Casca 3: The Warlord (6 page)

Casca was still pissed at Jugotai for not telling him of the hot springs and was relating his displeasure to the youngster's obvious amusement, when an arrow buried itself into the limb of the juniper under which they were sitting while giving their beasts a break. Turning to Jugotai, Casca observed dryly, "I think your cousins have arrived."

Jugotai rose in his saddle and called out in a tongue Casca was unfamiliar with, though it was reminiscent of the tones Shiu Lao Tze used when he got excited – which had not been often.

"Peace brothers, I am Jugotai, son of Chu Shan of the Tribe of Kitolo, come home. This is my friend and travel companion. Be not disturbed by his appearance. He is not deformed. All from his lands have such big noses and red skins."

The unseen warriors came out of the conifer treeline some three hundred yards away. Casca whistled between his teeth. "That's one damned fine bow shot."

The riders galloped up closer while several kept their distance, bows ready. They were sturdy, well-muscled and of compact build with the look of men who took their calling seriously. Most wore hides of sheepskin with the wooly side out, though several had armor resembling that of the Parthian bronze scaled jazerins and helmets of conical steel rimmed with fur. Their faces were dark from years in the sun and wind. Curved swords hung in leather scabbards with brass and bronze fittings. Their leader rode closer to speak with Jugotai. A black mustache hung below the chin of this man who appeared to be nothing but a mass of wiry knotted muscles, grafted to his horse's back.

Many questions followed with much head bobbing and gesturing. Finally the leader smiled and thumped Jugotai on the shoulder, then called his men who formed an escort on either side as indicated by him with his sword.

Five days they rode across the plains and valleys. They spotted many packs of wolves and once a spotted leopard who took off for higher ground when the riders thundered around a bend in a gorge. Villages dotted the countryside. These were strong people with great pride. Every man was a warrior if he was able to sit in a saddle.

On the dawn of the fifth day they reached their destination, a city lying in the valley between two huge mountains. A deep river came from the east, turned south to where it was joined by another from the west. At this juncture, the city lay in the basin.

The leader of the warriors noticed Casca's wandering eye and pointed to the river from the west.

"Kabul." And then to the one from the east. "The Indus." The great rocky pass they passed through served as a natural barrier to any attackers who would have to fight their way through the wild tribes charged with the security of the valley. Many of them had blue eyes and sun streaked hair, almost blond, a striking contrast to their swarthy complexions, several times Casca heard what sounded like Greek words mixed with the native dialects.

Jugotai told him many of the people were descendants of the soldiers of Alexander the Great after the Greeks conquered them. They still held they were superior to any other peoples because of their
now fading bloodlines. No one had ever completely dominated them; the best kings could do was to make treaties with these people – they left the canyons and mountains alone in exchange for their guarding the mountain reaches against any invaders.

The pass was 80 miles from the junction of the river. The countryside reeked of poverty and hardships. In contrast, the city they entered showed great refinement and culture, the people were well dressed and the markets full of goods and food. Such was the way it had always been.

They entered through a massive gate that could be closed instantly if the ropes holding the gate to the winches were cut. Three axemen stood ready at all times to do just that. Soldiers were in evidence everywhere. In the city they wore more uniform clothing and had the look of professionals about them in comparison to the wild horsemen who escorted Casca and Jugotai.

Nishka, the warrior leader, called out to the guard commanding the approach to the city. Instantly an armed escort was provided to guide them through winding streets, past vendors' stands and workers in brass and gold. They passed statues carved in the hillside of a huge man, slightly fat with a placid look on his face and long dangling earlobes. Jugotai pointed to one of them: "Buddha." The escort motioned them to dismount at the steps of the palace where a new escort was obtained after questioning the city guards and the hill tribesmen. Walking past a line of more smiling stone Buddhas they passed through one ha
ll after another until they were shown into the presence of a man of obvious importance.

As they entered, Jugotai performed kowtow while Casca took a good look at their host seated behind a beautiful table carved of ebony and inlaid with scenes of great workmanship. The entire table glistened with fine lacquers of black and gold.

Tsin-tai, first secretary to the King of Kushan, Kidara III, was familiar. He was of the race of Shiu Lao Tze. His movements and the grace of his manner as he dismissed the palace guards again reminded Casca of Shiu Lao Tze. He had the same indefinable age of Shiu Lao, his face a wreath of gentle wrinkles. Overlooking Casca's lack of courtesy, he spoke first to Jugotati. His dark eyes sparkled when Casca's name was mentioned in Jugotai's story of their journey and difficulty in reaching Kushan.

The counselor motioned with a graceful sweep of his hand for Casca to be seated while he finished his questions. Food was brought. Most of the fowl was familiar and there was what looked like beef along with a thin chalky wine.

By the time the meal was finished Tsin-ta'i had given Jugotai permission to go with the servant but motioned for Casca to remain. Jugotai showed no sign of anxiety at this as Casca remained sitting until the counselor had regained his chair.

Playing with a large ring of intricately carved stone of pale green coloring on his finger, he spoke: "Ave Roman, welcome to Kushan." Laughing gently at Casca's shock at hearing Latin spoken, he explained, "We are not so far distant that some travelers do reach us from time to time.
Always the restless ones, the searchers or the driven. Which are you, my big-nosed friend?"

Casca smiled, the ice broken with the familiar title Shiu Lao had given him many times, bringing a warm remembrance of his teacher whom this man in the blue silk robes so resembled.

The counselor continued. "The boy Jugotai will have what he wishes and be sent to his tribe in the south where he will become a man and enter the warrior class. As for you, how may we be of service? It is the way of the Buddha that travelers must be given aid and shelter as was he. To those our friends, we are welcome hosts, to our enemies we are what we must be. Regretfully, we cannot always respond in a gentle manner. But for you, who have returned a son to us, we are grateful. I feel the boy will grow into a man of importance one day; already he has shown great courage and now, if he learns wisdom, he will be of value to the Empire. Men of both courage and wisdom are scarce and must be treasured.”

Thinking this over, Casca answered slowly. "Long ago I met a man from a place he called Khitai beyond the Indus. He said that one day I should go there. Perhaps as you said earlier, I am one of the driven. I have reached the Indus and now must go to Khitai, wherever that is."

Tsin-ta'i smiled and took a sip of wine from his lacquered cup. "What was the name of the man who told you this?"

"Shiu Lao Tze."

Tsin-ta'i stopped in mid-swallow.
“Shiu Lao Tze?" Casca nodded. "Yes, lord."

Tsin-ta'i sat silent for a moment holding his fingers together, the points of his polished nails touching his chin. Then he spoke softly. “Shiu Lao Tze died over two hundred years ago. He was a great teacher and gentle man: I would not like to think you are using a name you picked up on the road frivolously." The warning was thinly veiled....

Rising, the counselor indicated that Casca was to follow him and led him out of the room and deep into the interior of the palace down into the cellars carved from the mountain....

Guards became fewer as they progressed until finally there were none at all to be seen. Tsin-ta’i led Casca into a room lit with oil lamps, a library filled with scrolls and documents, many of which were sheepskin and even a large number of Egyptian
papyrus. Tsin quickly scanned the markings on a number of scrolls and then selected one.

He unrolled the parchment carefully, almost reverently. "Roman, this is the chronicles of the travels of the sage Shiu Lao Tze." Placing the parchment on the table, he quickly scanned the rolls. Sucking his teeth, he turned to Casca. "What is your full
name?"

"Casca Rufio Longinus."

Sighing, Tsin set the scroll aside and rubbed his eyes. "Turn your face," he ordered and held the lamp up to see
better. "Yes, the scar is there. Sit down, Roman."

Casca did as he was bade, opposite the counselor.

Tsin pointed to the scrolls. "Your story is there. When Shiu Lao returned to his homeland after many years among the barbarians, he spent three years here, teaching. In that time, he wrote the story of all he had seen and experienced. His story of the Roman soldier condemned to live by the Jew called Jesus we took to be but the wanderings of the aged mind. But you are here, and if you are who you say you are, then it is indeed a wonder. The ways of the gods are inscrutable and we can only play
the part our fate dictates. I believe the best thing I can to is to help you on your way, but not to Khitai as you wish to go. Khitai is where Shin Lao Tze was born and lived as a child, but the land of his father's birth, and where he studied, is now known as the Chin. Before it was known as the kingdom of the Han dynasty but has since been broken into warring nations – the two most important, eastern and western Chin – it is to the western Chin you want to go. Now, we will find a suitable place for you and will talk more of what must be done to speed you on your way. The problems you present are more than I can deal with; I am not the great scholar and teacher that Shiu Lao was, only a poor bureaucrat. In the land of Chin, you will find scholars and wiser men than myself."

Taking the scrolls he led Casca back through the labyrinth of passages to his offices. Casca was turned over to the palace major-domo and shown to the rooms that would serve him for the time he remained in Kushan.

Tsin-ta'i welcomed his guest and made him comfortable. With his own hand, he poured tcha and then dismissed all others, leaving the two of them alone. "I have thought the last two weeks on your plight and desires and feel that my original inclinations were correct. It is best for me to help you on your way. But, before you go, it should be understood what you are going to and know something of the people of whom I am honored to be counted, though here I serve the Lord of Khosun."

From beneath the rosewood table, Tsin took a scroll like the ones Casca had seen in the dungeon library, and carefully laid it on the table.

"These are the writings of the scholar and historian, Ssu-ma Ch'ien. Over four hundred years ago, one Chang Ch'ien was sent by the Emperor, Wu Ti, to negotiate an alliance with a far tribe living beyond the boundaries of the Hsuing-nu. He was captured along with his servant and spent ten years as prisoner of the Hsuing-nu. After escaping, he made his way to this very place. Here he found the Yueh-chih who had been driven from their homelands by the Hsuing-nu and taken this place for their own. When the Yueh-chih came to this land, they first conquered Bactria, which still held
to much of the culture of the Greeks, even to their art and writings. Here he found friends. To the south were other great nations not known to the people of Chin. Here too, he found goods from the southern provinces of the Empire of Wu Ti. The lands from which these goods came was then called the Shen-tu, far to the south and east where the inhabitants go to battle on elephants and live along a great river. For this information, he and his servant were honored. Though their original mission to make a treaty with enemies of the Hsuing-nu had failed, he found here other friends and the news that there was a great land close to the southern provinces. Chang Ch'ien was given high office. Even his faithful servant was rewarded with the title of Lord Who Carries Out His Mission.

"After leaving here, Chang Ch'ien was once more captured by the Hsuing-nu, but this time was able to escape after only a year's captivity and finally made his way to the Jade Gate, which guards the western end of the Wall from barbarism. The scholar Ssu-ma includes a description of that route and that is the one I think you should take. There is another route – the Silk Road runs all the way to the markets of the west – but to reach it from here would take you far back to the north. Taking the route of Chang Ch'ien, you will intercept the road at Ho-T'ien on the southern margin of the Tarim basin. An oasis is there that has given the city wealth and its placement on the Silk Road will supply you with more current information as to what is occurring in the Empire. A point of interest – Ho-T'ien is fed by two rivers which descend to the basin from the Kunlun Mountains. They form one river and then join and disappear into the sands of Tkla-Makan except for a couple of months when it may reach the Tarim River if the season has been sufficiently wet."

Taking yet another scroll from beneath the table, Tsin laid it carefully out, using a couple of alabaster ink pots to hold the ends down.

"This is the map of the way to the Jade Gate."

The map was exquisitely drawn, the work of a master – the high and low regions were in different colors as were the rivers and deserts. Tsin pointed one polished nail to a spot on the chart.

"We are here. The Indus comes from the north and that will be the beginning for you. Follow the Indus. You will go through great gorges and valleys and the way will be difficult many times, but keep the river always to your right. The Indus will turn south again when you see the great peaks of the Naga Parat rising above all others. To reach the clouds, go another three hundred miles march and the Indus will then be joined by the Panglong Shoa. Follow the Panglong Shoa which will be the branch on the north for another one hundred miles and you will reach the trail leading north through the Karakoran pass and thence to the last of the mountain passes before you descend to the Tarim. Suget pass will be the final marker that you have left the highlands behind and will soon reach the Silk Road. You will know when you are on it by the bones of those who failed to survive the trek. Turn to the east once more and in three days you will reach Ho-T'ien. From there, the way is well known and you will have no trouble reaching the Jade Gate."

The exquisitely drawn scroll attracted Casca like a magnet. The beautifully drawn mountain ranges and rivers seemed to sweep him up into them.

"How far to the Jade Gate?"

Tsin looked at the border of the map and the confused squigglings that made up the writing of this people.
"Something over two thousand miles."

"When do I leave?"

Tsin grinned gently. "Even now your animals are being prepared and supplies gathered. In the morning you will leave and to tell you the truth‚ I will be glad to see you go. I have the feeling that trouble is never far behind your steps and we have enough of that here, already with the Hsuing-nu pushing from the north and the savage tribes to the south. It may be that our days are numbered already. If that is so, I feel no need to rush them by having you remain here any longer than necessary. Nothing personal you
understand, just good business.

"I will have a simpler form of this map prepared for you to aid you in your travels and letters to the Emperor which will give you messenger status. Now, I have the business of the Empire to attend to."

Returning to his rooms, Casca sat on his bed and went over his gear, such as it was. He needed little and any extra weight from luxury items would not serve him on the trail. Back to basics: weapons, food and clothing. Nothing more. The nights would be cold but the sheepskins would serve to cut out the icy wind. Two thousand miles.

"Good enough. I have gone much farther than that already. I wonder if those crazy bastards from the Brotherhood are around." His wrist twinged at the remembrance.

Taking his horse and pack animal through the gate, he rode out onto the plain in front of the city of Kush. Casca crossed the bridge of wood and rope that spanned the Indus. There he gave one long look back, then settled his ass firmly in the saddle with the knowledge that he had a long way to go. A distant sound came to him from the rear.

Turning to look back, he saw a figure coming after him over the swaying suspension bridge. Reaching the solid footing of the opposite bank, Jugotai yelled to Casca to wait. The boy rode like a devil,
swinging from one side of his horse to the other, swooping down to pull clumps of grass from the ground and then sliding under his horse's belly to appear on the other side and back into his saddle.

"That little bastard can really ride," Casca thought. “But that is the ugliest horse I have ever seen."

Jugotai's mount stood only about eleven hands and was covered with shaggy matted hair that dropped in clumps where he was losing his winter coat. The beast was as common looking as a pariah dog. Jugotai's head was clean-shaven save for the long scalp lock swinging behind him.

The curved blade swinging at his side meant business, not play. "Ho, Roman," he called as he reigned his horse to a dead stop, leaping from its back to stand in front of Casca.

Grinning, Casca said, "It's good to see you, Jugotai. I had not thought we would meet again before I left. I see you have gained that which you sought."

The boy smiled, dark eyes flashing. He pulled himself up to his full height and stuck out his chest which had started to put some meat on it and no longer resembled a starved chicken breast so strongly.

"Yes, and I have a wife now to bear my sons to fight against the Hsuing-nu."

Casca dismounted and took the boy's hand in the Roman manner of holding the wrists.

"I am pleased and happy for you. You were a good friend and travel companion. I wish you were going with me, but I know that Tsin-ta'i has plans for you here. But, who knows, perhaps we will meet again one day. I must return and if the gods are kind, our paths will cross once more."

The boy's dusky face lit up with pleasure.

"Roman, take the saddle from your mount and put it and your gear on mine. This is my gift to you."

Casca looked from his sleek roan gelding to the runty, shaggy beast that Jugotai wished to trade.

Catching his look, Jugotai laughed. "I am not going to rob you, Roman. This fine animal you ride now will not serve you half as well as this tough nasty tempered one I wish you to take." Jugotai thumped the horse on the rib cage listening with a cocked ear to the hollow thump that issued forth.

"This miserable creature was bred and raised in the mountains and can live on dirt alone for weeks and go without water for days in the desert. He is like us of the Yeuh-chih; perhaps not as pretty as the refined nobles of Rome, but we can go the distance after the fine bloods have dropped over from bad food and water. Believe me, you will not regret the exchange."

The shaggy beast rolled his eyes around and Casca took a good look. The little bastard seemed to be pretty tough.

"Well, Jugotai, if you say he's the horse for me, then so be it." They swiftly changed saddles and gear. Casca swung himself up into the sheepskin-lined saddle, his feet almost reaching the ground. The nasty looking horse gave him only one dirty look and ignored him while eating the bark from a tree, even though young grass was easily available.

Jugotai swung into his saddle with the grace of an acrobat and turned the horse's head back to the bridge, whirling his blade above his head. He reared the horse back on his hind legs and cried, "Ride well, Roman. The road is before you. Remember you have friends among the tribes of Kushan. Be not a stranger." With that, Jugotai raced back over the bridge and out of sight.

Days came one on the other as Casca followed the torrents of the Indus through gorges that seemed to drop into the bowels of Hades and rise until he thought it would be possible to touch the stars overhead. Jugotai was
right, his cruddy little beast had the agility of a mountain goat and could eat anything, including a portion of one of Casca's tunics he left lying too close to the beast, while he fixed his meal for the day.

Lacking anything better, Casca named the horse Glam, after his old friend at the hold of Helsfjord. There was a resemblance; both were tough and shaggy and had an intelligence that their appearance belied.

Several times Casca met small caravans heading to the lands of the Kushan. From these he would receive information as to the trail ahead. Twice he stopped at what served as an inn for the tough and daring folk of these highlands where he tried as best he could to develop a taste for the fermented mare's milk and curds that the wiry inhabitants smacked their mouths over with such relish. At night they would huddle together in a mass of snoring, foul smelling bodies. Each would transfer a number of his vermin to those sleeping next to him. Their bed was a large flat stone inside the inn, beneath which a small fire was kept burning to provide warmth. They were a happy folk with great attention paid to manners, almost to the point that it was impossible to talk straight to them.

Weeks passed and Casca finally reached the junction where the Indus was joined by the Panglong Shoa. The two formed a raging muddy torrent where they merged. The great peaks of the Naga Parat were far behind and now the trail passed through ranges that would lead to the desert.

Kicking Glam in the sides with his heels he turned north. Glam never failed him, even when he slept on his back. The horse seemed to have unlimited endurance and would continue on placidly ignoring the man on his back as if he were carrying no more than a feather. In the heights of the Karakoram pass Casca ate his pack horse and smoked enough of the remaining meat to last him for another week, which should see him through and beyond the Suget.

Finally the Suget side of the pass showed the veins of the mountains, red streaks and bands of granite, massive slabs where the alternating heating and cooling of the mountain made cracks that finally split and let the boulders break away to leave fresh scars that the winds and time would smooth away in a few centuries.

Four days more and Casca looked out over the basin of the Karim, stretching, it seemed, forever. The descent from his present height of eight thousand feet to the floor below was quick and uneventful. The trail was worn and the thicker air made him almost drunk after his months in the thin air of the Kushan and Indus valleys.