Huchuquan
What on earth had they brought the nine-year-old youngest son out here for?
To show off his virility?
…Then again, I was hardly one to talk. I had followed Lü Bu all the way to the front at five years old.
Still, I had a justification. I was a shaman who heard the voice of Tengri. What did the youngest uncle, Huchuquan, have to his name?
Son of Luanti Qiangqu. Younger brother of Luanti Yufuluo. Well — in Southern Xiongnu society, that was a fairly solid backing. So he ought to have been holed up in some palace-tent in Lishi County or Meiji County. What was he doing out here?
And look at those eyes. He could not command that kind of attention himself, and it plainly drove him mad that I came and went from our great-grandfather's ordo. The words of praise I had heard spoken of myself had surely reached Huchuquan's ears as well. From his side of it, of course he would be jealous — a nephew barely younger than himself, hogging every scrap of the grown-ups' affection.
But I was wary of Huchuquan for an entirely different reason. In the original history I was trying to prevent, he would become my rival.
Great-grandfather Tute Ruoshi Gongzhu Chanyu would die from the aftermath of this war. Granduncle Hozheng would become Chanyu, only to be murdered after falling out with the general who had been restored as Colonel Protector of the Xiongnu. Grandfather Qiangqu, sitting right in front of me, would take the throne in turn — and die when Xubu Chang raised a rebellion. Father Yufuluo would become Chanyu of the exiled Xiongnu and wander the circuit of Sili until the end of his days. And after him, the youngest uncle Huchuquan would succeed.
…And that was where the trouble began.
In about forty years — the year 216 — Chanyu Huchuquan would answer Cao Cao's summons and go to Ye, the capital of Wei. By then the western commanderies of Bing Province would have been abolished, and the Xiongnu people scattered across Bing's remaining five commanderies and Hedong Commandery in Sili. Chanyu Huchuquan and his Xiongnu would be drafted to follow Cao Cao against Sun Quan at Ruxu Ford, and live as mercenaries whose only change of master was from Han to Wei.
And me — Luanti Bao. Or rather, the man who by then would be called Liu Bao. What becomes of him?
In the historical record, the Xiongnu Liu Bao's movements are first clearly attested eighteen years from now, in 195. The year Li Jue and Guo Si trampled Chang'an into ruin, and Emperor Xian, Liu Xie, seized the chaos to escape. That was when I — the Xiongnu Liu Bao — seized Cai Yan, a woman left alone after losing her father in Chang'an, and took her as a concubine.
According to the original Xiongnu Liu Bao's memories, he later split from Huchuquan and garrisoned Shang Commandery. Taking in Xianbei scattered by civil war, he grew his power and stood opposed to Huchuquan in the east of Bing Province. Only in the 250s, when I was around eighty, would I finally succeed in uniting the Xiongnu who remained free of the Han — beyond the borders of Wei and Jin. But I was far too old. I died having accomplished nothing.
I — the man from a later age — know what came after. The scattered Xiongnu bands submitted to the Sima clan's Jin dynasty, mixed and mingled with Huchuquan's line, and then rose again with the birth of new heroes.
There was one who used the Liu surname, rose up calling himself King of Han, and claimed descent from me — the Xiongnu Liu Bao.
Liu Yuan.
He would open the age of the Five Barbarians and Sixteen Kingdoms. The state he founded would burn Luoyang and humiliate Sima Yi's descendants.
Meanwhile, other descendants remained in Shang Commandery and across the Hetao Plateau, mixed with the Xianbei. A mixed Xiongnu-Xianbei tribe that took a new name: the Tiefu. They would abandon the Liu name and call themselves Helian. And following the myth that after Xia's fall a royal clan fled north and became Xiongnu, they would found a state called Northern Xia.
In that sense… if I thought only of later glory, simply walking the original Xiongnu Liu Bao's path would not be so bad.
Even if that meant seizing Cai Yan — heaping still more misery on a woman already drowning in it?
The original Xiongnu Liu Bao's strange obsession, his stubbornness, his remorse, churned through my mind. Before the hell the monkey-demon had shown me, there was the hell I myself would inflict on her… and it stabbed a corner of my chest.
Shameless. Did I even have the right to feel remorse?
I had given her two children. I sold her because I feared Cao Cao's power. Terrified that Cao Cao might ride out from Lulong at any moment and take Tadun the Wuhuan king's head at Mount Bolang — terrified he might just as easily come crashing into Shang Commandery — I handed Cai Yan over. I tore two children from their mother forever.
And I dared? I dared?
I… the problem is not going to hell. I should not be hoping for my descendants' glory. In my own generation, I have to save her…
"Bao. Bao!"
Father Yufuluo's voice, calling as if in a whisper, snapped me out of the remorse. Grandfather Qiangqu and Lü Bu were staring straight at me. Huchuquan wore the look of a boy who had just seen something deeply strange.
Ah. Right. From what I had half-heard, Lü Bu, Qiangqu, and Yufuluo had been discussing how to cooperate in the coming battle.
"Heh heh. Has our grandson been listening to Tengri's voice again?"
It was an age that believed epilepsy and seizures were the hearing of a god's voice. Qiangqu could hardly be blamed for thinking so as he looked at me. I simply nodded. Just as my great-grandfather meant to use Tengri's authority, I would use it too — as far as I possibly could.
And I laid out the plan I had already prepared. A plan, coordinated with Lü Bu, to keep as many Xiongnu warriors alive as possible.
"Please gather as many horses of Red Hare's bloodline as you can into a single unit — or if not those, any horse with a red coat. And they must be placed under Lord Lü's command."
"Red horses…?"
Yufuluo looked puzzled. I nodded and answered.
"When Modu Chanyu surrounded Gaozu, the founding emperor of Han, at Baideng Mountain—"
I glanced sideways at Lü Bu, who was Han. He did not seem bothered. I pressed on with the proposal.
"—when he surrounded him, he stationed horses of four colors on every side of Baideng Mountain."
White horses to the west, blue-grey horses to the east, black horses to the north, red horses to the south. In other words, it was possible to organize units by the color of their mounts.
"Gather as much red leather and cloth as you can, and fasten it around the horses' necks, chests, and forelegs. Ah — animal bones as well."
Stirrups. Saddles built for stirrups. This was an age that had none of those things, so horse armor was still in its infancy. So we would improvise.
"So that's why you've been riding out to battle in red, beside Lord Lü all this time?"
Father Yufuluo said it with something like wonder. I let him believe it.
That's right. A heart that has already recoiled at the sight of Lü Bu will recoil again at a red Xiongnu cavalry. Once the enemy feared Lü Bu and Red Hare, even this sorry excuse for barding — leather and cloth — would carry a little weight.
"The unit you send forward takes the charge with spears and blades. Behind them, horse archers cover the flanks with their bows. That's the formation."
I had taken a formation the Jurchen Jin would one day employ and reshaped it, as best I could, to the local conditions of the second century. Twenty cataphracts leading the charge, thirty horse archers covering them — the Jin army's tactic, built around fifty-rider squadrons.
The nomad tactic of striking and fading with horse archers was not invincible. And it was not unique to the Xiongnu. The Xianbei could use it too. That way, the Xianbei — more numerous, and commanded by a hero named Tanshihuai — would certainly win. So we had no choice but to find another way.
We had no time to train like a Jin army, and neither the technology nor the resources to field true heavy cavalry. All we could do was a clumsy imitation.
Right Wise King Qiangqu asked,
"And by this, Tengri will grant our Xiongnu victory?"
"No."
I shook my head firmly. Yufuluo and Lü Bu already knew — they had heard it from me. Qiangqu and Huchuquan looked thoroughly shaken.
"Hey."
Someone called from behind as I turned back with Lü Bu. Older than me, but still a child's voice. The youngest uncle. Huchuquan.
I turned, making sure every scrap of cloth and leather, every bell and bone I wore, flared and clattered as I did. Lü Bu stopped as well, standing to watch the two of us.
"You…"
"What is it, Uncle?"
Young Huchuquan faltered. I had overwhelmed him. He had been expecting the reaction of a five-year-old child, after all. But I addressed Huchuquan the way I would address the Grand Chanyu, the Left Wise King, the Right Wise King, the Right Luli King. The courtesy due an adult. And that, just a little, had frightened the child Huchuquan.
"Th-that thing. If I want to do it too, what do I have to do?"
That thing?
I tilted my head and looked into Huchuquan's eyes. His fear rose, more and more, across his face. Was the thing standing in front of him his nephew Bao, barely younger than himself — or Lord Tengri, dwelling in that body? He could not be sure.
For a moment, a little malice slipped into my heart. I wanted to show this innocent, arrogant child called Huchuquan what I had seen from the monkey-demon. A pity I could not.
"I am nothing more than a vessel. Something that carries Tengri's voice so that human ears can hear it."
I had gone on about Tengri, but it was true enough, in its way. A tool for realizing the scenario the monkey-demon wanted to see — the Xiongnu Liu Bao seizing hegemony over half of the Central Plains. Wasn't that what I was, right now?
I looked at Huchuquan's speechless face and let my thoughts turn. Let me run the numbers. A way not to stand opposed to Huchuquan. A way not to split the Xiongnu a second time, after they would already be weakened by Grandfather Qiangqu's death. If my mere presence on the battlefield lifted the Xiongnu warriors' spirits, perhaps the same could be true of Huchuquan. Planting a seed in Huchuquan's heart — that much should be possible.
"For now, Uncle, concentrate on becoming a great warrior."
"Huh? Th-that just now…"
"Yes. Those are Lord Tengri's words."
"I can become a great warrior?"
"If you strive for it. But if you don't, even Tengri will turn His face away."
For a child who was not even ten, that much was just right. Look. Huchuquan's face lit up at once. He still had a child's face left in him, after all.
"I'll strive for it!"
I nodded, then turned away once more, letting the shaman's presence billow around me. The sound of Huchuquan's excited running faded into the distance.
Lü Bu looked at me and said,
"One marvel after another. He's older than you, no question — and you handle him like a child."
"…It's Tengri who handles him. Not me."
Tanshihuai summoned the Wuhuan leaders Qiu Liju and Nanlou to his command tent. The moment they entered and made to offer formal respect, Tanshihuai stopped them himself.
"Chanyu of the Xianbei…?"
At the title Qiu Liju had used, Tanshihuai gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"No. Just call me elder. I am no Chanyu."
"But I style myself Chanyu. And here…"
Qiu Liju gestured at Nanlou. Nanlou took it up.
"I style myself king."
"That doesn't matter. I — we Xianbei — did not come here to rule the Wuhuan. I know well how meaningless that would be."
It was not merely a speech meant to win the Wuhuan's goodwill. These were men who had sided with the Xianbei because they hated Han rule. If the Xianbei now tried to play the overlord in turn, they would only be taking a risk upon themselves.
Tanshihuai had decided to let the Wuhuan loose. To let the beast called Wuhuan slip its chain and run wild. While showing a little friendship.
"We were originally one house. Then the Xiongnu drove us out — our people hid on Mount Xianbei, yours on Mount Wuhuan — and so we became Xianbei and Wuhuan."
"Th-that's so."
Qiu Liju and Nanlou conceded the point, but they wondered why Tanshihuai was saying this. Even among the Wuhuan, it was a story as distant as myth.
Until Tanshihuai's next words came.