One Night in Xanadu

"We must hope," Borte said, and I saw the direction her glance took. "You have won him over with a song, and to have him on your side is something many have tried and few have succeeded in doing; but now he looks, I believe, favorably on you. He and I see many things the same. He is truly loyal to the Khagan, though some doubt that and many hate and fear Phagpa for there is a dark side to him."

Her face was lined. I saw now that those lines were of worry and fear. "I care for my Lord, Altani. My only desire is to serve him and to serve our people and always, always I fear for him and for our people, for we of the steppe, we Mongol, Xiongnu and the others who are our kin, we are but a single drop in this sea of Han we rule, and we must stand ever together, although some do not see the necessity of this, and they are fools. "

She looked now into my eyes, searching my soul, and she seemed to find something that she was looking for. "In you, there lies the strength and purity of the steppe, Altani. Give of that strength and purity to my Lord. You have pledged to him as none other of his wives and women have, and I saw and heard the truth in that pledge and so too did the Khagan, or he would not have accepted your vow as he did."

Again, I bowed my head. "I will, my Lady. I have pledged my word, and I am Xiongnu. We are loyal to our word once given, and, too, their is Khorula blood in me."

Borte looked at me and I looked at her and I read her as she read me. Strength lay in her. The strength of the women of the steppe, for even for a daughter of the Chanyu such as I it was a hard life, and the weak did not survive. Strength and courage and loyalty. Above all, loyalty and I bowed again, wordless, and there was no need for more words between us, but I spoke regardless.

"As First Wife and as an older sister and as a mother you will be to me, Lady," I murmured. "Always you will have my respect and my willing obedience to your wishes and commands as First Wife, and in this I pledge you my word."

She nodded, once, and now she glanced past me. "I will summon attendants," she said, and her words were spoken to the Khagan.

"There is no need," the Khagan said, standing, resting his hand on my slender shoulder as I stood with him. "It will be my pleasure to ready the Princess Altani for my bed tonight."

He smiled at his First Wife, and it was the smile of a husband who knew his woman well. "She will remain with me until the morn. There is no need to send someone to remove her from my bed. Come for her after the sun rises, Borte and take her into your care."

"Lord." First Wife bowed her head low in obedience, and all watched us as the Khagan led me from the wedding feast. Behind us the revelry rose anew, and it was as with a wedding feast of my own people. Long would it continue into the night, many would be the unconscious bodies lying on the rugs and on the polished wooden floors come the morn. No doubt some of those bodies would be bodies indeed if these Mongols followed similar customs to my own people.

A wedding was not a wedding unless blood was spilt, and with warriors such as these, and women as beautiful as the Khagan's many servant girls, there would be fights, and those fights would see blood spilt. With warriors such as the Khagan's, where blood was spilt, death soon followed, and I smiled, for that blood and those deaths would bring honor to our wedding. I was glad for that as I walked with the Khagan and many eyes were on me, no doubt curious as to this new Xiongnu bride.

Before and around and behind us, the picked guards of the Khagan strode, ever alert, swords in hand, eyes constantly roving as my father's guards eyes had constantly roved, ever searching for any danger, any threat. Behind them, and close to my back, strode Chingay with a dozen of his picked men and in the midst of those guards, my hand in the Khagan's, I walked the hallways of a palace such as I had never imagined. My eyes roamed, ever curious for it had never dawned on me that men's hands could create a single building as enormous as this.

Hallway after hallway we trod, long corridors, great halls whose purpose I could not imagine, verdant courtyards paved with stone walkways, fountains with flowing water, lanterns hung, and always around us the guards, moving ahead and behind and around us. Beside me the Khagan strode silently, and it was not my place to speak unless I was bidden. Curious though I was at all we passed through, I restrained that curiosity, walking silently at the Kagan's side; silent as a woman should be unless her husband or her father bids her speak, although I was not always so obedient.

"Wait, Lord, Lady," one of the bodyguards spoke as we reached two carved wooden doors flung wide, guards to either side and half a dozen pairs of the guards who had escorted us from the banquet hall moved ahead through the doorway. Thus had my father's guards moved ahead of my father as he entered a yurt.

I waited, my hand in the Khagan's as if it were a child's, and my fear and my excitement rose within me.

"Patience, little wildcat," the Khagan murmured, smiling as I glanced up at him and now I was shy, for I had never been with a man, as befits a Princess who must retain her virtue for her husband and for her wedding night.

"All is safe, Lord." The guards emerged.

"Come, my Princess." The Khagan led me through the doors and into such a room as I had never seen before. There had been much in this Xanadu, this Summer Palace of the Khagan, that had been beyond anything that I imagined; and this room, this chamber of pleasure, for that is what it was, it was beyond anything my eyes had yet seen.

Used I was to sleeping in my father's yurts, the walls hung with tapestries, the ground lain over with thick rugs of knotted wool, a burning brazier keeping all warm through the long cold of winter on the steppe. Used I was to sleeping on thick sheepskins and layers of felt, covered by blankets of wool. Used I was in the harsh frozen weeks of mid-winter to sleeping kneeling on my forearms and my knees to raise my body from the chill of the frozen ground that sucks the heat from the body even when overlain by thick layered felt and by woollen fleeces and blankets.

This room, this bedchamber, it was a room of such palatial splendor that my heart caught in my throat and my breath came in a gasp of astonishment.

"Do you enjoy my bedchamber, Princess?" the Khagan smiled down at me as I gazed around in open admiration.

While this room was in the midst of this great palace, it could almost have been the interior of my father's great yurt but twice, perhaps thrice the size, and for one man alone where my father's yurt was his and whichever of his wives and family he chose to eat and sleep there with him. My father's pride and joy was a single silk painting of the Han, brought to him by the Han "princess" gifted to him when he had succeeded as Chanyu, and I had never met her, for she had died before I was born.

Of a weakness of the lungs, my mother had said. I would not have put it past my mother to have rid herself of competition to her children, for my father had treasured that princess of the Han for her frail and delicate beauty. At times when he turned maudlin with the heady strength of the airag he would talk to me of her, for it was to me my father turned rather than my brother the fool; and always I listened, for even in his drink my father was a wise man, and words of great wisdom often fell from his lips.

I gazed around me and how I wished my father was here, gifting his daughter to the Khagan and able to offer me those words laden with his wisdom and advice. For here, in this great City of Stone, this Xanadu, I was a stranger in a strange land, a swimmer in great waters far out of my depth and this room held me speechless, for anything I should say might work against me.

"It is a place of great beauty, Lord," I whispered at last, for indeed it was. Great beauty and yet a savage beauty that was not of the Han, and my heart thrilled within me.

Those stone walls were painted white and hung with scored and damaged leather shields, bows and bow-cases of every sort, daggers, swords, axes, even spears. Between those weapons were colored paintings in the Han style, of horses and riders hunting, of strange mountains and flowing rivers, even of trees and flowers -- and those flowers were things of beauty beyond a vision.

At the far end, against one wall, a bed was placed, a large bed. A bed of carved wood overlain with layers of soft felt and sheets and cushions of silken white, and on the stand to one side of that bed were my sword, my knife, my bow and my quiver of arrows and against the wall stood my spear, all laid out as they had ever been close to me in my father's yurts -- and the sight reassured me for those weapons meant that the Khagan trusted me with his life. My heart swelled with pride at the honor done to me this night, with this simple gesture of trust in one hitherto unknown to the Khagan.

"Never have I seen such a sight as this, my Lord husband," I said as the Khagan closed and barred the wooden doors behind us with his own hands. We were alone now, his guards and Chingay's men, my own guards in truth now, they stood without.

"You will see this sight often in the nights to come, little wildcat," the Khagan had smiled. "For beautiful and spirited as you are, you will be summoned often to my bed."

Now my smile was shy, my cheeks pink, for I was a maiden and unused to being summoned to any man's bed. He chuckled at my shy embarrassment, watching me as I examined that room, unlike any yurt I had ever entered, and my father's yurt had been impressive indeed, needing a dozen carts to carry but the felt walls and roof. This room by itself dwarfed by far my father's greatest yurt, and it was merely one room in this great palace.

Glancing at the Khagan, I wondered at my fate, for this was something I had never dreamed of. To be the Khagan's wife, albeit his most junior wife. Not one of his concubines, and of them there had been many and no doubt there were more. I was a wife of the Khagan, and this was beyond anything I had dreamed of and certainly this had not been my fool of a brother's intent. The Khagan's first wife and I had already talked during the ikhudar, the wedding feast, and her I had understood, as she had understood me.

I was of the steppe as his First Wife was, and I had given her the respect that a First Wife was owed. No usurper, I, and I had been at some pains to make that clear for I was new here, I was the most junior wife, and I was of the steppe -- but I was not of pure Mongol blood. I was Hu, I was Hun, I was Xiongnu and of that I was proud.

First Wife, she had welcomed me, reassured me. Before all his wives and concubines she had called me Little Sister, and my heart had overflowed with gratitude and relief. Those other Mongol wives, they had welcomed me also and those two of the Khorula's, they had acknowledged me as kin. They knew my grandmother's family and they had welcomed me as sister, and with that welcome and that acknowledgement as kin, my status and place was assured.

But now, now I was in the Khagan's bedchamber, alone. He and I, and as he turned and gazed at me, his smile grew and his arousal grew visibly with that smile. Now I was both filled with desire and afraid, for the time to defend my virtue had passed. Now was the time to surrender myself, to be taken as a maiden is taken -- and I was both eager and more than a little fearful for I knew his strength, as one who had fought him and been vanquished. Also, I had felt his arousal, and he had been large and hard, as a stallion is for a mare.

"Come, be not afraid, little maiden," the Khagan said, extending one hand to me and I gave him my hand, trembling a little now, following as he led me through an archway and into yet another room of stone, the floor paved with marble. In the center of that floor was set a giant waterhole from which steam rose, and my eyes widened in amazement.

"It is called a bath, little wildcat," the Khagan smiled. "Where we of the steppe bathe in rivers and icy lakes and in the snow, the Han build these from wood or stone and heat the water, and delightful they are." He chuckled. "Is it any wonder we defeated those Han, for they are soft and unused to hardship such as we of the steppe know it."

His hands sought the fastenings of my dress, my fine wedding dress of red felt which I still wore and my eyes gazed upwards into his. My protest that this was unfitting, that the Khagan should not do this, that protest died unspoken for his eyes and his face said that he did indeed want to do this -- and so I stood unmoving as his fingers completed the unfastening, as his hands eased my dress from my shoulders to discard on the marble flagstones.

"Hush." One finger touched my lips as I began to bend for I treasured this dress of pure red felt as my wedding dress, and I would not see it despoiled by the dirt of the floor on which we stood, although those flagstones gleamed and never had I see such cleanliness.

"There are servants here, little wildcat. A wife of the Khagan has no need to labor except at that which pleases the Khagan. Servants will take your clothes, servants will bring you fresh clothes in the morning. Borte will come to you and guide you, and tomorrow you will have your own maids and servants and your own suite of rooms near to Borte and your Khorula sisters. Chingay and his men will guard you well. You need have no fear that you will be left unguarded, unguided and untended. But for tonight, for our wedding night, it is I that will guide and tend you, my Altani, my beautiful little wildcat."

His lips spoke my name gently, as if he was tasting me, and I kissed his finger then, a gentle kiss. My smile was tremulous for I was fearful and his reassurance and his care for me meant much as his fingers ran over body, caressing me through my leather tunic; and he held me close, he buried his face in my hair, in my neck and I was ashamed, for those many concubines, those other wives, they had that smell of scented soap, of perfumes, their hair shining and silky, their complexions white and flawless.

I knew my hair, in its braids decorated with pearls and gold and silver coins, was matted and thick with oil and smoke, my face and arms burnt brown from those long days and weeks of travel, and I did not have that pale delicacy of his Han concubines. I had come straight from the road and that bout with the Khagan to my wedding feast, and now to my wedding bed. Of that I was all too conscious, for did not the Khagan prefer his concubines silky and smooth, freshly washed and perfumed, reeking not of horses and dirt and sweat.

"Ahhhhhh," the Khagan breathed, inhaling deeply, his face buried in my hair, his hands running over the black leather of my tunic. "Altani, my princess, my little wildcat, you bring to me the scent of the steppe. The scent of our people. Sweat and horses and the smoke of our cooking fires and the steel of our weapons, the milk of our sheep and the salt-blood of our mares on your lips." He lifted his head, his eyes looked down into mine and there was a deep longing there.

"We have lost much in this conquest of the Han, in this Great Khanate, for while we have conquered from horseback, while my armies ride ever onwards, we cannot rule an Empire from the backs of our horses. It is the dismounting and governing that is hard, and in adopting their ways, we weaken ourselves. It is such as you, my little wildcat, who remind me of this. It is something I need to be reminded of often, for it is all too easy for our people to lose ourselves in these sybaritic luxuries. At times I yearn for the steppe, for the freedom of riding with my warriors under the blue skies, with nothing but the grasslands as far as the eye can see and the blue sky overhead."

"Let me remind you now, my Lord husband," I murmured, no longer ashamed of that familiar scent of sweat and horse and smoke that permeated my hair, my skin, my clothing. "Forget this bath, forget these Han affectations and take me now, Lord. Take me as you would have taken a woman of the Xiongnu whom you captured in the old days. Take me on the hard ground beneath our feet as you would have taken a wife newly stolen from her father's yurts and let me scream for you, let me struggle and fight as you take me, let me remind you of the old days and the old ways, Lord. Let me give you that, if that is your desire, Lord."

My hand reached down and held him where he was swollen and rigid beneath those leather breeches that he wore, and they were the leather of the Mongol horsemen, leather such as my own people wore, even the women such as I. The Khagan wore not the silk robes of the Han, and I knew where his heart lay and I was gladdened, for this I could give him. In this I could lighten his load, ease his stress and make myself favored and my hand caressed him.

"Forget the ways of the Han on this night and take me in the old way, Lord. Let me give you that gift on our wedding night. Take me as you would have taken a maiden of my people in the old days. Let me remind you of what you are, and I shall be content."

He shuddered under the touch of my fingers. His eyes burned with desire. The power and strength and will in those eyes brought a weakness to my knees, a flood of heated excitement to my sex such that I knew I was melting with my own desire -- and I had seen men with women, I had heard the women talk. My own mother had advised me of this, and I had watched the stallions mate with the mares, the rams with the ewes. I knew this Khagan was as a great stallion, and on this night I was to be his mare.

"Take me, Lord," I breathed. "Take me in the old way if that gives you pleasure, clasp me to you as you would clasp a daughter whom you have taken by force from her father's yurts."

"Little wildcat of the steppe," he breathed, and there was no laughter in his voice now, only the flaring of his nostrils and a quickening of his breathing as my fingers fumbled at the fastenings of my leather tunic. My hands pulled my tunic over my head. My hands unwrapped the binding that restrained my breasts. His hands joined mine, exposing my skin of pale olive, revealing the youthful firmness of my breasts. His hands sought my breasts, cupped them. Under his large hands my breasts of whose beauty I was so proud were small, tiny almost; and I shivered at his touch, my nipples swelling to a firmness that ached; and my knees weakened.

"You are beautiful, Altani," he breathed. "I will take you indeed, but not as a maiden ravished from her father's yurts in the night. Rather I will take you as a wife willingly wedded, for you come to my bed as a wife, eagerly and willingly, and I will not spoil what should be for you a night of joy merely to slake my desire." His look now was one almost of anger. "Your brother insulted you by offering his father Attila's daughter to me as a mere gift and not as a wife."

"Do not punish him for that, Lord," I breathed in sudden fear, for while I would have willingly killed him myself, that was now in the past, and he was my brother. "He offered me to you in good faith, humbling himself and me to show his loyalty to you, and I came to you in obedience to his gifting."

While I would have killed my brother to better rule my people myself, now that I was a wife of the Khagan, that would never be. I would never rule my people, and that was something that could not be changed. My destiny was in this room with me, and I would make the most of this, my fate.

The fate of my Khorula grandmother was mine now, and had not my grandmother's son become the Chanyu? Was I not now the Khagan's wife? A son of mine to the Khagan would succeed the Khagan, for he had no sons as yet, and new ambition flared bright within me, for was I not now at the center of the world, was I not the Khagan's wife? Power beyond any held by the Chanyu of the Xiongnu lay here, and so now lay I.