Lü Bu Discusses the Stirrup (1)

It began with Uncle Huchuquan and Zhang Liao arguing. Though to call it an argument was generous — Huchuquan was the only one losing his temper.

"How ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about that, Liao! I can mount a horse now without a stepping block!"

This was still the late second century. The stirrup as I knew it did not yet exist — that hanging loop on either side of a saddle, made for a rider to plant his feet.

So how did people get on a horse? They vaulted up. Or, until they were skilled enough to manage that, they climbed aboard using a stepping block or a foot-loop — the crude ancestors of what would one day become the stirrup. Which meant Huchuquan's boast to Zhang Liao was really a boast about his own growing legs and strength. A boy's conversation, the kind where two lads compare how much they have grown and who can outdo the other.

The problem was that Zhang Liao looked thoroughly uninterested.

"Ah. Yes."

"What's with the 'Ah, yes'? What's that supposed to mean? Can you mount without a block?"

"It's a little difficult, yes."

"So you've got nothing to say after hearing that I, Luanti Huchuquan, have parted ways with the stepping block?"

"It's impressive, Your Highness. But your impressiveness doesn't improve my horsemanship."

"You— you— you...!"

Well. Ever since I had given the two of them leave to spar, this was more or less how every conversation between them went. The only beast I could still vault onto under my own power was a sheep. For horses I still needed a block or a loop, so I decided not to interfere.

Horses, of course, are remarkably intelligent animals. When I grunted and struggled, mine would let out something like a sigh through its nostrils and lower itself for me. In those moments it seemed almost human.

Come to think of it, modern civilization even had a game that turned horses into pretty girls. Being born Xiongnu and living a life among horses was... not unlike raising characters in that game, was it? The way we Xiongnu crossed Western Region bloodlines with other stock to breed superior warhorses felt a lot like taking the best traits of two well-raised characters and folding them into a new one's stats. Red Hare, the horse Lü Bu rode, came from a bloodline born exactly that way.

After finishing my duties as Grand Shaman-Khagan, as I always did — riding, tending the herds, drilling in martial arts — Liu Bei struck up a conversation.

"Those Western Region horses of yours are genuinely enormous."

"Ah. Larger than the Wuhuan horses, yes."

"You seem to be crossing the big ones with the small ones, breeding them larger with every generation."

Nobody in this world knew Mendel's laws of inheritance, but the common-sense notion that children resemble their parents was alive and well. Even Emperor Wu of Han had been delighted at the prospect of improving the empire's warhorses when he first obtained stock from the Western Regions.

"But if the horses get too big, those two over there... no, the prince of the Wise King of the Right and Zhang Liao — they won't be able to keep competing over who can mount without a block first, will they?"

Hmm. He had a point.

"From what I've seen here... the Han people you've settled among the Xiongnu have a hard time riding. If you put them on a horse from childhood, like Zhang Liao, that's one thing. Try it after they're already grown and they flounder."

"That's why we have stepping blocks and foot-loops."

The one who answered Liu Bei's question was not me. A massive figure had come up behind us without our noticing. My master. Lü Bu.

When had Lü Bu and Liu Bei first met in the original history...?

In the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, their first encounter is the duel at Hulao Pass, where Lü Bu faces Liu Bei and his two sworn brothers. Before that comes the scene at Sishui Pass, where Guan Yu takes Hua Xiong's head. But in truth, whether at Sishui Pass or at Hulao Pass, Liu Bei and his brothers never met Hua Xiong or Lü Bu at all.

For that matter, Sishui Pass and Hulao Pass are the same place. Call it Sishui Pass if you name it for the Si River that runs nearby. Follow the old legend of a Zhou Son of Heaven's pet tiger kept in a cage there, and it becomes Hulao — the Tiger Trap. Dwell on the fact that Emperor Gaozu, Liu Bang, fought Xiang Yu on that same ground, and you may as well call it Chenggao.

Liu Bei never fought a battle at Hulao Pass. After the Yellow Turbans were put down he bounced between posts no higher than County Commandant or County Assistant, then either thrashed an Inspector or simply resigned because he could not stand the posting, over and over. Even so, he kept joining campaigns against rebels, kept scraping together just enough merit to be given office again, and kept repeating the cycle.

Then one day, without warning, Liu Bei received a County Magistrate's seal — a full rank above anything he had held before. A man who had spent years shuttling between the civil aide's desk and the military aide's post, suddenly a magistrate. How?

I suspect that was when Liu Bei met Cao Cao in Luoyang. His next move was to go down to Qiao County in Pei State, Cao Cao's ancestral home, and raise troops alongside Xiahou Dun and the rest of that clan. Liu Bei had caught Cao Cao's eye, and the magistrate's post was the reward — but Emperor Ling, Liu Hong, died almost immediately afterward. He Jin was killed. Yuan ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Shao slaughtered the eunuchs. Dong Zhuo marched into Luoyang. The political ground heaved and split. So Liu Bei never actually took up that magistracy. He joined the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition as Cao Cao's man instead.

Doesn't he join under Gongsun Zan in the Romance? He does not. Gongsun Zan, as it happens, never particularly made an enemy of Dong Zhuo. Gongsun Du, whom I had met at Goliu County, was appointed Administrator of Liaodong on Dong Zhuo's orders — and Gongsun Zan simply waved him through, no questions asked.

At any rate. How far did Liu Bei advance under Cao Cao? All the way to Xingyang, a little east of Hulao Pass. Anyone who has enjoyed the Chronicles of Chu and Han will know exactly how Xiang Yu and Liu Bang tore at each other around Hulao — Chenggao — and Xingyang. Xu Rong, the Liaodong native I had met as Gongsun Du's hometown senior and on whom I had placed a debt through Lü Bu, took the field there as one of Dong Zhuo's generals. At the Battle of Xingyang, Cao Cao and Liu Bei were utterly smashed by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Xu Rong and fled. Cao Cao ran to Yuan Shao in Henei. Liu Bei decided the coalition was a lost cause and went over to Gongsun Zan.

Which means Lü Bu and Liu Bei did not look each other in the face until around the year 195, in Xu Province. While Lü Bu was under Yuan Shao he faced west, fighting the Black Mountain Bandits. While Liu Bei was under Gongsun Zan he faced southeast, clashing with Yuan Shao's forces around Qing Province. No occasion to meet. If I stretch a guess, they might have glimpsed each other during the upheaval in Luoyang in 189, when Lü Bu still served Ding Yuan. But that, too, was later than now.

In other words, I had accelerated the meeting of Lü Bu and Liu Bei by an enormous stretch of years.

"Ah."

Liu Bei made that vacant sound at the sight of Lü Bu's face, then collected himself and offered a proper greeting.

"I've heard a great deal from my elder brother Bogui. They say Lü Fengxian is the valorous general who made the Xianbei army tremble..."

"The ones who trembled were us, running for our lives. Not the Xianbei."

The air between them was not exactly warm. A clash of temperaments, perhaps. Or maybe Lü Bu simply did not care for Liu Bei's loose, unbuttoned look.

"Ah — I am Liu Bei. Courtesy name Xuande."

"And what is it Xuande wishes to discuss?"

Ah. Talk of how the Han struggle to ride could easily grate on a man whose job was training Han cavalry. I stepped between them at once.

"We were talking about horse breeding, Master."

One of Lü Bu's eyebrows climbed. Liu Bei seemed more startled by the word Master than by anything else.

"Master?"

"Who else would I have learned martial arts from?"

"Don't Xiongnu children learn from their own households?"

"They do... but I'm something of a special case."

Lü Bu asked again, as if he had not heard a word of the exchange between Liu Bei and me.

"What about horse breeding, Bao?"

"If you keep crossing them with bigger horses, the foals will come out larger with every generation. We were wondering whether that wouldn't make it harder to mount without a block."

"Mm."

Lü Bu folded his arms and thought, then spoke.

"Mounting you can manage one way or another. The real problem is somewhere else."

He slapped both thighs with his palms.

"If these are weak, you can't stay on a horse."

I thought of the exchange Wei Xu and Guan Yu had traded. If Wei Xu's legs or waist had been even a fraction weaker — or if Guan Yu had been even a fraction greener — the instant their weapons met, someone would have come off his horse. And that cavalryman Liu Bei had beaten down, come to think of it — without stirrups, he had probably been hauled out of the saddle by Liu Bei's own hands.

"It isn't only about wielding a weapon. When the moment comes that you have to drop the reins, you pass your will to the horse and feel the horse's will in return — and you do all of that with these thighs."

Without a finished stirrup, a rider's feet simply hung. The horse had to be governed entirely by the strength of the thighs, or the knees, and by the finest shifts of weight. The bigger the horse grew, the harder that method would become.

Lü Bu's gaze drifted somewhere between west and south.

"I heard this from a merchant out of Liang Province. Beyond the Western Regions, in Sindhu — India — their cavalry have a device you can hook a big toe through."

That, I suspected, was a primitive form of the stirrup.

"But whether you're Han or Xiongnu, if you rode barefoot in this country... if you rode with nothing but a toe hooked in, you'd lose that toe soon enough."

Which was precisely why a stirrup you could plant a whole foot in was needed. Liu Bei seemed to have reached the same thought.

"Then why not make one that takes the whole foot? Plant both feet and you'll spend less strength when you swing a weapon, and you'll be less likely to come off the horse."

Lü Bu shook his head.

"If you want footrests hanging off both sides of a horse, you need a proper saddle first. A saddle sturdy enough that no amount of standing in those rests will crack it. I mostly ride on a pad myself — hang loops off the sides of that and either the pad tears or the horse's back gives out."

Red Hare with a ruined back. I did not want to imagine it.

"Can't a saddle be made?"

"To make a rigid saddle, the horse has to... horses are just like people. Some will put up with anything. Others are impossible to please."

Lü Bu was talking more than I had expected. Had living among the Xiongnu given this man from Wuyuan Commandery in Bing Province such a deep interest in horses?

"If you don't make it exactly to their liking, they'll raise hell."

"What if you took it to a skilled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠craftsman? It would cost a fortune, I'm sure, but if you could get one made somehow?"

"Then you'd have a different problem."

This time I was the one who asked.

"What problem?"

"Bao. You're asking me that, with those two right there?"

Lü Bu jerked his chin toward Huchuquan and Zhang Liao.

"Our foot-loops hang off one side of the saddle or the pad, and we only use them until people who aren't used to horses get their bearings."

In modern terms, they were the training wheels on a bicycle. Leave them on and no one will ever grant that you can actually ride. Huchuquan's pride in mounting without a loop meant the reverse as well: rely on those loops — on stirrups — and you were considered a rider with no real skill.

And yet I wanted the stirrup adopted. Ever since a conversation with Liu Bei had called Western feudalism to mind, I had been thinking more and more about cataphracts — heavy cavalry. A rider and a horse sheathed entirely in armor. To bear that weight, the horse had to be large to begin with. And to put the whole body's force behind a charge, you needed stirrups.

The saddle problem Lü Bu had raised was bound up with falling, too. Fail to seat a rider's hips properly and the moment of impact would throw him straight back over the horse's rump.

But inventions born of necessity have a way of catching their ankles on custom. How hard had King Wuling of Zhao fought just to put his cavalry in trousers?

Perception. How do you change the way people see a footrest — a stirrup?

...Why was I making it so complicated? The answer was standing right here.

"What if a man of outstanding martial skill, a man people already respect, showed them the power of a footrest in actual combat?"

Lü Bu's brow furrowed, just slightly.

Lü Bu among men, Red Hare among horses — that was the saying, wasn't it? What I wanted was Iron Pagoda Lü Bu. Guazi-horse Red Hare. A cataphract Lü Bu, lance couched under his arm, charging astride a barded Red Hare.