The Tortoise in Asia

by Tony Grey

  “In your culture what is the most important instruction of all?”

  “When asked if there’s a single word for guiding behaviour, the Master replied it is “shu’, reciprocity. Most people think he meant you should not impose on others what you yourself do not desire.”

  “We have that too. Isocrates said it, almost word for word. That’s the foundation of our ethics. All morality stems from that and the law is meant to reflect it in a formal sense.”

  How can it be? It’s impossible for someone this far from Rome to speak these thoughts; they’re Greek. Kang acknowledges that he knows nothing of Mediterranean civilization yet he has just quoted three of the most important moral tenets of Graeco-Roman society – in almost exactly the same terms. They’re in the books Marcus carries. Every educated Roman knows them. Even more impressive, the insights were produced by one philosopher; Western culture required several.

  Kang gives the impression of one who actually lives the philosophy he speaks. Unlike Crassus who could quote at length and discuss with intelligence but then ignore most of it in the life he led.

  Kang quotes another aphorism, this one cutting, all the more so because it’s also what the Stoics hold.

  “Faced with what is right, to leave it undone shows a lack of courage.”

  Marcus passes no comment on this one. His failure on that count is why the Eumenides pursue him, He doesn’t want to go there with a comparative stranger, no matter how sympathetic.

  As more discussions while away the weary hours between winter and the time for departure, the sense of alienation begins to fade, like the wound’s pain in the healing process. There seems the possibility of a social connection with these people, not to be exaggerated of course, but still real. Living with them may not be as strange as first appeared, at least at the level where values lie. That could be built on over time to create positive relationships, even permanent ones. It’ll not be easy; the greatest difficulty will be how to determine whom to trust. The telltale behaviour necessary for discernment must be learned because, as in all societies, it’s often culture specific, based on conventions unknown to foreigners. In some cases it’ll be easy though; the signs will be so basic that even a foreigner can understand them. Kang seems to be an example.

  The conversation drifts into differences between people. Marcus admits that Romans are taught not to respect other nations, particularly those east of the Hellespont.

  “We call people who’re not Greek or Roman barbari, which implies they’re rough and uncultivated. The origin comes from when the Greeks first encountered people who spoke a foreign language. To them it sounded childish, like ba ba ba. I hope you’re not offended.”

  “No, I’m not. It’s understandable. We Han feel superior too, especially to the Hsiung-nu. Throughout the years we’ve called our country the Middle Kingdom because we consider it to be the centre of the world. The borders we have with others are merely to differentiate those who have not yet acquired our culture. We expect in time they will learn it and become part of us. In the meantime they’re benighted. If they’re willing to learn we offer respect; if they are not we withhold it.

  “However that’s not the full story. The Master teaches that men are close to one another by nature. They diverge as a result of repeated practice”.

  “Does that refer only to people the Han have encountered or can it cover all people, even those you don’t know exist?”

  “Without question, all people.”

  While the meaning of this is sinking in – so unroman a concept, the first case of a dissimilarity, Kang suggests they have a meeting with the Protector-General and the Colonel. Yesterday he picked up on something Marcus said about Roman military custom. The High Command has expressed an interest in it.

  Marcus feels a pang of expectation when Kang mentions this. It’ll be a good opportunity to strike up a rapport at top level. It’s important to do this in order to ensure the best conditions for his cohort. If they stay down at a junior level they’re more likely to be mistreated. At this stage it’s impossible to guess just what the Han have in mind for them. In the case of the Hsiung-nu, Jir-Jir needed some extra troops and the Romans could play a useful role; the Han are so numerous this factor might not apply. Anyway, after his discussion today he feels confident he’ll make a reasonably good impression. He looks forward to the meeting.

  CHAPTER 16

  On the way over to the Headquarters tent Kang asks Marcus to explain to his superiors the Roman custom for celebrating a victory. When they enter the grand structure, as large as Jir-Jir’s he introduces him. Gan says;

  “Yes I remember you. What have you got to say?”

  “Kang Guiren asked me to tell you what happens if Romans win a big battle. If we do that, the commander is awarded what we call a Triumph. He’s allowed to march his entire army through the city to a sacred hill on top of the forum – our market place. Along the way the troops carry pictures of the victory and the crowd applauds.”

  “Protector – General”, Kang says, “This is what I was telling you about. Wouldn’t it be worthwhile to have an artist paint pictures of our victory and send them to the Emperor?”

  “What an excellent idea,” Chen says. “It would impress the Court and help persuade the Emperor to pardon us. Nobody has ever done this sort of thing before.”

  Somewhat sceptical, Gan says, “Do we have an artist who can do it?”

  “Yes we do”, says Kang. “He’s very talented and would do a good job. He could start right away. Should be finished by the time we start our journey back.”

  “Will the Emperor really be interested in a picture? He might think we concocted it like we did with the bogus order. It could get us into even more trouble.”

  Chen takes two steps towards Gan, his hands coming out of his sleeves.

  “Protector General, everyone in the Palace will believe the picture is genuine. Why shouldn’t they? It’ll be accompanied by a detailed report. The report will verify it. We’ll send senior officers to Chang-an who’re beyond reproof to deliver it – at the highest level. The picture will add drama. There’s no doubt the Emperor will be impressed. He’ll love to actually see what the Far West is like. We must do it.”

  “All right, if you insist. I hope you’re right. Tell the artist to come immediately with his equipment. And request the mercenary officer to stay here and help him with his side of the story.”

  Within minutes Xi Bingwen arrives with brushes and a scroll of parchment. With wild grey hair and sloppy clothes, thin and slightly stooping, he looks as unmilitary as it’s possible to be. The poor man is a little out of breath, nervous, and without the slightest idea of what’s expected of him. A slave brings over a table. Chan says;

  “Xi Bingwen, you are to record our glorious victory in a painting. We will send it to the Emperor so he can appreciate our exploits more easily. Mercenary, would you please tell the artist how pictures are set out in a – what do you call it? Yes, a victory parade.”

  Marcus suggests that scenes of the battle be portrayed in separate paintings. Gan and Chen settle on the eight most prominent phases. Tentative and apologetic, Xi Bingwen asks permission to start out with rough sketches which he can expand later into proper paintings on silk cloth. That’s agreed and he begins with the first scene to see if he has understood the instructions. It’s clear from the few lines he draws that he has. Gan tells him to go ahead, aided by witnesses of the battle, including Marcus.

  ❧

  In a month, Xi Bingwen brings his finished work to Gan’s tent for a viewing. He’s taken special care for he knows he’ll be punished if his painting is not up to Court standard. He had to go through several scrolls of silk to get it right. A mistake on silk can’t be rubbed out.

  Kneeling on the floor, he unfolds the first scene from a continuous roll encompassing all eight pictures, each separated by a wide border. Everybody gathers round, the Han with their hands in their sleeves looking pensive. All are impressed, Marc
us included, even though the style is unfamiliar to him. Kang, who has studied art in Chang-an, says,

  “It’s an excellent piece of work. Vitality resonates in the texture and fluidity of the brush strokes, as required in the proper style. The shape and line of the forms correspond closely with what’s depicted. The colours are eminently suitable and the varied tones give a depth that draws the viewer in. I like the subtle layering. The most important thing is that it expresses the spirit of what he’s painting. All in all it gives the right impression of the battle.”

  The painting is surprisingly detailed, showing individual Han soldiers manoeuvring outside the town and coloured banners flying from the turrets. Hsiung-nu warriors are on the wall, fully armed and shooting downwards. But it’s the part near the gate that attracts the most attention. There, the Roman soldiers are standing in Testudo formation, their shields raised, alone and distinct from the others swarming around the battlements and the plains.

  Through this work of art, which even Marcus, who has little interest in painting, thinks is superb, the Roman presence among these mysterious people is certified, given legitimacy, even permanence. The painting’s silk is durable. It’ll be seen by the supreme ruler, the Son of Heaven, probably kept in the Palace archives for ever. The Han must have archives; Rome does and these people seem just as sophisticated.

  Like the Road, the painting forms a connection across the world, linking two civilizations so remote from each other that they exist in total isolation, like different planets. The artistic linkage will have a certain degree of longevity, if not immortality, for the Roman presence captured in paint will be studied by Han officials and scholars at the highest level, not only in this but also in future generations. They’ll learn of the adventure that brought Roman legionaries so far from their home. Unknown publicly in their own country, they’ll have a significance in a major foreign land, a place they’ve never seen but which they’ve been told has a capital city bigger than Bukhara and Samarkand combined. He’s pleased by the thought. Out here so far away from home, in a situation that may take him even further away, the little touch of Rome made permanent in these foreign lands gives a certain solace to the pain of his deracination.

  So far Gan has said nothing. He’s content to let Colonel Chen run the conference for it’s his idea that’s being put into operation. Gradually though he’s becoming more confident that the painting will do some good after all. Chen likes it but not all of it.

  “That part there looks like the scales of a giant fish, Chen says. “It’s an amazing sight but odd. Should we leave it in? It doesn’t really contribute to the glory of our victory. And the eunuchs at the Court might think it’s unrealistic.”

  If Marcus had understood the language he would have been dismayed.

  “Yes, I think we should have it in, definitely.” Kang says. “It adds to the authenticity of the record. Besides, the Emperor will be curious about it. It’ll fuel his interest. I think in fact it’ll create more praise for our achievement because it shows what strange challenges we had to face in penetrating so far into the unknown.”

  After some discussion, Chen relents and agrees to let it stay. Gan supports the decision. It’s just as well because Xi Bingwen has gone to a lot of trouble and silk doesn’t allow for any changes to be made. He would have to start all over again.

  Much relieved but showing no emotion, Xi Bingwen unrolls the next scene. Han soldiers are holding crossbows. The lethal weapons are drawn to the full and aimed at the Hsiung-nu horsemen charging at them. They retreat to the wall. Again it’s well received. The third scene however produces another spike in Marcus’ interest. With drums beating, the Han surround the town. On top of the earthen wall the artist has painted a double wooden palisade. All of this is faithfully recorded, leaving no doubt that the fortification is Roman.

  The rest of the silk scroll is rolled out to the approbation of the Han officials. In the remaining scenes the painting shows the investing of the town, the shooting of the Amazons on the tower and the beheading of the Sharnyu, all to the great credit of the attackers.

  “This is good”, Chen says, nodding his head. “We must send it to the Emperor immediately, together with a full report. I’m sure he’ll be impressed.”

  He asks Kang to translate into Sogdian.

  “That was a good idea you… what’s your name again?”

  “Marcus Velinius Agricola”

  “That’s too hard to pronounce. What shall we call you?”

  “You can just call me Marcus.”

  “That was a worthwhile idea you came up with. Thank you.”

  ❧

  The spring is sufficiently advanced for Chen to order the troops back onto the Road to tackle the great mountain barrier. Naturally he consults with Gan but only out of courtesy since it’s a military matter. Gan, who’s trying to keep his anxiety under control about what the Emperor’s reaction will be, agrees it’s best to get back to the fortress as soon as possible. Fear of the worst eats at his heart every day and he has difficulty sleeping. Visions of his execution come virtually every night. What will become of his family who’ll have to live in disgrace for the rest of their lives and in poverty after all his wealth is stripped away by the state? He marvels at Chen’s apparent lack of concern – takes some comfort from it.

  The army is smaller now. The contingents from the vassal states on the western side of the big divide have gone home. Good progress is made, uninterrupted by Hsiung-nu raiders, for the victory has pacified the region, at least for now.

  Marcus considers it worth trying to learn the language of his new employers. Hsiung-nu was too much of an effort for the rewards, but these people are more interesting, and language is the best entry into a culture. Kang is willing to help – and does what he can as a tutor but the task is daunting. No books exist so Marcus has to pick up words and grammar orally, bit by bit. There’s not the slightest similarity with Latin; even Sogdian is closer. And the tonal requirements scramble his brain. Anyway, with little else to do on the march, he persists. Ever of generous disposition, Kang praises his efforts. Eventually he learns enough to speak at a rudimentary level. It impresses Gan with whom he is striking up a rapport. He sees him as a gentle character and naturally friendly. Chen is more difficult; he seems a bit xenophobic, correct but distant. He would be a dangerous man to cross. It wouldn’t be easy to have a discussion with him that contained even a scintilla of disagreement.

  The other Romans are learning the language too; they know it’s likely their engagement with the Han will be long term, probably for ever, so it’s worth the effort. They didn’t have to bother with Hsiung-nu since the few words of Sogdian they had picked up were good enough to get along. Here, no one except Kang knows any Sogdian.

  The Road takes the home comers through the wild steppe again. For a while the direction is southward but then turns east. The potential boredom of the trek dissolves into the task of learning the difficult language and discovering more about the culture imbedded in it. Conversations with Kang, and sometimes with Gan, shed the layers, one by one, of preconceived notions about people outside the Roman imperium. It’s not a comfortable process for one with strong prejudices, but evidence is a powerful opinion changer. Anyway, there’s no doubt that his fate will be played out among these people. Better get used to it – become competent to live with it. That means effort, starting with the language.

  Despite the challenge, it’s a relief to come upon a civilized society – even such an unusual one. It generates energy for the task of making a life in it – maybe also tackling the art of happiness, which appears so remote now. Socrates seems to make the attainment of it a moral imperative, distinctly possible if it’s worked at. The inference is that life is only unhappy because of moral failure. Unhappiness can therefore be a badge of shame; he’s wearing it. Perhaps that’s a bit harsh. The defeat at Carrhae was enough to make anyone unhappy. Even Socrates would allow for overwhelmingly adverse circumstances to have a determ
ining effect. But in this case those circumstances have imbedded in them his failure of moral courage and that muddies the waters.

  The battle is in the past; so is the slavery. There’s an opportunity now to reassess life, see it in a more positive light. The wheel of fortune continues to revolve for him, sometimes into negative space, sometimes positive. The wise Solon was right to advise no one can be judged happy until their death – so ironic to think about it, for he gave the advice to King Croesus, the richest man in the world at the time, a man who, like Crassus, had a prosperous life but a dismal end at the hand of a military commander from the same country as Surena’s.

  What he can’t get out of his mind is his moral lapse in the tent, can’t separate it from the defeat no matter how much his reason tells him it would probably not have had anything more than a trivial effect. It magnifies the other times he failed to stand up for what was right. Even little cases come to mind, of minimal importance singly, but they add up. The Eumenides only visit him at night, but an underlying impression of their presence stays with him in the day, almost every day. It makes laughing seem awkward, even at jokes, for laughing is a release from guilt, something he’s not entitled to.

  The army marches towards the great mountain chain that Kang says has separated the Han nation from the rest of the world since before time. It’s a barrier that all attempt with apprehension, and many fail to cross.