– a little older and perhaps a trifle more shopworn then when he last saw them, but they had lost none of their enthusiasm for the trade of Aphrodite. They still knew how to work their way to the center of a man's attention and it had little to do with food. Casca was gone, but life went on. Ortius wished the Roman well and with the aid of the two sisters, drowned his sorrows with a rare vintage of 50 year old Lesbos wine.
Chapter Seven - BROTHERHOOD OF THE LAMB
The flickering red glow of a distant flame told of the presence of men. Casca and the boy had seen no sign of life for the last two weeks. The limits of the Roman Empire were now far behind, past even the boundaries of the divine Alexander. The city of stone and mud-baked bricks that bore his name marked the end of his conquests. Here the Jaxartes River turned from the mountains to flow northward to the Aral Sea from the land of Han. From Eschate the Silk Road ran all the way to Rome, but there also was the wild country, filled only with danger for the unwary man or beast.
Occasionally, roving bands of savages would sweep down from the steppes ravaging along the way, like monstrous locusts, leaving nothing in their path. Tartars, Huns and Mongols – along with lesser nations composed only of herds of horses, sheep and people: they were only a little better than their beasts and then only by the degree of cruelty they relished, that was unknown to the animals of the world.
As Casca wrapped his cloak closer about him, the scent of brush and dry air reached his nostrils. The slender form of Jugotai standing beside the pack horse stood out in marked contrast to this barren world of stones and rocky gorges. With every league into the wild lands, the boy seemed to grow taller. The closer they came to his tribal lands, the more his self-confidence increased. Fourteen years old as near as he could figure, he was a wild mop of black hair handing in a windswept mane to his shoulders, and anthracitic eyes. The chill of the night did not seem to bother him at all; indeed, he breathed more deeply, filling his chest with the dry wind.
During the weeks with Casca, he had already started to put some meat on his bones, especially those sticking out from his rib cage and chest. He was going home, to the lands of the Yueh-Chih. The boy had been caught and sold by nomads when he was ten, to the placid farmers of Armenia for two copper pieces and a bent sword. The farmers being no match for the wild-spirited youngster, breathed a sigh of relief when he ran away, taking only a donkey for transport. The Hsuing-Nu forced his people out of the Kansu corridor 440 years before and forced the tribe to flee to Bactria for safety. Not until the time of the Emperor Wu Ti and his general, Pan Ch'oa, were the Yueh-Chih able to build a nation known as the Kushan. This was their destination, the gateway to the wall that ran forever.
Though Jugotai's tribe was wild, they had been heavily influenced by the envoys and trade with the Han Empire. They were also excellent horsemen, a fact easily demonstrated by Jugotai's ability to ride circles around Casca.
It was now time for the boy to return to his tribe. He was of the age to face the rites of manhood and nothing would stand in his way – save death itself.
The distant yapping of a pack of desert jackals came with the wind. The pack horse whinnied softly and was instantly quieted by his young master, a gentle hand and soothing hiss served to let the beast know all was well. Jugotai watched Casca with silent noncommittal eyes. The big man confused him. He had a blend of fierceness he had seldom seen equaled by the best of his tribe and a gentleness seen in some of the teachers who came to his people from the lamaseries to teach the words of Buddha.
With a nod, Casca indicated the path from the craggy hillside leading to the gorge where light was glowing and flickering. Ordinarily he would have bypassed the beckoning flame but as they were
Chapter Seven - BROTHERHOOD OF THE LAMB
The flickering red glow of a distant flame told of the presence of men. Casca and the boy had seen no sign of life for the last two weeks. The limits of the Roman Empire were now far behind, past even the boundaries of the divine Alexander. The city of stone and mud-baked bricks that bore his name marked the end of his conquests. Here the Jaxartes River turned from the mountains to flow northward to the Aral Sea from the land of Han. From Eschate the Silk Road ran all the way to Rome, but there also was the wild country, filled only with danger for the unwary man or beast.
Occasionally, roving bands of savages would sweep down from the steppes ravaging along the way, like monstrous locusts, leaving nothing in their path. Tartars, Huns and Mongols – along with lesser nations composed only of herds of horses, sheep and people: they were only a little better than their beasts and then only by the degree of cruelty they relished, that was unknown to the animals of the world.
As Casca wrapped his cloak closer about him, the scent of brush and dry air reached his nostrils. The slender form of Jugotai standing beside the pack horse stood out in marked contrast to this barren world of stones and rocky gorges. With every league into the wild lands, the boy seemed to grow taller. The closer they came to his tribal lands, the more his self-confidence increased. Fourteen years old as near as he could figure, he was a wild mop of black hair handing in a windswept mane to his shoulders, and anthracitic eyes. The chill of the night did not seem to bother him at all; indeed, he breathed more deeply, filling his chest with the dry wind.
During the weeks with Casca, he had already started to put some meat on his bones, especially those sticking out from his rib cage and chest. He was going home, to the lands of the Yueh-Chih. The boy had been caught and sold by nomads when he was ten, to the placid farmers of Armenia for two copper pieces and a bent sword. The farmers being no match for the wild-spirited youngster, breathed a sigh of relief when he ran away, taking only a donkey for transport. The Hsuing-Nu forced his people out of the Kansu corridor 440 years before and forced the tribe to flee to Bactria for safety. Not until the time of the Emperor Wu Ti and his general, Pan Ch'oa, were the Yueh-Chih able to build a nation known as the Kushan. This was their destination, the gateway to the wall that ran forever.
Though Jugotai's tribe was wild, they had been heavily influenced by the envoys and trade with the Han Empire. They were also excellent horsemen, a fact easily demonstrated by Jugotai's ability to ride circles around Casca.
It was now time for the boy to return to his tribe. He was of the age to face the rites of manhood and nothing would stand in his way – save death itself.
The distant yapping of a pack of desert jackals came with the wind. The pack horse whinnied softly and was instantly quieted by his young master, a gentle hand and soothing hiss served to let the beast know all was well. Jugotai watched Casca with silent noncommittal eyes. The big man confused him. He had a blend of fierceness he had seldom seen equaled by the best of his tribe and a gentleness seen in some of the teachers who came to his people from the lamaseries to teach the words of Buddha.
With a nod, Casca indicated the path from the craggy hillside leading to the gorge where light was glowing and flickering. Ordinarily he would have bypassed the beckoning flame but as they were
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