Chapter Three: Ipekel of the Kirghiz
A traditional ger of the steppes.
Bönek groaned, and rubbed his head. The light was streaming through a gap in the tent-flap, splitting his head open. He could almost feel his skull folding apart as he glared, bleary-eyed and through a fuzzy gaze, at his ger.
There was little to tell. It looked as though much had been smashed around, like some wild bout of wrestling had taken place. It was then that Bönek, with a sharp pain to his head, remembered the events which had taken place. He put them together, re-arranged them in his head until they made sense, and then swore, loudly.
Stumbling from the mat and reaching for some clothes, he hurriedly put them on and left the tent; only to be confronted by Eldeçyuk, sitting on a rock and conversing merrily with a pretty woman.
“Leave, maiden,” snapped Bönek. “Eldeçyuk. I may have made a mistake last night. Did I end up, erm…”
Eldeçyuk simply chuckled in response. “You may wish to greet your wife, my Khan. This is Ipekel.”
Bönek turned white. He turned slightly to examine his new bride. She was tall, and well-sculpted, a curious smirk on her face. Her eyes were thin, her skin dark and her eyes deep and lustrous. A fine figure, and not displeasing to the eye.
Ipekel of the Kirghiz, wife of Bönek Khan.
But Bönek had not planned to marry for mere desire alone. He knew how marriage worked; it had to be political, and well-thought through. Perhaps the daughter of a Uyghur or Tatar chieftan; not some Cuman thrust upon him by his new Khan…
A thought occurred to him. He whipped out his blade, and with a sudden fury, raised it to her throat. Spies were not something he liked among his own kind, whatever their use in enemies. But the girl simply stifled a chuckle, and Eldeçyuk laughed heartily.
“What?” snapped Bönek suspiciously. “What is this?”
Eldeçyuk finished laughing, but kept up his amused grin. “As you appear to have deduced, your dear Ipekel here has been thrust upon you by the Cumans as a spy. However, before you kill her, you should probably know that she is not a Cuman but a Kirghiz.”
Bönek frowned. “Why would a Kirghiz work for the Cumans as a spy?”
Ipekel laughed. “Because, oh Khan, I do not. I work for you, now.”
Bönek narrowed his eyes slightly, before some measure of understanding came. “You’ve been playing him,” he murmured, lowering his sword.
Ipekel smiled as Bönek sat down next to them. “It wasn’t hard, my Khan. Acting demure and loyal, meek and humble. I became the perfect bride to give to some foreign dignitary. I was Kirghiz, which was doubly useful to him; it wasn’t hard to develop some story about my people being robbed by your clan.”
Bönek shook his head sharply. “Aahhhh…. You must forgive me, for my head is still dulled by the drug. Why did you do this thing?”
“Because she’s loyal” said Eldeçyuk. “She was but a babe when her father was slain and her mother was taken by the Uyghurs, and your clan were the ones who put paid to them. And why would you notice some herdsman’s daughter? So she plotted and schemed a way to pay you back.”
“So you stepped into his marriage plot”, smiled Bönek. “Knowing that I have no wife, and knowing that I need one. Clever. And now we have a spy in this Cuman’s camp, who can feed him information and gain it in return. Clever…”
“But I do not like being used,” he snarled at her, smile disappearing like a whip-crack. The clouds ahead were darkening, and soon it would be time to break camp, as the Cumans had already done. “You have spoilt my marriage plans, girl. I was waiting for a good alliance! What will I tell the Tatars now? They are a powerful tribe, and it is known that I planned on riding east to pick a wife. This will be an insult.”
But Ipelek remained undaunted. “You are thirty-seven, my Khan, and you have made such a trip many times without choosing a wife. If I may say so, you have probably insulted the other tribes more through such an action than through marrying me. I am, after all, a gift from the Cuman Khan, your most powerful neighbour. And you are not so young, my Khan. You need a son.”
Such a frank look on her face. The Khan was surprised at her. Her voice was logical, matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion. She was a strange one. One he must watch.
She’d told him this, of this plan, of these events, of a change in his whole life, as if it were merely a business transaction. As if she’d known him her whole life. He was taking it too calmly himself, he knew; perhaps he was the same as her, in essence. She was right; he needed a wife.
The world had suddenly seemed like some fine steel mechanism, like the ones that Chinese envoy had shown them. He saw the tree again, growing from his clan. Perhaps she was the soil it grew from.
“Now”, said Ipekel, “what are you going to do about this little problem you have?”
Bönek frowned. “What problem?”
“You are a minor leader. You have sworn allegiance to the Cumans and chosen their Khan as your own. You are his vassal, and he has the right to levy herds and call upon your warriors in wartime. This, I take it, is not a state you wish to perpetuate.”
“Indeed not”, murmured Eldeçyuk.
“Well,” smiled Ipekel, “I think your people have stayed their hands too long. The Karluks have been getting awfully arrogant recently…”
The confederacy of the Karluk Turks, a union owning large pastures in former Turgesh land, the region called Zhetysu...
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