Wolf Totem: A Novel (43 page)

The horses slowed down, shying away from the sight as they approached Batu, who was sitting at the foot of the mountain smoking his pipe. The two new arrivals dismounted and saw a pair of untouched carcasses next to Batu; another pair was being torn apart by the dogs, who were sprawled on the ground, eating voraciously. Erlang and Bar were each feasting on a leg. The boars beside Batu were smaller than full-grown domestic pigs, no more than three feet long, and sparsely covered with spiky bristles. Their snouts were twice as long as domestic pigs’. They were fat, and with teeth of average length, they didn’t look particularly intimidating. There were fang marks on both their necks.

Batu pointed to the ravine. “The dogs picked up the scent of wolves and chased the boars all the way over to that ravine, where the ground was full of holes and bumps. We saw the carcasses of three or four boars that had been killed and eaten by wolves, and the dogs stopped there, not wanting to go after the wolves. Instead they followed the scent of the boars down the ravine, flushing out a group of piglets. Big boars have tusks and run like the wind. The dogs wouldn’t go after them, and I didn’t dare fire at them, since I didn’t want to alarm the wolves. The dogs eventually killed these piglets, so I let them have the two that were the most chewed up. The other two are for us.”

Bao Shungui rested his foot on one of the dead boars. “Good job,” he said with a smile. “The meat on this young one will be nice and tender, and delicious. I’ll treat you all to some good liquor tonight. Apparently, there are wolves around here, and it would be a good idea if you men go out tomorrow and bag a few.”

“These boars came from a forest hundreds of miles from here,” said Batu, “where there are lots of them. They followed the river to get here. If not for the wolves, they’d have destroyed this grassland a long time ago.”

Sanjai’s wagon pulled up and they loaded the carcasses. Batu signaled the men to let the dogs keep eating their kill while the hunters returned with the wagon. Since the bonfire was ready by the time they made it back to camp, they immediately gutted, skinned, and filleted the larger of the two boars. Before long, the fragrance of barbecued meat filled the air. Taking Bao’s lead, Yang Ke wrapped some lean meat in fatty lining, which produced loud sizzles as it cooked, and an aroma that beat anything they could get from domestic pigs. While the others were preparing the animal for cooking, Yang had picked wild onions and garlic and leeks; he’d learned the primitive method of barbecuing meat on the grassland, spicing it up with wild herbs, and was feeling quite proud of himself. Having seen the swans and the herbaceous peonies before Chen Zhen had a chance, and having learned how to barbecue boar out on the grassland, he could, when they got back to the yurt in camp, boast a bit about his rare sightings and the mouth-watering food.

As for Bao Shungui, while he was treating the hunters to good liquor, he regaled them with tales of imperial feasts where swan was served. They shook their heads, and he soon lost interest. The hunters ate only ground creatures, since they revered anything that could fly up to Tengger.

The hunting dogs returned to camp to patrol the area. The men, having eaten and drunk their fill, stood up and put the remains of the boar into a metal wash basin. Except for the heart and liver, they tossed the organs and the head onto the grassy ground for the dogs’ next meal.

Just before nightfall, Yang Ke went alone to a spot where he could observe what was happening on his swan lake. He sat down, elbows on his knees, and, through his telescope, drank in a sight that could well disappear before long.

Ripples appeared on the lake surface, those in the west mirroring the cold blueness of the night sky, while those in the east reflected the warm colors of sunset. The ripples spread slowly, concentric circles of agate red, emerald green, translucent yellow; then came crystal purple, sapphire blue, and pearl white, alternating cool and warm, the tones of noble quality. The view that spread out before him seemed to augur the sad yet enchanting death of the swans. Tengger had sent down the precious lights as a prelude to the parting of its beloved swans from the clear waters.

The ripples continued their slow march, like the overture to a tragic drama in which the audience can hardly bear to watch the lead actor. Yang wished that the ballet about to unfold would have a natural background and that the lead actor would never appear. But from amid the inky green reeds, one swan after another glided out onto the lake, its multicolored surface and the canopy of sky above creating an enormous stage. The swans had changed into blue evening wear, which turned the yellow spot on the crowns of their heads a cold purple. Their graceful, curved necks looked like bright question marks, questioning heaven, questioning earth, questioning the water, questioning people, questioning all living creatures on earth. They moved silently, then waited for answers. But none were forthcoming. The reflecting ripples on the surface shimmered slightly, transformed into their own question marks, until a breeze splintered them amid the light of tiny wavelets.

Yang thought he and Chen were undeniably the luckiest Han Chinese alive. If the brute force and wisdom of the wolves somehow grew even greater, perhaps they could further delay the expansion and encroachment of men and their livestock on the grassland. The driving force behind that expansion was a society of Chinese farmers whose population was out of control. Yang was deeply moved and deeply saddened. He was also deeply grateful to the wolves. Their imminent defeat would be the first sign of the grassland’s defeat, and the defeat of man’s concept of beauty. Tears blurred the lens of his telescope. The pristine swan lake faded slowly into the distance...

The next day the hunters went up into the mountain and searched one ravine after another, but came up empty. The day after that they went deeper; by afternoon, men and horses were exhausted. Then Bao Shungui, Batu, and Yang Ke heard a gunshot ring out not far away. They turned as one in the direction of the noise and spotted a pair of wolves on a ridge to the east. The animals were running and stumbling up the mountain, and when they discovered that there were men here as well, they turned and ran around a promontory. Batu trained his binoculars on the spot. “The main pack is long gone,” he said. “Those two lagged behind, too old to keep up.”

“Who cares?” Bao said excitedly. “Young or old, two pelts mean victory however you look at it.”

As he took off after the wolves, Batu mumbled, “How could he miss the fact that they haven’t shed the old coat on their back half? What a shame.”

Hunters and dogs ran up the mountain from two directions. One of the wolves was large, the other smaller. The front left leg of the larger wolf could not stretch out straight when it ran, which probably meant a torn tendon from a dog bite during a previous battle. The second wolf was an aging female, bony and old-age gray. When Bar, Erlang, and the other hunting dogs saw how old and crippled they were, they slowed down. All but one young adult male, that is; wanting to get the jump on the others, he took off at full speed, ignorant of what could happen.

The wolves ran into an area where the weathered surface created a complex terrain of outcroppings and loose, shifting layers of rock. Every step sent crumbling rock noisily down the mountainside. The going was too hard for the horses, so the hunters dismounted, rifles and poles in hand, and closed in from three directions.

The male wolf dashed over to a precipice about the size of a couple of tables, three sides of which were walls of stone; the only escape was a steep slope down the mountain. So it backed up against one of the walls, a shrewd and ruthless glare emanating from its rheumy eyes, took a deep breath, and readied itself to fight for its life. The dogs formed a semicircle, growling and barking, but holding back, fearful of losing their footing and falling over the side. Then the hunters arrived. Bao was delighted with what he saw. “Don’t anybody move,” he said. “Watch me!” He took the bayonet off of his rifle, rammed a bullet into the chamber, and went up to get a clear shot.

But no sooner had he reached the line of dogs than the wolf sprang from the precipice onto a slope with loose rocks, digging in with its claws and flattening out against the rocky ground to slide down the mountain, carried by the flow of rocks. As the rocks pressed into its body, a cloud of gray sand quickly swallowed the wolf up, all but buried it.

The men walked gingerly up to the edge of the precipice and looked down. When the dust settled, the wolf was nowhere to be seen. “What just happened?” Bao asked Batu. “Was it killed or did it get away?”

“What difference does it make?” Batu said glumly. “Either way it’s one pelt you’ll never get.”

Bao stood there speechless. Then loud, persistent barks from the dogs guarding the cave opening reinvigorated him. “There’s still one more,” he said. “Let’s get back there! One way or the other, we’re getting a wolf today.”

The hunting party reached the cave, which had been formed by erosion and was a refuge for all sorts of grassland animals. Petrified eagle droppings were visible on many of the rocks. Bao Shungui scratched his head as he sized up the cave. “Damn!” he said. “If we try to dig it out, there’ll probably be a cave-in, and we can’t smoke it out, because there are too many places where the smoke will dissipate. Any ideas, Batu?”

Batu probed the cave with his lasso pole. The sound of shifting rocks emerged. He shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do. The only thing that moving the rocks will do is bring them down on us and the dogs.”

“How deep is the cave?” Bao asked him.

“Not deep,” Batu replied.

“Then I say we smoke it out,” Bao said. “You fellows gather some sod. After we light it, we stop up any holes where smoke comes out. I brought some pepper along. That’ll drive it out. Go on, now, all of you! Yang Ke and I will keep watch here. If a hunting party with the best hunters can’t bag a single wolf after three days of trying, we’ll be a laughingstock.”

The hunters split up and went looking for kindling and dry sod, leaving Bao and Yang at the cave entrance. “This wolf is old and she’s sick, skinny as a rail. She hasn’t got long to live, that’s for sure. Besides, a summer coat has soft fur, and the purchasing station won’t be interested. I say let her go,” Yang said.

Bao’s face darkened. “I tell you the truth: people are no match for a wolf. I’ve led soldiers into battle, and there’s never been any guarantee against desertion or rebellion in the ranks. But why would a wolf rather die than come out of that cave? I’m not afraid to admit that the Olonbulag wolves are fine soldiers, that even the wounded, the old, and the females can strike fear into a man. But you’re telling me that no one wants a summer pelt, which proves there are things you don’t know. Back where I come from, no one uses a pelt with thick fur as a blanket, because you can get a bloody nose from overheating while you sleep. A light coat is everyone’s favorite. Don’t go soft on me now. In war it’s them or us. You need to back your enemy into a corner and then kill him, giving no quarter.”

Batu and some of the others walked up with bundles of dry branches; Laasurung and his party came up grasping the hems of their deels, which held sod. Bao piled the kindling up at the mouth of the cave and lit it, while the hunters knelt beside the fire and fanned the smoke into the opening with the hems of their deels. Thick smoke poured into the cave and seeped out between gaps in the rocks. The hunters began plugging up the holes with sod. It was a scene of frantic activity amid the sound of coughing, as smoke emerged from fewer and fewer gaps.

Bao Shungui threw a handful of half-dried peppers onto the fire, sending clouds of acrid smoke into the cave; the men and their dogs stood upwind. The cave was like the grate opening of a gigantic stove, and pepper smoke soon engulfed it. The hunters had left two small gaps unplugged to release wisps of smoke. When coughs from the old wolf emerged from inside, the hunters gripped their clubs, ready to strike; the dogs were prepared to pounce. The coughs grew more pronounced. But no sign of the wolf. Yang Ke was coughing so hard that tears were running down his face. “I can’t believe her capacity to endure,” he said. “Even the threat of death couldn’t keep a human being in there.”

Suddenly, the rocks slipped three feet or more, opening up gaps through which the smoke poured out, and before long smoke was emerging from all around. Several boulders broke loose and crashed down the mountain, barely missing the hunters who were fanning the flames. “The cave is collapsing,” Bao cried out. “Get out of the way!”

The coughing sounds inside the cave stopped and there was no movement. Peppery smoke billowed skyward instead of entering the cave. “It looks like you lost again,” Batu said to Bao. “You were up against a suicidal wolf. She loosened the rocks around her and buried herself. She wouldn’t even give you her coat.”

“Start moving rocks!” Bao barked angrily. “I’m going to dig that wolf out of there if it’s the last thing I do.”

Having worked hard for several days, the hunters stayed seated. Batu took out a pack of cigarettes and passed them around. As he handed one to Bao, he said, “Everyone knows you’re not hunting wolves for their pelts, but to eradicate what you consider to be a scourge. She’s dead, so you got what you came for, right? There are only a few of us here, and we could dig till tomorrow and still not get to her. We’re witnesses to the fact that you led a hunting party against a pack of wolves, killing two big ones, sending one over a cliff and suffocating the other in a cave. And don’t forget, summer pelts are pretty much worthless.” He paused, looked around, and said, “Are you all okay with that?”

They said yes. Bao, who was as tired as everyone, took a drag on his cigarette and said, “All right, we’ll rest awhile, then get out of here.”

Yang Ke stood stunned in front of the pile of rocks, as if a falling rock had driven his soul out of his body. He seemed about to kneel down and pay his respects to the Mongol warrior inside, but he just stood there stiffly. Finally he turned and asked Batu for a cigarette. After taking a few drags, he raised the cigarette over his head with both hands and bowed deeply toward the rock pile, then reverently wedged the cigarette between a couple of rocks, part of an apparent grave mound. Wispy smoke rose into the air, taking the old wolf’s soul skyward, up into the blue, to Tengger.