Picture the scene:
1470, at
the Shrine of the First Queen on the Mongolian steppes. It has been two hundred
some years since the death of Genghis Khan. His empire has shattered and the
tribes of Mongolia rove the steppes, warring amongst themselves, most recently to
fill the power vacuum left by the childless Great Khan Manduul. The only
legitimate path to the throne: marriage to his young, childless widow,
Manduhai.
The
twenty-three-year old queen emerges from her ger (big felt tent, sometimes
called a yurt) amidst her sparse followers. For dramatic effect, the sky is
grey and overcast, the wind whipping the banners of the small Mongol Horde she
commands. The young woman makes a heartfelt speech at the Shrine of the First
Queen, adamantly refusing all of her suitors and vowing, in the most colorful
language possible, her intentions to reunite the Mongols, and asking the spirit
of the old queen to tear her to bits if she betrays her nation.
To support
her claim, the young widow summons forth a crippled seven-year-old boy to stand
beside her at the shrine. He is the only known direct male descendant of
Genghis Khan in Mongolia, and Manduhai declares him to be the new Great Khan, marrying
him. The two outcasts – orphan and widow – stand defiant in the face of all
odds, resolute in their intention to take their small following and reunite the
warring tribes of Mongolia into a nation.
Who wouldn’t
want to watch this movie?
And the
best part is that, other than the dramatic flair about the wind whipping the banners
and the cloud cover, I DID NOT MAKE THIS UP. So, who was Queen Manduhai and what
became of her bid for power?
First, some
back story. In case you were living under a rock during World History class, Genghis Khan was one of
the single most influential humans in history. In 1206, Genghis Khan (whose real
name was Temujin – Genghis Khan was a title meaning something like “Great King
of Kings”) united the warring Mongol Tribes, along with various other Turkic,
nomadic tribes In Central Asia. In a ceremony known as kurultai, tribesman
assembled in Genghis Khan’s camp to pledge their support to him as Khan. With
the might of these mounted warriors behind him, Genghis Khan led a conquering
spree across Asia, bringing the world’s great civilizations in China and the
Abbasid caliphate to their knees. In their stead, the Mongols create the
largest, contiguous land empire in world history. (Yes, larger than the Roman
Empire!)
After Genghis Khan’s death in 1227, his Empire split into
four pieces called Khanates (kingdoms) which were ruled by his somewhat ineffective
sons.
Despite this, the empire did not immediately
collapse, but carried on for a century or so before the locals in the khanates
kicked their Mongol overlords to the curb. In that time, much of Asia was
consolidated into a unified trade zone (a bit like a Medieval EU) which gave
Medieval Europeans not only better access to much sought after Asian goods, but
also exposed them to history-altering pathogens like the Bubonic plague. For a
more detailed analysis of the Mongol Empire, I leave you in the capable hands of John Green:
Fast-forward to 1448, and the birth of our heroine,
Manduhai. At the time of Manduhai’s birth, it had been several generations since
the collapse of the Mongol Empire, but that didn’t stop various central Asian
warlords from a) attempting to reunite the Mongol tribes, and b) from
attempting to reconquer China and other richer areas of Asia. Manduhai grew up
south of the Gobi Desert living the un-pampered life of a nomad. When she was
sixteen, she became the junior wife of Manduul Khan, who had become Khan by
virtue of the fact that his senior wife was the daughter of a prominent warlord,
Beg-Arslan, who had arranged the marriage between his daughter, Yeke Qabar-tu,
and Manduul because Manduul was of the appropriate lineage and Beg-Arslan
thought he would be sufficiently easy to control. (Mm. Those Steppe Politics.)
There is no
clear record of how or why Manduhai came to marry Manduul Khan, but it seems
likely that she was his favored wife, at least briefly. As Manduul Khan grew older, it became
increasingly clear that he was unlikely to have children with either of his
wives and two rival claimants emerged as credible heirs: one was a capable
general named Une-Bolod, who was dismissed for being a little too threatening, and for being a
descendant of Genghis Khan’s brother, rather than The Man himself. Manduul instead
invested his hopes in a flashy male descendent of Genghis Khan’s named Bayan
Mongke, aka The Golden Prince.
The Golden
Prince and Manduhai were close to each other in age and had similar
upbringings, but Manduhai couldn’t stand the prince not least because he was
Manduul Khan’s favorite at court, thereby displacing Manduhai from her once privileged
position. Secondly, the Golden Prince was arrogant, inexperienced, and rash.
Manduhai preferred the slightly older, and more level-headed Une-Bolod.
A quick
note on Mongol marriages: although polygyny was common among the Mongols,
Mongol women had far more control and freedom in their marriages than most
other women in the Medieval world (or indeed, any other place and time in
history). Gender roles and marriage tend to be more egalitarian in nomadic
societies, because everyone must economically contribute for the group to
survive, and there is less property to squabble over. Among the Mongols, the
most significant pieces of property were gers, carts, and livestock. Gers and
carts belonged to the women in the clan. Mongols tended to enter into their
first marriages as adolescents, with the boys being about fourteen and the
girls being about sixteen. In most cultures, brides move in with their husbands’
tribes and are expected to consummate their marriages immediately. Among the
Mongols, in contrast, the boys usually went to live with the brides’ tribe, and
there was a general expectation that sex would happen whenever the bride (who
was older) deemed it appropriate.
In a
clan-based system, like the ones kept by the Mongols, genealogies are
important, however, like Japanese culture, among the Mongols household was more
significant than paternity. This was a precedent set by Genghis Khan when his
first and most beloved wife, Borte, was kidnapped. Upon rescuing her in Homeric
fashion, Genghis Khan discovered that she was pregnant and the timing left the
paternity of the baby in question. Rather than rejecting his wife and the baby,
Genghis Khan declared that any child of his wife’s was his child as well. In
Mongol marriages, if a couple was not producing babies, rather than simply
dismissing the wife (as was common in most other cultures), Mongols tended to
assume the problem was with the male equipment and a younger brother or other
junior male relative would be invited to help the woman conceive. Finally, if a
man (especially a Khan) died, a childless widow would usually enter a levirate
marriage with one of his relatives to maintain the alliance: this could be a
younger brother, a nephew, or even one of her husband’s sons by another wife.
While
certain aspects of Mongol marriage might seem enlightened to us, many of the
more “civilized” societies who encountered the Mongols found them to be
repulsive. Christians, for example, viewed levirate marriage as incestuous,
while in China and India, it was taboo for widows to remarry.
Another
important fact about Mongol kingship in marriage: sometimes the most direct and
legitimate path to the Khanate is through marriage to a Khan’s daughter or
widow – which brings us back to Manduhai and her aging husband, Manduul Khan.
Manduul
Khan realized that he was growing older, and that he was unlikely to have
children, and so he was grooming Bayan Mongke, the Golden Prince, to be his
successor, meaning that he fully expected Bayan Mongke to marry his widows,
especially since Bayan Mongke already had one wife with whom he had fathered a
son (who will be important later) therefore proving he was fruitful. In fact,
it was even okay if the Golden Prince
went ahead and hopped in bed with the wives while the old Khan was still alive,
as long as the lovers were not also plotting to undermine or remove the old
Khan.
Plotters
against the Golden Prince led by a stooge called Ismayil, created a Shakespearean
trap in which they first went to the old Khan to accuse the Golden Prince of
sleeping with Yeke Qabar-tu (which he was). Ismayil knew that the Manduul Khan
had already once before dismissed such charges against the Golden Prince, so,
he did not press the khan, but instead left him to stew with this accusation. Meanwhile,
Ismayil went to tell the Golden Prince that Manduul Khan knew about his betrayal.
The cocky young prince doubted that his uncle who so doted on him would have
turned against him, and so Ismayil told him that a messenger from Manduul would
soon arrive to trick the Golden Prince into revealing his disloyalty. Sure
enough, Manduul sent a messenger to ask cryptic questions, which Bayan Mongke
interpreted as a portent of doom, and did not answer. Manduul interpreted the
Golden Prince’s silence as proof of his betrayal. Manduul Khan disinherited him.
Bayan Mongke realized he was in deep doo-doo and he ran away.
I am literally
not making any of this up.
Manduul Khan sent Iago Ismayil
to hunt down the Golden Prince. Ismayil didn’t find the prince, but he did find
Bayan Mongke’s first wife, Siker, who he had abandoned in the Gobi. Ismayil
took Siker to be his wife (something
she didn’t seem too cut up about) and went home. He did not, however, locate
Bayan Mongke’s son (who will be important later). Within the next few years, Manduul
Khan died, his senior wife, Yeke Qabar-tu, had disappeared, the Golden Prince
was killed by thieves in the Gobi, and the Mongol tribes were once again at
war. This is how Manduhai, at the age of twenty-three found herself as the one legitimate
pathway to the Khanate.
Knowing this,
Manduhai recognized that it would be better if she chose a suitor, rather than
waiting to see which warlord kidnapped her first. She had a few options: one
was to marry Une-Bolod, the general and descendant of Ganghis Khan’s brother,
who she probably liked very much, and who would probably maintain a good Mongol
lifestyle, despite not being quite the right genealogy. Another was to marry
Ismayil or some other Muslim warlord, and go live out a pampered life in one of
the cities along the Silk Road. A third option was to surrender herself to the
Ming Dynasty in China, and live as a pampered prisoner. Most of Manduhai’s
followers favored Une-Bolod who had duly sent a marriage proposal.
Manduhai
chose none of the above. She was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no
man helping her to reunite the Mongol tribes. She flat out refused Une-Bolod
(who, like a gentleman, continued to support her rule). Manduhai realized,
however, that if she remained husbandless, she was still attractive prey for
enterprising warlords. So, she found herself an heir: the seven-year-old son of
Bayan Mongke, Batu Mongke. Manduhai first located the boy when he was five, but
he was crippled by neglect, and needed to be nursed back to health before he
could be presented as Great Khan.
Even after
Manduhai anointed the boy as Dayan Khan, symbolically marrying him, it was
clear to everyone that she was the real ruler. She made all the decisions. She
led troops into battle, often with young Dayan Khan in a basket riding his
horse side-car style. All the while, she carefully raised Dayan Khan to be a
good ruler. They did in fact cohabit as a couple after he turned seventeen and
they had eight children together, including three sets of twin boys. But
Manduhai was the ultimate working mom, and did not let her children slow her
down.
Forty years
old, pregnant for the fourth (but not final) time, Manduhai rode into battle,
despite her pregnancy being quite advanced. During the battle, she fell from
her horse (but did not lose the twins she was carrying). The significance of
this fall is that it offered the opportunity for the battle to turn to chaos,
and for loosely held, opportunistic allies to peel off. As a testament to
Manduhai’s leadership and the unity she inspired among the Mongols, four
warriors, all from different tribes, none of them from either Manduhai’s or
Dayan Khan’s tribe, surrounded the queen and brought her to safety.
Although
she slowed her participation in battles after that, Manduhai continued to have
an active role in leadership until she was well into her sixties. She made a
calculated decision to focus on uniting the Mongol tribes into a small,
manageable Khanate, rather than attempting to conquer vast swaths of territory.
She initiated a peaceable, and profitable trade relation with the Chinese, and
protected her people by assuring the Chinese that she had no intention of
invading. (They still built up the Great Wall – just in case.) She also reorganized
the Mongol tribal structure and administrative practices, much of which is
still used today in Mongolia.
In Mongolia, Manduhai is remembered as Queen Manduhai the
Wise, and is a national hero.
Sources: I confess, I only used one source for this
post. (I know, I know, it’s terrible form.) BUT, part of the reason I haven’t
posted in so long is that it takes so much time and energy to write these
babies, even when I am only using one source. Plus, my source is really quite
comprehensive. Are you ready for this?
The
Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan
Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford.
That said, if you liked this post, Weatherford’s book is
certainly worth reading. In a single slim volume, you learn about:
- How Genghis Khan’s daughters were more competent than his sons
- Mongol gender roles and relations
- A wrestling Mongol princess who refused to marry unless a man defeated her in a wrestling match (and none ever did) and became the inspiration for Puccini’s Turandot
- How Christopher Columbus was searching for the court of Manduhai and Dayan Khan
- How Medieval European Princess Hats are styled
off of the headdress of Mongol noblewomen
The Mongol Boqta (left) was inspiration for the European Hennin (right).
TLDR: Mongol Babes are badass.
