by Barry Sadler
That night they feasted long on meat and fermented mares' milk, gloating in the thought of the riches and slaughter that the morrow would bring. Before the red glow of the coming sun brought the false dawn, the army of Tzin was on the march in the cool of the predawn. They moved to the edge of the valley where the ten thousand waited with their Trojan Horse, behind a small rise. They were not able to be seen from the entrance from which the barbarians must come but still, strong pickets were set.
Casca's chariots were behind the first rank of cavalry, their reinsmen and archers curled up in their cloaks to catch a few more minutes of sleep. They knew the day would be long. In the camp of the Hsuing-nu the warriors massed under their standards while the shamans and chiefs made sacrifice to the sun. The shamans wailed and chanted, waiting for the moment when the sun would first show itself over the edge of the world, glowing red.
The shamans watched carefully, their victims bound between two horses, the cool of day sending shivers over them, long curved knives held expectantly and then...the sun! With a wail, they sliced open the stomachs of their victims, the stretching between the horses aiding in forcing the intestines out to the ground where they lay in slimy steaming mass of convoluted tissue. Quickly the shamans searched through them for any sign of an ill omen and finding none, they whipped the flanks of the horses and the bodies of the victims were torn in two. The horses raced around the camp, the torn cadavers bouncing behind. They cried out, "We ride! The horde rides!"
By the thousands they spilled like a flood into the entrance of the valley, whipping their beasts with the flat of their blades, racing low in the saddle and leaning over, they swept the first rank of the defenders under their hooves screaming with pleasure. Several halted long enough to take heads and hang them from their saddles before racing on.
In the valley center, the defenders were ready behind boulders and rocks. They waited. The crossbow men and infantry and cavalry formed one unit stretching across the valley and waited. They were not to attack, but to hold only so long as they could and then withdraw and break away, drawing the barbarians after them; at this moment, the main force of Tzin would enter the battle and the Hsuing-nu would be crushed. The only fly in the ointment was that the army of Kushan had not made its appearance. The Yueh-chih were delayed by rock-slides and floods to the south of the Suget Pass and would not be here this day. So be it, the die was cast, they were seventy thousand to the barbarians' hundred thousand; close enough so that a surprise on their side should be more than enough.
The first wave of barbarians struck the main force of the treasure party, slicing deep into the ranks. They cut and slashed their way in, trying to reach the tents behind, which they knew held the gold their masters craved. Like demons they fought, each in his own world of blood. A thousand broke through to the rear and were cut down by the bolts from the hidden archers and crossbows. A hundred managed to fight their way back through the broken ranks of the soldiers of Tzin and rejoin their tribes. A blaring bugle call which signaled the ten thousand to begin their withdrawal fighting against the ever increasing numbers of savages who crowded in on them. A solid wall of screaming mindless killers, they withdrew; the pressure of the barbarians made it difficult to break away with any semblance of order.
Another bugle blast and it was each man for himself. The soldiers of Tzin broke and raced back into the valley, riding for their lives. The dogs of the steppes raced after them. Four thousand never made it and the survivors of the king rode for their lives.
The bugles also signaled the main army to advance. Sung Ti had not had much time to spend with Casca. As his aide-de-camp, he had much to prepare for and even now the last of the chains that had so carefully been forged in tile furnaces of Chung Wei were being attached to the ring bolts of the chariots, a rope of iron stretched between them, the chariots were ready. Horses neighed and whinnied, the smell of blood coming to them on the morning breeze. Their eyes rolled in fear and uncertainty. Their masters' words and hands tried to soothe them.
The army stepped forth over the small rise. The land fell away from them. They would be attacking downhill. The division commanders waited and then the second bugle blast sounded, showing that the defenders were breaking ranks. They raised swords, cried, "Death to the barbarians! Long live the son of Heaven!" and sixty thousand men and animals moved forward.
Casca positioned himself where he could watch not only his charioteers but the young king as well. The boy was eager and might get into trouble. The advancing forces of Tzin met those of the Hsuing-nu and for a moment hung suspended in the terrible confrontation. They were locked in a grip none could escape; eight thousand men of Tzin died in less than minutes, but not before taking an equal amount of barbarians with them. The shock of meeting Tzin's reinforcements gave pause to the tribesmen. They halted, breathing deeply, the sides of their horses heaving.
A long low growling rose from them and in a spontaneous burst of hatred, they charged; horses shoulder to shoulder, a thousand across and behind packed deep with their brethren urging them on, trying to find their way into the front ranks, screaming and crying for blood.
The time came for the chariots to be used and the reinsmen lined their war wagons up, the chains connecting each to the other in pairs. They looked to their leader. Casca drew his short sword and with sweep pointed it to the battle. Three hundred chariots surged forth, slowly at first and then gaining speed they crashed into the living wall of tribesmen, the chains tearing the feet out from under the tribesmen's horses. By the hundreds, the animals fell to the sandy valley floor with broken legs, spilling their riders to the ground, where they were trampled under the hooves of their brothers or crushed under the wheels of the chariots. Over half of the three hundred chariots were swamped under the deluge of screaming tribesmen, but not before they had thrown the army of barbarians into a confused milling mass.
The orderly ranks of the imperial cavalry and infantry poured down on the confused tribesmen, slicing and striking, they performed great slaughter. Disciplined and efficient, they went about their soldiers work.
The barbarians were beaten. The chariots had done their job. Now it was up to them to finish off as many as they could. From the corner of his eye, Casca saw the King slice the head off a chieftain and race into the battle followed by his personal household guard. He plunged into the milling knot of tribesmen, showing a total lack of concern for his own safety.
"Oh, shit. That little bastard's going to get himself in trouble," thought Casca. Turning over command of the remaining chariots to Sung Ti, he permitted him to join the battle, whipping Glam's shaggy carcass, fighting his way to the spot where the king had disappeared into the whirling mass of men, beasts and dust. Striking left and right, Casca laid about him whacking the hand off a tribesman who grabbed his reins and broke the neck of another with a well-placed kick in the face. The king was down. His horse had its legs cut out from under it and lay screaming like a woman in that shrill manner only horses dying have. The surviving guards placed themselves in a circle around their imperial master ready to die rather than leave him; had their master died, they would live in disgrace and shame forever.
Driving his sword through the eye of a wild-faced barbarian, Casca broke through to the king. Glam rose on his hind legs and struck out with his sharp hooves, crushing the brain case of a wiry tribesman like an eggshell. The king's guard commander grabbed the imperial person and ignoring his lord's protests, threw him to Casca, who laid him across his saddle, holding him like a sack of grain. The commander cried out for Casca to save the king and Casca saw him go down as the last of the guard was overwhelmed and a tribesman severed the commander's spinal cord with a well-placed axe blow that broke him in two at the back.
Whirling Glam around, Casca fought his way back, ignoring Tzin's threats to have him made into an eunuch if he didn't let him down immediately. Slapping the youngster on the ass, Casca screamed above the din, "Keep still, my Lord, or you won't be able to give that command.
"
When they reached the rear of the battle, Casca deposited the young king unceremoniously at the feet of his generals. On the battlefield, the tribesmen began to waver, their confidence broken. Instead of the easy victory they had anticipated, they found an avenging army of disciplined, well trained troops and those damned chariots, that knocked the horses off their feet.
The bugles blared once more and the reserves were sent in. The influx of fresh troops was too much and the Hsuing-nu broke, fleeing in panic, back the way they had come, trampling any too slow to get out of their way under their hooves. They ran while the soldiers of the empire pursued and cut down all stragglers and wounded where they were found. No prisoners were taken as the Hsuing-nu made poor slaves and only a few were ever kept at any one time, mainly for stable duties.
Longi was found pinned under his horse and spat in the face of the young Tzin warrior who slit his throat.
If the forces of Kushan had been present, the Hsuing-nu would have been eliminated once and for all, but as it was, thirty thousand made their way back into the marshes and swamps. They would come again; someday they would ride out on the steppes again and wage war on the Chin, but for now, the young king had his victory.
In the battle, Casca had admired the technique of Sung Ti and his flashing blade, the use he made of long sweeping slashing strokes that changed in midair from a strike to the head, to a sideswipe that laid a barbarian's gut open. His stance and posture as he performed his martial ritual reminded Casca of Shiu Lao Tze, who had taught him the way of the open hand fighting so long ago. Yes, there was a definite resemblance. Sung Ti had created a new style, probably too difficult to teach the ordinary soldier, but who knows thought Casca, one day it might catch on.
After Casca's rescue of his royal person, the Emperor Tzin insisted he leave his mountain domain and take personal command of the Imperial Guard. At Casca's suggestion, Sung Ti took his place as lord of Chung Wei. As a parting gesture, he also made a gift of Mei Cho to his comrade in arms. He had not failed to notice the looks that went between them and how she lowered her eyes as a flush would creep up to her face, when Sung Ti came around. The rude manner in which Mei Cho often treated Sung convinced Casca she had the hots for this dashing young warrior. Casca was never one to stand in the way of love and besides, he reasoned, she was a nice girl and deserved a chance at a normal life – something he would certainly never be able to give any woman.
Sung Ti had been overcome at his friend's generosity and once Mei Cho's new position was made clear to her, he quickly put her in her place with a few sharp commands that had her crawling on her belly before him, completely submissive and content. The big nose had been kind to her but never really understood that to a woman like her, the only true pleasure she could have would be from a man who mastered her completely. The new Lord of Chung Wei was of her people and understood the proper manner of gaining her love.
Casca left the two, well pleased with their fortune and rode to the royal city where he donned the colors of the Imperial Guard – black and gold silk robes set about with a red sash. The next nine years flew by rapidly and several times he and the emperor ventured forth to do battle against the tribes beyond the wall. As the young king grew older and wiser in the ways of war, he became ever more attached to his foreign lord and servant. Twice more the Roman saved his ass when in his eagerness, Tzin put his own life in jeopardy. They worked well together and often shared moments in the gardens where Tzin would try to give Casca some of the feelings of the people of Chin and their love of art and beauty. No people on the face of the earth were so completely devoted to beauty in all its forms, from the lowest peasant to the highest lord all tried to acquire what little share of beauty they could.
The most beautiful of all the possessions of Tzin was the lady Li Tsao, who grew more lovely with each year, growing into a full woman, confident in her mind and body. She controlled the emperor and was his first consort to the neglect of all others. She was his only constant companion and advisor. True, he, occasionally as men will, took off with Casca for couple of nights of hell raising with the fine and talented courtesans of his empire, but always he returned to Li Tsao. His only sadness was her failure to bear him a son. Casca kept his distance from her. There was always the feeling in the back of his mind that she was dangerous in the way only the female of any species can be and noted she watched him as the years went by. Several times when they met she would look closely at his face, a slight look of consternation behind her almond eyes as if troubled by something she saw and couldn't put her finger on.
The Hsiung-nu gave them no more trouble, but the other tribes were growing in strength and constantly trying their luck at raping the soft lands behind the wall, only to be met with steel instead of silk. Tzin knew well the value of his army and they served him well. If only he could unite the eastern empire under his cousins he might be able to provide the final solution for the security of Han. But this was not to be. His cousin insisted on hiring tribesmen from the Hsien-pi in lieu of his own people. Like the Romans in their use of the barbarians of Germany and the Gothic kingdoms, they bred the seeds of their own destruction.
Sung sent word that he and the woman Mei Cho had a son and if it would please him, they would like to name the child after Casca, though the pronunciation would be slightly different in their language. Casca was present before the priests and family when the child was raised over his father's head and it was announced that from that day on he would be known as Ch'saca Sung Ti. Casca assumed the role of godfather to the child by presenting the offerings of incense and rice to the gods and ancestors of Sung Ti and taking the small blade which Sung had given him, he laid it on the child's naked body. Sung cried out joyfully when the child's fat fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt and held it firmly in his baby's grasp.
"A good sign, Lord Casca. He will be a great warrior and joy to his family."
Mei Cho had blossomed in her delivery of a man child and her figure and face had filled out to a ripeness that gave her a glow, she knelt before the man who had been her master and touched her head to his boot.
"Thank you, Big Nose," she whispered in words only he could hear, "thank you. My life is full."
After his return to Ch'ang-an, he kept himself busy with the training of the guard, but time was against him. Tzin knew his secret, that time would soon be on him and he must leave. His commanders and men grew old and retired to farms and estates to raise families but the silver in their beards never came to Casca.
Li Tsao watched.
In the garden where the two rocks had been tied so long ago by the ancient poet, she found him sitting on the same bench where he had first met the emperor. Gliding over the stone pathway, the beams of the moon shone through the petals of the blossoming fruit trees and flowers. Sitting beside him she looked closely at his face.
"What is your secret, ugly one?"
The question shocked him for a moment. He tried to collect his thoughts and then stammering said: "I have no secret. I am just a common soldier, content to serve our master."
Li Tsao waved a graceful hand. "No lies, Barbarian. I am a woman grown and even in my hair I have found silver traces of time, but you are the same as when we met on the Silk Road. There is no change in you. Not any. You are the same in body and appearance as you were then. Why do you not age? Tell me – and there is nothing in this land that cannot be yours."
She moved closer to him, her face only inches from him, the smell of her perfume sweeping over him. Her words like a silk sword, she again repeated, "There is nothing in this land which may not be yours-gold, slaves, power..." She ran her lacquered nails along the thin scar of his face "even myself. I could show you pleasures you have not dreamed of. I can be all things to you and teach you the sensations of pleasure only a few in this world have ever experienced. Tell me, what is your secret. A potion, a magic ritual that keeps you young? This I must know. Is it bathing in the blood of young virgins? I have tried that myself b
ut it has failed. Tell me and we shall share all that is here forever. I can make you King."
Firmly, Casca took her small hand in his own and began to squeeze gently at first and then increasing pressure until a gasp of pain broke from her perfect lips. For the first time, Casca knew the reality of what she was and the cruelty that lay behind the smiles and graceful manner. Her beauty and youth were all that were important to her. All else was expendable, including Tzin.
Barely able to control his anger, his throat tightened. "Get away from me, bitch. There is nothing I can give or tell you. Keep away from me."
Releasing her hand, the new flow of blood to her fingers made her tingle as the pressure of his scarred hand released hers. Rising he walked away, turning back to look at her sitting quietly in the moonlight.
Li Tsao smiled sweetly, "You shouldn't have done that, ugly one." She rose and then disappeared into the shadows of the garden.
The next few weeks, Casca kept a wary eye on the king's consort, shocked at the depths of cruelty that lay beneath that delicate exterior. Not since Salome had he known a woman as evil as this. Whenever they met, she would smile and be graceful, her manners and words always polite, always correct without a hint of the hate that lay beneath her bosom. No one had ever refused her. She vowed the ugly barbarian would know what it meant to deny her that which she desired above all else – eternal youth and beauty.
The business of the empire went on: In the fall Tzin left Ch'ang An to visit some of the southern provinces. It was good policy and occasionally he showed himself to the people and passed judgments in person. While he was gone, his lady sat in his stead, governed the city and several times gave formal parties and banquets.
Always Casca refused to attend, pleading pressing matters of the army requiring him to be elsewhere. But one invitation came which he could not refuse. Sung Ti, Mei Cho and their son were ordered to the capital. Li Tsao had received permission from the emperor to confirm the House of Sung-Ti in their position as lords of Chung Wei and that the line from this time henceforth would be hereditary to be passed on to the young boy Ch'asca, the barbarian's godson. For this occasion, Casca had to attend and witness the confirmation of hereditary nobility.