She took the reins, encouraging Excelsior to lay on still more effort. Several men were down, the rest beginning to mill around, disorganized, some still dismounted. She drew her sword and drove into the three men on foot, dropping one with a crunching slash to the shoulder. From the corner of her eye she saw Fahrhad charge into the remaining bandits, sword drawn and swinging. The last of the bandits wheeled about, galloping off to the north, leaving their fallen in the dirt. She counted four down. The fight was over.
She gently pulled Excelsior to a walk. He blew noisily, tossed his head and slowed. It was suddenly very quiet, except for the blowing of the two horses. “Good boy, Excelsior, you’re a good boy!” she said, patting his sweaty neck as she rode up to Farhad, feeling exhilarated.
But Farhad’s face was livid with anger. “Don’t ever ride off on your own again like that, woman, or I’ll put an arrow in you myself! Understand?”
Marcia flushed. She had expected praise, not a harsh admonishment. She nodded, not sure what she had done wrong, no idea what to say.
“I’m your boss, and you left me alone not knowing what the hell you were doing!” But then the anger left his face, replaced with a slight smile. “But nice work, after I figured it out! I was afraid I had lost you when you disappeared from the saddle. Xiongnu trick, but I never saw it done before.”
“I had to bust my butt a lot of times before I got the hang of that. And never did it at that kind of speed! And I’m sorry… I wanted to be in that fight.”
Farhad tossed her a waterskin. “You were. Drink some water, and wash the dirt off your face. Then let’s find some water for the horses. And make sure the bandits don’t circle around and come back at us.”
The bandits did not return. Several hours later, the memory of the hum of arrows, some missing her by inches, the face of the man she had cut down, made her realize how close she had come to death that afternoon. She suddenly felt so chilled her teeth chattered.
Farhad and Marcia returned to Gumo, where the caravan had already arrived. The story of Marcia’s exploits in the encounter with the bandits made for good campfire stories. But the back-to-back watches continued.
After Gumo, they cut north through a well-watered rolling green plateau, rising several thousand feet. Here was the first forest they had seen since leaving Liqian, tall pines against the sharp gray cliffs of the Tien Shan Mountains seeming so close it could be touched, steamy white clouds wisping over their snow-clad peaks. It was April, but they were glad they had kept the Xiongnu winter gear… it was quite chilly, even in the day, and snow lay on the ground, though not a solid layer in the sunlight.
Finally the walls of Kashgar came into sight. Two years since they left Roman territory, and they were now maybe halfway home.
CHAPTER 72: LAYOVER IN KASHGAR
Marcia stepped into the bathhouse and stripped off her riding felts, rancid with sweat. She eased herself into the hot bath, pausing for a moment to let the heat loosen aching muscles, then settling down all the way to her chest. A small shelf next to the tub held a bottle of scented oil, a ball of soap, and a wet washrag.
Marcia had always been fastidious about her hygiene, but the two months since Turfam had made that all but impossible. The long days and nights of shift after shift without a break had left her little privacy in the yurt to tend to her personal needs, and the cold weather made splashing icy stream water on bare skin really unpleasant. She knew… she had tried it several times. It was better than nothing, but not to be enjoyed. But that was over, and a hot tub and a thorough scrubbing seemed like a really good idea.
She washed her hair, then laid back and let the steam curl around her head. Antonius had given the bath attendant a bottle of wine and some coppers, telling him to find something to do for an hour, so she had plenty of time. Bless his sweet heart, Antonius knew how badly she needed this. Maybe because, sleeping with her, he knew just how rank she had become!
She examined the scar across the top of her left breast. It had healed nicely, leaving just a white line, barely visible. She hoped the injury had not damaged its ability to make milk, but no matter… she had two. And the need for that was still far off, though maybe when they got to Roman territory… mmmh. The hot bath made her mind wander.
She twisted the iron wedding ring on her left ring finger, the one with the nerve connected to the heart, they said. Her mother’s ring, given by her father Marius, now hers.
How much her life had changed in the past year. Last year, she had kowtowed herself on the floor before the Son of Heaven – Emperor He, she corrected herself, let’s not deify the man. She replayed the memory of that day, recapturing all her feelings then. She was not afraid he would condemn her to death, she was afraid he would not, and send her back to the concubinage and Wang Ming. She had decided, there on the floor, that if he did that, she would kill herself. Though she didn’t know how, or if she could. There had been a disturbance behind her, muted calls from the guards, and Aulus and the men bursting in. She him heard addressing the Emperor, angrily demanding her right to a trial as a Roman! She heard the Emperor respond in Latin, surprisingly good, and the Senator saying that if she were to die, they would all die with her. For the first time in her life, she had not been some insignificant insect, but a person worth dying for. She had hoped it would not come to that, though it almost did.
She thought of that night when she took Antonius into her for the first time, with her brother, Gaius and Aulus watching to warn of the guards approach. Sex with Wang Ming had been, at best, not too unpleasant. But that night she had exploded in such ecstasy that she had bitten Antonius on his shoulder to avoid crying out.
She smiled and touched herself under water, not for satisfaction, but just to see if she would be ready this afternoon, despite her aching fatigue. Her nipples came erect, little hard raisins seated on their crinkled aureoles, surrounded by a little ring of goosebumps. Yes, she would be ready. More than ready, as her schedule, besides making bathing a rare opportunity, had severely restricted their opportunity to make love.
She thought about Hina and Galosga. She wondered how her sister’s pregnancy was going, whether she stayed on with her zuun, of which she was so proud. They must now be where they had been heading, up north far away from the Han. She thought how much alike she and Hina were, though their lives had taken such different paths, both losing their families and having a harsh introduction into adult life even before they were women, neither forming any close friends, male or female. Hina had given her so much self-respect and confidence! And now Hina was stepping into the world of women for the first time, as confidently as she had stepped into the world of men a decade ago. Marcia wished she could talk to her again, but that was impossible. Their paths had merged, radically altered each other’s lives, then separated, never to meet again.
She thought of Marcus, his new love Mei, and Mama. Individual thoughts cascaded into a maelstrom of disconnected thoughts and then … “Hey, domina! Are yer goin’ ter stay in there till yer melt?” bawled Antonius from the entryway. She shook herself awake. She had fallen asleep, long enough for the water to lose some of its heat.
“Coming, love. Just enjoying a long hot soak!” She got out, dried, and put on the clean salwar that she had brought, bundling up the stinking felts for a well-deserved washing.
Aulus had bought three rooms upstairs for the group: one for himself with the other Greek speakers Gaius and Dim, whose Hanaean name had become his nickname, one for Ibrahim, Yakov and Shmuel, the Aramaic speakers, and one for the newlyweds Antonius and Marcia. Each room had four beds, the first beds for everyone in a year, except for Marcia and Antonius on their honeymoon. Aulus had arranged storage for unnecessary baggage, so the rooms were not cluttered. Marcia put her arm around Antonius’ waist as they climbed the stairs, leaning slightly on him. “Yer want ter be takin’ a nap, domina? I can wait, yer know.”
She smiled and turned to kiss his shoulder, “No, love, I can’t wait another minute, I’ve had to w
ait too long for you.” Then she giggled. “But if I start snoring, just finish without me!”
“Right, domina!” They reached the room on the corner of the second floor. Antonius tugged the door open, leaving it open for light… the room had no windows. He took down a lamp from a wooden shelf and fumbled with flint and steel to strike it aglow. Four beds covered with blankets and pillows faced outward from the back wall, one loaded up with their personal stuff. A small chamber pot sat in the corner, and a wooden table held a washbowl and water jug. The lamp flared into brilliance, and he closed the door. “I’ve seen bigger army cots! Give me a hand, girl, and let’s drag three of these together so we can have room to enjoy oursel’s.” Together, they maneuvered the remaining beds side by side. Antonius pushed experimentally on one. “Feels like wood underneath, but no matter. It’s not the ground!”
Marcia reached up, put her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers for a long, lingering kiss. They bodies pressed firmly against each other and she felt his manhood rise against her belly. No, not too tired at all! They spent several minutes clinging together, their tongues sparring with each other, their hands roaming over the expanse of each other’s bodies. Antonius slipped a hand under her salwar, creeping up the expanse of her bare back to explore the length of the hollow of her spine. His other hand joined it to explore her shoulder blades, then wandered off to find her breasts.
“Te amo, Antonie! Te amo!” Such a simple phrase, repeated so many simple times, and still as profound as the first time she said it on the road outside of Luoyang, when they should have been dead but weren’t. Antonius gently lifted the salwar over her head, and she slipped his off in return, then his breeches, letting them settle in a pile on the floor along with hers. Antonius reclined on the bed and she straddled him, feeling him enter her at once.
She rode him quickly, her excitement building into rapid thrusting as she tried to make up for the last few weeks, until the heat in her loins exploded. She pressed herself hard against him, trying to keep the pleasure going, then collapsed on his chest, panting and gasping. She kissed his throat, feeling his scratchy bristles against her lips. “Iterum, te amo, carus meus! Again, I love you, my dear!” Antonius stroked her gently to bring her down, then began moving himself, slowly at first, until he too convulsed inside her. They lay together, still coupled, stroking and caressing each other. Then she rolled off onto her back. “Whew! You kept me awake, not a bad trick. I can’t believe how tired I am. And angry about the bastards. All those extra shifts, me and Aulus! And they went out of their way to make them longer. Bastards, all of them!”
Antonius put his arm around her shoulder and cuddled her. “They were testin’ yer, domina. And yer did good. It’s what men do, when they get a new one and they aren’t sure he is a fit for the group. They rag him low and cunning, try to get him to quit. You especially. I warned yer about that. They just wanted to make you quit.”
“I know.” she asked, burrowing into his shoulder and putting her hand across his hairy chest to play with his nipple. “Bastards! I did everything I could to prove myself.”
She yawned, and rolled off to lay over on her side into a ball, facing away from him. “I’m going to get some sleep now. Don’t wake me for dinner!”
Marcia’s anger continued to simmer, but simmering soon turned into snoring. Antonius took a short nap, then got up, dressed, tucked a blanket over the sleeping Marcia, and slipped out quietly to join the others.
About an hour later, there was a loud banging on the door. The racket slowly penetrated Marcia’s consciousness, though she tried to ignore it. Whoever was banging kept it up. She shook her head, got up, and wrapped a robe around herself. Oh, yes, and grabbed her dagger. She went to the door and yelled through it. “Who the hell are you?”
“Marcia, it’s Farhad! The guards and I are going down to the bar and have a drink to wash the dust down. Would you and Antonius like to join us?” Farhad asked through the closed door in Bactrian. “Unless you’re too tired.”
Like hell, I’m too tired! “You men double my shifts, I learn how to not need sleep! Antonius is out, but I come. You men need lessons drinking!” she responded in her broken Bactrian. The unlikely invitation abated her anger a bit, but she remained suspicious of more ragging. “Give me moment.”
She slipped back into her salwar kamis, tucked the knife into its scabbard, and left a wax tablet for Antonius that read ‘Drinking with the guards, back when I get back, Love, M’. She opened the door to find all twenty of the guards clustered around the narrow walkway, many looking like they had already started drinking. “We go!” she announced, now enthusiastic.
“Hey, you don’t stink anymore!” said Farhad.
“Took bath. You should try one.”
The bar owner was a Hanaean about fifty, a bit portly in a red gown with black belt, washing utensils in a bowl when the entourage arrived. His thin eyes crinkled with glee as he smiled at the group, anticipating a profitable night. He had set up tables and chairs inside and out so everyone could sit, with a brazier nearby to keep the evening chill at bay and give some light. Boxes filled with several jugs of wine sat inside, indicating the bar would not run out. The men boosted Marcia up onto one of the tables, gave her a cup of wine, and the proprietor distributed cups to all the men. Farhad proposed a toast. “Marcia, you took all the shit we could give you, and you never quit. Here’s to the toughest Hanaean bitch I ever rode with!” The rest of the men chimed in and downed their wine.
Emotions surged up inside her. They are actually accepting me! Oh, girl, don’t cry, not now! “Well, here to sorriest bastards I ever rode with! You guys all right. Here!” She raised her cup, quaffing it in a single swallow. She held it out for someone to refill. “I get sloppy drunk tonight. Keep up with me!”
The party went on, periodically exploding in howls of laughter. Marcia recounted stories of Hina, seeking mates for her one-night stands. “Oh, pick me, pick me!” said one man, laughing uproariously.
Another asked if it was true that the Xiongnu gave their wives to strangers. “Well, you know, many cousins in encampment. Need fresh blood not related to them!”
“So did you ever see that?” asked one.
Marcia thought a minute and decided to improvise on a ribald story she had learned from Antonius. “Well, one time man come to camp, chan-yu give him his wife for night. Next morning, chan-yu say “Well, how was it?” Man answer, “Was great! She like too. She scream ‘na rushna! na rushna!’ Means ‘You great!’, or something, in Xiongnu?’”
Marcia paused for effect, then continued. “Chan-yu set down his kumis, look at man and say, ‘Means wrong hole!’ That caused the whole group to double over in laughter.
Antonius got back to the room about ten, found Marcia’s note and smiled. He dozed a bit, until a rap on the door about midnight. He opened the door to find the guards clustered around Farhad, carrying Marcia limp in his arms, one arm trailing, her head lolling on his shoulder. Some of the men carried lamps.
Antonius looked at her. “She all right?”
“She will be tomorrow. Late tomorrow, maybe tomorrow afternoon. Your wife can drink as good as she rides,” answered Farhad with a smile. “How do you keep up with her?”
Antonius laughed, took the comatose Marcia in his arms, and looked down at her lovingly. “Hard sometimes. Thanks, men, means much to her, you no idea how much.” He turned and went inside.
The Roman party spent thirty days in Kashgar, located at the western end of the Taklamakan desert on a high fertile plain, well-watered by three large rivers flowing out of the Pamirs to the northwest, surrounded by lush fields of rice, wheat, nut and fruit trees, melons and pasturelands. To the southwest, the massive snow-clad peaks of the Kunlun Range reared toward the sky. Kashgar was located at the junction of highly profitable caravan routes connecting with Ch’in to the east around the Taklamakan Desert, Bactria through the Pamir Mountains to the west, Sogdiana in the Ferghana Valley to the north, and India a
nd Tibet to the south. The wealthy city boasted a cosmopolitan population of several hundred thousand speaking a babel of languages, various dialects of han-yu, Bactrian, Parthian, even a little Greek, plus many more that the Romans could not recognize.
Kashgar was a manufacturing center for weaving, clothing, carpentry, pottery, iron and bronze work, all locally made in the industrial center. The Romans were quite taken by the coppersmiths, who swiftly and elegantly fabricated complex cooking utensils and teapots from flat sheets of copper, bending them around wooden forms and hammering them into shape. The smiths fabricated extensions for handles and pouring spouts, soldering them to the pot over a flame. When the basic utensil was completed, the smiths smoothed and polished the gleaming copper until no trace of the hammer dents remained, and the formerly battered copper gleamed like a mirror. Antonius bought Marcia a teapot as a souvenir.
Nearing the end of their stay, they were ready to move on. Jamshid had introduced them their caravan master Behzad and their new caravan leader Kambiz. A few days before Kambiz was ready to begin the trek west, he called a meeting with his drivers, guards, and Aulus’s party in the caravansary, conducted in Bactrian. Fortunately, a combination of forced immersion and Dim’s patient tutelage for several months had left them conversational, if not fluent.
Kambiz started with the situation. “I sent riders ahead last week to scout the passes. The snows are mostly gone and roads are fair, though a bit mushy, so we will leave at first light two days from now. I want to make good time on the plains, because going through the pass will be slow,” said Kambiz. “You Romans, watch your animals and yourselves at the top of the pass. Mountain sickness will make you dizzy and light-headed. Watch your animals’ footing. Drivers, we will be going with light profitable loads, mostly bulk silk for Bagram. Make sure it is tightly wrapped against the weather and getting dumped in the mud. I don’t want to lose any cargo due to mishandling. Mehrzad, security.”
The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China Page 58
