Jugotai looked at Casca as if he were utterly mad, but said nothing. He would wait until they crested the next rise to wash… where the hot springs were. Had he not told Casca of them?
Jugotai lay back to catch a nap while the horses ate and rested. Rolling over, he put his face into the grass and breathed deeply. The land of his fathers… he was here. Soon he Would be a man, entitled to wear the curved sword and shave his head, leaving only one long lock to show all that here was a man ready to take a wife.
Ten
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 sunstreaked 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 arid 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 hall 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 Jugotai. 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."