Saikan leaned across to Rufinius and shouted, “I am only now told that Chanyu Zhizhi is coming to meet with us personally.”
“Is that good or not so good?” replied Rufinius.
“We will find out soon enough.”
The general motioned into the distance where a full cohort of riders clad all in white appeared, approaching at a gallop, scattering a large flock of grazing sheep. Indeed, it appeared that an army was approaching. As it drew nearer and more detail became available, well over a thousand banners were seen to be fluttering above the King’s horsemen, all of whom rode white horses.
“Behold Chanyu Zhizhi’s personal guard,” said Saikan.
*
Appias shivered in the back of the wagon as it bumped over tufts of grass that grew thicker than the rest. Feiyan was in attendance and concerned by a fever that had come only that morning to her patient. Lifting the thick pelt across his chest, she examined the fly larvae feasting on the pus that had lately returned to the wound and removed it, the scab now clean.
“What can you see?” Appias called out, his teeth chattering, straining to look through a gap in the canvas shrouding the wagon. But the only view was the usual procession of slow-moving baggage train carts and wagons following behind.
“A wide plain with many horse archers,” Lucia said, seated somewhere behind his head, holding the reins with Mena beside her. “There is also something of an encampment and too many horses, cattle, and sheep to count.”
Appias lay back again, his teeth chattering, cursing the feeling of helplessness that ruled his days and prevented him from witnessing this historic occasion of the meeting of two peoples from opposite ends of the earth.
“I don’t think we are welcome,” Lucia added. “There are plenty of bows with arrows notched also.”
As compensation, Appias watched Feiyan as she worked on him and realized that she was no longer a foreigner to his eyes. More than that, her fine features were intensely pleasing to him. Feiyan felt his eyes on her, looked at him and smiled briefly before returning to her duties, returning the animal skins around him.
Appias felt the urge to cough and grabbed some air before the attack overwhelmed him, the sound rattling in his lungs as he convulsed. The coughing spell, which lasted too long, left him drained and weak. Feiyan wiped the corner of his lips, removing a smear of mucous.
“Am I dying?” he asked.
“What did you say?” asked Lucia.
“I said, am I dying …?” he repeated, louder the second time.
After several long seconds, Lucia called out, “Mena says no. She says you’re going to outlive us all.”
Appias took a deep breath and let it out. Mena knew no more than he did about what would come to pass. How could any mortal read the future like it was history already written? It made no sense. Appias closed his eyes and tried to stop his teeth chattering. He felt movement nearby and opened his eyes to see the last of Feiyan’s clothing slip from her body. He looked at her, eyes wide. What was she doing?
Feiyan lifted the animal skin, slid beneath it and wrapped her legs and arms around his body, her chest pressed against his own. He looked down on her face lying on his good shoulder and, past the initial shock, felt the warm glow of her body gradually seep into his skin so that his shivering abated. Feiyan smelled clean and her breath was pleasing and there was nothing he could do to prevent his cock from growing, rising so that it nudged against her leg. The woman herself became aware of it. She looked up into his eyes, smiled, and moved her hips so that Appias slid inside her warmth. And the mystery concerning Han women first raised by Fabianus was, for Appias at least, resolved.
*
“Cornicen. Sound the order to halt,” Rufinius shouted. “Once standards are raised, sound and execute.”
Magnus repeated the instructions and brought the cornu to his lips. The signal was repeated down the line. Within a dozen paces, the vast caravan accompanied by the legion came to a stop. The breeze snapping at loose clothing also carried the thunder of the approaching horde to the legionaries. Those in the First Century’s front lines with a view forward glanced at each other with apprehension.
“Why stand around like ass-licking ducks in the shallows, waiting to be skewered,” Libo muttered, fingering the handgrip on his shield, the approaching cavalry bearing down on them.
“Put a cock in it,” Dentianus snapped, though he was every bit as tense, aware that false moves could start a bloodbath. “Concentrate instead on how luscious does this soft grassland feel underfoot.”
“My feet are frozen,” Carbo complained.
In the center of the white horsemen coming toward them, Rufinius spied a splash of red. It was a rider, a bull of a man with a vast bright red beard wearing a long red coat over a tunic of padded red silk. The man rode atop a jet-black stallion that towered above all others. Chanyu Zhizhi.
“The red dragon on a field of white,” Rufinius observed to himself.
The royal Xiongnu contingent slowed to a canter and then a trot as it closed the distance. Finally, the white horsemen stopped and the red Dragon King rode slowly forward. Saikan walked his horse out to meet with him. When close enough to speak, the general dismounted and lay face down on a patch of snow in supplication. The breeze was such that their words were carried to Rufinius.
“Guli Saikan of the Left,” Zhizhi boomed. “You have your Chanyu’s permission to rise and speak. Tell me of this army you have bought in my name and with my wealth.”
“Great Chanyu, these are soldiers, legionaries, from the conquering Empire of the Romans, who hold sway over much of the world where the sun sets. They are fearsome in hand-to-hand combat and rely on their swords. They are also builders and engineers who erect fortifications in rapid time.”
“What use have I of an army that does not ride on the horse’s back? They would be slow and cumbersome.”
“On the plains certainly this is true, great and wise Chanyu, where Xiongnu horsemen reign supreme. But there is also much terrain which does not suit the horse and it is there that the Roman legionaries are unsurpassed.”
“They are slaves?”
“Yes, great Chanyu.”
“How do you know they will not kill you when you sleep and so be free of their master?”
“I have traveled with them for three seasons and there was opportunity enough to slay me, but I yet live. In your name, great Chanyu, I have also bought their loyalty with the promise of freedom after fifteen years of service, as well as land, a small portion of what their sword arms will conquer for your glory.”
“You promise too much.” Zhizhi sat back in the saddle and pondered the countless row upon row of gleaming plumed helmets, red saga, and shields adorned with steel scales that flashed in the sun. “I see they carry arms marching on my lands and the lands of my vassals.”
“Yes, Chanyu. The weapons are for ceremonial purposes.”
“What if your slaves decided on a different purpose?”
“I know their mettle and they have no ill intentions toward the Xiongnu nation or its people. Rather, they desire to be commanded by you to win glory for your name and kill your enemies.”
Zhizhi grunted, seemingly unimpressed. “Word has reached my ears that you collected much Han silk and other treasures on your long journey.”
“Yes, great and wise Chanyu.” Saikan bowed again.
Zhizhi continued to regard the Roman centuries. “Does this slave army have a leader?”
“It does, great Chanyu.”
“Tonight you will present him to me in the great hall, along with the treasures that may cost me and the Xiongnu their homes and empire. Favored guli or not, I will then decide whether to have you quartered and your head spiked.” Zhizhi, scowling, turned his horse violently away and galloped back through the ranks of his guard, which parted before him.
*
For several hours, the legion marched across the plain through flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, as well as countl
ess warrior horsemen practicing their warcraft with bow and arrow and lance. Eventually they passed villages – collections of small numbers of round huts made from animal skins that could be easily packed away and moved on carts, the spaces between them occupied by pigs and goats tendered by women and children.
And then the city of Talas itself came into view, visible from some distance, not because of its magnificence but because it sprawled carelessly across the plain. On its western side were massive stables, enclosures, and races for thousands of animals that no doubt made up the Chanyu’s herds.
Here, many trails across the plain converged into a main roadway of beaten earth that snaked across the plain toward the city. Beside the road were the remains, in various stages of decay, of more than a dozen men, their bearded heads on spikes, their crimes unrecorded, the Xiongnu being averse to writing.
As the legion marched closer still and more detail revealed itself, the Xiongnu city was unlike any Roman one the men were familiar with, being almost devoid of permanent buildings and with no baths, colosseums, paved roads, government buildings, or temples built to the gods in sight. It seemed just a grander version of the smaller outlying villages, with large numbers of circular huts clustered around a single central construction that towered over all. This building was enormous in size, round in shape like the domiciles, and crowned by scores of the Chanyu’s white and red banners, so that, from a distance it seemed a flock of birds was lifting from its heights.
Soon thousands of Xiongnu streamed from the city, drawn by the spectacle of the legion as it marched, directed by the escort to flat grassland beyond the city. This area was bordered by a small tributary that fed into a much larger river. Once arrived, words were again exchanged between Saikan and the escort’s commander.
The general turned to Rufinius and informed him: “Your camp is to be made here. The water is clean and I am assured your men will find many fish. I will have my vassals see to supplies of meat for the men and also grain and firewood. You cannot raise earthworks or walls or defenses of any kind, for Chanyu Zhizhi will consider this an offensive act and send archers against you.”
Rufinius didn’t like the thought of the legion unprotected by earthworks, but knew there were no options.
“I would further counsel your men to desist from drilling with sword or javelin. They are to appear as defenseless as lambs.”
Rufinius was about to resist when Saikan held up his hand and said, “My people have never seen an army such as yours and many will come to gawp and point. Men are afraid of what they don’t know. It would be wise for trust to be built quickly between Xiongnu and Roman. Be aware that there can be no accidents.”
Saikan had barely finished this advice when both men were led away as captives might be, accompanied by the escort.
XXXIX
Magnus sat on the ground, polished his cornu, and listened to the legionaries’ banter.
“What is it with these barbarians?” Libo wondered, as he organized his possessions against the side of the tent, making sure to keep his gladius close at hand. “Are we exotic animals to be gaped at?” He was referring specifically to a Xiongnu warrior with his wife and child upon a horse stopped nearby. All three of them were pointing and laughing at him.
“We’re the barbarians here, fool,” said Dentianus. “This is their land. Look at the way they dress and then look at us – our polished helmets and our red sagae. I guarantee you everyone you see riding around here has no notion that Rome even exists.”
“Your breath smells of shit, Dentianus,” interrupted Carbo, stirring the pot in which an aromatic stew simmered. “Every cunnus on Jupiter’s earth knows about Rome. We own the fucking world, don’t we? This little patch of turf here is a sideshow, as are these horse fuckers.”
“Think about it for a minute, if you’re capable,” Dentianus said. “We – this legion. We are the first Romans ever – and I mean ever – to see what we’re seeing.”
“What’s to get so excited about? Personally, right now I’d rather be seeing the inside of my favorite brothel back in Antioch.”
“I have no idea which one he’s talking about, but I’d prefer to be there too,” seconded Libo. “Even though, knowing my cheap little comrade as I do, it’s sure to be the nastiest flea-ridden fuck parlor to be found anywhere.” Libo sniffed the air. “That glorious smell. What is it? It has nothing to do with beans.”
“Horse meat,” said Carbo. Libo wandered over and stuck his finger in it for a taste. Carbo reached for his sword. “Do that again and you’ll lose it.”
“Where’d it come from?” Libo asked, ignoring the playful threat.
Dentianus also drew nearer to the pot. “Supplied by our hosts.”
Magnus spoke up. “The Xiongnu believe it to be an affront to their god that inhabits the Eternal Blue Sky not to feed guests who arrive at the front door.”
“Who told you that nonsense?” guffawed Carbo.
“Appias.”
Libo shrugged. No one argued with Appias when it came to useless information.
“Anyone seen Rufinius?” asked Carbo. “Do we save him some horse stew?”
“I saw him leave with General Saikan,” said Magnus. “They were riding toward the big round building.”
*
A squadron of horse archers dressed in white, the Chanyu’s personal guard, accompanied Rufinius and General Saikan. The mounted party rode past legionary masons already chipping away at stones procured for cenotaphs to be erected for the Romans killed on the march. The legionaries stood and saluted Rufinius who returned it and then the party turned away and merged with a procession of around twenty wagons, selected from among the multitude captured from the Han and also those bought from the Parthians, heading for Chanyu Zhizhi’s palace.
Two of the wagons were particularly familiar to Rufinius as they carried distinctive painted images on their sides and back, one wagon featuring the Red Whore and the other carrying depictions of the Black Whore’s expertise. Rufinius allowed himself a private smile knowing that, had he not acted, the wagon carting his wife would most certainly be among them.
The procession snaked along between rows of inquisitive men, women, children, and their dogs, and the circular animal-skin dwellings that housed them, the walls partially dug into the earth to keep them anchored in the face of strong winds. Everywhere cooking fires burned, flames dancing in the breeze. The air was thick with smoke and the smells of roasting meat and the acrid stench of feces – both human and horse – rising from a multitude of open slit trenches.
The procession passed through the merchant sector of the city where tented shopfronts sold a multitude of goods – pottery and animal pelts and beer, brass and copperware – to milling crowds.
They also passed an open square where a small crowd had gathered. A piteous scream suddenly ripped through the air and Rufinius caught a glimpse of the crowd’s point of interest: a man who was strung between four straining horses had just had his arms torn from his body. A man came forward with an axe and separated the head clean from the remains of a shoulder.
“Horse thief,” Saikan explained.
Rufinius’s own spine tingled at the thought of such a punishment. “That is quartering?”
Saikan nodded, his face passive. “There is no requirement to lie prostrate on the ground in the presence of the Chanyu, for, in the great hall, men are equal. But do not speak unless spoken to.”
Rufinius nodded.
“Will I translate for you?” the general continued.
“If the General has no objection, I will not hide behind ignorance.”
The long line of wagons eventually turned into an open square in front of the grand circular building – the Chanyu’s palace – and drew up beside each other. Parties of men dressed in white silk overcoats and silk pants, the first men Rufinius had seen in Xiongnu who did not seem to be warriors, spilled from the building. They descended on the wagons and began ferrying bolts of silk, urns and chests containi
ng multitudes of spices, as well as glassware, fine pottery, chests bulging with giant pearls and deep orange carmelians, gold and silver bars, fiery opals, and more into the building. The Red Whore was taken from her wagon, as was the Black Whore, the Xiongnu treating them regally, while others pointed at the illustrations on the painted wagons and laughed boisterously at their Chanyu’s good fortune.
The escort accompanying Rufinius disarmed him of his gladius and pugio while other Xiongnu stood close by with belligerent intent as if waiting for him to protest. Rufinius merely removed his helmet, tucked it under his left arm, and rearranged the clean white focale around his neck. He allowed himself to be directed into the building with General Saikan. Ahead of him walked Koulm, the Red Whore, dressed in a flowing silk gown dyed red as blood, and Jaha, the Black Whore. It was the first time Rufinius had laid eyes on her. She was tall and elegant, a creature of great physical beauty from the lands south of Egypt. She was adorned in a long white pleated linen dress pulled tight with a cord of gold to better show off her narrow waist. Cradled in her arms was a large ebony phallus.
As Rufinius neared the building he was aware of a crowd of revelers within, rowdy noise spilling through the structure’s wooden walls clad with felt to keep the heat in and the cold out. Along with the sounds of men feasting came the smells of heated male sweat, sour wine and roasting meats. Inside it was darker than outside, the vast open space needing more candlelight to chase away the shadows. When they entered, a great roar of delight welcomed the arrival of the captured women.
As Rufinius’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw many tables occupied by Xiongnu horse archers in their familiar garb. Huge pits of flaming coals roasted whole pigs, sheep, and calves. Musicians on a raised platform played instruments that appeared, to Rufinius’s eyes, to be large soup ladles strung with fine bowstrings, the squawking notes produced by them mostly drowned out by the shouts of men. Around the periphery of the hall were the banners of attending tribes, displaying a multitude of colors, patterns, and symbols.
Field of Mars (The Complete Novel) Page 36