Lords of the Bow

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008

Copyright © Conn Iggulden 2008

Con Iggulden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780007201778

Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007285358 Version: 2016-10-10

To my daughter, Sophie

Title PageCopyrightDedicationMapPart OnePrologueChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenPart TwoChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty-OneChapter Twenty-TwoChapter Twenty-ThreeChapterr Twenty-FourChapter Twenty-FiveChapter Twenty-SixChapter Twenty-SevenChapter Twenty-EightChapter Twenty-NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty-OneChapter Thirty-TwoHistorical NoteSamplePrologueChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveKeep ReadingAbout the AuthorAlso By Conn IgguldenAbout the Publisher

PART ONE

‘Behold, a people shall come from the north, and a great nation. They shall hold the bow and the lance; they are cruel and will not show mercy; their voice shall roar like the sea, and they shall ride upon horses, every one put in array, like a man to the battle.’

– Jeremiah 50:41, 42

The khan of the Naimans was old. He shivered in the wind as it blew over the hill. Far below, the army he had gathered made its stand against the man who called himself Genghis. More than a dozen tribes stood with the Naimans in the foothills as the enemy struck in waves. The khan could hear yelling and screams on the clear mountain air, but he was almost blind and could not see the battle.

‘Tell me what is happening,’ he murmured again to his shaman.

Kokchu had yet to see his thirtieth year and his eyes were sharp, though shadows of regret played over them.

‘The Jajirat have laid down their bows and swords, my lord. They have lost their courage, as you said they might.’

‘They give him too much honour with their fear,’ the khan said, drawing his deel close around his scrawny frame. ‘Tell me of my own Naimans: do they still fight?’

Kokchu did not respond for a long time as he watched the roiling mass of men and horses below. Genghis had caught them all by surprise, appearing out of the grasslands at dawn when the best scouts said he was still hundreds of miles away. They had struck the Naiman alliance with all the ferocity of men used to victory, but there had been a chance to break their charge. Kokchu silently cursed the Jajirat tribe, who had brought so many men from the mountains that he had thought they might even win against their enemies. For a little time, their alliance had been a grand thing, impossible even a few years before. It had lasted as long as the first charge and then fear had shattered it and the Jajirat had stepped aside.

As Kokchu watched, he swore under his breath, seeing how some of the men his khan had welcomed even fought against their brothers. They had the mind of a pack of dogs, turning with the wind as it blew strongest.

‘They fight yet, my lord,’ he said at last. ‘They have stood against the charge and their arrows sting the men of Genghis, hurting them.’

The khan of the Naimans brought his bony hands together, the knuckles white.

‘That is good, Kokchu, but I should go back down to them, to give them heart.’