One Night in Xanadu

Slaves. Slaves dying a slave's death, and I heeded them not, but heed Jiang Shunfu I did, for I did not forget to spit on his body as we passed. Ahead of me the gate guards closed ranks, blocking the gate but I did not slow, for did I not ride some Han woman's gelding. I rode Aranjagaan, the greatest stallion of the Xiongnu, and the horses of the Xiongnu were the best in the world.

I rode Aranjagaan, whom no man could ride before he came to me of his own will. He had stood for me and allowed me to mount him and ride him as my father and his men watched in amazement, for all others who had tried had been thrown, and some had been trampled and kicked by those great hooves; but to me he had come. When his great brown eyes had looked into mine it was as if we were one, and he had bowed his head to me and to me my father had gifted him, if one could be said to gift such as Aranjagaan.

"Huyayayayayayaaaaaaa!" Aranjagaan's iron-shod hooves trailed sparks from the stone, his head stretched forward, his great muscles bunched, he carried me as effortlessly, as if I was a feather, and I laughed as the spears came down, blocking my path.

"Chhuhhh... chhuhhh," I hissed, my voice and my hands urged Aranjagaan on. His muscles tensed, he jumped, he soared over their heads and the spears and behind me the Khagan's voice roared, the horns sounded, and the chase was on.

This city of stone was a mystery to me, I who had never seen a city or town of the Han. I knew of no other peoples that built like this, none but the Han, and I did not care. Ahead of me was the great dome of the Khagan's summer palace, known to my people through songs carried across the steppe, told to me in the stories of my escort as we journeyed to this place of stone and towards that Palace, towards that great dome hewn from the bones of the earth, I urged Aranjagaan on, heedless of the people thronging the crowded streets.

Crowded were those streets, crowds of people such as I had never seen, bewildering, the streets teeming with life and with vibrant colors. Camels, donkeys, horses, palanquins carried by their teams of bearers, sedan chairs, carts, wagons, people of such variety as I had never seen. Shops and stalls, butchers, bakers, vendors of such variety as I had never imagined, and almost I would have liked to stop and look at the contents of those stalls, those shops, for never had I heard of so many different things gathered and sold in one place before; but I could not stop for behind me the horns called and the pursuit sounded, and I must continue.

"Huyayayayayayaaaaaaa!" My voice sang the ululating war-cry of the Xiongnu again and again as Aranjagaan's hooves thundered, as his wild neighing echoed down the stone canyons.

Han cowered against the walls of the buildings, those walking the streets looked towards us and darted aside. Those who were too slow were left lying on the stone paving, and I cared not, for they were not of my people, they were not Hu or Mongol, they were not of the steppe, and thus they were of no account. Carriages and wagons and carts we dodged and behind us, always behind us, the horns of the Khagan's guards sang high, sang the hunting calls, and the hooves, the cries, they echoed through these canyons of carved and hewn stone.

"Huyayayayayayaaaaaaa!" The ululating war-cry of the Xiongnu rang out in this stronghold of the Great Khan, such a cry as had once struck fear and terror into the hearts of the Mongols in days past when the Xiongnu horde swarmed down on them, arrows shadowing the sky with death's dark cloud.

Today there was no swarm of Xiongnu, no death cloud shadowing the sky under which I rode. Today there was only I, and I alone. A single Xiongnu girl, unarmored, unshielded, alone, clad in her black leather boots and trousers, her black leather tunic and over all, her long ceremonial dress of fine white felt, belted around my waist with my fine blue sash of treasured silk, my hair braided with pearls and with coins of gold and silver that were my dowry, as befits a princess.

A princess now armed with naught but a knife and her courage to defend her virtue, galloping headlong into the heart of the Great Khan's city for honor and pride, pursued by the Khagan himself, and I would give him such a fight as no woman of his had given him ever before.

My heart sang with joy, for when the tale of my pursuit and my taking as a wife in the old way by the Great Khan himself made its way to the yurts of my people, their hearts too would sing. Sing with pride that a princess of the Xiongnu had dared to bate the Khagan in his own city. Sing with pride that a princess of the Xiongnu had been captured and taken by the Khagan as his wife in his own city in the old way. Sing with pride that a princess of the Xiongnu had been taken as a wife of the Khagan in the old way, the honored way, the way of our peoples.

Also present in my mind was the knowledge that should the Khagan make me with child in the old way, ties of blood between our peoples would be renewed, and my people, led though they now were by a fool, would be the safer within this Empire of the Great Khan's.

"Huyayayayayayaaaaaaa!" My heart swelled with joy as I urged Aranjagaan on, for this was the first and very likely the last time the war-cry of the Xiongnu would ring out in this summer capital of the Khanate and always before my eyes was that great dome ahead of me, the heart of the city, the summer palace of the Khagan and I burst into the great square that fronted the walls surrounding the Khagan's summer palace.

Across that empty square towered another gated fortress. Set in that fortress, a great gate stood open, many guards to each side, and as the horns behind me sounded out their wild hunting calls, as the cries echoed out, I sang once more the war-cry of the Xiongnu, slowing Aranjagaan from his wild gallop for ahead of me the Khagan's gate guards formed an impenetrable wall of spearmen backed by mounted archers so deep there was no jumping them, even for Aranjagaan.

Behind me, the Khagan galloped headlong into the square. Behind him his guards careered in, fanning out in a long line as if they were going into battle. I slowed. I turned Aranjagaan to face them, my knife now in my hand, the blood-rage in my eyes, and the Khagan's hand was raised, the horsemen halted. The Khagan halted.

All was still, the great square silent. Silent enough that the squeak of a mouse would be heard from one side to the other. If a mouse had been brave enough to squeak in that moment.

This mouse did more than squeak.

"Does the Khagan need his guards to trap a maiden of the Xiongnu? A poor helpless girl, alone and defenceless?" My voice mocked him, as I had mocked suitors before my father had died. My knife-blade glinted in the last of the red sunlight. "A poor girl with but a little knife to defend herself?"

A knife that had ripped out the throat of more than one importunate man who had desired me. Beneath me Aranjagaan snorted, shaking his head. and it was as if his laughter joined mine.

The Khagan said nothing. A gesture of his hand and the guards blocking the gate parted, leaving a lane for me to pass through.

"Enter my palace, maiden of the Xiongnu. Enter if you dare..." His voice held laughter as I turned Aranjagaan and trotted him through the passage his guards made for me, and the Khagan's horse trotted after me, carrying the Khagan, and his guards followed him.

Inside those great wooden gates, I paused, for it was as if I had entered paradise. Ahead of me stretched fields of verdant grass, groves of trees, gardens bright with sinuous rills, and a wide stone road leading straight to the great palace with its dome of gilded metal, shining now like red gold in the last of the daylight; and the Khagan was there, on his horse beside me, smiling.

"Twice five miles of fertile ground, with walls and towers girdled round, is it not beautiful, Princess?" the Khagan said, and his voice was slow and almost sleepy, as if he dreamed a waking dream and behind him his lines of guards reformed.

"It is beautiful indeed, Lord," I said, and it was; but it was an artificial beauty, manicured and groomed, not the wild beauty of the steppe on a spring day of sunshine, blue sky and green grass; or the glowering blackness of a great storm in summer where the thunder rolls like the hooves of the sky gods horses, and the lightning hammers down as a sword strikes a foe.

"It is beautiful, but while you sit here on your horse admiring its beauty, this beautiful maiden of the Xiongnu will be escaping your taking."

One kick, one laugh and my great Aranjagaan sprang into life, leaping forward onto the grass that was now gray in the dusk, for night was fast falling. The Khagan laughed and laughing, he kicked his steed into motion, pursuing me and ever I dodged him, ever I outran him. No horse of the steppe could outrun my Aranjagaan, and if we had been on the steppe, my escape would have been certain, and the Khagan would have had to find a new wife elsewhere.

Here, in the gardens of the Khan's summer palace, there was no escape, and I had passed through those great wooden gates with that knowledge in my heart. Aranjagaan could run all night, but the dawn would come. Should it come and should I have evaded the Khagan, I would have given the Khagan no honor, and in his Palace, in this palace of Xanadu, I would shame my people and put their lives at risk, and that too I knew.

"It is time," I whispered in Aranjagaan's ear, slowing him a little as we circled a grove of trees and that little was enough, for inside this pleasure garden I had not let Aranjagaan run free. Behind me the Khagan roared with delight as he gained on me and soon, soon he was beside me, his horse's eyes wild, muscles straining in the gallop. I smiled as the Khagan's horse closed on mine. I slipped off Aranjagaan as the Khagan reached out for me, holding onto my great stallion's mane, my feet touching the ground on the far side and then springing up and over Aranjagaan's back. This was something I had practiced many times.

I sprang and not just over Aranjagaan. I sprang, my feet settled on Aranjagaan's back and I sprang again, through the air, and the Khagan's eyes widened as I landed on his back. My arms locked around his throat, my muscles strained as I braced my feet on his horse's back and I threw the Khagan from his galloping horse to the ground. My arms released him as we crashed to the ground, rolling across the grass, springing to my feet as he sprang to his, and he was laughing.

"Well done, Princess of the Xiongnu," he said, shaking himself, and I knew he had felt that impact, as had I, for falling from a galloping horse is no easy matter, even for those such as we whose horses were a part of us and many have broken bones in this game. "Well done."

My knife was in my hand now, and I crouched low, moving towards him in the tiger stance for tonight he was my prey, and I would kill him, or he would vanquish me. Yet deep in my heart I knew I could not kill him, for that would bring death down on my people. Draw blood, perhaps, and I smiled at the thought.

"My knife is not poisoned, Lord," I called so that all could hear. "But it is sharp."

"I do not doubt that it is," the Khagan called back, also so that all could hear. "I would expect nothing else from a maiden of the Xiongnu defending her virtue."

He stepped back, unbuckling his sword belt and his sword, passing them to one of his guards and around us, the Khagan's guards had reined in their horses, dismounting, forming a circle, a wide circle of standing men, horses at the rear for all his men watched, and I knew none would miss this, for this would be a tale worth retelling, how they themselves had witnessed the Khagan vanquishing a Princess of the Xiongnu in his own palace gardens.

Now I bared my teeth, for this story would be certain to be told, and it would grow in the telling, and my fool of a brother would know fear as he heard. How a Xiongnu maiden fought the Great Khan in the old way in the grounds of his own palace, his palace of Xanadu and became his wife in the old way, the honorable way. Not gifted, but taken as a maiden should be taken, by force and right of conquest and this was such a man as I would have asked to raid my father's yurts had he ridden into our camp and eaten the guest salt.

For a moment, a mere moment, my head spun with exhaustion and my feet were uncertain and in that moment the Khagan could have taken me and I knew it. The Khagan's eyes met mine and he too knew and I was filled with despair for this was not the end that I had sought.

"Hold." The Khagan raised his hand. "The Princess of the Xiongnu has been riding all day. She must be famished, and I would have my other wives and my concubines come to greet their new sister. Bring food, bring wine, bring kumis, summon the drummers and the chant-singers, summon my wives and concubines, bring lights, for we will not fight in darkness."

Grateful I was indeed, for I was tired and famished though I would admit it not. I sank to the grass, seating myself cross-legged as a low table was placed between us, the Khagan on one side, I on the other and behind me Aranjagaan whickered softly, his nose brushing the back of my head and while we waited, I shed my white felt dress to sit in my black leather breeches and tunic.

Food was bought, food and hot tea for me, salted and with butter, and I drank gratefully. Kumis, fermented mare's milk, for the Khagan. and he drank of it as he ate, drank copiously, ate enormously and I, I ate the roast mutton and the tender lamb and the steamed rice and the meat of the steppe antelope. I ate hungrily. I ate gratefully, my strength restored with every mouthful, but I did not eat to excess for I intended to fight and fight well. I would be no easy victory for this Khagan.

I smiled now as he drained another great wooden bowl of the kumis, for every bowl he drank would slow him a little, and when his bowl emptied I took the jug from the servant's hands and refilled his bowl myself as a maiden would fill her suitor's bowl. I picked the choicest meats for him with my fingers and placed them on his dish, smiling shyly as I did so for he was not yet my husband, and I was not yet vanquished, but all who watched saw and nodded their approval, for my actions were those of a courted maiden who favors her suitor, and it was not as if there were any doubt as to the outcome of this nights wooing.

At his back, the drums of the hastily summoned shaman's now beat softly, their song background to our meal. The Khagan's ladies arrived on foot or in palanquins, the Han ladies twittering like the helpless birds of pleasure that they were, the Mongol women silent, their eyes assessing me as they seated themselves on carpets spread across the grass before the Khagan's guards. I bowed my head low to she to whom all others deferred, and she was Mongol, the Khagan's First Wife, and I knew her name was Borte for the Captain of Five Hundred had told me of her.

Her returned smile warmed me.

The Khagan sat cross-legged, as did I, and with a gesture and a word, he summoned Chingay, the Captain of Five Hundred, to his side. I listened as they talked, not understanding their words for they spoke a dialect unknown to me, their faces inscrutable, expressionless although their eyes glanced at me on occasion, so that I assumed they were talking of me. At last, Chingay backed away.

"Has the Princess Altani of the Xiongnu refreshed herself?" the Khagan asked me, his eyes twinkling. "Is she ready to continue?" And he winked but I needed not that warning.

"She has, Lord, and she thanks you for your hospitality, and she is more than ready to continue," I said, and as he threw himself across the table at me, scattering the food, smashing priceless porcelain, any piece of which would have been a treasure beyond price amongst my people, I rolled backwards, flipping myself to my feet and slamming one foot into his head hard enough to rock him sideways, hard enough that I evaded his grasping hands, and his nose was bloody as he rolled to his feet for I had in no way pulled that kick.

"A Princess of the Xiongnu is not so easy to vanquish with little tricks, Lord," I said, feinting, but he did not move. The gasp from his wives and his concubines was audible, the hisses of appreciation from his men even louder, and the Khagan's laughter louder still.

"Princess Altani of the Xiongnu," his voice boomed out. "You are a wildcat indeed, and zerleg muur, wildcat, I name you. With the exception of my First Wife..." His smile grew. "... the only woman who can ever say she has landed a blow on the Khagan. Is that not so?" He glanced at his guards.

"It is so, Lord," they rumbled, and they were grinning, enjoying the show and so was his First Wife, for she was laughing; and I saw that even though he was the Khagan, the Great Khan whose word was life or death, there was a bond between the Khagan and his men that was true loyalty, they to he and he to they. Loyalty such as my father's warriors showed to my father; and this was a leader, a ruler, whose warriors followed from respect and love as well as duty and honor.

I used that moment, that glance at his men, to dart in, a kick to the back of his knee, with all the force I could put behind it, buckling his knee; and I pivoted, my other leg kicking back, at his chest and out of balance he fell backwards, rolling, seizing my ankle in a grip of iron but I kicked free though his fingers were of steel and bruised me; but I was no tender Han maiden to quail at mere bruises. I was Xiongnu, and I rolled back and away as he rolled to his feet and eyed me, and he was not laughing now.

There was nothing passive about the Khagan as he stood there, looking at me. He might have been still, but it was the stillness of the snake, waiting to strike. On my feet, mine, mine was the stillness and the alertness of the mongoose, and I held the knife in the knife-fighters stance and all who saw me would know I knew how to use that knife.

I needed every fraction of that alertness for the Khagan was fast, striking like a viper; and he almost had me with that first attack, moving in, and he was fast, faster than any of Chingay's men whom I had fought, and I would not make the mistake of closing with him, for his chest and shoulders and arms were thick with muscles, and once those arms had me in their grasp, it would be over.

No, my advantages were my speed and my skill and I would use them. I would use every iota of them and as the Khagan moved in, my knife slashed out, slicing through the leather of his sleeve; and all who saw gasped, for my knife was of razor sharpness, and I was not hesitant. A fraction of an inch closer and the Khagan's arm would have now been streaked with red but he showed no hesitation as he moved in, evading my knife as he attempted to close and I, I danced backwards, staying out of reach of those hands of steel. Now I shielded my knife hand, for it was the concealed threat of my knife that held him at bay, cautious now for I was faster than he, but without his strength.

"The zerleg muur, the wildcat, has sharp claws," he said, and his eyes were narrowed, narrowed to slits, concentrating, focused, and I knew now that he took me seriously. He knew now that this was not mere bravado on my part, and Chingay's men too had discovered that too on our long journey.

I bared my teeth in a smile, not answering, my own eyes narrowed, focused, intent, looking for that flicker that would signal his intent; but he was impossible to read and now he came in faster and his balance, his footwork, they were perfect; and I drifted back, almost running backwards, my mind clear and calm as the old master who had been my instructor for so many years had taught me.