One Night in Xanadu

"Unseemly," Jiang Shunfu hissed, making no pretense that his words were not meant to be heard and my sword hand itched to hew his ugly head from his scrawny shoulders.

And so the days and the weeks had passed, riding, always riding, east towards this fabled Xanadu of the Khagan's. Now I was here at last. Seated on my great black stallion, gazing at the stone walls of this Xanadu. The sun was low in the sky, a great red ball of fire sinking towards the distant horizon and those walls of stone now loomed before my eyes, my long journey nigh over and once through those gates, I would be fortunate ever to leave.

My heart quailed, my anger at my fate grew, and before me, his gelding blocking my path, Jiang Shunfu was insistent. No doubt he felt that here, at the very gates of Xanadu, about to enter the city of the Khagan, the man to whom my brother had given me as a gift, whose concubine I was destined to be, he could force his will on me where he could not do so on the endless steppe.

"Dismount and seat yourself in your palanquin, woman." He raised his voice as none but my father had ever dared raise their voice to me. "Or I will have you punished."

He smiled and that smile was that same smile worn by a thousand such Han emissaries as they worked their sly tricks on my people. As they worked their "diplomacy," playing one tribe, one clan against the other. As this Jiang Shunfu had played my brother for a fool. Or perhaps not.

Perhaps he was aware of the danger I represented, but if he was, then more fool him for threatening me here and now where I sat Aranjagaan still with spear in my hand, sword at my waist, bow in its bow case slung from my saddle, for no man other than my father or my husband would punish me, and the cold anger rose within me for there would be no husband now.

A gift, that was all I was.

A gift, I was destined to be a mere concubine. That was what I was and this Jiang Shunfu, if I could not have my brother's head, I could have his.

My Mongol escort sat their horses impassively, their commander, the Captain of Five Hundred, saying not a word, sitting unblinking as his eyes met mine and there was no clue there as to his thoughts for he wore the cold face and perhaps that was a clue in itself. Perhaps. Dare I? I looked at Jiang Shunfu, considering him, and then I spat on the ground at the feet of his horse.

A horse? A gelding. A horse for a slave-woman, or a man who was a woman.

A sham of a horse for a sham of a man such as this Jiang Shunfu was.

"I am the daughter of the Chanyu of the Xiongnu. I am to be concubine to the Khagan. I am not to be commanded by some effete Han whose hands have never held a sword or a spear or drawn a bow."

"Woman, you are about to enter Xanadu. You will do as you are commanded, or it will be the worse for you."

I shrugged. The Captain of Five Hundred watched, unblinking, waiting, but I knew these Mongols. In the past my people had fought them and often we had defeated them, as at times they had defeated us in the raids and warfare of the steppe tribes. Now we were ruled by them, but this Captain, he and I we knew each other, as we both knew the Han, and I was no Han. I was no servant to be commanded by this woman in men's clothing. This rider of a gelded horse that a child of the Xiongnu would be ashamed to be seen on.

My name was Altani.

I was a princess of the Hu, the Hunnu, the Xiongnu. A princess of warriors, trained in the ways of war. Trained to kill men, and my hand itched to wield my spear even as horsemen rode up from behind us, a hunting party, parting the merchants and the tradespeople and the laborers on the road before them as if they were water.

"Wait, Princess." The Captain of Five Hundred did not move, but he knew me as I knew him and in that moment I knew he would not have objected but for this interruption. His voice was flat and this fool of a Han had no idea how close to death he was.

"What is this?" The voice at my back was harsh.

A voice such as my father, the Chanyu Attila, had once had before the sickness took him. Harsh. Commanding. A voice to be listened to and obeyed instantly. Before me, the Captain of Five Hundred and all his men instantly bowed low over the necks of their horses whilst the bearers of that thrice-cursed palanquin flung themselves on their faces, heedless of the snow and the ice and the mud.

Before my eyes, this Han woman who thought he was a man half fell from his gelding to prostrate himself in the snow and mud beside the road of stone leading towards those great gates. I did not take my eyes from the Han but my hand moved to grip my spear the better to drive it through the Han and the blood-rage filled me as I looked down on him considering where best to pin him through as I would have pinned the misshapen frog he resembled.

"Who are you, woman, who considers the death of my servant so eagerly?" that harsh voice said, curious now. Forcing the blood-rage back, I turned my head. I looked.

"Bow to the Khagan, Princess," the Captain of Five Hundred hissed, his face next to his horse's mane.

"I am Altani, Princess of the Xiongnu and sent by my brother, the Chanyu, as a gift and as a concubine to the Khagan," I said. Only then did I bow my head, to the same degree as the Captain of Five Hundred and his men. "And this woman in men's clothing on the ground before us has insulted me."

Around us, nobody moved. Nobody. It was as if the very air had turned to ice.

"If your brother is now the Chanyu, your father, the Chanyu Attila must now be dead, Princess Altani," the Khagan said. "And that is news to me, but first, Chingay, we will discuss this insult." The Captain of Five Hundred. Chingay. In all those weeks and months of travel, he had never revealed to me his name, and out of his armies, his men in the hundreds of thousands, the Khagan knew his name. "We will also discuss why a Princess of the Xiongnu who is sister to the Chanyu, and a daughter of the Chanyu Attila, is sent only as a concubine and a gift."

"Lord." The Captain of Five Hundred sat upright and while the Khagan's attention was on him, I ran my eyes over this Khagan, this feared ruler of the steppe peoples and of the Han, and, too, ruler of my own people, seated on his horse.

This man, he was my destiny whether I chose or not. My fate, my life, my future was in his hands, and I eyed him with, yes, both curiosity and fear, for it was wise for all men and women to fear the Khagan; and my brother the fool had gifted me to this man. This ruler of all.

"Who is this?" the Khagan said, eyeing Jiang Shunfu, prostrate in the snow and icy mud.

"One of your bureaucrats, Lord," Chingay said, and he spoke as a warrior of the Xiongnu would have spoken to my father. Forthrightly, but with respect.

I knew now what manner of man this ruler of these Mongols was. What manner of man this Khagan was. A man such as my father had been before he had sickened. A man such as this, a ruler such as this, there was no dishonor in this for me as a concubine, but even for him I would not swallow my pride, for I was Xiongnu, and honor and pride were everything. Without honor, without pride, I was nothing. Less than nothing.

"A servant who was sent to deal with the Xiongnu in the past. We were detailed to escort a bride to the Chanyu, as has been the custom of these Han. The Council in their wisdom decided to continue the custom. A woman was sent. When we arrived, the old Chanyu was dead and a new one had been acclaimed. The women was given to him, for the decision said nothing of which Chanyu and it was of no great importance."

"Ah. Yes. I recall the decision. And this one?" The Khagan glanced at me, but my face was the cold face, the stone face, giving away nothing.

"Her brother, the new Chanyu, sent her to you, Lord." Chingay allowed a chuckle to escape. "Her brother feared her. He is a fool, Lord, but not that much of a fool for she would have made a better Chanyu than he by far. He offered her as a gift to you to rid himself of her and insult her."

My eyes regarded the Captain of Five Hundred in a new light. He played no second fiddle to Jiang Shunfu, this Chingay.

"Is that so?" the Khagan said, eying me now, and I looked back, my eyes meeting his, giving him the cold face, for I was Xiongnu and no whimpering Han lapdog, and this Chingay, this Captain of Five Hundred, he was correct. My brother was a fool, but not enough of a fool to allow me to remain with our people if he wished to continue to draw breath.

Now I smiled and I spoke, unbidden but with respect. "He would not have lasted the winter, Lord, and there would then have been a Chanyu who required no Han princess for her amusement."

"Still, you are here, Altani, Princess of the Xiongnu, and your brother's gift is acceptable in my eyes." The Khagan was amused.

"The Han?" Chingay asked, his voice flat, his face the cold face as I glanced at him, and I did not smile, but I knew the Han, this Jiang Shunfu, he had no friend in Chingay and my heart warmed.

"An insult to a concubine of the Khagan is as an insult to the Khagan himself," the Khagan said at last, and his face was the stone face, the cold face, as was mine. "Princess Altani of the Xiongnu, you may do with my servant as you believe an insult to the Khagan deserves."

His look was a challenge. His words were a challenge, and his guards watched imperturbably, alert for any threat to the Khagan.

Now I smiled, and that smile was colder than a Siberian winter. I smiled and I leaned forward. "On your feet and run, little Han woman. Run for your life."

Jiang Shunfu's voice pleaded from the snow and mud, begging as not even a slave of the Xiongnu would beg. "Mercy, Lord. I am your servant."

"I have many servants," the Khagan said. "None of whom offer insult to my women. Obey the Princess Altani."

Jiang Shunfu sobbed as a woman of the Han sobs. Sobbing, he pushed himself up onto trembling legs, and the scent of his urine filled my nostrils. He looked at me. He looked and he saw his death in my eyes, and he turned, and he ran. He ran from death as no warrior runs. A warrior embraces death, welcomes death, calls death to him. Not a man, woman or child of the Xiongnu, nor of the Mongols, nor any of the people of the steppe, not even the Tatars, would have run from certain death as this Jiang Shunfu ran.

He ran as a coward runs where if he had stood his ground, as any Xiongnu or Mongol would have stood, as even a Tatar would have stood, wearing the cold face while waiting on certain death, I would not have killed him. I would have ordered him banished him from this city, banished him from my presence, forever, but I would not have killed him.

My eyes followed him with scorn as he ran towards the Gates of Xanadu, and my eyes were not the only ones that held scorn. I watched him, my face the cold face once more. All watched him as he ran, all but the Khagan and his bodyguards, who watched me as I waited, waited.

As Jiang Shunfu neared the gates, those great wooden gates set within that great tower of grey stone, I uncased my bow of layered horn and sinew and birchwood, made with my own hands, sat the foot on my boot where it sat in my stirrup and strung it in one easy movement, plucked an arrow from my quiver, raised my arms, nocked the arrow to the bowstring, pulled and released without thought, and I had chosen that arrow with malice aforethought.

An arrow for small game, a whistling arrow such as one that was used on rabbits or hares, and that shaft warbled as it flew, warbled and shrieked and sang of death, and Jiang Shunfu froze as a rabbit freezes, and the Mongols read my message in that arrow more clearly than any words. The Han was a rabbit, not worthy of respect, and the Khagan's guards regarded me with something that might have been approval as I drew the next arrow, a war-arrow, a man-killer, nocking it to my bowstring, pulling, releasing.

Again. Again. One arrow followed another until four were in the air. One white and three blackbirds snapped through the sky, seeking that which I had aimed for. Jiang Shunfu took one faltering step and plunged face down to the ground, one white and three black shafts buried in his back, and I knew without examining him that all four shafts had transfixed him. Silence surrounded me as I unstrung my bow with the casual ease of long practice, slid it back into its case.

"Long have I desired to kill that woman in man's clothing." I spoke without looking at the Khagan. And now I turned my face to him. Now I bowed as even a woman of the Xiongnu bows her head low in respect to her husband or her father. "I thank my Lord the Khagan for permission to repay his insults. So I would I repay any who insulted the Great Khan of all the people of the steppes before my eyes and ears."

"The Great Khan of the Xiongnu?" the Khagan asked, and his face was the cold face. Around us, his guard and my escorts remained alert for my sword was at my belt and my spear was once more in my hand. I was within easy reach of the Khagan, and I had proved myself able to kill.

"Am I, the daughter and sister of the Chanyu of the Xiongnu, not here as a gift, Lord," I said, and now my face was not the cold face. My cheeks were pink, my lips were red and my words were not words of flattery or simulated happiness.

"I, the daughter of the old Chanyu, Attila, and sister of the new Chanyu of the Xiongnu, I have been sent to you to serve you as you please. You are the Great Khan of the Xiongnu, Lord, for if you were not, I would not have been sent as a gift. Instead we would be meeting in battle as our people met in the past, or you would be raiding the camps of my people, as we raided each other's camps in the past."

"Though my grandmother, whose name was Gan, was a woman of the Khorulas," I added. "Taken by my grandfather in a raid." And now I smiled.

Around me, his guards' hands gripped the hilts of their swords, the shafts of their spears, the grips of their bows. One word from the Khagan and my body would join Jiang Shunfu's on the stone road, but I had my pride and my honor and my eyes met the Khagan's, and I sat Aranjagaan upright and unyielding. I sat without fear, for what was death compared to honor and pride.

Around me, his guards' breath hissed out, their horses shifted beneath their riders. I smiled, for many of my people had stolen wives from the yurts of the Mongols in the past, as the Mongols had stolen many wives from the yurts of the Xiongnu.

As my grandfather had stolen my grandmother from the Mongols, and Mongol blood ran strong in my veins.

It was counted no dishonor for a woman to be taken in a raid. Dishonor for the men to let their woman be taken perhaps, but for us woman, this was a fact of life. My grandmother had made the most of it. She had been a wife of the Chanyu of the Hu, which was no ill fate. Not his first wife, for he was the Chanyu, and he had had many wives, but a wife nonetheless. Her son though, he had become the Chanyu in his turn, and now her grandson too, fool though he was.

The Khagan threw his head back; his laughter filled the air. "Your grandmother's blood is strong in you, daughter of the Xiongnu, blood of the Khorula's, and I see at a glance that the Khorula blood and the Khorula pride and the beauty of the Khorula women run true. When I was younger, I would have raided your father's yurts for one such as you."

My eyes looked into the Great Khan's. "And if your raid had been successful, I would have welcomed one such as you, to carry me away and make me his wife in the old way."

Now I smiled, for was I not Xiongnu? Was I not a daughter of the steppe? Was I not of the People of the Wolves? "If one such as you could indeed capture me and take me as a daughter of the Xiongnu should be taken. Is not that the way of our peoples, Lord? Is that not the old way?"

His men, his guards, here and there a man nodded agreement, here and there came a hiss of approval, and the Khagan heard. He heard, and he took notice, and I saw that even the Khagan took heed of the approval of his warriors.

"It was our way," the Khagan said. "That was the old way, and it was good, and it appears to me that you are indeed your father's daughter, and that his blood and the Khorula blood run strong in you," and he was watching me, and it was as if he could see into my soul and read my mind and he smiled then. "Your brother the Chanyu has sent you to me as a gift, but I do not accept you as a gift, Princess Altani of the Xiongnu."

My heart sank like a stone cast into a lake, but I held the cold face as the Khagan watched me. Watched me for a long moment and then he smiled. A slow smile, a smile that held a deeper meaning. "Why do we not let us see then if the Khagan can still capture and take a daughter of the Xiongnu as his wife in the old way, if that should be your wish, Princess."

I laughed then. I laughed for joy because he had given me my title and my honor before his warriors. I laughed and my heart was light within me as I tossed my spear to the Captain of my escort, the Captain of Five Hundred. His hand snatched it from the air without thought. My bowcase and quiver followed, and the Captain of Five Hundred bowed his head to me as he took them from my hands for my bow I would not throw.

I had made that bow myself, layers of birch and horn and sinew, bound and glued with the fish-glue, many long and patient weeks in the making, a year in the drying. It had not been the first I had made, but it was the best, and I had kept it for my own use, made as it was for a woman's strength.

The Khagan watched me as I unbuckled my sword and passed it with care to the Lieutenant of Five Hundred, for the Captain held my spear and my bow case. The Lieutenant too bowed his head for he knew this was my grandfather's sword, forged from the sacred sky iron, given to me by my grandfather with his own hands before he died and sour had been my brother's face on that day, and proud had been my father's for there was no love to be lost between my father and my older brother.

The Khagan's guards watched me. My escort watched me, the Khagan watched me, and above me the cloudless blue sky and the red sun on the horizon smiled down on me, and the eternal blue sky gods had indeed blessed me this day.

"Let us then see if the Khagan can still capture and take a daughter of the Xiongnu as his wife in the old way." I said, my eyes holding his for one long moment, my smile showing my pearl-white teeth, my voice clear and loud so that all might hear and from his guards there came a long murmur of approval, and my heart danced with elation for I was no longer bitter at my fate.

"But remember that I am Xiongnu, Lord. I am no Mongol maiden who surrenders herself without a fight." My fingers flicked my knife from my belt, tossed it spinning into the air, caught the blade neatly, sheathed it in one swift move, and then I was in motion, my eyes sparkling.

I knew that his eyes followed me as I moved and my heart raced, my spirit soared. Not just his eyes watched me. The eyes of every Mongol warrior there followed me, and there were many warriors and many eyes.

"Chuhh... chuuhh!" My voice commanded. My heels kicked my great black stallion into motion, and I was laughing as he responded in an instant, bursting from stillness into a gallop, straight down the great stone road that led to the Gates of Xanadu and I was alive as I had not been alive in many long weeks.

"Huyayayayayayaaaaaaa!" My voice sang the ululating war-cry of the Xiongnu as they attacked an enemy encampment. The rhythm of the gallop coursed through my veins. Merchants, horseman, carts pulled by horses, great wagons laden with all the goods of the world, I wove around them. Laborers scattered like chaff on the wind before me, and those that were not fast enough, we ran down, leaving bodies in our wake, but they were only slaves and of no account.