed and smile when it serves the purpose but always remember them. Although it was a quite expensive approach, we found it comfortable and we rarely lost a war.

President Vagabundi

President Vagabundi was reading this ancient document for hours already. Sometimes it was not easy to understand, but he enjoyed it so much that time flew fast. What a power of the mind, the observation. What level of understanding the events and the will to manage the results. It was shocking and not at the same time. The events were known to some degree, but Batu was not. Batu definitely knew what he was doing and did it anyway. Was it the fare of the time? Was that expected of them? Blood and the brutal force were justified by greed or the necessity. Was killing the need? Was it? Was that the diplomacy of the day? Batu was not just the scary picture any longer; he had a voice and what voice that was. It was amazing.

Batu Khan was a brilliant man indeed, and they called him a barbarian. No, his thinking and the knowledge were well advanced. He was not much different from us now. He was superior, and that is why he was winning. Atrocities… They are happening even now, as we speak and for a lesser reason. Often, there was no reason at all. Just mass murder… This document may change the prevailing opinion of the great man and spark so many arguments. Now, we try to match facts with the stories. It sounded as Batu was pretty educated for the time, and that was on top of the military genius. No one doubted he was a genius. He was perfect in war, and his administration was unchallenged for so many years. Well, probably some tried, but they should’ve known better. Definitely, they did not die in bed from old age. Does it happen now? How often? Often. More often than not. It may happen today but not then and there. It was not that kind of society. Yes, he was a born master of power. He was destined to rule, and he ruled. What power. He made life and death decisions for so many. Almost every second of every day… And, this guy Subutai… A sociopath. A rapist. A murderer. He was a common criminal and a war criminal by any standard but then again, a military genius. He was the mastermind of the entire campaign. Are all military talents — criminals, or the other way around? Could you win a war and not break a few laws? War was always about violating the rules. You had your own set of rules. It’s like making an omelet without breaking the eggs. Was it even possible?

The Minister of Science and the Scientific/Technical Advisor to the President made a perfect copy of the original document translated to the modern Mongolian but filled with well-preserved integrity of the old manuscript. The translation from Mongolian to Mongolian was needed due to the eight hundred years gap between the present and the past. It was different now. Many things changed; everything changed.

Yet, it was beautiful, and the pages looked like they met Batu Khan himself but survived the encounter. That was a masterpiece of history, science, archeology, document restoration, and the preservation of the ancient artifacts. There were not too many written documents from that period and none from Batu or anyone of his station. They had done a better job than the President could expect. The photos of the original document were promptly attached, and the President could see the condition of it and the real handwriting of the second or the third most famous Mongol, Batu Khan — the conqueror of Russia and Eastern Europe. There could be a scribe recording his words, but no one knew that for sure. All we know that Batu could read and write. There were just a few of the Mongols that people remember, and he was one of them. Some parts of the document, not too many though, were missing due to the age and the condition of the manuscript. These pages have simply disintegrated with time and because of the humidity and the biologics in the grave filled with the bodies of soldiers killed in the battle or a few fights. Apparently, these bodies were added to the mass grave over the centuries, and the scientists did not know that until recently. There should be many places like that spread out around the world. This kurgan was only one of them yet, how many battles were fought and how many bodies had to be buried. What if we multiply it by thousands of years… This place was not too far from the Golden Horde location, so, everything was entirely possible. Still, this was one of the most important archeological discoveries of the century, and this President of Mongolia would enter the history books as the first non-scientist reading this diary. Batu Khan… The Golden Horde… Reading your word was like meeting you personally. What an honor to meet you, Great Khan. I would not ask, “How are you?”. I know it from the diary already. You just spoke to me, in your loud voice and told the story. What a story. Are there more stories you want to tell me? What would you say if you were here and now? What else was on your mind back then and there? Would you tell me more? Please, do.

The material was fascinating. All of it was strange, so unusual. Batu Khan was talking so openly, so plainly; not hiding anything. He was just sharing his thoughts and observations, and he saw everything, not missing even a slight bit. He was talking to a friend, to himself, to the future. Batu Khan was tasked with conquering everything west of Volga River, and he was set to do that no matter what. Nothing could stop his conquest, not the enemies, and not even friends. The Mongols and the other Nomads were adapted to harsh climates, hard living conditions, hunger, thirst, sicknesses, the violence of wars, and they dealt with the people they met with the same harshness. That was their way, their understanding. If you chose to stand in their way, you would be treated without mercy.

Why should you be any different? They kept moving forward no matter what and not looking back. That’s the life of a Nomad. Why even to look back? What was there but the wasteland and the past? You do not want to go back to the past, not really. Past had more past, and that’s what you escaped from moving forward. That was why you were moving forward in the first place. You just want to remember it, maybe. Would the locust look back at the empty field it just left? Would the fire look back at the burnt down house? Would the Mongols and the Tatars look back at the village they just atrophied? No, the excellent feeding grounds were just ahead, out there, in the West. That’s the goal. West was waiting for them but not welcoming. There could be a death, but then, there could be a treasure beyond the imagination. So, what is it going to be? No, it was not clear at all. Thus, go there as far as only possible, as far as the earth takes you, to the last sea. Go there, conquer it, get your fill, and by the time you get back, the wasteland you left would flourish again. That’s what you always liked. That was beautiful. Now, you can settle down and live off the land if that’s what you desire. Or start a new cycle.

Ever since the President received it early in the morning via the secret service messenger, he was reading it non-stop. President Vagabundi had canceled all meetings and appointments for today. The schedule was free entirely. He even ate at the desk where he was reading. He was sitting in his celebrated Presidential office surrounded by the national flag, ancient weapons, paintings of the vast Mongolian steppes and the photographs of the Mongols riding the small but so famed horses. These horses were responsible for the vast empire as much as the Mongols themselves. No one could make it without those horses, and no one had. Well, but the Great Khans led them both. There, across the room, was an antique Chinese painting on silk of Ogedei Khan (Son of Genghis Khan) — the only Mongolian Emperor of China. He founded the Yuan dynasty that ruled the Mongolian Empire, including China for about a hundred years. A hundred years was not that long in the history of the world but in the history of one country, the country where the thrones could go in any direction with no prior warning, it was an eternity. Thrones — what a powerful magnet that was. And, the invaders, the low barbarian Mongols by the Chinese standards, kept it for a hundred years. That was amazing and quite cunning. How could they do it and for so long? The competition was fearless. Reading this diary, the personal account of the Kiev siege, the President, could see that the ancient Mongols were quite “crafty” with everything they needed, when they needed it. Lies and betrayals were a part of everyday life. Did they lie to each other that easily as well? Did they betray each other that easily as well? They built such powerful alliances that lasted for a long time. Some continued for dozens of years. That could not be based on lies and betrayals. That could be found only on truth, trust, and honor. And, we are talking of Machiavelli. Machiavelli? Italians, French, Germans… Poles and the Russians? Machiavellianism was just a foolish child play in comparison with the Mongols at their peak. They really did it. The Trojan Horse… How could you even relate it to the Kiev siege by Batu Khan? The cunning of Subutai… The Golden Horde and all other hordes at all times. The Greeks took ten years to work out the betrayal, and the Trojan Horse and the Mongols did it just in a few months. No, that was the pinnacle of deception of all times. It was cruel but wise. It was fascinating, just fascinating. One would not even dream of something like that. How did Batu Khan look like? What were his likes and dislikes? No, how did he really look like? How did Subutai look like? What did he like and dislike? Do we have pictures of him, them? The President wanted to see anything and everything belonging to one of the most infamous, butchers in the history of humanity. He wanted to see if there were any human qualities, any realism in any of those pictures.

“Minister! Sorry to bother you so late and at home.” The voice of the President was so agitated. The President rarely, if ever, called the Minister home. Whatever it was, could wait until morning. After all, what could be that important in science? The Minister of Science could not even get an appointment with the President on short notice. The Ministry was in the second or the third place to anything else, and he just was not that important in the larger scheme of things. He was needed there only when he was needed there. Mostly, he was left alone to take care of his underbudgeted problems in the utmost innovative way. But, then, no one really cared. Science in Mongolia usually had no place at the Government table. So, this was very unusual. Something must have happened, and he was summoned to take care of it.

“Yes, Mr. President. This is quite all right. What can I do for you?” The Ministers voice was shaking. It could be anything. What if it was the bad news?

“I’ve been reading this book, this document, you gave me. The Batu Khan diary. What do we know of Batu Khan and Subutai? I mean, what do we really know. Give me everything we know but in a condensed form. Do we know how they looked like? Members of their families? I want to see that. When can I see all that, Minister?”

“I can have almost everything ready for you by the day after tomorrow. We know many things and have some drawings and paintings of them and some of the families. They were not very good considering when it was done and by whom and the age, of course. Still, it gives us some idea. Again, not much but some. I would say we have a good idea of what they were and how they looked like. We even have some artifacts that belonged to them, maybe. Do you want to see the originals or some good reproductions? I have a perfect reproduction at the national museum. Would you like to come over and see them or you want the copies to be made and delivered to you? If you come over, we could show you more, much more. You see, everything you want to see is right there, on the walls and in the storages. Definitely, we could show you more. Well, whatever is better for you, we can do. When were you in the National Museum the last time?”

“Yes, I want you to make the copies of everything and deliver them to me. The sooner, the better. If I decide to come over and see more, I’ll let you know. I like the museum. I went there maybe a year ago, and it was outstanding. They do an excellent job over there. Good people. What about the skeletons in the grave? What did you find there? Clothes, weapons, artifacts… When can I see that? Did you find anything interesting there? Unusual… There could be a trove of treasure in there. Artifacts and as such. Did you find any other documents? Paper, parchment, whatever else they used back then. They used to write on silk as well. Is it correct? Did you find any silk?”

“We are cleaning everything we found up and preserving it now. We have found a few exciting things. I would suggest you wait for a few months until we finish and then, see it as it should be. Yes, it should not take more than maybe three months of very intense work. We have the resources in place. We have some money and several outstanding people. We even got one scientist from America, Chicago of all places. He accepted a small salary just to work on our findings. I could not offer him more, but he can write and publish some articles after we approve it. This is hard work, but so rewarding. No questions, we can do it, but it will take some time. Give us three-four months, and you’ll see it all. Can you believe it? We have found Batu Khan and Subutai.” The Minister of Science was very excited now. If the President was so interested in this discovery, the National Museum could get some extra funds. They needed it so badly. The Minister was in a good position now to present the question. The moment was right.

“Mr. President. For a while already, I wanted to ask you a fundamental question. We need another million dollars a year for the museum, and I cannot get it into the budget and especially now, with the money shortage. Could you help me, please? You can see what we are doing and how hard it is. I just need to buy some new equipment and hire a few more good people. Science is so important to all of us.” It was a very bold move on the part of the Minister, but he needed help. He did not go to the President. The President came to him. It may work after all. The President was a good man, and he understood.

“I’ll tell you this, Minister. You get me a good face reconstruction on Batu Khan and Subutai, and I’ll give you the money for a few of your most important pet projects. How about that? I want to see their faces. Can you do that? How long will it take? Do you have to go to America for that? Can your people do that? What do you need for that?” Questions were popping like the popcorn — loud and crispy. The President wanted to see how those people looked like, really looked like and that should be better than the old drawings by the questionable painters. Oh, that was huge. The Minister could not fail that one. That could be the pinnacle of his career. If he did it right, he could write his own ticket. Just do not rush, use the opportunity, and do it right. Right now, the President was on your side.

“Mr. President. Our people cannot do that, but we could go to China or Russia for that. Americans and the British can probably do a better job, but they cost more, and we cannot afford it. Unless you want to do it that way and would authorize the expense. Do you? I think we can get it done and for the right price. After we get it done, we can set up a new exhibition in our National Museum. That would be so huge. The whole world would love to see it. Also, we can lend the exhibition to some other museums around the world, and that would bring us more recognition and, therefore, money. It is done all the time, and with our discovery, everyone would want it in their country. That could be a gold mine that could pay for all expenses and then some. For many, this is just a dream, and we are holding it in our hands. Something like that would boost our tourism to the height we could never imagine. That would bring hard currency, investments, trade. It would help our country all around. We would be back on the map again. I am certain of that. This is such a rare opportunity. What luck. Give me six months or so, and we will have the reconstructed faces. I think China would do a good enough job for us and for less. Russia… I hate Russia, and I know, you do too. Even if they are less expensive, we will end up paying more. That’s the Russians for you. I think China is better no matter how we look at it. They are just better people for us. In the meantime, we can start to publicize it using whatever means we can master. I have the media and the computer people working on it already. They are putting a new website together as we speak. We should see it completed by the end of the week. I am going to invite the National Geographic magazine from America and the Discovery TV Channel. It should give us a good start. They do not charge anything and may even pay us something. Also, we will publish the articles in the scientific publications of the world. Are you concerned with anything else in my area, Sir? Any questions, comments?” The Minister of Science was all ears. He wanted to please the President so much utilizing the good opening he had already on the table. His Ministry could become very important and quite influential. This was a chance of a lifetime many never had. Yes, because of all this, they may get some extra money. No, they probably will. The President was hooked with the diary and who would not. That was the voice from the past, a very distant past.

“No, Minister, this is fine. Work on it and keep me informed. I want to see all these materials, and I want a weekly progress report. You are doing a good job. Keep it up. Come over for breakfast the day after tomorrow, let’s say, at nine and bring the materials I want. Good luck.” The phone went dead.

“That was a good call,” thought the Minister. “Things were looking up,” thought the President. Things did look up, and in so many ways, none of them could even comprehend for now. Was history turning a new leaf?

Ulaanbaatar

BATU KHAN

President Arban Vagabundi put the phone into the cradle, poured himself a stiff brandy and settled down in the winged chair to continue reading the most fascinating document he ever read. If it were a book of fiction, it would be fascinating, but as a real document, it was triple exciting, if not more. It was more than the history itself. It was the truth. It should’ve been called “The truth, according to Batu Khan.” The words of Batu Khan could have been his own if he lived back then and was as powerful as the Great Khan. Well, not too many people were that powerful. Just a few, just a few… Even the most powerful kings of the time were more limited than the Mongol rulers. The Roman Caesars could not even dream of the power Batu Khan had. He was like a god, more than a god. He was a Mongolian Khan, and for the Mongols, that was more than a God. What a story. What a legend.

The President liked to think of himself as a descendant of the great khans of the past. Every Mongol was a descendant of great khans in one way or another, but Arban believed that he was a reincarnation of one of them and maybe even Batu’s. He ordered lunch to be delivered to his office and went back to reading. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. President Vagabundi had never ordered the true Mongolian steak calling it the “savage food of the savages,” but this time, he did. It was a piece of raw meat (any meat could be used, but the horse meat was traditional) placed under the saddle of a horse while someone was riding it hard. The meat would get marinated in horse’s sweat in the warm environment. The hotter outside, the better. It would become a strangely smelling quite different in taste but extremely tender delicacy. The horse sweat was the tenderizer. For some, it was revolting, but for a few, it was a rare pleasure. It was not the Mongolian beef served in American restaurants but something else that came through the ages and from the Mongolian steppes.

That was raw foul-smelling meat with a sharp distinguished taste. Even the Mongols of the steppes rarely ate it in the modern days. It was too pungent and quite rough on the gentle souls of the modern Mongols. But, the President wanted to experience the words coming from ancient history to the full extent of its meaning. Savages and the savage food. Everything counted. The surroundings counted. The feelings counted. The smell, the taste, weapons, costumes, customs, pictures, and the images of the violence unprecedented in history made this experience almost real. They were like the wild animals tearing the prey apart while it was still alive. Nothing ever slowed the killing frenzy down. Even the weather could help to recreate the deeper sense of feeling when you try to understand the past events. This time the weather was willing to contribute. The ice storm with a lot of snow and an extreme wind started a few days ago growing stronger, more violent, and very loud. It was almost like it was trying to communicate something to the people, and people had to stop whatever they were doing and listen. There was a lesson in it, a morsel of wisdom. Was it the gods, the gods of war, the gods of Mongolia or Batu Khan trying to make them see it his way, the right way. The Mongolian way… This weather and this room with all the artifacts from the Mongolian past were setting the right mood, and that counted. It all counted. And, everything spoke to the President, sometimes whispering but often loud and clear. The main message, though, was loud and clear. Everything was important if to understand the real meaning of the written words. Was it the unprecedented violence of the Mongols? Was it common? Did not the others do the same things at a different time and maybe even in the larger proportions? Were the Mongols any different from the others, or just more forceful?

Who was right, and who was wrong? Just how do we measure that? Who has won and who had lost? Is that the number of the dead? Or, the living? On which side? Was that the war crimes? Was not war crime by itself? How do you fight the war wearing the white gloves, without killing, pillaging, raping, and doing the rest of the fun things? Fun… Why did you come here in the first place? Was that the part of the fun or the necessity? Could one killing be righteous and another one not? Mercy killing? How do you define that? Could one rape be acceptable and the other demanding the punishment? Was it who raped whom, or the circumstances? What punishment was fit for any of the war crimes? Should that be death for any crime committed or not prevented, or a slight fine because of the war? Should you be punished for taking the boots from the dead? He did not need it any longer. Was that a defendable excuse? Should we punish everyone for everything or not for lesser crimes? Then, where do we stop? Would you prevent war crime if you could? What does it mean “if you could”? You had a weapon and a rank. Why did not you use it? “The war made me do it,” you could hear that in one courtroom after another. The media repeats it even chance it has. “The devil took over me.” “I could not resist.” “I am just a weak man.” That could be a legitimate excuse for all we know. Or, just an excuse. Could that be an excuse at all? Could we accept the war as an excuse for anything? Could a bigger crime be an excuse for the smaller ones? Accept the smaller charges and cooperate.

How does the victim feel if the crime committed on him/her was smaller or bigger than the one committed on the neighbor? What did that neighbor feel? Did we ever ask? Do we care? Does it make any difference to the victim? Do they care who the perpetrator of the crime was? Do they deserve the same vengeance no matter who victimized them? If it was the murder of one or a thousand, the culprits should hang together, and the size of the crime should not matter much for as long as it was a crime. One or two punishment should fit it all. Bigger crime and the smaller crime. You stole, let’s cut off your hand. You raped, let’s cut off your dick. You killed, let’s cut off your head. You betrayed, let’s cut out your heart. That should prevent some, if not most of the crimes from happening. Some would think more before perpetrating a crime. Some would think… Yet, how do you stop the war, small or big? That the biggest crime of all. War! The Central Asian tribes, the Romans, the Vikings, the Crusaders, the Ottomans, the Muslims, Hitler, Stalin, Mao Zedong, and the smaller dictators have done it all. Did not they? Some are still doing it as we speak. Some are thinking of it, hard. Many, no, all, have committed the genocide. Was it big or small? Does it matter? Did the Mongols commit genocide? Did they? Well, did they? No, the President was not there to judge any of them. He was there to read and to speak to one of the greatest people of Mongolia — Batu Khan.

“The campaign in Kievan Russia was relatively easy. Well, of course, it was physically demanding on us, but we did not lose too many people. Actually, we lost less than we planned on losing. I did not have to employ all the reserves, and we had plenty of food and fresh horses. Still, we had to fight and to suffer the hardship conquering the world. The war consisted of multiple battles for towns of some importance that could not defend themselves against us with any degree of success. They were so outdated in everything: tactics, weapons, manpower, moral, and even supplies. How could that be? Supplies? Yes, I could understand it if you were attacked suddenly, with no prior warning. That was their land, and they knew about us well in advance. They saw us gathering the forces and moving in. They knew of the burnt towns, the massacres, and slavery. They saw us, and they knew it all. Why were they short on supplies? Why could not they prepare for the siege? Why did they always starve instead of getting ready? That was the leader’s responsibility. No, the Russian Dukes and the Princes did not know how to lead their people in war. Did they know how to lead people in peace? Even the big towns did not look like they did well. Was it the way they lived? Was it the ethnic thing? Some of the Russian serfs told us that to be a Russian serve in many cases was much worse than to be a Mongol slave. The Russian Boyars were merciless. Our slaves were slaves one way or another, only we treated them almost as good as we treated horses, and that was good by their standards. The Russian Dukes did not treat anyone good, even the horses. So, the Russian did not feel sorry seeing their nobility go. They would’ve done that themselves if they could. Could we do better than the Russian Boyars did? We will try. I am sure we could. Anything was better for the serfs than the Russian Nobility. It was not our goal to starve or to murder the Russians. We wanted them to prosper to some degree and to make us thrive with no limit. We could do that. That concept of Genghis Khan worked before and hopefully still works now.

We conquered almost all the towns and the cities of any significance, leaving the North and the deep South of the country intact. Cities that did not resist were left with little and often, no damages. They promised to pay the tributes, and we believed them because they knew what would happen if they did not. Just go to a neighboring town and see for yourself. Don’t be shy. This is very educational. We set the tribute modest, so they could afford it and not to revolt because of that. Every revolt, even a small one, was quite costly to us. It was costly, politically, and financially. I had to send people there to put the rebellion down. The gossips would spread. Sometimes I lost a few warriors. Sometimes I had to do it again and again. I needed my people elsewhere and not in the graves. Revolts were costly no matter how you look at it and had to be put down. Thus, we never squeezed too hard the ones that were willing to co-operate.

Let them be a little better off, and some others would see the difference and join the Horde. It happens and often. Many towns were burned to the ground, and the citizens were killed or taken into slavery. Well, more were enslaved and then, set free as the serfs, but to us, staying where they were. They were kind of slaves that were given some limited freedom. Well, they had plenty of freedom. On rare occasions, they could even buy freedom for themselves and their families. That was rare but possible, and they knew that, and many dreamed about. They needed a good dream. We did not mind. It paid off and quite well. Often, I gave the land to my relatives, great soldiers, and the commanders. Thus, those serfs were their serfs and under the protection of our laws. We tried to give the serfs a chance. We knew from the history that the conqueror had to scare the conquered people and keep them scared if he wanted to rule that country for a long time with little or no organized resistance. Unfortunately, we had to kill the able fighting men so, it would take a while before the new fighting generation would become strong enough to take on us.

By that time, living under our rule and the indoctrination, many would be in our employment actually supporting us. Many would be mixed with us, becoming us. Many would assimilate into our society. We have to grow in every occupied territory as many collaborators as only possible using any available means. Everyone depending on us will help. It should not be just the stick (the sword in our case) but mostly the carrots. People should have hopes, many hopes. Why not? We could offer the hopes. We knew how to dream, and we shared it. They lived better than the others, and that was always good.

We definitely failed in the Russian North. It was a heavily wooded area with a terrible climate and very aggressive people that were a hundred percent Northmen (the Vikings). I don’t think there was even a trace of the Slavic blood in them not that it was plenty anywhere else we went. Were the Slaves ever there? These people were much taller, solidly built, and smarter than the Russians from the central part of the land. I say they are more innovative in everything. They could live off the land, they worked the land and could defend what they had voraciously. They never accepted the loss. Also, while the whole country was divided into small useless, but very independent fiefdoms, North was quite united.

Yes, they had a few warlords fighting each other for one thing or another but, as soon as we approached, they became united under the same leader. It was quite interesting to observe. You rarely see anything like that anywhere. And that happened fast. Subutai was fascinated with it trying to figure out how it worked. But, there was something we could not understand, not yet. We will figure it out eventually, just give us time and a few collaborators. We tried to break that unity, but nothing had brought the desired results. They were like the Khazars, the Jews. They stick together, and you cannot bribe or blackmail your way in. We hold together but not like that. Jews were all over the horde, and we knew them well. They were partners, friends, brothers. I trusted them more than some of the Mongols, not speaking of the other tribes that were swelling our numbers.

Should I try to understand the Jews better to understand the Vikings? Was there a link there? That could be the answer. Anyway, we could not break through, at the North, not there and not without losing too many people. On top of all these problems, my soldiers were not as active fighting in the densely wooded area as in the open field. We were from the steppes, and those people were from the forest, and we were fighting in the woods. They knew the lay of the land, and we had to learn it. It was not working as it should, and we could not wait forever. In the end, after losing at least half of a Tumen and the numerous Tartars, I decided to heavily guard these areas of the North. If I could not go in, I did not want them to come out and help the rest of the country. Those Northern people were capable and could change the situation if they attacked us from the north and in force. But, they never did. In a few years after that, we never saw a war party breaking out of there in the direction of the South. They fought mainly in the North with the other Vikings but not us.

Often, we could see the trading caravans and the longboats going south. They always used the rivers we controlled. Well, we controlled all rivers in the vicinity but not always enforced the rules. They paid the dues, the tribute and we always welcomed them. More, we gave them protection and guaranteed safety. It was a good practice and, we saw life coming back to the area with trade and crafts and plenty of food. Soon, we were seen not as invaders but the partners and could be friends. Come to think, they were good people and we did not mind their company. We could be friends, and that could last. Again, my policy was not to take everything from them but to leave enough so, they could breathe, and keep prospering. That paid off much better. Trading with those people was much better than fighting with them, and I ordered to protect them not disturbing the fragile balance of peace. Every peaceful development was promoted and supported. We had to look in the future and beyond the war.

Considering the size of Russia and the number of people, I decided to leave Pskov and Novgorod controlled by its own Dukes. It was somewhat safer for now. These two cities gave me the most significant barrier between the very aggressive knights of Europe and us. I could not take on Russia and an entire Europe all at the same time. I needed to split it into the manageable pieces and handle it that way. More people would be required, and they were coming, but I needed time to put the campaign together. When these knights applied too much pressure on Pskov and Novgorod and actually started the crusade against us, I moved on Europe. It was the right time. Europe was in disarray even more than Russia. Still, they had a religious unity of some sort. They called it Christianity. They believed in a fairytale with an idol called Jesus Christ right in the middle of it. They were building so many churches for him, so he would reside there and filled them with the best paintings and sculptures. The churches were full of gold, and the servants of God were living in luxury; the people of the country did not have. The people were starving; thus, hated the ruling class and the church. The Christians believed that Christ was a Jew who came from the Jewish lands, but the Jews had never heard of him. This was a strange religion, which had the negative and the positive sides for us, Mongols if we wanted to conquer the Christian lands. The negative side was in the possible unity of the Christian warriors regardless of their nationality. They proved it conceivable with the Crusades going to the expanse called Palestine and fighting the Muslims. They could, and they did call the knights to arms when we invaded the Balkans, Poland, and Hungary. The good thing was that they kept fighting and losing in Palestine for a long time already. The fighting people, including most of the knights, kept going there and not too often coming back. This useless fighting stripped Western Europe of the most capable fighting force. The Fifth Crusade was another huge disaster for the stupid Christians, but the church kept pushing it. It was questionable if even the church believed in the crusades, but that was the Church’s solution to the European problems. That is how the church wanted to shift the blames in the other direction, away from the Vatican and the greedy nobility. Thousands of European soldiers from all countries died in Palestine and on the way there. They even fought each other for the little money made. What did they gain? What was the end game? How can you effectively control a territory thousands of miles away? The Romans tried it before and failed, and the opposition did not have an organized resistance as the Saracens had. They were a formidable power in the whole of Middle East. They were many, well adjusted to the area and at home. They ruled there for about a thousand years already growing stronger and stronger. The Christians could win one battle or a few but could not stay there for any prolonged time. The land did not want them. The Christians did not belong there, and the whole Middle East was fighting them not could ting each other. They were the biggest enemies to themselves, and they paid for that in blood.

The highway robbery and kidnapping for ransom was quite popular at the time even if you wore the crusader’s cross. Many thought you became rich in the Middle East. Thousands more were always in transition between Europe and Palestine, and many became the victims of the locals. That did not make it any easier. Sicknesses, the Black Death — a devastating global epidemic of the bubonic plague and the famine added to the state of disarray making Europe wide open for our invasion. They missed us coming, and we timed it just right.

When my spies informed us that another huge army went to Palestine, we moved in. Even if that army turns around and comes back to fight us, it would be too late already. Distance and timing were so important, and it was on our side. The Christians were looking in the wrong direction all the time. I did not think they were that stupid. How could they miss us for the mythical Jesus Christ? We were right here, and he was nowhere. He was so elusive, and we were not even hiding. That’s the power of brainwashing for you. Christ was not even in Palestine, and we were knocking the doors of their houses in Europe down already. Yes, that was my opening, and I took it. That was the opportunity of the lifetime, and we seized it. My advisers were absolutely correct; it was written in the stars, and I think in huge letters. Our holy men are saying that everything is predetermined, written in the stars. I say we choose what path to take, and then, we follow what was written in the stars. It was up to us to select the turn of events.

Islam was a prominent religion. At least half of my soldiers, at the time, were Muslims and I had to consider that. We, Mongols, were very tolerant of religion. Why would we care? How was it our problem? We preferred to ignore it, and that helped us considerably. I do not believe religion should run your life and influence the decisions. That is just your point of view. Still, one has to pay respect to the spirits and, especially, of your ancestors. Those are your ancestors. That’s very important, and we followed and obeyed all that was prescribes by the shamans and the healers. They knew the spirits and the spirit’s world. Yet, that was only for the ones that believed in it. If you believed in anything else and wanted to pray to god in any other way, that’s your business. Why should we care? That was my policy, and I vigorously enforced it.

My grandfather, the great Genghis Khan, was the same way. I learned it from him and my parents. All that was very wise and one of the most sensible policies we introduced. My grandfather called it “The Freedom of Religion” and “Spiritual Freedom.” In our Golden Horde, we had every religion there is. There were Jews, Christians, Muslims, Mystics, Necromants, Hinduists, Taoists, and anyone else who believed in something different. For as long as you were a part of us and did not do anything stupid that might hurt us or our goals, you were just fine and welcome. Serve your God in any way you liked. If your religion made you better in one way or another, it was good for us. Our Muslims were not very devoted Muslims but, nevertheless, they still were Muslims, and we had to respect that. Because of that and some other reasons, we tried to maintain good relations with the Muslim Empire of the Middle East. Well, to some degree. The Muslims of the Middle East believed that our war in Europe helped them to fight off the Crusades. I think it actually did. Thousands of the European knights had to stay back home, and not go to Palestine and all because of us.

We did the Middle Eastern Muslims favors, and they did us favors. And, we all protected the endless caravans as the most essential thing in our economies. The Silk Road was booming, better than ever, and that was the most excellent example of trust and complete cooperation. War or no war, the goods and the people had to move throughout the world. Money, the economy had to circulate to grow. Neither side ever violated the agreements and, if anything went wrong, both teams did everything possible fixing it. And, occasionally things did go wrong. Yes, the brigands were trying to make a living off raiding the caravans, but they never lasted for long. We dealt with them in the harshest possible way, making an example of the punishment, and we did it every time. Still, more would come thinking that they were smarter, luckier, better warriors. Neither us nor the Muslims would forgive them and lessen the sentence. That was the law. The Silk Road was too important to us, to them, to the whole world. It was like the most vital blood artery connecting the world of the East. West was not there yet, and I was destined to bring it in. The bloodline of the East was only trickling in the West, but I was about to change it and for good. Yes, the Silk Road was an unquestionable priority to everyone. No one in the East could survive without it.

The “free” Russians of Pskov and Novgorod had informed us of the plans of the Western European knights to start crusading against us. Our policies in that region worked already. We were cooperating with the Russians, and they saw the hope in it. We smiled and kept our options open. We rewarded the informants well and promised more if they keep cooperating. They assured us of that and kept the word. It was a beneficial arrangement for both sides. I did not like the information about the knights and of their plans, and Subutai was furious, demanding the invasion of the West right away. I did not think we were ready yet and told him to slow down and to start preparing for the big war. It could last for years. That would be a massive undertaking even for us, and it should be done on our terms.

This western land was far from our bases, and we needed almost everything. I could not categorically rely on feeding off the occupied territory. It sounded great, but it never indeed worked. You get some supplies and pay for it with spreading your forces out and even losing some people. Foraging was a hard and costly way to supply your people. I needed everything in one fist. I learned the lessons of my grandfather when he had time and was willing to teach us. Western Europe was in ruins due to constant skirmishes between the local barons, terrible famine, plague, and the crusades. They did it to themselves. Did they understand that? Crusades and the religious hysterics took away the able bodies leaving Western Europe quite open for anyone to invade it. If it were not us, it would be someone else. Who? Could the Russians do that? I think so, but they would have to come under one ruler first. It was hard even to imagine. They were not there yet and would not be there for a long while, especially when we were there.

We will do whatever it took to keep them divided. And, if the Russians moved, we would’ve come much earlier. I did not really worry about resistance. I knew that the Western countries could not gather a force capable of giving me any serious trouble, not with all the problems they had, and they had plenty. I worried about the supplies. That would take time and considerable resources. I had both, and we needed patience. My calculations showed that we needed at least 50,000 horses more, three new Tumens and then, two more in about six months after the invasion started. That is five Tumens altogether, and I had only two in training at the moment. They should be ready in about a month. The new Tumens would take at least three months of training plus the time to recruit good people. That could be six to eight months altogether. Also, they had to come over, and that takes time. There is another month, at least. Many people were coming to us asking to make them the Mongolian soldiers, but only a few would qualify. They had to be good soldiers already, but we would make them better. I rather wait and get the right people than to rush and lose the war. But, the most important thing is to move the bases closer to Western Europe. We also need to create a few jumping points.

Why did I need so many troops? Well, the territories were tremendously vast and heavily populated. And, I needed to leave the strong garrisons along the way to control the conquered countries and to protect the supply routes. Thus, I need a massive force. I could raise it, giving time and a lot of patience. Patience was a virtue, not all of us had. Actually, it was a very rare attribute. We were more of the spontaneous people. Subutai was like a very young groom on the wedding night. He could not wait for anything; he wanted it now. I love him, I trust him, but it should be the way my grandfather did it. It should be done right.

Patience is still a virtue, and impatience could cost you everything, lives for sure. No, impatience is something we can’t have at all. We cannot afford it at any cost. I have to control Subutai but gently. He is so fragile under that toughness of the fighting Mongol. All that, everything, was too important to overlook. A slight miscalculation in supplies could cost you the entire campaign and maybe thousands of lives. No, no, not the enemies but your people. And we often see it on the other side. Also, the emperor would not forget it quickly, and that will cost you personally. In Central Asia, one had to be cautious with the others, always. That could be your life. That could be your family. It was not a comfortable world to live in, even if you were a Khan. Enemies were so easy to make and so hard to get rid of. They would hide the feelings until it was time to strike, to poison, a knife in your back. I always try not to make enemies or, if you made one, don’t let him live long enough to hit back. Children of the dead enemy would always tend to pay back. Control those children in one way or another. Everything, every option, should be on the table. Listen to the eldest. You and your family come first. They and their families don’t count, not in the long run. You are important, and they are not. You represent the dynasty, and they pose a danger.

So, I gave an order to gather and to deliver to my camp 50,000 horses and another 50,000 in six months after that and at least two new Tumens (Tumen is a unit of ten thousand men) of soldiers. We also needed meat for a hundred thousand soldiers, clothes, weapons, and silk shirts. I have the campsites and the small hordes located within hours from the main group. That’s where the horses would stay, and the soldiers gathered and trained. The stores and especially food, are going to be mostly at the main camp. It would be safer here, with the most loyal Mongols and me. The Khazars will manage and multiply it as they had always done it.

Good people. It was a stroke of genius on my grandfather part to befriend them. It is still a very prosperous relation. Frankly, I am getting closer and closer to them. I like their company and everything about them. Good people. All Mongols loved them, and they never let us down. I wish we had more of them, but there are limits. Well, meat could walk by itself. So, hundreds of herds with horses, cattle, lamb, and the goats had to follow us managed by the Tartars and their families. The camp followers were mostly responsible for that. The Kazakhs were good with that task as well. They also were from the steppes and understood the way of life there. Many of them were nomads and knew the animals on the move. They were a great help when we moved, and they could fight. What else do I need from them? If the families of my soldiers (from any tribe) also wanted to follow us, they had to work as well. They operated the trains following us with the supplies, wounded, animals, and the members of the families. They would handle the animals and tend the wounded. It was very beneficial for all of us.

I am not responsible for the Tartars or any of the families following us. They had to self-supply what was needed and to protect themselves. We would help in any way possible if needed. That was the deal. Well, that was our goodwill. They came alone voluntarily, and they fought willingly and then, they participated in sharing the spoils. True, my soldiers had the first pick, but the Tartars always had the towns for days afterward. They made a good living following us, and we had the additional fighters and the comfort of the home when we needed it. Still, when they required, we helped them. Usually, it was some provisions or weapons. Our doctors went to their camps as well.

In our world, you do not deny food to a hungry, and you protect the weak at the moment of weakness. We all have days like that. We are only people. They helped us, we helped them, and that is how the horde stays together and strong. We are strong and very powerful. I am the Great Khan, but they have the own Khans, the warlords, and the tribal leaders. Even if I did not like them and preferred to boil them in the hot oil, I would show respect and honor them every time I see them. They have the honored place at my table, and I always welcome them. I do not always like that, but I do it every time. But, if they break the rules, they boil in hot oil. It happens, sorry to say, way too often. I really hate it when it happens, but I have to maintain my power no matter what. We have the laws, and we follow them even when the member of the own family is involved. If I must be harsh, so be it. But, if I could be friendly, that would be my choice.

The silk shirts and silk, in general, were the luxuries all my soldiers and the Tatars had to have. Silk, in many instances, was better against the arrows than the armor. It was proven. Everyone in Central Asia and the Middle East knows that but not everyone is using it because of the cost. But we do. The flying arrow is not perfect and spins and quite fast. When it hits the lightness of the silk spinning it into some kind of a knot, the energy gets all wasted on that. The silk takes it all, protecting the body inside. Of course, it did not work like that all the time, but most of the time. In the worst case, the arrow would not penetrate as deep as it could have. That’s what we saw a thousand times, in every battle. I noticed that a bolt from a good crossbow shot from a close distance might penetrate silk fifty percent of the time, if not more. But, from the same distance, it would penetrate the body armor almost always. So, there is a safety benefit.

Thus, I made sure that all my warriors, regular soldiers, and the Tartars, wore silk shirts in the battle as the standard equipment. Therefore, every campaign we went through hundreds of thousands of silk shirts. I spent a fortune on that but Subutai supported me wholeheartedly, and Ogedei allowed that luxury. He thought it was a good policy. Ogedei kept supplying us with silk from China. His Chinese soldiers wore silk shirts as well. This was very practical. I think it came from China in the first place. Chinese are very innovative in many regards. I do not believe we would be as powerful as we are if not for the Chinese and their knowledge of many things. They support science and practice it religiously. Again, religion has a secondary place in their society, but science is very supported and acknowledged there. Science comes first. Thus, we have the gun powder, cannons, crossbows, the silk shirts, noodles, rice, paper money, bamboo spears, printing and the liberal philosophy that is not always humane, but we try. The Chinese are so different from us in many respects, yet they are so close. They taught us a lot, and we pay back with kindness, treating them better than some others. We are a part of the Chinese empire, and China is a part of our empire.

Yes, we always have to choose what enemy should be closer to us because they are all enemies in the end. They would stick a knife in your back given a chance, so do not give them that chance. You never know who an enemy is more — your friend or a foe. Keep your friends close and the enemies even closer. Keep your eyes and the ears open and have a lot of spies on the payroll. There is no such thing as too many spies, and the knowledge of what people are doing is priceless. Use the stick and the carrot, always both, and they would stay somewhat loyal to you. No one is totally loyal to you, but the hopes and the threads together could make it somewhat workable. Threaten families. Hold hostages. And, promise rewards.

One should never lie about either of it. Always deliver what was promised, good or bad, so people will know what was coming. Keeping your word to the point is your integrity. Keep your word even if you do not like the situation. In the swamp full of prowling predators masquerading as your friends, one has to learn the rules, master them well and then, better the “friends.” One had to do it every time if to survive. That’s what the grandfather used to say time and time again. Was he wrong? He knew it so well, he learned it well. He taught us well. And Subutai was the master of the game. He has the acute feeling of something going wrong. He could feel the plot brewing and the plotters getting ripe. They should know it by now and be smarter yet, we have something brewing all the time. Stupid but what can you do. Usually, it happens in faraway camps where our control is somewhat weaker. So, we put more spies in hoping that someone would inform us in time. What a waste, what a waste but you cannot avoid it. That life in the modern world. No matter how much power and wealth you possess, you want more and then, you lose. Does greed ever pay in the end? Should we ask the greedy ones?

Would I plot a revolt? Would I revolt against my own blood? No, not unless my life is threatened already. And even then, I’ll try to resolve the issue peacefully. Ogedei knows that. All of my relatives know that, and that is why they trust me more than the others. I rather stand with them than to betray my own. If they go against each other, I would not take the side or better yet stay with the legitimate claim. That’s how it should be. I would never go against Ogedei or anyone in his place if it were done in our old tradition. The Great Khan had to be elected with all in power, presenting their claims and voting. There should be nothing held against the claimant if no treason was committed. People should be free to speak. There should be no backstabbing, and I’ll be the first to punish the offender. That’s my honor. If we want to run the empire with as fewer problems as possible, no revolts, famine, or the plaque epidemics, we have to learn the way of peace among ourselves. And that is the hardest thing. That’s what the grandfather said. So far, we were lucky and avoided significant disasters but only because of our shrewdness. The hotheads may get you the breakfast, but the cool heads will get you the dinner and the place to rest. Patience is actually more of a virtue than one may think.

If we lost a soldier — killed, injured, crippled, in one of our campaigns and his family has no other provider, we pay a pension to his family for many years ahead. If the soldier is dead, we try to marry his wife to another family, so she and the kids would have a home. We try to do it right with all our people and spare no expenses. How else could you run the empire as complicated as ours, with so many different people and customs and be successful? We have to consider so many things, everything. I do not know any other way, and we are successful.

A family that received a small one-time payment for the killed warrior is allowed to follow the horde for as long as they want and participate in the spoils. They can tend the animals, nurture the wounded, work in any other way, and be trained to become soldiers. Out of respect for the killed and injured fighters, we would kind of adopt them, allowing them and the families to be a part of our lives. They could not stay inside of our camps (that’s reserved for the active warriors), but they could set their own camp within an hour ride from us. Yet, they could visit any time they liked providing that they did not interfere with our routine. They are welcome to the food and the shops traveling with us. They could freely move around but not stay overnight. Could we take that chance? Good question. Why would we if there was a question? We have to be smarter than that. Sometimes we know those people well but not always. We did not want any extra problems to worry about. What if they were with the other side, whatever that side was. We hoped they were not, but we had to be couscous.

Many, like the Khazars, were always welcome and not limited at all. We knew who they were and what they stand for. The Kazakhs, Buryats, Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Tadjik, Turkmen, Bashkirs, Tuvans, Mordvins, Kalmyks, and the others were trusted but not all the time and not completely. They could be with you for years, intermarried, related and betray you at a moment’s notice or without one. One day they stay with you, bleed with you, die with you, and the next day, they stick a knife under your ribs. Yet, they were a part of the horde, and I respect that. We would give them the odd jobs to do like minding the animal herds, fixing, and mending things. They did an excellent job because they were paid for it and respected. A good worker is like a good soldier; both were valuable and well respected. Also, we keep these people responsible for protecting the trains with our loot and the supplies. The honor would not allow them to steal but, if they did, the punishment was severe, and the family would not be reimbursed for the lost one. They know it, they think about it and rarely break the rules. Only a foolish one would take that chance. A cut off a limb is much worse than a death sentence, and that’s the punishment. You would be slowly dying for a very long time, cast off from your clan and everyone knows what you’ve done. Your honor is in question, and that is a shame for the whole family, the entire tribe.

Thus, for tending the trains, we would dispatch a skeleton crew of a few soldiers, and the rest of it would be the Tatars or the others. It’s a good deal all around. I do not spread too many trained soldiers around, and the others have a paying job. They can earn the keep and be proud of it. Also, the trains are well manned and are rarely attacked by the wild tribes. For the people on the train, it is much safer than, let’s say, in the regular Tumen. There is some danger but not much. Thus, they serve as the soldiers with the pay almost of the soldier, but the risk is somewhat less. Sometimes we allow their families to stay with the train but not the prominent families. That could be too much. If the family has some children that could help, I am all for it. I always assign a herd of animals to the train so, the children can take care of it and then, they have plenty to eat. The supply trains were self-efficient almost all the time, but there were only a few of them. I could not put everything on one supply train. That could be too chancy even for us. Who said that the brigands could not raise a few hundred horsemen and attack the train. It was possible. The attraction was too high. If it were attractive and large enough, they would, and they even tried it once or twice already. Then, I would need five hundred men or so to escort and protect it. That would be too much. No, the smaller trains that could move faster and defend themselves adequately were the best solution. It worked out fine. My soldiers had a family to go to, good food, women and our herds of animals were taken care of. I rarely had problems with the supply trains or the loot trains. I just kept rotating people there, just in case. I did not want anyone to get too comfortable, too lazy. But, I supported it all, and they paid me back in kind. I know I am feared, and I hope I am fair. Loved… I doubt that. That was not too important to me.

Ogedei Khan and some of my other close relatives wanted to participate in the division of the spoils from Europe so, they invested whatever they could. There was money, people, supplies, weapons, and whatever else we may need. They tried to cover every aspect of the prolonged war, the multitude of people involved, the distances, customs, languages, supplies, weapons, fortifications, and most of all, the advice. They were close and available to me when I needed the help. Ogedei Khan sent me one thousand Chinese soldiers from his own army. Also, I received from him a herd of two thousand heads of cattle and five thousand lambs. A few thousand goats and the grain came a few months later. There were another two thousand Chinese soldiers and five hundred Koreans. In addition to that, Ogedei sent me one hundred doctors, one hundred blacksmiths and one hundred tailors with a wagon train of silk, leather and the rough cotton material used for the padding to wear under the leather battle dress and under the saddles for the horses. We also had wagons and wagons of raw iron for the weapons and the armor repair. Weapons and armor came separately. That was huge, the King gift. It also demonstrated the level of his trust and support.

All of that was a valued gift and not just from the cost point of view. It was political as well. Still, many people had to be employed to produce so much of it. And, the raw materials… It was not cheap. No, Ogedei did not spare the expenses, and he was genuine. That was an open demonstration of the care, and I needed that. He really wanted to help. Everyone wanted to help and be counted. I know, I know, they see a lot of profit from my expedition, but that is only if we succeed. We could fail. It is unlikely, but it could take much longer, and we may need much more resources. Supplies could become a problem. People could become a problem. Our columns would stretch for hundreds, if not thousands, of miles. I could pay the bills but in the middle of the war this stuff, anything, was not easy to obtain. Ogedei gave it to me from his personal domains, and that was very friendly of him.

I liked Ogedei always, and I think he was my best and the most powerful relative. Just a few months ago, I heard that one of my cousins was planning a coup while Ogedei was visiting his horde for the wedding ceremony of the cousin’s daughter. I did not think it was right, and I did not think it was honorable. Subutai and I were present there, and without even saying anything to Ogedei, I ordered the arrest of the entire family of the cousin. Then, it was reported to Ogedei, and he held the court. The cousin was found guilty and executed, but his family (only the women) were spared and ordered to live with the family of a new groom. That was a wedding, after all, and goodwill should prevail. I think Ogedei was overly lenient, leaving so many conspirators alive, but that was his judgment, and I accepted it. Women were not guilty. Children were not guilty. Slaves were not guilty.

Life is quite complicated in the steppes. It is like sailing in the uncharted waters; the underwater dangers were just waiting for you anywhere you turn. There you have to combine the knowledge that you acquire and the sense of survival that you inherit. The spies will bring you the information. Thus, education and you have to trust your feelings. The first feeling is usually the right one. Maybe it happens that way because it comes from the gods. Don’t override your feelings with overthinking. You may lose at that. Subutai was good with trusting the emotions, and so is I. Between two of us, we win most of the time. Well, we win all the time. In our state and in our business, if you lose even once, you lose your life. You have to win all the time just to survive. I guess, we were destined to rule and that is why we do it so well. Just don’t be soft or lazy. That’s a losing proposition, and I do not want it. I try not to make any spontaneous decisions. I listen to my brain, the logic, the feelings. The heart is good but only as of the first response, the immediate reaction. I always step back and think the situation over. Often, my decision after that is entirely different. Lives usually were spared or not. That’s how it swings to extremities, and you cannot go to more extreme than that. Lives in and lives out — that’s it, that’s the extent of it. I do not think about it, and I do. How can you really not to think about lives? What is more important?”

President Vagabundi could not put the pages of the diary down. He was reading it with such fascination that even the food was forgotten. Who needs food when one of the most important people in the history of your country talks to you over the centuries of ups and downs, mostly downs. For five hundred years, your country was nothing but a pimple on the collective ass of the world yet, he was living at the peak. He created that peak and managed it for a while. He took it to unprecedented heights. He was at the top of the world. He was the one to follow, yet, one had to know the truth to understand it and make the decisions. Some decisions were severe, often too harsh to swallow. And, there it was, in black and white. In his own words and most likely, written in his own hand. That was really the voice from the past. It was fantastic, unreal, ghost-like. The President drank some kumis. No, no food, no hard drinks, just the kumis. That was the real Mongolian food, and that is how this document should be handled — the Mongolian way. Was there any other way for President Vagabundi? In Mongolia? At the present time? When so many things were at stake? When he had to make some tough decisions, and only the ghost from the distant past could honestly counsel him? Ghost… This was something not too many presidents ever experienced. Did anyone ever experience anything like that? Ever? Arban could not recall an example that would satisfy the question. He got up, walked around the room, stopped, considered, and sat down again. Batu was not just one of the most infamous butchers in the history responsible for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of the dead. He burnt down half of Europe and rearranged the present societies. He smashed the old barriers and build new ones. He was the most powerful hurricane of death, torture, slavery, and hope. He also was a visionary, philosopher, thinker, educator, warrior, strategist, statesman and now, the writer. He was well ahead of his time, basically in everything. How was it possible in combination with that destruction? And, Subutai probably was the pillar of his strength. We do not make people like that anymore, but there was quite a few of them back then, starting with Genghis Khan. Was Batu much lesser than the greatest khan of them all? Kumis and the goodwill were not enough. Genes. You needed the right genes for anything and for making the heroes specifically. That’s where it was hidden. The genes… That was the time for the heroes. Was he the fire that burnt the green shoots of the civilization to nothing delaying the development for many years to come? Or, his fire had removed the dead brush and the undergrowth and let the green shoots to grow freely, to develop, to flourish? Did he remove the old so, the new could push forward? Yes, he was fortunate to read it, even to see it. He was lucky.

“Almost two hundred relatives had joint me at Sarai Batu (my capital camp) (Ulus — unitary sovereign state) in the last two-three months. Each of them had at least a hundred warriors accompanying him. Also, there were members of the family, servants, craftsmen, and slaves. Each of them came with a caravan and a herd of animals. They had their own supplies. I did not have to give them anything, but they were ready to share with me if I needed it, anything. I could use the help if they really meant it. Frankly, I could build a Tumen, if not two, just out of my relatives, but it would be the worst Tumen ever. Though some of them were good soldiers, they all had something against each other and would fight among themselves rather than with the enemy. My relatives were not here for the common goal of the war. They came over only for the campaign and expected some high positions and proper rewards. If I would give them that before the war was over, they would find an excuse and go away now. They were loyal only up to a point. What I usually did was appointing them as the military leaders (garrison or area commanders) and the tax collector to the regions that were not occupied yet. When we take that place, it’s yours to manage in one capacity or another. That was the motivation for them to stick around for the long run. Back home, they were the youngest in the family and inherited or would inherit nothing. That’s what you get when you have too many children and too little to give. Still, children were your power. That’s the clan that unlikely would betray you. You need your children, and they need your inheritance. Yet, their future back home often was not full of gold. Only if you were a part of the successful military campaign, you could get ahead, earn a piece of land and a steady income for the whole family. So, they stayed with me hoping for the reward, and they fought for it hard. If they were true to me, in the end, they succeeded.

Me? Subutai? We would shed them off as we went, and that was good. That title and the territory would come for life, so they had to defend it for themselves and me building the own little empires to the best of their ability. If they failed, I would take it away and appoint in their place someone else and so on. Those fiefdoms would become my frontier. By the time the enemy went through them, if the enemy were strong enough for that, the Golden Horde capital of Sarai and the Ulus would be protected. By then, I could meet the enemy anywhere and with force. That little delay would give me time to assemble the army and to move it anywhere. It did not take too much of time. Because of the financial implications, because it was their domain of some sort and the family was there, they would hold that territory for as long as they could. They would fight to the death. Usually, it was a considerable time, enough for me to send the reinforcement and maybe save them. But, if necessary, they would die fighting for it, and they often did. That’s how important it was for them. They were hard people, and it was their new home, and they were defending it from everyone. The entire structure was good, and it worked well.

Of course, they were hiding some taxes from Ogedei and me, but they were kinsfolks, and they loved us. They always shared everything if we asked. You did not even need to apply much pressure. Just ask and explain the situation. They would listen with deep concern and comply. They liked it when you took them into your confidence. They thought better of themselves then. Usually, we were not hard enough on them but, if we did, we had to kill the entire family, and that was reserved only for the traitors. It had to be proven beyond any reasonable doubt. It was not an easy decision to make, never ever. Even if you did not like much that specific relative, you needed a concrete proof of the guilt. If you didn’t have that, you did not have anything. Justice and fairness were fundamental to us, all of us. After all, we were not the barbarians as the Russian were. We brought the new ideas from the East, and that was good for the West. We were the best that ever happened to the West, and the West could move forward. Old was not working for the West any longer. Still, blood had to be shed. I hated it when it happened, but it happened often enough.

The closer people get to the power, the more they conspire, and that leads to treason. I think it happens just about everywhere, in every country and in every kingdom on earth. Death of a relative was a terrible thing, a tragedy so, we killed a few non-relatives for the sake of the same crime just to balance it up, to feel better and to scare the enemies at the same time. They should be guilty of something anyway. Anyone is guilty of something. That’s the truth and a known fact. It’s just that we were not always looking for the guilt. If there was no threat to us or our society, we left it alone, until it became a threat. Then, if it happened, we dealt with it as the situation called.

Enemies were plenty and all around, and we had to deal with them in the harshest possible way. And, not too many enemies survived the ordeal of being our enemies. We were smarter and more powerful. If one was our enemy, he was not smart already. How could he win anyway? No, only the stupid ones would conspire and believe they could win. We try to bring it to the point when no one could afford to be our enemy when no one dared to be one. Yet, I noticed that the more successful you are, the more enemies you get. They become active and aggressive. They want what you have and even your job. They are ready to spill blood and a lot if necessary. They were prepared to kill you and your family and also, to lose some of their own. They may gain some but stand to miss so much if it did not work. For a few extra pieces of gold… What is heavier a few more gold pieces or the lives of your family? Even if you were lucky and escaped? What would you choose? Stop and think before you chose.

Still, I do not know if I trusted the relatives more than the ordinary people. The ordinary people knew precisely where they were, and a small reward could make a lot of difference. I know I trusted the Khazars more. Interesting, but the Jews had never betrayed Genghis, Ogedei or me. Subutai trusted them more than their own children. They proved to be the most trusted people. Maybe they were not the best fighters in the world, but I rather have them on the battlefield than the Tatars. The Tatars could waver under pressure, but the Jews would not. They will stand the ground and hold the position no matter what. And, when it comes to managing treasures, there was no other choice but the Jews. They were God-given to us. I believed that.”

“The time had come, and we were ready for the West. I did not rush anything. You do not rush things like that. Supplies and the Tumen readiness were the most critical items on my list. Only when the reports met the requirements, I gave the order to move. It was perfect. I did not think we could improve much in our readiness, but I left orders and a few trusted Jews and the Chinese to implement it. It would be done, and even better than required. These were good people.

We attacked Western Europe in three mighty columns but with the concentration on Poland, Hungary, and Germany. The Chinese advisors called it Central Europe and made the maps for us. They knew it better, but what was laying beyond? I wanted to go as far as we could, to the last sea. The Chinese were saying that there was a sea and then, there was nothing beyond. Actually, they said that there was an island of many people and then, there was nothing. They said that the Vikings went as far as that island and tried to go beyond, but no one came back to tell what they saw. They think it was because there was nothing beyond that island and you just fall off the earth. Then, you could not come back and tell the story. If you tried to go beyond that last sea, you would fall off the planet. That sounded right. The Earth was flat, and the edge was at the end of the Last Sea. That’s where you fall off. I would love to go there to see that. What happens when you fall off the earth? Where do you go then? Do you meet the gods? Is there another adventure beyond that one? What kind of adventure? What an adventure would that be? How far was it? How big was the last sea? Was it endless? What does it mean? Did anyone ever go that far and then, came back to tell the tale? My advisors did not know but tried to find out. Vikings, maybe. They went everywhere and often came back. Vikings were saying that there was more than just one big island in the last sea and they went there. We do not know that for sure. There was no real proof. There was nothing we could accept as definite proof. I have not seen anything severe enough to believe the story. Just the tall tales… We are not the seagoing people so, this is kind of awkward for us to understand. The endless sea… No boundaries. I cannot envision that.

I have to see it. The traders (the Italians living with us for a while) mentioned it as well, but they said so many things and presented no proof. We may see it when we go to their country. They called in Italy. Interesting. Judging by the stories, it should be a strange place. Where was it precisely, and how do we get there? Oh, we should, we would find it. We have found so much already. I want to see what they have, the Italians. The stories sounded so good. Maybe we could befriend them and not fight. We did not need to fight everyone we met. The Italian and French traders were knowledgeable men. We do not want to kill smart and crafty people. I want to see everything there. I want to see the cities. Buildings made of stone. Cities made of stone. Walls made of stone. Statues made of stone. Art… Treasures… The claims were huge. What’s the real truth? Could they support that? So far, no luck. We had nothing to touch, to see. Well, we saw many things but not exactly what I wanted to see. Neither Russia nor Poland was that exciting. People were not impressive, dull. They were not much more advanced than us.

In many cases, they were not advanced at all. But, maybe in Europe, we would find someone who could tell us more, show us more, take us to some other places. I hope so. Show me these beautiful cities built out of stone. There were many people in Europe, and some had traveled. So, it is possible that they know the truth. I want to know what they know. But first, we need to find people we could trust.

We needed Poland for the food for people and horses. We needed a steady stream of supplies, and there it was. I was told that there we could get plenty of the supplies, good craftsmen, animals and anything else we may need. We could stay there for the winter if needed. Also, Poles made great slaves and especially, the women. They were almost as slaves already, but we would treat them properly. We were better people. In our society, all people, but the slaves were free. In Poland, all people, but the Nobility, were slaves. That was like in Russia and worked to our advantage. We were a better alternative, and Poles recognized it right away. We were not the enemy of the serfs. We were the saviors. Leave your masters and join us. You’ll do much better as our slaves.

In many cases, no, in all cases, we treated the slaves better than the Polish “Szlachta” (Polish nobility) recognizing people for their talents and giving them credits for that. Our slaves, even the lowest ones, never starved and always had a roof over the head. We constantly shared everything equally with the entire household, including the slaves. Well, slaves did not need money or other valuable, but we gave them a little anyway. They did not have the freedom of movement so, they could not spend any of that but, nevertheless, we continually gave them some money for the personal needs and a free day to rest. They could save all the money and buy themselves out. That happened and quite often. There were many cases where a freed slave owned some slaves. A blacksmith in the Golden Horde who always shoed my horses and tended my personal weapons was a freed Korean slave. He was the best blacksmith there is. Now, he has five slaves working in his shop as the assistants. He makes an excellent living and much respected in Sarai. His slaves are becoming well-known as well. They work hard and know the business of the blacksmith already. There are many examples like that, and I see those people quite often.

I like when things like that happen. People should have that chance in life. People should be happy. They should have the opportunity to be free and grow wealthy if they have talent. Talents should be rewarded. The Poles and the Russians were treating their own low classes as dirt so, the low classes did not care much when we killed their nobility and replaced one slavery with another but somewhat better. With us, they were more of the servants than the slaves, and there was a hope to be free. Well, not all, but many. Some remained the slaves for the rest of our life if we did not see why it should change. It could change if you worth it. Show the loyalty, the devotion, the skills. We see everything, and we will notice if there anything to notice. Demonstrate that you worth to be noticed and we would be happy to acknowledge it, to recognize you. I would like to see my empire in a hundred years after all these people mix up and adapt. There could be a common language and customs. Many good looking, bright people would join us in building the perfect society with the Mongols leading the way to perfection. Once the Khazars told me over the feast of that ideal society described in their books. They had some interesting books. The Chinese also had books, but we did not. King David, Solomon, and as such. I asked to translate those books for me. I wanted to read it for myself. I was told that it should be ready by the time we come back from Western Europe. Probably by winter. I can hardly wait. They needed time and a few good people to do it right. I do not speak much of the Khazar language (just a few words), so they need time to translate it accurately. I want to understand everything. Soon, soon… Now, back to war.”

“We needed Poland for many things. It was located just right to build a new Horde Ulus, maybe a new Sarai. If we to control Western Europe, we needed to be much closer to it that the Golden Horde on Volga River. It was too far for any serious undertaking. It was too far for anything. The steppes, Volga River, the River Don, Poland, and the last sea. That we could control in many ways, but I would put a few smaller Uluses in between anyway. We need to move the supplies, troops, and the mail in the most efficient way. The smaller camps, caravan Sarais, along the way, is the way to go. That will give us the safety, fresh horses, supplies, repairs, medical care, and the needed rest. I traveled along the Silk Road, and that is how they did it there. It works so well over there. There is no need to fix what works already. Is there? In short, we needed Poland for the base of operations, the supplies, and the slaves. There were many people here.

I needed to position my troops and all supporting services in key locations. It worked out just fine and would cover so many necessary components. There was some resistance, but I had one hundred and twenty thousand regular troops and maybe as many Tatars, not counting the families and the old people following the horde. They always were there providing us with the elements of home when we needed it so badly. In the times of war, one gets lonely, moody, and needs some home feeling. That’s what the accompanying families did for us. And, they also tended for wounded. Yet, we had mobile and stationary hospitals outfitted with Chinese doctors. Some of them constantly moved with us, and some were in permanent Sarais along the way.

Every Tumen had a mobile hospital but the lightly wounded and the injured went to the train to be tended by the families and the older people. It was better for everyone. The badly wounded were in the permanent hospital with a doctor in attendance. Whatever was available, was available for everyone. Everyone was equal in that regard, especially wounded. That’s how we were. That’s what we believed in. We considered everyone a relative, kin, and we never left anyone behind if there was a chance of survival. Anyone deserved that chance. We did not leave the wounded, even if he was not a Mongol, on the field, behind. That would not be right. If there was no chance for survival from a wound or an injury, we made certain that our brother would not be caught by the enemy. Then, we would take him to a Chinese doctor. Torture was not the right way for a Mongol to die, so, the capture was not an option. We, Mongols, would send the brother to the gods through the mercy-killing ritual. Our brother should die an easy death if he had to die. That was the right, everyone’s right. Just go to sleep, and we would hold you all the way to the gods. Please, greet the ancestors for us. Please, tell them that we remember them with enormous respect. We’ll take care of your family, children, rest assured. We had never failed, and the brother always went to the gods. We know that for sure. Our holy men told us that, and they speak to spirits.”

“My soldiers (the advanced guards) had successfully skirted Romania and the Carpathian Mountains popping up around the villages and small towns pillaging them at will. The Romanians rarely resisted to our superior force, so we did not destroy their settlements, not too many of them anyway. We just took what we needed/wanted and went on our way. It was mostly food and horses. We went easy on slavery in that region as well. We had more than enough slaves already. What do we need more for? More could be problematic because we had to take care of them. I had to transfer thousands of slaves back to the Golden Horde and beyond, and that meant guards, supplies, wagons, and the horses. Slaves had to be kept alive and healthy to be worthy of something. Who needs the dead slaves? So, we took only what we needed and never more. That’s the right way. Sometimes local heroes would attack my columns, kill the soldiers, and liberate the slaves. There could be the loved ones in the column; wives, sisters, children, and the lovers. Often, they would take my soldiers as slaves. That’s life for you. One day you are on top, and the other day, you are down. One day you own a few slaves, and now, you are a slave yourself. We never let it slide. We hunted those people down and liberated ours, whoever was still alive. If you have civilians in the column, you cannot go fast, and you leave the trail. We would catch you sooner or later. All that was a colossal waste and on a large scale. It made everything much more difficult, more complicated than it had to be. Back then, I understood that slaves should be taken on the way back. It was much more productive. When you were still going forward, enslave only the ones you really need to sustain your advancing and treat them well. You do not want them to turn against you, not on the move. Get what you need now and mostly, the ones that would like to stay with you if you treated them right. That’s the key. Call them servants and even pay something. Do not upset them too much but befriend them instead.

In many cases, serfs from Eastern Europe were better off with us if they were not the full slaves. They were like a step or two above the station before. The food was better and much more, and we never threatened their lives if they did not break any laws, and they rarely did. The owner of the serf was not allowed to make life and death decision. The tribe leader made that decision, and he usually was more responsible and followed our instructions and the laws. We had quite strict rules about the slaves and the servants, families, inheritance, and your station in life. If the issue was too complicated and people needed to appeal the decision of the tribe leader, they could go even to me. It was forbidden to prosecute the person no matter what he or she was, even a slave unless that person had a chance to defend him/herself. Yet, the owner had some rights, and the slave had to follow the orders. Often, the slave would not understand the law, and we had to explain it. It was not easy, but it was needed. The slave was rarely the winner of the argument, but there were ways to improve the dangerous situation. If the owner of the slave did not do that, we would advise selling the slave to another person but not to kill. The killing did not help anyone in any situation. So, we tried to cool the state of affairs down if it was only possible and not too late. That usually helped, and the condition often improved. Slaves were people too, not as us but, nevertheless, people. Lives were saved, and some of those saved people became a valuable part of us. Still, many of the slaves were punished and even killed. No matter what, but the owner had more rights than the slave, and we liked it that way. That is why one was the owner and the other one — the slave. That’s how it was.

I thought that we should never conquer anything and destroy what we captured. Your new possessions were precious. You needed that land, people, resources, and the settlements to multiply, prosper, and pay your dues in supplies, coin, and the slaves. Don’t take all from them. That is not smart. Leave them enough to live somewhat comfortably so, they would not fight you. People fight back when they have no other option left. Only the miserable people, just the unhappy ones, would be desperate enough to challenge the conqueror superior in strength as we were. I do not think anyone could match us at the time and in this region. Yes, the Crusaders and the Muslims of the Middle East could present a strong resistance to us, but they were far away. We were brutal and vicious, so why would you take too many chances with us. We always closed our eyes on the conquered underpaying to us. So, they lied, but we knew that holding it in reserve. They thought that they outsmarted us and hoped for the day of freedom. So, they waited for freedom later rather than to die fighting now. That suited us quite well. In the end, we were the smart ones, and we always prevailed. Yet, they did not have to perish, not when we still needed them. In my opinion, it was a fair exchange. Let them live if it benefits you and let them die if there is no profit in letting them live.

As I said before, in many cases, we were better than their own leaders at the time. The leaders did not like us because we were taking their livelihood away and threatened to take more. They fought us, sometimes heroically and they betrayed their own people wholesale. They knew the odds. I did not like those people at all. Instead, I rather had an open enemy that I respected than a corrupt traitor who I loathed. If they betrayed their own people, they would betray you faster than anything else. That was their nature, and there was no real loyalty. They were only loyal to you for as long as you fed or threatened them. The stick and the carrot — what was more powerful than that? The grandfather said that he relied on both equally, but everyone feared him. Rewards — yes, there were some, but punishments were many. Was he counting on the stick more than the carrot?

I genuinely do both, but I balance that. It worked so far. Yet, I have been challenged time and time again. So, I kept my eyes open for the traitors, and I forgave a few enemies. The forgiven enemy knew the score way too well and learned the lesson, and the traitor usually hanged himself if you gave him enough of rope. They never knew when it was enough. Do I know when it is enough? I am not sure, but I hope so. It was always interesting to watch. We often placed the bets on how long one would stay alive if you let him run somewhat free betraying you. It never was for long, and then, he would be dead or enslaved (much worth than dead), and we took everything and more. That was not the question of “IF” but of “WHEN” and it never took too long, a few months, a year. The end was always the same.

Greed was a powerful sensation that could control all your emotions ignoring the clear warnings and the knowledge of the events. For a few more silver or gold coins, an extra caw or a slave girl, one would risk everything even if you did not have to risk anything and could have the coins but fewer, anyway. Would I do that? I have not so far. Would Subutai do that? He had not done that up to now and probably would not do it ever. Most people around me had not done that either. Were they different people? Is that why they were still around me and not in the grave or torn apart by the wild animals somewhere in the open field, the steppes? Most of them were with me ever since childhood. Good people as far as I know. Honorable people. And, every time I turn my back on them, I have to trust them completely.

Going to Poland, we crossed the land called Ukraine (the outskirts in Russian). To our knowledge, it was the Polish territory, but people there named the Cossacks were of the Slavic origin (at least they spoke that language or some variation of it). We were told the stories of them being slaves and the serfs and running away from the Russian and Polish nobility that treated them as the lowest of the lowest. Their lives were pure misery, and often, death was the only way out. Thus, they took a chance and ran as far as they could — to the outskirts, to Ukraine. There, they built the semi-military settlements that meant to protect them from the vengeful nobility. Yet, there was the agriculture, crafts, trade, and the soldiery for hire. Soldiers could find jobs just about everywhere. It was a very popular profession, and the demand for soldiers was quite high. The pay was good but only if you live long enough to get it. Well, the turnaround was high as well. Many went into soldiery looking for the riches, and only a few had found some. That’s a sad side of it. Some were winning, and some were losing. Most had a shallow grave in the place called “nowhere” and even more had no burial at all. That was the reality of it.

We were told that the runaway serfs and the slaves were mostly men so, they intermixed with the Poles and the people of the steppes becoming a dominant force in the region called the Cossacks. What a mix of people that were, and often, they looked like no one else. I do not know where the name Cossacks came from, but it was a good name. It somehow suited them. They knew how to fight and were honorable. Interesting, is not it? Honorable slaves. Were they honorable before or after they escaped? One could become honorable, knowing well what dishonor was. We recruited many of them and had fought even more. I do not think we ever truly conquered them. We tried not to fight each other but given a chance, we would. Most of them paid the tribute, and we let them be. That was honorable. Many would not pay and would fight us. I could not spare too many soldiers to control this wild bunch so, I left it for the future. I think we can deal with it later after Europe was conquered. We will have plenty of time then. For now, it was not really a problem. It was more of a delicate peace.

We also met many local Jews there. No, no, they were not the Khazars that we knew very well. They were quite different. They had different customs, and they looked differently. They called themselves the Ashkenazy Jews. They were different from the Khazars with a different language, customs, clothes, and everything else.

Nonetheless, they were Jews. They told us that they used to live in Germany and Austria for hundreds of years, but when the Crusades started, they were attacked and then, expelled. Poland gave them a place to live in exchange for their skills in finances, management, trade, and crafts. It was not a very large community but a few here and there, yet they were Jews. The Khazars in my Horde recognized them right away and asked for their help and protection. I did not mind but had to study the issue first.

Many of the local Jews were gainfully employed managing the estates of the nobility. They were somewhat appreciated for that and lived well. They even owned houses, small but comfortable. No, they lived differently from us, not in the Yurts or the mud structures, but the homes were warm and solidly built. It was mostly wood, mud, and sometimes stone. The entire area was full of trees so, wood was a natural choice for any construction, and they used it well. Everything was like in Russia only somewhat better, a better quality of almost everything and the people had more freedom. Some of the Jews owned prospering businesses, and some were well off. Those businesses were, to some extent, limited to shops, taverns, inns, small blacksmith, or gold/silversmith shops. Some worked the land. They were rather happy if not for the Cossacks that were harassing them, robbing, pillaging and often, murdering. It was not really our business, but considering the loyalty of the Khazars, I promised to protect the Jews in the territories we controlled. It should not be so difficult. The local Jews were living together in small villages so, a few soldiers stationed there could do the job. I gave that job to the Khazars, and they liked it. I was trying to be fair, and Subutai thought I was. I do not believe these people were much different from the Khazars, but they were. They were like a different tribe of the same people, but they could not fight. The Khazars were great fighters, some of the best, but those Jews were good merchants and craftsmen and the best managers. They were even better managers than the Khazars, but they could not fight. They really worked hard maintaining what you had and multiplying it. I had never seen anything like that before. They were good people, and I welcomed them into the Horde. We even employed some. I honored their leaders by inviting them to a feast in my tent. They all came and brought the gifts but did not eat. None of them.

First, I was offended, but the Khazars explained it to me right there. They told me that those people kept a strict diet called “Kosher” and could not eat our food because it was not prepared the right way for them. I could understand that. Some things even made sense to us. Muslim ate “Hallal,” which was like “Kosher.” We disagreed but, nonetheless, it made sense. So, I gave the order to the cook to study the ways of the Jewish food, and the next time they come over, prepare it right. The Jews said that the next time they would bring their own food and enough for everyone. We laughed. Enough for everyone… That was very friendly of them. They were good people. Maybe there was the base for cooperation. We needed more friends in the west. Two weeks later, the Jews invited Me and some of my closest people to a feast in a place called a tavern. We went there, and the Jews offered us a choice of kosher food and Polish food. We tried both, and both were great. Still, I liked our food better. And, there was no kumis. They offered us beer, wine, and vodka.

I tried vine before, and I guess it was fine. Beer — I am not sure. It was kind of on a low scale. Some of our people, including the Khazars drink vine. They prefer vine over kumis. They even make wine. Some say it’s the best vine in the region. So, they enjoy it, and I can’t understand why. Vodka is a hard drink, and it made us drunk and noisy. Drunk people are ugly. I do not like that. People were ready to fight each other over nothing. That was not good. So, I banned it in our camps. Kumis did not make you do that. Kumis was a soft, gentle drink. You just became mellow and friendlier and wanted more of kumis. Also, the kumis was very nutritious and very good for your health. I am not going to allow vodka or anything like that in my camps, but the vine is fine. If people want to drink that, they can, but I would drink the kumis. I like it better. I think it was better for all of us and the taste was great. We know how to make it right, and we do. Kumis was in our blood even since before we were born. I wonder what we would see in Hungary and Western Europe. That should be interesting.”

“We needed Hungary to establish a base for new adventures up north to Scandinavia; down south to Italy and straight forward to France and to the last sea. We preferred to rest in the spring, store the necessary supplies, and fatten the horses on the lush valleys of grass, moving forward in the winter. Actually, we liked to start the campaigns at the end of summer or beginning of fall. We came from the steppes where the climate was much harsher than here so, we felt great. Yet, it was a disadvantage for the locals. The mountain passes, difficult even for the locals, we scaled up in no time. We even enjoyed it joking about the home and the anatomy of our wives. We felt like home and even better. Food was plenty and in a large variety. Slaves were plenty and often willing to serve us. Women also were plenty, and pillaging was excellent and secure. What else the healthy Mongol could desire? What else is there to desire? Art, books, architecture… We see what we see, and we use what is there. Then, back to where we came from. Their towns and cities were beautiful and even entertaining, but our life is better for the soul. Yet, the frozen rivers were like perfect highways throughout the imperfect world. We could cover up to fifty miles a day using the frozen rivers of Europe. They were everywhere, and they led to every place we wanted to go. The Europeans did not fight in the winter, but we did, and they had the best cities by the rivers.

In, the Summer, they protected those rivers from the boat assault, but in the Winter, there was nothing of significance but us. Attila the Khan used Hungary as the base, and we found it is still perfect nine hundred years later. Grazing for the horses and the other animals were much better than in many other places. It was even better, in many cases, that the steppes. Everything was there and in ample supply. Hungary was kind to us already, and soon, it would be even better than that. What was there not to like? Well, it was not the steppes, but we left the plains years ago, and it was not important any longer. We could live anywhere and beyond and, we liked it all. People were somewhat different, customs were different and food — you could make anything you wanted. I loved the forest. Forest, shade and the little fast streams full of cold fresh water. There even was fish. Mushrooms and berries — I never tried it before, but I liked it. That was different and not bad, especially the berries. Mushrooms — one had to know that stuff, and we were not the experts. It could be poisonous. One could get very sick or even die from eating a poisonous mushroom. Thus, we were conscious. Yes, I wanted to stay there for a while, rest my troops, wait for reinforcements and the supplies coming from the Golden Horde and maybe build another Golden Horde right here on the River Danube. Good place. Good country.

I could feel the spirit of Attila rising and greeting me. Were we related in some way? Possibly. History repeats itself. Based on the Hungarian plains’ experience, I could conquer the rest of Europe relatively fast. They were not ready to face us, not yet, not ever. We were a much stronger tribe. Should I annihilate them or just conquer? I was not sure yet, but there was no hatred, no animosity toward them. It was not Russia or even Central Asia. I liked what I saw, so I let them live. I think it would be right. It could be better in the end. We can live together and learn from each other. Yes, that’s the right way of doing that with the right people. Anyone deserved to live, and we were destined to rule the living. My ancestors were ready to lead me there, to the throne of Europe. Where should it be? The ancestors would show me the right path when the time came. They always do, and that is why we are where we are. Should it be by the sea, forest, or the mountains? It could be a lush valley. Should it be one of their castles or one of our Yurts?”

“The Hungarian King, Bela IV, was not the wise one. I liked the country and was willing to talk. He was not. The war could be avoided almost everywhere, but they were too proud for that. Accept us as the overlords, pay the tribute, and we would not bother you much. I could even stay somewhere in Central Europe and enjoy everything it could offer. Death was an option, and we stated so through our emissaries. Also, they knew already what happened in Russia, Poland, the Czech land with those who were stubborn. We’ve been around for a few years already, and it was not a secret what happened to our enemies. Surrender and live and maybe prosper. Resist and die, and even the living will suffer. Death, slavery and the burnt down settlements… No more life as before. What was there not to understand? What was there to question? I thought we were quite clear with statements like that. Did they doubt me? When did I mislead any of them and not fulfilled the promises? No, if I promised life, there was life and prosperity. But, if I promised death, it could not come soon enough. It often was riding, no, galloping, ahead of my Tumens. It never failed to arrive and to the proper place. When dd I mislead you, Bela? Yet, Bela thought he knew it better and called for help and help arrived. They came as for a crusade all dressed up and with the servants. They were many, armed to the teeth but with limited supplies. That was so important, but they left it for Bela to feed and to house them, and that was expensive. They hoped for the fast war. With us? Is that how they fought the Crusades? No wonder they were losing one Crusade after another, and so many people died for nothing, for a fairytale. Bela, the Hungarian King, could do much better just paying us off but he welcomed them instead.

An army of knights from all over Europe had gathered on the river at the Buda castle. There were more of them than us, and they wanted to fight us in the open field. They were so proud of themselves, but they have not seen all of us yet. Colors, weapons, horses, men — it was the “cream de la cream” of the European knighthood with princes and even kings by the dozens. Did they want to scare us somehow? That was a sight to see, but they have not seen us yet, and that was the plan. Yes, they saw the advanced guard and the scouts, but the main force was hidden in the trees creating the vision that we were not there yet. They thought that we were still coming and wanted to attack the advanced guard before the central column was there. That was a shrewd plan so, they were so cheerful, so full of energy and we liked it. They were ready now. That’s what they thought. What little did they know? How much they were going to learn.

We came over a few days ago and were ready as well. The scouts they sent out had never come back, and even that did not make them worry. I guess they deserved what was going to happen. To fight us in the open field? That was not very smart. Sturdy walls and the castles could offer them an advantage but in the open…they had no chance, and they did not know it. We did quite well with the walled cities, but the open field was our specialty. We were light and deadly, and they were heavy and clumsy. They thought to fight us was like fighting each other. No, not true. You should study the enemy before you engage them. You all fight each other in the same way, same tactics, but we were different. We know so much you don’t. We conquered all of Asia and learned all the lessons. They went to Jerusalem and lost more than you won. They did not learn any lessons but were bragging about. I could see that they were so sure of themselves that did not understand the danger they were in. They did not see anything. We laid a few traps, and they did not see any of that either. Yes, they were so arrogant, and that was so good for us. So, good… Whatever they missed became our gain instantaneously. That was a good war by all counts. We could win it, and we could win it big. If we won the battle, Europe would have no organized resistance left. All potent opposition had gathered there already. With so many knights fighting the crusades and the rest of them dying on this field in Hungary, Europe was wide open for an invasion, just go there and take it. I could just send the grandmothers and the children, and they would take Europe with ease. Maybe I should. We could use a break. But, well, Bela believed that we would find our deaths there and not the victory. No, he was not too bright. We proved them, all of them, wrong.

We had Subutai and the best warriors, and they had the spoiled Hungarian King and the second-grade over confident leftovers of the European knighthood. We had our units raiding almost all Central Europe already. They were popping up here and there fighting small battles. Everyone believed that the more significant force was coming right away to attack the town and would not send people to Bella and the leading European power. Everyone was for himself. They were fragmented and poorly organized while we spread our forces strategically, controlling every road and the major settlements. We even controlled their communication lines. Our reinforcements and the supplies were coming almost daily, and they knew where to go in advance. We had plans for everything, and everything was working so well. I could pull in more people if needed, they were around. The whole Tumen was marching over and will be here tomorrow morning. They would do the cleaning up after the fight if the fight happened. Still, I could delay the fight for a day or so and gain another Tumen. No need, though. Yes, it looked like it will happen today, tomorrow or any day now. We called it the judgment day, but we were going to be the judges.”

“Subutai dispatched one of the Tumens to go through the mountain passes outflanking the right flank of the Hungarian army, and another Tumen had to outflank them on the left, going through the marshes. That was a good plan that would save many lives of our soldiers. We would pull the enemy apart. Our people moved fast, not wasting time on anything. They lived in the saddles. Small fights were not necessary, and leaving this light resistance behind was not dangerous. It could not amount to anything and, if it was, we’ll crash it but a little later. I can’t think of that now, we have to win the big battle in a big way. That was the most important thing today. So, we moved, moved, moved. My troops were in the position even before the Hungarians took to the field.

We knew of it through the mirror signals set up well in advance of our movements. We had our informants in the hills using the old Chinese mirror reflecting technique to relay messages. It always worked even when it was dark and raining. If there was no light to reflect, we built the fires. But, you must be vigilant and continuously monitor it. Also, you have to be well trained in understanding and relaying the signals. It was not too complicated, but one had to know it well. A little mistake could cost lives and even wars. Our people did it well. On the foreign soil, we employed ten people on every relaying station: four Chinese or Korean operators were to manage the mirror and the messages and five soldiers to protect and help them if needed. There also was one commander capable of doing everything. Even the soldiers were trained in operations of those devices, but they were not the masters yet. Soon, they may become one and move on to a better job, pay. We need more and more people trained in the mirror, smoke, and flag communications. We need it not only for the war but for the occupied territories as well. That communication technique was much faster than the horse and took fewer resources.

Recently, we have established a new command called the “Communication Tumen” and appointed a Khazar General to manage it. I told him not to spare resources but to build a net throughout our world and beyond. We had to get and to send out the messages throughout our world and fast. It worked already, but it would be better and better. I have some very good people in that command. The Europeans were still relying on the messengers on horseback. We have caught almost all of them disrupting the communication between the enemy units and getting the information on the enemy movements and the plans as fast as they become available. We had the information and could plant disinformation using a few techniques we had polished to perfection. All that was already more than fifty percent of victory. We knew all about them, and they knew nothing of us or whatever we wanted them to know that was not necessarily the truth. It was somewhat complicated, but the modern war demanded that. You could not win the modern war, just fighting it out in the open field. You needed well-trained and bright people, better and more sophisticated weapons, machinery, spies, counterspies, organization, specialized training, and the communication techniques the other side did not have. In short, we knew all that was going on in the enemy’s camp, and we could run the show without interruption. They knew nothing and were more confused by the minute. We often helped the confusion by planting the misinformation. It sounds like we were ahead and moving fast. That was as an important part of the war as the war itself. War was not only on the battlefield and at the walls of a castle, but everywhere, all around us.”

“As always, we started with the Tatars. They created the turmoil that projected the wrong impression on the enemy. The enemy began to believe that we all were like that, wild and with no real organization. Hungarians thought we would run in all different directions looking for a one-on-one fight and lose it because a European knight was better armed and even heavier protected. In a one-on-one battle, even the best of us could easily lose to a knight. A knight was more prominent, more massive, better protected, and well trained. They had big and heavy horses that could tramp our horses but not outrun them. They used long pikes to keep the distance, and we needed to get closer if the arrow did not hit the mark. Yet, the Tatars were the lightest possible cavalry. They attacked swiftly, producing a lot of chaos and only slight damage. It was as with every attack they chipped away just a little, not that important but, after a few attacks, that was becoming noticeable. They looked so little protected and acted so arrogantly that every enemy we ever met took them for easy prey.

The enemy taking it for a signal would immediately react by attacking the Tatars. It never failed. They never learned. Maybe it never failed because no enemy had ever survived to fight the Tatars again and told the tale. There were no lessons to learn because no one survived to learn it. The Tatars, in turn, would change the direction and run away leading the enemy into a trap set by the heavier cavalry of the regular troops. They could be in the trees or beyond the hill and not seen. We made sure that they got in the position while it was dark, maybe even a day before, so the enemy would not see them and uncover the trap. Also, they did not use fires for food and to warm themselves. They were that well trained and so patient. That was an ancient technique that never failed before and was still serving us now. We mastered it well. The cocky enemy meeting us for the first time always took us for the low barbarians and never seriously. Well, that helped us so well, better than them. They always paid for that the hefty fine but never understood the message. We permanently took them for what they really were — the poorly educated and very greedy people. Even the educated and the trained ones were not educated and trained enough by our standards. We used it all to our advantage of winning the battles and the wars time and time again.

Our entire army, every unit, was cavalry. We were always on the go, on the move. Infantry, in general, was useless but we used it when needed, like storming the walls of the fortified places. Infantry was too slow and could not carry enough of weapons and supplies to support itself for any prolonged time. The cavalry was too expensive but could double as infantry when needed. Thus, we preferred the cavalry but used it as the situation required. When I needed the infantry, I would take the cavalry and temporarily dismount them. The soldiers were trained to fight that way as well. That was how we scaled the walls and garrisoned the towns. That was as important as anything in the war. Still, we were the horse people, and that was our way of life. That was our life.

I had thousands and thousands of horses following us as a replacement for my people that lost a horse. Even the lowest Tatar, during the war, had a horse and some weapons on me. That was our expense. We gave him a horse or more if he could not buy one by himself. And, where do you buy a horse during the war and in the occupied territory that was stripped of horses and many other things already? Exactly… Everything was in short supply and too expensive. Those conquered people had to feed themselves, their rulers, nobility, armies, and us. We could not survive without horses, so we had horses.

“As usual, the Tatars started the attack against the center of the Hungarian position, and that seemed to be poorly organized and totally lacking discipline. I was on the hill with Subutai observing the battle, and we were laughing. The Tatars were perfect. We used about twenty thousand Tatars for the initial engagement, but the enemy was about three, maybe four times, more. The Tatars got close enough to the Hungarian lines to use the arrows but far enough not be tangled by the heavy cavalry of the European knights. Their pikes could run you through as easy as a knife would go through the warm butter. The Tatars were shooting thousands of arrows riding their small and fast horses around the Hungarians ranks trying to present as a difficult target as was only possible. They knew how to do it. They’ve done that before and quite well. About a few hundred Hungarians were killed and wounded well before they answered with a volley of arrows and the crossbow bolts on their own. A very few Tatars were dead. They were a fast-moving target, and the Europeans were missing more than hitting. The Europeans were clearly annoyed and getting impatient. Good. That’s what we were waiting for. Lose your temper. Go after the Tatars. Now. Faster. That lasted for at least ten minutes, and the Tatars losing fewer than a hundred men and a few horses, creating an illusion of panic, started running away but in the same general direction. Again, it was so well orchestrated, so natural. I could not stop laughing. My hidden reserves were watching everything closely, waiting for the signal. The signal would come from Subutai, and he was getting ready. Just a minute more. Wait. Now.

The Hungarian cavalry began the pursuit of the running Tatars breaking the own ranks. At the same time, the entire center of the enemy line moved up against our center shortening the distance between the dominant forces and the Hungarian cavalry pursuing the Tatars thus, starting the general attack. It happened so fast and with such confidence on the part of the Hungarian King that the flanks and the reserves were not informed of the movement. And, probably no orders were given. The enemy front was broken in so many places and so wide open that we could march regiments through without being challenged. Their position became so bad that it was almost impossible to fix it and hold the lines. Did they see it? The Europeans were a threat to us only if they were all together — a solid wall. That was a wall of steel that would be too hard even for us. It would be like storming a well-fortified castle with tall and thick walls. We would take it eventually, but it would be costly. Sometimes losses were higher than the rewards. Does it worth it? In those cases, when we could not break through the wall fast enough, I ordered the siege. I preferred to starve the enemy to submission and save the lives of my people. My people were more important to me than their people. That was war, and we needed to win. We were too far from home and could not afford to lose. If we lose badly enough, we all could die.

Now, in Hungary, we faced no wall but so many smaller groups some distance from each other and us running circles around them and shooting the arrows with unwavering precision. Many of my people, if not all, were trained almost from childhood to shoot arrows while riding a horse. It was not easy, but when you trained enough, you could do it quite well. Some were so good that we had the contests and competitions for them. We offered great prizes to the winners. It was a popular contest, and we had it quite often and in every Horde. Our archers were the best in the world, and that was a fact. The European knights were dying in mass from our arrows, and we were tightening the circles without engaging them in one-on-one combat. That was my strict order. I did not want to lose too many people to a useless duel with a European knight. I could predict the results. Soon, many Europeans started to surrender. Some had broken through and ran away. We let them do that so, they would spread the word. Those stories of annihilation usually were exaggerated somewhat to make the story-teller look better, but it scared the listeners so much. Still, it was a bloody day.

Actually, there were a few bloody days. The Tatars and Kalmyks were hunting the runaway army for days and in all directions. It took some doing. We were looking for anyone dressed as a soldier and carrying weapons. They could change the clothes but would not drop the weapons. It was too expensive, and that was your status as well. If they gave up the arms without a fight, we let them go but, if they resisted, we killed them. Slaves… We took some slaves but not the soldiers. Soldiers could be a problem, and we did not need that. Soldiers were not good slaves and too proud. Now, we were building the new Horde in Central Europe. A few months rest, and we will move forward, to the last sea; to the end of Europe and the world. That should not be too far now. That was like in a dream.”

Many more pages were describing the life of the thirteen century Mongols, Batu Khan, the Horde and the search for the last sea. Some things were absolutely new, but most were well known. That part of the history was better documented due to many people involved and the monumental tragedy the Mongol Horde brought to the world. And, the archeology supported it well. It was fascinating, and the President could not stop reading it. He learned so much and would learn even more. He cherished every word of the document but could not understand why they wanted to make it secret. There was nothing really unknown there so far. He failed to see anything of that importance.

“Minister, this is the President. I’ve been reading the document you gave me.” The President was talking on the phone with the Minister of Science. “This is fascinating, but are you sure I have everything? It is an impressive pile of documents. But, is anything missing there? I fail to understand why we are so secretive about that. There was nothing there we did not know, and the rest of the world knows it as well. All that was well documented already. Well, of course, it comes from Batu himself. That’s exciting, of course. What else do I need to know? What else is there, I have not seen it yet?”

“Mr. President, did you read it to the end, to the very end? You should have three folders: the photocopies of the originals; the translation to the modern Mongolian language and a special folder, the red one. Do you have it? Have you read it? Read the red folder. That’s where it is. Read it, please and let me know what you think. None of us knows what to make out of it.”

There it was, in the corner of the antique desk right under the seventeen-century dagger that was given to him as a birthday present by the relatives in Tashkent. He loved this dagger and always kept it on the desk. It was made of silver and encrusted with a few precious stones. It was gorgeous. The design and the craftsmanship suggested Arabic origin. The blade was of the Damascus steel, but the stones were uncut and possibly from India. Well, it was the product of the Silk Road, and that was clear. It was so beautiful and so evil at the same time. No one knew who it belonged to these many years ago, but Arban thought that he saw some traces of blood on this still razor-sharp curved blade. Was it a death giver or a salvation provider? Was it a defender or an assailant? How could we know? It could be both. It was so long ago. Yet, the feeling of evil would not let you take the eyes off it. It was hypnotizing to a dangerous degree. One wanted to pick it up and maybe use. For what? What was it telling you to do? Another mystery but so hypnotizing. That was why the President always carried it around. He thought it was his protective charm that warned of the evil because it was evil itself. So far, it worked and quite well. He opened the folder and took the sheaf of papers out. There were about fifty pages of the photographs of the original text and as many pages of the translation to the modern Mongolian language. The President could not understand the ancient linguistics as well as he should have. Although there was not much of the difference in those two languages, it was different. The writing and the meaning of some words made it quite difficult to understand if you were not a trained scholar or someone accustomed to seeing it. The President took an apple from the fruit bowl on the side table, bit into it and begun reading. There were sandwiches and all kinds of drinks, including the Bourbon and Whiskey as well, but the President was too involved with the reading to eat anything but fruit or drink anything but water. He could not eat, not now. Still, he was hungry, and the clock on the wall already showed seven in the evening. It was time for dinner, but he could not stop the reading, not now. The words held him at the desk reading and trying to understand the meaning of what he read. That was more important. Food could wait; it would be there later as well.

“My uncle Ogedei just died. It was a strange death, and I heard some rumors, but no facts were supporting it so, we accepted that. Subutai and I were recalled to the Karakorum where the kurultai (meeting or assembly) to elect the new Great Khan were held. We did not actually attend the assembly. We learned that Guyuk, my cousin, had secured enough support to win the election and stayed away. That was safer, maybe even smarter. He could take me for a challenger and start a feud. We did not need one, not now. I needed to think of the war and not the backstabbing and the bloodshed in my own camp. The internal dispute could cost us everything. So, we did not go and made excuses. Instead, we turned to consolidate the conquests in Asia and the Urals. We had so many things to do. I did not have good feelings about Guyuk, but he was the Great Khan now. Being cousins, we knew each other well and even were sociable years ago but not for the last few years. He kept scheming against me trying to minimize my accomplishments in the West, questioning my leadership, questioning me. It was aggravating at least, and Subutai was furious. So, I stayed away from Guyuk because otherwise, we would have to confront each other, and that would not be helpful. Fighting among ourselves would help only the enemy. That would not be good for anyone and, especially, the family and the empire. The Empire came first so, we were able to maintain peace. It was smart. Still, it was hard. Now, he was the Great Khan. It was good that I was so far away.

We were on the way to the Karakorum, about a halfway down, when the news of the election was delivered to us by the messenger from one of my cousins who would have supported me. He was a close cousin and very friendly but not that powerful to change the outcome of the kurultai, even if he tried. His Ulus was too small for that. There were more forces at play, more cousins, uncles, and even brothers. I was ready to give the order to go back to the Golden Horde when the messenger said that he saw a large posse of brigands gathering about five miles ahead and it looked like they were planning to attack a caravan. That was a massive violation of laws and especially, on the Silk Road. He, the messenger, passed only one caravan on the way down and that looked like Khazars. It was not a very large caravan with maybe only twenty soldiers. I had many Khazars in my party and could see that they did not take the news lightly. They wanted me to help. That would be just right. I had two hundred bodyguards with me, and the rest of the party were soldiers as well, not counting women and slaves. Thus, it did not take long to decide. Subutai and I took one hundred guards and galloped forward ahead of the rest of the party. I wanted to save the caravan, to help these people, whoever they were, and punish the thieves. After all, was not that my duty? We tried to maintain the order throughout the empire, and crime was severely punished. Yes, these were the troubling times with war going on almost everywhere, so we had to work harder to maintain law and order in our domains. I wanted my empire to follow the rules, as was only possible. In my opinion, it was achievable, and we did a very job so far. We could protect the Silk Road, and we did our best. Yes, I will talk to the right people and suggest that the guards on the roads and, primarily, the Silk Road were increased. If needed, I would send some of my people to help. That was very important for all of us. The Silk Road was our commercial bloodline.

A messenger from the advance guard came back and told us that a band of Bashkirs, close to a hundred horsemen, was getting ready to attack a caravan of about seventy to eighty people that definitely were Khazars. There were only twenty or so soldiers in that caravan, though, and the rest were women and servants. The Bashkirs had not seen us yet and did not know the danger that was coming. The messenger said that the Bashkirs were concentrating on the prey, not paying attention to the surrounding. Thus, they were not professional soldiers or terrible ones. There was a problem with the Bashkirs lately. They were challenging us with every opportunity and without one. I did not like that and was ready to stamp the disobedience out, but it had to be the decision of the new Khan. The Bashkirs were not under my immediate control, so, I could not act just by myself. Yet, this situation was in the open field, and the Bashkirs were acting like the common thieves. I think they tried to exploit the void of the fighting men guarding the Silk Road due to the war. Many were fighting the war here and there, so caravans and the small towns were less guarded. Bashkirs used that situation to attack the weak and to profit from it. That was not right, and they were warned, but there it was again. That was against the law, and I had to punish them following the law. We moved forward faster, ready to fight if necessary.

It did not take long to teach the Bashkirs the lesson they deserved. It was swift. We killed most of them and then, finished the wounded. We did not want any slaves and had enough of prisoners already. There were two dozen or, so prisoners, and we executed the leaders by breaking their necks and leaving the corpses in the open field for the vultures and the animals. That’s what they deserved. Living like dogs deserved to die like dogs, and they were dogs. A few remaining prisoners were let go. I wanted them to go back to their people and tell the story. I wanted the Bashkirs to know me better and stay where they supposed to be. They knew my name and who I was. If they wanted peace, they had to behave peacefully and follow the law, our law. But, if they had a problem with that, we could fight it out.

We would oblige at any time. This round, the enemy lost almost a hundred men, and we had only seven wounded. What do you say, Bashkirs? Would you like to meet the Kalmyks and the Tatars? Would you like to see a Tumen of the purebred Mongols at your steps? It would not take too long for them to arrive if I ordered. They could show you more, and you will feel it more profound. They could go to your Uluses and burn them down. Subutai and I would not mind leading them personally. So, what is it going to be? Stop doing what you are doing and behave. That would be much better for your health. I promise.

The caravan belonged to the Khazar Princess. She was of the royal house but not too close to the throne, and that is why I did not know her. I may have seen her before but did not remember. I knew the royal house of the Khazars quite well, and many of the nobles served in the Golden Horde. Many were very close to me, my brothers and the other relatives. Some of them knew her, the Princes, but some did not. Yet, everyone knew the name and the house she came from. The name was quite famous. The caravan had suffered some minor losses of a few soldiers and slaves, but the Princess and her entourage were fine. We came just in time to save her from any harm. Yet, she was quite shaken and upset. After all, it was a terrible turn of events. I asked where she was going, and she told us a somber story. Subutai was sitting right next to me, and we were surrounded by a few of my guards and all the Khazars in my party. We listened to the story with interest, and the Khazars looked quite tense. They did not like what they heard. They knew something we did not but were about to learn.

“My father is the Bek you probably know well. He is the general that commanded all our armies and is probably the second most powerful man in the country. All Khazars respected him, and you have so many of us around you,” she was smiling drinking cold water flavored with some rose petals. We offered some kumis and even vine, but she said that cold water was her drink. What could be more precious than water? We, people of the steppes, knew it so well. Water — the precious gift of life. We also knew ice and used it even when we traveled.

“My father was also a second cousin of the Khagan — the Khan of the Khans. Growing up, I think I spent more time in the palace than in our home. That was the time of wars, and our family basically lived in the castle because my father was needed all the time. So, it was much easier for him if we were there. All the children were so close, and we still are. We are still one big family. At the time, we were at war with the Bashkirs and the Kyrgyz. They kept sending war parties that would cross our borders and pillage the villages, kill people.

My father would send the soldiers to pay them back, but it was so difficult to catch them. They were always a few days ahead of us. My father tried to improve the border by building more fortifications and increasing the number of border guards. But, most of our troop were with you and the other Mongol Khans. Thus, we did not have enough people to guard everything evenly. We were short of fighting people, and the cost was mounting. The Bashkirs or the Kyrgyz would show up here or there, and no one could predict where and when it would happen. I do not think we had good spies there.

The Khagan was looking for a peaceful solution; maybe because it was less expensive. So, he decided to marry me off to a moderate Bashkir Prince who was first in line to the throne. The agreement was reached, and I went to Bashkortostan for the wedding. I had no choice, and even no say in the matter. Who am I to argue with the Khagan. My country demanded sacrifees, and I had to do it. My country was first. My family was first. My Khagan was first. I was raised that way, and I understood it very well. You know what I mean. When you belong to the leading family, you have many obligations.

My wedding party was quite impressive — over five hundred people, and we carried the gifts fit for the royal wedding. Well, it was almost a royal wedding. The Prince was a nice man, a little shy, quiet but amiable. I think he was somewhat younger than I. He was short and of a slight build and not an attractive man. He was bolding already. That was not his fault, and I could learn to deal with it. It would not be that difficult if there were a big goal to accomplish. He could learn to become more attractive. I thought he would. The purpose of the wedding was much higher than that, and we were willing to do it right, for our countries, for our people. We wanted a long-lasting peace that could be achieved through this, and that was good for both people. The present Khan was old and getting fragile so, my groom to be could become the Khan and soon. That was the gossip already so, the wedding was almost royal after all. After we arrived and rested, there was a great feast, and the wedding was supposed to be in three days. More nobility had to arrive yet, and they were coming by the minute.

The feast was lavish with mountains of food and vine, dancers, wild animals, fakirs (a Muslim or Hindu religious ascetic or mendicant monk commonly considered a wonder-worker) and the acrobats. Music was for all tastes. It was fit for a more powerful king than the Bashkirs, but we were there. That was a few hundred people affair, and I understood that it was the cream de la cream of the Bashkir nation and of the neighboring states. I think everyone who was someone in that country was there. About an hour in, right when the dancers became somewhat wild and outgoing, the uncle of my groom to be and his party, arrived. He was surrounded by a few warriors dressed as for a battle that was quite unusual for the feast of this type. Almost without delay, he shot the Khan with an arrow and pierced the groom with a spear that he took from a guard. It was fast and so efficient. It was clear, he’s done it before. None of the people present did anything about it, more, they surrounded him, the uncle, with a sharp display of support. It looked like it was their will, and he was just the messenger. It seemed like everything was prearranged and carried out precisely. It seemed like everyone knew what will happen and was involved. It was well orchestrated, but we were shocked and frozen in place. Then, he killed our ambassador, and looking at me said:

“Take your people and go. We do not want you and, as you can see, there is going to be no wedding. Take your ambassador and go. Tell your uncle to expect us soon. There is no peace, there is war. You, Khazars, owe us and a lot. We are coming to collect that.” He was smiling now, but it was not a welcoming smile of goodwill. That was a smile of a hyena just before it strikes and tears you apart. He looked like a hyena. That was a smile of an open enemy that knew that he had an upper arm. That was the open declaration of war, and we had to carry it to our people. We were free for now, but I had a bad feeling.

We hurried to the caravan stationed just a mile or so away and moved out swiftly. The Bashkirs did not let all of us go. They kept many slaves and most women. They also killed a few soldiers and the noblemen. I was not scared, but my people were. It did not look good. Nothing looked good. The Bashkirs could change their minds and fast, and we could not do anything about it. We were in their capital, and there was so many of them and just a few of us. We could not defend ourselves even if we tried. Two days later, we were here, and you saw what happened. Was it planned as well? It looked that way. They could’ve planned that all along. Why would they let me go? I am expensive. Now, they could claim that the bandits attacked us. They could’ve even asked for ransom. Yes, the uncle looked like a hyena, and he was one. If not for you, we would not survive. Was that another war, only a big one?”

“I liked the Princess right away, from the first time I had laid the eyes on her. She was so beautiful, gentle, so feminine. I may add exotic but in a good way. She was so simple yet, different. Our women were different, the product of the steppes. She was also so bright and educated, and we could talk of nothing and the important things for hours, well into the night. She was so well versed. She knew so much and was interested almost in everything. But, she hated war.

Not that she did not know or understood war, she just hated it to the full depth of her heart. I hate wars as well, but what can do. Too often, it is a necessity. And, those eyes… I don’t think I could describe the depth of these eyes. They were bottomless, and I could see the eternity full of passion there. One of the Khazars, when I mentioned that, said that they called it the “Jewish Eyes.” I liked that. It sounded so true, so descriptive. On many occasions, I found myself drowning in that depth of the exotic beauty and ancient wisdom. And, she was all that. She was everything I always wanted in a woman and could not find anywhere, not in the lands I’ve been. Yes, I was in love and so, was she. How could that be in any other way? I was not going to the Karakorum anyway and going back to the Golden Horde could wait for a while. I was not planning for any new campaigns this year, and the management of our domain was done quite well by my brothers and the cousins. All of them were loyal and the real family. The Golden Horde was getting ready for a new push, and I was not needed for now. Things were just fine, and I could afford to take a break for a few months. I needed it, and there was nothing wrong with that. Even a Khan could use a break. So, I was going to escort the Princess and to visit the Khazar Kingdom. It would be good politically anyway. Just a friendly visit from a good neighbor but it could warn the Bashkirs to stay away. Still, it was not a political visit but a friendly one. Also, I was not going to allow the Bashkirs to attack them, not while I was there. It had to stop, and I was going to see to that. After all, I was the Khan of the Golden Horde and had more soldiers by now than any other Horde. I had more soldiers that the Bashkirs ever had, and my soldiers were better and by much. The Kyrgyz would come to me as soon as they see what side I am on. My army could turn in any direction if I wanted. Maybe we could avoid that war altogether, but our involvement had to be obvious for that. Did I have any other reason for visiting the Khazars? Hm…, maybe. We’ll see, we’ll see. In the worst case, I could always send a Tumen or two to Bashkortostan, and that would be it. Let them feel what the Khazars feel. The Khazars were more important to us, while the Bashkirs needed a lesson, but I needed an excuse for that one. So, with great pleasure, we went to Bukhara where the Princess lived, and I planned to visit Samarkand and a few more cities along the way. I heard it was beautiful this time of the year. It was the time of the fruit. I was really looking forward to the trip and the company.”

“The reception was much more than we expected. It was not just the expected bowing to the visitor who was much stronger than you are. It was not even the respect of the partner that tolerates you when you were too close for comfort. Anyone would bow to us when we knock on your door. It was a big welcome of a friend or even a relative who really loves you. Nothing there looked artificial or even superficial. They wanted you there, and they welcomed you there. Yet, the bad news traveled fast and much quicker than that, in Central Asia. They knew already what happened with the wedding and the Bashkir Prince. They knew it all, and the troops were gathering on the border in anticipation of the Bashkirs and their collaborators coming in force. They did not believe it was avoidable. After all, the Bashkirs killed the emissary, and that was too much to ignore. That was a huge offense that had to be repaid in blood. There would be war, and nothing could be done to avoid it. Thus, if you could not avoid the worst tragedy of war, fight it, and fight to win. They asked us for help, and Subutai gave an order to move one Tumen towards Bashkiria, threatening them from both sides. We did it in the open so, the Bashkirs would not mistake our intentions for anything else. They should know that we chose the side. We wanted to punish the Bashkirs, and we always did what we wanted. That worked for us the best. I informed our Khan of my moves and ordered some soldiers stationed close by to move to Khazaria. The Bashkirs and the Kyrgyz will notice it soon enough. That should be a very clear message.

Shortly, I asked for the hand of the Princess, and she became my wife. I was so happy. I was sure she was the one I was looking for. She became not just my first wife; she became the favorite wife and the loved one. My first wife accepted it without a fight and kept overseeing the house. She was the best person for that and the most trusted at that. She was a good friend if nothing else. Now, when my Khazar wife is dead, I can say openly that I loved her so much and her death was the biggest tragedy I ever experienced. We were together for five years and had four sons. They were Jews by birth and the religion that would become the strongest foundation for the new Mongolian nation that was based on our culture and the Jewish wisdom. If you mix the Mongols and the Jews, would that come out, right? Yes, if you mix it right, it would come out right. Why would not it? We were the two greatest nations in the world. The Jewish Mongolian Nation… So far, it did. It was working just right. Somehow it was a pure unity of two souls and two bodies. Was it God’s design?

Look at my children; look at the other children. I converted to Judaism five years ago, and many of my court did the same thing. Many married the Khazar women, and many of the Khazar men married our women. We were becoming a new nation of the Jews and fast. I liked it, my court liked it, the Golden Horde liked it, and the visitors from other Hordes loved it so much. It was spreading like a disease but a good one that made you better, stronger, smarter. That was a happy time, and we all prospered. It was good for me, my family, and the empire. It was a good all-around and for all. It was the time of peace and prosperity, where we tried to build instead of destroying. We did not fight any big wars but raided some areas just to calm the agitated citizens down. Once in a while, it was necessary. Not everyone believed in the peaceful coexistence as we did. So, we had to enforce the rules even if we did not really want it. I was planning a new campaign in Europe but not before my wife would come back from Khazaria. For now, we were just building up the strength growing more affluent and more comfortable in our domain.”

“She and two of our sons went to visit her family in Khazaria that she had not seen since she got married to me. That was in early spring. It was a long and hard trip, and I was against it, but she wanted it so much. She insisted, and I could not say no. She missed her family, the siblings. What could go wrong? That was our land, after all. She wanted to see the family and to show her sons. That was so natural. I would do the same. I could not really say no, but I made sure that the protection was adequate, and the caravan was supplied well. She had everything she may need and more. The travel would take a few months, and anything could happen. Deserts, wild animals, climate, weather, bandits, sicknesses, bad food… So, we informed all the fortifications and the towns along the way, asking them to be vigilant more than usual and ready for anything. Anything was the operative word. They were prepared and committed. I knew they would do it right. My anger would not be an option. They would not survive it. That was clear. My massagers kept us connected, and we knew every step of the way. Yet, she got sick and even our best Chinese doctor, who was accompanying her, could not save her. Despite everything, she died after a week of suffering. We still do not know what was wrong. Was it just a weird sickness that did not strike anyone else but her? Was she poisoned? Was it aimed at me? Children? Thank god, the children were not harmed. She was buried at the Karakorum. They dressed her in the best clothes she had beautifying it with jewelry I gave her as the wedding gift. That was the most expensive jewelry I could give her, fit for a Queen, and she was a Queen. She was my queen, our queen. I could not make it to the funeral on time, but I went there anyway. I saw the grave and gave the order to make it hidden as was only possible. I did not want anyone to find it and rob my wife of her dignity. Not after she died. Not ever. Unfortunately, it happened. There were too many people that had no respect for the dead. Even the Mongols… The grave of Genghis Khan should not be located, and neither is my wife’s and the rest of our family. Our tombs were so sacred. That was the law and the long-standing custom. The grave-robbers had no honor, and they wanted to strip you out of it even after your death. They succeeded way too often. No, not my so loved wife. She should lay there undisturbed, goddess-like. The order was given and carried out with the meticulousness; only my best soldiers could demonstrate. If you did not know precisely where it was, you would never find it. That was a sacred grave. It was done well, and with the utmost respect, she deserved.

Yes, she died, but she was the beginning of the new nation — The Jewish Nation of Mongols. Is that why she died? Was it just her time? We were so happy. The Jewish Nation of Mongols. Everyone liked it so much. Maybe not everyone. That was entirely possible. Bashkirs? Muslims? The Great Khan? We’ll investigate it but, in the meantime, she was gone. The Jewish Nation of Mongols. How would that turn out? I really would like to know. Would I live that long? Would the Jewish Nation of Mongols live that long? Be happy the Golden Horde.”

Aaron Cohen

“Aaron, enough already. Stop brooding and go to the Shul. You’ll be late. Not on Friday. You are never late. Eat something quick and go. Here is a sandwich. Eat and go. They are not going to wait for you.” Leah, Aaron’s wife, was worried. Aaron was the only husband she had, and his problems were her problems. How else it could be? Not in a real Jewish family. That’s how they were raised. That’s how their parents were. Normally, Aaron was a perfect husband and a great father. He did not drink or mistreated her or the children. He was very considerate of the family and worked hard. Children… What if he was sick? What about the children then? “On the other hand, Aaron, go to a doctor. The Shul can wait. You’ve there before. It is there for a hundred years already and be there tomorrow. There is a black doctor, two streets over. What’s his name? I am sure he works on Fridays. Otherwise, why would he open an office so close to us? When our doctors go to the Shul, he may have some good business. Go there. He would check you out and give you a pill. A vitamin pill… It should be good for you but see if it’s kosher. Those dreams drive you nuts, and you scare the kids. And, I am beyond the scare already and beyond going nuts. You drive everyone nuts. You take the whole thing too seriously, I think. I also had a bad dream the other night. I was dreaming that we were eating pork on Pesach (Passover). Can you imagine pork and on Pesach? That was scary, and I woke up in cold sweat. It was so frightening. Yet, it came out to be indigestion. That’s all. It happens. Not a big thing, but so startling. Would you believe that? Pork on Pesach… That takes the cake. I told it to the Rebbitzen (the Rabbi’s wife), and we laughed. She said that, if we had pork for Pesach, Moses would turn in his grave and take the promised land away. That was funny. I believe he would. What’s the point? What is the shtick? After all, even he, Moses, may walk away. And we laughed again. Nice, is not it. She is a good soul. That was so hilarious and in a good spirit. You are frightened, and then, you laugh. That’s life for you. So, laugh with us and go to that doctor. He’ll see you. That is why he is here. What’s his name? Don’t remember. He should be there.”

Leah did not have anyone close or even related (not that she knew that for sure) in New York, but her husband and his family. Her parents were living in Israel, where they were born. They were religious, but the grandparents were not. Her father had only the mother, and she was from Russia somewhere, but she passed away when he was a child, and there were no other siblings. The grandparents on the mother’s side were the survivors of the Holocaust, and they met in Israel in the late forties serving together in the Haganah and then, the Palmach. The grandfather arrived in Israel from Poland via Chelmno — the first of the Nazi German extermination camps located about 50 kilometers from Lodz, Poland. He was a teenager then and very lucky. He was successfully hiding almost until the end of the war. When he was finally arrested and sent to the camp, he was much stronger than the others and then, made to work. In the end, he came out alive when not too many did. Yes, he was fortunate, but the memories had never left him. What he went through, he had to remember. That was his obligation to the dead. The countless tragedies and the most profound hate had filled him with a fire that burnt everything inside, making him hollow and unforgiving. Many Jews were that way, especially in Israel. How to forget what they saw and experienced? How to forgive? What to forgive if you could not forget anything? That made the fire burn. All he wanted now was to find the responsible for the past and the present and to pay them back. Yes, he wanted to deal death to those who’s done it to his people. Past… That past was never really in the past. He could not do much there, but the present was right there and needed attention. So, it was the Haganah then, the Palmach and then, the Mossad. That was his life, and everything else had to fit into that life.

The grandmother was a Hungarian Jew and the survivor of the death march orchestrated by Eichmann, SS, and the Hungarian Nazi collaborators. When the column was still in Budapest and moving toward the outskirts, her mother pushed her into a doorway when they were turning onto another street. The mother mouthed “Live,” and that did not leave any room for an argument. That was the mother’s wish and the last order she had to follow. She watched the column with the mother going away disappearing in the distance, but the mother had never turned back. They never saw each other again. So many, millions never did. She never saw anyone from the family again, and that was so typical back then. Your loved ones went one way, and you went the other, not necessarily on your own accord. And you never saw each other again. You never even knew what happened to them and where. All you really knew was that they were no more. Why was it arranged that way? Whose idea was it? What did you do to any of those angry people? Why did they hate you so much? Why did they hate everything about you, and not even know you? Why were they after your blood? Why did they want you to die and in the most terrifying way? Why, why, why… There was no clear answer, just some whispers, and rumors. Then, the whole world falls apart and crushes on you. Who knew that the world was so heavy? You lose everything, and much more.

You missed the loved ones and the people you used to know. You missed the things that once surrounded your life. Toys, books, art, furniture, the house… You missed the pets and almost friends that one day refused to look in your direction. They were finally told that you were Jewish and that was not good. That was another story. Next time… Maybe. You did not really know what happened to any of them. If you truly understood what happened to them, that would mean it happened to you too, and maybe you were not alive. Maybe there was no life beyond the one in the past. Maybe… The fuzzy past… Was it your past? But, you are here, now, and they are not.

What does it mean? Did it mean you had to keep going for yourself and most of all, for them? For all of them… They all need it. Yes, that’s what it means, but that’s so hard. You’ll grow, and that will become harder and even harder than that. So much responsibility and you were just a child. If you succeed, they succeed as well. You cannot just leave them in the past with no chance of memory. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for them. They would do it for you. They had done it for you already.

It took for her over six months to get to Palestine. How did she make it? She did not know or chose not to remember. That could be an act of mercy. How did she avoid all the dangers of the world of predators lurking everywhere and in full force? She did not know. How she did not die along the way, right in the thicket of everything evil? She did not know. When evil was bigger than anything else and good was barely alive, she kept going on. How did she manage to avoid that evil? She did not know. Still, she was there and full of the burning fire yet, she had no story to tell. All she knew that she and a few more were still alive and somewhat whole. Maybe forgetting everything, every little thing was the way of surviving. Maybe. It happened to many before her. Perhaps that’s what the brain did to protect her sanity and still be sane and incredibly bright. How could all that happen to a teenage girl, we would never know? Naturally, these two had to meet and to fight together. Yet, after everything she suffered and the burning desire to repay the word for the injustice, she became a teacher. She always thought that children had suffered the most, and by helping these children, she was defying the evil. Maybe that what her mother’s word “live” meant. Help yourself, help other children.

What else could she do to defy the evil with most effectively? She was working mostly with orphans being the mother and the family they did not have and often, did not even remember. She was always so proud when later in life met some of these orphans all grown up and often, well accomplished and even famous. What could be more important and deserving more pride? Helping the disadvantaged children, especially the orphans, to survive and even prosper. What else was out there? What else could be more important? Nothing she could think of. Her mother told her to live, and she did it to the best of her abilities.

Would her mother be proud of her? She believed, no, she knew, yes. Her mother would be proud of her. She conquered evil. She was rebuilding the lives of those who had it badly damaged, almost destroyed, and even extinguished. It was not much different from her own life, and she could help. She wanted to help, to give them the strength to fight, maybe to get reborn, regenerated. She knew how to do that. No, evil did not succeed; it was just the temporary darkness and then, the light and happiness. There was always light after dark. In the end, life wins, you win. Evil could prevail only temporarily if at all. One could fight it off, push it away, put it down. Humanity was better than that, stronger than evil. It could be done; it was done.

Leah’s marriage was arranged as it was often done in the religious communities. Israel, America was not that far, after all, just a plane flight away. Someone was talking to someone else, the telephone calls were exchanged, and the letters with pictures arrived. A shadchan (a matchmaker) or some call them yenta, came and the deal was made. What deal? No one was going to profit in this deal, that was not in agreement, but both could be happy. That was hope. None of them was rich and not even in the money. Both families were hardworking people, and that was their legacy, but they knew happiness. Even a poor Jew could be happy, and money had nothing to do with that. Well, it could help, but it was not essential. How much money do you need to be happy? When is enough? Ah, you do not know. What does it tell you? Thus, she went to New York and the two weddings and the rest of it. There was a wedding — two weddings: one in Israel and one in New York. Too many people from New York could not go to Israel at the time, so, there was a second wedding. Well, it was not exactly the wedding but a good celebration where she could meet the mishpocha (the relative network). In the secluded life of the Williamsburg Jewry, it was essential. That was your bloodline, your link to the community, your future life. These people would help no matter what and you should support them. That’s your clan, your tribe, your family, and your religion from now on. Were Leah and Aaron happy after the wedding? How would you define that? They had a place to live, food to eat, children to raise and to worry about, many friends and relatives, and he did not drink or use drugs. Even in America… They often smiled and went to places together. They had a home and a family. So, they were better off than most of the families were and happy as only they could be. They were happy only as they could be. Happiness was not an inherited condition but an acquired one so, search for it and do not spare the expense. Give happiness all it needs. Make happiness happy. It would pay you back one day and maybe soon. One had to work hard to attain happiness and be a little lucky to keep it for a longer period.

The violent dreams of Aaron had never stopped; instead, they were becoming more profound, in more details and coming more often. It was alarming to Aaron, almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Now, it was on display nearly every day, well, every night. Aaron was exhausted and not be able to rest. He was falling asleep during the prayers and snapping at everyone, even the children. Children… That was not good. How do they deserve that? How are they responsible for anything? They were just children, the Jewish children in New York. That was New York and not the Wild West. Aaron worried, but he was not in control. Something beyond him was in charge and demanding.

Soldiers, horses, screams, crying women and children, mutilation and death. Fields covered with bodies of dead and wounded. The broken weapons… The chaos, the blood, the pain in the air. The Terror. The burning villages and towns and the slaves worked to death were blurring his vision all day long and then, the night would bring them back afresh. Nights were even more violent. So many people and not so many alive. Mountains of the dead, fields of dying. People were running, horses were running, blood was running getting hungrily sucked in by the dry soil. Death was running its course. Every night when the dream was at its worst, Aaron wanted to wake up, so to shake it off but the day did not bring any relief, and he wanted to go back to sleep, so to forget it. Aaron was feeling the physical exhaustion, and he was getting sick. No, Leah was right. Something had to be done.

“Aaron, there is a telephone call for you. The Mongolian Embassy???”

“Aaron, what happened? Mongolia… Of all places? Baruch Hashem… What’s going on with Mongolians? What is all that about?” Leah was beside herself. Aaron said they invited him to the Embassy for a talk. They wanted to tell him something. Now he was back and looked very confused. “Tell me. I worry. Everyone worries. Your mother called. They worry. What is it? What did the Mongolians say?”

“Leah, they are saying that I am a direct descendant of Batu Khan and the Khazar Princess. They do not know her real name because they could not find a document mentioning her name. They took my blood for the DNA testing and sure thing, everything matches the story. I am the one. They are saying that every fourth man in Europe and Asia has some Mongolian blood but the Jews somewhat less. So, it is rare. I have a tiny percentage of it, but it matches the Mongolian royal blood. Also, I have a large percentage of the Khazar blood from that region and then, the Ashkenazy blood of Eastern Europe. Also, they are saying that the percentage of the Mongolian Royal blood I have is the highest they ever saw. Thus, I am a direct descendant of the Royal house. They want me to go to Mongolia and be with what they call “my people.” They are also saying that there was an ancient prophecy stating that, when the certain conditions were met, the descendant of Genghis Khan will come back, and the country will flourish again. They are saying that all conditions mentioned in the prophecy are met right now and I must go there and make the prophecy work. Mongolia… Jews in Mongolia and I am the one? How could that be? They are saying that millions of people depend on me, and I would be the highest advisor to the President and that the President must listen to me. That’s all in the prophecy. If I did not come, the prophecy would not work, and that would be a disaster for the country. The Biblical proportions… This is really crazy. Have you ever heard anything more meshuga than that? I am afraid that this is true. Remember the dreams?”

The Rabbi was shocked, and for the first time, he did not know what to say. He always had something to say, but not this time. That was bad, beyond bad. A Jewish Mongol — a Mongolian Jew… How was that even possible? But, if it started almost a thousand years ago and on a such a scale, many of those Mongols were, in some twisted reality, ethnic Jews. On the mother’s side, they were Jews, and that had repeated itself in many generations. Then, in so many cases, they were Jews on both sides. Generation after a generation, mothers, fathers, and children. Even if the religion was diluted to the point of non-existence, they were the ethnic Jews and that what counted in the end.

Is not, that right? That was the attempt of Jewification of Mongols and the Mongol Empire. Batu Khan? Subutai? The Golden Horde? Who knew such a thing? Were the Khazars the ethnic Jews? How do we know that? What do we know? Mongols… The Butchers… Did they succeed? Batu Khan of them all? The wild locust of the orient? Jews? Did they succeed by any measure? It did not look like that, but the dent was huge if that was true. They claim to have the documents, the proof. Prophecy… If that was the case, there was another lost Jewish tribe. The lost Jewish tribe of Mongolia… Wonderful. Crazy.

“Aaron,” the famous Rabbi looked somewhat confused and uncomfortable. He was folding and unfolding the steel-rimmed glasses that he rarely took off. Some joked that he was born with the glasses and with years, he just upgraded it. Now, he was twisting it in his hands. Nervously… That was the most significant indication of him trying to deal with something he did not know how to deal with. He knew so much. He thought he knew it all. But that was new. How do you understand it, measure it? What gives? Rabbi Simon Shlamowitz was seventy-nine years old and fifty-five of them a Rabbi. He came from a long line of Rabbis (at least five generations as he knew of) and saw or heard just about everything. He saw the socialism, capitalism, wars, the Holocaust, the anti-Semites ruling the world around him and the liberals in the American Congress. He heard many of their speeches. Many of those speeches, even Hitler, would not make. The liberals were the worst of it. So, uneducated. They meant hunger, death, and distraction because they believed in something very wrong. If they ruled, many would die, and so many millions did already. Look at the French revolution and the guillotines, the Soviet Union and the labor camps, Hitler, the death camps and the war of extermination, China, Cuba, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Venezuela, and some others, many others. That’s what the left politicians full of poison and jealousy for what you had, but they did not earn, could do to you, and they never failed. They never failed to do that to the others while perishing in the process. There was the rule of a minority, injustice on the massive scale, hunger to the point of famine, lack of everything, and most of all, honesty. And, the executions just to match the supplies to the number of the supplied. Redistribution of wealth, of something you did not work for and did not deserve but wanted so much. The liberals were ready to kill, and in mass so, the material possessions would become free. Then, you waste “free.” It was free so, why cherish it. He saw and experienced it all, and nothing could shock him any longer, but this did.

“You see, Aaron, I cannot tell you what to do in this situation. It is entirely up to you. But, I can advise you to my best ability, to my best understanding of everything you told me. If there is a lost Jewish tribe and they want you, you must go and help. That would be a big Mitzvah (something good a Jew was expected to do). That could be a Mitzvah of all Mitzvah. Can you pass on that? Can you ignore it even if there was a slight chance?” He finally put the glasses aside and seriously looked at Aaron. “What if you could bring them back to us? What if that what God meant to be? Could you pass on that? It’s a modern country, and I do not think you risk anything. In the worst case, you come back, and we’ll be waiting for you. I think you should go. I think you should do your best and help them. Who knows, that could be a prophecy they knew, but we missed. Now, when I know it, I’ll start looking for it. If they have it, we should have it too. I recall now that the jewelry of the Princess hidden in the Afghan museum from Taliban had some Mongolian royal and Jewish symbols. I did not pay attention to that back then. No one did. Could that be hers? With this story, anything is possible. Go, and God bless you. You try your best and, if you need us, we are always here for you. Always.”

Ulaanbaatar

“Mr. President! Time to go to the airport. You wanted to meet the man from America, and he is arriving soon. The motorcade is waiting downstairs.” That was the Chief of the Presidential Personal Security Detail. He was a man of a few words and of the unquestionable loyalty, but his face was expressionless, offering nothing. He was tough, made of the same unbreakable mold the great khan’s bodyguards were. He will follow the orders no matter where they led, and the country was his priority. Yet, he would die for the President. The new man was coming. Would he die for that man? Was that man to die or to live for?

President Vagabundi raised his eyes to the plaque on the wall just above a suite of armor attributed to Batu Khan. The historians believed it was his or one of his sons. Everything matched including the symbol on the breastplate. It very well could have been his. The plaque above and somewhat to the right of the suite of armor was the 15th-century prophecy everyone in the country new:

“In a time of six hundred years,

a man of the blood that is yours,

but mixed with the blood of your fathers,

the greatest Bataars ever known,

will come to the steppes, no, be flown,

in glory — rebuild the Khanate.”

The President got up, put the jacket on, checked the tie and the hair in the mirror, and went out. This was the day. Was the prophecy, right? Only the time would show, but the time was not on the Mongolian side. Somehow, nothing was going right. The country was not moving forward even with the baby steps. It was going sideways at best but mostly, backward to the problematic past. Could it be any worse than that? Maybe, but definitely, it could be better. Let see what the new day would bring, and the old prophecy had predicted.

Other Books by Boris Zubry

Mr. Boris Zubry is also the author of:

“Miles of Experience” — a collection of short stories;

“Miles of Experience — Revised” — a collection of short stories;

“Arrogance of Truth” — a collection of satiric stories, and poetry;

“Arrogance of Truth — Revised” — a collection of satiric stories and poetry;

“Chess Master” — a political thriller;

“Puska” — a novel;

“You, and I” — a collection of poetry,

“People, children, faces” — a poetic play;

“And Winds of Revolution Blew…” — a political thriller;

“Miles of Thoughts” — a collection of short stories;

“And God Created Cats” — a novel;

“From Russia with Hate” — a novel;

“Miles of Learning” — a collection of short stories;

and numerous literary and technical publications.

Copyright

@ 2018 by Boris Zubry

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in the retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in the media.

First Edition

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental.

ISBN: 9781099914898

Printed in the United States of America

Zubry Publishing — ZP — Princeton, USA

boriszubry@comcast.net

Content

Boris Zubry
THE JEWISH NATION OF MONGOLS

Aaron Cohen

Ulaanbaatar

Mongols

Ulaanbaatar

President Vagabundi

Batu Khan

President Vagabundi

Ulaanbaatar

Aaron Cohen

Ulaanbaatar

Other Books by Boris Zubry

Copyright