Wolf Totem: A Novel

by Jiang Rong

  First he’d make a complete turn in one direction, screech to a halt, and then reverse direction. When he finally wore himself out, he’d sprawl in the grass, mouth open, tongue lolling to the side, panting and slobbering. Chen discovered that the cub was spending more time and making more revolutions every day, and he realized that the little wolf was making his body work harder in order to shed his old coat for the new one coming in. The first time a wolf sheds its coat, Bilgee had said, comes later in the year than mature animals.

  Zhang Jiyuan galloped up on his horse, his forehead bandaged in white. Chen and Yang, surprised by the unexpected visit, ran out to greet him. "No!” Zhang cried out. "Stand clear!” The horse he was riding, spooked by the movement, was bucking and kicking, keeping everyone at bay. Obviously, the horse had only recently been broken, so they kept their distance to let Zhang get down as best he could.

  Mongol horses are fiery animals, especially the high-strung Ujimchin. They cannot be broken until the spring of their third year. Though they’re thin at that time of the year, they’re big enough to accommodate a rider. If this moment is lost, the horse will never take a saddle or bit. It will remain a wild horse.

  Each spring, the horse herders chose three-year-olds that were relatively tame and gave them to the cowherds and shepherds to break. Those who were successful could ride that horse for a year. If, after a year, the rider determined that the horse was inferior to his other horses, he could return it to the herd, at which time it was given a name. Traditionally, each horse was named after the person who tamed it, with a color added. Bilgee Red, Batu White, Lamjav Black, Laasurung Gray, Sanjai Green, Dorji Yellow, Zhang Jiyuan Chestnut, Yang Ke Yellow Flower, and Chen Zhen Green Flower were notable examples of names those horses would carry throughout their lives. Having several horses with the same name on the Olonbulag was a rarity.

  Horses were the lifeblood of grasslanders. Lacking good horses or a sufficient number of them made it hard for people to escape the ravages of snowstorms, wildfires, and enemy attacks; to make timely deliveries of medical personnel and medicine; to sound the alarm in time to ward off military or natural disasters; to catch a wolf; or to catch up to panicky herds of horses and cattle or flocks of sheep during a white-hair blizzard. Bilgee once said that a grasslander without a horse was like a two-legged wolf.

  As Zhang Jiyuan rubbed his horse’s neck, he gently slid one foot out of the stirrup and, with the horse’s attention diverted, jumped to the ground. The startled animal bucked several times, nearly throwing its saddle, so Zhang quickly grabbed the reins and jerked the horse’s head toward him to keep from getting kicked. It was a struggle, but somehow he managed to lead the horse over to a wagon, where he hitched it to the axle. The animal fought to break loose, making the wagon rock and creak.

  Chen and Yang breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re courting disaster,” Yang said. “Do you really think you can subdue a horse that wild?”

  Zhang rubbed his forehead and said, “It threw me this morning and I took a hit on the head from one of its hooves. It knocked me out, but thankfully Batu was there with me. Lucky for me it’s still young, and its hooves haven’t rounded out yet, so I got off without a broken nose. If it had been an older horse, I probably wouldn’t be here now. But it’s one hell of a horse, and in a few years it’ll have quite a reputation. Out here you have to put your life on the line if you want a truly fine horse. It’s the only way.”

  “You know, you’re starting to make us worry about you. The day you can get control of a fine horse without bandages all over you is the day you’ve finally arrived.”

  “Give me two more years,” Zhang said. “This spring I broke six young geldings, all good horses. In the future, when you go hunting, if you’re short of horses, look me up. My plan is to swap all your present horses for good ones.”

  The new grazing land offered plenty of fresh grass and water, all for a single brigade’s livestock, so they decided to let the horses graze in the proximity of cattle and sheep, at least for a while. With no one to the proximity of cattle and sheep, at least for a while. With no one to move them along, the horses lowered their heads and began grazing.

  Chen and Yang were captivated by the sight of all those big, powerful young stallions with shiny new coats. With each movement, the muscles under the satiny coats rippled, as if carp were swimming beneath the skin.

  The most notable difference between Mongolian stallions and other horses is their long mane, which covers their eyes, necks, chests, and upper legs. The hair grows longest around their necks and on their shoulders, some of it reaching their knees, their hooves, even the ground. The mane flows when they lower their heads to eat, covering half of their bodies and turning them into headless, faceless, hairy demons. When they run, heads held high, that mane billows and flows in the wind, like a Mongol battle flag in all its fullness, the sight of which can throw an enemy into headlong, panicky retreat. Given their violent, mercurial nature, they are horses no one dares try to tame, or rope, or ride. They have two functions on the grassland: stand at stud, and defend the herd. Possessing a strong sense of family responsibility, they never shy from danger; they are mean and tenacious. Stud bulls are idlers that move on after mating, but stallions are the great heads of grassland households.

  It didn’t take long for a fight to break out among the horses. Once each year, the fillies were driven out of the herds in anticipation of a mating war, and this time it occurred right below where the three men were standing.

  They sat on the ground by the wolf pen to watch the battle unfold, joined by the cub, crouched at the end of his chain to watch the action, shuddering like a starving wolf in a snowbank but not otherwise moving. He instinctively feared the powerful stallions yet watched them in utter fascination.

  The herd, which numbered in excess of five hundred horses, was made up of more than a dozen families, each led by a stallion. The largest families had seventy or eighty members, the smallest as few as ten. The families comprised the sons and daughters of the stallions and their wives and concubines. Mating conditions among the ancient horse herds had evolved to a level of civilization greater even than that for humans. The horse herds were able to survive in the cruel grassland environment, surrounded by wolves that could attack at any time, by ruthlessly eradicating the possibility of inbreeding, which prevented a deterioration of the breed and a lessening of fighting ability.

  At the onset of summer, three-year-old females approach sexual maturity, and the stallions abandon their fatherly airs by ruthlessly driving their daughters out of the family, refusing to allow them to remain by their mothers’ sides. Angry, nearly maniacal long-maned fathers drive their complaining daughters away, biting at their flanks as if they were chasing wolves, creating chaos in the herd. For those that find their way back to their mothers’ side, their fathers run up to them, fuming with anger, before the young females can catch their breath. They kick them, nip at them, do whatever it takes to ward off any resistance, until the young horses have no choice but to leave the family herd. They whinny pitifully, begging their fathers for leniency. But the stallions glare, snort, and paw the ground threateningly, refusing to allow them to remain with their mothers, who also suffer the rage of their mates when they try to protect their daughters. In the end, the mothers take a neutral stance, having come to understand what lies behind their mates’ actions.

  Once the daughter banishment wars have run their course, the real battles, the cruel combat over mate selection is launched; it is a true volcanic eruption of male unruliness. The young females who have just been driven away from their families and have nowhere to turn quickly become the objects of contention among stallions of other families; as the males rear up on their hind legs and engage in mortal combat, they tower above the rest of the herd. Their powerful hooves are their weapons, which they wield like hammers, like fists, like axes. Amid the thudding of hooves and clashing of teeth, weaker horses flee in defeat, but well-matched combatants fight on a
nd on. If hooves don’t win the day, they use their teeth, and if that doesn’t do it, they turn and kick with their hind legs, weapons that can crush the skull of a careless wolf. Some of the horses fight on even with their heads split open, or their chests bruised and swollen, or their legs badly injured.

  If the young females take advantage of the chaos to return to their mothers, they now face the wrath of their fathers as well as stallions who would have them as mates, now comrades-in-arms, who chase them back to where they belong.

  One beautiful, robust young female attracted the attention of two of the most ferocious stallions. The filly’s snow white coat shimmered; she had big, beautiful, deerlike eyes. She was tall and slender, and had the light gait of a deer when she ran. Yang Ke was completely taken by her. “What a beauty,” he said. “If I were one of those stallions I’d fight for her.”

  The stallions fought like lions in the Colosseum, caught up in mortal combat. Zhang Jiyuan unconsciously stamped his foot and wrung his hands. “Those two have been fighting over her for days. She’s such a beauty I call her Princess Snow White. But she’s a little princess you have to feel sorry for. One day she’s forced to stay with the family of one stallion, the next day she’s taken away by another. Then those two males fight over her, and who knows where she’ll wind up the next day. When the first two have worn themselves out, a third comes up to take them on. And our princess goes to another home. Now she’s nothing but chattel to be taken at will, first by one stallion, then by another, not even given time to graze on the fresh grass. Look at her—she’s skin and bones. It’s like this every spring. When some of the fillies learn they can’t stay with their own family, they go straight to the family with the most powerful stallion for protection, which keeps them above the fray and provides less wear and tear on their bodies. They’ve seen what wolves can do to a horse, and are smart enough to realize that without a family, without the protection of a powerful father or mate, they’re in danger of becoming the next meal for a pack of wolves. In the end, it’s no exaggeration to say that wolves are behind the wild, ferocious nature of Mongol stallions.

  “Stallions are grassland despots,” Zhang continued. “They worry that a wolf pack might attack their mates and offspring, but other than that, they fear nothing, not wolves, and certainly not humans. We used to talk about working like an ox or a horse, but that has nothing to do with these stallions. There isn’t much difference between a Mongol herd of horses and a wild herd, except, of course, for the geldings. I’ve spent a lot of time with horses, but I still can’t imagine how primitive people went about domesticating them. How did they figure out that they could ride a horse by gelding it?”

  Chen and Yang exchanged looks and merely shook their heads. Pleased by the silent response, Zhang continued, “I’ve thought about that for a long time, and here’s what I think. The early inhabitants of the grassland found ways to catch wild stallions that had been wounded by wolves. After nursing them back to health, they couldn’t ride them, even if they had some modest success with horses that were still small. So they kept trying, one wounded horse after another, generation after generation, until one day the horse they caught had had its testicles bitten off, a new two-year-old. This one they were able to ride after it grew to maturity... That led them to the obvious conclusion. However it happened, it was complex and it must have taken a very long time. And a lot of early grasslanders must have died trying. That’s one of the great advances in the history of man, much more significant than China’s four great inventions of paper, printing, the compass, and gunpowder. Without horses, life in ancient times would have been unimaginable, far worse than getting by without automobiles, trains, and tanks in modern society. And that’s why the contributions to mankind by ancient nomads are incalculable.”

  Chen Zhen broke in excitedly: “I agree a hundred percent. It was a lot harder for the grasslanders to first break wild horses than for ancient farmers to domesticate wild rice. Rice, at least, can’t run away, it can’t buck and rear up, and it can’t kill or injure you with its hooves or drag you to your death. Domesticating crops is peaceful labor, but domesticating wild horses and oxen is a battle bathed in blood and sweat. Farming people are still enjoying the fruits of the nomad people’s magnificent battles.”

  Chen sighed. “The way I see it, the most advanced people today are descendants of nomadic races. They drink milk, eat cheese and steak, weave clothing from wool, lay sod, raise dogs, fight bulls, race horses, and compete in athletics. They cherish freedom and popular elections, and they have respect for their women, all traditions and habits passed down by their nomadic ancestors. Not only did they inherit their courage, their militancy, their tenacity, and their need to forge ahead from their nomadic forebears, but they continue to improve on those characteristics. People say you can tell what a person will grow up to be at the age of three and what he’ll look like in old age at seven. The same holds true for a race of people. In the West, primitive nomadic life was their childhood, and if we look at primitive nomads now, we are given access to Westerners at three and at seven, their childhood, and if we take this further, we get a clear understanding of why they occupy a high position. Learning their progressive skills isn’t hard. China launched its own satellite, didn’t it? What’s hard to learn are the militancy and aggressiveness, the courage and willingness to take risks that flow in nomadic veins.”

  “Since I’ve been herding horses,” Zhang said, “I’ve felt the differences in temperament between the Chinese and the Mongols. Back in school I was at the top in just about everything, but out here I’m weak as a kitten. I did everything I could think of to make myself strong, and now I find that there’s something lacking in us...”

  Chen sighed again. “That’s it exactly!” he said. “China’s small-scale peasant economy cannot tolerate competitive peaceful labor. Our Confucian guiding principle is emperor to minister, father to son, a top-down philosophy, stressing seniority, unconditional obedience, eradicating competition through autocratic power, all in the name of preserving imperial authority and peaceful agriculture. In both an existential and an awareness sense, China’s small-scale peasant economy and Confucian culture have weakened the people’s nature, and even though the Chinese created a brilliant ancient civilization, it came about at the cost of the race’s character and has led to the sacrifice of our ability to develop. When world history moved beyond the rudimentary stage of agrarian civilization, China was fated to fall behind. But we’re lucky, we’ve been given the opportunity to witness the last stages of nomadic existence on the Mongolian grassland, and, who knows, we might even discover the secret that has led to the rise in prominence of Western races.”

  Out on the grassy field, as the horses fought on, with no end in sight, the lovely Princess Snow White was taken by an opportunistic stallion into its family herd. But there was no surrender in the losers, which raced over and kicked the princess to the ground. Not knowing where to turn for rescue, she lay there emitting long, sad whinnies. Her anxious mother made as if to go to her, but was sent back into the herd by the flying hooves of her almost demonic mate.

  Yang had seen enough. He nudged Zhang Jiyuan. “You’re a horse herder—why don’t you do something?”

  “Do what?” Zhang asked. “Go over there, and they’ll stop fighting. Leave, and they’re back at it. Herders play no role in the herd’s battles for survival. They’ve been doing this for centuries. If the stallions don’t drive their daughters out of the herd in the summer and fight to diversify the herds, these fights will go on forever. The most powerful stallions emerge from these summer wars, ensuring a successive generation of fast, smart, ferocious horses. The battles produce fine horses, year after year, increasing the stallions’ courage and fighting skills, and their families flourish. This is where the stallions hone their skills for fighting and killing wolves. Without these drills, the herds of Mongol horses could not survive on the grassland.”

  “It seems to me,” Chen said, “th
at the Mongol warhorses that shocked and amazed the world must have been a product of their battles with wolves.”

  “You said it,” Zhang agreed. “Wolves out here do more than just foster Mongol warriors; they also foster Mongol warhorses. Ancient China’s regimes had massive mounted armies, but their horses were, for the most part, raised and trained in ranchlike surroundings. We’ve been sent out to labor in the countryside, so we know how they raise horses in farming villages. They’re let out into a pen, where they’re watered and fed and given extra hay at night. Those horses have never seen a wolf and they’ve never engaged in horse wars. During the mating season, there’s no mortal combat, since there’s always someone around to take care of matters. They tether the female to a post, then lead a stud horse up to her. When the coupling is over, the female doesn’t even know what her mate looks like. What kind of nature and fighting spirit can a horse from this mating have?”

  Yang Ke laughed. “Whatever comes from arranged marriages is bound to be stupid! We’re lucky we didn’t come from arranged marriages, so there’s still hope for us. Arranged marriages in farming villages are still common, but what comes out of them is at least better than plow horses, and the young ladies at least know what the men look like.

  “In China we call that progress,” Chen said.

  “Horses belonging to the Chinese,” Zhang said, “are animal coolies. They work all day and sleep at night, just like the peasants. So in this regard the Chinese are laboring peasants and their horses laboring horses, which is why they’re no match for Mongol fighters and Mongol warhorses.”