“You know I would prefer to stay with you. But I cannot ask you to give up your zuun.” Galosga smiled at her gently.
“And I don’t want to lose you to another woman. I have grown very fond of you.” She laughed nervously. She paused, then continued. “Marcia told me that the highest kind of love involves sacrificing something precious for the one you love. Both these choices involving my sacrificing something I value above all else: the one, my status as a warrior to be your wife and the mother of our children; the other, to give you up to another woman. Either way,” she was trembling a little now, “I have earned the right to say I love you, Galosga.”
She took his hands in hers, leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. She then rested her head on his shoulder.
“It took you long enough to understand that, huldaji.” He stroked her hair gently, and waited so long in silence that she was afraid he wasn’t going to return the expression. The man could be maddeningly taciturn. Then “I love you, too. I have since the day you let me heal your heart.”
Almost with a sigh of relief, she straightened up and leaned back upright.
“So I have asked Tengri to help us make this decision. You know, I think, this is my fertile period.”
“Yes, and I am honored that you allow me near you.”
“If your seed quickens me tonight, then you will have to put up with my foul temper the rest of your life, because that means Tengri intends me to be your wife, and I my role as a warrior must be second to that. I would like to be wed when we get to Dzungaria, if that is all right with you, and keep my zuun until then, if that is all right with the shanyu.”
“That is good,” he said with a smile.
“And if I don’t quicken, then you can breathe easy, because I will find you a woman worthy of you, and you will be rid of me forever…after I attend your wedding. I will settle for standing in as your sister.”
She stood up and beckoned him to rise. “We have the yurt to ourselves for the rest of the night, and more privacy than we have had since our very first time. There aren’t ten other people in here with us.” She laughed shyly, embracing him, pressing her warm body firmly against his full length, and they shared a long, wet, languorous kiss, their tongues exploring, hands roaming each other’s body. Then she broke away and stood waiting.
Galosga slipped her shirt off over her head, revealing his flint arrowhead on its lanyard between her full breasts. “I will treasure this forever, no matter what happens,” she said, caressing it tenderly. She gave a little choking sob. “Damn you, you taught me to cry again!” She hugged him again, burying her head in his shoulder to shed a few tears.
They unclenched again, and Galosga knelt down to pull her boots off, then her trousers down and off her feet. He stopped to nestle his nose in her triangle of brown black curly hair gracing her prominent mound, savoring her tangy musk.
He then stood and stripped off his clothes and stood before her. Her heart pounding and her mouth dry, she took his hands. “Let’s see what Tengri has in store for us.” She lay down and pulled him down and into her with no preliminaries. Galosga put no effort into restraining himself as he usually did, and when his seed filled her, she exploded in a paroxysm of pleasure like none she had ever experienced, arching her back to receive him more fully. Her body convulsed again and again, and she clung to him until the last shudder left her. She was panting, her heart hammering, sweating despite the chill, as she cradled him in her arms. He was whispering something to her in his own language. She nuzzled his ear with her lips.
They rolled off each other and lay on their backs, wordlessly. She studied the intricate yellow and green design on the shangyrak, the decorative centerpiece in the middle of the roof covering the smokehole, reflecting the fire below. The enormity of what she had just done suddenly hit her. Oh Tengri! We will do what you choose for us!
Two days later, she knew, as many women know, but can’t explain how they know, that Galosga had quickened her. She was riding Eagle when just the faintest of twinges in her lower abdomen told her she was no longer alone. Hello, little stranger! I hope you find your new home to your liking! She thought, patting her lower belly. At the same time, her mouth went dry, and she felt a lump in her throat. Well, it’s done, and it can’t be undone.
And two days later, her very regular course failed to arrive. She visited the shaman to determine what she needed to do.
The migration was gearing up to depart, yurts being loaded onto carts and camels, and she would be leading her zuun out on patrol shortly. She and Galosga rode up to Marcia’s yurt to say goodbye, and to share the news.
“Thanks for the talk the other day. I needed to hear what you had to say,” said Hina from horseback.
“Have you made your decision?” asked Marcia.
“I made it that afternoon.”
“I thought you did. Our cycles have been in synchronization for months,” she said with a knowing wink.
“We asked Tengri to guide us, that if I quickened, it would be his choice that I be Galosga’s wife. Well, I’m pregnant, scared for the first time in my life, and I can’t go back and change my mind. That’s how I wanted it, and that is how I had to have it. I gave him the most precious thing I had, my status as a warrior, and now we have a future together.”
“Being scared of new things is good for you,” said Marcia. “I am happy for you. Father Galosga looks pleased,” she added, glancing at the big man, as his face split with a broad smile. He didn’t smile often, but when he did it was as bright as any lamp.
“How about your zuun?”
“The shanyu said that I can take them to Dzungaria, if I feel able. Two or three months. After that, nobody knows. I am a fighting woman, now I am a pregnant fighting woman, always breaking new ground! The shanyu said he will find more suitable duties for me, so I don’t have to carry my baby into battle and nurse during a fight.”
“Good luck to you and Galosga.”
“If it’s a boy, we’ll name him Antonius, if it’s a girl, Marcia.”
“I’ll return the favor and call ours Galosga or Hina. We’ll let everyone know that the strange names belong to the most marvelous people we ever knew.” She then switched to the Xiongnu that she had learned. “May Tengri bless you, and the great blue sky smile upon you.”
“Not bad! Bona dea te benedicat. May the Good Goddess bless you!”
“I will miss you, and think of you always.” Marcia put her hand on Hina’s taut thigh, gently and affectionately. “Good luck, sister.”
“And to you, sister! Hiyaah!” She wheeled Eagle around and tore off at a gallop, followed by Galosga, both turning to wave farewell. They were riding off into unknown worlds, something both of them were good at doing, each having done it several times.
Antonius walked up beside Marcia and put his hand around her shoulder. “Looks like they got things figured out.”
“Yes, indeed. They are going up Dzungaria and raise tiger kittens,” said Marcia with a smile.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Antonius.
“You just did. She’s a couple of days pregnant.”
CHAPTER 69: THE CARAVANSARY AT TURFAM
Turfam, whose Hanaean name Jiaohe meant ‘River Junction’, was located between two small rivers that converged just southeast of the city. It was built on the arid, elevated flat top of a mile-long mesa. The city overlooked the plain below, lush agricultural land rich in grapes and melons, well-watered by the rivers and an irrigation system extending out about twenty-five miles. It was a nicely built city, the capital of the Jushi kingdom on the periphery of the Middle Kingdom. Long under Xiongnu dominance, it had been conquered by the Han armies more than a century ago, but now was under Bactrian control, administered by the Xiongnu. This suited Aulus and his friends just fine.
The Roman party was encamped just east of the rivers’ confluence on a vast treeless grassland below the town, empty of other travelers following the departure of the Xiongnu.
Th
e bitter winter weather had lifted briefly for a peek at an early spring. It was a tolerably warm day, with brilliant sunlight highlighting the whites of the dusty ground and the yellows of the winterbitten shrubs and grass. Mornings were frosty, but quickly warmed up so heavy winter coats were unnecessary. In the mild weather, everyone did some sightseeing, while Marcia took her turn to guard the camp.
Locals told Aulus, Gaius and Antonius about their karez irrigation system, which the three found fascinating. It kept the area agriculturally productive, despite being just a few dozen miles from the Taklamakan Desert. One man offered to take them up to see it. They accepted eagerly since, even by Roman standards, it sounded like impressive engineering. They rode eastward several miles to the mountains, where vertical shafts had been sunk down hundreds of feet into the mountain. A slightly sloping horizontal tunnel linked the bottoms of the shafts, forming a conduit to lead collected mountain rainwater to the fields below, making the desert bloom even with the very modest precipitation of the area. Their guide led them into one of the horizontal shafts with a torch to light the way. The builders had sunk the vertical shafts every few hundred feet to keep the air from stagnating and suffocating the excavators. Below ground, the water never froze in winter, and the clear, fresh water bubbled happily on its way to the fields. There were hundreds of miles of such tunnels. As impressive as any Roman aqueduct, though almost invisible.
Ibrahim went down to the caravansary about a hundred yards from their camp with Shmuel, Yakov, and Demosthenes.
The caravansary was a very large hexagonal two-story yellow brick building, circled by a wide dirt perimeter road link to the three highways intersecting there. Near the caravansary perimeter there was a large fenced area with several gates, stalls, and water troughs for animals.
On each side of the caravansary’s first floor were double-doored gates big enough to accommodate a fully-burdened camel, opening into an interior courtyard perhaps fifty paces across. The group entered inside through the one open door on the north.
Around the courtyard interior, businesses occupied rooms in the perimeter, including a tavern, a bath house, a kitchen and a bakery, rich with the smell of baking bread, all open and doing some business. There were large store rooms chained shut, and offices of some sort. The interior of the courtyard was filled with frameworks for merchants’ stalls, most vacant, but some sheltered by multicolor awnings over tables covered by local produce and merchandise, fruits, melons, baskets and baskets of grapes and local raisins, a very good local wine, and felt clothing and rugs. A few locals examined the goods or chatted idly with the few remaining vendors.
Ibrahim, taking Demosthenes with him, went off to see if he could find someone who knew anything about caravans. Demosthenes had learned Greek as a boy, but his birth language was Bactrian, and he was pleasantly surprised that most of the locals spoke a dialect that he could understand. And they understood him.
Ibrahim found the office that served the various enterprises operating out of the caravansary. Some of them spoke han-yu, though not well, and the local dialect was very different from the now-familiar Gansu dialect.
Ibrahim asked for someone named Alisher, whom the Xiongnu had recommended to him. They pointed toward a man at a table, studying some maps. Alisher, the manager of one of the two enterprises here, was a short stocky man of Eurasian appearance, about fifty or so, clean shaven with a mustache, longish dark hair streaked with gray, and happy dark eyes. Mercifully, he spoke excellent han-yu, though he exchanged pleasantries with Demosthenes in their own language. He described himself as a Yue-zhi, a Kushan in Bactrian.
“Shanyu Bei of the Huyan clan recommended you. I and my associates need to get to Da Qin territory, but we have no idea how to do that,” said Ibrahim, simplifying their predicament down to the basics.
Not only had the shanyu recommended Alisher to Ibrahim and Aulus, he had also filled Alisher in on their situation. Alisher responded happily, “Let’s go the tavern to discuss this over a bottle of wine!”
In the tavern he acquainted Ibrahim and Demosthenes with the details of how the caravan system worked. The man’s knowledge was encyclopedic; he had begun working in this enterprise under his father, and had led caravans as a youth. His grandfather had built this caravansary.
“You have a long way ahead of you, my friend,” said Alisher. “About five thousand li, six months to a year. But I made the whole trip all the way, not once but twice. I swam in the sea you call the Middle Sea, just so I could say I did. Both trips took more than two years”
Ibrahim mentally converted the li, about two thousand Roman miles. “Quite a trip! How did you do it?”
“No caravan goes all the way, not more than a year roundtrip, usually a lot less. You have to know your route like the back of your hand, and the territory and markets. And your drivers want to see their families again.”
Ibrahim thought how similar this was to oceanic trading.
Alisher continued. “We base out of key cities like Turfam here that provide caravansaries like this one. I work three caravans out of here, one down to Chang’an and back along the way you came, one north to Dzungaria, where your Xiongnu friends are heading, and one southwest to Kashgar, which is where you are going. Each is about a six months round trip, except for Chang’an which is a bit longer.”
“How big are the caravans?” asked Ibrahim.
“Usually about five hundred animals, some supply wagons, a few hundred people as animal guides, and special people like carpenters and wheelwrights to repair wagons. And a few dozen guards.”
“What about tag-alongs like us?”
“We take on travelers if we trust them, for a few silver coins per person. That buys you security, and someone you can trust who knows the area, routes, and languages. It’s good for us, because the bigger the group, the less interest the bandits have in robbing us. Each of those animals carries about five hundreds pounds of merchandise, and you help load them up every morning and unload them every night. If you are any good with weapons, you can help out with security. You provide your own wagons, food, animals, and shelter.”
“Sounds like we need a lot of food and supplies for six months,” said Ibrahim.
“Not really. Going to Kashgar, you will stop at Korla, Kucha, and Gumo, and several smaller towns, usually not more than week or two on the road. You can load up with supplies at each stop, and they have baths, bars, and inns like the one upstairs. My crew has priority for rooms, but you can rent any left over, or camp out around the building.
“What about beyond Kashgar?”
“I have one arriving from Kashgar this week and turning around in a few days to head back. If we agree to do business together, I will be happy to assist in arranging your next leg, and give you a reduced rate if you use one of my partners going west from there,” offered Alisher.
“Interesting. We would like our route to go through the city of Bactra, because Demosthenes needs to return home,” said Ibrahim.
“From Kashgar,” Alisher answered thoughtfully, “the most popular route is to Samarkand through the Ferghana Valley, but that is slow. The caravans stop at all the big trading centers at Khogand, Bukhara and Samarkand, and all the smaller ones in between. There is a lot of buying and selling on that route, and they don’t leave each city till they are full. You will spend a lot of time just waiting to move on, and Bactra would be a detour.”
Alisher took a sip of wine and continued. “I have a partner in Kashgar who runs shorter routes to Bagram, as soon as the snows clear out of the high passes. From Bagram you can go alone to Bactra. The distance is short, the countryside safe, and you will travel much faster.”
“Well, I think I need to discuss this with my friends, but this sounds interesting. I think everyone is in a hurry to get back.”
“So tell me about your friends,” asked Alisher, pouring Ibrahim more wine.
“Well, besides Demosthenes here, there are seven more. Aulus Aemilius Galba, Gaius Lucullus and Antoniu
s Aristides are Da Qin, Marcia is Antonius’ wife, and Shmuel and Yakov are my companions. They all speak Gansu han-yu and the Da Qin speak Greek.”
“Well, this is about the limit for the Gansu dialect. Bactrian will be understood everywhere from here to Parthia, so you will depend on Demosthenes, or learn it from him. Greek is widely spoken west of Kashgar.” He paused and looked Ibrahim squarely in his eye. “And you are what to these people?” asked Alisher pointedly.
“I am their humble guide,” answered Ibrahim.
“Your friends are far from home. How did you come to be here?” asked Alisher.
“We came by ship, at Tianjin. Due to unfortunate circumstances, we missed the ship and it left without us. And the Da Qin are on a mission of discovery, to learn lands and people that are new to them, so they decided to return overland,” answered Ibrahim, evasively.
Alisher expected him to be evasive. The shanyu had described Ibrahim as a man of few words, who would never tell a stranger more than absolutely necessary. His companion Aulus would be the one to fill in the details if Ibrahim approved of the listener.
Alisher accompanied Ibrahim to the Roman encampment to check out their gear and livestock. Everyone was out except Marcia, guarding the encampment. She was wearing her Xiongnu felts, her bow, sword and shield on her back, dagger at her waist, looking formidable except for her smile as she greeted the pair happily.
“This is Marcia, Antonius’ new wife. They had quite a wedding in Liqian a few months ago.” Turning to Marcia, Ibrahim introduced the beaming Alisher, who bowed. “This is Alisher, who has explained how we are to get home.”
“Honored!” answered Marcia.
“Also! I had not expected such a well-armed newly-wed!” quipped Alisher.
Ibrahim interjected. “She was taught to fight by one of the Xiongnu warrior women. She is not someone I would want to go up against alone, and we are all very proud of her.” He patted her affectionately across the shield.
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