Field of Mars (The Complete Novel) (34 page)

The general turned to Rufinius and informed him: “Your camp is to be made here. The water is clean and I am assured your men will find many fish. I will have my vassals see to supplies of meat for the men and also grain and firewood. You cannot raise earthworks or walls or defenses of any kind, for Chanyu Zhizhi will consider this an offensive act and send archers against you.”

Rufinius didn’t like the thought of the legion unprotected by earthworks, but knew there were no options.

“I would further counsel your men to desist from drilling with sword or javelin. They are to appear as defenseless as lambs.”

Rufinius was about to resist when Saikan held up his hand and said, “My people have never seen an army such as yours and many will come to gawp and point. Men are afraid of what they don’t know. It would be wise for trust to be built quickly between Xiongnu and Roman. Be aware that there can be no accidents.”

Saikan had barely finished this advice when both men were led away as captives might be, accompanied by the escort.

Magnus sat on the ground, polished his cornu, and listened to the legionaries’ banter.

“What is it with these barbarians?” Libo wondered, as he organized his possessions against the side of the tent, making sure to keep his gladius close at hand. “Are we exotic animals to be gaped at?” He was referring specifically to a Xiongnu warrior with his wife and child upon a horse stopped nearby. All three of them were pointing and laughing at him.

“We’re the barbarians here, fool,” said Dentianus. “This is
their
land. Look at the way they dress and then look at us – our polished helmets and our red sagae. I guarantee you everyone you see riding around here has no notion that Rome even exists.”

“Your breath smells of shit, Dentianus,” interrupted Carbo, stirring the pot in which an aromatic stew simmered. “Every cunnus on Jupiter’s earth knows about Rome. We own the fucking world, don’t we? This little patch of turf here is a sideshow, as are these horse fuckers.”

“Think about it for a minute, if you’re capable,” Dentianus said. “We – this legion. We are the first Romans ever – and I mean
ever
– to see what we’re seeing.”

“What’s to get so excited about? Personally, right now I’d rather be seeing the inside of my favorite brothel back in Antioch.”

“I have no idea which one he’s talking about, but I’d prefer to be there too,” seconded Libo. “Even though, knowing my cheap little comrade as I do, it’s sure to be the nastiest flea-ridden fuck parlor to be found anywhere.” Libo sniffed the air. “That glorious smell. What is it? It has nothing to do with beans.”

“Horse meat,” said Carbo. Libo wandered over and stuck his finger in it for a taste. Carbo reached for his sword. “Do that again and you’ll lose it.”

“Where’d it come from?” Libo asked, ignoring the playful threat.

Dentianus also drew nearer to the pot. “Supplied by our hosts.”

Magnus spoke up. “The Xiongnu believe it to be an affront to their god that inhabits the Eternal Blue Sky not to feed guests who arrive at the front door.”

“Who told you that nonsense?” guffawed Carbo.

“Appias.”

Libo shrugged. No one argued with Appias when it came to useless information.

“Anyone seen Rufinius?” asked Carbo. “Do we save him some horse stew?”

“I saw him leave with General Saikan,” said Magnus. “They were riding toward the big round building.”

*

A squadron of horse archers dressed in white, the Chanyu’s personal guard, accompanied Rufinius and General Saikan. The mounted party rode past legionary masons already chipping away at stones procured for cenotaphs to be erected for the Romans killed on the march. The legionaries stood and saluted Rufinius who returned it and then the party turned away and merged with a procession of around twenty wagons, selected from among the multitude captured from the Han and also those bought from the Parthians, heading for Chanyu Zhizhi’s palace.

Two of the wagons were particularly familiar to Rufinius as they carried distinctive painted images on their sides and back, one wagon featuring the Red Whore and the other carrying depictions of the Black Whore’s expertise. Rufinius allowed himself a private smile knowing that, had he not acted, the wagon carting his wife would most certainly be among them.

The procession snaked along between rows of inquisitive men, women, children, and their dogs, and the circular animal-skin dwellings that housed them, the walls partially dug into the earth to keep them anchored in the face of strong winds. Everywhere cooking fires burned, flames dancing in the breeze. The air was thick with smoke and the smells of roasting meat and the acrid stench of feces – both human and horse – rising from a multitude of open slit trenches.

The procession passed through the merchant sector of the city where tented shopfronts sold a multitude of goods – pottery and animal pelts and beer, brass and copperware – to milling crowds. 

They also passed an open square where a small crowd had gathered. A piteous scream suddenly ripped through the air and Rufinius caught a glimpse of the crowd’s point of interest: a man who was strung between four straining horses had just had his arms torn from his body. A man came forward with an axe and separated the head clean from the remains of a shoulder.

“Horse thief,” Saikan explained.

Rufinius’s own spine tingled at the thought of such a punishment. “That is quartering?”

Saikan nodded, his face passive. “There is no requirement to lie prostrate on the ground in the presence of the Chanyu, for, in the great hall, men are equal. But do not speak unless spoken to.”

Rufinius nodded.

“Will I translate for you?” the general continued.

“If the General has no objection, I will not hide behind ignorance.”

The long line of wagons eventually turned into an open square in front of the grand circular building – the Chanyu’s palace – and drew up beside each other. Parties of men dressed in white silk overcoats and silk pants, the first men Rufinius had seen in Xiongnu who did not seem to be warriors, spilled from the building. They descended on the wagons and began ferrying bolts of silk, urns and chests containing multitudes of spices, as well as glassware, fine pottery, chests bulging with giant pearls and deep orange carmelians, gold and silver bars, fiery opals, and more into the building. The Red Whore was taken from her wagon, as was the Black Whore, the Xiongnu treating them regally, while others pointed at the illustrations on the painted wagons and laughed boisterously at their Chanyu’s good fortune.

The escort accompanying Rufinius disarmed him of his gladius and pugio while other Xiongnu stood close by with belligerent intent as if waiting for him to protest. Rufinius merely removed his helmet, tucked it under his left arm, and rearranged the clean white focale around his neck. He allowed himself to be directed into the building with General Saikan. Ahead of him walked Koulm, the Red Whore, dressed in a flowing silk gown dyed red as blood, and Jaha, the Black Whore. It was the first time Rufinius had laid eyes on her. She was tall and elegant, a creature of great physical beauty from the lands south of Egypt. She was adorned in a long white pleated linen dress pulled tight with a cord of gold to better show off her narrow waist. Cradled in her arms was a large ebony phallus.

As Rufinius neared the building he was aware of a crowd of revelers within, rowdy noise spilling through the structure’s wooden walls clad with felt to keep the heat in and the cold out. Along with the sounds of men feasting came the smells of heated male sweat, sour wine and roasting meats. Inside it was darker than outside, the vast open space needing more candlelight to chase away the shadows. When they entered, a great roar of delight welcomed the arrival of the captured women.

As Rufinius’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw many tables occupied by Xiongnu horse archers in their familiar garb. Huge pits of flaming coals roasted whole pigs, sheep, and calves. Musicians on a raised platform played instruments that appeared, to Rufinius’s eyes, to be large soup ladles strung with fine bowstrings, the squawking notes produced by them mostly drowned out by the shouts of men. Around the periphery of the hall were the banners of attending tribes, displaying a multitude of colors, patterns, and symbols.

Seated at the tables, men feasted. Meaty bones, and what were considered the lesser cuts, were passed along to vassals lower in social standing. Those on the very lowest rungs of the social order were forced to catch their share in midair before it landed on the filthy floor patrolled by snarling dogs.

Sitting on a raised platform at the head of the room was the Chanyu and several other highborn persons who were either family, kinsmen, or, at the very least, close advisors. Zhizhi’s chair was raised still higher than all others so that his considerable stature was further enhanced. He stroked his luxuriant red beard and regarded the approaching procession with a keen eye as General Saikan was ushered forward by the escort to give a commentary on the treasures brought for the Chanyu’s inspection.

“Great and wise Chanyu,” Saikan began, “as you can see the God of the Eternal Blue Sky has seen fit to shine on the endeavors I, Guli Saikan Chuluum, your humble servant, have undertaken for your glory. Accumulated before you here is but a small fraction of the wealth which is now yours to do with as you please.”

“First tell me of the women,” the dragon king said, leaning forward in his seat to better examine the two exotic creatures before him in the dancing candlelight.

“They are Pleasure Virgins, great Chanyu, presents from King Orodes of the Parthians. He wishes you the best of health and hopes that you exercise daily on these exquisite women. Both have been taught the arts of ecstasy by the most experienced courtesans in the harem of the Parthian monarch and have come to you unspoiled by men.”

Chanyu Zhizhi got up from his chair and came down to inspect the women who stood before him, eyes downcast. Both were tall, of a height the equal of the Chanyu’s, and young, being no more than eighteen or nineteen. Each was a truly exquisite specimen with clear flawless skin and breasts that were large without being overly so. Zhizhi smelled each in turn and was well pleased. He felt the texture of the hair on the head of the red whore.

“She comes from an island in a cold sea and her name is Koulm.”

“Koulm,” Zhizhi repeated, her name difficult for him to pronounce.

But it was Jaha who particularly interested him. He lifted aside her garment, which was spilt to the thigh, revealing that she was shaved clean in the Roman manner. What he found next took him by surprise, her cock hanging large and limp.

“What is this!” he exclaimed. 
He lifted the organ and his fingers found the vulva behind her sack and the woman smiled at him a most wicked smile.

“I have never seen a woman the color of night,” he said aloud, “let alone one of both sexes. Is she the product of magic?”

“No, great Chanyu. If you refer to her color, in the west there are many lands, some weak, some powerful, where all the men and women are black. But this one is special. Her name is Jaha, which means ‘dignity’, and your eyes and hands do not deceive you. Jaha is not the product of sorcery, though I am told, in the bedroom, both women have been schooled to make them bewitching.”

“And you are sure they are virgins?”

“Of course, Dragon King. I have had them checked and neither has been soiled!”

“This will be interesting. The beauty of a concubine, the cock of a man and the cleft of a woman. What are you?” he asked Jaha. “A he or a she?”

The question was translated. “In my mind I am a woman,” Jaha said in a voice both light and firm. “In the bedroom I am both.” She bowed and presented the large black phallus to him.

“Yes, interesting,” Zhizhi said and the tables of men nearby roared with bravado while others farther away stood and craned their necks to improve their view of this spectacle. When the noise faded the Chanyu asked, “Is there not a third present from King Orodes, Guli Saikan? I am informed there is a Golden Pleasure Virgin.”

“Sadly, great Chanyu,” Saikan replied, “the desert took her from your bed. She lies buried there. A wasting sickness. There was nothing that could be done.”

Zhizhi considered this news while he poked flesh and pinched breast. And all the while neither woman gave the slightest hint of protest or displeasure. “That is unfortunate. A woman of gold. I was most intrigued.”

“In truth, of the three the golden one was the least impressive. And at twenty-three, almost an old woman.”

Zhizhi smacked the Red Whore on the bottom playfully, signaling the end of the inspection. Several of the white silk men ran from the shadows and led the women quickly away, the tribesmen voicing their disappointment at this departure. The Chanyu turned to face Saikan and Rufinius and stepped toward them. “This is the general of the barbarian slave army?” He walked to Rufinius and held out his hand for the tribune’s helmet.

“I am not a general, Chanyu Zhizhi,” said Rufinius, handing the galea to him. “My rank is that of tribune. I control the legion’s movement to the advantage of my Lord General.”

“The barbarian slave speaks!” the Chanyu exclaimed, his wonder echoed throughout the hall with uproar.

“I have learned the language of the Xiongnu to better follow orders given by my masters.”

“What is your name, slave tribune?”

“I am Tullus Bassius Rufinius. I am also called Alexandricus.”

Zhizhi felt the weight of the helmet, tossed it underarm back to Rufinius and faced General Saikan. “Why should I accept this army that you have purchased in my name, Guli Saikan? I asked for soldiers who could fight as Xiongnu fight – on horseback. Parthian horsemen were what I sought. What am I to do with …” he gestured with distaste at Rufinius, “… this?”

The men in the hall loudly mirrored Zhizhi’s displeasure.

“Great and wise Chanyu,” Saikan began. “It is true that these Romans are unlike any soldiers fighting in our lands. But it is this very unfamiliarity that can be of great benefit. The weapons and tactics used by Romans are utterly unknown to our enemies and will catch them by surprise. These soldiers also build machines of war – machines that hurl large boulders and jars of burning pitch, or fire multiple heavy steel bolts, much like a giant nu.”

“What of the war between my Parthian allies and these Romans? Are these men who wear red cloaks winning or losing?”

“Your friend and ally, King Orodes, defeated the men of Rome. The legion I bought for you to command is the fittest and strongest of the survivors.”

“This is an army already bowed by defeat?”

“King Orodes is the first to admit that it was the desert itself, along with their god, that beat Rome, and certainly not his generals. But the Romans are fast learners. They will not make the same mistakes again. Rome itself is wealthy, arrogant and hungry for conquest, and one defeat will only serve to increase its determination to bring Parthia under its sway. Many of the goods we, along with the Han, send to the west find their terminus in the homes of the rich citizens of Rome. King Orodes is merely the middleman.”