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XIONGNU
OXFORD STUDIES IN EARLY EMPIRES
Series Editors Nicola Di Cosmo, Mark Edward Lewis, and Walter Scheidel Roman and Local Citizenship in the Long Second Century CE Edited by Myles Lavan and Clifford Ando The Dynamics of Ancient Empires: State Power from Assyria to Byzantium Edited by Ian Morris and Walter Scheidel Rome and China: Comparative Perspectives on Ancient World Empires Edited by Walter Scheidel Trouble in the West: The Persian Empire and Egypt, 525–332 bce Stephen Ruzicka Sui-Tang China and Its Turko-Mongol Neighbors: Culture, Power, and Connections, 580–800 Jonathan Karam Skaff State Correspondence in the Ancient World: From New Kingdom Egypt to the Roman Empire Edited by Karen Radner State Power in Ancient China and Rome Edited by Walter Scheidel The Confucian-Legalist State: A New Theory of Chinese History Dingxin Zhao Cosmopolitanism and Empire: Universal Rulers, Local Elites, and Cultural Integration in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean Edited by Myles Lavan, Richard E. Payne, and John Weisweiler Power and Public Finance at Rome, 264–49 BCE James Tan The Jiankang Empire in Chinese and World History Andrew Chittick Reign of Arrows: The Rise of the Parthian Empire in the Hellenistic Middle East Nikolaus Leo Overtoom Empires and Communities in the Post-Roman and Islamic World, c. 400–1000 CE Edited by Walter Pohl Roman and Local Citizenship in the Long Second Century CE Edited by Myles Lavan and Clifford Ando Northern Wei (386–534): A New Form of Empire in East Asia Scott Pearce Xiongnu: The World’s First Nomadic Empire Bryan K. Miller
Xiongnu The World’s First Nomadic Empire
Bryan K. Miller
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.
© Oxford University Press 2024 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. CIP data is on file at the Library of Congress ISBN 978–0–19–008369–4 DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.001.0001 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America
For Alicia, of course.
Contents
Acknowledgments xi Prologue xv 1 Nomad Protagonists 1 The Nomadic Alternative 5 The Mobile State 10 Reconfiguring the Narrative 17 2 Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 25 A Matrix of Steppe Worlds 27 Nomads of the Steppe Heartland 31 Herders of the Corridors and Oases 34 Herders and Hunters of the Far North 37 Kingdom of the High Mountains 38 Herders Between the Steppe and the Sown 46 Inner Asian Innovations 50 3 Masters of the Steppe 52 The New Order 53 Noble Nomads 56 Under Xiongnu Reins 58 All Are Xiongnu 62 Foddering the Regime 66
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viii Contents Livestock and Labor 67 Crops and Ores 69 Furs and Silks 71 The Spoils of Conquest 72 4 Rule by the Horse 74 Institutions of the Empire 77 Regulations and Accounts 80 Ceremonies and Customs 83 Beastly Badges 86 Body of the Empire 89 Local Communities 96 Regional Hierarchies 100 Supraregional Polity 103 Arms of the Empire 108 Ventures Left and Right 109 Enterprises of Interregional Exploitation 115 Harnessing Eurasia 122 5 Of Wolves and Sheep 124 Empires in Arms 126 The Militant Emperor 127 The Great Game 136 Five Baits for the Nomads 145 Other Kings and Other Kingdoms 148 Culling the Herds 153 The Five Chanyus 155 6 Masters of the Continental Worlds 162 On the Global Stage 165 Great Reformations 167 Reigning Supreme 173 Global Political Culture 184 Communities of the Empire 190
Contents ix Local Nodes 192 Regional Networks 197 The Western Frontier 200 The Imperial Matrix 207 The Resilient Regime 213 The Scattering of Sheep 218 7 Hunnic Heritage 220 After the Fall 223 What’s in a Name 228 A Whole New World 232 Pacifying the Barbarians 238 Epilogue 241 Appendix (Chanyu Rulers) 245 Notes 247 References 303 Index (with Chinese Characters) 355
Acknowledgments
A
n eminent Xiongnu scholar once stated for their book acknowledgments: “I thought that this page would never be written.” And they have asked me for many years now: When will your book be written? I tally up the years and places and people that led to the completion of my book, and it is a long course indeed, achieved only through the help and encouragement of a horde of friends, colleagues, and mentors. The interdisciplinary historical-archaeological approaches that underlie this book began, without a doubt, during my graduate studies at the Institute of Archaeology at UCLA. While there, I was privileged to begin my intellectual journeys under the incomparable guidance of Lothar von Falkenhausen. He was a remarkable mentor and has been an unceasing supporter in the decades since. My fellow East Asian archaeology colleagues from my time at UCLA—Gwen Bennett, Chen Pochan, Rowan Flad, Minna (Haapenen) Franck, Lai Guolong, and Ye Wa—were equally important in the formations of my endeavors into early empires, which shifted quickly from Qin to Han and, finally, to Xiongnu. And last, I must thank Steve Rosen, with whom I was most fortunate to overlap at UCLA, for formally launching me into the realms of “nomads” archaeology. My first colleagues with whom I ventured into Mongolian archaeology— namely Tserendorj Odbaatar and Jean-Luc Houle—continue to help in more ways than they know, both in and out of the field, from Khanuy brigade to center city Philadelphia, from institutional juggling to theorizing prehistoric mobile pastoral communities. I must give profuse thanks to Diimaajav Erdenebaatar and Natsag Batbold for facilitating incredible first forays into the world of Xiongnu archaeology at the amazing site of Gol Mod II. I am most indebted to Tsagaan Törbat, an all-knowing bagsh for Xiongnu archaeology, without whom much of this book would be severely lacking and with whom I have shared many office discussions, from Mongolia to Germany. He continues to impart rare books and wisdom that have vastly improved this book, even up to the very eve before I sat
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xii Acknowledgments down to compose these acknowledgments. Last, and perhaps more than anyone else in Mongolia, I must thank Jamsranjav Bayarsaikhan (Bayaraa)—my long- time field collaborator, intellectual colleague, naiz min’ co-conspirator, and true nökhör—the most steadfast and inspiring companion imaginable. Through Bayarsaikhan and Odbaatar, I gained an extremely supportive base of operations at the National Museum of Mongolia, working with a host of office mates and fieldwork mates, including Tseel Ayush and Tsevendorj Egiimaa. It was my great privilege to work for several years in Khovd alongside the National Museum crew, with added help from James Williams, Judy Logan, Claire Neily, and Erik Johannesson, and even the esteemed Prokopy B. Konovalov, who blessed us with his immense experience and wisdom (and joy) for two summers of excavation work. Of the many students from Khovd University who joined our crew, I give special thanks to Tsegmediin Mönkhbat, who I am now honored to call a long-distance colleague and co-author. For all these field endeavors that produced amazing data for this book, I must express the utmost gratitude to the Silk Road Foundation and its undaunted academic leader Daniel Waugh, for overwhelming faith in and financial support for such a young scholar-in-the-works. All the while I conducted fieldwork in Mongolia, I was able to “keep a foot” in China through my gracious hosts at the Center for Frontier Archaeology at Jilin University, Yang Jianhua, Shao Huiqiu, and, above all, Pan Ling. Thank you as well to Michelle (Machicek) Hrivnyak, Pauline Sebillaud, and Steve Wang— my tongxuemen of overseas grad students there in Changchun, who were great sounding boards of conversation. Yes, xiao-mi is at last da-mi. On top of the foundations of archaeological research from UCLA and the many years of fieldwork in Mongolia, this book benefitted greatly from my years as a doctoral grad student at the University of Pennsylvania, through forays into worlds of Chinese texts investigations with Paul Goldin and worlds of art history with grad master Nancy Steinhardt. The consortium of fellow grad students, who humored my incessant ramblings and map gymnastics about the Xiongnu, were of equal importance in the collation of the first iteration of a Xiongnu database. So, many thanks to you, Kate Baldanza, Aurelia Campbell, Sarah Laursen, Leslee Michelsen, Jeff Rice, Ori Tavor, and Chris Thornton. Thank you to Holly Pittman and Renata Holod and all those in the Kolb Society at the Penn Museum for providing a most excellent community for engaging my archaeological inquiries. Above all, I give thanks to two ‘outside’ people during my time at U Penn, my resolute mentors in archaeological and historical examinations who gave such shape to my dissertation on Power Politics in the Xiongnu Empire (which is the origin of this book)—Bryan Hanks and Nicola Di Cosmo. Bryan (the other one) is one of the most faithful and inspiring intellectual supporters one could ever have. Nicola was a devoted mentor long before he even took on that official role during my years at Penn. He excavated (happily, despite the flies) with me in the pits at
Acknowledgments xiii Gol Mod II and has continued to support me through many years since getting my degree, even to the point of enabling the publication of this book. Many of those thanked here are individuals, but there must be room as well to acknowledge the support from organizations. The American Center for Mongolian Studies funded my first venture to Khovd (with Erdenebaatar), facilitated the massive undertaking of the Xiongnu Archaeology international conference in 2008, and managed a valuable year of postdoc work in Ulaanbaatar, when I was able to begin the process of transforming a dissertation into a book. Of the rare kinds of people who change lives, personally and intellectually, I must give special note to Ursula Brosseder, my other co-conspirator in Mongolian archaeology, a most welcome “intense” colleague, and the best kind of friend who opened doors to so many opportunities in Germany and beyond. If I am in debt to the numerous people listed thus for the gathering and processing of data for this book, then I am certainly in debt to Ursula for assistance in the inspiration, revising, and polishing of many of the ideas. I promised many times through the long course of the production of this manuscript that I would someday thank Uncle Alex and Aunt Gerda. The Alexander von Humboldt Foundation in Germany facilitated a very productive two years at the University of Bonn, where I spent most of the scheming stages for this book and benefitted from the rare books of their Inner Asian archaeology library and invaluable conversations with Jan Bemmann, Ursula Brosseder, and Susanne Reichert. The Gerda Henkel Foundation gave me my first book-writing grant, funding the most valuable resource—time—for final collation of the piles of archaeological and historical data that fill these pages. And during this time given from Gerda Henkel, I was fortunate to gain yet another cohort of archaeological colleagues in the German town of Kiel. Thank you Christian Horn, for entertaining theories of war and society so far from Scandinavia, and thank you Martin Furholt, for bringing your expertise and insights (and humor) all the way to Mongolia. The chapters of this book began composition at Oxford University, under the auspices of the Nomadic Empires group led by Pekka Hämäläinen. It was an immensely fruitful group with plenty of good pub chats, matched by a stream of “comparative nomads” conversations, on frequent occasions with my reliable office mates Julien Cooper and Marie Favereau. I cannot understate the value of my Oxford archaeology colleagues as well, namely Paul Wordsworth, who showed me the gavel-banging inner spheres; Anke Hein, with whom I shared many whiskey chats (and eventually a conference and volume for Lothar); and Pete Hommel, Eurasian prehistory genius, whom we have now brought with us to Mongolia. Pete, Let’s do this! I must also give thanks to Uncle Max. The Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History, where Niki Boivin created a welcome space for me and gave me the opportunity to make rapid headway in writing this book. There, in the
xiv Acknowledgments town of Jena, I was privileged to be part of an amazingly collegial environment with far too many people to thank in these acknowledgments. Of the host of brilliant young scholars there with whom I interacted, I give special thanks to the people who helped shape my conceptions of milk, millet, and populations dynamics that have been folded into this particular narrative of the Xiongnu— Elissa Bullion, Steve Goldstein, Jesse Hendy, Anneke Janzen, Choongwon Jeong, Patrick Roberts, Robert Spengler, Tina Warriner, and Shevan Wilkin. Thanks for your patience with me in the labs, Sam Brown, many praises to Mara Nakama, who created the most amazing illustrations for this book, and thanks as well to Will Taylor for taking care all the renderings of horses were proper. Last of all, endless gratitude goes to the History of Art Department and Museum of Anthropological Archaeology at the University of Michigan, where Christy Gruber and Mike Galaty helped carve out a fantastic final home for me and where the final bits of writing were done, even amidst pandemic shutdowns. My thanks to Joyce Marcus for reading and commenting upon every last word and punctuation point, and to Bruce Worden who made all the maps look far better than I could have imagined. Thanks as well go to Tammy Bray and Lori Khatchadourian and the amazing School for Advanced Research seminar group on imperial politics they brought together; the group helped add integral, even if last-minute, thoughts and bits to the book. Acknowledgment statements often end with the greatest foundation—family. I have benefitted for so many years from their immense encouragement and unfathomable support to venture out to China, Taiwan, Mongolia, Germany, and England and to persevere the tumultuous worlds of academia. But how does one go about thanking a partner, especially one of the incomparable caliber of Alicia Ventresca Miller? Not just a partner with whom you share a life (and a child, who is subjected to images of belts and bows and taken on long journeys into the Mongolian countryside), but someone who helps advance and inspire you through brain-storming, manuscript drafts, and research trips. Any portion of this book which reads more easily is most certainly a result of her input. Any success is owed profoundly to her contributions. So to her, this book is dedicated. —June 2022, Ulaanbaatar
Prologue
T
he Chanyu, Magnificent Ruler of the vast steppe realms and master of All Those Who Draw the Bow, ascended a high mountain with his entire entourage and all the trappings for a traditional steppe ritual of a binding blood oath. He had chosen the particular frontier peak, beyond the confines of any Chinese garrisons, to convene with Chinese ministers and consecrate a new peace treaty. The oath ritual boldly commenced with the sacrifice of a white horse to sanctify the ceremony. Then the Chanyu took a ritual knife, shaved off bits of gold into a cup of alcohol, and stirred them in with a ceremonial spoon. He presented the gilded brew to the Chinese ministers in an aged cup fashioned from a human skull. It was an heirloom of the Xiongnu rulers, handed down from a previous conquering Chanyu over a century and a half before, hewn from the head of an enemy king who had once wronged the founder of the steppe empire. The Chinese delegation had come to the gathering with predications of renewed nomadic concession to the Chinese court. But there, amongst a mass of nomadic administrators and warriors at the culmination of a steppe ceremony, the handful of Chinese officials drank from the ominous memento of Xiongnu power. The outcome of the gathering was not going to accord with the ambitions of the August Emperor who sat far way in Chang’an, the capital of the Han Empire. It was the design of this Chanyu, named Huhanye, one who would revitalize the might of the steppe empire. After decades of war with the Han Empire, and amidst fragmenting civil war in the steppe realms, Huhanye Chanyu had gone south to entreat the Chinese for aid and reside within their frontier. In 51 bce he had capitulated to the Han Emperor and was heralded a “frontier vassal.” To this end, the Emperor had bestowed him with official Han garments and a residence within the Han capital region. The menace of the Xiongnu Empire had at long last been quelled and its ruler, the Chanyu, ostensibly restrained within the Han realms.
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xvi Prologue This would certainly have seemed so to any of the Chinese court chroniclers at the time, and generations of historians since have interpreted this as the beginning of a tumultuous and protracted dissolution of the Xiongnu Empire. But the course of ensuing events, culminating in the mountaintop oath ceremony, demonstrate a dramatically different narrative. Soon after his apparent acquiescence in the confines of the Han capital, Huhanye moved northward with his remnant entourage to reside in the grasslands between Chinese frontier garrisons. Yet these lands were also occupied by resettled nomadic hordes, those who had previously served the Xiongnu rulers. Although ostensibly within the limits of the Han Empire, the Chanyu was surrounded by fellow noble nomads and militia of the steppe, of whom he quickly took command based in his temporary mountain abode. On numerous occasions he received tens of thousands of cavalry for protection and, through claims that his people were weary, cart loads of grain from the stores of the surrounding frontier counties. Only once more during his time in the frontier did he go directly to the Han court to pay his respects. As Huhanye bolstered his hordes and augmented his resources, nomadic groups in the frontier who had once submitted to the Han began to withdraw northward in ever-increasing numbers into the steppes. By 47 bce, Chinese officials at the northern frontier remarked that the Chanyu’s people were in fact flourishing, his main rival within the steppes was no longer a threat, and his own ministers had begun to discuss a return north to the core Xiongnu lands. In order to promptly garner a favorable and binding truce before the Chanyu was out of reach, Chinese officials in the frontier met with Huhanye at the top of a mountain to forge a treaty in the name of their Emperor. The terms of this treaty were not one of Xiongnu submission, as the Chinese had presumed, but rather a peace agreement between equal powers, recognizing “Han and Xiongnu together as one house.” Even though court histories handed down through the ages assert that the treaty was devised by Han representatives, the emissaries were clearly not in control of its particulars. Even more telling than the terms of the treaty were the rites of the oath ceremony. It was conducted not in Chinese fashion but in accord with sacred spaces, accoutrements, and actions of steppe rituals that imparted Xiongnu dominance over the agreement. [The Han officials] Chang and Meng along with the Chanyu and [his] great ministers all ascended the mountain east of [what would become known as the] River of Xiongnu Assent. [There] a white horse was slaughtered, the Chanyu used a jinglu knife [to carve off] gold and a liuli spoon to mix together [with] alcohol, and then, using the drinking vessel which Old Venerate Chanyu had made from the skull of the King of the defeated Yuezhi, all [in attendance] drank to the blood covenant.1 The ritual paraphernalia were items particular to steppe traditions. The knife used to shave off gold into the alcohol was a specific sort of Xiongnu precious
Prologue xvii dagger, and its name (jinglu) referred to a Xiongnu deity of Heaven and the sacrificial places in honor of its spirit. The cup was an heirloom of Xiongnu royal regalia, commemorating a triumphant campaign against one of the last competing nomadic groups, the Yuezhi, well over a century earlier under the reign of the second imperial Chanyu. In addition, the sacrifice of prized horses for ritual ceremonies had been a custom among steppe nomads for well over a millennium, and the open ritual space atop sacred mountains was certainly akin to steppe ceremonies linked with sacred geography. The frontier encampment of the Chanyu was closer to the Han capital than to the seat of Xiongnu power in grasslands north of the Gobi Desert, yet Huhanye purposefully did not journey to Chang’an to consecrate this oath directly with the Han Emperor. The new treaty was conducted according to steppe ritual conventions and, most importantly, with terms conducive to the Chanyu’s ambitions to assert himself as sovereign over all communities of “those who draw the bow” in the steppe and as hegemon over the various lords of Eurasia. Soon after the oath ceremony, the Chanyu returned northward as planned to the core steppe regions of the Xiongnu Empire. Very little is recorded of his subsequent actions, yet nomadic groups who had previously submitted to the Han continued to withdraw from the frontier. Even some high-level Chinese emissaries, once they made the diplomatic journey to the Xiongnu court deep within the steppe, did not return. Not until sixteen years later, in 31 bce—when a new Chinese Emperor had taken the throne and the last of the Chanyu’s competitors within the Inner Asian steppes had been vanquished—did Huhanye come confidently to the court of the Han Emperor to be showered with lavish gifts and renew the peace treaty of his devise. Even with the Chanyu in attendance at the court at Chang’an, the Emperor could not undo the pact that bestowed such favor and authority upon the steppe ruler. It was upon this occasion that the Xiongnu ruler was also given a Chinese bride to take as one of his secondary wives. Despite not being a truly royal bride from the immediate Han ruling family, she played a long-standing and significant role in accounts of Han–Xiongnu politics. She was Lady Wang, the Bride Who Pacified the Barbarians, and her tale has perpetuated the notion that steppe nomads and their regimes can be undone once proponents of Chinese culture infiltrate their society. It was through such historical figures turned fictionalized legends that notions of Xiongnu pacification lived on in historical memory. Although the people and events surrounding the Chanyu Huhanye have been associated with the deterioration of the Xiongnu Empire, details embedded within the corpuses of historical records and archaeological remains belie such a narrative. The texts that have been used to spin the long-standing narrative of Chinese supremacy need only be unraveled and rewoven with the growing body of material evidence into a narrative that gives proper voice to the protagonists of the Xiongnu story.
Chapter 1
Nomad Protagonists
T
o embark on the long and complex story of the Xiongnu, I present a single inconspicuous artifact—a sheep anklebone. Rather than any of the countless possible treasures pedestaled by museum exhibitions or printed boldly in art collection catalogues, of the sort that fill MacGregor’s History of the World in 100 Objects, I choose something that at first seems base but in actuality has significant implications for an intricate understanding of Xiongnu culture, society, and empire (Figure 1.1). Over twenty years ago, the first Xiongnu individual I ever investigated was a young child from a small grave. Within the relatively meager burial were the partial remains of a foal and a few lambs offered in remembrance of the youth, one who was dressed with simple iron belt fittings and accompanied by a pile of worn sheep bones probably used in some form of pastime. Although this grave lay on the eastern flank of the largest known tomb of the nomadic empire—a monumental and ostentatious burial that has in more recent years yielded fantastic treasures of jade, silver, gold, and exotic glass—the bones with markings in the small grave of the youth remain uppermost in my thoughts about the nomadic empire. The surface of this particular sheep anklebone is smooth from repeated handling. Animal astragali, called shagai in modern Mongolian, are found in ancient and medieval contexts throughout Eurasia, and are still used today as gaming pieces and for fortune-telling in steppe cultures. The widespread use of these objects reflects a large suite of similar cultural traditions, albeit with local variations, that span the vast territories of the Eurasian steppes. Here, however, I focus more on the implications this object has on the inner workings of the first steppe empire. In Xiongnu culture, ankle bones of sheep and other herd animals served as personal adornments (bones with bored holes at the corner to hang from bags and belts), as portable tools such as fire-starters (bones with drilled burning indentations), or as playing pieces of indeterminate function (worn bones, sometimes with markings). The multiple uses of these livestock bones as personal possessions convey the primacy of a pastoral way of life and echo perhaps the multiple resources, from milk and meat to hair and hides, that livestock provided
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0001
2 Xiongnu
Figure 1.1 Composite symbol (marking emphasized) on sheep anklebone from Gol Mod II cemetery. After Miller et al. 2006.
for communities throughout the empire. But it is the etchings on anklebones that speak to the economic and political institutions. Considerations of these markings, via additional iterations and material contexts of an extensive vocabulary of equivalent symbols, generate questions about production, exchange, administration, prestige, and authority in the Xiongnu Empire. Markings of geometric design, often referred to as tamgas, have long been prevalent throughout Eurasia but appear first among steppe groups in the era when the Xiongnu Empire emerged. The Xiongnu utilized these markings in multiple milieu—on the undersides of wheel-made cook pots and storage jars, on bone handles of their composite bows, etched onto imported luxury vessels, stamped onto the eave tiles of their royal buildings, and carved on rock outcrops throughout their realms. Ancient art and modern tools alike demonstrate that these have also been used as brands for livestock, and their presence in a variety of material contexts of the Xiongnu may indicate similar practices of denoting ownership. Many Xiongnu period signs have accordingly been equated to clan or lineage emblems, though there are only a handful of them with slight variations of the core elements. Does this suggest that only certain groups retained clan signs or were prevalent enough to be preserved in the archaeological record? Furthermore, if each sign represents a single lineage group, then what are the implications of composite signs, such as on the anklebone from the child’s grave, for group interactions like clan cooperatives or lineage alliances? Regardless of the exact meanings of these signs or the possible groups being designated, they intimate a scheme of
Nomad Protagonists 3 articulating ownership—of storage pots and the contents within, of prestigious exotica used in social performances of power, of restricted arenas for ceremonies and monumental expressions of authority, and of pivotal peaks and valleys for moving through and utilizing the vast steppe landscape. The repetitive use of many individual signs in different contexts demonstrates a pervasive and codified scheme of symbols. These symbols appear to have been integral in economic and political endeavors.1 As many signs closely resemble runic marks of the Türkic inscriptions centuries later, these could embody early iterations in record keeping that were later utilized in the development of a writing system among medieval steppe nomads.2 Historical tradition has long held that the Xiongnu had no form of writing, citing Han court accounts that state they “are without written documents and use spoken words for agreements and bonds.”3 Yet other passages in the same chronicle betray the supposition that these nomads were lacking any means of keeping accounts. “In autumn [when] the horses are fat [they] hold a great gathering at Dai Forest and examine and check the calculations of people and livestock.”4 Was there perhaps a (as of yet unknown) complex system of record keeping or ownership marking that is hinted at by this written mention and by these recurring symbols? Steppe societies in the centuries immediately after the Xiongnu era are described as making marks on wood to keep records or tallying sheep dung to calculate numbers of troops.5 Even in the Inca Empire of South America, long series of knotted cotton or wool cords called quipu were used for accounts of llamas, alpacas, chili peppers, and other goods, demonstrating highly developed systems for managing resources in the absence of formal writing.6 When considering such alternatives to written characters for record keeping, the archaeological artifacts and historical mentions for the Xiongnu era signal alternative yet efficient methods of accounting among the steppe communities. Some markings on anklebones, including those found in the small child’s grave, exhibit a series of hatches that could relate to a numbering system. If so, then such marks could well be a vestige of enumeration for which all other material renderings have not been preserved. The histories seemingly credit any writing capabilities among the Xiongnu to counseling from Han advisors, stating that one defected minister instructed “the [Xiongnu] Left and Right [lords] [how] to [prepare] documents and [keep] accounts so as to calculate and record their multitudes of people and components of livestock.”7 However, the form and style of most Xiongnu markings are radically different from Chinese characters. Even the recently discovered Han-style bronze seal from a Xiongnu grave in Mongolia bears an especially non-Chinese form of writing cast into the marking underside.8 Despite the possible incorporation of some techniques of accounting coming from the Han realms, these most likely reflect a particularly steppe-derived system that developed during the Xiongnu era.
4 Xiongnu While these markings may not constitute a writing system that renders the spoken language(s) of Xiongnu constituents, they were certainly charged with meaning and utilized in a structured fashion for materials and places. Such etched and carved schemes for accounting and ownership require us to alter our understanding of how resources—whether in livestock, land, prestigious products or even people—were controlled in the steppe and to expand our notions of the kinds of social and economic institutions that could facilitate the maintenance of a large empire. Rather than drawing up Procrustean checklists of “empire” restricted by criteria such as full-fledged writing systems—or, for that matter, much of the assumed hard infrastructure like roads and market cities or soft infrastructure like law codes and bureaucracy—we should consider a plethora of possibilities for the social, economic, and political institutions employed to manage resources and control communities on the level of empires. Reconsiderations of large nomadic conglomerates in many regions of the world have begun to challenge the ways we think of formal political entities, nomadic or otherwise. Even traditionally demoted indigenous groups of the North American Plains are now discussed as peer empires alongside the Spanish, French, and American regimes. In these particular cases, the Great Plains entities are noted as imperialistic in their outward actions, from their conquests to their commercial networks that penetrated, exploited, and pushed back against the colonial European empires.9 Yet they are not deemed completely imperial from within, in so far as they lacked a king or emperor who retained centralized authority over a hierarchy of ranks, and they did not have clear territorial delineations.10 Historians and archaeologists have increasingly emphasized interior dynamics, relying upon the available textual and growing material records, respectively, in their analyses of governing systems and constituent communities of early empires.11 Although most scholars deem the Xiongnu entity to have been imperial in its outward military and economic engagements, characterizations of its interior constitution span a broad spectrum from tribal confederacy to nomadic empire.12 Terms that seem contradictory are combined in attempts to describe an entity that does not conform to traditional classifications, including labels of “stateless empire” and “super-complex chiefdom” employed by Nikolai Kradin.13 In response to struggles against constricting categorizations, William Honeychurch and others have furthered the possibilities of understanding by showing how pastoral nomadism and statehood are, despite conventional narratives, not in conflict.14 This growing body of scholarship concurs that the Xiongnu entity did possess institutions of cohesive political organization and centralized authority that were imperial in nature and set it apart from other nomadic entities.15 Nevertheless, summaries of world history continue to deem the steppe and its societies as incongruous to any discussion of empire. Even the large two-volume
Nomad Protagonists 5 Oxford World History of Empire, omits the historically and archaeologically attested Xiongnu and Türk empires, leaving the Mongols to seem like a political enigma that emerged surprisingly on the global stage.16 This may be, in part, due to the many failed attempts to fit nomadic regimes into the predetermined boxes of empire as necessarily bureaucratic and agrarian. As these academic perceptions persist, we are left with the relentless base assumption that nomads cannot formulate empires. But any investigation of pre-modern polities should dwell less on their categorization and more on their actions and operations.17 The Xiongnu may not have formulated an entrenched bureaucracy of the sort for which the Persian, Chinese, and Mediterranean empires are famous, but they did develop a complex political system that fostered cohesion and centralized control. They may not have established a polity with materially manifested borders or all-encompassing domains, but they were firmly territorial and persistent in their campaigns of dominance and resource extraction. With archaeological and historical brushes in concert, this book illustrates how nomads constructed a cohesive supraregional and politically centralized regime that successfully managed a massive and diverse surplus of resources for the benefit of a few—in other words, an empire. The Xiongnu were imperial not only in their outward actions but also in their interior operations. Politics were hierarchical and pervasive, linking together communities of neighboring and disparate regions of Inner Asia into a centrally controlled regime mobilized for military and economic action. The institutions for accounting invoked by the marked sheep bone (with which I began this introductory discussion) call into question entrenched assumptions about steppe pastoral peoples and their capacity for social and economic complexity. Yet tamgas and other markings highlight only one of the many new institutions of political authority and wealth management of the Xiongnu, beyond mere military might, that enabled the nomadic empire to have such deep historical impact throughout Eurasia. The Nomadic Alternative Academic scholarship and popular literature alike continue to marginalize nomadic societies. Nomads occupy worlds seemingly outside of civilization and embrace alternative lifeways deemed at odds with economic and political advancement.18 Their reliance on livestock herds is reckoned incapable of the kinds of growth and stability associated with large political regimes, and their mobile lifeways, with communities purportedly able to “vote with their feet,” are deemed a source of social fission antithetical to cohesive governance.19 Yet nomadic societies comprise flexible social units and easily conveyable wealth, both ideal for efficient large-scale operations. Their pastoral engagements constitute resilient, not fragile, strategies of long-term maintenance.20 Hence,
6 Xiongnu nomadism is not a hindrance to the creation of durable compositions, but rather presents so-called alternative and equally viable trajectories for the development of an extensive polity.21 Untangling nomadic traditions from their accumulated adverse connotations requires first a recognition that the label “nomad” has been a more cumbersome term than it should be.22 For societies of the Eurasian steppes, this has led to the conflation of vast regions and varied peoples into a single monolithic entity, in both cultural and economic terms.23 But upon parsing nomadism, we find a range of endeavors engaging a variety of livestock that may include permanent villages and agriculture just as well as ephemeral campsites and long-distance migrations.24 Despite prevailing connotations, the linguistic root of the word “nomad” does not directly denote community movement so much as the pasturing of animals, whether or not that task of pasturing required shifts in residence.25 The frequently interchanged terms of “nomadic pastoralism” and “pastoral nomadism” attempt to distinguish between the variables of residential mobility and pastoral economy enveloped by the label of nomadism. However, more and more scholarship on so-called nomads has chosen to speak of “mobile pastoralists” of many different sorts, whose lifeways lie variably along intersecting spectrums of habitation (settled-to-mobile) and subsistence (agricultural-to-pastoral).26 Pastoralists often diversify their herds in order to provide a plurality of pathways to stable economies.27 But most societies that are primarily pastoral are not exclusively so. The raising, pasturing, moving, and harvesting of herds of domesticated animals do not preclude engagements in hunting, gathering, or even farming (i.e., the raising and harvesting of domesticated crops). Hence, many so- called nomads engage in pastorally based yet multiresource economies.28 Similarly, not all steppe pastoralists continually moved great distances. In Mongolia, the scales of mobility and patterns of land use, as well as the compositions of local herds, have greatly varied between regions.29 Instead of a constant engagement with long-distance movements, what has characterized most of the steppe pastoralists of Inner Asia is an intrinsic mobility; in other words, the potential to enact community movement on periodic occasions for regular pasturing shifts or in extenuating circumstances. Many herder communities retained the capability of distant migrations, with their tent homes and herds on the hoof, even if they stayed most of the year within a small verdant stretch of a few kilometers. The defining characteristic of Inner Asian nomads is thus more their pastoral capital than their potential migrations, returning us to the pastoral root of the term “nomad.”30 Herds of livestock were managed just as fields of crops were, with long-term strategies of material and labor investments, organized partitions and rotations, and harvests with larger labor pools organized for maximum profits. Prehistoric herders in the Eurasian steppes employed a variety of sophisticated
Nomad Protagonists 7 livestock management strategies. Pasturing circuits particular to their local geographies maximized grazing potential, extensions of animal birthing seasons increased production of pastoral products, and foddering herds with collected grasses or even millet to safeguard animals during the cold months.31 Capital in pastoral societies such as the Xiongnu could take on multiple forms, all of which fostered efficient control of wealth and institutionalized wealth inequality that could support political elites.32 But beyond the material capital of actual herd animals, there is also a host of social capital embedded within the relations and agreements of pastoral communities. These include contracts for the sharing or loaning of livestock; the use of particular grasslands, especially when venturing outside of regular circuits; and the management of both animals and lands.33 Complementing these contracts is a range of cultural capital embodied in critical knowledge of the geographic landscapes and social networks navigated by herder households and the leaders of pastoral communities. And just as these animals could be moved to new grazing grounds, so were they more easily moved to trading places or harvesting labor pools, assembled for taxation, and partitioned out to new households and herders. Livestock particular to different regions, be they yaks in the north or camels in the south, could be moved between different regions of Inner Asia. As herds constituted motile wealth “on the hoof ” distinct from crops fixed to the land, unharvested stock was more easily moved along with and between the equally mobile communities. With widespread individual mobility afforded by horse riding, people could also easily move between communities or be mobilized for larger endeavors, military or otherwise. Gainful management of livestock requires sufficient grass for feeding them as well as sufficient people for herding and harvesting them. Many households manage their herds through cooperative communities of families that reside together for significant portions of the year. In Mongolia, these units are traditionally referred to as khoton or khot-ail, the latter being a binome referring to the herder “households” (ail) that shared a “corral” (khot) of their collective livestock.34 Each communal unit was centered on a collective herd, rather than stuck to the land as at ordained crop fields, and tied not so much to a specific plot of pasture as to a particular circuit of continually negotiated pastures. While many herder communities change composition with varied seasonal encampments, these physically fluid collectives retained their social identity for cooperative management in order to mitigate the risks of pastoral subsistence in instances such as parched pastures or heavy winters.35 Such “camp communities” constitute the building blocks of nomadic societies, social units readily adaptive to variable environmental, economic, or political conditions.36 Each herder community, or collection of closely linked communities, frequently has certain households that retained greater affluence than others did. And while wealthier families in the Inner Asian steppe cannot usually sustain
8 Xiongnu their larger herds on the pasture lands in which they immediately reside, they can meet the demands of growing livestock collectives through herd-sharing contracts. These contracts allow them to partition their livestock out to other households or communities as well as accord for labor pools that expand workforces beyond their immediate households or even community capacities when the most productive milking and shearing seasons of harvest arise. It is often the leaders of these more affluent families with access to great material capital who are the ones that accumulate great social capital, controlling the grazing circuits upon which herder households rely. Although most camp communities of the past would have formed through a combination of kith and kin relations, wealthier ones could be more kinship-oriented, cultivating established lineages to clearly distinguish those who were members of their clan unit with access to greater capital. In early historical steppe societies like the Xiongnu, the members of more elite households were those who donned prestigious garments and belts, used hefty metal cauldrons and other luxury wares when entertaining guests, resided in lavishly adorned and furnished felt tents, and were laid to rest with ample offerings in conspicuous graves. Just as certain households or families within a community could become more prominent than others, so could there arise a wide spectrum of wealth differentiation between different communities of the steppe, with certain leading families of those communities bearing exclusive clan designations and rising above other locales. These established lineages and their growing constituencies of households served as the nuclei of nomadic societies and, in turn, as the anchoring nodes for large political regimes. In the thirteenth century, the greatest of such elite households in Inner Asia were often referred to by the lavish tents in which they dwelt—the “mobile palaces” called ordo or horde. Visitors to horde camps of the Mongol nobles would come upon “carts stationed on the [river] bank, the carts and tents [counting in the] thousands and hundreds. Daily [they] had clarified hu-cream (butter) and beaten lao-cream (kumiss) as sustenance . . . [and the ordo], its carts, carriages, pavilions, and tents [made] gazing upon it of such majesty; the ancient Great Chanyus did not have any luxury such as this.”37 While the term “horde” did not exist during the time of the Chanyu rulers of the Xiongnu, the companies of retainers, guards, and prominent households centered on a leading family, embodied by the “mobile palace” of a noble nomad, certainly did. Even the famous tents on wheeled vehicles of the Mongol elites, as described by visiting European missionaries, find parallels in Xiongnu-era drawings of tents on wheels etched onto birch-bark boxes.38 In this book about the Xiongnu regime and its constituents, I employ the word “horde” as an apt, even if anachronistic, term to encapsulate the political nuclei— their luxuries, supplies, entourages, and all—of the steppe empire. The regiments of mounted warriors that the camp leaders fielded, for which they became famous
Nomad Protagonists 9 among the non-steppe realms, were but one component of a horde. The horde was at once a social, economic, and military unit. In this vein, I aim to reach past the past several centuries of pejorative connotations that grossly encumber the term “horde”—as a throng of unorganized people, often of those who pose a violent threat—in favor of adopting the Mongol-era emic meaning that entailed a well-organized and mobile locus of wealth and power and which in turn comprised the nodes of a larger political matrix.39 Hordes of nomadic regimes were categorically different entities from regular khoton-like camp communities. They were convergences of great social and material capital as well as military might. Large quantities of livestock and other resources were distributed through them, and critical contracts for managing herds and accessing pastures were focused in their prominent households. In these capacities, they often moved more in accordance with the needs of itinerant governance than the needs of pastoral migrations.40 Whereas khoton were the building blocks of nomadic societies and acted according to the needs of the herds, hordes were the building blocks of nomadic polities and acted in accordance with the needs of their ruling regimes. In the chapters that follow, I analyze such building block units through a nested perspective, expanding from local communities to regional conglomerates to the empire as a whole, and focusing on the myriad of materials and institutions used to weave their leaders and constituents together. Communities in the steppe were fluid and often moving, yet they still retained systematic interactions and hierarchies of relations that enabled the formation of a centralized political network. Economic institutions of pastoral systems allowed for easy transference of capital at the same time as they allowed for the maintenance of wealth inequality.41 These inequalities enabled particular lineages to retain elite status, even building up over one another with different rankings between them, to create a vast hierarchical structure that spread across all of Inner Asia. Hence, individual households combined into khoton groups that made up single locales, and khotons coalesced into ever greater collectives, linking several locales, under the leadership of local hordes under the leadership of regional hordes. By dissecting the matrices of Xiongnu realms and communities in a multiscalar fashion— spanning from a single site to the entire empire—I aim to elucidate within the steppe an agglomeration of complex political hierarchies and graded nodes of wealth, ones on par with, even if seemingly different from, archaic states and agrarian empires in other parts of the world.42 Nomadic elites could indeed build what other areas of the world might render as kingdoms, and they most certainly founded the kinds of regimes that elsewhere have been called empires. And while pastoral economies and mobile communities are perhaps “alternative” to the standard fare, they bore traditions that helped maintain polities in the steppe no less sophisticated or impactful than
10 Xiongnu the classic states and empires that are the focus of most scholarship on the pre- modern world. The Mobile State Mobile lifeways and mounted warfare have long been the presiding features of narratives concerning steppe societies. In early Chinese chronicles of Inner Asia, movement (xing) was the key descriptor for steppe polities. The label of xing- guo—“mobile state” or “moving state”—denoted polities throughout present-day Central and Inner Asia that comprised people who “do not stick to the earth” and fielded armies of mounted warriors.43 Chinese scribes recorded them as all having equivalent customs to one another, often deemed equal to those of the Xiongnu, and thereby lumped them into a monolithic world of nomads who “herd livestock and follow water and grass moving to and fro.”44 The subtext of the Chinese emphasis on mobile lifeways for these foreign entities was that a populace needed to “stick to the earth” if it was to provide the proper foundations for a resilient society or stable polity. Yet the operations of the Xiongnu and their constituents defy any purported ineptitude of mobile practices for a successful state. On the contrary, they illustrate the power wielded by a regime organized as a “mobile state.” Mobility has long been reckoned the antithesis of political stability, making nomadism an anarchist or utopian alternative of the state in modern discourse. As for mobile people within a state, mobility is seen as the ultimate art of not being governed.45 In the pervasive Nomadology concept of Deleuze and Guattari, nomas and polis are opposites. In this, nomadic groups are rendered specifically as non-hierarchical collections of social actors who operate within non-striated “smooth” spaces, which they do not organize or “code” in any fashion, and whose movements are “perpetual, without aim or destination.”46 As the above introduction to mobile pastoral lifeways in the steppe has iterated, herder households neither wander amid ecologically equivalent places nor move through socially smooth spaces. And their social interactions and economic engagements both engender and wield hierarchies. From these and other models of nomadic societies comes the too often repeated assumption that any apparatus based on mobility lies in contrast to rational institutions of governance. The key disparity in Nomadology between nomas and polis posits the former as a machine of war at odds with the latter machine of state. When delving into early East Asian history, one cannot help but hear this dichotomous precept echoing the binary of wen-literati versus wu-military that pervades Chinese political discourse. But whereas the wen-wu incongruous dichotomy has been shown to be a false one,47 the nomas-polis dichotomy persists.
Nomad Protagonists 11 In traditional Chinese narratives of Eurasia, remaining mobile and geared for war was deemed a joint strategy only for the early phase of establishing a state, not for maintaining a state. The Confucianist perspective on governance recounts the story of when the first Emperor of the Han dynasty had vanquished all the Chinese realms around and between the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers. The emperor’s advisor allegedly asked, regarding the new imperial domain, “Residing on a horse [you] obtained it, yet how can [you] govern it on a horse?”48 This tale of a Han emperor contended that rulers had to shift away from militarism and armed agents and instead embrace a literati bureaucracy if they were to successfully govern their domain. As the tale lived on, the argument against the horse was pitched mostly to non-Chinese rulers who sought to rule over the Central Plains. However, during the centuries of northerner regimes in the mid-first millennium ce, while this tenet was quoted it was also questioned, arguing for a joint use of military and literati institutions of governance.49 Through such uses the maxim came to embody less an argument against militarism and more an argument against steppe traditions in governance. The push for non-steppe traditions was proposed even by advisors to the early Mongol khans who conquered the Central Plains and realms further south.50 Later, as the Manchus exerted sovereignty over the entirety of Chinese domains, this long-standing adage transformed into a proviso to foreign northerners that they must metaphorically dismount from their steppe lifestyles and embrace the cultural protocols and bureaucratic institutions of quintessentially Chinese traditions.51 Any political regime inclined toward steppe traditions of nomads “on horseback” rather than settled literati bureaucrats was doomed to fail. This stipulation of bureaucracy as the cornerstone of an empire, and the associated incapacity of nomadic customs in forming an empire, rears its head in Western political treatises as well.52 Historians repeatedly deduce that a regime without bureaucracy is a confederacy rather than an empire, a loose entity of coercion and indirect clients rather than an efficiently organized one with structured territories.53 Without a literate bureaucracy, most scholars have argued, the only means of control was military coercion. And a polity of coercion is deemed categorically lesser than a territorially structured and bureaucratic one.54 These assumptions about successful imperial regimes are so inflated in historical traditions that they brim over the boundaries of scholarly circles and spill into pop culture. When imperial commanders in a fictional galaxy far, far away were told that their empire would move ahead without a Senate and its officials, the initial response was disbelief. “That’s impossible! How will the emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?” The chief governor then replied, “The regional governors now have direct control over their territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line.”55 With a web of loyal regional agents wielding the threat
12 Xiongnu of an unmatched imperial military, one doled out swiftly by the highly mobile destructive force of a Death Star, a relatively small group and their autocratic leader could theoretically retain control over a vast empire. But this story, like those imprinted on most nomadic empires, is one in which a fearsome regime struck great terror but did not live long, or at least was not a fully fledged empire. Historical and fictional narratives alike reiterate that a reliance on autonomous agents in the provinces coupled with the threat of force emanating from the center, even with the presence of mobile ruling bodies, cannot sustain an empire. In the galaxy far, far away, mobility was not only insufficient for the ruling factions to maintain control over an empire, but it was also an ideal strategy engaged by rebellious factions to evade imperial agents and eventually undermine the empire. They could “vote with their feet” and retreat to purportedly marginal environments, from which they could still strike out against the regime. These dual characterizations of those who embrace mobility bring us back to the assumption that mobility itself is the antithesis of the state—nomas and polis cannot coexist. But, as some historians of steppe peoples and polities have argued, mobility among ruling hordes and their constituent communities was not an obstacle to the state. For rulers of nomadic regimes, mobility was the prime art of governing. It was not power avoidance but power projection.56 Many scholars regard nomadic states as full of contradictions, like mobility versus governance, and thus render them historical enigmas. Yet, upon closer examination, we may discern sophisticated institutions which, specifically because of their origins in pastoralism and mobility, foster economic durability and political cohesion.57 Nomadic societies retain significant cultural capacity for cultivating multiresource economies and managing political entities with thin administrative bodies across extensive spaces.58 In this way, fluid and mobile communities do not always bring about political fission. Instead, they can be a means of fusion, creating more intricately interwoven entities. Greater investment in apparatuses of mobility fosters a more efficient circulation of labor and material resources. The roads of the Inca and Roman empires surely attest to the value of infrastructure for the flows of things. Yet not all apparatuses of mobility were physical constructs tied to the land. Pastoral institutions of livestock and labor provide ample sources of wealth in the form of motile material capital and alienable social capital that are more easily hoardable and can flow through social networks of the state. But if we lack the customary kinds of material evidence for empire, like temples and cities or roads and storehouses, then to what sorts of material vestiges can we turn so as to engage a narrative of empire in the steppe? Local and regional leaders in Xiongnu society maintained power through their accumulation of immaterial social capital, to the benefit of their own kin and hordes. But so did they brandish belts and other material things that demonstrated their social affluence and their exclusive membership in the larger
Nomad Protagonists 13 regime. When wielded in social engagements, such materials helped reinforce the hierarchical relations and long-distance ties that maintained the political networks of the empire; thus did they become material delegates of the imperial regime.59 Since prestigious apparel, opulent feasting wares, and ostentatious felt tents— the principal accoutrements and arenas for enacting politics—were all easily transported along with the itinerant elite households, and easily transferred among them, chiefs of varying ranks were able to operate the empire without fixed infrastructure like the palaces and treasuries on which archaeologists often rely to delineate nodes of empire. We may then investigate the spatial and social distributions of such material actants, which can be recovered, as proxies of the politics and political nodes of empire rather than looking only to cities, storehouses, and roads. The “mobile state” polities of Inner Asia, as recounted by Han chroniclers, were states certainly hinged upon a high capacity of movements. Nodes of power in such regimes accumulated social capital because material capital flowed through them. But, in this way, they were more than just states that could move, shifting their centers of power or even entire realms. They were cohesive regimes in which livestock, goods, armies, agents, and even elite hordes all moved with great adeptness into, out of, and amid varied domains. Hence, rather than read xing-guo simply as “mobile-state” or “state-of-mobility,” I construe it further into plurality as a “state-of-mobilities”—in other words, a polity that comprises highly mobile constituents and resources and is organized through non-fixed nodes of a structured social network that mobilizes these foundations of the political economy. In this vein, nomadic empires like the Xiongnu are empires of mobilities, par excellence. The key to maintaining any large polity, especially an empire, is to increase available resources in excess of the biological needs of constituent communities; in other words, a growing surplus with great quantity and diversity that can serve the socioeconomic agendas of the political regime.60 Empires of mobilities like the Xiongnu accomplished this through investments in institutions of efficient and far-reaching movements without the resource burdens of maintaining fixed infrastructure, thereby allowing them to rapidly seize control of vast resources spanning numerous regions. Rather than taking over whole territories and blanketing them with bureaucrats and colonies, the Xiongnu managed to bolster their accumulative surplus by infiltrating other networks and reappropriating existing nodes. As the imperial network grew, so did the quantity and diversity of resources at its behest. For communities throughout Inner Asia, cattle, horses, sheep, and goats appear to have comprised the base of staple wealth, with other domestic animals and even domestic crops as additions that varied according to specific regions.61 Taxes and raids emphasized the procurement of more livestock (or their hides)
14 Xiongnu from a broad range of areas that could bolster the primarily pastoral base of the steppe economy. Hence, the Xiongnu regime relied on neighboring entities not so much for any particular category of subsistence resource that they completely lacked—namely grains—but more so for augmenting the overall surplus of existing resources in the steppe for the imperial economy. But a surplus in livestock, chief among resources in the steppe, could not be stockpiled in large store houses in the way that grains could. Instead, large aggregates of animals had to be dispersed by their elite owners to their constituent herder communities, each of which managed and harvested collectives of animals with a breadth of households, rich and poor, across different grasslands. As the surplus of livestock and other materials of the empire grew, so grew a need for a surplus in labor for harvesting and processing and for managing agents to collect and distribute surplus resources. Thus captured people were also resources to be distributed among communities of the steppe. And, like a carrot and a stick, access to surplus and threat of military force were complementary facets driving a successful empire. However, once a regime could no longer supply incentives of either sort—fodder or fear—local leaders would no longer have any reason to recognize imperial authority and vast realms would disintegrate into disparate regions. The Xiongnu rulers became masters of whole worlds not by administering control over all communities but by controlling movements of all resources between communities outside of and within disparate domains of the empire. Nomadic empires are indeed territorial but in a way unlike their agrarian counterparts in the Chinese Central Plains and elsewhere.62 It is the authority over the movement of resources, more than sovereign claims to possess the territories which bear them, that underwrites empires of mobilities. Because of this, many of the regions into which the Xiongnu nomadic empire exerted control yielded little to no structured vestiges of political sovereignty. How then, if we rely on built places to reconstruct the bodies of ancient polities, can we map out the political landscape of a nomadic empire such as the Xiongnu?63 How can we conceptualize the spaces of a polity that was, relative to the contemporary agrarian empires of Rome and China, cartographically invisible?64 In order to answer these questions we must first detach our narrative from Childe-ish preconceptions of civilization that tie social and economic complexity to agriculture, cities, and densely landed populations.65 The most recurrent conundrum raised in discussions of nomadic empires is the seeming sparsity of places and of people, begging the same question posed to all empires of mobilities—be they steppe or maritime—of how a group so small ruled an empire so vast. Conventional understandings of empires dictate a primacy of embedded infrastructure—in canals, roads, storehouses, and fortified cities with markets and monuments. These built components, of great material and labor investment, constitute conspicuous physical evidence of the political
Nomad Protagonists 15 landscape of empires.66 But the lack of these particular forms of infrastructure did not present impassable problems to nomadic regimes. Rather, this dearth of cities and such presents an obstacle only to the prevailing scholarly discourses embedded in circumscribed typologies and infrastructure checklists because they are inaptly applied to analyses of imperial polities like the Xiongnu. Infrastructure comprises far more than material building projects. Broadly speaking, it is an “architecture for circulation,” whether hard or soft, and includes social structures of management institutions and agents as well as fixed built structures. All of these come together to act as networks for the movement of goods and knowledge across large spaces.67 In many respects, mobility facilitates all the operations of empires; thus, the infrastructure for mobilities would have been the primary concern of regimes like the Xiongnu.68 To better elucidate the operations particular to nomadic empires, we should therefore explore all possible modes of infrastructure. At their cores, nomadic empires relied on the natural biological infrastructure of grass and invested in ideological and social infrastructure built from existing institutions grounded in their pastoral economies.69 They capitalized on established movements, namely the motility of herd wealth and subsistence, as well as the mobility of herder communities, enabled by horses for individuals and carts with cattle for households. All of these were well adapted to the steppe lands of their core realms and to many of the surrounding areas into which they expanded their economic endeavors of empire. Codified institutions of authority and normalized practices of operation, even without formal writing systems, could still include schemes of accounting, ones intimated by tamgas and other markings. But what other material or written evidence, aside from marked bones, can we rely on to describe the structures and operations of nomadic empires? With their minimal physical infrastructure and fluid nodes of power, nomadic empires, their elites, and their communities seem to evade modern cartography, much in the same fashion as they often evaded military forays of rival Chinese regimes. As they were neither nation states nor settled state, technically speaking, they should not be approached as bounded blobs of sovereignty with defined borders. Despite the erection and maintenance of structures like the so-called Great Wall, nomadic regimes penetrated and defied boundaries, reaching deep into foreign lands to extract resources from their markets and depots.70 They were not stagnant polygons of resource containment but rather invasive constellations of resource extraction, in which mobility itself was a resource that produced power differences within the imperial society and counter to competing polities.71 Nomadic societies may be fluid but they are not smooth or without structure. Steppe pastoral communities, even if enmeshed in migratory circuits, were often tethered to particular places in the landscape, be they secure winter camps or potent ritual spots, that formed matrices of operation. Landscapes of pastoralists were readily transformable because the use of the natural landscape and its
16 Xiongnu places by herder households could be, and often were, renegotiated in response to shifting ecological or social dynamics.72 Realms of pastoral polities should thus be delineated less as quantified spaces and more as matrices of people and the (sometimes moveable) places at which they anchored.73 Instead of grand imperial narratives of cities (fixed spatial nodes) as the foci of wealth and resources, we may think instead of elites and other people (social nodes) as the foci of power through whom material capital flowed and in whose hands social capital accrued. This forces us to recognize the politics of space in an empire as enacted through, and variably subject to, the politics of people, especially those at the heads of constituent communities and the networks between them. In short, political space was not fixed, but rather socially constructed by the web of political actors and their operations.74 Social approaches to political space allow us to discuss power centrality in empires as something which could at times be divorced from spatial constraints. Not all empires formed concentric political regions radiating power out from singular metropoles of fixed capital cities.75 Intricacies of political expanses, especially for nomadic empires, reveal patchworks of integrated participating communities that reached across great distances of core steppe realms and vaulted into neighboring regions with dis-embedded enclaves and islands of empire.76 Power was not only mobile, it also could be partitioned into multiple social nodes separated by considerable space yet still unfractured in its execution. In this way, we should not draw a radial diagram or standard cartography of political polygons for nomadic empires of mobilities. Instead, we should conceive of the empire as a punctuated politico-geography; one structured as a social topography of nodal actors in the political networks who collectively operationalized the empire. When mapping out the nodes of a Xiongnu politico-geography across the spaces of Inner Asia, we are still in need of identifiable correlates of the political hotspots. Since local leaders and regional nobles throughout the steppe had to continually cultivate their roles as agents of empire, we may look to the material tools and vestiges of those political engagements. In particular, we may give special attention to the array of imperial matter—the political things that retained capacities for empowering actions derived from and linked to the imperial regime.77 While the Xiongnu built neither roads nor cities (at least not the kinds we so often imagine), they did invest in the construction of elite graves and the maintenance of elite burial grounds. They wielded prestigious and politically charged accoutrements, especially those specifically indicative of the ruling regime, which allowed them to enact the spectacles of politics that demonstrated their participation in the empire.78 Many of these things accompanied privileged persons into their graves. But aside from constructed funerary spaces, much of this political performance would have occurred at or within mobile structures or even
Nomad Protagonists 17 in the natural landscape where vestiges of these activities can still be found in etchings on rocky hillsides. It is among these palettes of rock art, dispersed burial grounds, deposits of luxury goods, and relatively inconspicuous offering places and campsites that we must look for the seemingly thin evidence of empire—a collective imperial matter that can nonetheless provide us with a thick description of nomadic regimes and their fluid empires of mobilities. Chronicles produced by contemporaneous neighboring regimes frequently attempted to grasp the nomadic polities that continually defied them. Yet, much the same as modern scholars, their efforts were encumbered by perspectives that sought to define political regimes as mechanical systems comprising landed bureaucracy and bounded realms. Nomadic polities were organic entities that often acted in seemingly unsystematic ways and could easily refocus their political spaces, reconfigure their regional components, and reshape their social and economic networks. It was their propensity to quickly shift when individual pieces of the regime came under stress that made them spatially incomprehensible to outsiders. But this is what made them durable and successful.79 Nomadic empires were purposefully fluid. They were kinetic entities that “embraced rather than eschewed mobility” and, by doing so, were able to thrive.80 Leaders of steppe communities sought to keep things, animals, and people in motion specifically because they controlled the primary paths and comprised the primary nodes of movements. They could quickly mobilize the motile resources, be they livestock or warriors, easily transfer material and social capital, and, if necessary, shift whole communities across their realms. Nevertheless, historical narratives of nomadic regimes continually consign them to a status of lesser capability. The mobile lifeways that dominated their societies are deemed unstructured and the antithesis of a stable state. But, as I have endeavored to show in this prelude to the story of the Xiongnu, nomadic groups did not merely “wander from place to place pasturing their animals” in harsh or so-called marginal environments.81 They were calculating ecosystem engineers and efficient managers of large webs of pastures, herds, and households.82 And through this they were effective politicians and state builders. The narrative I construct in this book thereby aims to divulge a far more dynamic character of the Xiongnu regime, as one that created an enduring empire of mobilities. Reconfiguring the Narrative World histories persistently portray nomads as marginal peoples inhabiting marginal environments. Steppe realms are deemed neither key central zones of development nor pertinent lands of civilization, and the people within are neither the protagonists nor supporting characters of history.83 They are the antithesis of progress, phantom menaces of civilizations, and rendered “vagabonds of violence” or “architects of apocalypse” who emerge from bleak lands to plunder and
18 Xiongnu cripple nations.84 With the perpetuation of such archetypes, historical research gives way to popular histories and blends into popular media, wherein icons like shadowy Hun warriors with clawed fingertips and rugged horse-riding Dothraki storming in from distant lands continue to plague our historical perspectives of steppe societies.85 Some scholars have endeavored to push back against these prevailing narratives, to present the Eurasian steppes as a center stage of world history and, through this, fight to give a greater voice to steppe peoples.86 But, despite such efforts, nomads are continually relegated to the roles of outsiders and anarchists. Books that specifically address Eurasia are often still encumbered by ill-fitting models like Nomadology and other paradigms that carry with them obstructive conceptual baggage—precepts that the ways of mobile pastoralists are the antithesis of political development.87 Even treatises that proclaim to give primacy to the steppe nomadic voice begin contrarily with vignettes set firmly in the perspective of Chinese protagonists. The Xiongnu indeed should “get the attention they deserve,” but what kind of attention and treatment is that if they are continually branded Barbarians at the Wall?88 If we do not reorient our perspectives, then we are doomed to perpetuate millennia-old tropes of enigmatic marauding nomads. Rather than denying them any capability as drivers of history, we must strive to extract nomadic societies and the political regimes they forged out from the “dark matter of history” and elevate them as equal protagonists of history.89 Instead of continuing to marginalize them, we may provide them their own narrative, with them at the center. But, in the case of the Xiongnu, they did not produce any writings of their own. How then can we create a nomadic perspective history of such steppe regimes, when the only remaining histories are those written by their adversaries? For this, we must not only turn to archaeological materials, but turn over the narratives as they appear in records written by those outside of the steppes. A plethora of chronicled events and cultural descriptions of the Xiongnu exist, albeit within the annals produced by Chinese ministers at the heart of the Han Empire. The first and most famous account of the Xiongnu is provided in the Scribe’s Records (Shiji) compiled at the court of the Han Chinese Empire around 100 bce. In addition to an entire chapter dedicated to the Xiongnu, important information is scattered throughout the more than one hundred chapters of the encyclopedic history. Similar encyclopedic histories followed—namely the Book of Han (Hanshu), compiled around 100 ce and the Han Records (Hanji) compiled throughout the course of the first and second centuries—all of which provided ample attention to and information about the Xiongnu. Chinese scribes also produced records of Han court debates regarding the Xiongnu, the most famous being the Debates on Salt and Iron (Yantielun), as well as personal treatises, like those contained in the so-called New Book (Xinshu) of Jia Yi, on how to deal with the persistent problem of the Xiongnu.90 These
Nomad Protagonists 19 historical corpuses, like their encyclopedic counterparts, provide great introspection into the economic practices and social institutions of the Xiongnu, even if their goal was to determine how to subvert them. Yet while those at the Han court conceived grand philosophies on how to undermine the Xiongnu regime, those at the Han frontier dealt more directly both with raiding parties and with nomadic cooperatives that came to trade at the garrison markets. As such, the large collections of bamboo and wooden documents preserved at Han frontier strongholds, namely Dunhuang and Juyan, contain ample details of the sizes and actions of enemy cavalry brigades and of commerce accounts concerning felts and livestock that steppe traders brought to the frontier markets.91 The hefty court annals collectively provide an abundance of information for constructing a history of the Xiongnu, but chronological issues related to the periods of textual composition or compilation versus the periods of narrative focus create notable disparities. The majority of these records, even the frontier documents from the desert, mostly concern the early era of the Xiongnu (ca. second–first centuries bce). The Book of Han, although compiled around 100 ce, was a retrospective on the early era of the Han dynasty that ended around 25 ce. While the Han Records were composed during the entirety of the later era of the Xiongnu and Han empires and gave full attention to those centuries (first– second centuries ce), this historical work no longer exists in its complete form.92 The encyclopedic tome of the Latter Book of Han (Hou Hanshu), modeled closely on the Book of Han, has preserved much of the information in the Han Records and other contemporaneous compositions about those latter centuries; however, it was not compiled until the fifth century ce.93 This leaves any historian of the Xiongnu with few extant documents dating to the time of the latter Xiongnu generations. The relative dearth of translations into Western languages of the Book of Han and Latter Book of Han, especially in contrast to the copious translations of the Scribe’s Records, have amplified historical attention toward the early centuries of the Xiongnu.94 In efforts to reconstruct eras leading up to the rise of the Xiongnu, a number of the available texts related to the third through second centuries bce actually date to the first century bce, compiled by Han court scholars like Liu Xiang (77–6 bce).95 Despite such chronological gaps, these sources present valuable information and insights for that general era. However, historians must be more wary of textual compositions that leap across radically different time periods, in the way that the Latter Book of Han does. The Stratagems of the Warring States (Zhanguoce), for instance, provides tales of the fifth through third centuries bce, though it was not compiled until the first century bce.96 In this light, all mentions of “the Xiongnu” in Stratagems of the Warring States are Han-era labels applied to northern steppe groups before any group took on the name Xiongnu. Similarly, while the events, political actors, and geopolitics contained in the
20 Xiongnu Latter Book of Han are more or less reliable, historians must still be wary of potential anachronisms in names, knowledge, and perspectives of the fifth century ce applied to narratives of the first to second centuries ce. But chronologies of documents and annals are not the only issue in the writing of a Xiongnu history. If the available written records regarding the steppe empire were produced by the constituents of its adversary, the Chinese empire, then how might one construct a non-sinocentric history of the steppe nomads who produced no histories of their own? Analyses by Nicola Di Cosmo and other scholars of the entire contents of the Scribe’s Records employ a conscious and explicit critique of the agendas of the narratives presented.97 Only through such efforts to understand the lenses through which Chinese accounts of the Xiongnu were constructed may we begin to redress a history that is not just Xiongnu- themed but Xiongnu-oriented. Postcolonial perspectives, which have inspired a multitude of modes for giving greater agency to indigenous groups “without history,” may also afford a greater voice to the pastoral nomads at the heart of the Xiongnu story.98 These efforts require us to reorient our research inquiries and our uses of the available records to give precedence to specifically steppe actors and ontologies. Although Han accounts comprise the sole written sources on the Xiongnu, they can be re- read to flip the script. For the many court accounts of military engagements that dominate stories involving the Xiongnu, I focus less on the lives of the Han generals who launched far-reaching campaigns and more on the ranks and files of the Xiongnu who fought against them. Such particulars, though usually mentioned in passing amid the Han-oriented narratives, provide the necessary substance for a narrative of the steppe empire and its players. Han documents buried beneath the sands at ancient frontier forts can similarly be harvested for significant information regarding the people, communities, and goods that flowed into and out of the steppe during the Xiongnu era. Particulars about foodways and even beliefs of steppe groups can also be extracted from sporadic legends and odes of Inner Asia that were recorded by Chinese literati in compendiums such as New Accounts of Tales of the World (Shishuo Xinyu), Collection of Literature Arranged by Categories (Yiwen leiju), and even the mythically fantastical gazetteer of the Guide to the Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing). If we peel away—or are at least fully cognizant of—the sinocentric normative lens of the available written records, then the histories reemerge as a valuable source for telling the story of steppe peoples and polities.99 All of these scattered pieces of historical data, when collectively brought to bear under new perspectives, provide a far richer understanding of Xiongnu culture, economics, and politics—the content of a Xiongnu-centered narrative. Despite the distilled value of written records produced by outsiders, the archaeological record constitutes a far more emic resource for understanding the
Nomad Protagonists 21 Xiongnu. Remnants of their habitations, ritual sites, workshops, and prestigious goods all contribute to an alternative voice to text-based descriptions. These data can challenge centuries-old narratives and contemporary assumptions alike about steppe pastoralists and their place in world history. But we must be careful that any new narratives are ones enriched not merely with material remains (i.e., by peppering stories already dictated by written records with handfuls of cherry- picked archaeological objects) but rather through the vast corpus of empirically analyzed material remains, taking instead the vestiges of accoutrements, arenas, and activities of steppe nomads as the primary media with which to formulate a history of the Xiongnu Empire. Like historical studies, archaeological research into the Xiongnu has not been without biases, and these must be also taken into account when formulating narratives of the steppe empire. Xiongnu archaeology as a field of study began, unsurprisingly, with explorations of large lavish tombs in the late nineteenth century—of rich burials for ancient steppe people who were initially deemed of an unknown culture.100 This preliminary attention to big tombs launched archaeological studies into narratives of the uppermost echelons of the empire, an upward gaze on par with Han court histories about the steppe rulers with whom they engaged. By the mid-twentieth century, however, decades of work by Mongolian and Soviet scholars had expanded investigations to include burials and goods of all manner and size, resulting in a broader understanding of Xiongnu society.101 Building upon this more multifaceted approach to Xiongnu material culture, a myriad of cemeteries across Mongolia and southern Siberia have since been investigated and a few cemeteries excavated in their entirety.102 From this rapidly growing corpus of data, collective analyses of burial grounds spanning whole regions have provided robust understandings of the more common communities and constituents over which the uppermost ranks ruled and of the social and cultural dynamics within the empire.103 Yet burials alone do not afford a complete picture of how the people of Inner Asia lived in the era of the Xiongnu imperial regime. Similar to the initial attention toward tombs of the rulers, investigations of Xiongnu habitations began in the mid-twentieth century with surveys of a handful of conspicuous walled sites.104 But as studies of burial grounds expanded, so, too, were studies of walled sites augmented by excavations of smaller pit-house settlements, divulging the existence of permanent villages and farming endeavors in the steppe empire for a society that has long been assumed to consist only of wandering nomads.105 While most herders were probably not constantly on the move, the majority of herder households of the Xiongnu were mobile to varying extents, living at ephemeral campsites that remained conundrums to early archaeologists. Their shifting occupations with mobile domestic structures have not left easily discernible habitations. To remedy this void of understanding, systematic pedestrian
22 Xiongnu surveys geared specifically toward identifying ephemeral habitations of early nomadic societies began in Mongolia in the 1990s and have since grown to include intensive subsurface prospections revealing remnants of the vessels, foods, and hearths of household encampments.106 Archaeological materials of the Xiongnu recovered thus far still consist mostly of burial remains. Nevertheless, an abundance of field research projects, along with surges of missions for cultural heritage preservation, have contributed to an exponential growth in archaeological data for all periods over the past couple of decades. Expeditions by regional and national institutions in Russia (especially in Buryatia, Tuva, and Gorny-Altai) and in Mongolia (including universities, museums, and the Mongolian Academy of Sciences) have greatly increased. And so has the quantity of local publications that help disseminate new information. Alongside these local efforts are an increasing number of international collaborative projects that have added to the diversity of scholars and research agendas applied to the archaeology of Inner Asia. Large-scale regional surveys covering entire valleys intensively, or even whole provinces extensively, have bolstered the density of information.107 Expeditions for cultural resource management (CRM) related to reservoirs, road-building, and mining have also been a strong impetus for surveys and excavations, especially in the case of salvage work.108 In Mongolia, such efforts have increased steadily since 2010, with a dramatic peak in surveys and excavations during 2012 and 2013.109 This fieldwork has not only added to the overall corpus of data, but has also amplified the amount of work done in regions outside of central Mongolia, into the Gobi Desert and across to the far western Altai Mountains. Coupled with this growth in archaeological field data has been a recent upsurge in applications of laboratory sciences to recovered materials.110 Metallurgic analyses have elucidated the technologies of bronze smelting and iron production within the steppe realms.111 Studies of carbon and nitrogen stable isotopes from remains of livestock have demonstrated complex systems of herd management.112 The same methods applied to human remains have yielded ample evidence for a drastic increase in the consumption of domestic grains by many steppe communities in the Xiongnu Empire.113 Corollary proteomic studies of dental calculus from recovered human remains have begun to show a notable consumption of horse milk products in addition to those of cow, sheep, and goat.114 Analyses of strontium and oxygen in human teeth have also demonstrated patterns of mobility among the herder communities which were only postulated from historical accounts.115 And while early genetic studies of mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) illustrated general trends of kin and kith relations in communities of the Xiongnu,116 recent research utilizing whole-genome analyses have unveiled dramatic patterns of local lineage and family groupings as well as interregional interactions and population movements affected by the actions of the Xiongnu regime.117 These drastic, and relatively recent, changes in the quantity and quality
Nomad Protagonists 23 of archaeologically derived data offer possibilities for reconstructing the history of the Xiongnu Empire in a far more robust manner than ever before. Both archaeological and historical records offer perspectives and particulars of great value for retelling the story of the Xiongnu. While these sources are often set in contrast to one another, in seeming discord or with one portrayed as handmaiden to the other, they can be recombined in concert to create more informative frameworks grounded in new contexts of understanding.118 In this book, I weave together a comprehensive chorus of voices, material and written, that affords views into the community affairs and interregional enterprises of what was a sophisticated, even if alternative, empire. The Xiongnu heralded an epoch of radical new developments that impacted all of Inner Asia. Pastoral production was bolstered by substantial increases in surpluses of labor and livestock amassing in the steppe, and a highly diversified economy emerged in tandem, one in which mobile households with livestock were augmented by farming villages. Households and community leaders were reconfigured into a nested hierarchical system uniting all realms and mustered for rapid mobilization of staple resources as well as labor and armed forces. Regional elites erected new ritual monuments and arenas of political spectacle, combining techniques and material components of cultures spanning from China to Persia, that pronounced the might and authority of their formidable regime. Royal clans overseeing a web of hordes hence drove forth a new generation of political formation, one with categorical upgrades and substantial expansions, but one firmly grounded in the economic and social institutions that had become far more expansive over the course of the preceding centuries.119 But the life of the Xiongnu Empire was as full of peaks and valleys as any polity.120 It arose with explosive conquests to garner greater resources and then refocused its attention on fostering a singular political culture and networks of movements needed to maintain the vast new regime. All those who participated directly in the empire relished in burgeoning wealth and power, but they also suffered the growing pains of interior and exterior politics, from all-out war with neighbors to civil war among themselves. Yet even though the empire at times erupted in crises, it sometimes also successfully responded to those crises, adapting the spaces and institutions of the regime. The empire eventually did falter under a host of debilitating crises. But the legacy of Xiongnu power and prominence lived on as a foundation for later steppe regimes like the Mongols and as a potent reminder to neighboring regions that those within Inner Asia could rise as dominant economic and political forces. It is only scholars of the past century or so who have abated the pivotal role of the Xiongnu in world history. The opening scene for this book, of the blood oath ceremony with the Chanyu, is one long seen as the pivotal engagement of Han dominance that heralded the protracted demise of Xiongnu authority. Yet once the details of the steppe rituals
24 Xiongnu and treaty stipulations of this event are drawn to the fore, it becomes a story of Xiongnu power. Through a series of investigations that weave together varied corpuses of evidence and span the centuries of the imperial regime, I seek to breathe new life into our understanding of the Xiongnu and of the historical phenomenon of nomadic empires. In this book, the nomads take center stage.
2
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow
H
er burial was that of a noble woman. She was dressed in a fine yellow silk shirt trimmed with red-dyed wool and a long red-and-white striped wool skirt tied with tassels. A fur blanket trimmed with gold leaf was draped over her shoulders like a coat. Beneath her skirt, she wore a pair of white felt stocking trousers with red patterned soles suitable for riding, and her wood-mounted mirror fragment was tucked in a felt bag by her side. But her status was marked as much by the intertwined tattoos of beasts she bore on her body as by the intricate garments in which she was donned. A spotted leopard grappled a wild ram across her forearm, and a magnificent creature with a horse body, raptor-headed horns, and a falcon face draped prominently over her shoulder. Small golden birds flocking around mountain goats decorated her tall felt hat, and winged panthers ornamented her carved neck ring. These were the wild animals of her world and the mythical creatures of her culture, emblems of power among steppe elites in the era before the Xiongnu empire (Figure 2.1).1 In full accordance with funerary rituals for the more privileged members of society, her organs were carefully removed, and her body was filled with grasses from their pastures and hairs from the horses and sheep of their herds. Her eyes were then covered over with clay, her body stitched closed again, and she was laid on her side with knees bent and arms folded, resting upon a soft blanket and pillow of felt. A small stone bowl with fragrant coriander was set near her head. Her coffin, hollowed out from the trunk of a larch tree and decorated with leather renderings of stags, was then nailed shut and set down into a log-framed chamber. She was at last interred in a high mountain valley among burial mounds of her predecessors and peers. The funeral was a grand memorial for the noble woman, but it was also a competitive performance of offering and sacrifice by those participating in the ceremony. They offered up food and drink and fine wares with which to serve. On a blanket laid overtop a bed of stones within the log tomb chamber, they placed two wooden platters bearing sheep and horse meat, the latter having a bronze knife with a handle shaped like a horned beast stuck into the flesh of one of the meaty hindquarters. Two large storage jars were set as well for a feast, along with a stitched leather pitcher and a carved wooden pitcher, its handle decorated as a
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0002
26 Xiongnu
Figure 2.1 Horned composite beast tattoo on shoulder of elite woman, Ak-Alakh. Drawing by M. Nakama, after Polos’mak 1998.
pair of crouching panthers and its milky beverage contents to be stirred with a wooden whisking rod. Consumables were not the only offerings to accompany the woman into the afterlife. Six horses, dressed in gilded bridles ornamented with falcon heads and draped with felt saddle cloths decorated with winged panthers, were slaughtered with a strike to the head by a long pickaxe and laid overtop one another beside the log chamber. Then the burial pit was filled with cobbles, and the tomb was marked on the surface with a large pile of earth and stone. These venerations were exceptional among nomads of the high mountains. The collective goods and offerings signified the elevated status of the deceased woman, categorically above the majority of herders and many community leaders, but so did they pronounce the clout and prestige of those who could demonstrate the greatest ability to honor her. And she was not the only person of such status in the mountainous realms. The high alpine valley in which she was laid to rest contained the interments of dozens of elite men and women, and it was one of many such burial places scattered throughout the northern reaches of the Altai Mountains. The spread of
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 27 these monumental burial grounds designated a collective domain of elites who commanded numerous herder households and an area which sat at a mountainous crux of grasslands, forests, deserts, and trade routes. Rulers of this domain thrived on their abundant herds and on local supplies of ores and furs, all of which they funneled into the far-reaching networks of Eurasia that had flourished for centuries. And yet this powerful entity of the northern Altai was but one of several political conglomerates that punctuated the Inner Asian landscape. These were the polities that paved the way for the later Xiongnu regime, which would conquer them all. Over the course of the first millennium bce, leaders of nomadic groups capitalized on new technologies and traditions to establish strong power bases in the steppe. Composite bows and metal bridles enhanced their armies of mounted warriors, and they fostered increasingly diversified subsistence economies among their herder constituents. It was a pivotal era when local leaders were transformed into regional rulers, elites who cultivated rituals and accoutrements to reinforce their authority.2 As numerous local groups expanded into regional powers, Inner Asia emerged as a mosaic of polities, ones of differing size and might, all economically and politically intertwined with one another and in fierce competition.3 A Matrix of Steppe Worlds Inner Asia was as diverse in antiquity as it is today.4 Although most people relied primarily on livestock for subsistence, they resided in different environments, managed different herds, and engaged with a host of other economic resources. The wide world of grasslands, and the peoples who lived within them, constituted a pastoral mélange of small herder groups and large nomadic states, each culturally distinct yet economically entwined with one another (Figure 2.2). The vast rangelands at the heart of Inner Asia varied greatly between the desert shrubs of the Gobi, the tall grasses of the Kherlen pastures, and the pastures interspersed with forests near Lake Baikal. Most herders raised horses and cattle alongside their sheep and goats, and some managed regionally specific animals like yaks or camels; still others added fish from rushing rivers to their livestock sustenance. In the far northern realms, nomads of the Irtysh open steppe traded with herders and hunters of the Yenesei forest steppe. Horses grazed on more verdant pastures were exchanged for hides of sables and squirrels from the wooded lands. Those in the Sayan and Altai ranges were linked with herders to the south who occupied the intertwined topographies of mountain pastures and desert oases. There, along the fringes of the Tian Shan, between the Taklamakan Desert and the northern steppes, camels were sometimes more common than horses.
Figure 2.2 Inner Asia before the Xiongnu Empire: 1 Pazyryk, 2 Ak-Alakh; 3 Issyk; 4 Nalingaotou, 5 Majiayuan; 6 Hawula, 7 Asgat, 8 Khuzhir- Nuge, 9 Mukhdagiin Am, 10 Jargalantyn Am, 11 Bor Shoroony Am, 12 Tevsh Uul, 13 Erdene Tolgoi, 14 Shande, 15 Yanghai and Subeixi.
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 29 Transhumant herders mined ores from the mountains and traded with settled herders who also cultivated millet and wheat in the low basins. The network of pastoral communities in Inner Asia spanned as well across the web of alluvial fans and alpine passes skirting the Qilian Mountains toward the Yellow River and the Chinese Central Plains. Some herders in this Corridor “West of the River” (Hexi) built permanent villages and cultivated fields, others migrated between the pockets of arable land and arid pastures, moving precious stones and ores to bolster their economies. Despite this dramatic diversity, Inner Asia has nevertheless been consistently conflated into a uniform and unbounded marginal land from which mighty empires enigmatically emerged. Nomadic powers are characterized as bursting forth from the desperate steppe and preying upon the resources of the civilized worlds before abruptly retreating back into the wilds from whence they came. This perception, entrenched in notions of nomads as predatory and even indigent,5 stems largely from the long history of Chinese chronicles that depict roaming herders inhabiting “lands that bear not food.”6 Narratives derived from these accounts render Inner Asia as a monolithic and desolate land beyond the pale, a realm of ravaging bandits and predatory beasts. Many attempts to understand the rise of nomadic empires have rested, even if inadvertently, on these misconceptions, depicting pastoral peoples as lacking any amount of economic stability or diversity.7 Although steppe societies were similar in their herding lifeways, they were far from homogeneous and far from lacking. Their realms were more bountiful than barren, providing robust foundations for thriving political regimes. The following descriptions of the peoples, economies, and cultures of ancient Inner Asia serve to demonstrate its ample resources and fertile politics, which provided the ideal conditions for the convergence of empire under the Xiongnu regime. Animals and ores of Inner Asia were assets to neighboring regions, and some of the earliest Chinese accounts of steppe realms made exhaustive efforts to record the assortment of riches available in lands beyond the pale.8 During the mid-first millennium bce, affluence among the rising Hua kingdoms of the Central Plains drew heavily upon the raw materials and decorative styles of the steppe.9 Rulers continually sought camels and horses as well as jades, furs, and finely made bows from their northern neighbors.10 But, in the course of describing these distant domains, scribes from these Hua kingdoms also divulged tales of fantastical beasts and formidable peoples.11 When Hua rulers and their envoys ventured out from their Central Plains domains into Inner Asia, they encountered a multitude of powerful groups controlled by singular lineages and their leaders.12 These steppe leaders entertained the foreign kings as equals, with feasts along rivers or atop mountains. They bestowed horses, cattle, sheep, wine, and grains in exchange for gold, beads, cowrie shell belts, and other ostentatious items of display, for these were
30 Xiongnu material currencies of power in steppe societies. Through the conspicuous consumption of these materials, entitled leaders fostered cultures of elite status that reinforced their authority and legitimacy. In addition to these textual topographies of powerful lineages, a rich archaeological landscape of stone cairns and monuments throughout the grasslands of Inner Asia demonstrates politically and culturally complex worlds that echoed those intimated in Chinese accounts. As steppe communities increasingly traded and warred with their neighbors, the intensities of their interactions engendered both transregional cultural commonalities and subregional cultural distinctions, from the styles of ceramic pots to the ornaments of prestigious belts to the forms of their stone monuments.13 Each of these cultural spheres developed in equally distinct geographically defined regions within present-day Russia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, and China; these include herders of the central Mongolian grasslands, pastoral enclaves to the south between Inner Asia and the Central Plains, mountain and oasis groups further west, and forest steppe societies of the far north. Pastoral communities throughout Inner Asia utilized similar weapons and embraced ornaments bearing mutually recognizable motifs and designs in a vocabulary of animal-based prestige from resplendent stags to predatory panthers. Yet each region used and displayed slightly different assemblages of weaponry and rendered animal art of the steppe in distinct fashions. In addition to regional particularities, some more localized elite groups within those regions promoted idiosyncrasies in ritual and monumental traditions that pronounced further distinctions between competing factions. Different ideals of which animals and portions to offer the deceased, of how to treat the body, and of how many people to place within a single grave were all employed as culture-specific identifiers for elite factions, which helped them delineate the domains over which they asserted control. In this way, Inner Asia was a closely knit yet multifaceted matrix of distinct pastoral societies. Each sphere demonstrated a collage of particular local identities nested within a body of regional cultural similarities. And, over the course of the first millennium bce, the Eurasian steppes coalesced into an increasingly interconnected “small world” of steppe societies.14 These societies were known by many names to many peoples in the regions surrounding the Eurasian steppes, but the most ubiquitous label was one that underscored military might—“those who draw the bow.” In stone inscriptions of the Achaemenid Empire, nomads north of Persia were collectively called Saka (lit. “archers”). Chinese chronicles about the distant mountains of central Eurasia referred to these nomads with the equivalent name of Sak.15 Mediterranean historians referred to nomads north of the Black Sea by the derivative “archer” name of Skythoi. All of these groups were part of a nomadic cultural phenomenon stretching from the Sayan and Altai Mountains to
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 31 the Pontic Steppe, which modern scholars have since subsumed under the label of “Scythian.”16 In most instances, these peoples were reported as living in portable felt tents, churning the milk of their horses for drinking, sacrificing their livestock at ritual feasts using large cauldrons, and even turning the skulls of their defeated adversaries into drinking cups as a form of intimidation.17 Warriors harnessed horses with metal bits and wielded bone-reinforced composite bows. Elites adorned their equipment and themselves in a variety of ornaments bearing falcons, stags, panthers, boars, ibex, and argali, and with a penchant for gilded display.18 Yet these steppe groups remained genetically as well as culturally distinct.19 They were far more complex a conglomerate than just a monolithic entity and certainly not politically united.20 People in different realms embraced certain cultural commonalities, reflected in materials of weaponry and art, but they were independent peer polities.21 They burst forth in the early first millennium bce, mobilizing pastoral communities and building massive monuments to their leaders in pockets of Inner Asia, particularly in the Sayan, Altai, and Tian Shan regions at the crux between the eastern and western steppes.22 Numerous entities, which we now collectively refer to as Scythians, arose as well in the Central Asian steppes of present-day central, northeastern, and northwestern Kazakhstan.23 With these eruptions of regional elites, pastoral communities in disparate areas of Inner Asia were overtaken by aggressive lineages that asserted authority across numerous locales. They mobilized large forces of mounted warriors from among herder households and experimented with a host of new institutions for the maintenance of robust regimes.24 As they embraced bold new statements of power, they donned increasingly extravagant garments of precious and exotic materials, performed lavish rituals with numerous sacrifices, and erected monuments that declared authority among their constituents. These agendas of exclusive power and sovereignty were pushed as well on their neighbors, expanding control over routes and resources outside their immediate domains. But, by the end of the first millennium bce, these political experiments would be folded into an even larger imperial political endeavor, one emerging out of the Mongolian grasslands, where no extravagant kingdoms had thus far existed.25 Nomads of the Steppe Heartland Eastward beyond the domains of burgeoning regional elites in the Altai and Tian Shan, and northward outside the reach of expanding Central Plains kingdoms, peoples of the Mongolian grasslands had coalesced into their own cultural sphere. Like nomads elsewhere in Inner Asia, they rode horses with the aid of bone and bronze bridle gear, wielded bone-reinforced composite bows, and subsisted primarily on animal products. They knapped stone scrapers for tools, used stone molds to cast bronze weapons and ornaments, and crafted hand-made ceramic
32 Xiongnu vessels with cinched rim designs distinct to their region. And, to distinguish certain members of their society, they constructed conspicuous stone structures in which their elites were laid to rest. These square graves, often marked with large standing slabs, dotted the landscape as intermittent signals of power.26 Members of prevailing local lineages, adults as well as children, were laid to rest in square graves with an assortment of objects, including bead necklaces, bronze ornamented belts, and the trappings of mounted archers.27 Most wore some manner of bone, stone, or ceramic beads and decorated their belts with bronze buttons, roundlets, and other small ornaments; some even donned large bronze buckles with animals or added imported cowrie shells or turquoise beads to their garments. Many of the square grave burial grounds were not sizeable, containing only a dozen or fewer graves. Nevertheless, the establishment of such places pronounced the power of select members of each local community and of their leading lineage, who held high enough status to warrant interment in one of the rectangular stone constructions at an exclusive sacred site. These elites were venerated with burials of roughly the same size, and only a small portion of them were bestowed with offerings of livestock sacrificed from the herds of sheep, goat, cattle, and horses by other members of the communities.28 Livestock offerings usually consisted of only a few remains, sometimes with a scapula on or beside the body of the deceased (Figure 2.3[2]), or heads set beside or atop the body of the deceased.29 On rare occasions, extraordinary elites were laid to rest in larger versions of the stone slab graves than their peers or honored with far more offerings than any others. One such square grave in central Mongolia contained the heads of well over a hundred horses, cattle, sheep, and goats (Figure 2.2[10]).30 In concert with this substantial sacrifice by funeral attendants for the repute of a single local elite, several decorated stone stelae were used as slabs to line the burial pit. These massive stelae, repurposed from the ritual monuments of elite factions generations prior in the valley, had been intricately carved with stylized deer and symbolic belts of equipment meant to represent local leaders from the previous eras.31 Some square graves in other valleys removed the carved “deer stone” stelae from their original ritual sites and used them as conspicuous cornerstones of the slab-marked burial plots or even as burial lids placed over the deceased (Figure 2.3[1]).32 Elites of Square Grave communities purposefully appropriated the ritual landscapes of their cultural and political predecessors, erecting their own stone monuments at the same ritual locales to rewrite the social memory and political landscape of any remnant competitors in the steppe lands.33 They intentionally selected places more densely occupied by monuments of their predecessors, sometimes setting their square graves within previous ritual spaces, or cutting into previous ritual mounds, or even pilfering decorated stones of previous monuments for their own constructions.34
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 33
Figure 2.3 Square graves at 1 Khairkhan Khönd, with stone slabs at sides and “deer stone” stelae at corners; 2 Asgat, with bronze arrowhead, stone scraper, and horse scapula beside shoulders, and belt with bronze ornaments and horse-shaped clasp. Photo 1 by J. Bayarsaikhan; drawing 2 by M. Nakama, after Erdenebaater 1995.
34 Xiongnu As these factions of Square Grave elites rose in prominence, the once relatively dense yet even landscape of local leaders reaching as far back as the mid second millennium bce condensed into fewer and more focused centers of authority.35 Contiguous valleys filled with communal ritual monuments diminished in favor of single intermittent locales whose occupants promoted exclusive burial grounds of square graves and exerted control over neighboring valleys. A few conglomerates in the northern grasslands arose with large cemeteries containing dozens upon dozens of square graves to memorialize generations of elites. And still others, though rare, rose with such great wealth and prominence that they commanded the sacrifice of abundant livestock from herds of their affiliates and the appropriation of symbolic stelae of their predecessors.36 The Square Grave enclaves and their principal lineages constituted more than loose tribal groups with provisional chiefs. Their world was an expansive and politically diverse landscape of greater and lesser factions whose leaders fashioned a tightly woven cultural sphere. And, in a region without written accounts of its social dynamics or political actors, square graves and the political landscapes they embody stand as tangible evidence of the formalization of hereditary leaderships and expanding regional powers, developments that would eventually provide the foundations of empire in the steppe heartland.37 As these ever stronger lineage leaders formed ever larger conglomerates, they not only overtook local preceding factions but also pushed into wholly new regions of Inner Asia. They made forays into grasslands on the western shores of Lake Baikal, incorporating long- established local engagements in hunting, fishing, and sealing into a new predominantly pastoral system.38 They also permeated territories of already established pastoral societies, southward abutting the Yin Mountains and westward, albeit in more sporadic fashion, into the Gobi-Altai and the northern fringes of the Hexi Corridor.39 Herders of the Corridors and Oases The stretch of interlinked lands that skirted between the open Gobi Desert and the high Qilian Mountains was home to a number of different pastoral societies.40 But these were more than just nomads seeking profit from long-distance trade. Herder communities east of the Ejin River augmented their livestock economies by growing crops and some even settled in permanent earthen-built towns.41 Tales of Central Plains rulers venturing westward into this region relate engagements with prominent lineage leaders who gifted them thousands of sheep, cattle, and horses as well as cartloads of millet.42 These textual accounts thereby suggest the presence of agriculture among some of the pastoral communities in the Hexi Corridor during the first millennium bce. Some of the pastoral conglomerates were among those whose mobile herder lifestyles, mounted warriors, and itinerant leaders inspired Chinese chroniclers to coin the term “mobile state.”43 One pastoral group in the western reaches of
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 35 Hexi, later known as the Yuezhi, profited greatly from extracting precious stones in the mountains nearby them.44 Remains of turquoise and jade mines between Barköl and Qilian bear fortified buildings and workshops, demonstrating the investment in extracting as well as defending these important resources of wealth.45 While these Hexi groups appear to have been independent from Square Grave conglomerates to their north, they were intensely enmeshed in the web of long- distance trade that connected the Mongolian grassland communities with the Chinese Central Plains and, more importantly, to Central Asia and realms beyond.46 The crosscutting long-distance trade certainly benefited the local groups, but it would also make them a target of expanding regimes like the Xiongnu, which sought to bolster its own wealth and magnify its power. To the west of the Hexi Corridor lay a vast region of mountain and oasis herders who similarly exploited a wide array of resources to bolster the pastoral bases of their economies. Enclaves scattered across the routes circumventing, and sometimes cross-cutting, the Taklamakan Desert shared many traditions of fine wool textiles and painted red pottery. Such shared cultural conventions helped to integrate the disparate communities into a regional network, much like the network of Square Grave communities deep within the Inner Asian steppe.47 However, these groups often occupied radically different environmental niches with specialized local resources, including ores, plants, fish, reeds, trees, and grains unlike those in the Mongolian grasslands. Large communities coalesced around lakes and basins like Barköl, Turpan, Bosten, and Lop Nur and interacted with smaller herder groups of the low mountains and alluvial plains between them. The Turpan oasis, in particular, was home to a large collective of communities that thrived on abundant livestock pastures, crop fields, and workshops, all of which substantiate later Chinese accounts of the settled agro-pastoral society in Turpan known as Gushi.48 Those within the oasis basin built dense walled towns but also wielded the bows, arrows, and horse gear of mounted warfare. They augmented offerings of sheep, goat, and cattle in their burials with sacrificial pits of whole horses and camels that emphasized the importance of animals of mobility for the oasis center.49 Villages along the fringes of the basin attest to complementary communities whose residents had animal pens and ceramic workshops alongside their earthen houses. Even these peripheral communities cultivated wheat and millet in their fields and fabricated fine textiles from the wool of their sheep herds.50 With the rise of empires like the Xiongnu, the thriving Turpan basin would become a valuable node of production and trade for the taking and would hence be a hotbed of diplomatic and military conflict. Other centers of production and trade, such as Bosten Lake teeming with carp or the Lop Nur “Sea of Abundant Reeds” rife with good horse and cattle fodder, were significant peers of Turpan but were also intertwined with a host of other neighboring groups trading with herder communities that cultivated crops or
36 Xiongnu mined metals.51 Small herder groups, while virtually invisible in the historical and archaeological records, constituted equally important contributors to the flourishing trade of the Western Regions, providing resources to larger communities and critical links for the larger network.52 But the success of the networks of collective communities would make it easier for any intruding regime to capitalize on the circumstances and extract flowing wealth. Further west from the oasis centers, steppe elites residing north of the Tian Shan, or Heavenly Mountains, were among the first outside entities to make forays into controlling parts of these trade networks and nodes. Their communities thrived on verdant pastures and wild fruit groves of the Ili Basin as well as on the ores and grasslands of the surrounding mountain pastures.53 They were known in Chinese accounts as Sai, or Sak, and their kings were among those recorded in Achaemenid Persian sources as Saka. While their most powerful communities resided in the middle Ili and Issyk areas, they also skirted far up the Ili valley to its eastern limits.54 These Saka kings and their affiliates prospered from their position at the cusp between different pastoral polities and along major thoroughfares between the Central Asian hubs of Fergana and Bactria to the southwest and the oasis centers of the Taklamakan to the southeast. Saka elites dressed themselves in buckles and blades adorned with panthers and stags. Their tall hats and tunics were decked with an array of gilded wild animals, including winged panthers mounting alpine peaks, and their clothing was augmented by fantastic animals and geometric shapes, including disc and crescent pieces resembling suns and moons.55 Adding to these ostentatious adornments were the grandiose earthen mounds with large log chambers in which the Saka were laid to rest. As they pushed the limits of their dominion northward toward the Tarbagtai Mountains and eastward along the Tian Shan, such distinctions helped set them apart not only from competing elites of the oases but from smaller herder communities as well. One such extension occurred at the mountain pass north of Turpan.56 There, an enclave of Saka elites who were linked to rulers in the Ili Valley sat in the middle of an alpine area occupied by local herders who resided in permanent stone houses, ground cultivated grains with millstones, and made painted jugs and cups akin to those of the Taklamakan groups.57 The people of this mountain pass retained customs more in common with lowland herders and farmers in Turpan and elsewhere south of the Tian Shan than they did with those of the Saka realms north of the Tian Shan. Yet while Saka elites made notable inroads into the fringes of the Taklamakan region, they were far from the only elite faction pushing into the web of oases and corridors. Factions from the Central Eurasian steppes were intruding into these western regions of Inner Asia and encroaching upon local communities in their efforts to exploit the profitable networks of exchange.
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 37 Herders and Hunters of the Far North By the late first millennium bce, the northern reaches of Inner Asia were dominated by a host of political factions. The exact makeup and location of those recounted in Chinese texts, including the Hunyu, Quyi, Dingling, Gekun, and Xinli, remain vague at best.58 Yet archaeological remains in the Sayan and Altai and their surrounding areas reveal a conglomerate of societies bearing distinct cultures and exploiting diverse resources. Their hierarchical societies and diversified economies corroborate the existence of complex polities in the far north. In addition to livestock provisions, herder communities in these areas relied on a range of wild animals and fish from the abundant rivers and lakes and also augmented their pastoral diets with millet cultivated in some of the local valleys.59 Mineral-rich mountains and timber-rich forests provided ample raw materials for artisans.60 Fur-bearing pelts of sable, marmot, fox, and badger were traded as far as the Chinese Central Plains.61 These Inner Asian realms bore prosperous societies whose leaders were culturally connected yet engaged in stark political competition. Local leaders throughout the alpine valleys and grassland basins bore equivalent belt ornaments, horse trappings, and weaponry that signaled their affiliation with a regionally specific network of nomadic elites, one analogous to yet distinct from the realms of Sakas further west. Most people buried their dead crouched within small stone chambers, often with offerings of sheep and goat portions sacrificed from their herds. Tusks and claws of wild animals hung from their garments alongside small bronze mirrors, as did cowrie shells and glass beads from far-away places.62 They brandished daggers, pick-axes, and arrows that underscored a culture of war, and they carved images of warriors hacking at one another with pick-axes on rock outcrops along the valleys. Brutal stab wounds through ribs and axe holes punctured through skulls of the dead further demonstrate societies that, despite economic prosperity, engaged in consistent combat.63 These were highly contested realms that numerous factions were striving to control, and even the upper elites were engrossed in violent conflict. In their struggles for power, elites of the Altai and Sayan invested great wealth in increasingly grandiose furnishings and rituals. Garment pieces were often gilded or ornamented with twisted stylized images of wild predators and large-horned beasts. Jewelry included a myriad of gold and carnelian beads, and weapons were decorated with animals on the ends of handles or the flats of blades. The broad use of wild combative emblems was complemented by an equally widespread use of conspicuous tomb mounds with large log chambers to venerate deceased members of the leading lineages. The vocabulary of these rites and emblems of power were regionally recognizable when interacting with other factions. Yet, within these seemingly equivalent mortuary arenas, competing factions fostered an array of social practices and beliefs intended to distinguish
38 Xiongnu their members—and thereby the domains over which they asserted authority— from those of their competitors.64 Despite the many cultural homologies among these elites, elements which scholars have wielded for claims of social or political unity across Eurasia in early first millennium bce, the overall region was a fractured and punctuated political landscape.65 Archaeological remains of varied rituals, accoutrements, and constructions across northern Inner Asia reveal a collection of distinct elite factions in the neighboring areas of Minusinsk (Middle Yenesei), Sayan (Tuva/ Upper Yenesei), Altai, Ob, and Irtysh (Figure 2.4). And while some differences in traditions may seem trivial, in their totality they reveal patterns of subregional differences reflective of the pronouncements of different political factions and their societies. Those in the Altai and Sayan areas laid their dead to rest on their sides with knees bent, while those in the Minusinsk and Ob River valleys further north lay their deceased fully extended on their backs. Some elites emphasized drinking jugs in their feasting rites and others emphasized cauldrons of boiled meat. Some groups tended to sacrifice whole sheep, while others offered up whole horses. Minusinsk and Sayan elites constructed large log chambers, often set within stone enclosures, wherein numerous family members were laid together, a practice that emphasized the social prominence of close corporate kin groups over individual status.66 Those in the Ob steppe lands similarly placed numerous people within large earthen mounds, although those within a single mound were interred in separate pits rather than collective chambers.67 Altai elites placed an even greater emphasis on individuals, with members of extended families all set within small log chambers beneath separate stone mounds, albeit in long lines of adjacent grave mounds.68 Although scant textual mentions of elite “lineages” and ruling “kings” residing in lands outside the Chinese Central Plains provide little to no real evidence of kingdoms in Inner Asia, archaeological remains, on the other hand, present tangible evidence of complex social hierarchies and diverse economies indicative of polities in the northwestern reaches of Inner Asia.69 It is an abundance of vestiges from one particular faction to which we now turn that provides us with one of the most detailed pictures of a prominent nomadic kingdom in Inner Asia. These detailed material discussions are important not only for demonstrating the existence of powerful complex polities in steppe lands but also for providing a view of the kinds of social hierarchies and cultural politics that would later provide models for the rising Xiongnu regime. Kingdom of the High Mountains In the wake of nomadic rulers who commanded masses of “those who draw the bow” and dominated pockets of the Eurasian steppes, one faction rose rapidly in power within the northern reaches of the Altai Mountains and projected their
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 39
Figure 2.4 Altai Kingdom and surrounding realms: 1 Pazyryk, 2 Ak-Alakh, 3 Berel’, 4 Tuekta cemeteries and Kurotinskii-Log settlements, 5 Barburgazy, 6 Teltekmen’, 7 Kharganat, 8 Balyk-Sook, 9 Chultukov-Log, 10 Sagly-Bazhy, 11 Tytkesken and Biike, 12 Dongtalede and Kalasu, 13 Fuyun.
authority far and wide. During the early first millennium bce, elites in the northern Altai had been much the same as their Square Grave peers in the Mongolian grasslands. They were laid to rest in stone boxes beneath stone markings as a way to distinguish them from others within their expansive communities. Only a handful of practices, like the sacrifice of whole horses set within adjacent pits, further elevated a select few members to greater ranks.70 These elites were nevertheless overshadowed by more powerful ones in the neighboring Sayan region of the Upper Yenesei, where a handful of rulers were interred beneath massive mounds with multichamber log tombs and honored with the sacrifice of dozens of horses.71
40 Xiongnu But, by the mid-first millennium bce, the Altai elites eclipsed those in the Sayan in a radical, even if not distant, geopolitical shift and adopted ostentatious funerals and monumental tombs of their own. The new suite of practices did not merely separate elites from others in their own society in a simple dichotomous fashion as the stone cist graves had done, but rather came to differentiate between upper elites, intermediate elites, and lower elites. This increasing hierarchization of society was a means for additional centralization of power, and the clear bifurcation between upper and lower elites signaled a burgeoning kingdom rising above its neighboring entities.72 Privileged members of the Altai society engaged a host of materials and customs that added to the repertoire of status. The most extravagant ones were reserved for members of the uppermost echelon, who retained authority over the wider domain of the northern Altai. They donned tall ornate hats and draped finely trimmed fur and wool garments over their tattooed bodies. Riding decorated horses, they wielded daggers and pick- axes along with their sturdy composite bows. And, when they passed away, they were venerated with feast offerings and the sacrifice of multiple horses before they were laid to rest beneath large stone mounds in lavishly furnished log chambers. These were far more than wavering chiefs. They were members of wealthy established lineages with ranked social orders for the maintenance of authority. The large tombs and exotic goods from the famous cemetery at Pazyryk certainly speak to their power,73 but this extraordinary political hub in the Altai was supported by an intricate social matrix and robust economy. The rulers honored at Pazyryk relied heavily on substrata of local elites who facilitated their control of the high mountain realm as well as on the broad base of herder households that supplied the primary resources. While these burgeoning elites were not the sole progenitors of the grandiose rituals and fantastical vocabulary that they used to exalt themselves, they were certainly successful cultivators of existing pantheons of prestige and effective rulers of a powerful polity. To command the valuable raw materials and extra-regional trade that fueled their power, Altai elites operated through structured social hierarchies for control of resources and labor. Even if the Altai was ruled heterarchically by a collection of peer lineages rather than by a single family—for we have no texts to tell us either way—such a ruling faction would still have constituted an exclusive group at the very top of a hierarchical social matrix, exerting authority over a particular domain, its people, and its resources.74 This utmost ruling group, exhibited by those interred at Pazyryk, retained exclusive access to exotic accoutrements from regions as far as the Chinese Central Plains, flaunting their control of long- distance exchanges.75 Beneath this reigning echelon was a broad class of intermediary elites, represented by dozens of stone mound grave sites throughout the Altai, who engaged in increasing mobility between disparate locales.76 They aided the ruling group(s) in their control of herder households whose leaders were
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 41 interred in smaller stone cists. From exclusive high rulers to intermediary elites to local leaders, the constituents of the Altai collectively constituted, in effect, a kingdom (Figure 2.5). Their kingdom rested within ore-rich mountains, forested valleys, and open alpine pastures, and their collective households augmented herding with a variety of crafts, crops, and hunting.77 They produced woolen textiles with spindle whorls for making threads and leather accessories with bone-scraping tools to process the hides. They employed clay molds to cast their own bronze items and used grinding stones to process seeds, whether of gathered wild plants or of harvested crops.78 Those in sparser grasslands of the domains resided among more ephemeral camps with seemingly thinner occupations, yet still with some evidence of craft production, including iron smithing.79 While herders in the more forested northern valleys at the edge of the Altai kingdom had greater access to deer and boar hunting grounds,80 those in the southern plateaus lived in the vicinity of large lakes teeming with fish. Burials of local populations were occasionally placed within habitation areas, but these were simple stone cists with one person and few, if any, offerings. These burials belonged to people from households that formed the buildings blocks of society, people over whom elite lineage members exerted authority and from whom they drew products, labor, and militia. In overt juxtaposition to these common herder households, noble nomads of the Altai dressed in gilded garments, sacrificed valuable livestock and cherished steeds, and erected conspicuous lines of tomb mounds at sacred sites for their deceased.81 Dozens upon dozens of stone mound burial grounds scattered throughout the Altai attest to a multitude of privileged groups. Individually, each cemetery would have pronounced claims of a particular kin group over a certain territory. Collectively, they manifested the matrix of collaborating elites that governed the territories of the kingdom. Most burial grounds had only a couple lines of tombs. The overwhelming majority of tomb mounds, ranging between five to fifteen meters in diameter, exhibited relatively equal degrees of prestige. But not all elite groups stood on equal grounds in the political scheme. Some appear to have been particularly well established, with burial grounds bearing many lines of numerous elites in a single valley. Still others displayed outstanding testaments of power with tombs far larger than most. These larger cemeteries, with a handful of mounds over thirty meters in diameter, occupied the central places of the Altai kingdom, in the high plateaus.82 Such sites were likely memorial grounds for the uppermost political stratum, the handful of high-ranking families that ruled the mountain kingdom. Amid efforts to assert gradations of status among the elite constituents in the Altai, however, violent conflict was still prevalent among even the high ranks. The desecration of Altai elite tombs, including the detachment of heads, signals clashes that may have been the result of aristocratic infighting or symbolic raids
42 Xiongnu
Figure 2.5 Altai cemeteries: (A) Pazyryk, (B) Barburgazy 1. Image A after Rudenko 1960, fig. 1; image B after Kubarev 1992, fig. 1.
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 43 from nearby enemies.83 And numerous cases of stab wounds and arrowheads in bones show that rulers of the mountain kingdom engaged directly in brutal encounters, whether from interregional warfare or internecine conflict.84 A man interred in one of the largest tombs at Pazyryk cemetery died from an axe wound to the head.85 But high participation of elites in warfare does not necessarily mean the society was in turmoil or lacking centralized control. Kingdoms the world over are rife with tales of courtly intrigue and leader-led campaigns against neighboring rivals that ended violently. Nevertheless, if deadly competition was rampant among the ruling factions, then codified practices and paraphernalia that distinguished the Altai elites from rival outsiders and upper elites from lower elites were even more critical.86 Funeral sites were complex arenas of social competition in which elites demonstrated the prestige of their families and substantiated claims of authority. And, just as the mounds over burials varied in size, so did the contents of the burial chambers vary quantitatively and qualitatively. Most people buried under stone mounds were interred in fitted log chambers of various sizes. Some were set on wooden or stone floors and others within coffins hollowed out from large tree trunks. These variations in mortuary investment expressed a spectrum of social status among those who were privileged enough to be laid to rest at stone mound burial grounds. Some individuals tucked within small stone cists, and often beneath smaller mounds, sought still to associate themselves with those of higher status via the privilege of being buried in elite tomb lines.87 In addition to distinctions of burial spaces and gradations of burial structures, Altai elites expressed differences in clout and rank through meat and drink consumed at funerals or interred in honor of the deceased. Still other practices emphasized the common primacy of pastoral wealth and mobility in status with demonstrations of power through increasing the quantity and quality of horses sacrificed or the amount of livestock sacrificed in rituals of burning and deposited in small stone circles flanking the tombs.88 As individual factions returned to the lines of tomb mounds to make successive interments, they may have performed additional rites to memorialize their members who had previously been laid to rest and simultaneously reaffirm their authority in each locale. Altai elites also performed social differentiation with as much material distinction in social interactions among the living as they did in rites for the dead. Some accoutrements, such as sets of bows, daggers, and axes, were ubiquitous and underscored a culture of war. Most people wore necklaces and belts, at times augmented with turquoise, glass beads, or cowrie shells that demonstrated access to long-distance trade networks. But only the more elevated elites wore decorated hats, large belt plates, and fur coats that flaunted their privileged status.89 Men wore curved conical caps decked with ibex, argali, stags, birds, and horses, and women wore towering headdresses with an equal array of wild and domestic animals. Their large belt buckles and broad neck rings were decorated
44 Xiongnu with panthers and horned animals, and their steeds were similarly bedecked with animal decorations. Swirling shapes and falcon head ornaments covered the bridles. Felt saddlecloths were decorated with images of predatory creatures attacking wild animals, and long fringes in the shape of large fish dangled down beside the bodies of their horses. Nomadic elites of the Altai paraded through life in the same manner that they journeyed into the afterlife, covered with images of their wild world and flaunting emblems of predatory might. Among these numerous elites, however, some were deemed deserving of even more ostentatious veneration and ornamentation than others. Whereas the majority of elites who were honored with horse sacrifices were accompanied by only one steed, a very small portion of elites had more than a dozen. The steeds that accompanied them into the afterlife were sometimes even fitted with masks of falcon wings or horns of ibex and stags, transforming these horses into the mythical creatures that embellished the accessories of the upper elites.90 These uppermost elites donned neck rings with winged or horned panthers, and they inked their bodies with wild animals and imposing beasts.91 Although wild animals were standard decorations for ornaments of elites throughout the Altai, fantastical creatures were part of an exclusive vocabulary of force and authority employed by those who retained ultimate status over the entirety of the kingdom (Figure 2.6). These eminent elites were interred beneath large mounds more than double the size of others and within burial grounds in the highest mountain plateaus. By far the most grandiose of them were laid in the tombs at Pazyryk cemetery.92 These exceptional persons were venerated with highly exotic imports alongside the typical elite assemblage of gold and fur items. The range of bronze mirrors they possessed reflected the breadth of their economic exchanges and political connections—from a steppe-style mirror decorated with standing stags to a Chinese mirror with shan (“mountain”) characters to a West Indian rattle- mirror with a horn handle. Felt saddlecloths were trimmed with Chinese silks embroidered with birds and flowers or decorated with court women in the style of the distant Achaemenid Empire.93 Such materials were extremely rare among Altai elites, symbolically elevating those from the singular site of Pazyryk to a status far above any others. These were material demonstrations of their control of interregional trade and their exclusive contacts with far-distant foreign entities. The contours of Inner Asian domains remained porous, contested, and constantly negotiated. Accoutrements and customs were thus essential tools in the cultural politics of expanding domains. Rulers of the Altai kingdom stood at the intersection of several other powerful pastoral conglomerates. They competed with Yenesei communities for control of the taiga forests northward and routes eastward into the Mongolian steppe. With nomads of the Ob and Irtysh, on the other hand, they contended for connections with the Kazakh steppes and Tian
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 45
Figure 2.6 Female elite tomb of Altai kingdom, Ak-Alakh. Drawing by M. Nakama, after Polos’mak 2004.
Shan peaks, which yielded access to westward routes. In order to successfully garner control over long-distance trade, it became critical for rulers of the Altai to cultivate distinguishing practices and paraphernalia for any frontier ventures or constituent elites operating at greater distances. In the northern foothills of the Altai, campsites of local herders were defended with walls.94 Although they engaged in open trade of animal pelts and other materials with groups further north, households in these fringe territories felt a need to fortify their communities.95 Those of the Ob realms not only engaged in different kinds of hunting and herding, but they also engaged with a network
46 Xiongnu of leading lineages who were expressly different from those of the Altai or Sayan domains.96 Yet there were no clear borders between them, and communities of one entity could intrude into the realms of the other. The upper reaches of the Ob River, as it wound through the Altai Mountains and out into the taiga forest and steppe lands, was littered with tombs of both Ob and Altai elite factions.97 Some Altai elites could be found far from the high ranges and deep within realms of the other.98 The territories of Altai and Sayan elites overlapped as well at the edge of the Mongolian Great Lakes Basin, where several burial grounds contain a mixture of tombs bearing both traditions.99 But such places may demonstrate more conciliation than conflict between leaders of different factions, a dynamic that extended beyond peripheral lands. Some cemeteries located deep within the Altai realms contained not only large tombs of the upper elites but also smaller graves of Sayan and Ob constituents.100 Similarly, Altai elite tombs were at times found within cemeteries of otherwise completely Sayan elites, further indicating that there may have been diplomatic exchanges and political collaborations, in addition to armed conflicts, between regional factions.101 Altai elites pushed their agenda southward as well, spreading along the western foothills and the upper reaches of the Irtysh.102 These burial grounds did not comprise the standard lines of stone mounds, and most graves correlated to either the simpler stone cist burials of low-level leaders or the smaller wooden graves with one or two sacrificed horses indicative of the lesser intermediate elites of the Altai. Similar enclaves can be seen among the local elites around Lake Barköl, abutting the realms of the Taklamakan oases, where they embraced influence from the Altai rulers in both their furnishings and ritual practices.103 And while the Altai kingdom garnered great resources from exchanges with neighboring realms and distant ventures, crafts from the Altai also disseminated outward. Wooden items carved with Altai-style wild animal or composite beast decorations were traded to herders in the Turpan Basin and even as far south as the Kunlun Mountains.104 These southern Taklamakan groups were perhaps less formidable than polities to their north, but they were part of the thriving network linked closely to agents of the Hexi Corridor and, in turn, connected to elite factions that dominated the lands adjacent to the Central Plains. Herders Between the Steppe and the Sown Herders along the fringes of the Chinese Central Plains, subsumed under broad names like Rong and Hu, were “each divided and scattered, dwelling among the waterways and gorges, and had their own lords and chiefs. Time and again gathering over hundreds of barbarians, yet none could act as one.”105 These groups utilized trappings of riding and warfare and employed animal- themed ornamentations that boasted a connection to the many worlds of nomadic kingdoms and pastoral powers in Inner Asia. But even with such cultural
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 47 homologies that linked each group to one another and to the vast steppe realms to their north, there are no indications for political or social cohesion across this zone in extant historical or archaeological records.106 When northern Central Plains kingdoms began to aggressively expand in the late first millennium bce, only a few frontier tribes survived, creating power bases between steppe nomads to the north and expansive farming societies to the south. Pastoralists residing in Hexi and Ordos grasslands had for centuries been ostensibly beyond reach of Central Plains kingdoms. Yet during the fourth and third centuries bce they were rapidly overrun by explosive conquests from the south. The kingdoms of Qin, Zhao, and Yan forced their way across critical pastures and displaced numerous hordes of herder communities, establishing their own new colonies and even building large earthen walls to proclaim the establishment of new political borders.107 The massive cemeteries attributable to powerful pastoral elites in the Xing’an Mountains north of Yan virtually disappeared in the wake of its conquests.108 Zhao incursions also dealt destructive blows to swathes of pastoral groups, “annihilating the Danlan, smashing the Eastern Hu, [and making] submit the Forest Hu,” who gave formal submission through the offerings of horses.109 Pastoral groups and their elite contingents across the frontier were being ousted or forced into submission as their lands and resources were appropriated and their herder households were overtaken. In some instances, local herders withdrew from their lowland pastures and retreated to nearby hills.110 And while some burial grounds of local herder elites along the upper bend of the Yellow River were taken over by graves of Zhao colonial communities, most fell into disuse.111 Many of the Ordos groups north and west of the Wei River were similarly made to submit to the Qin. However, a few factions like the Yiqu, appear to have endured.112 Although summarily defeated in battle with their leaders captured, they remained independent entities entangled in intimate relations with courts of the Central Plains kings.113 In this environment, pastoral wealth remained a primary resource of exchange. One frontier trader from Qin, operating in the area northwest of the Wei River, gifted silks and other luxuries to a leader of Rong groups there. “The Rong King then compensated him ten times over, giving him livestock, livestock that reached the capacity of the valley in [many] measures of horses and cattle.”114 These sorts of frontier traders, who then sold livestock in markets of the Central Plains, persisted well into the era of the Xiongnu and Han empires, profiting greatly from their understanding of livestock values and exchange systems of herder groups in the frontier. Steppe communities and their economic engagements persisted even under pressure from southern kingdoms. Areas occupied by “barbarian” polities peripheral to the Central Plains were also located at critical convergences of routes to the distant west and contained valued resources, especially ores and timber.115 Archaeological remains northwest of the Wei River demonstrate the persistence of a pastoral stronghold that
48 Xiongnu controlled an entire tributary valley of the Yellow River. Elites residing within such borderland enclaves retained many steppe rituals and prestigious ornamentation that affirmed Inner Asian affiliations when interacting with their aggressive southern neighbors. At the same time, they adopted their own versions of the retinue of nomadic kingdoms further north, drawing on cultural vocabulary as far as the Altai. Even if altered or reinvented, accoutrements and emblems of northern nomads helped pastoral polities in the frontier cultivate a steppe-style persona linked to a host of powerful kingdoms in the face of infringing Central Plains kingdoms.116 These small yet prominent polities asserted their roles as exclusive intermediaries in a contested frontier. Nomads entrenched in the mountains abutting the Qin heartland adopted numerous goods and practices of both Chinese and Inner Asian kingdoms, proclaiming their importance as a critical power base of interim agents.117 They buried their dead in the same fashion as herder groups in this frontier area had long done—in deep catacomb pits, with livestock heads and hooves on the earthen floor and side niches for interring the bodies of the deceased. Their weaponry comprised both Altai-style pick-axes and Chinese-style halberd-axes. Bronze belt buckles embraced the theme of panthers attacking horned animals, but their garments were densely decorated with elaborate swirls and hatches inspired by the décor of Chinese bronzes. The rulers of this polity flaunted an even greater host of hybrid goods in a flamboyant strategy of pluralistic cultural politics.118 They were buried in catacomb graves with livestock offerings on the pit bottoms similar to their constituent elites, but their grave pits were deeper, with stepped or ramped entries like Chinese tombs.119 Rather than disassembled wooden carts placed beside the burial niches,120 these rulers were given complete vehicles of composite fashions—lacquered Chinese chariots decorated with precious stones and gold or silver ornaments emulating zoomorphic designs of the distant Tian Shan and Altai elites.121 These nomadic elites were as eccentric as the borderlands were contentious. Other pastoral enclaves in pockets of the northern bend of the Yellow River similarly persevered against Zhao conquests. The northeastern Ordos grasslands in particular became a powerful pastoral base in the frontier that asserted strong affiliations with nomadic kingdoms of Inner Asia.122 Many elites in this region “South of the River” soon replaced their geometric bronze belt clasps with an array of lavish gold and silver decorations like those brandished by nomadic elites of the distant Inner Asian kingdoms. Beastly motifs and ornamental forms of the Altai and Tian Shan were also greatly altered in the process of their adoption. Saka neck rings were transformed into diadems with panthers and argali across the forehead. Instead of conical tall hats, Ordos elites donned gold crowns with singular animal mounts (Figure 2.7). Swirl-decorated stags with falcon heads and
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 49
Figure 2.7 Gold crown of falcon-headed stag, Nalingaotou. Drawing by M. Nakama, after Hohhot Museum, Inner Mongolia.
raptor-headed antlers of the Inner Asian kingdoms were reimagined on the top of crown caps.123 Ordos elites interacted frequently with their southern adversaries, and some of their belts of social status were even manufactured by Chinese artisans who produced their own versions of steppe adornments for gifting to the nomadic leaders. Metalsmiths in the Qin capital, for example, crafted molds for belt pieces bearing falcons, argali, and horse-stag creatures.124 This beastly aesthetic of Inner Asia was so potent that elites in the Central Plains kingdoms also implemented
50 Xiongnu such steppe fashions on their own prestigious ornaments.125 Despite closer proximity to the Qin and Zhao realms, Ordos leaders showed greater cultural affinity toward nomadic kingdoms in the far north. But the force of Central Plains kingdoms was relentless. While some pastoral groups remained intact, forming power bases of nomadic elites who cultivated hybrid emblems of prestige in their mediations between polities of the steppe and the sown, most capitulated, fled, or were wiped out. Among Chinese narratives of their conquests are mentions of Hu “northern nomads” at the edge of the lands “South of the River” (i.e., Ordos) who retreated from the brutal campaigns of the Qin further into the steppes.126 These Hu would have relied heavily on alliances with Ordos “kings,” but they were part of a different pastoral realm. Some groups along the northern fringes of the Yin Mountains, just beyond the Ordos, were buried in Square Graves and embraced traditions more akin to those in the Mongolian grasslands.127 If archaeological and historical investigations seek the progenitors of the Xiongnu regime, these Hu hordes and households dwelling in the more sparse steppes between the Ordos frontier and the Mongolian grasslands would be among the most likely ones.128 Inner Asian Innovations When the Xiongnu chiefs launched their conquests in the late first millennium bce, Inner Asia was a patchwork of pastoral societies, each bearing its own cultural materials and practices. Some capitalized on extensive trade networks, others cultivated diverse economies that engaged both herding and farming, and a few developed into powerful regional polities. Grains of the Turpan Basin were part of a trade network that included ores and animals of the nearby Tian Shan peaks as well as fodder from Lop Nur and fish from Bosten. Similarly, agro-pastoral communities of the Yenesei traded with herder-hunters of the taiga forests and Sayan-Altai highlands. Even nomads of the Mongolian grasslands varied in their animals and products, spanning across lush open grasslands where horses and gazelles grazed, arid plains where goats and camels foraged, and pockets of pastures amid forests at the edge of Siberia where fish and furs abounded. Together, these wide-ranging pastoral groups and their leaders engendered a cascade of social and economic innovations that radically transformed Inner Asia in the centuries before the emergence of the Xiongnu regime.129 Hierarchical social structures and flexible economic systems allowed nomadic elites to more successfully manage diverse resources and channel capital to their benefit. Many of them thrived from their central positions as regional mediators of transregional trade, but this required formalized distinctions between the swath of herder households and those privileged families with exclusive access to growing wealth. To this end, they refined institutions of social differentiation
Kingdoms of Those Who Draw the Bow 51 articulated through ritual practices and material assemblages of prestige. At the same time, they engaged such cultural conventions toward efforts of social cohesion among local groups in their expanding domains.130 Given the growth of assertive and transformative pastoral polities in areas such as Altai and Ordos at the edges of Inner Asia, one might then wonder how nomads of the Mongolian grasslands became the dominant force that asserted control over all other areas. Although nomadic enclaves in the core steppe lands of Inner Asia did not engage in the same sorts of political developments, they were increasingly embroiled in precipitous social changes similar to, even if not on par with, pastoral polities elsewhere.131 They may not have established affluent hierarchical kingdoms with elites brandishing ostentatious gilded ornaments, but they consolidated territories and peoples into extensive political conglomerates under the control of exclusive lineages. While kernels of political sophistication were budding in regional entities like the Altai kingdom, the groundwork for supraregional regimes was laid across the Mongolian steppe. The formation of the Xiongnu Empire was thus the successful employment of already effective institutions coupled with the harnessing of existing networks and nodes of power into a cohesive matrix beneath a centralized regime. The varied regions of Inner Asia, with shared steppe cultural elements and pastoral economic traditions, were so inextricably intertwined that developments in one place could be carried over to the other.132 If conditions were favorable, power could quickly shift from one area to the next. Yet what happened in the wake of the pastoral polities of the first millennium bce was not merely a regional shifting of power but a scaling up of power dynamics as well and, in the process, a radical reordering of the geopolitics of Inner Asia. The elite factions that had once borne independent kingdoms in turn became the backbone and building blocks of an even larger political body, one centered in the Mongolian grasslands.
3
Masters of the Steppe
T
he new leader of the Xiongnu was infamous. He had once managed to flee captivity from Yuezhi enemies in the Hexi Corridor, after which his father awarded him a large armed force. He then quickly transformed the company into his personal entourage of men-at-arms, training them with whistling arrows and testing their loyalty.1 Stories abounded of his brigade of mounted archers, and tales arose as well of a violent rise to power. After directing his soldiers to shoot down a prized horse and next a prized wife, he at last tested their loyalty while on a hunt by directing them to shoot down his father with a volley of arrows.2 The man known as Modun was both a leader to be feared and the founding hero of a nomadic regime.3 But Modun arose during a tumultuous time and inherited a weakened people. Decades of deep incursions from expanding Chinese kingdoms had created escalating crises in the southern reaches of the steppe. While Hexi groups to the west and Xing’an groups to the east remained strong, Qin imperial forces tore through the Ordos pastoral strongholds and drove many nomadic groups far north, beyond reach of the Yellow River pastures. It was the Eastern Hu kings who reckoned an advantage against a trodden- down tribe with a new leader. Legend tells that envoys were sent to test the Xiongnu. First, the Eastern Hu agents requested a gift of the prized horse of Modun’s father, a steed that could go extreme distances without exhaustion. Much to the chagrin of his subordinates, Modun granted the horse. He gave more care for his people than for a single horse, he retorted. Then the Eastern Hu kings requested Modun’s most prized wife. He conceded. These diplomatic tests were sufficient signals for the Eastern Hu to begin mounting a westward campaign to invade the lands of the seemingly fearful Xiongnu. Modun’s trap had been set. The last request was for a broad stretch of abandoned land between the two groups, thinly inhabited along the fringes. Many of the Xiongnu subordinate leaders deemed it useless enough to give away if necessary, but Modun’s response was resolute: “Land is the root of the state, so how can one give it up?” According to the tale, all those who had suggested giving away the stretch of land were beheaded.4
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0003
Masters of the Steppe 53 Modun swiftly led his crack troops on a surprise attack against the unprepared Eastern Hu. He wiped out the kings and captured their people and livestock. Immediately afterward, he turned westward toward his previous captors and drove the Yuezhi kings back. He then rode south with his growing army, bringing the remnant kings South of the River under his control. And while the vast realms south of the Orods were embroiled in a long civil war, Xiongnu forces took back lands that had been overrun by Qin conquests. Modun had quickly come to dominate the entire southern steppe, commanding hundreds of thousands of mounted warriors “who draw the bow.”5 Then he turned north to the Mongolian grasslands and Siberian forests. In the eyes of their adversaries, and to hosts of historians since, the Xiongnu arose suddenly and somewhat enigmatically. But Modun and his subordinate chiefs built their new regime out of formidable, albeit disjointed, local leaders who commanded hordes, households, and herds spanning the northern grasslands. Building on the web of established lineage groups from Lake Baikal to the Gobi Desert, Xiongnu leaders cultivated institutions of social structure and political consolidation, many of which they adopted from surrounding Inner Asian societies, in their push for greater power. Yet as Modun and his associates interwove new institutions with existing ones, they disrupted the power dynamics in their own society. The supposed murder of Modun’s father and the subsequent slaughter of all his father’s sons and subordinates was only the beginning of an overhaul of elite ranks.6 The resulting political order ushered in the subjugation of all those who drew the bow and the exertion of supremacy over all of Inner Asia (Figure 3.1). The New Order When the Xiongnu launched their expansionist campaigns, the conglomerate of pastoral enclaves in the Mongolian grasslands were far from a unified society. But although they exhibited no multitiered hierarchies and boasted no lofty rulers, they were well established in their individual territories and capable of mobilizing forces of mounted archers from dozens of households. They were the ideal building blocks of empire. Chinese accounts had long lumped most of these groups together, calling them the “Hunyu lineages” and dubbing them the collective scourge of the north, as those “[who would] steal, rob, invade, and attack the frontier peoples.”7 Broad ascriptions of encompassing names like Hu and Hunyu make it nearly impossible to discern any particular factions within the Mongolian steppe, much less locate the specific lineages that coalesced into the nobility of the Xiongnu. Only after Modun and his associates formulated a new regime and forcefully asserted their authority across the entire Mongolian steppe did the so-called Xiongnu come to have their lineages and ranks recorded.8 By that time, they had already
Figure 3.1 Inner Asia at the rise of the Xiongnu Empire. Core realm and surrounding groups.
Masters of the Steppe 55 transformed their society and incorporated local lineages and pastoral polities into a new order. The radical acts that the new Xiongnu leaders undertook in the course of forging their regime were likely given credence as responses to crises of crippling pasture loss and imminent subjugation by neighboring tribes.9 Modun’s father, Tumen the “Magnificent Myriarch,” had been leader during a time of significant retreat from pasturelands, unable to repel incursions from the Qin and beaten back by the Yuezhi and Eastern Hu as well. The overthrow of Tumen and his subordinate chiefs may have been condoned as the culling of failed leadership, making Modun’s exceedingly successful conquests against neighboring adversaries confirmations of his capability as the new leader. These conquests not only bolstered the authority of Modun as the new leader, but they also fed the growth of a new order. Although many of the institutions that structured the eventual Xiongnu empire already existed in steppe societies when Modun took power,10 they were significantly augmented to accommodate and facilitate the rapidly expanding regime. Mounted warriors wielding composite bows had for centuries been mobilized from among herder households of Inner Asia to supply large forces to burgeoning pastoral polities. As Modun and his company became stronger, they assailed competing steppe groups, “consuming like a worm the various lords . . . making the armed men strong and [making] the small kingdoms move.”11 Despite the execution or forced migration of some leaders and their accompanying hordes, the course of early Xiongnu conquests was conceivably less a path of destruction and more one of inclusion. The new political order had, in essence, been formulated to absorb conquered lords and their armies in a coordinated fashion that amplified the size and strength of the expanding regime. The Xiongnu developed a militarized society that partitioned all communities and cavalry into a decimal-oriented system. Households were organized into units of “ten (or tens of) horsemen” each with designated chiefs. These were in turn nested within a social hierarchy that built upward into units of a hundred(s), thousand(s), and ten thousand(s) horsemen, each with a correspondingly greater chief.12 A similar decimal system had been utilized to structure the Achaemenid military, and a version of this may have served as a model for the decimal system of the Xiongnu.13 As the elites of the Altai kingdom incorporated material components of Achaemenid culture in their own expressions of prestige, it would be no surprise if military technologies and tactics from Persia were also incorporated into some of the Inner Asian systems. What was distinct about the Xiongnu decimal system was the dual military–domestic capacity of its units. Martial grades were coupled with social ranks that structured local communities, their households as well as their horsemen, into building blocks. The ranks facilitated clear hierarchies of leaders at the local and regional levels and allowed for rapid
56 Xiongnu mobilization of military forces and economic resources by agents of the growing empire. Thus, as Modun and his army swallowed up clans and cavalry, they absorbed local leaders into their political hierarchy and recast independent kingdoms as tributary states. Within a few decades, under the command of a long-reigning charismatic leader, a small group of lineages in the lands beyond the Ordos rose to build an imperial regime that overshadowed all pastoral societies. The new sociopolitical order enabled the formation of a new geopolitical order, one that expanded out from the Mongolian steppe and encompassed all of Inner Asia and its surrounding realms. Noble Nomads While this new steppe order pervaded all levels of society, the uppermost ranks, dubbed the “Chiefs of Ten Thousands,” were titles held exclusively by members of a handful of lineages. These dignitaries asserted sovereignty over all other lineages and households, and the systematized social hierarchy maintained their noble positions (Figure 3.2). Although the majority of herder households in the Xiongnu realms may have been “without family or courtesy names,”14 they were still under the control of locally established lineages that did preserve family names and practiced ancestral worship.15 But many of these could have been tenuous, as they were in neighboring steppe societies, where “lineages and surnames are not constant, taking the name of the great men who established them as their surname.”16 Clear delineations were made between the swathe of lesser lineages and the greater clans that controlled large territories and noble titles of the empire, only the latter
Figure 3.2 Sociopolitical order of the Xiongnu according to Chinese records.
Masters of the Steppe 57 of which were prominent enough to bear mention in the accounts of their Han neighbors.17 As the Xiongnu regime expanded, they contended with existing lineages that occupied the vast web of pastures. Shifting political dynamics would have upset many of these lineages, eliminating some, merging others, or even engendering new ones.18 While virtually nothing is known of the assortment of larger lineages that existed before the rise of the Xiongnu regime, once Modun and his associates began their conquests, they solidified their power as noble clans of the empire and maintained their eminence for centuries. Among the noble clans, only the Luandi retained claim to the ultimate position of power in the empire, the rank of “The Magnificent,” or Chanyu, which Modun held. Tumen or other leaders of the Xiongnu may have already borne the title of chanyu, but with Modun’s claims of sanctified power over the entire steppe, the title inflated to Chengli Gutu Chanyu, or “Heaven’s Son, the Magnificent One.”19 The chanyu repeatedly addressed himself as a ruler established by Heaven, claiming he was “born of Heaven and Earth and established by the Sun and the Moon.”20 This contention was bolstered in seasonal offerings to Heaven and Earth, alongside the chanyu’s daily obeisance to the Sun and the Moon.21 In practice, however, the supreme ruler was established by the collective leaders of the Xiongnu noble lineages. In the course of each succession, the next chanyu could be any of the immediate male relatives of the preceding one. If an unfavored leader, even the primary son of a deceased ruler, sought to establish himself as chanyu, he could be in opposition to the combined approval of the majority of tribal leaders. And while such occurrences were rare, they often met with eventual consent rather than widespread conflict. When Modun established himself through a coup, he embarked on a series of campaigns that eventually garnered him approval from the high-ranking leaders of Xiongnu society.22 The highest ranks of the empire were similarly hereditary positions, insofar as they remained, in principle, occupied by members of the same noble lineage groups. These hailed from the royal Luandi clan as well as the noble Huyan, Lan, and Xubu clans. The latter three were secondary clans, tied closely to the Luandi through marital exchanges of yanzhi (consorts) and juci (princesses).23 The Great Chiefs of the Xiongnu stood at the highest level of the decimal hierarchy as Chiefs of Ten Thousands, an ascription that denoted their command of massive forces which often grew larger than tens of thousands of conscripted horsemen. The greatest of these were the Tuqi and Luli Kings, who had the largest domains, followed by Grand Generals, Commandants, and Danghu administrative officials.24 Along with decimal distinctions, each of these higher ranks was further partitioned into divisions of Left and Right, presumably denoting their ascription to respective territories in the East and West realms of the empire. The Great Chiefs selected their own subordinate kings, chancellors, commandants, and lower danghu and juqu officials, and they commanded subsequent chiefs of
58 Xiongnu Thousands, Hundreds, and Tens. They were independent nobles who presided over autonomous appanages of allotted territories within which their constituent herds and households could migrate for pasturage.25 The lowest ranks of the imperial upper echelon consisted of Gudu lords, who came from “different families” than those of the core lineages.26 Despite their nominally noble status of Ten Thousands, these chiefs retained no appanages or subordinates of their own, and they were directly appointed by the chanyu. In conjunction with the Greater Danghu, they formed a retinue of administrators firmly within the control of the chanyu that assisted in governing the empire. The remaining political substrata comprised other “kings” and “great men” who were categorically lesser than the Great Chiefs but were nonetheless critical in linking local communities with the imperial regime and mobilizing forces. They were the core operating agents of the Xiongnu Empire. Chiefs of Thousands, and sometimes Hundreds, bombarded Chinese frontier establishments and other peripheral polities, sometimes augmenting territories but most often reinforcing the authority and reach of the imperial regime. Chiefs of Hundreds and Tens, on the other hand, were the most frequent leaders of raiding parties, perhaps acting on their own interests but collectively contributing to the influx of surplus into the imperial economy. The decimal-based political order related by Chinese court historians suggests a strict hierarchy for the Xiongnu, separating noble nomads from innumerable lesser leaders in a perfectly balanced system. However, mentions of other kings and additional titles imply the persistence of some dominant lineages and supplementary ranks outside of, though potentially on par with, the official ruling nobility.27 The functioning political network presumably consisted of dignitaries and other components that punctuated and interrupted the idealized version of the hierarchy of greater and lesser kings.28 The Xiongnu Empire constituted not a predictable political machine but a growing political organism with a veracious appetite. The structure of the new order afforded an expandable and highly stratified society. It was well configured for incremental incorporations and partitionings of subjugated groups and their constituent households. And it was apt for integrating numerous peoples and regions across the steppe lands into a political body far larger than any of the kingdoms that had come before. Under Xiongnu Reins As Modun and the Great Chiefs sought to enlarge their forces and resources, they routed local lineages and absorbed their herds and households into the Xiongnu social system. Remaining contingents were folded into the ranks of lesser chiefs, who sometimes retained their territories and lineage names. At the edges of expansion, however, rather than stretching the ranks of the imperial network further across large territories, the Xiongnu coerced neighboring entities into a
Masters of the Steppe 59 system of tribute that poured wealth into the hands of the imperial nobles. The fates of the peripheral entities of Inner Asia varied in the onslaught of Xiongnu conquests, but nearly all came to be “under reins of service to the Xiongnu.”29 The early campaigns were brutal and swift. The Xiongnu waged war with rapid forces of mounted archers that grew with each victory.30 After Modun eradicated many of the Eastern Hu kings and captured their peoples and animals, the remaining lineage members splintered, absconding with their herds and households to new territories. Two large groups reformed within disparate mountain areas of the Xing’an, taking the names of their refuge peaks of Wuhuan and Xianbei as the designations for their new tribes.31 The Yuezhi, who had once been Modun’s captors, suffered a series of intermittent assaults from the Xiongnu. The initial assault crushed the Yuezhi leaders and forced them to retreat. Yuezhi groups persisted in pockets of the Hexi Corridor, but the Xiongnu were able to launch campaigns further west, unchecked by their previous rivals. When Modun turned south, toward the enclaves of nomad kings that had held off Qin incursions, he adopted a more accommodating strategy. Kings south of the old Qin fortifications, including the Loufan and Boyang, were brought together under his control.32 These kings remained autonomous, but they were agents of the Xiongnu Empire.33 Their territories became frontier bases for the Great Chiefs and launching points for invasions. Once the Xiongnu regained control of the Yin Mountains, the northern reaches of the Yellow River and the pastures it encircled were yet again a nomadic realm and a seat of power for the chanyu. During the closing years of the third century bce, burgeoning Xiongnu forces held a considerable advantage. The Central Plains were consumed by revolts against the Qin dynasty and conflicts between contenders for the territorial vestiges of the crumbling empire.34 As the first Chinese empire disintegrated, the first steppe empire coalesced. With the Yuezhi and Eastern Hu in check and the Qin in disarray, Modun was able to turn northward to subdue remaining rivals in Inner Asia. Hunyu tribes across the central grasslands, where networks of Square Grave elites thrived, were the first to be subjugated by their Xiongnu peers. The Dingling who dominated the northern forest steppe lands, as well as neighboring northern polities of Quyi, Gekun, and Xinli, were then forced into submission.35 But as the conquering regime expanded its realms and ranks, the appetite of its forces and constituents grew. The empire had to be continuously fed.36 Although some tribes were allowed to retain their sovereignty, all had to submit tribute to the Xiongnu imperial court, which redistributed the wealth among its kings and chiefs.37 If annual payments of cattle, horses, and sheep hides were not transported promptly, defaulting herder households, or the hordes of their respective leaders, risked having wives and children confiscated in addition to other punitive measures.38 By marshalling vast resources and political subservience from all directions, Modun succeeded in accruing sufficient wealth for the
60 Xiongnu burgeoning Xiongnu nobility and their unanimous support of him as a “worthy” ruler.39 With the whole of the eastern steppes under their control, the Xiongnu sought to increase their resources by expanding westward past the Yuezhi, to subjugate pastoral communities along the fringes of the Tian Shan and Altai Mountains. They pacified the Wusun nomads in northern Hexi, the Gushi towns of the Turpan Basin, and the Loulan herders around Lop Nur.40 And, as kingdoms of these Western Regions became their subordinates, so did the Huqie and other nomads of the Sayan-Altai areas bend.41 These were not necessarily fully integrated domains, with inhabitants merged into the decimal society, yet the aims of these conquests were gains more in moveable wealth than in fixed territory. Although the Xiongnu could not command the disparate western kingdoms to embark on military campaigns on their behalf, they could still obtain tribute of “horses, livestock, felt and wool” that augmented the pastoral foundation of the imperial economy.42 The Great Lakes Basin of western Mongolia contained ample saline lakes and rock salt deposits that could have been easily harvested, and salt was valuable for drying meat or fish as well as for preparing hides to make leather.43 Like the rich salt ponds of the upper Ordos, these valued resources would have been a source of contention between local and intruding groups.44 Of even greater value and contention were the fur-bearing animals of the Siberian taiga. By subduing the Sayan-Altai kingdoms, the Xiongnu gained control not only over their ample herds and horses but also over the profitable fur trade. In addition to providing abundant resources for the empire, these far northern and western realms gave access to even greater revenue from the vast regions beyond Inner Asia. Thriving Hellenistic cities that had sprouted from frontier trade hubs of the Achaemenids, and in the wake of migrations after Alexander the Great, were now within reach of the Great Chiefs. As the Xiongnu regime asserted its authority ever more widely, it continually enacted strategies of extraction that did not require territorial occupation. Rather than fully conquering peripheral or distant realms, armies of the Xiongnu conducted far-flung campaigns to coerce major powers into sending tribute. Within a few decades, portions of remote realms like those of the Kangju of Central Asia were also under Xiongnu reins.45 Although the Central Plains empire that emerged out of the Qin civil war did not yield to the Xiongnu in the same manner as the various kingdoms of Inner Asia, it was forced to recede back from the territorial gains of the former Qin dynasty. By the time a single victor had proclaimed himself Gaozu Emperor of the new Han dynasty in 202 bce, Xiongnu lords had already claimed much of the Ordos. Gaozu attempted to combat Xiongnu incursions and claim sovereignty in the frontier, but he inherited a brittle empire of lords reluctant to obey imperial commands. Less than half the realms of the previous Qin Empire were under
Masters of the Steppe 61 direct control of Gaozu, and many of the generals-turned-kings who had fought for him during the civil war soon rose up with dissenting ambitions. When Modun attacked Dai lands south of the Han fortifications in the winter of 201 bce, he captured one of Gaozu’s most formidable commanders, Xin the King of Hann (a small principality of the Han Empire), who quickly surrendered. Xiongnu forces then pushed further south toward the Yellow River basin at the core of the Han realms.46 Gaozu launched a counter-attack with an equally large army, and Modun retreated back toward the northern borderlands accompanied by a seemingly weakened force. But the retreat was a ploy to draw out Gaozu and his army. The pursuing Han emperor was quickly ambushed at a far northern city by a sudden force of hundreds of thousands of mounted warriors, with only a small brigade to protect him. For days, the surrounded Han troops suffered from frostbite and starvation, until Gaozu managed to escape. He succeeded in rejoining the rest of his army in the south, while Modun withdrew northward beyond the fortifications. Neither side achieved bona fide military victory on the field, but the consequences of the conflict soon became a political victory for the Xiongnu. Shortly after, Xin became a general for the Xiongnu, launching attacks against the Han frontier. Other Han commanders followed suit, turning to the Xiongnu regime to further their own ambitions. But when a handful of Xiongnu leaders were inclined to do the same, Modun launched a flurry of raids across the frontier, constantly invading Dai and nearby regions to deter further defections.47 Anxious to resolve mounting fissions within the nascent Han Empire, Gaozu accepted a proposal by his adviser Liu Jing to appease the northern enemies with a costly marital peace treaty.48 The treaty was called a Familial Alliance. While the Han ministers concerned themselves with the language of the peace, making the Xiongnu younger brother to the Han older brother, Modun and his nobles were more interested in the practical terms.49 The nominal familial ties aimed at ensuring peace were consummated by the Han bestowing of a royal princess as wife to the Xiongnu chanyu. The initial ceremony of the treaty obliged Han envoys to journey to the court of the Xiongnu. Liu Jing ventured north to Modun’s camp, taking with him Gaozu’s eldest daughter as a bride as well as thick wadded cloth and fine silk for luxuriant clothing, along with grain, wine, and other foods for feasting provisions—the first payment of successive annual tributes to the Xiongnu.50 Even though the recorded peace policy was shrouded in diplomatic language that seemed to bolster the position of the Han Empire, the so-called Central Kingdom that ruled All Under Heaven had been transformed, in the eyes of the chanyu, into yet another contributor to the Xiongnu tributary system. This opened the door to more provocative aggravations from the Great Chiefs, and Modun continually pushed the boundaries of both diplomacy and the frontier.
62 Xiongnu When Gaozu passed away, Modun again tested the Han court. But rather than addressing the youthful new Emperor Hui, a letter was sent directly to Gaozu’s widow, the Empress Dowager Lü. Modun knew that she, and not her nominally reigning son, was in control of the Han Empire. He wrote, A lonesome and ebbing lord [am I], born amidst lowlands and wetlands, and raised in the open country domains of cattle and horses. Numerous times [have I] reached the borderlands, and desired to rove in the Central Kingdom. Your Highness [now also] sits alone, [while I] reside lonesome and ebbing in solitude. [We] two masters are not happy, with nothing to amuse ourselves. [We should be] willing to use what [we] have in exchange for what [we] are without.51 The offer of keeping one another company was undoubtedly a presumptuous proposal of marriage, and one that ignited great anger in the Empress Dowager. Once she had been calmed by her advisors, who argued against a surely futile campaign northward into the steppe, the court scribe crafted a reply letter for her. The Chanyu has not forgotten [our] Maladied Fief, favoring it with a letter, though the Maladied Fief is [full of] fear and dread. I retreat these days for my own design, old in years and frail in airs, hair and teeth falling out, and taking steps with diminished degree. The Chanyu has heard mistakenly [about me], as [I am] not sufficient for him. The Maladied Fief is without fault, and rightful to be given amnesty. We have two imperial carriages and two teams of horses to bestow on Your Honor.52 Modun replied with gifts of horses and granted amnesty. And the Empress Dowager thus reinforced the appeasing accords of the Familial Alliance through her tribute from the Han “Maladied Fief.” But after a seemingly calm decade, the Xiongnu again launched major assaults against the Han borderlands, stealing away thousands of people and pushing toward the Han capital district of Chang’an.53 When the next Han Emperor Wen was established in 180 bce, he quickly renewed the Familial Alliance.54 The subsequent decades wavered with treaties and invasions, often hinging upon the ascension of a new Han or Xiongnu ruler and the need for personal guarantees of brotherly relations and tribute allotments. Over the years, as periodic raids continued, payments to the Xiongnu rulers swelled beyond the original specified quantities. The Han court, like other entities that paid tribute to the nomadic regime, was ostensibly under Xiongnu reins. All Are Xiongnu Through the course of his long reign, Modun and his nobles forged a vast empire. But the new subjects, as in any nascent polity, were still liable to buck their overlords. When the rising Luandi lineage fashioned an extensive political
Masters of the Steppe 63 hierarchy with itself at the top, it embraced a name with which to proclaim the new regime. Whether the name Xiongnu came from a preexisting clan, or whether it was a completely new name derived from a new territory within the southern steppe lands, the name took on a new meaning under Modun’s reign.55 As he subdued the disparate groups of Inner Asia, the dynastic designation of Xiongnu was employed to subsume them within the growing polity. The incongruent groups of Inner Asia had been reimagined as a cohesive community under the appellation of Xiongnu, and the previously combative entities were now counted as part of a single herd. As their expansive conquests crested, the Luandi rulers boldly announced their imperial assertion to neighboring powers. Even the Han Empire received notice. In 177 bce, in the wake of large-scale incursions by the “Wise” Tuqi King of the Right into the Ordos plains, as well as subsequent raids that breached Han boundary fortifications, Emperor Wen dispatched numerous reprimanding messages insisting that the chanyu rein in his wayward subjects.56 The following year Modun responded directly and judiciously. The Xiongnu regime, he asserted, was sovereign and omnipotent. The Great Xiongnu Chanyu Installed by Heaven respectfully inquires whether the August [Han] Emperor is without illness. The August Emperor of previous times, in speaking of affairs of the Familial Alliance, conformed with the intentions of the letters [of agreement] and cooperated with pleasure. [Now] the Han border functionaries have intruded upon and insulted the Wise King of the Right, [yet] the Wise King of the Right did not ask [permission from the Chanyu] and listened to the plans of [the Xiongnu general] Houyiluhou Nanzhi and others and made opposition with the Han functionaries, severing the agreement of two rulers and defying familial relations of brothers. Despite the profession of fault in his supposedly disobedient son Jiyu, blame for the entire affair was clearly placed on colonial agents of the Han. And although Modun acknowledged the Han older and younger brother conditions of the Familial Alliance, the opening address reiterated his exalted status as endowed by Heaven. The letter then launched further into a counter-reprimand against the Han for not engaging in proper diplomatic behavior. The rebuking letters of the August Emperor have time and again arrived. [I]have dispatched envoys to take letters and make reports, [but they] have not come [back], and Han envoys have not arrived [at our court]. If the Han take this [circumstance] and thus do not make peace, neighboring kingdoms will not acquiesce [to Han authority]. Modun’s threat was two-pronged. Border generals and kings from both sides had already seceded on multiple occasions, and any significant violation of the
64 Xiongnu peace pact would give justification for receiving further defections from the Han Empire. But small principalities along the frontier were not the only ones at risk of rebelling. Some of the large eastern kingdoms in the heartland of the Central Plains realms had already stoked the fires of insurgence. If the Han court was to conduct itself in the fashion of detaining foreign emissaries and refusing to pay respects to those with whom they had made treaties—in this case, the Xiongnu chanyu—then their authority could be justly challenged and their empire subsequently dismantled. Modun then reiterated his firm capacity to punish any disobedient constituents, namely his son Jiyu, but this was a segue to vaunt the prominent and unfailing stature of his empire. Now because petty officials have gone against the agreement, [I]have thus [had to] penalize the Wise King of the Right, dispatching him west to make demands of the Yuezhi and attack them. With the blessings of Heaven, the fineness of officers and soldiers, and the vigor and strength of horses, [we] annihilated and wiped out the Yuezhi, completely cutting down, killing, and subduing them. [We] have secured the Loulan, Wusun, Hujie and the adjacent twenty-six kingdoms. All henceforth are Xiongnu. The various peoples who draw the bow are [brought] together as one house. With such communique, the Xiongnu Empire achieved formal declaration. Conquered lineages and kingdoms often retained nominal autonomy, and the broad assembly of steppe pastoral societies were encouraged to embrace their shared manners of ritual livestock sacrifice, styles of animal-adorned decorations, and traditions of “bow drawing” peoples. Yet all were reckoned as members of an even greater unified political community. The once fragmented Inner Asian landscape of independent lineages and noble “houses” was pronounced as a singular geography of a unified “house.” It was an organized, diligent, mighty, and undaunted political house sanctified by Heaven. The northern lands having been secured, [I]wish to put arms to rest, retire soldiers and men, nourish horses, be rid of former affairs and return thus to the agreement so as to make peace for border peoples and so as to comply with the original [agreement] and begin [again], enabling the young to achieve their adulthood, the old to be at peace in their place, and generation [upon] generation to be tranquil and joyous. [I] have not yet received the intentions of the August Emperor [regarding this], and therefore dispatch the Gentleman of the Interior Xihuqian to offer up the letter and make requests, gifting one camel, two riding horses, and two teams [of four horses]. [If] the August Emperor hence does not wish the Xiongnu to approach the [border] fortifications, then forthwith command the
Masters of the Steppe 65 officials and people to make residence further [away]. When the envoys arrive, forthwith send them [back].57 Modun composed his concluding appeal for peace in language to which the Chinese were accustomed. It came with gifts for the Han emperor, but it also came with admonitions. The Han court would have to behave and rescind much of its territorial claims if it wanted to avoid the wrath of the Xiongnu Empire. In debating whether to attack them or to accept their terms, many Han ministers reiterated that the Xiongnu had demolished the Yuezhi, a long-standing mobile state. The Xiongnu were deemed as powerful as they claimed to be, and the Han consented to another Familial Alliance. Emperor Wen later sent a letter reminding the chanyu to abide by their agreement, yet the letter came with gifts that validated the chanyu’s status as omnipotent ruler. He was indulged with exclusive garments befitting a Han emperor, lavish belt ornaments becoming a lofty noble nomad, and extravagant textiles to bestow on his subordinates chiefs: [royal] garments, one each of an embroidered and thinly silk lined [outer] robe, an embroidered long [sleeved] jacket, and a thinly lined gown of multicolored silk; one fine comb; one gold decorated belt piece; one gold xibi [belt clasp]; ten bolts of embroidered [silk], thirty bolts of multicolored [silk], and forty bolts each of red thick silk and green thin silk . . . to present to the Chanyu.58 Subsequent gifts from the Han court were accompanied by reprimanding letters. Despite their scolding language, the paradoxically lavish endowments divulged problems that must have grown painfully apparent. The peace treaties repeatedly employed the notion of discrete sovereign realms whose borders were not to be breached. The Han sought to delineate their own realms with lines of fortifications, leaving realms “north of the Long Walls [as] the kingdoms of those who draw the bow [and they] accept the commands of the Chanyu.”59 But when Modun’s son Jiyu became chanyu, he launched his own campaigns and made his own treaties with each new Han emperor. Renewals of the Familial Alliance were continually violated by large-scale Xiongnu incursions. And so it was with the next chanyu. Xiongnu assaults reinforced the role of the Han Empire as a source of “bountiful endowments” for the Xiongnu court and of “rich provisions” for the nomadic nobles and their constituents. By the middle of the second century bce, the Xiongnu had forced the Han to open markets throughout the borderlands, allowing nomadic trading parties to “come and go down past the Long Walls.”60 This was a crucial assurance from the chanyu to his subordinates for a thriving diverse economy and personal profits, measures that secured loyalty from the local leaders and affiliate groups. Those who were counted among the Xiongnu were to benefit greatly.
66 Xiongnu Foddering the Regime Despite the legendary statements of Modun Chanyu, the Xiongnu rulers knew that the root of a stable state was not so much land as it was the resources from it—the people who provided labor as well as provisions and products for them. Military conquests were not so much expansions of sovereign territory as they were exertions of control over productive households and the thoroughfares into supply lines of goods and raw materials. Throughout Inner Asia and beyond, the “Xiongnu seized river and mountain passes [and exerted] authority over profits of fields and pastures.”61 As Xiongnu lords extracted taxes from herds throughout the Mongolian grasslands, they also reined in livestock tribute from realms of the demolished Eastern Hu and the conquered Western Regions. Continual raids into the Han frontier ensured as well a steady flow of animals and people that enlarged the herds and households of the imperial heartland.62 As long as the Great Chiefs of the empire retained substantial surplus and a diversity of resources, they could feed the bellies and the ambitions of the local chiefs and communities who in turn gave them power. The diversification and amplification of the Xiongnu economy was achieved in the same manner as in all empires, by exploiting a multiplicity of production systems in different regions and integrating them into a centralized economic system. But even as archaic economies diversified or transformed, they most often maintained an emphasis on one category of subsistence as their main program.63 For most imperial polities the foundational staple was grain. For the Xiongnu, it was livestock. The steppe was a diverse pastoral matrix. Taxes and tribute for the ruling elites were by and large in the form of livestock and hides from pastoral societies of varying compositions—mobile steppe herders, riverine farmer-herders, transhumant mountain herders, oasis farmer-herders, and forest steppe hunter-herders. Hence, animals and their potential products were common threads between regions of the empire. Wool textiles could easily serve as common currencies of exchange throughout Inner Asia and be valued goods at foreign markets like the Han frontier. Livestock could thereby provide a common value system for the exchange and distribution of other non-pastoral products within and through the empire. Wheat and millet, gold and jade—all were funneled through a lens of livestock value as they were consumed and traded. This is how Siberian furs from the north went south to the Central Plains and how silks from the south went westward and beyond. It was how a steppe polity became an economic hub of Eurasia. As goods filtered through networks of exchange controlled by the Xiongnu, the steppe regime and its constituents reaped great profits, enough to fodder an immense empire.
Masters of the Steppe 67 Livestock and Labor Xiongnu communities were fundamentally sustained and shaped by the animals they lived with.64 From meat and milk to hides and hairs, domestic herds supplied the principal sources of food and clothing.65 Households throughout the steppe reared horses, cattle, sheep, and goats with intermittent additions of camels, mules, and hinnies.66 The meat of large and small livestock, cooked in ceramic pots or metal cauldrons, constituted a main staple.67 But so were dairy products of livestock a mainstay of their diet.68 Dried cheese curds served as stores of sustenance carried along with mobile camps,69 and fermented horse milk was a prevalent beverage deemed “beneficial and delightful.”70 Wool, skin, tendon, and bone were used for tools and goods produced in Xiongnu households.71 Sheep scapula were cut into scrapers for processing hides, and small limb bones were made into awls and tubes for keeping iron sewing needles. In addition to felt rugs and tent walls, wool was spun with a range of stone and ceramic spindle-whorls into thread for woven and dyed fabrics.72 Herder households in the steppe exploited numerous other sources of subsistence, adapting to fluctuating environments and changing circumstances.73 In areas nearer lakes and large rivers, fish were often added to the diet.74 Meat from sheep, goat, cattle, or even horse was augmented with occasional wild components from birds, rodents, foxes, deer, and boar.75 Just as the bones of domestic animals were used to make craftwork tools and clothing fasteners, so were parts of wild animals used for ornaments and weaponry.76 Certain falcons were preferential for fletching arrows,77 and deer antlers were used throughout the realms to fashion the reinforcement plates on the ends and the handles of composite bows. While Xiongnu communities may have hunted birds and rabbits with bows and arrows,78 they were more herders than hunters and pastoral products remained the primary components of their economic systems. Livestock also constituted the principal source of redistributable wealth. Payments to Xiongnu elites came in the form of pelts and cloth alongside the sheep and goats that augmented the herds of their wealthy households. Orange- and purple-colored “Hu [cloths]” were traded at frontier markets along with felt and leather products from the steppe.79 Although silks and other luxuriant garments, as well as precious metals, were certainly among the riches accrued by Xiongnu elites, the majority of wealth seized from neighboring groups, whether by tribute or raid, was livestock. And the other major resource taken from outside realms was people. Expanding herds in the core realms in turn required more herders to manage them and larger labor pools to harvest them. Since the carrying capacity of many grasslands in Inner Asia could not support immense herds perennially, large portions of livestock had to be loaned out from wealthy families to other herders for pasturing elsewhere before they were brought back together for reaping the resources of their livestock.80 Shearing and milking often occurred within narrow
68 Xiongnu seasonal windows, requiring large work forces at these peak times for full yields from the collective herds. Sources of labor were thus as important as the sources of livestock. Households of Xiongnu communities provided workers as well as warriors, and Xiongnu raids absconded with people as well as animals. When Xiongnu chiefs gathered with their constituents in autumn to take accounts, they recorded numbers of people and numbers of livestock.81 Autumn months were the final times before large collectives of households dispersed into smaller communities for the winter. The span of warmer months was a critical time for harvesting milk and wool from the herds and for cutting taller grasses after a summer of growth in order to stockpile fodder for the long cold months. For the intermittent communities who also grew millet crops, autumn would have been a time as well for agricultural harvesting on top of the pastoral engagements—millet for feeding themselves and likely also for foddering their animals.82 Households could then endure the winter with food for themselves and their herds, taking refuge in often fixed locations to which they would return and pasturing the animals in grasslands managed specifically for winters.83 The maintenance of herds frequently entailed the movement of households and whole communities to multiple pasturelands, sometimes, though not always, at great distances. Grazing capacities and seasonal conditions of grasslands were not always tenable year round, so herders would frequently “follow grass [in order to] pasture their livestock and cyclically move residence.”84 Xiongnu society was thus not only primarily pastoral but also largely mobile. While individuals could move in great numbers on horseback, families migrated with ox carts and tent homes on wheels (Figure 3.3).85 Most people lived in moveable vaulted tents made of interwoven branches and felt cloth.86 And as they moved through circuits of pastures, so would their “meeting places and markets move about; [where they would] pasture [they would] erect residence.”87 But not all nomads moved the same. As the character of pastures and the makeup of herds varied widely across the steppe, so, too, did habitation patterns—sometimes requiring mobile households to move only a handful of kilometers within a year and other times demanding long-distance migrations.88 Even if herder households did not move much to pasture their herds, they nevertheless retained peripatetic capabilities of wider mobility that enabled them to shift residence in case of environmental or political crises or in case of intermittent opportunities such as long journeys to frontier markets and raiding grounds. The collective mobility of sustenance, wealth, and people helped create a resilient and stable economy. It also produced a well-connected society with which to build an ever larger polity. Cooperative gatherings, exchanges of livestock, and poolings of labor forces were critical aspects of the pastoral system, but they were also the weft that wove together increasingly broader ranges of herder communities in different locales of the empire. Material capital of livestock could be indirectly hoarded through extended herd-sharing. It could also
Masters of the Steppe 69
Figure 3.3 Rock carving of household with cart and tent on wheels, Bayanlig, Mongolia. Batbold 2014.
be transformed, via the rights to taxes and wealth shares, into social capital of debt that was more easily hoarded by steppe elites and transferred across the steppe empire. It was into a framework of livestock, labor, and pastoral production that other major resources such as grains were integrated into the Xiongnu steppe economy. Crops and Ores As the Xiongnu regime expanded its livestock reserves through tributes, taxes, and raids, it also diversified its economic base by fostering engagements in agriculture. Some grains arrived from crop-producing areas outside the steppe, in the form of tribute gifts from the Han, and possibly as well from areas like the Minusinsk and the Western Regions. But the resources stolen from the Han in the course of raids was mostly livestock not crops, and the tribute recorded from the latter regions came in the form of animals and pelts. The Xiongnu and their steppe communities were not wholly dependent upon agriculture from the outside because they were capable of producing their own grains.89 Han accounts acknowledge the three major resources of the Xiongnu as comprising livestock, people, and millet.90 Although some communities of herder households show evidence of the consumption of wheat and barley, millet was clearly the dominant grain of consumption in Xiongnu communities, augmenting meat and milk diets throughout the empire.91 Millet constitutes the overwhelming majority of physical grains found at Xiongnu cemeteries and
70 Xiongnu habitations, including peripheral locales in the Gobi and Altai.92 And millet was so common among households in the core steppe lands that microscopic impressions of millet grains have been found in the paste of their ceramic cookpots and storage jars.93 It was in these areas—near to the major rivers and tributaries of the Selenge, Orkhon, Tuul, and Kherlen—that pit-house settlements emerged during the Xiongnu era, bearing evidence of intense production as well as consumption of crops.94 The pastoral topography of mobile herder camps that had long characterized the Mongolian grasslands was rapidly punctuated with permanent villages, bearing steady pools of labor, produced grains, and other goods for the empire. Xiongnu communities not only grew some of their own grains, they also manufactured their own metals. The pit-house villages whose occupants used iron hoes and plowshares, not surprisingly, had smithing workshops among their collections of homes and storage pits.95 In addition, a number of open-valley workshops also existed, strategically located within the vicinity of deposits of ore and forests for charcoal and using bloomery furnaces with blast pipes to smelt large amounts of iron.96 Two well-documented production sites of the Xiongnu, in the uppermost reaches of the Kherlen and Orkhon Rivers, had numerous iron furnaces clustered into workshop areas.97 A long house structure with an attached room at the Kherlen workshop shows either the addition of buildings meant for associated artisan activities or even the presence of summer houses for the resident workshop crews.98 In addition to iron smelted at large central workshops with skilled metalworkers, many of the mobile households also manufactured their own iron implements.99 Many of the widely utilized items among the Xiongnu, such as arrows, horse bits, buckles, and knives, were made of forged iron.100 Iron, like dairy and wool, was both a centralized industry and a major component of household production among Xiongnu communities. Steppe artisans also cast their own bronze arrowheads for war and fashioned their own bronze belt ornaments of prestige. Copper was certainly more difficult to mine than iron ore, and bronze smelting required several supplementary minerals to make the final products. But bronze production was already well- developed in the steppe and continued to be a major industry of the Xiongnu Empire.101 Just as herds of the steppe communities were augmented through livestock raids and livestock tributes from outside the central realms, so were metals a target of foreign extraction for boosting surplus. Xiongnu raiding parties along the Han frontier were known to abscond with caches of crossbow mechanisms and arrowheads made of bronze.102 Steppe warriors used bone-reinforced composite bows with large iron or bronze arrowheads, not the more cumbersome crossbows with small arrow points employed by the Han armies. But given the
Masters of the Steppe 71 labor, materials, and facilities required for bronze production, already smelted bronze would have been a valuable commodity to take along with stolen animals and people. Pilfered bronze pieces of Han weaponry may have been remelted into items more common to Xiongnu paraphernalia, an occurrence that could explain the small portion of Xiongnu style items with seeming Chinese bronze recipes.103 Whether for staple or wealth finance, Xiongnu leaders sought to increase their operable surpluses. Pillaging spoils increased reserves of animals, people, and metals, and foreign tribute further augmented supplies of animals, grains, and other goods. Open markets and raiding grounds in the Han frontier were thus essential not because of a dependency on specific foreign goods to compensate for an inherently insufficient steppe economy, but rather because of the ambition to bolster surpluses in steppe herding, farming, and craft production necessary for supporting the growing imperial polity, from its constituent households to its ruling elites. Furs and Silks Alongside abundant resources of food and equipment, steppe leaders also desired hoards of luxury goods used to emblematically demonstrate their exclusive membership in the imperial ranks. Belts with depictions of wild predators and fantastic beasts, ornate necklaces of glass and stone, and fine woolen textiles all contributed to accoutrements of high material and symbolic value. Added to this array of steppe materials for elite dress were luxuries from the north and south, namely furs and silks. Xiongnu herders were known to hunt foxes and rabbits,104 but most of the valued pelts were obtained from those living in taiga forests along their northern periphery.105 Dingling realms around Lake Baikal— the “Northern Sea” that abounded with sturgeon and seals—teemed with forests that yielded ample timber and fur-bearing animals.106 Eastern Hu tribes that regrouped in the northern Xing’an Mountains lived on herds of sheep, cattle, and horses but thrived as well on the hunting of stoat, squirrel, and sable.107 As the chanyu and his Great Chiefs exerted control over the resources and trading routes of northern groups, pelts from the taiga would channel into the hands of Xiongnu elites. Chiefs who donned Siberian furs not only flaunted wealth but also boasted access to goods with which to trade further south. Han nobles “delighted in preciosities and exotica” like furs from the far north.108 Hence, Han merchants desired markets on the frontier as much traders from the steppe did. It was for assured open access to northern goods, as well as for overall peace in the colonies, that the Han court gave regular tribute of crops and silks in measured fashion to the Xiongnu court.109
72 Xiongnu Just as processed and fermented grains, like rice from the south, were ideal complements to the millets and wheats of the steppe, silk textiles and batting were the perfect complementary contributions to the luxuriant clothing of Xiongnu elites covered in felts and fur coats. Despite arguments that silk was a frivolous and fragile cloth unsuitable for steppe life or mounted riding, this light textile served as an ideal insulating layer and was therefore a valued material for undergarments and for lining coats and hats.110 Silk was highly valued among chiefs and local communities, but held its greatest worth to the political economy of the overall empire. As the most common valued goods in the steppe were cloth materials, silk fit well into the distribution schemes of woolen textiles and animal hides among the Xiongnu. Bolts of silk were light to transport and held extremely high value for their weight. Moreover, as it was valued by societies throughout Eurasia yet could only be produced outside of the steppe, silk, much like Siberian furs, served as a currency of interregional exchange for the steppe rulers and their constituents. Precious stones from outside the steppe lands were also of great value to Xiongnu endeavors in long-distance trade. Along with carnelian from Siberia, turquoise was a prevalent material for necklaces and belts. Numerous turquoise mines in the Hexi Corridor and Western Regions may have been among the many sought-after resources for which Xiongnu campaigns against the Yuezhi, Loulan, and other kingdoms were launched.111 But not all precious stones retained great worth in the steppe. Jade, while also abundant in Hexi and areas further west, did not seem to appeal to Xiongnu elites. However, because it was highly prized in China and elsewhere, jurisdiction over jade mines and the movement of jade ores were certainly attractive sources of income. Controlling the routes of trade and the distribution of prized materials like fur, silk, turquoise, and jade could produce great profits for the Xiongnu regime. The Spoils of Conquest By the time Modun Chanyu’s reign ended, Inner Asia had been transformed from a series of interacting yet disjointed worlds revolving around powerful kingdoms into a single world whose people and resources were under the command of centralized regime based in the Mongolian grasslands. The Xiongnu managed not only to incorporate a growing number of local leaders, but they also merged regional networks into a centralized matrix. They were able to build a diverse and thriving economy that strengthened their new sociopolitical order. Even the nascent Han Empire was forced to recognize that “the Xiongnu pastures of unexhausted wetlands [lie] to the east, west, south, north and cannot be brought to impoverishment and extremes. . . . Their power is unmatched.”112
Masters of the Steppe 73 Yet a stable and cohesive empire required more than additional conquests to survive. As formal proclamations of the Xiongnu political community were broadcast across Eurasia, it became increasingly necessary to develop stout pronouncements within the provinces as well as at the peripheries. The new regime established institutions for managing its growing surpluses and for maintaining control over its ballooning ranks. The Xiongnu stood to reap great benefits from the spoils of conquest, but measures had to be taken to keep the new regime, and all its acquisitions, from spoiling.
4
Rule by the Horse
A
fter sweeping conquests by the muster of Great Chiefs, Modun Chanyu announced a desire to “let the soldiers and men take leave, [and] nourish the horses.”1 But in this he did not advocate for his Great Chiefs or himself to completely disengage from their horses in order to govern their new empire in the way that Han rulers were advised to do.2 Instead, Modun’s declaration touted the importance of maintaining the animals that enabled itinerant politics and precipitous enforcement. Horses were essential tools of the mobile state. They had already induced many changes in steppe societies during the numerous centuries before the rise of the Xiongnu regime, supporting mounted forces and traveling lords. And, in this vein, the Xiongnu harnessed them in the same way as preceding polities of Inner Asia had, as indispensable tools for propagating a regime of mobilities. While they were not the primary implements for the mobility of whole communities— for that was an effect of the cattle, carts, tents, and herds of sustenance “on the hoof ”—they did foster heightened mobility of individuals and information and greater frequency of interaction. Through this, horses aided in the compression of social space and thereby allowed for the formation of an ever larger political community. Horses were not mere agents of nomadic lifeways: they acted as catalysts for economic and political integration of a broad expanse of disparate steppe communities and were thus integral to the cohesion of the empire.3 Xiongnu leaders sought to nurture the steeds for mobile elites and mobile armies. They did not disengage from mobility: they embraced it and ruled from horseback. Han chroniclers marveled at the formidable forces of mounted archers commanded by their northern neighbors. But they also admired the seemingly supple structure of the Xiongnu nomadic regime. To them, its power was not saddled by a cumbersome territorialized bureaucracy with constrictive regulations. Rather, “lord and vassal [relations] are simple and durable, [such that] the governance of one state is equivalent to one body.”4 The Xiongnu polity was a lean and limber entity that exerted authority expeditiously. The ranks of imperial agents beneath the chanyus were relatively few yet easily marshaled for action. Chiefs great and small presided over their pastures and households by
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0004
Rule by the Horse 75 engaging in nomadic circuits for itinerant governance and thereby provided a dexterous political framework for the ruling hordes. They moved about their respective realms, donning ornate belts decorated with predatory beasts, cattle, camels, and, of course, horses to pronounce their status to local constituents (Figure 4.1). Local chiefs integrated into the imperial network were also critical for the coordinated and continual movement of labor and goods. The horse was not merely an instrument of war; it was an integral component of domestic wealth and foreign trade. It was a means for creating a thoroughly mobile constituency and for affording effective rule. Horses, as well as a host of other instruments and institutions of efficient mobility, made the lean regime stout. The message of the founding chanyu was clear—to nurture the horses was to nurture the empire. Nomadic societies, with their innate cultural capacity for managing fluctuating economies, fluid communities, and broad territories, were accomplished rulers of extensive and diverse domains.5 Nevertheless, the transformation of an apt society into an effective governing entity, especially for an empire, required a reconfiguration of the conventions of pastoral economies and mobile lifeways. They had to be transformed into structured institutions that could organize wealth, households, and militia on a grand scale. But rather than engaging a narrative of how the empire was imposed from the top down, with descriptions of elite chiefs and their monumental tombs, we may consider how it was built as a matrix of communities from the bottom up. To construct a stable nomadic empire, the Xiongnu synthesized syndicates of capital and collaboration into a centralized political system. Communal agreements were rebranded as imperial contracts, and local herds were
Figure 4.1 Bronze belt plate depicting a pair of grappling horses. National Museum of Mongolia.
76 Xiongnu channeled into the political economy of the greater empire. Pastures, peoples, and possessions—all belonged to the Xiongnu. To accomplish this, participant elites at all levels were endowed with rights, ceremonies, and paraphernalia of authority derived from the ruling clans. To understand the full body of the steppe polity, we must unpack all of its components and trace the threads that held it together. The Xiongnu achieved a strong and efficient imperial framework at least in part because the center was resilient. The reins of the regime were secure in the hands of a single royal family. The especially long reigns of two early chanyus— Modun (209–174) and Junchen (160–126)—afforded the stability needed to successfully forge lasting institutions that could mobilize the entire population for war, production, and trade. Although Modun had launched a patricidal coup and “established himself as chanyu,” all but one of the subsequent eight rulers were inaugurated through fully peaceful agreements by the assembled imperial lineage leaders to “be established [by them] as chanyu.”6 Successions were both vertical and lateral, sometimes even with preferences of brothers over sons, but all were confirmed by the royal assembly of chiefs (see Appendix). Modun’s son who succeeded him was the accomplished Right Tuqi King, the chief whose campaigns secured extensive pastures and trade routes in Ordos and Hexi lands. His entitlement as Jiyu Chanyu was apparently uncontested by his peers. Under his reign, treaties were bolstered and conquered realms were consolidated. The next succession went peaceably to his son, Junchen, who reigned thirty-four years. Junchen might also have been succeeded by his own son Yudan, but the transition occurred at a time of heavy assaults from emboldened Han armies, and a brother of Junchen asserted himself more fiercely than the son to the assembly of Great Chiefs. Junchen’s younger brother, the Left Luli King named Yichixia, was a more accomplished general than Junchen’s son. Yichixia seized the opportunity of the death of Junchen to attack Yudan before he assumed the position of chanyu and sent him fleeing to the southern frontier, pleading with the Han to be appointed as a border noble. Once Yichixia had “established himself as chanyu,” he launched a series of successful campaigns over several years across the frontier, assaults that cut down or stole thousands upon thousands of men from the Han.7 His entitlement may not have accorded with the preceding linear successions, but he was still a member of the royal family and his accomplishments against the Han confirmed his superior merit to the lineage leaders. Some lines of succession were more rapid than others, but they were all men descended or who claimed descent from Modun and members of the Luandi clan. Yichixia Chanyu was succeeded by his son Wuwei, who was in turn succeeded by his son Zhanshilu. Being “few in years,” Zhanshilu was demeaned with the nickname “Child Chanyu” by Han chroniclers. Yet he managed successful campaigns against all neighboring enemies of the Xiongnu.
Rule by the Horse 77 When Zhanshilu fell ill and died after only two years, however, his own son was so young that the collective Xiongnu nobles chose to establish his uncle Goulihu as chanyu.8 Goulihu ruled but one year before an untimely death, and succession continued laterally to his younger brother, Judihou. The line of brothers then being exhausted, the next established chanyu was again a son, Hulugu. To some degree, successions were a matter of selecting the most capable ruler, yet they remained among those of the immediate royal family. Challenges to a preordained heir may have occurred, but succession disputes were quickly resolved. Not until the death of Hulugu, over a hundred and thirty years after the rise of Modun, did any significant conflict embroil over successions. For generations the chanyus reigned with durable authority. But they did not operate alone. Even though the steppe empire lacked entrenched bureaucracies characteristic of the Han and other archetypal agrarian empires, the Xiongnu developed institutions that enabled them to rein in a broad expanse of peoples and resources. The organs and limbs of the imperial body were indeed adept, but they were anything but simple. Their complex imperial matrix managed to efficiently collect wealth from and distribute resources to the vast expanse of communities under their regime. Institutions of the Empire Xiongnu rule was at once light and heavy. Communities of the empire were not administered by salaried bureaucrats controlled by the ruling clans. But they were, nevertheless, organized according to a hierarchical and heterarchical system and were still beholden to the Xiongnu nobles for resources and authority. Lesser chiefs employed a suite of protocols and privileges bestowed by the imperial rulers, enacted mandates to direct rewards and mete out punishments, and combined these with pastoral institutions of wealth management already operating among steppe communities to maintain control in their respective locales. The Great Chiefs hence reined in their provinces by empowering local leaders with authority derived from their core ruling faction. The Xiongnu apportioned their realms into the hands of regional imperial elites, “each having [their] allotted lands [within which] to pursue water and grass and to recurrently move residence.”9 In principle, these spatial allocations were devised according to conventions of Left and Right. Kings and generals of the Left Realms were set up in lands eastward, reaching past the Xing’an Mountains as far as Chaoxian groups located in the northern Korean Peninsula. Those of the Right Realms resided in western lands, stretching from the southern Ordos alongside Han domains and extending as far as remnant Yuezhi groups in western Hexi.10 But delineations between East and West were often blurred and could on occasion shift drastically. Chiefs of the Left could at times operate in areas westward like Hexi, just as generals of the Right could campaign in areas eastward. In
78 Xiongnu addition, Left and Right titles were manifested over and again among the ranks of lesser leaders within both eastern and western realms. Left and Right were thus not so much categorizations of territories across imperial domains as they were pluralizations of political titles in order to partition power among an increasing number and scope of elites, all of whom were obligated to the authority of a singular lineage and its appointed leader, the chanyu. To efficiently infiltrate and mobilize lower levels of society, the Xiongnu rulers restructured the web of regional and local elites into a centralized political matrix. The multitude of ranked imperial nobles operated as autonomous units, yet they also answered to any lords higher than themselves in the decimal-based civil-military network, and especially to mandates of the chanyu overlords. The decimal organization of the Xiongnu polity enabled high kings and regional chiefs alike to efficiently mobilize large masses of “those who draw the bow” from different places and for a multitude of missions. Most men in the northern steppe were proficient at drawing a bow and could serve as armored horsemen, having been raised from an early age to first to ride sheep and shoot at rodents.11 Every household was thereby a potential source of trained mounted warriors. Companies of cavalry were organized and marshaled under chiefs ranking from Tens to Tens of Thousands, thereby reaching through the substrata of lesser, seemingly autonomous, chiefs and engaging the entire Xiongnu society. The decimal system functioned not only to marshal forces for generals, but also to muster resources for production and subsistence. People and livestock were the foundations of the imperial economy, and herder households were the primary sources of both. Chiefs who formally bore titles expressed in terms of the number of cavalry under their command were more often described in terms of the number of households under their control. As the ranks of the Xiongnu regime expanded, local systems of production and wealth distribution were merged into regional conglomerates of noble nomads. Pastoral conventions quickly became the social and economic institutions wielded by agents of the empire (Figure 4.2). Patron– client contracts for herd- sharing within single regions were accumulated upward, affording mounting control over immense herds. While animals could not be physically stockpiled, debts and contracts could be socially hoarded. But the accruing herds of Xiongnu nobles required larger labor pools for harvesting the numerous collections of animals for their hair, milk, and meat. Hence, just as elites of the imperial network amassed control over larger and larger herds from debt contracts and raids, so were collective indentures of herder households and captive slaves converted into substantial labor forces for regional lords. Animals and people that belonged to imperial nobles could be apportioned to local communities or lesser chiefs but were easily reassembled and recounted when needed.
Rule by the Horse 79
Figure 4.2 Bronze belt plate depicting horse cart and man with belt and braided hair. Met Museum, Thaw Collection, inv.2004.277.
The practices of steppe pastoralists for efficiently moving about livestock from greater herds and transferring households between community enclaves enabled commanding regional chiefs to easily mobilize staples, labor, and armed forces at increasingly larger scales. Once the authority of the Great Chiefs had infiltrated local communities, networks of pastoral production and distribution, through which local valleys operated and whole regions were integrated, were merged into a single hierarchical system of the larger empire. Locally embedded systems became the social and economic implements enacted by agents of the empire and wielded by rulers of the empire. Through the decimal system, individual communities and their material capital were easily integrated into larger economic collectives. Inner Asia became a nested body of local ranges within regional provinces that were in turn assets of the sovereign domain of the Chanyu and his Great Chiefs. Surpluses of wealth that accrued locally were channeled upward through an efficient system of pastoral institutions and decimal structuring, while wealth surpluses acquired through long-distance interpolity exchanges were distributed downward through the same network. Along with control over the allotment and use of animals and people came the hoarding of pasturing rights. Most families may have owned a good portion of the animals they herded, but the empire and its agents would have controlled access to the grass that nourished the animals.12 While herder households retained the capacity to move locations in order to access new pastures, those movements, amid intersecting communities and overlapping pastoral circuits, would have been coordinated by a handful of local elites.13 In this scheme, sanctions for large- scale movements outside of regular pasturing cycles, whether to buffer against
80 Xiongnu ecological crises or respond to political pressures, were the prerogative of chiefs of the imperial network.14 Chiefs of the Xiongnu were not so much retainers of wealth as they were nodes of wealth, managing the flows of resources and stockpiling social capital more than material capital. Concurrent with entitlement in the decimal system was the authority to accumulate contracts of livestock and grass, the privileges that gave them control over the movements and allocations of resources in their respective regions. Yet chiefs of all ranks had to demonstrate control over the distribution and consumption of wealth. Ritualized ceremonies of consecrations and redistributive gifting were conducted with practices and paraphernalia that invoked the authority of the Xiongnu regime. “Hence, the Kings of Felt and Fur, the Chiefs of Hu and Hao, circulated precious [commodities], coming with offerings to raise up in commendation of [their] subjects.”15 The Xiongnu regime empowered provincial chiefs with great wealth and authority, but those endowments created a dependency on the ruling factions and the resources of the greater empire. Regulations and Accounts Xiongnu chiefs managed wealth and arbitrated allotments according to specific codes. Most rules of inheritance were systematized toward the goal of maintaining possessions of households within their respective communities. Sons of a deceased father would marry any of their stepmothers to prevent the splintering of wealth, and wives of any deceased siblings would also be married to their brothers to retain family assets.16 Yet, similar to the punishment for peripheral tribes failing to provide tribute payments, any people within Xiongnu society convicted of crimes would have their households and associated wealth confiscated by agents of the empire.17 This was but one way in which chiefs of the Xiongnu regime could impose upon and extract from the shares of local communities. Spoils from raids and battles were also given in measured fashion. Any person who presented one head of an enemy after combat was “granted one cup of alcohol, and from that which is captured from the enemy is accordingly taken and bestowed upon them.” To the same effect, if they were to carry back a corpse of any of their fallen companions, they would then “gain completely the household and wealth of the deceased.”18 In this manner, the ruling nobles could repeatedly intervene in matters of wealth inheritance and shift the fortunes of local households. However, most wealth accrued by elites was perpetuated through taxes regularly extracted from the herds of subordinate households and through the agreements of cooperative herd-sharing doled out from wealthy households. Much of this movement of livestock likely occurred in autumn when animals were “fattened” and herds were at their optimum, taking the opportunity to make
Rule by the Horse 81 accounts of livestock as well as people.19 Even though Han records declare the Xiongnu were “without written documents, taking spoken words as contracts and bonds,” Xiongnu chiefs must have had a means to manage the circulation of animals and laborers.20 Contracts for herd-sharing or grazing rights may have been ratified as oral agreements, but this did not preclude the use of some manner of record keeping.21 In order to keep track of orally “sanctified” contracts, chiefs of steppe pastoral groups were known to “carve wood for dispatches [of wealth]; although without written characters, the tribes and the people dared not disobey or violate [the oral agreements].”22 No written records or remnant law codes of the Xiongnu have been mentioned, much less discovered, not as they have been for the Central Plains regimes. But snippets of Han historical records and bits of archaeological remains collectively hint at systems of accounting by which chiefs of the empire managed their resources. While the Xiongnu may not have developed a formal writing system, a broad assortment of markings on bones, pots, and other items suggests an intricate system for accounting, production, and marking ownership.23 Complex symbols bearing geometric shapes, mostly trident and S-forms joined to central circles, were made on pottery, bronze, and bone. These symbols, known as tamgas, served to designate possessions of dominant clans of the Xiongnu. A number of sheep anklebones found at cemeteries and settlements bore some of the tamgas as well as an even broader array of designs including sunbursts and house structures (Figure 4.3). The majority of markings, however, consisted of hatch marks, plus signs, and squares.24 Although more mundane than the often intricate tamgas, they intimate practices of enumeration that could have been utilized alongside signs of ownership. Xiongnu elites likely relied on a combination of such abbreviated markings on carved materials like bone or wood, setting accounts while still making “their contracts and bonds light [and] easily mobile.”25 The appearance of plus signs and tamgas on the bottoms of ceramics indicates this system was important also for the ingredients of storage vessels.26 Some icons were extremely dense squares of grid lines that could have represented a number of things ranging from rows of sown or planted agricultural fields to the warp and weft of woven textiles. Both crop fields and cloths were significant components of the steppe economy, and symbols for these items would have been important for keeping accounts of goods and resources. Anklebones also bore icons resembling plant stalks, perhaps the tops of tall grasses cut for fodder or perhaps the seed-bearing tops of grain stalks. In either case, these were food sources for animals or people. One anklebone with a plant mark on the upper face also had several hatch marks on the rounded end (Figure 4.3[4]). This implies a means of numbering for the plants. The title of Lord of Millet Establishment and Distribution, a position appointed by the chanyu, infers a
82 Xiongnu
Figure 4.3 Xiongnu markings on sheep anklebones, Grave 3 of Tomb 1 complex, Gol Mod II. Drawing by Mara Nakama, after Erdenebaatar et al. 2002.
centralized administration over farming fields and the grains they produced.27 A system of icons, including possible crop fields and grain stalks, along with a means of keeping numbers etched onto pieces of bone could have been employed in local communities as well as in the noble courts. As advisors and administrators of the Han permeated the steppe empire, they surely brought with them other techniques of record keeping to the Xiongnu courts. Tales of defecting Han consuls recount them as teaching “the Lefts and the Rights of the Chanyu [how] to make allotment records in order to calculate and take note of their people, livestock, and goods.”28 No records written in Chinese characters on wooden slats, so frequent in the Han realms, have yet to be found.29 And only a couple of small ring-handled bronze seals, such as those used by all levels of Han nobles and officials, have been recovered in the steppe. But these did not bear collections of Chinese characters. One bronze seal from the northern Xiongnu village of Dureny had a singular line drawing of an ibex
Rule by the Horse 83 ram.30 This implies that foreign accounting techniques were repurposed with steppe practices of symbology. Taking into account the continuous correspondences between the Han and Xiongnu rulers, there were clearly those at the court of the Xiongnu Chanyu who could read and compose letters in Chinese. Whether or not the practice of ink and brush writing on wood was disseminated into the camps of the regional kings or even of the local chiefs is almost impossible to ascertain. But the finding of small stones with black deposits, determined to be ink, placed in graves of elites in the northern reaches of the Xiongnu realms at least opens the possibility.31 Even so, there are no indications that the tools of Chinese writing, whether or not they appeared in local contexts, were used to render Chinese script. Those at the court of the chanyu may have incorporated some elements of Chinese writing, even if just to compose correspondences with the Han, but these did not appear to have been widely adopted by communities of the Xiongnu. A functioning system of symbols and accounting was already in use. Ceremonies and Customs The chanyu and his Great Chiefs embraced a host of rites that reinforced their right to rule. The Heavens were honored through regular ceremonies, with leaders paying homage to the sun in the morning and to the moon after sunset.32 Offerings to these entities of the heavens bolstered the power of the ruling chanyus, as they were proclaimed to be the sons of Heaven and “established by the Sun and Moon.”33 Even after death, chanyus could give important mandates, voiced through the shamanic mediums at court.34 The Xiongnu worshipped an entire pantheon of deities with sacrificial offerings. Some, like Jinglu a god of Heaven, were even venerated with metal statues.35 But the most important venerations were those to ancestors, who represented the collective authority of the lineages that controlled the regime. Seasonal meetings of elites with their constituents were at times accompanied by rites for spirits and gods or Heaven and Earth but were consistently consecrated with ritual offerings honoring their ancestors.36 Funeral ceremonies entailing the sacrifice of animals from their herds and the endowment of graves filled with foods and prestige items also emphasized the importance of elite lineages and their deceased members, whether of the royal clans or of powerful local families.37 As such, practices of the Xiongnu elite reinforced among chiefs of the imperial network the authority of the regime of Great Chiefs and fostered solidarity among their constituents. Sacral events were often accompanied by social rituals at periodic gatherings. Feasts featuring animals offered from herds of the hosts or guests, whether for funerals or for other occasions, provided opportunities for leaders to flaunt their access to wealth. Rib, rear, vertebrae, and shank portions of livestock could be cooked in large bronze cauldrons with loop handles—accoutrements
84 Xiongnu for communal feasting that were more grandiose than the normal ceramic cook pots for daily use (Figure 4.4).38 An assortment of drinking ceremonies, with cups of brew bestowed amid an assembly of people to symbolize the bequeathal of wealth, may have served as well to consecrate labor, livestock, or grazing contracts. All of these were bonds that relied heavily on nonwritten formulations and performances. More elaborate ceremonies employing implements like symbolically charged cups, knives, and spoons were conducted for consecrating valuable pacts.39 A host of concoctions could be served at prominent social ceremonies. Horse milk liquor was clearly the preferred—and perhaps more esteemed— beverage among the Xiongnu.40 Yet beverages mixed with additional elements like gold flakes or made from the milk of other animals could be used for special circumstances. When Huyandi Chanyu and his entourage entertained diplomatic emissaries from the Han court, he offered them cow milk liquor. But even when hosting foreign dignitaries, attendants of Xiongnu assemblies made no major alterations to their actions or attire on behalf of the visitors. The instance of serving bovine alcohol for an audience with the chanyu may have been a gesture only of mediation to Han representatives, as cow’s milk alcohol was also consumed in the Han realms. For the most part, materials for ritual consumption
Figure 4.4 Xiongnu cooking vessels, Burkhan Tolgoi. (1) Ceramic cook pot with wave-line design, (2) bronze cauldron with foot and handles, and (3) ceramic cookpot with wave-line design and foot. Institute of Archaeology, Mongolia.
Rule by the Horse 85 accorded with codified practices of the Xiongnu nobility. Cauldrons, ladles, and other items were of the same form in elite households throughout the empire, and consumables such as horse milk became socially charged components of Xiongnu culture.41 While some concessions may have been made, such as providing cow milk liquor, foreign emissaries were also expected to observe Xiongnu protocol. Gaining an audience with the ruler of the steppe empire required a complete stripping of emblems that represented any rival regime, most especially the Han, as well as obeying Xiongnu conventions for revering their Magnificent One: “[By] Xiongnu law, those Han envoys who do not conform to discard their [garment] tallies and to have their faces marked with ink are not allowed to enter the vaulted tent [of the Chanyu].”42 Stripping off bronze, jade, or ribbon items was temporary, but tattooing one’s face would have been a permanent mark of having conceded to the authority of the Xiongnu ruler. Han defectors who became members of the chanyu’s entourage fully adopted Xiongnu customs, donning “Hu garments and [tying their hair in] spinal [braid] knots.”43 The customs and costumes of Xiongnu distinction were of great importance when engaging with agents of contending polities. As diverse groups were incorporated into the empire, a political culture developed that both accommodated varied regional traditions in Inner Asia and augmented them with conspicuous elements particular to the new regime. Material demonstrations of participation in and allegiance to the Xiongnu Empire were critical for leaders of associate groups as well as for individual agents who shifted loyalties between regimes.44 Among the most immutable of Hu-Northerner practices were “covering over one’s hair” with a draping cloth hat and “tying tunics to the left.”45 Han defectors would accordingly bind up their garments on the left and weave their hair into long braids.46 When Lu Wan, the life-long companion of the first Han emperor Gaozu, abandoned his Han rank as King of Yan, he absconded northward into Xiongnu realms and was given the title of King of the Eastern Hu by Modun. To formalize this, he tied his hair into a long braid and donned clothing of the northerners.47 Hair braids were highly symbolic among the Xiongnu, so much so that people would cut off their long woven hair and offer it in burials of the elites.48 While draping cloth hats seem to have been a long tradition in Inner Asia, “spine-shaped” braids may have been a specific component added to, or otherwise elevated in importance for, a set of conventions that identified a person as a participant of the greater Xiongnu political community. Conventions for demonstrating membership in the steppe empire were crucial to local and regional elites alike. Ritualized feasting and drinking, as well as ritual venerations for ancestors, provided occasions of communal proclamations and symbolic consumptions of wealth. It was during these gatherings that social bonds and political distinctions were reinforced. While few specifics are given in historical records for the actions entailed in these ceremonies, burials of the
86 Xiongnu Xiongnu provide more detailed introspections into the codified practices and accoutrements employed by elite factions. Remains of sacrificed animals and burial offerings show the kinds of rituals that served to reify political cohesion and accentuate political gradations among constituents of the steppe empire. Beastly Badges In the wake of Modun’s conquests, there was a need to symbolically reinforce the notion of all provincial lineages of the various Hu as being “all Xiongnu.”49 Soon after the declarations of steppe empire there emerged a normalized material language of prestige among elites in Inner Asia that articulated participation in the Xiongnu regime. This was most apparent in ornate belts and the intricate animal- themed bronze plates that decorated them.50 Belts of the Xiongnu were recognizably modeled on those of preceding steppe societies. Belts adorned with cowrie shells had long been materializations of social capital among steppe groups, and they continued to be prominent gifts during the early Xiongnu era.51 As demand for cowrie shell belts grew with the expanding ranks of the empire, however, some began to be made with imitations using river shell, bone, and even bronze. Belts were adorned with a variety of other small objects as well, including carnelian beads, bronze hanging pieces, and claw-shaped stone ornaments. Even after wars broke out with the Han in the late second century bce, Han bronze coins were also used to decorate steppe belts. But the most prominent and prestigious pieces were large openwork bronze badges with an array of beasts (Figure 4.5). For generations before the rise of the Xiongnu Empire, precious metal ornaments were an essential component of prestigious belts. Pieces referred to as shibi, a name connoting some manner of spirit bird or other auspicious beast, were central to Hu attire.52 Hence, it is no surprise that in 176 bce a cowrie shell belt and precious metal shibi ornaments were gifted, along with Han royal garments, from the Han Emperor to the Xiongnu Chanyu Modun.53 And while rulers, chiefs, and other elite men of the Xiongnu brandished ornate belts of high status along with their bows and arrows, women donned the most elaborate belts with beastly badges. Whereas male belts were at times fastened with a large round-ended clasp, female belts were fastened with a pair of broad disc rings and large rectangular plates. Many of the large belt pieces were made with polished stone, sometimes etched and sometimes inlaid. But the most esteemed varieties were cast as openwork bronze pieces rendered with intricate depictions of livestock wealth, auspicious creatures, or nomadic scenes. Women, through their dowries of livestock, were often the center of social politics and thereby the focus of wealth demonstrations through ornamentation. At the end of their lives, prestigious ornaments and animal offerings within their burials further exhibited their importance in social networks of the Xiongnu.54
Rule by the Horse 87
Figure 4.5 Bronze belt plates of elite women: (1) Pair of grappling horses, Derestui grave 107 (after Minyaev 1998); (2) panther attacking deer, Daodunzi Grave 6 (after Ningxia et al. 1988); (3) pair of facing yaks, Ala-Tei grave 19 (after Kilonovskaya and Leus 2018); (4) panthers attacking serpent creature, Salkhityn-Am grave 7 (after Ölzibayar et al. 2019). Drawings by Mara Nakama.
88 Xiongnu Conspicuous icons of nomadic elites in the steppe had long comprised primarily depictions of wild animals—panthers, falcons, argali, ibex, and stags— and in the era of rising kingdoms these were joined by fantastic composite horned beasts—bodies of horses or panthers bore split hooves or raptor faces and sprouted stag antlers with falcon heads. These latter beasts were the same manner of creatures that had been tattooed on the bodies of high elites in the Altai kingdom or mounted on the crowns of the Ordos kings. They were perhaps analogous to auspicious creatures of the eminent shipi belts gifted to Xiongnu leaders, but they were certainly icons taken from traditions of subjugated nomadic elites and repurposed as emblems of Xiongnu imperial power. For the Xiongnu, these collections of animals and beasts served jointly as echoes of conquered realms whose leaders had once donned them and as emblems of current collective political power. Elites of the steppe empire expressed power through an entire collection of wild animals and fantastic beasts that roamed Inner Asia, yet they also drew upon creatures from the cultures of other foreign groups that dominated Eurasia. In conjunction with horned falcon creatures of steppe derivation, some belt plates among the Xiongnu also bore dragon-like serpents, likely inspired by traditions further south in the Central Plains. Xiongnu belt pieces reflected the steppe world and resonated the surrounding worlds over which the nomadic regime claimed command. More important than the pantheon of mythical beasts, however, there developed an unprecedented emphasis on domesticated animals of mobility as symbols of power. The once rare depictions of horses, camels, and even cattle or yaks became prevalent images on elite belts, placing domestic themes on par with wild ones. In this vein, there also appeared nomadic scenes portraying riders, wrestlers, and cart drivers (e.g., Figure 4.2). Through depictions of predation and combat, of wild and domestic, and of steppe beasts and armed horsemen, these bronze belt ornaments demonstrated military might as well as pastoral wealth. These were the badges of nomadic elites associated with a vast and prosperous empire. While a range of different emblems was possible for these badges, each of the possible themes was purposefully executed to replicate the same scenes and components of belts in peer communities. Local elites sought to brandish paraphernalia that expressed full participation in the same political regime and in strict accordance with its accoutrements. Subtle stylistic details and techniques of manufacture nevertheless betray regional particularities. The image of two grappling horses, for example, appeared in uniform fashion on bronze belt plates throughout the empire, even at the far northern, western, and southern frontiers. Although found in similar contexts on belts with cowrie shells and Han coins, borders of the plates and small details of open-work decoration of the otherwise
Rule by the Horse 89 uniform scene exhibit variations indicative of different workshops (Figure 4.1 and Figure 4.5[1]). In addition to distinctive decorative details, analyses of metallurgic recipes also demonstrate a multiplicity of production centers for the otherwise equivalent ornaments.55 Bronzes produced along the southern frontier were often of lead and tin alloys, whereas those produced in the Sayan-Altai region were more often of arsenic and copper. Bronze plates in Mongolia and Transbaikal, on the other hand, show mixtures of tin, lead, and arsenic. This could signify another local technique or it could have resulted from the remelting of bronze items coming from varied sources that flowed through the realms of the Xiongnu Empire.56 Despite the uniformity of belt ornament structure and the prevalence of equivalent scenes and motifs throughout the empire, some themes were regionally specific. Horses, falcons, horned composite beasts, and even serpent creatures were worn throughout the empire. However, geometric patterns and pairs of facing yaks occurred almost exclusively in the Sayan-Altai region along the northwestern periphery.57 Scenes of nomadic life were found principally on belts of elites along the southern frontier with the Han Empire, where an emphasis on steppe nomadic ontologies helped pronounce a realm that was culturally as well as politically distinct from the agricultural communities of the Central Plains. These prestigious accessories provide a narrow yet detailed introspection into the dynamics of centralization and regionalization simultaneously at play. Ornate belts, as well as mentions of drinking ceremonies and their accoutrements, were only some of the codified practices and paraphernalia that constituted a culture of political discourse for enfranchised participants of the Xiongnu regime.58 Amid strategies of accommodation to local traditions aimed at relieving the tensions of imposed sovereignty,59 the assertion of a unified empire nevertheless continued to be the primary focus of political culture for the Xiongnu rulers. Body of the Empire Communities throughout Inner Asia emphasized pastoral livestock in both their subsistence and rituals. But the Xiongnu, as any empire, comprised a broad range of resources and peoples under a single regime. Textual records and material remains together elucidate a variety of economic engagements within the realms of the Xiongnu. Although most communities certainly engaged horse- riding warriors wielding composite bows, did all “those who draw the bow” and “follow livestock in pursuit of grass and water” adhere to the same set of cultural practices? An overarching political culture may have proclaimed cohesion, but those communities whose leaders brandished emblems of the empire and participated
90 Xiongnu in its political network often maintained local cultural traditions of their discrete regions. Not all peoples were equally enfranchised members of the political network of the empire, and not all communities were equally integrated constituencies. To more fully comprehend the weight and influence of the Xiongnu within its proclaimed domain, we must place the polity and its realm under the microscope. The following examination employs archaeological remains of settlements and cemeteries to elucidate the variety of participating communities and how they were organized into the hierarchical regime of the steppe empire. People throughout the central Mongolian grasslands engaged in mobile pastoralism, performed similar rituals of animal sacrifice, and were participants in a rapidly expanding regime of “those who draw the bow.” Many local constituents during the earliest decades of imperial formation donned belts lined with cowrie shells (real or imitation), wielded bone-strengthened composite bows, and were laid to rest in stone-lined pits somewhat reflective of earlier Square Grave customs.60 The broad realm of people who had once buried their leaders in similar stone square graves continued to bury elites in equivalent fashions, even though new structures and traditions were employed. Bodies of the deceased were still lain straight, as they had been before, but they were increasingly set within rectangular stone cists or wood plank coffins. These containments for the deceased were set at the bottom of earthen shaft pits, with the heads and hooves of livestock and sometimes cook pots or storage jars placed in the pit beside the deceased.61 Over time, previous styles and conventions of food vessels were superseded by ubiquitous gray ceramics, including cylindrical cook pots, large wide-mouth bowls, and broad-shoulder storage jars, which often bore incised wave-line designs or polished striations around the neck (Figure 4.4).62 Whereas lesser interments were often in shallow earthen pits with little to no surface markings, more ostentatious burials were set beneath broad rings of stones several meters wide. These ring graves denoted those who were members, to varying degrees, of the larger imperial network. Elites who participated in the Xiongnu regime were more often interred in wood plank coffins, and many of them wore belts bearing inlaid stone plates or ornate bronze belt pieces emblematic of the steppe empire. A brief description of burial customs is given in the Scribe’s Records chapter on the Xiongnu, though this depiction, like much of the Han narratives, pertained more to the upper elites of Xiongnu society. It states that “when they send off the dead,” they would inter them in inner and outer wood coffins, adorn them with gold and silver, and dress them in fur and silk. It even states that, unlike their Han royal counterparts, they did not bury them beneath mounds or planted trees, though several tens or even up to hundreds of male and female attendants would “follow them in death.”63 The details of this account may seem incongruous with the corpus of ring grave burials that occurred within the core regions of the Xiongnu Empire. However, a host of immense ring-marked graves measuring
Rule by the Horse 91 dozens of meters broad might epitomize interments of the uppermost Xiongnu elites akin to the tombs of wooden chambers with wooden coffins accompanied by graves of those who followed the deceased noble as described in Han historical accounts. The vast burial ground of Chikhertiin Zoo, with more than three hundred graves in the heart of the Mongolian grasslands, contains considerably large ring graves. Surface markers average 15 meters in diameter and include several 20-to 25-meter graves as well as one 50-meter-wide grave with eight accompanying satellite graves.64 One recently excavated tomb bears a 20-meter wide stone ring and is flanked by two smaller ring graves. The burial pit is a 12-meter deep shaft and contains a log chamber measuring 4.7 × 3.2 meters broad and 1.5 meters tall. On either side of the chamber were the disassembled pieces of two four- wheeled carts, one with iron fittings and the other with gilded bronze fittings. This practice is similar to one of the noble graves at Pazyryk, in which an entire four-wheeled vehicle was disassembled and placed beside the large wooden chamber.65 The tomb chamber at Chikhertiin Zoo was heavily looted, as almost all large Xiongnu graves were, leaving virtually no artifacts behind. Yet the remaining bronze dish and small gold foil decorations suggest highly luxuriant furnishings for the deceased. The bronze and rare gold accoutrements along with massive burial structures would have expressed a measurable difference between imperial nobles and their local subordinate elites who were interred in smaller ring graves (Figure 4.6). Social differentiations are evident as well between elite members of individual locales. Areas such as Baga Gazaryn Chuluu in the northern Gobi had several burial grounds for a multitude of lineage groups, each of which had individuals of varied social status within the greater community. Some people were buried beneath small piles of stones and dressed only with iron belt buckles, stone beads, or bone ornaments, while others were interred in wooden coffins and bestowed bronze buttons, hanging ornaments, and openwork belt plates, including one depicting a large falcon attacking an ibex.66 Habitations of the Xiongnu also varied greatly, from ephemeral sites in open valleys and hillside niches to permanent riverside settlements with pit-houses, exhibiting considerable differences in economies, lifeways, and social statuses. Campsites used by herder households varied in location and density according to seasons—smaller groups in winter and larger collectives in summer—and most likely also by the herds and wealth of the household enclaves encamped at the sites.67 Numerous remains have been found at ephemeral habitations of the Xiongnu—including bones of animals eaten, ceramic vessels used, and hearth spots for tents. And while social differentiation can often be subtle in archaeological remains of campsites, significant differences in the footprints of the consistently used campsites and in the presence of prestigious objects like Han coins left behind can be discerned between different mobile households groups.68
Figure 4.6 Map of Early Xiongnu Cemeteries (numbers) and Settlements (letters). 1 Chikhertiin-Zoo, 2 Baga-Gazaryn-Chuluu, 3 Solbi Uul and Khudgyn Tolgoi, 4 Salkhityn-Am, 5 Khirgist-Kholoi, 6 Ivolga, 7 Derestui, 8 Daodunzi, 9 Xigoupan, 10 Ershijazi, 11 Zhaojia, 12 Ongnuid, 13 Xichagou, 14 Zhalainuo’er, 15 Wangong, 16 Sanjiazi, 17 Terezin/Ala-Tei/Urbyun, 18 Zamyn-Ötög; 19 [Mankhan], 20 [Dongcheng]; 21 Esnoe; 22 Tepsey, 23 Tsagan-Khushu, 24 Belousovo, 25 Pazyryk, 26 Yaloman-II, 27 Aiding, 28 Jiaohe, 29 Shirenzigou (Dongheigou), 30 Chawuhu, 31 Chunhua, 32 Chang’an (and Kexingzhuang); 33 Yan kingdom (Xinzhuangtou), 34 Chu kingdom (Shizishan/Bojishan), 35 Jiangdu kingdom (Dayun), 36 (Handan), 37 Kul-Tobe, 38 Zhaman-Togai; A Kharganyn Khönd, B Talyn Gurvan Kherem, C Zaan-khoshuu and Talyn Dörvön Kherem, D Boroo, E Bayan-Under, F Ivolga; G Katylyg, H Baikalskoe. Sites in brackets indicate findings of Xiongnu belt plates.
Rule by the Horse 93 Disparities in structures and contents of residences at permanent settlements provide even clearer evidence of social differentiation within and between communities, similar to the wide spectrum of interments at burial sites. Pit- houses of most riverside villages, like Boroo, were square structures ranging between 4 and 6 meters, and their subterranean structures were heated with corner hearths that vented into stone-framed benches along the walls.69 Some settlements, such as Zaan-Khoshuu, had both pit-houses and larger surface-built houses. One house pit was much larger than standard houses at Boroo and elsewhere, measuring 10 × 7 meters and containing a jar fragment with an etched design of a dragon-like creature.70 The nearby surface building, several hundred meters to the south, was roughly the same size, but it had raised earthen walls and six stone paved rooms. This building was also enclosed by a surrounding square earthen rampart 150 meters wide and further augmented by smaller structures with enclosures abutting the northern wall. This manner of building complex would have been a far more conspicuous structure than the low- lying log- roofed pit- houses of other villages, or the woven- branch felt-covered tents of pastoral campsites. But these were not the grandest of the Xiongnu establishments. A handful of even more prominent places with buildings atop platforms and large interior spaces surrounded by high earthen ramparts attest to Xiongnu investment in built centers for imperial leaders. The largest of these were erected in the upper region of the Orkhon River. The complex of Talyn Gurvan Kherem, tucked in the foothills of the Tamir tributary of the greater Orkhon, consists of three consecutive enclosures, spanning between 450 and 350 meters wide. Inside each of the large enclosed spaces are several small mounds flanking large central platforms more than 35 meters broad. The pounded-earth platforms were covered with floors of clay brought in from nearby sources, and the edges were lined with one or two rows of columns made from larch tree trunks and set into deep post holes.71 In contrast to smaller enclosures like Zaan-Khoshuu, the paucity of refuse within the three large enclosures implies that these spaces and buildings were not for mere habitation.72 On the other hand, those few remains found within the enclosures at Talyn Gurvan Kherem suggest the spaces were used for ritual practices rather than habitation. A sheep skull and shank with potsherds were set into the main platform of the central enclosure, and two burial pits flanked the main platform of the western enclosure. One pit contained remnants of a wood coffin and a Han mirror fragment; the other contained the body of a man with traces of an arrow shaft beside him, though his head and one arm were missing.73 This rare site of multiple monumental enclosures has been equated to a ceremonial center of the imperial court.74 Narratives of Xiongnu nobles within the Han histories recount large gatherings in autumn to make accounts of herds and households, as well as smaller assemblies of the Great Chiefs, once at the end
94 Xiongnu of winter and again in midsummer at a place called Long-cheng—the “city” of “Long,” where the court of the chanyu resided.75 Whereas ritual offerings were made to ancestors on each occasion, the summer gathering at Long-cheng also had ritual ceremonies in honor of numerous steppe deities and of Heaven and Earth.76 Given the relatively extraordinary scale of this triple enclosure complex, especially in contrast to ephemeral campsites and to pit-house villages of the Xiongnu realms, it most likely was a center of activity for high elites of the Xiongnu Empire. A large cemetery with almost three hundred graves, only a few kilometers away, underscores the social significance of this locale.77 And further up the Tamir Valley lie two dozen cemeteries, many of them large burial grounds, with two of them containing immensely wide circular graves (20–25 meters) that resemble the massive grave excavated at Chikhertiin Zoo—all suggesting that this valley was a major political center of the Xiongnu Empire.78 Adding to the picture of this overall area as the heartland of the empire are the remains of the largest known walled complex of the Xiongnu, located 30 kilometers north of the mouth of the Tamir Valley.79 There, in the open grasslands of the Orkhon Valley, lies a singular earthen enclosure more than 500 meters wide and beyond compare. Within the main walls was built a second enclosure with gate entries, two central buildings, and an additional set of earthen walls that divided the interior into distinct spaces, one of which was likely an artificial pond. In addition to remnants of floors, beams, heating systems, and rooftops of buildings, the most impressive features are the broad ceramic tiles that once lined the architectural eaves for all to see. Carved in stylized Chinese characters across each eave tile were the following phrases (Figure 4.7): The Son of Heaven, The Chanyu [One] with Heaven, Without Limits [May He live] Thousands upon Tens of Thousands of Years The Xiongnu appropriated phrases of praise reserved for the Han Emperor in order to decorate imperial complexes for their own ruler and claimed their “Magnificent” Chanyu to be the Son of Heaven. All this was flaunted, in Chinese, for any visiting emissaries to see.80 This walled enclosure and its buildings likely constituted a monumental residence for the rulers of the Xiongnu Empire, and, given the proximity to some of the largest burial grounds and tombs in the entire realm, quite possibly a complex associated with the famous Long-cheng for the court of the chanyu.81 But even if this complex and the nearby sites of three enclosures at Talyn Gurvan Kherem served as nexuses for the imperial court, the horde of the chanyu would not have been fixed to one locale throughout the year. These would have comprised one of a handful of permanent locales that formed a network of imperial nodes for the
Rule by the Horse 95
Figure 4.7 Ceramic eave tile with Chinese characters, Kharganyn Khönd complex, Mongolia. Drawing by Bruce Worden.
nomadic rulers.82 And even these were but one segment of the overall empire, its communities, and its people. Categorical distinctions with varied grades and forms of buildings, ritual structures, and burials across the steppe realms collectively contradict the persistent narrative of nomadic polities as made up of relatively egalitarian pastoral communities. Significant differences in the investments of wealth and labor for residences and accoutrements of the living, as well as for ritual centers and interments of the dead, demonstrate a compound social hierarchy. Inner Asia was not a smooth space, but one punctuated and structured by the ranks of nomadic elites and decimal-organized communities of the Xiongnu Empire.83 A comprehensive understanding of the empire requires a telescopic consideration not only of individuals but also of whole communities and entire regions. How did local communities relate to one another, and how did they vary in their degrees of participation in the larger imperial regime? If the hierarchy of materials and monuments is any indication of the complex social framework within which people of the steppe empire functioned, then we should examine
96 Xiongnu in a likewise structured fashion the orders of people within communities, of communities within regions, and of regions within the greater empire. Through a close examination of numerous archaeological sites and their respective remains, I aim here to unpack the empire and its components. Utilizing a nested approach that expands upward and outward, this analysis begins first with one community. Differences in the structures and contents of homes and burials allow us to discern social relations between a variety of individuals and households within a single community of the empire. I then compare this with one other community within a single region, considering the relations between them. Last, I examine the similarities and differences between this region and two others at different ends of the Xiongnu domain. This final examination demonstrates the cultural as well as social dynamics of the empire—the practices that linked disparate regions into a greater political community as well as the traditions that preserved distinct regional identities beneath the veneer of imperial cohesion. Through this multiscalar approach, we may begin to understand the roles of individual communities within the larger political community and the ways in which they engaged with the overarching political regime. Local Communities Mobile herder households constituted the majority of communities in the Xiongnu Empire. But amid this matrix of pastoralists were herders who did not engage in long-distance migrations and households that inhabited permanent villages.84 As the Xiongnu regime expanded its territory, it fostered alternative lifeways and specialized economies that supplemented the pastoral base. Riverside villages emerged as nodes in the steppe where households not only herded livestock but also forged metals and tilled fields. One such community was the well-documented settlement at Ivolga, where villagers erected a series of earthen ramparts and wooden palisades to surround their compact settlement of pit-houses.85 Although settled herders dwelling in pit-houses may seem at odds with a steppe society of those who “follow animals to pasture,” these villages stand as a reminder of the broad variety of habitations, subsistence strategies, and production endeavors that were essential components of building a diverse and stable empire (Figure 4.8).86 The residents of Ivolga were hunters and herders, but they were also fishers and farmers. Aside from cattle, sheep, and goats, they ate horse and pig and hunted deer, hares, foxes, and even bears.87 Although more than half of the animal remains within the walls of the pit-house village were from the usual livestock— sheep, goat, cattle, and horses—more than a fifth of them were also from hogs and wild animals. Such a mixture of animals occurred at other pit-house settlements as well, such as Mangirtui, where more than half the discarded bones were from horses and almost a tenth were from pigs.88
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Figure 4.8 Ivolga village. (1) Cemetery (dark gray: wood coffin burials), (2) walled settlement (dark gray: large surface house), (3) additional enclosure. After Davydova 1995, 1996; Kradin et al. 2016.
98 Xiongnu Along with bone and bronze arrows useful for hunting, tools in the village included bone and iron hooks as well as harpoons that could have been used to catch a variety of fish, including large pike and sturgeon. Scant remains of fish are also accompanied by findings of grains including millet, wheat, and barley. Crops would have been planted and then processed using the kind of flat iron plowshares and stone grinding plates found in the village.89 Ivolga residents were adept craft workers as well. Like most Xiongnu communities, they produced their own pottery.90 They also used spindle-whorls to spin wool from their livestock, bone scrapers (fashioned from sheep scapula) to process animal hides, and bone awls and iron needles to manufacture clothes and carpets. They forged iron implements at a furnace workshop in the center of the village and made bronze items within their homes, leaving bits of casting slag in the floors of their pit-houses.91 Large farming enclaves like Ivolga were thus essential to the burgeoning nomadic regime, not only for their contributions of grain to the political economy but also as centers of craftwork and fortified trade nexuses. Ivolga was a dense village with workshops surrounded by four earthen ramparts and a wood palisade wall spanning almost 350 meters wide.92 Within the walls lay dense arrays of trash and storage pits amid rows of semi-subterranean houses.93 It was a substantial center and stood at a critical point along the northern frontier with the vast taiga lands of Siberia. In the process of integrating communities into the empire, some people of Ivolga village served as arbitrators between inhabitants of the forest-steppe locale near Lake Baikal and chiefs who were members of the Xiongnu regime. There are some hints of socially elevated families residing in more conspicuous homes. Although pit-houses at Ivolga and elsewhere usually conformed to the same size and square structure of a single room with corner hearth, two residences at Ivolga were slightly larger and contained two square rooms.94 Debris in one of the houses included not only ceramic cook pots but also fragments of a large iron cauldron. Whereas remnant artifacts in other houses included pieces of stone and bone belt ornaments and of cowrie shell imitations or tiny bronze hangings, the residents of one double house had real cowrie shells and large openwork bronze plates for their belts. This would appear to be the dwelling of one of the more influential households at Ivolga. One house in the center of the village, however, was even greater. The structure had thick earthen walls, sat atop a raised earthen floor, and was twice as large as the surrounding pit-houses.95 Such substantial buildings, like the surface structure with multiple rooms at Zaan-khoshuu, could have been centers of social or ritual activity for their communities. Yet, given the form of this large house at Ivolga, replete with corner hearth and stone paved heating benches along the walls identical to smaller pit-houses, it was more likely a residence of local elites.
Rule by the Horse 99 A small pit-house was attached to its eastern side, and there was much open space around the large house. In the nearby burial ground, a range of furnishings and personal items also demonstrate pronounced social stratification among members of the Ivolga community. Elite people at Ivolga adorned their garments with carnelian, turquoise, or glass beads and small bone ornaments, though most cowrie shells were imitations fashioned from bone or river shell. Some people augmented their belts with small bronze buttons, hangings, or even bronze Han coins. The more decorative female belts at Ivolga also brandished broad disc rings, claw-shaped ornaments, and polished stone plates with incised line designs. Sets of incised stone plates and broad rings were of particular importance because they were characteristic of elite women in Xiongnu society. Among the elites of Ivolga village, however, only two were buried with belts bearing large openwork bronze pieces that associated them with regional nobles of the Xiongnu regime.96 One person had a belt with real cowrie shells and a flat bronze belt loop with raised decoration of two panthers. The other, a young woman in an unlooted grave, had a belt that resembled those of other elite Ivolga women—rows of imitation cowries around the length of the belt; two polished stone disc rings at either hip; an assortment of glass, carnelian, turquoise, and jasper beads hanging at either side; and even a couple of bronze buttons with animal faces. At the front of the belt in prominent position, however, was a pair of large openwork bronze plates each depicting two panthers wrestling a serpent monster.97 Her beastly badges were ostentatious declarations of association with the network of Xiongnu elites that spanned far beyond the village at Ivolga. She was also laid to rest in full accordance with Xiongnu funerary customs—lying straight in a wood plank coffin, the head of a sacrificed sheep beside the coffin, and offerings of two decorated storage jars and one wave-line decorated cook pot with the ribs and vertebrae of a sheep inside. The residents of Ivolga were active hunters and consumed wild animals, especially boar, yet most of their funerals emphasized ritual sacrifices of sheep, goats, cattle, and horses for the dead that adhered closely to livestock-oriented beliefs and expressions of wealth among chiefs of the steppe empire. Whereas communities in this region had for centuries laid the dead to rest in shallow pits of stone-outlined square graves, laying the bodies straight in wood plank coffins was a funerary practice more attuned with the culture of Xiongnu nobles. Those who buried their dead in such fashions demonstrated their elevated social status within the community as well as their inclusion in the network of imperial elites. Many people at Ivolga were born into their social roles and social ranks, as were most people in the greater Xiongnu society—a society in which particular family groups retained power in local communities and large lineage groups maintained authority across the empire. Wooden furnishings and bronze ornaments proclaimed elevated status for men and women in the community, but
100 Xiongnu these practices of social distinction appeared as well in graves of many children. Children were often accorded accoutrements that provided gender distinctions at an early age, such as belts with numerous beads and broad rings for girls as opposed to archery equipment for boys. And so were they also given prestigious items and well-furnished burials that pronounced their status as members of privileged families.98 Children interred in coffins and with ornamented belts had already been differentiated from those buried in simple earthen pits or, even more so, from those laid to rest simply within broken jars. This latter practice occurred as well among the village houses, demonstrating further social differentiation between those families whose children were laid to rest inside versus outside of the cemetery. As corollary interments of lower-ranking adults of the community were likely somewhere else, as-of-yet unknown, outside the cemetery, many of the non-elite constituents of Ivolga seem as much beyond our view in the archaeological record as Xiongnu commoners are in the written records. The habitations and burials of Ivolga equally demonstrate that a multilevel hierarchy of social gradations existed in the community, with some people maintaining a higher status through their pronounced affiliation with the Xiongnu imperial network. Only half of the people at Ivolga cemetery were buried in wood coffins, far fewer were venerated by livestock offerings, and an even small number of people wore belts of specifically Xiongnu prestige.99 Other communities within the upper reaches of the Selenge also participated in the imperial network, and some had even more elites with large bronze belts and well-furnished graves. Although Ivolga was certainly an important settlement, this village and its leaders were not among the highest ranking in this region. Regional Hierarchies The decimal organization of the Xiongnu Empire, with its telescopic structure of lesser building up to greater chiefs, implies a pervasive hierarchical framework that incorporated even petty local leaders who directed but a few dozen households. Documents recording lesser Xiongnu chiefs along the southern frontier with Han China infer the existence of structured lower levels, yet archaeological remains provide an even richer picture of local communities and their elite factions that participated in the Xiongnu regime.100 Discrepancies between houses, personal accoutrements, and funeral offerings evidence disparities not only between different persons in a community but also between different communities and their collective members. Like the chiefs of disproportionate rank in the decimal system, elite factions at various locales retained disproportionate amounts of power and status within a single region of the empire. Numerous pastoral enclaves existed within the Lower Selenge areas, but they were incorporated into the empire via a hierarchy of chiefs and lineages.101 This hierarchy of prominence occurred in many arenas, including the array
Rule by the Horse 101 of habitation sites in the region. The other pit-house settlements in the Lower Selenge were smaller and sparser than Ivolga village, with seemingly fewer houses and no apparent fortifications.102 Ivolga was clearly a more significant center, and its location at the northern edge of the region and along the northern frontier of the Xiongnu Empire may have necessitated its fortification.103 The forest- steppe of the northern Xiongnu realms where Ivolga stood was inhabited by households residing in both mobile camps and permanent villages.104 Although the remains of permanent pit-house sites are more apparent to archaeologists than the scant remains of ephemeral campsites, we should not assume that those in villages were necessarily more politically central or affluent than those in tent camps. Assemblies of tents may have been the homes of chiefs greater than the elites at pit-house villages. For this example region, I compare communities similar in nature, that is, those residing within permanent settlements and having large associated cemeteries—one at Ivolga and the other further up the Selenge River system at Bayan-Under walled site and Derestui cemetery (Figure 4.9). While many in the Ivolga community certainly participated in the Xiongnu political network, those interred at Derestui exhibit practices and paraphernalia indicative of a greater number of people connected to the imperial network and people with greater overall political status within this region of the empire. The walled settlement of Bayan-Under, albeit a smaller enclosure than Ivolga, contained only a handful of regular pit-houses but included residences of far greater investment than those of the packed pit-house village at Ivolga.105 The riverside settlement of Bayan-Under was far smaller yet more monumental than Ivolga, measuring only 125 meters across. But its earthen ramparts were further reinforced with stones, and it had a dual division of inner and outer enclosed spaces. The outer rectangular enclosure had an enclosing wooden palisade and contained remnants of a standard pit-house. The inner enclosure was half the size but contained a ground-level house structure twice as large as the pit-houses, erected with wooden columns and plastered walls. The outer enclosure pit-house and inner enclosure raised-house both had cook pots, storage jars, and remnants of livestock, but the latter also contained a Chinese bronze mirror broken into several pieces with an iron knife on top.106 The partitioned spaces, less dense interiors, and more prominent structures at Bayan-Under are indicative of a settlement of elites with greater social distinction. Disparities in the social standing of elites at these two separate locales are further demonstrated by the accoutrements of prestige and ritual investments at their respective burial grounds. The cemetery at Ivolga, like the village of mostly similar pit-houses, is a dense group of similar graves. Derestui cemetery near Bayan-Under, on the other hand, is partitioned into several constellations of graves, each of which has central graves with larger pits and furnishings and more conspicuous stone ring surface markings typical of Xiongnu elite burials
102 Xiongnu
Figure 4.9 Xiongnu sites of Lower Selenge region, Buryatia [circles, cemeteries; squares, settlements]. (1) Ivolga settlement and cemetery, (2) Derestui cemetery, (3) Bayan-Under settlement; (4) Tsagaan; (5) Belousov.
Rule by the Horse 103 elsewhere in the central Mongolian grasslands. While only half of those interred at Ivolga were buried in wood coffins, well over two-thirds of the Derestui elites were furnished with wood plank coffins fitted with mortise-tenon construction. Some of their coffins were also set within stone-lined chambers or nested within additional outer wood coffins. A greater proportion of people at Derestui than at Ivolga bestowed offerings of livestock for the dead, indicating they were more capable of, or at least more invested in, sacrificing wealth from their herds for members of their community.107 Differing degrees of investment in venerations for and by affluent persons of the two communities demonstrate the greater economic means of those at Derestui. Along with greater wealth, the people at Derestui demonstrated greater political influence indicative of those directly integrated into the political network of Xiongnu chiefs. Elites of Ivolga village donned ornaments of Xiongnu culture, yet more people at Derestui brandished the particular bronze accoutrements indicative of participants of the Xiongnu regime—beast-themed bronze clasps for men, and, for women, pairs of openwork disc rings and large rectangular plates decorated with falcons, panthers, serpents, and especially horses.108 Even though Ivolga had men armed with bows and arrows to defend the village or contribute to regional militia, men at Derestui more actively took on the persona of mounted archer warrior that was central to the identity of chiefs of the steppe empire. Most arrows at Ivolga cemetery had small bone tips appropriate for hunting, while people at Derestui tended to be buried with large metal arrowheads better suited for combat. A number of their burials also contained the heads of horses or bridle pieces for riding horses.109 Both Ivolga and Derestui were communities of the empire, but they held different ranks within the distinct region of the Lower Selenge. They represent the spectrum of communities and elite factions that formed regional matrices of locales, and these regions in turn were integrated into the larger political system. The imperial steppe regime encompassed a wide array of geographies, cultures, and communities. As the Xiongnu network grew, it expanded far beyond its base of Mongolian grassland locales and areas already interlinked by social webs that had taken shape under elites of Square Grave lineage groups. Local elites adhering to Xiongnu political culture appeared not only in the frontiers abutting the Han Empire, but also west beyond the Khangai Mountains—across to the Great Lakes Basin,110 northward into the Sayan-Altai regions, and even far to the south into transcontinental routes at the eastern fringes of the Tian Shan. Supraregional Polity Ornate belt plates with beastly imagery served as emblems of Xiongnu prestige as far south as the Yellow River and as far west as the Yenesei River. Those who donned complete belt sets of the steppe empire visually demonstrated their
104 Xiongnu participation in the larger regime, one which gave them greater access to exterior resources and greater influence within their own locales. Elites of the Lower Selenge area heavily identified with the Xiongnu regime, embracing all its customs and trappings. Yet elites in other areas enveloped by the empire, while adopting many of the material accoutrements of Xiongnu political culture, also retained many customs of the local societies that preceded the Xiongnu conquests. Differences in grave pits and furnishings, placements of animal offerings and food vessels, and positioning of bodies within the burials all demonstrated divergent ritual traditions that accentuated regional identities (Figure 4.10). By comparing the Lower Selenge elites in the northern forest-steppe with those in the Upper Selenge, Upper Yenesei, and Upper Yellow River regions, we may further elucidate the cultural diversity within the integrated polity of the Xiongnu Empire.111 If we are to focus on the grandest belts and personal accoutrements of Xiongnu elites for a discussion of political culture across the empire, then we must turn our attention to women in Xiongnu society. They not only donned the most elaborate articles of prestige, but they also played central social roles in their respective locales and important political roles in the expansion of Xiongnu constituencies into frontier realms like Lake Baikal and the Yellow River.112 Elite Xiongnu women in the four disparate areas discussed here all donned belts decorated with small shell, bronze, or bead ornaments and often fastened with disc rings or rectangular plates. The overall sets typify belts worn by elite women throughout the realms, and the forms and scenes of individual rings and plates were virtually identical to those worn by elites across the empire. But the makeup and treatment of their belt sets reveal slight differences among these parts of the empire. When placed in burials, ornamented belts were usually worn by the deceased or set over their bodies (Figure 4.10[1,4]). Elites in the far south frontier near Han and Hexi, in addition to placing belts on the bodies of the deceased women, would often set belts at their feet—as an additional belt, perhaps possessed or worn by another elite who offered it to the esteemed deceased person (Figure 4.10[2]). Female belts far in the northwest were always worn by the deceased, but the belt sets were most often fastened with a singular rectangular plate rather than a pair of plates (Figure 4.10[3]). These slight differences in the implementation of badges and treatment of status belts reflect adaptations of Xiongnu emblems of power for cultural politics attune to varied local manners. As elite clans in the southern frontier region of the Yellow River were integrated into the expanding Xiongnu Empire, belts fastened with pairs of beastly badges replaced the previous assortment of animal-themed belt clasps. Many of those interred at Daodunzi cemetery wore standard Xiongnu accoutrements— cowrie shell belts fastened with disc rings and pairs of rectangular openwork plates for women (Figure 4.10[2]) and belts with cowrie shells and Han coins
Rule by the Horse 105
Figure 4.10 Graves of women buried with bronze belt plates: (1) Derestui grave 107 (after Minyaev 1998); (2) Daodunzi grave 6 (after Ningxia et al. 1988); (3) Ala- Tei grave 19 (after Kilonovskaya and Leus 2018); (4) Salkhityn-Am grave 7 (after Ölzibayar et al. 2019). Drawings by Mara Nakama.
106 Xiongnu fastened by single openwork round-ended clasps for men.113 But elite men were not interred with bows, arrows, or riding equipment that projected the persona of mounted warrior.114 In addition to tendencies in the south to don belts with nomadic scenes emphasizing steppe cultural affinity, a number of the burials included belt plates manufactured by Han artisans—filled-in forms with radically different stylistic renditions of horses and horned beasts. The practice of Han workshops creating steppe-style belt pieces for consumption by neighboring nomadic elites continued even as the Xiongnu took control of those frontier power bases. However, such Chinese-manufactured belt plates were not found in Xiongnu realms further north.115 Local elites of Daodunzi engaged in frontier exchanges with the Han that were independent of other steppe factions, sustaining interactions that preceded their participation in the Xiongnu Empire. Daodunzi was also a cemetery of mixed funerary traditions. Some graves were shaft pits with wood coffins emulating burials of the Xiongnu, while others were side-niche graves that conserved burial customs particular to Ordos and eastern Hexi groups. Storage vessels consisted of typical Xiongnu style broad-shouldered storage jars as well as Han and local style jars. But, unlike Xiongnu graves further north, these offering vessels were set into niches in the pit walls rather than placed next to the deceased.116 Heads and hooves of livestock were also set in different offering places (not just graves) in core Xiongnu communities. Since bodies were placed within side-niches, the bottom of grave pits became large offering spots for the heads and hooves of one or two dozen livestock, including sheep, goats, cattle, and horses. This mixture of traditions may relate to the integration of existing local elite families with members of intruding elite lineages, mostly women, coming from the northern steppe.117 In this vein, large wave-line decorated storage jars and beastly bronze ornaments of Xiongnu culture served as assertions that the leaders of this region were members of the steppe empire. As pastures and peoples of the Ordos Plateau were rapidly reclaimed from previous Qin and Zhao invaders, this area became an important power base for Xiongnu Kings of the Right. Nearby pasture lands between the Yin and Xing’an Mountains provided similar power bases for the Xiongnu Empire, in this case for Kings of the Left. Numerous findings of standard bronze belt plates in those areas underscored a strong presence of those loyal to the steppe regime, especially in the grasslands and hills flanking the upper bend of the Yellow River where the first chanyus established a royal encampment to manage their network of regional kings.118 This area had been a center for nomadic elites before the rise of empires around them and quickly remerged as a seat of power with the ousting of remnant Qin forces by the Xiongnu and the subjugations of surrounding Hu kings. In the heart of northern Ordos pastures where the chanyu would often camp with his royal court, elites of Xigoupan cemetery were buried with gold and silver
Rule by the Horse 107 ornaments, many of which had been manufactured in Chinese workshops for exchanges with the nomads.119 While the Xiongnu expanded their regime across these southern steppe lands and propagated emblems proclaiming their new authority, these borderland prefectures still relied on previous pastoral strongholds and preexisting diplomatic relations. The Xiongnu similarly imposed control by usurping local rulers and appropriating entrenched power bases in the far northwestern frontier. The upper reaches of the Yenesei River, for example, had been the nucleus of nomadic polities for centuries before the Xiongnu regime overran them. By the second century bce, burials of previous elite factions—tumuli with large well-furnished log chambers containing numerous crouched individuals belonging to family groups—had drastically diminished in this area.120 The previous ruling elites, it seems, had been ousted or subdued, and their traditions quelled by the Xiongnu regime. Only stone cist graves with single crouched persons, burials analogous to the lesser-ranking peoples of the Sayan-Altai areas, continued to be used by local groups.121 The cemeteries of Terezin and Ala-Tei demonstrate how elites in the Upper Yenesei buried in small stone cists embraced prestige assemblages of the new regime while preserving many of the traditions that had long characterized communities of the Sayan-Altai (Figure 4.10[3]).122 People interred at both of these burial grounds were dressed in ornate Xiongnu style belts with bronze openwork clasps or large inlaid stone plates. Imitation cowrie shells, Han coins, and even Chinese mirror fragments accompanied them. Storage vessels, possibly for goods traded long-distance, were mostly fine wheel-made jars produced in Xiongnu styles. And some vessels, as well as stone belts, were etched with an H- shaped tamga mark that seems particular to this peripheral region of the Xiongnu Empire.123 Yet cooking pots continued to be rough hand-made vessels with side knob-handles customary in the Sayan-Altai. Small double-bowl burners placed above the stone cists further intimate ritual customs particular to this frontier region of the empire. While many were interred in crouched fashion within simple stone cists rather than lain stretched in wooden coffins, a number of stone cist interments appear to have made gestures toward Xiongnu funeral practices. Bodies laid mostly straight often still had their arms folded over the torso in a semi-flexed treatment resonant of the traditional crouched positions. Some of the stone cist graves with stretched out bodies contained offerings of heads and hooves of livestock. This was a stark contrast to platters of animal vertebrae and rears or sacrifices of whole animals offered to elites who had previously ruled the region. However, unlike Xiongnu graves elsewhere, livestock heads were set within the stone coffins at the feet of the deceased. Such seemingly subtle differences in the archaeological record nevertheless reflect significant differences in the belief systems and traditions of elites in separate parts of the empire, differences that demonstrate
108 Xiongnu discrete cultural identities that persevered beneath the veneer of imperial political culture. Powerful regional elites of prior polities may have been expelled or annihilated during Xiongnu conquests, but the subsequent processes of imperial integration included more than a total replacement by members of Xiongnu noble lineages. The persistence of local traditions demonstrates that preexisting peoples comprised a significant portion of the political players in provinces of the empire. Status at the lower provincial levels was certainly open to lineages and leaders outside the handful of royal clans. Hence, local elites in many parts of Inner Asia adopted the material vocabulary of Xiongnu-derived political culture, though not always at the expense of customs that asserted regional allegiances. For many of the lesser chiefs of the empire, Xiongnu affiliation was ancillary to maintaining power within their own locales, where many people may not have adopted Xiongnu customs or been participants of the political network of the empire. The collective body of the empire comprised a tight network of herder households and local leaders within the core Mongolian grasslands as well as peripheral groups that were enveloped through the course of conquests. This broad expanse of Inner Asian communities and elites had formally submitted to the Xiongnu and henceforth contributed to its political economy and adopted much of the political culture of the regime. But beneath the veneer of Xiongnu accoutrements and allegiances, many regions also maintained fully independent societies and cultures. Just as Xiongnu-derived accoutrements of power were adopted by elites within the sovereign domains of the steppe empire, so were they open to appropriation by groups outside the Xiongnu political community. The spread of Xiongnu status emblems into neighboring areas makes it problematic to draw exact boundaries of the empire. As with many empires, regions not integrated into the ranks of the Xiongnu were frequently still under its hegemonic purview. In order to maintain greater sway over such exterior entities, the imperial body of chiefs and herder households extended imposing arms of coercive agents and armies. Arms of the Empire The early conquests of Modun had thrust Xiongnu supremacy into distant territories. Yet these initial forays required successive deployments of forces to solidify control over far-flung resources. Once they had vanquished most of Inner Asia, the Great Chiefs were then able to apply crippling pressure on neighboring adversaries. The Xiongnu repeatedly drove armies against disruptive peripheral groups, at times ousting them to make room for Xiongnu hordes. The goal, however, was not so much to garner more lands but to secure accords that ensured a steady flow of wealth to the households of Xiongnu chiefs.124
Rule by the Horse 109 Xiongnu communities continually sought to augment their reserves of livestock and labor, whether through trading or raiding. Although petty chiefs frequently instigated small plundering missions of their own, the greatest reserves of food and labor came from the Chanyu and his Great Chiefs. It was to these royal kings and regional chiefs that the lower “lords and chiefs of felt and fur” would turn in order to buffer against economic disasters, be they ecologically, militarily or politically induced.125 The Great Chiefs and their agents were capable of forcing open borderland markets and reaching beyond the frontiers to extract goods from distance places. They were the arms of the empire that garnered ever greater wealth to distribute among loyal constituents. Many peripheral entities, while not direct subjects of the Xiongnu regime, were nonetheless subject to its demands. Rather than inundating nearby kingdoms with occupying populations, or necessarily ousting the local rulers, the Xiongnu chose to transform most of them into tributary vassals. Larger regimes like the Han may not have identified as vassals of the Xiongnu, but the steppe regime played significant roles in their interior politics as well. None dared defy the Chanyu. It was under such a hegemonic shadow cast by the steppe empire that emblems of Xiongnu prestige became potent symbols within the cultures of surrounding societies, even the Han. In most cases, the threat of large armies or the presence of small armed enclaves maintained subservient statuses and regular payments of goods. Through such detached strategies of coercion, the Xiongnu were able to extort resources on a vast scale without costly colonial infrastructure or occupation. Surrounding realms became feedings grounds of the empire, exploited by traders and raiders and preyed upon by the forceful arms of the Great Chiefs. Ventures Left and Right After Modun Chanyu vanquished kings and hordes of the Eastern Hu, pastures spanning the Xing’an ranges were open to the Xiongnu. Some lands were taken for domains of the Kings of the Left, while other were left to local tribes that were forced to pay tribute. They were not formally incorporated into Xiongnu society but were still drawn into the Xiongnu sphere of influence and subjected to demands of the new regime. The Songnen Plains beyond the Xing’an Mountains presented an abundant supply of livestock and other resources for the burgeoning steppe regime, and the Xiongnu logically sought to assert their influence among leaders there. This eastern frontier was consequently transformed into a motley mixture of noble appanages and autonomous enclaves, all under the reins of the Xiongnu. Elites at Zhalainuo’er were among those incorporated in the Xiongnu ranks. They donned bronze ornamented belts of the same form as local chiefs of the Xiongnu Empire.126 They used Xiongnu style pots and jars, were interred in ring graves with wood coffins, and embraced the persona of mounted archer warriors.
110 Xiongnu Leaders at nearby Wangong were dressed in a combination of cowrie shells, turquoise and shell beads, and bronze-or stone-decorated belts that also invoked Xiongnu culture, though these were akin to the lowest-ranking members of Xiongnu society.127 However, their large wood chamber burials with numerous men, women, and children demonstrate ritual traditions of a persistently independent society.128 Aside from occasional Xiongnu storage jars, the majority of their food vessels were similar to ceramics of herders on the other side of the Xing’an Mountains, in the Songnen Plains. Elites in the southern Xing’an ranges donned abundant accoutrements of the Xiongnu Empire, but they also brandished lengthy curve-pommeled swords indicative of intense interactions with groups in the Korean peninsula. Numerous Chinese coins and mirrors, either traded or gifted upward from the Han Empire, were also utilized by elite factions in this area, and communities even further north into the Songnen Plains bore evidence as well of engaging in exchanges with Han domains.129 Amid independent herder groups and remnant tribes of the Eastern Hu kings, large enclaves expressing full affiliation with the Xiongnu regime also existed far to the east. Elites at Xichagou dressed in cowrie shell belts and a broad array of bronze belt plates bearing the same scenes as those worn by elites in other realms of the steppe empire.130 They wielded bone-reinforced composite bows and bronze-tipped arrows and rode horses with iron-fitted bridles. They were even buried in shaft pits with wood coffins and horse head offerings. However, their equipment also included elongated stone arrowheads and long bronze spearheads unlike any used by hordes of the Mongolian steppe. Their range of ring-handled jars, pots, and cups were more similar to wares used by people in the Songnen Plains, and their burials contained no Xiongnu style vessels of any kind. Xichagou thus highlights the existence of significant independent entities like the historically attested Wuhuan whose leaders were close affiliates of the Xiongnu regime and dressed in full Xiongnu attire. But even these powerful tribes were subjected to the economic demands of the Xiongnu regime, forced to pay tribute in the form of livestock and pelts.131 While Kings of the Left advanced Xiongnu influence eastward across the Xing’an Mountains, Kings of the Right expanded Xiongnu hegemony westward. Near the end of Modun’s reign, his son Jiyu, the Right Tuqi King, mobilized tens of thousands of mounted warriors to assail and occupy lands to the south and west. He first overran Han soldiers and officials in the Ordos plateau, drove out local nomadic groups who had fought on the side of Han establishments, and settled multitudes of his own people therein.132 But whereas regions like Ordos were incorporated into the growing appanages of the Kings of the Right, other borderlands were left as territories for intermittent grazing and, more regularly, for combined ventures of trading and raiding by local hordes.133
Rule by the Horse 111 These collective endeavors were in many ways contingent upon one another, constituting symbiotic components of economic growth for the nomadic empire.134 Plundering frontier communities procured resources that directly bolstered the surpluses of local hordes, but lucrative spoils from raiding may also have been recycled as goods for trade, whether at frontier markets or in more illicit manners. Steppe agents often engaged in exchanges that subverted Han attempts to control borderland commerce.135 Repeated campaigns by Kings of the Right and their armies ranking Tens of Thousands opened up peripheral auxiliary pastures for provisional exploitation, but they also forced open distant ventures of trade and tribute that reached far beyond borderland markets.136 It was these schemes for protracted resource extraction that drove the Xiongnu campaigns of 176 bce to fully oust the Yuezhi overlords of the Hexi Corridor. Modun had managed to drive back the Yuezhi with brutal assaults, yet they still held a firm grasp on much of the Hexi lands. When Jiyu arrived three decades after Modun, he finally captured and killed the Yuezhi King, taking his skull for a drinking cup, and butchered most of the king’s forces.137 The Yuezhi nomads then splintered into factions as the Eastern Hu had done, with a large group taking refuge south of Dunhuang, past the Qilian Mountains and toward the realms of the Qiang. Over subsequent years, the remaining Yuezhi continued to disintegrate under pressure from Xiongnu invasions. Then, in 162 bce, the Xiongnu dealt the final blow that ousted the greater portion of the Yuezhi. They fled further westward along the Tian Shan ranges, forcing their way into the Ili Valley and expelling the Saka kings there. Numerous tribes like the Wusun, who had once been harassed by the domineering Yuezhi, took control of Hexi lands under the auspices of Xiongnu authority. Hordes and lords of the Xiongnu could then operate freely in Hexi, with local tribes presiding as autonomous subsidiaries of the empire. And as the majority of Yeuzhi hordes fled beyond the Tian Shan, the Xiongnu were able to expand their hegemony over trade routes into the vast Western Regions. Subsequent Xiongnu forays beyond Hexi extended across realms of tribute- paying states. Landscapes of the Western Regions, though seemingly devoid of Xiongnu hordes, were nonetheless continually pervaded by forces of the empire. Scattered findings of Xiongnu belt clasps, both standard and imitation plates, demonstrated a great degree of interaction between local elites and Xiongnu agents.138 However, almost no cemeteries bear evidence of entire Xiongnu communities residing in the area. The threat of punitive armies rapidly arriving from the steppe, however rare, was a powerful incentive for allegiance. But so were the potential profits from contributing to a burgeoning and ever-broader eastern Eurasian trade network equally powerful incentives. Gainful ventures were under the control of the Xiongnu, and all those who engaged in trade networks in the Western Regions knew that the nomadic regime had become the primary facilitators.139
112 Xiongnu Chiefs of the mountain herders around Lake Barköl, who had long emulated elites of the Altai kingdom, became affiliate “kings” of the Xiongnu.140 They were counted as associates of the steppe empire yet remained socially independent. They produced their own forms of beastly themed bronze and gold ornaments and retained traditions of red-ware pottery and stone foundation houses equivalent to pastoral communities elsewhere in the Western Regions.141 Larger oasis city-states retained similar autonomy but nevertheless served as agents of the empire, “acting as the ears and eyes of the Xiongnu” and at times even conducting reconnaissance missions on their behalf.142 Kingdoms like Loulan were transformed into peripheral nodes through which the Xiongnu exacted tribute and through which Xiongnu forces moved without needing to garrison colonies.143 The Turpan kingdom of Gushi also continued to thrive as an independent regional affiliate of the steppe regime.144 Even when armed conflicts between the Han and Xiongnu escalated and eventually spilled over into the Western Regions—and Gushi split into two polities north and south of the Tian Shan peaks—Gushi elites continued to dominate the area with the support of the Xiongnu, fending off Han advances and subduing smaller nomadic groups like the so-called Fox Hu.145 Burial grounds at the capital city of Jiaohe demonstrate the flourishing of the Gushi kingdom despite its emulation of the domineering Xiongnu Empire. Local lords were interred in massive stone-ring tombs, on par with the largest of the Xiongnu ring graves though using different construction techniques, and were accompanied by smaller flanking burial pits of men, horses, and camels. Although heavily looted, these assorted side-niche and shaft pit graves yielded cowrie shells and gold foil pieces for ornaments bearing motifs of oxen, camels, panthers, ibexes, and falcons—accoutrements that clearly imitated the forms and styles of Xiongnu elite belt clasps (Figure 4.11).146 The everyday trappings, wares, and houses of Jiaohe and its surrounding communities indicate no adoption of Xiongnu culture, yet Gushi elites pronounced their authority through Xiongnu- derived prestige attire coupled with their local traditions of catacomb tombs and flanking sacrificial pits with whole horses or camels. Some small communities in the Turpan Basin demonstrate complete continuity with Western Regions traditions common before the rise of the Xiongnu.147 Other groups may have preserved local traditions of food vessels and funerary rites but still adopted stone or bone belt clasps equivalent to lower-level constituents of the Xiongnu.148 Only a few rare sites along the edges of the oasis basin had gray-ware pottery and iron arrowheads indicative of Xiongnu hordes.149 These may reflect small enclaves of emigrating Xiongnu forces within the Western Regions, but again there are almost no indications of substantial Xiongnu communities taking root beyond the Hexi western frontier. Chiefs of the Xiongnu political network may not have established domains in the Western Regions, but polities in the area shouldered their armies and envoys.
Rule by the Horse 113
Figure 4.11 Gold foil decoration of raptor and panther grappling, Jiaohe. Drawing by Mara Nakama, object in Xinjiang Museum of Archaeology.
Powerful states like Gushi were autonomous agents of the Xiongnu regime yet still under the purview of the Right Tuqi King and his subordinate forces.150 To ensure control over the distant west without expending resources to occupy large territorial expanses, the Western Periphery Rizhu King was charged with establishing a Servant Commandant with a military entourage to reside in the pastures around Lake Bosten.151 From this base at Bosten, the Commandant’s enclave provided further assurance for the allegiance of affiliate states. It also served as a direct agent of racketeering for the empire, both protecting and plaguing the assorted mountain, desert, and oasis communities. One burial ground in the hills of Chawuhu near the lake illustrates the presence of non-local nomadic elites at that time.152 The side-niche burial pits, wooden burial furnishings, and offerings of sheep and horse heads at their feet were similar to mortuary customs of communities in other steppe frontiers of the Xiongnu Empire. Some graves contained bone clasps, bronze buckles, and animal-themed buttons equivalent to pieces on standard Xiongnu belts. And while much of the squat gray pottery was unlike vessels in Mongolia, these wares contrasted more starkly with the red pottery more typical in the Western Regions. Yet those residing around Bosten, under purview of the Xiongnu Commandant, appear to have been neither local constituents nor people exactly like those in the Xiongnu heartlands.
114 Xiongnu Brief accounts of Xiongnu operations in the Western Regions divulge that the Commandant Chief extracted enough taxes to support a detached imperial agency as well as transfer a great amount back to the core steppe realms.153 Once commanders and itinerant forces of the Xiongnu had infiltrated the Western Regions and enforced their authority, “no towns dared detain or harm agents of the chanyu.”154 Hence, with a single central enclave and a handful of affiliate states, the Xiongnu were able to rein in resources from the entire Western Regions with practically no infrastructure. The resulting expansion of the empire into these far western reaches was one in which local communities and their leaders were not folded formally into the Xiongnu political system. Most elite factions in the Western Regions did not adopt the codified assemblage of paraphernalia associated with the Xiongnu, even if they at times imitated elements of Xiongnu garb. Regardless of the detached strategies of control, the presence of Xiongnu enclaves and itinerant administrative dignitaries over time imbued local political institutions with Xiongnu conventions. By the end of the first century bce, even Western Regions states that were ostensibly allied with the Han court had ranks of duwei, juqu, and danghu—traditional titles of the Xiongnu imperial hierarchy.155 This deep influence in far-distant lands, and the resulting interweaving of local political systems with imperial ones, was just as important as military enclaves for facilitating efficient exploitation of outlying regions. As the affiliated “ears and eyes” of the empire bolstered Xiongnu authority in the Western Regions, so did imperial agents—like protracted arms of the Xiongnu political body—launch diplomatic, military, and commercial ventures into the central-most realms of Eurasia. Reaching past the Yuezhi and Wusun hordes that dwelled along the Tian Shan, Xiongnu hordes reined in portions of a conglomerate of “mobile states” that dominated Central Asia. The confederacy of independent nomadic “kings”—known as the Kangju in Han accounts and as Asiana Sakas in Roman records—spanned the grasslands and river valleys of Syr Darya and Amu Darya.156 They commanded large armies of “those who draw the bow,” and their most prominent leaders migrated between a northern steppe residence in the summer and a southern Sogdian oasis city in the winter. It was these eastern areas, and the Kangju kings of Yujian and Suxie, that fell under the yoke of Xiongnu hegemony.157 To what degree the Xiongnu were present in lands of the Kangju is difficult to ascertain, but hints of agents from the empire occur at cemeteries in Uzbekistan and southern Kazakhstan. Several individuals interred beneath earthen mounds, inside niched pits, and with pottery jugs and long swords—all typical of Kangju culture—also brandished iron arrowheads of the forms used by archers in the Mongolian steppe.158 More importantly, they were dressed in Xiongnu style belts adorned with cowry shells and fastened with bronze openwork disc rings or inlaid stone belt plates.159
Rule by the Horse 115 These burials of single individuals were abnormal interments for a region in which elites were laid to rest as multiple individuals, either together inside a niched-pit or in a collection of adjacent shaft pits, under a single earthen mound.160 Whether these were persons of the Xiongnu Empire buried by local groups or local elites bearing gifts from Xiongnu emissaries, the Xiongnu regime and its political culture exerted significant influence well beyond the core Inner Asian domains of its Great Chiefs. The Kangju kings of Yujian appear to have been particularly intertwined with Xiongnu politics. They ruled over the Bukharan area of Sogdiana—an oasis and grasslands expanse with several fortified yet small settlements, rather than large cities like in the Turpan oasis. But they thrived from a diverse herding and farming economy and the trade the flowed along the crossroads toward the Fergana, Bactria, and Khorezm power bases of Central Asia.161 The eastern Kangju hordes appear to have retained independence, but, in some ways, many were also entangled with the Xiongnu political system. The Yujian kings were divided into Left and Right designations in the same fashion as Xiongnu chiefs, and the Xiongnu created their own kingly titles bearing the name of Yujian.162 Central Asian realms, despite being far removed from the domains of the Great Chiefs, were still under the political gaze of the Xiongnu. But this political gaze and its ensuing entanglements were most prominent in relation to more immediate neighbors, namely the Han. Enterprises of Interregional Exploitation Xiongnu strategies of expansion transformed numerous neighboring areas into feeding grounds for hordes of the empire. Frontier territories of the Han were no exception. The chanyus, though repeatedly censured by Han emissaries for an apparent inability to control their assaulting constituents, tolerated and most likely encouraged raiding brigades. Han frontier establishments registered numerous parties of “those who migrate great distances and come and go down past the fortifications,” and Han officials certified and examined all the accompanying livestock and goods of these trading parties.163 Although they opened their gates, the Han garrisons were duly warned to keep men and livestock securely locked up whenever foreign parties approached. Such stipulations reveal the dual nature of steppe groups that came to the frontier—to trade, raid, or engage in both. Even when Great Chiefs halted their massive campaigns in times of ostensible armistice with the Han court, small raids persisted. Often numbering fewer than a hundred horsemen, these petty chiefs captured both people and livestock, sometimes even pilfering stores of bronze crossbow pieces and arrowheads from Han armories.164 While the Han considered marauding of any sort to be detrimental to frontier commerce, raiding was an integral part of steppe economics and contributed, just as open trade did, to the flow of capital and the accumulation of surplus.
116 Xiongnu The greater Xiongnu kings and generals also directed masses of people deep into the southern frontier for relief during ecological crises. In the winter of 158 bce, only two years after an official Familial Alliance between the Xiongnu and Han had been concluded, hordes of up to thirty thousand “Hu” people overran lands of Han colonies in Ordos. Han generals at the time considered it yet another invasion, but the lack of skirmishes suggests a different objective. After several months, and without any armed conflict with the amassing Han armies, the Hu hordes departed.165 Forays into the frontier were usually ventures not just of cavalry but of communities. These ranged from small collections of households come to trade at the garrison markets to large-scale migrations of hordes that came to pasture their herds.166 Nomadic households moved mostly through regularized circuits of grasslands. But in bad winters, especially in areas of drier pastures like the Gobi, whole populations may have been mobilized for long-distance migrations in search of additional pastures.167 The hordes of Hu people that intruded upon Han borderlands in 158 bce came in winter and were gone by summer. To them, the southern frontier lands were winter reserve pastures, regardless of the presence of Han garrisons. This instance also calls into question other recorded occurrences, deemed invasions, of throngs of people that came to the frontier and then left without significant military engagements. The mobilization of large populations was certainly a costly undertaking. But extenuating circumstances that called for additional grazing grounds would have made such movements necessary. When combined with trading and raiding by the migrating households, these grazing movements became even more profitable. The Xiongnu utilized a collection of power bases in their periphery to exploit entire swathes of outlying frontier lands without occupying them. Repeated shock campaign and diplomatic missions allowed them to exert influence across their Hexi frontier into the Western Regions, and through the Ordos frontier into core realms of the Han. The chanyu and his Great Chiefs mobilized massive armies for raids that could yield tens of thousands of captives. Large-scale invasions garnered great numbers of livestock and slaves for the subordinates of these powerful nobles, bolstering loyalty among the lesser Xiongnu chiefs to whom the spoils were distributed. During the reign of Jiyu Chanyu, the Xiongnu launched raids with well over a hundred thousand mounted warriors into provinces near the Han capital, burning a royal palace and almost storming the city of Chang’an.168 The terror inflicted by these penetrating bursts of violence secured the continuation of tribute-bearing treaties for the royal court of the Xiongnu. As each new ruler demanded a new pact, Familial Alliances were often renewed for the ascension of a new chanyu as well as for a new Han emperor. In 160 bce, when Junchen was established as chanyu, invasions ensued and a Familial Alliance treaty with the
Rule by the Horse 117 Han followed immediately after. In 156 bce, when Jingdi became emperor, the threat of invasions prompted yet another treaty with copious tribute from the Han Empire accompanied by guarantees of open markets.169 The repeated renewals of treaties in the wake of invasions were but one strategy the Xiongnu employed to keep tight reins on their more powerful neighbors. Whenever opportunities for large gains arose, they would ignore treaties and launch more assaults. Yet the Xiongnu were not a threat to all parties. They could also be allies. When seven of the largest kingdoms of the nascent Han Empire launched a rebellion against the central court, the Chinese kings of Zhao and Yan made overtures to the Xiongnu rulers.170 The plan was for Xiongnu armies to amass in the Ordos with forces from Zhao and Yan and eventually storm the emperor’s capital at Chang’an. The proposed route of attack through Xiao Pass would have utilized a river valley that served as a Xiongnu power base, with communities like Daodunzi. It was the same launching ground that Xiongnu kings had previously used to raid lands at the fringes of the Han capital district. When the planned Seven Kingdoms Rebellion erupted in 154 bce, the chanyu broke the Familial Alliance with the Han emperor, even though the pivotal Yan kingdom failed to join the uprising. Even as it seemed that the rebellious plans would fail, several of the Xiongnu chiefs, each with forces of thirty thousand cavalry, capitalized on the opportunity of uprisings to plunder Ordos colonies.171 While the Xiongnu did not formally occupy the Han territories south of the Long Walls, a move in violation of the Familial Alliance, they clearly exploited these lands as a political stage to assert hegemony in the face of their southern adversary. Military campaigns across the borderlands placed extreme pressure on the early Han rulers, and the might of the Xiongnu was felt throughout the Chinese realms. During the first hundred years or more of Han rule, as tales of the powerful steppe lords spread, so did whole belts of Xiongnu elites become pieces of prestige among Chinese aristocracy.172 Many openwork belt clasps, including ones bearing camels, horses, and nomadic scenes, were found within the capital district of Chang’an where Xiongnu emissaries, generals, and even defectors sojourned.173 Xiongnu emblems became tools of cultural politics within the Han Empire, prized not merely because of their exotic origin, but more so because of the potency of connections to the steppe empire they embodied.174 Many large kingdoms in the Han realms, which remained staunchly defiant during the early decades of the Han dynasty, retained emblems of the Xiongnu. Only royal nobles directly associated with the Han court were supposed to have access to foreign tribute, but these provincial Chinese kings flaunted Xiongnu badges. Rulers of the Chu, Yan, and Nanyue kingdoms repeatedly asserted equal ranking with the Han court, burying themselves in jade suits usually reserved for the royal family and proclaiming independent connections to the powerful steppe empire via Chinese-steppe hybrid decorations and Xiongnu style belts.175 The Xiongnu had coerced heavy tribute payments from the Han court, and, as
118 Xiongnu the attempted rebellion showed, they could possibly be called upon for assistance in power struggles against the Han court. When the Han court took over the mutinous seven kingdoms immediately after their revolt in 154 bce, the newly appointed nobles proclaimed their grandeur and affiliation with the Han dynasty. They donned a host of Chinese royal accoutrements alongside exotic items that echoed the power of the Xiongnu regime.176 Even the brother of the Han emperor, who was established as King of Zhongshan in northern China, was interred with a jade suit and Xiongnu- style belt plates.177 The broad distribution of Xiongnu imperial emblems among aristocrats of the Han Empire was not indicative of the submission of any of those lords to the chanyu. Yet these accoutrements demonstrate the significant influence that the steppe empire had on the interior politics of its neighboring entities, even ones as powerful as Han China. Xiongnu sway extended as well into Siberia. Herders and hunters of the taiga wielded composite bows and mounted horses similar to Hu hordes of the Xiongnu. Some of them also incorporated bronze belt hangings, buttons, and openwork clasps of the Xiongnu elite into their attire.178 But, like the peripheral groups westward along the Tian Shan and eastward into the Songnen Plains, these northern entities maintained independent societies. Their simple crouched burials in shallow pits with no coffins and their rough styles of cook pots reflect a profoundly different culture from nearby Xiongnu communities residing at settlements like Ivolga.179 The far north Dingling, like the far south Han, incorporated prestige ornaments of the steppe empire but remained markedly outside the scope of Xiongnu rule. Even though Modun’s conquests had forced northern groups such as the Dingling to submit to Xiongnu hegemony, they persisted in forest-steppe areas between Lake Baikal and the Sayan Mountains, at times trading with northern communities of the Xiongnu and at times absconding livestock from Xiongnu herders living along the frontier.180 Many large frontier communities of the Xiongnu, like Ivolga and Katylyg, were enclosed with earthen ramparts.181 But so were small settlements outside of Xiongnu domains, further along the shores of Lake Baikal, fortified with stone walls.182 These protected towns, like the Han garrisons of the Long Walls frontier, were both inhibitors of raids and facilitators of exchange in a highly productive zone of interaction. Iron workshops with furnaces dotted the lands surrounding Baikal.183 Through this web of northern frontier communities, the Xiongnu could obtain supplies of iron ingots and fur pelts as well as sturgeon fish and seal products.184 Towns like Ivolga were centers of trade networks that moved raw materials, products, and even people south through the steppe lands of the Xiongnu Empire and north into the taiga forests. Xiongnu style arrowheads and Han bronze mirror fragments far up the Siberian river courses show that distant northern realms were also linked into exchanges with the steppe empire and its Eurasian
Rule by the Horse 119 connections.185 Yet Xiongnu inroads into the far north were not the same as their endeavors elsewhere. They appear more scattered and far less imposing than their advances into Ordos, Hexi, and the Western Regions. Neither was Xiongnu expansion into the northwest a uniform process. In the wake of Xiongnu triumphs over Gekun and Hujie tribes of the north and west, the Upper Yenesei area that had once been full of elites interred in large log chambers beneath stone mounds was transformed into a landscape of Xiongnu provincial elites. Some cemeteries of the previous elites were intruded upon by burials of the Xiongnu,186 and cemeteries like Terezin and Ala-Tei represented a new cast of local elites who were part of the empire. While leaders in the Upper Yenesei were integrated into the Xiongnu regime, Middle Yenesei elites appear not to have been part of the steppe empire. They possessed, and even produced, bronze prestige items of Xiongnu forms, but few elites in the Minusinsk Basin donned whole sets indicative of participation in the regime. Instead, they retained their traditional pottery, prestigious dress, and styles of burials.187 Some Minusinsk elites in their collective log tombs had single pieces of Xiongnu belts. A handful of people were laid to rest in wood coffins with full Xiongnu belts, including openwork bronze plates and rings and Chinese coins. Yet these seeming constituents of the regime who possessed pieces of Xiongnu prestige were interred with offerings of local style pottery.188 Only a small portion of people interred in the lesser stone cist graves were laid to rest straight with arms folded over and livestock heads at their feet. While some areas along the periphery were absorbed into the imperial realms, powerful entities further out in the fringes of the empire, like that of the Minusinsk, retained significant cultural and political independence. The northern Altai lands, just south of the Yenesei, had once been the center of a pastoral polity that expanded its influence and networks of exchange far into areas of the Tian Shan, Ordos and even toward Persia. But it diminished drastically as mounting attacks from the Xiongnu annihilated elite factions in the area. Similar to conspicuous cemeteries in the Upper Yenesei, stone mounded tombs with lavishly furnished log chambers all but disappeared. Some ritual traditions of Altai communities were preserved—with sheep sacra and vertebrae on platters as well as occasional offerings of whole horses overtop burial chambers—but only in the contexts of small stone cist graves equivalent to lesser local leaders of the Sayan-Altai region.189 A handful of the dozens of locales in the once powerful Altai kingdom continued as hubs of nomadic chiefs. Many noble chiefs of the demolished Altai kingdom may have been slayed or ousted, leaving behind the lesser leaders to take control in their absence, but these remnant Altai constituents were not incorporated into the Xiongnu regime. Unlike the neighboring Upper Yenesei communities, items of specifically Xiongnu style were rarely used in the Altai. Wave-line decorated pottery
120 Xiongnu was scarce, and local elites brandished openwork bronze belt pieces with animal themes that only somewhat resembled emblems of Xiongnu political culture.190 As regional polities in the Altai were dismantled under pressure from the Xiongnu, some of their elite hordes may have fled westward as the Yuezhi did. Others may have remained, stripped of political power. But some appear to have relocated, by force or by opportunity, into the heartlands of the empire. And as they were folded into communities in the core Mongolian grasslands, their regional practices came with them. The Altai custom of offering whole horses laid alongside elite burial chambers found its way into a handful of Xiongnu communities east of the Khangai Mountains. At the large multi- cemetery site of Baga Gazaryn Chuluu in southern Mongolia, two individual graves, while marked with Xiongnu stone rings rather than Altai stone mounds, contained whole horses in a sleeping position beside wooden coffins, and one man also had sheep and cattle extremities placed as offerings at his feet similar to practices in the Upper Yenesei.191 Such intermixtures of ritual customs from peripheral realms at places within the central Mongolian steppe demonstrate how the expansion of the empire, amid ambitious exertions of influence abroad, simultaneously affected the manner of its core communities.192 Elites at Salkhityn Am in northern Mongolia represent an even greater influx from the peripheries.193 Only two individuals out of the entire, albeit small, cemetery had genetic heritage linking them to local populations. They were both men, and genetically so close they were perhaps even brothers. The rest of the interred elites were related to peoples coming from the far western regions (e.g., from Sayan-Altai or even further west from Central Asia).194 And with those immigrating people from the west came traditions from the west. Two of the western-related men were buried with standard accoutrements of mounted warriors of the Xiongnu, but were also honored with whole sacrificed horses laid beside them in typical Altai elite fashion. Many of the elite women linked to far western populations were laid to rest with standard Xiongnu belts, including large disc rings, as well as livestock heads and hooves laid at their feet. Many of these immigrating peoples appear to have been kin, including one other woman of northwestern origins, closely related to a person at Salkhityn Am, who was buried in a cemetery only a dozen kilometers away within the same valley.195 The most venerated woman at Salkhityn Am wore a full belt of Xiongnu status, lined with rows of cowrie shells and bearing two large bronze openwork disc rings and two openwork bronze belt plates with panthers and serpents. She also had several exotic items, including turquoise beads and a Chinese mirror fragment. All of these flaunted her wealth and status in Xiongnu society (Figure 4.10[4]; Figure 4.12). But she was laid to rest in a side-niche pit typical of nomadic elites in the far southern frontier near the Yellow River, and she was honored with sacrifices of
Rule by the Horse 121
Figure 4.12 Prestige items from Salkhityn Am grave 7. (1) broken Chinese siru bronze mirror, (2) bronze openwork animal belt plate (mounted on wood). Institute of Archaeology, Mongolia.
a whole horse on the ledge beside her and the heads of a sheep and two cattle at her feet, equivalent to elite rites in the Sayan-Altai. So while her belt indicated elite status as part of the Xiongnu regime, the burial customs with which she was venerated were a mixture of traditions from the core Mongolian steppe as well as the southern and northwestern peripheries, the latter of which was likely her homeland or that of her close kin. Along with widespread genetic intermixing of peoples in the heartlands of the empire there existed a cultural diversity; in part from persistent regional traditions of elites in the Mongolian grasslands and in some small part from remnant practices of elites emigrating into the core realms. Although elites who participated in the Xiongnu Empire conformed to accoutrements of Xiongnu political culture, the different hordes incorporated into the empire clearly retained some of their own traditions. And just as the Xiongnu likely sent out hordes from
122 Xiongnu the core realms to rule peripheral domains, so were some hordes, such as the westerners at Salkhityn Am, given higher status in the Xiongnu political system than those families already present when integrated into their new locales in the central realms of the empire. The manners in which new hordes and realms were integrated into the regime were far from uniform, and the extent of Xiongnu authority in the more distant and peripheral areas was often sporadic and patchy. Sometimes the expanding empire pervaded with great strength far beyond fortified frontiers. Other times elites of ostensibly subdued neighboring polities, who had acquiesced to tribute payments and adopted the attire of Xiongnu rulers, remained staunchly independent. Most Xiongnu style belt plates worn by elites in the Minusinsk Basin were locally made and emphasized motifs that were rare elsewhere, namely yaks and geometric designs.196 Moreover, many of them were deposited in metal hoards with other bronze ornaments and iron weapons, a practice seen nowhere else within the sphere of Xiongnu influence.197 These alternative themes and treatments for emblems of the Xiongnu Empire, when considered alongside the perpetuation of large log tombs, call into question the degree to which such communities were part of the regime. Groups that adopted Xiongnu paraphernalia as their primary accoutrements of prestige, like those in scattered pockets of the Western Regions and the Songnen Plains, may have acquiesced in greater capacity to Xiongnu supremacy. At the same time, appropriation of the Xiongnu vocabulary of power provided the foundations for symbolic appropriation of the reins of power. During the course of Xiongnu growth in the second century bce, power shifted drastically from centers of fallen kingdoms, like in the northern Altai, toward the rapidly growing power in the central Mongolian steppe. As the steppe empire solidified its authority, however, some subordinate groups retained a significant degree of autonomy—independence that would later empower them to throw off the yoke of the ruling Luandi clan and vie for control of the steppe empire. Harnessing Eurasia Modun and the early chanyus did more than merely storm across vast realms. They harnessed them to create a profitable and durable political entity. But this did not require a heavy infrastructure or entrenched bureaucracy. Rather than seeking to directly administer all the vast realms of Inner Asia, the Xiongnu wanted only to harvest their resources. Their strategy was to control not land and production but movements and products. By seizing major nodes and incorporating existing regional networks, the Xiongnu were able to rein in the resources of peripheral groups and direct the flows of wealth to their exclusive benefit. Surpluses from local hordes were integrated with distant ventures under
Rule by the Horse 123 the reins of Xiongnu rulers, and the Mongolian steppe became the economic hub of Eastern Eurasia. Yet with such minimal reins of rule, how could the Xiongnu maintain authority if those beneath sought to buck them? With more than mere coercion, the Great Chiefs convinced provincial leaders that relinquishing authority was in their best interest. While these constituent hordes retained much control in their own locales, that control was inexorably tied to the ruling clans. The Xiongnu refashioned local wealth debts and land entitlements as imperial contracts. They fostered codified accoutrements of political status to discern those who were members of the imperial network contributing to and benefitting from the endeavors of the nomadic empire. Elites of the Xiongnu Empire comprised the nodes of wealth for Inner Asia— nodes through which tribute debts and trade agreements, and goods and peoples all flowed. Furs from the North and silks from the South filtered through the centralized pastoral economy of the Xiongnu and through redistribution networks of the nomadic elites. Just as profits were garnered from trade through the Mongolian steppe, so was wealth harvested from trade passing along routes within reach of the core steppe lands like the Hexi Corridor and Songnen Plain. By firmly consolidating the multitude of chiefs and households within a coordinated network—one that funneled great surplus and profit into the hands of both local and regional steppe elites—the Xiongnu had created a prosperous and resilient empire. In such settings, accoutrements proclaiming affiliation with the affluent regime were valuable instruments regardless of whether one was a core member of the regime or a peripheral participant. The Xiongnu strategy of compelling the adoption of codified imperial attire while accommodating the ritual customs and feasting traditions of provincial elites created a political culture that afforded the participation of communities throughout Inner Asia. The Xiongnu created an empire with a supple political culture and structure, one that could be reshaped or renegotiated at various scales or spheres when necessary. But such flexibility was as potentially beneficial as it was potentially detrimental. The openness that enabled the rapid and broad expansion of the singular political community of the Xiongnu regime also left it open to challenges from within and from without. As the empire grew and strove to strengthen its hold, there were the usual growing pains of imperial regimes—more surplus wealth along with more entitlements of constituent elites—all making the empire more robust yet simultaneously more difficult to manage.
5
Of Wolves and Sheep
B
y the reign of the third chanyu, Junchen, the Xiongnu were masters of all Inner Asia. They had subdued their greatest adversary, the Han of the Central Plains, and driven their oldest adversaries, the Yuezhi of Hexi, far west beyond the Tian Shan. As the Xiongnu ousted large hordes from conquered lands, local tribes like the Wusun were given control over the new provinces. This group, like many, was not integrated into the political hierarchy but had been granted power as a close affiliate of the steppe regime. The Wusun had long suffered under Yuezhi subservience, but under Xiongnu rule they were chiefs of Hexi and charged with protecting the Western Regions.1 Their leader, the Kunmo, led sieges on small towns near Hexi domains and garnered numerous victories on behalf of the Xiongnu.2 In 133 bce, only a couple dozen years after the Wusun were given control of Hexi, the Kunmo made a request from Junchen Chanyu to lead a more far- reaching campaign against the Yuezhi who had fled westward. The pretense for the Kunmo’s long-distance assault was a recompense against the Yuezhi kings for having murdered his father, but the long-standing Xiongnu animosity for the Yuezhi certainly helped approval of the campaign. Wusun forces demolished the Yuezhi, forcing their noble generals, or Yabgu Lords, to splinter yet again and spread further out into Central Asia.3 Those Yabgu Lords who managed to flee with their hordes took refuge along the northern banks of the Syr Darya, cinched between nomadic kings of the Kazakh steppes and oasis cities of Bactria.4 In the wake of retreating Yuezhi hordes, the Kunmo seized the opportunity to lead all of his constituent hordes to new domains in Ili Valley, which had pastures far more plentiful than those of their previous Hexi lands. The Wusun had profited in their role as a large affiliate entity beholden to the Xiongnu, but they eagerly took up formal residence in a region far detached from the Xiongnu realms. In 126 bce, after Junchen Chanyu had died, the Kunmo refused to make the journey from his new domain to the Xiongnu court for the establishment of the next chanyu. With this shunning silence, the Wusun threw off the reins of the Xiongnu. Yichixia, the new chanyu, dispatched armies to cross the Western Regions and punish the Kunmo for his defiance, but these campaigns garnered
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0005
Of Wolves and Sheep 125 no victories. Declaring that the Wusun were still under their control yet too distant to manage, the Xiongnu halted any further assaults.5 Years later, when the Han emissary Zhang Qian reached Ili Valley in search of the Yuezhi to make allies with the greatest Xiongnu foe, in their place he found the thriving and independent kingdom of the Wusun. Modun Chanyu and his immediate successors had rapidly expanded their centralized network of local elite agents to forge a colossal imperial regime with influence throughout eastern and central Eurasia. Through their early conquests and subsequent solidifying campaigns, they sought to either wrangle adversaries under their control or rend them asunder. Each enemy and each region was subjected to a different tactic. As for the Han, they allegedly spoke of them as being “vast and large, yet unable [to endure] hunger and thirst. [And if] one wolf is lost, the thousand sheep scatter.”6 In engagements with the Han, the Xiongnu targeted their leaders, be they emperors or generals. And the saying seemingly applied to their Yuezhi enemies as well, who repeatedly scattered when their kings were killed or captured. But did the Xiongnu have the same weaknesses? Under what circumstances would constituents of the Xiongnu falter and scatter? Lesser chiefs occasionally defected from the Xiongnu, taking their constituent households with them, but those defections were greatly outweighed by the stream of leaders from neighboring polities who defected to the ranks of the steppe empire. Serious challenges to Xiongnu authority only occurred when large collections of hordes, not just handfuls of leaders, grew prosperous or bold enough to throw off the reins, as the Wusun did.7 Soon after the Kunmo staged his defection, a young Han emperor also bucked Xiongnu authority and launched a series of invasions. When war with the Han Empire exploded across the Xiongnu southern frontiers, numerous Xiongnu dignitaries were killed or captured. Yet war with the Han was not the ultimate catastrophe for the Xiongnu Empire that centuries of historians have claimed. In the face of war with the Han, the mobile empire adapted to exterior pressures, its Great Chiefs retaining control over whole regions and avoiding fissure by repositioning their hordes and many of their domains. But as these exterior pressures eventually waned, underlying interior tensions drew to a head. Decades after full-scale war with a foreign power subsided, crippling crises exploded from within the empire. Provincial chiefs at the fringes began to assert their own prominence in the heart of the empire. Eventually, the worst would come when large groups within the steppe attempted to seize the imperial reins from the ruling Luandi clan. In this case, it was not an idiomatic wolf that would lead to the fracturing of the Xiongnu, but rather the rise of too many wolves preying upon apparent opportunities for ultimate power in Eurasia.
126 Xiongnu Empires in Arms For well over half a century, the Han Empire had been a substantial source of wealth for the Xiongnu. As Familial Alliances were repeatedly consecrated, gifts of horses and furs from the Xiongnu chanyu were exponentially reciprocated with even greater tribute payments of silks and other luxury goods from the Han emperor.8 Han nobles had excessive demands for sable, stoat, fox, and marmot furs from the far north as well as for colored wool felts made by Hu herders.9 Even more important than these diplomatic exchanges were the open frontier markets that created avenues not only for local steppe groups to procure goods from the Central Plains but also for them to vend goods they had produced themselves or obtained from further north to the eager Han consumers. And, despite protests at the Han court, the Chinese had as much to gain from open markets as their steppe neighbors. But as herder households came to trade at the frontier, so did they launch raids against Han towns and abscond with spoils of animals and peoples. Han commanders in the frontier made loud complaints but rarely retaliated. When a Han general, after enduring repeated raiding, made a bold maneuver in 142 bce to lead an army north of the Han fortifications and attack the Xiongnu, he garnered no conclusive victory. Two months later the Xiongnu again bombarded his garrison lands.10 During Junchen’s long reign, incursions from the South were uncommon and defections to the South even less. The only major instance of defection to the Han regime without major recompense from the chanyu occurred in 147 bce. Seven minor Xiongnu chiefs submitted with “their followers” to the Han, and all but one were granted command of over a thousand households. Such a distinction was a testament to their desire to maintain the equivalency of a Xiongnu rank of Chief of Thousands.11 One of them was seated within the Han capital district of Chang’an, and two more were given small principalities in the Central Plains, far from the Great Chiefs and their hordes. But four others were given land and title near the frontier still under threat from Xiongnu Chiefs of the Left Realms. In 133 bce, the same year the Wusun made their move for independence, the Han launched a ploy to capture the chanyu. An elderly merchant posing as a dealer of contraband goods ventured north into the steppe with clandestine promises of handing over resources of the rich frontier city of Mayi to the Xiongnu. Following the bait, Junchen Chanyu confidently rode forth with an army of a hundred thousand horsemen past the Long Walls. Numerous Xiongnu forces before him had done the same, attaining great spoils, and the chanyu set out with aims to swiftly take the wealthy town. But as Junchen traversed the pastures south of Han fortifications, pilfering along the way, he was reportedly perplexed by the abundance of livestock with no one to tend them. He interrogated a beacon tower clerk only to find out that
Of Wolves and Sheep 127 several hundreds of thousands of Han troops under the command of four prominent generals lay in wait outside Mayi. The chanyu then swiftly returned northward, praising the clerk as a messenger of Heaven. Hearing of Junchen’s return north, the other Han generals, who were on route to ambush the supply wagons of the Xiongnu, abandoned their attack.12 The Han trap had failed, but the spark of war was lit. The Xiongnu suspended the peace treaty of Familial Alliance and launched numerous raids all across the frontier. And yet Xiongnu caravans continued to come south and engage in trade at border towns. Han colonists and merchants, who profited greatly from open markets, strove to keep the avenues of exchange open regardless of incipient clashes between the imperial regimes.13 It was against these throngs of trading Xiongnu within the borderlands, not a Xiongnu army, that the Han launched a massive coordinated attack in 130 bce. Han armies again failed to inflict great defeat, but one of the four assaulting generals managed to venture deep and reach the court of the chanyu at Long-cheng where he captured the heads of hundreds of men.14 Throughout the following year, the Xiongnu retaliated in escalated fashion, killing Han commanders, capturing soldiers, and bombarding the borderlands. The initial response to the Mayi incident may have resembled previous occasions of heightened raids, but the subsequent retaliations of the new Han emperor exacerbated the situation. The ensuing decades of full-scale war drastically altered the landscape of the frontier and the course of the Xiongnu and Han empires. As large affiliate groups like the Wusun made moves to break free of Xiongnu control, so did the Han seek to buck Xiongnu hegemony. The Militant Emperor In the latter years of the prodigious Junchen Chanyu, a fifteen-year-old boy became emperor of the Han dynasty. He concluded a Familial Alliance with the Xiongnu just as his predecessors had done, with lavish gifts and open border markets (Figure 5.1).15 Yet this young new emperor would soon instigate an unprecedented aggressive stance, with coordinated campaigns deep into Xiongnu territory and the establishment of numerous garrisons and colonies across the borderlands. He would well earn his reign name of Wu, “The Militant.” In 128 bce, only a couple years after the chanyu’s camp had been attacked, the Militant Emperor dispatched multiple armies to assault Xiongnu lands north of the Long Walls.16 During the early stages of war, the Han still made diplomatic gestures. Some of the “outlying territories” of Han colonies along the Left Realms that had been hit hardest by repeated Xiongnu invasions were given over to the chanyu.17 The Militant Emperor sought instead to concentrate efforts on retaking Ordos lands nearest to his capital and in the heart of their frontier. In 127 bce, Han generals invaded the Ordos Plateau. They battered the Loufan and Boyang hordes and
128 Xiongnu
Figure 5.1 Xiongnu and Han forces in battle. Xiongnu troops and commanders at right in pointed caps (with bows), Han at left with flat-top hats (with bows and halberd-spears), Xiongnu captives and trophy heads at left. Drawing by Mara Nakama, after tomb carving from Changqing Xiaotangshan in Shandong, China.
their kings loyal to the Xiongnu regime, killing thousands of enemy troops and capturing supply carts and livestock as booty. They then demolished forces of the affiliate chiefs of Puni and Fuli, capturing and interrogating thousands of their military spies and driving off with multitudes of people and several tens of thousands of livestock.18 Almost immediately after, Han forces began to repair the old northern walls of the Qin and build a new fortified garrison at the northwestern upper bend of the Yellow River. Ordos pasturelands were quickly enveloped by Han colonies that lined the Yellow River and dotted the interior of the realm that Han chroniclers called “Within the River.” The Great Chiefs struggled against Han aggressions, but it was the peripheral chiefs of the Xiongnu who bore the brunt of attacks on their pastures, herds, and people. In 126 bce, amid escalating pressure from aggressive Han forays into Xiongnu provinces, the long-reigning chanyu Junchen died. Instead of his young son and heir Yudan succeeding him, the more seasoned Luli King of the Left established himself as Yichixia Chanyu. Chiefs of the Left had thus far made the most substantial incursions into Han territory, garnering vast spoils and illustrious reputations. The ceding of Han lands to the Left Chiefs had further bolstered their position in the steppe empire. When Yichixia and his accompanying Left armies demolished his nephew’s forces, he further demonstrated his might and secured his place as the next Magnificent One of the Xiongnu. But Yudan did not simply disappear. He followed the earlier example of the minor Xiongnu chiefs who had gone south to submit to the Han and been established as lords in the Central Plains.19 Although he died a few months later, he had opened the possibility for other high-ranking Xiongnu nobles to garner title and domain if they submitted to the rival Han regime. Although Yichixia’s claim, being the first lateral succession, was formally sanctioned by the assembly of Great Chiefs and preserved the hold of the Luandi royal clan over the position of chanyu, it opened the possibility for contestations
Of Wolves and Sheep 129 and armed conflict between Great Chiefs in the process of succession. In the same year that the Kunmo of Wusun refused to recognize Yichixia and remained in his new Ili domain far to the west, the disaffected Yudan conceded to the Han in protest of his uncle seizing the title of chanyu. Yichixia Chanyu launched large assaults against the Han colonies that harbored Yudan, killing and capturing thousands upon thousands. By 125 bce, the Right Tuqi King and his hordes joined the assaults and besieged the new Han garrison at the northern edge of the Ordos. Xiongnu forces slaughtered Han functionaries and plundered colonies “South of the River.”20 Attacks had begun as punitive assaults, but in reality they aimed to take back Ordos lands seized by the Han. The loss of timber and salt resources in spots along the upper bend of the Yellow River was perhaps part of the predicament of intruding Han operations, but the vast pastures of the Ordos surrounding the bold Han garrisons were the most critical reserves for the hordes of regional chiefs and residing kings of the Xiongnu. Confident in his renewed hold over the Ordos realms, the Right Tuqi King returned to his noble encampment far beyond the Han fortifications. But, in the following year, in the middle of a night of drinking and feasting, his camp was suddenly surrounded by a Han force of several generals with more than a hundred thousand troops. The Right Tuqi King escaped northward, but the Han army devastated his horde, capturing ten or more of his subordinate kings, a multitude of more than fifteen thousand men and women, and several hundreds to millions of livestock.21 In 123 bce, Han generals again led forces northward into the heart of Xiongnu territories. One young Han general with only eight hundred cavalry broke away from the main columns and caught up with portions of the chanyu’s forces. He killed over two thousand troops and beheaded a Chancellor and Danghu of the royal court. More importantly, he executed one Lord Jiruo, an elderly noble who was a member of the royal Luandi clan from Modun’s generation, and captured Yichixia’s uncle Luogubi.22 Not only were peripheral chiefs of the Xiongnu assailed, but the core families of the chanyu were also under direct assault by Han armies. The young Han general was rewarded with noble lands and dubbed the General of Agile Cavalry, but his was the only decisive victory in that campaign. Both the Xiongnu and the Han had multitudes of casualties. Another Han general in the offensive barely escaped, and a third submitted to the Xiongnu. The submitting general had originally been a low-ranking chancellor among the Xiongnu who had defected to the Han eight years prior. He had been given a Chinese name, Zhao Xin, and rank in Han society.23 He had even joined in the first Han assaults of the war against the Xiongnu and garnered more lands through his victories over Xiongnu chiefs.24 But when he led his own division of Han troops north and “encountered” the army of the chanyu, he quickly surrendered. He then re-entered the Xiongnu ranks with a much higher position
130 Xiongnu than his original standing, as the Secondary King to the chanyu. Yichixia Chanyu gave Zhao Xin his elder sister as a wife and had a fortified abode built for him along the Khangai Mountains.25 The case of Zhao Xin’s submission before the war erupted demonstrates that the steppe empire was to some degree permeable, both in its penetration of neighboring entities and in the leaking out of its own low-level constituents. In the subsequent years of war, more chiefs would defect to the Han for rewards and join in the assaults against Xiongnu hordes to garner spoils and titles. Yet Zhao Xin also exemplifies how an ambitious chief outside the ranks of the ruling clans could, albeit through circuitous means, advance his station from a lesser office to one on par with the Great Chiefs. Zhao Xin, and perhaps other untold captives and defectors, offered knowledge of the Han military as well as an alternative strategy for dealing with the southern nuisance. As the new Secondary King, Zhao Xin “instructed the chanyu to take the advantage by moving north [away from the Yellow River] and being cut off by the Curtain [of Desert], using [this] to lure and exhaust the Han troops, to coerce them into the extremes, and then snatch them without even [coming] near to their fortifications.”26 The chanyu purportedly ceased setting up royal camp near the Yellow River yet continued to orchestrate assaults across the frontier. The Han attempted invasions of the East, but the Left Tuqi King summarily defeated them.27 If Xiongnu hegemony were to break, the Militant Emperor would have to change his strategy. Rather than merely fighting over lands directly bordering the Central Plains, Han generals began to target the Hexi Corridor and lands beyond. The first new onslaught shattered the conglomerate of provincial kings who governed the Hexi Corridor on behalf of the Xiongnu. In the Spring of 121 bce, Han armies stormed through five “kingly” domains in eastern Hexi taking captives, and several Xiongnu chiefs who had recently defected to the Han joined the assault. One defector killed a Xiongnu King of Subu, earning the Chinese name Po-Nu, “Smasher of the (Xiong)Nu.”28 The conglomerate army charged onward into western Hexi, leaving behind spoils of “weighted wagons and multitudes of fearful people” in order to pursue the greater prize of the chanyu’s son. In the process, they killed two more Xiongnu kings, of Zhelan and of Luhu, wiping out their troops, and captured the Chancellor, Great Commandant, and son of the western King of Hunye. The victorious generals then returned to the Han capital with thousands of captives and the symbolic prize of sacred metal statues from the King of Xiuchu, objects used for making offerings to the Xiongnu Heavenly god Jinglu.29 In summer, Han generals were again invading with greater forces. Xiongnu defector chiefs and the previous provincial King of Gou joined the attacks. They sped west through Hexi and crossed over the Ejin River, pushing deeper into Xiongnu territory and killing far more enemy troops than they captured.
Of Wolves and Sheep 131 Reaching the Qilian Mountains, they captured a horde of Xiongnu imperial dignitaries, including several dozen generals, chancellors, commandants, and danghu officials, as well as one of the wives of Yichixia Chanyu. The capture of a great host of royal nobles stung the Xiongnu court, but the capture of five separate regional kings and their families wounded the empire even more deeply.30 Several significant nodes of the imperial network had been culled, causing the Xiongnu to lose control over the crossroads of trade and the verdant alpine grasslands of the Hexi Corridor. For the Xiongnu, the loss of the Qilian and Yanzhi mountain ranges was so severe it inspired odes of sorrow lamenting the fodder from their lush pastures and the marvelous dairy from animals grazed there. Herds from there were renowned for “producing cattle milk and kumiss thick and delicious . . . [as for] the cut grass its tops did not break apart, the butter is particularly delicious, and one measure of the kumiss can be raised up greater than the butter.” Qilian Mountains, winter and summer, cold and cool; Suitable pasturage, oxen and sheep, full and fat, milk and kumiss delicious.31 By autumn, the web of Xiongnu affiliate chiefs that spanned the Right realms was rapidly unraveling. Yichixia Chanyu, clearly angered by the failures of his subordinates, summoned the defeated Hunye and Xiuchu kings with aims to execute them. Their only recourse was to marshal their hordes and march toward the Han frontier to surrender. En route, the Hunye King killed the Xiuchu King and combined their forces into a mass of over forty thousand. Hunye’s resulting claim of “tens of thousands” was a clear pronouncement of rank equaling the high Great Chiefs of the Xiongnu imperial hierarchy—the Chiefs of Tens of Thousands. He and his subordinate kings received noble titles and fiefs in similar fashion to most of the previous defectors, within Han lands far from the Xiongnu frontier. The remaining hordes splintered apart and were partitioned into lands just outside the Han frontier fortresses. But unlike the grand Hunye leader and his kings, these lesser chiefs and households were not folded into Han society, and the frontier became occupied by submitted yet independent hordes. Although masses of Han commoners were relocated northward in attempts to “fill” the Ordos lands, “all [herder groups residing] south of the [Yellow] River hence [could retain] their original customs and were [counted] as affiliate states.”32 These historical narratives of military engagements and their outcomes not only impart the fate of particular Xiongnu chiefs, they allow us to peel back the veils of Xiongnu rule and view the composition of provincial domains. This is especially beneficial for areas like Hexi, in which archaeological remains demonstrate no conspicuous presence of Xiongnu nobles or participating communities. The Xiongnu exerted control in many of its peripheries without the direct
132 Xiongnu incorporation of local hordes into the political hierarchy, but these areas were still essential components of the empire. The Hexi Corridor had at least twelve major affiliated “kings,” as well as their subordinate chiefs and households. They retained their own domains but also lived among other independent though lesser groups like remnant Yuezhi hordes.33 These regional elites retained close ties with the Xiongnu regime since many high dignitaries and even a wife of the chanyu were discovered there in the course of Han invasions. The chanyu had agents of the imperial nobility in residence, or at least on itinerant visits, within the realms of otherwise autonomous provincial kings. But as Hexi began to empty of its powerful Xiongnu-affiliated chiefs, it was infiltrated by Han commanders who took hold of key power bases like Juyan at the intersection of critical routes east to west and north to south. Those hordes that remained inhabited not a secure province of the Xiongnu but a highly contested frontier. Soon after the Han invasions of Hexi, core steppe lands of the empire came under assault. In spring of 119 bce, two Han armies, each with fifty thousand militia mounted on grain-fed horses and followed by equal numbers of foot soldiers with provision-bearing horses traversed the desert “Curtain” of the Gobi in pursuit of the chanyu.34 Yichixia quickly moved all his households and supply wagons further northward. But the Han generals pursued the chanyu into northern lands with the likes of Zhang Qian, a Han dignitary who had lived for over a decade among the Xiongnu. He “guided the army, knowing the places with good water and grass; [and] the army was able to proceed without hunger or thirst.”35 In the dry steppe, amid a sandstorm, one of the Han armies swiftly surrounded and wreaked havoc upon the royal camp. Han odes composed years later to commemorate the assault recounted, Bashing the fenwen [carts], smashing the canopied huts, The brains of the Sand Curtain [Desert], the marrow of Yuwu [River], Thereupon [they] hunted the court of the Hu King, Drove off the camels, burned the mile [curds], Fragmented and flayed the Chanyu [forces], dismembered and rendered the affiliate states, Razed and buried the grains, uprooted the lumu [pastures], carved a mountain stone, Trampled the corpses, drove off with attendants, and took up the old and weak, Gathered the spears of the wounded and fallen, several hundred thousand men struck down by metal arrowheads. All [kowtowed], submitting [like] bending bugs; for more than twenty years hence [the Hu] dared naught and held back [their] breath.36
Of Wolves and Sheep 133 The invading Han armies set about destroying crop fields and ripping up lush grasslands in their rampage across Xiongnu domains. With Yichixia defeated and his horde demolished, the Great Chiefs scrambled. Within days, the Right Luli King appointed himself the next chanyu, and the other nobles all appear to have endorsed him.37 The Xiongnu had suffered a brutal defeat, but the core leadership did not falter. In the meantime, the other Han army barraged the Left Realms, incorporating captured steppe militia as it went and confiscating carts of supplies. Some regional kings, and even a close associate of Yichixia, were killed in the onslaught, but most of the resident imperial nobles were captured or forced to surrender.38 After having subdued at least four powerful provincial kings, this second invading army pushed far north, crossing the Kherlen River. Han soldiers cut down the banners and captured the war drums of the Xiongnu Left Great General. And, in further symbolic assault, the generals made Han imperial sacrifices to Heaven and Earth atop Xiongnu sacred peaks in the Khentii Mountains. They stormed as far as the mountains south of Lake Baikal before returning to the Central Plains.39 Prose accounts by Han literati would continue to praise the leading Han generals for decades to come as having achieved victories that shattered the Xiongnu Empire.40 The generals were recounted as launching attacks with armies like a [meteor] shower of stars, cutting and ripping apart the court of the [Hu] Kings, sweeping up [all] north of the Desert, knocking off and reining in the Qilian [domains], flattening and fractioning [the forces of] the Chanyu, slaughtering and splintering the Hundred Barbarians. [They] burned the wool cloths and canopy [tents], bound up the yanzhi [consort wives], roasted the Kangju [lords?], brought to ashes the treasures and exotica, hammered the whistling arrows, nailed the Luli Kings, galloped over the gullies and ramparts, captured the Kunmo [ruler], took captive the Shuzhen [forces], drove off the mules and donkeys, drove off with the Yuan horses, and whipped the hinnies [away].41 But this dual assault was not the precipitous victory that the Han boasted. Late during the night of the Han attack on the Xiongnu royal camp, Yichixia Chanyu had managed to break through the enemy line, fleeing in the company of several hundred horsemen. Despite an initial triumph over the royal horde, the Han were forced into a futile hunt for the chanyu. Yichixia had gone missing for ten days. But as soon as he had gathered forces and reemerged, the Right Luli King rescinded his claim as chanyu. The reigning chanyu had briefly lost his forces but never lost his authority. The exhausted Han army then wandered in pursuit, feeding off small captured camps and plundering grain stores at Xiongnu strongholds before returning, drastically depleted, to the Central Plains. Regardless of glorifying odes or captured banners and kings, Han invasions failed to cause a crippling defeat of the Xiongnu regime. Han generals had first
134 Xiongnu penetrated the core Xiongnu lands with a hundred and forty thousand horses and returned with only thirty thousand. The equine components essential for the Han northern armies were severely diminished, making further forays impractical for a long time to come.42 In the wake of the stinging Han invasions, Yichixia sent Zhao Xin to offer the Han court a return to the Familial Alliance treaties. The Militant Emperor refused.43 Han garrisons expanding out from the Yellow River attempted to “nibble away” at Xiongnu lands and authority. But onslaughts from the Great Chiefs continued for decades into Hexi, Ordos, and areas eastward, circumventing the Han garrisons. Decades of war resulted in stalemate and heavy losses on both sides. When Yichixia’s son Wuwei became the next chanyu in 114 bce, the Militant Emperor did the furthest thing from offering a renewal of the Familial Alliance. He made a formal show of military inspections of his frontier armies. Two years later, as the Militant Emperor again commanded performance drills at the Ordos frontier, an emissary from the Han court arrived to demand the new chanyu’s submission. Vilifying the chanyu as a coward “hiding north of the Curtain in cold and bitter lands with no water or grass,” he goaded Wuwei to either face the Militant Emperor in open battle at the southern frontier or, if incapable, to come south and submit directly as a vassal of the Han. But the lands north of the desert “Curtain” to which the chanyu had shifted focus were anything but bitter or barren. They were filled with even greener pastures and dotted with farming villages that made for a prosperous seat of power. The nomadic regime was as strong as ever. Wuwei Chanyu beheaded his Master of Guests who had allowed the taunting emissary into his royal tent and exiled the Han representative to the shores of Lake Baikal. In much the same fashion as Modun had done after years of conquests, Wuwei let “rest, nourish and breathe the soldiers and horses, [set to] practice shooting and hunting,” and, undaunted, made another request for Familial Alliance.44 In the next year, a seemingly more accommodating emissary arrived from the Han, willing to relinquish Han insignias and tattoo his face to gain entry into the chanyu’s royal tent. This new emissary convinced Wuwei to send his heir apparent to the Han court to ask for a royal bride. It appeared to be the opening gestures for a Familial Alliance. But this delegation had been sent to swindle and spy on the chanyu. Han delegations were simultaneously dispatched westward; one to court with the Great Xia of Bactria and their new Yuezhi overlords, and another to bring a Han royal bride for the Wusun Kunmo, now entrenched in Ili, in hopes of “cutting off the right arm of the Xiongnu.”45 News of this enraged the chanyu. Brides from the Han royal family were deemed bestowals only for the Magnificent One of the Xiongnu Empire, and certainly not for any antagonizing adversary in the West. So when the chanyu received orders to send his heir apparent as a formal
Of Wolves and Sheep 135 hostage of the Han rather than as a recipient of a Han princess, Wuwei remained obstinate that this was not a proper Familial Alliance.46 In 107 bce, Xiongnu frontier kings recommenced invasions into Ordos and Hexi, though most often using covert armies or instigating forces of local commanders. Although they disengaged larger cavalry groups from exhaustive full-scale campaigns, sporadic raids by their low-level chiefs allowed provincial leaders to regain lost resources at incremental yet broad scales, all the while denying any involvement. Since the chanyu repeatedly claimed deniability of the actions of lesser chiefs, the Xiongnu were able to surreptitiously continue their extractions of animals and people from their southern neighbors and formally claim a peace that ostensibly reinstated tribute missions and barred any major assaults from forces of the Militant Emperor.47 By the time Wuwei died in 105 bce, the Great Chiefs had shifted the foci of their domains, not so much as a retraction of power but as a reaction to shifting prospects. Inroads into the Han Empire were no longer as open or profitable, so the noble chiefs leaned more toward their subordinates in the northern and western reaches. While Han and Xiongnu armies were embroiled in war across the borderlands between them, Xiongnu endeavors further into Central Asia were proving increasingly lucrative. Imperial agents and military forces of the steppe empire were quickly reinvested into more safeguarded and reliably profitable realms. Chiefs of the Right moved their power bases from Ordos over to Hexi, filling the void left by the numerous affiliate chiefs who had surrendered to the Han. Chiefs of the Left in turn shifted from eastern lands that had borne the greatest brunt of Han aggression over to those near the initial southern base of the chanyu’s court. Lords of the Left then reinstated control of the axis for exerting power over Ordos lands.48 The Xiongnu Empire proved itself a truly “mobile state,” able to quickly and adeptly alter its spatial configuration without letting its political structure falter. As the disruptive Han eventually shifted their focus westward as well, so did the Great Chiefs move their peripheral seats of power further west to attend to the new stage of contention—Central Asia. After forays into the heart of the steppe empire failed to bring down the Xiongnu regime, Han officials in Chang’an openly debated whether it was more prudent to conclude a Familial Alliance.49 But these were the concerns of court ministers attending to the imperial treasury and the maneuvers of high-ranking generals eager to garner spoils of war or rewards of domains. The majority of those fighting the war, be they mounted archers conscripted from Xiongnu herder households or convict soldiers stationed at Han garrisons, had far less to gain. The fate of Han soldiers fighting in distant lands was grim. In an unmarked pit near one of the Han fortresses in the Gobi, the bodies of over twenty men were piled—beheaded or severed, jaws smashed or spines fractured, and many body parts intermixed.50 This may, in part, explain the multitudes of
136 Xiongnu Han soldiers who sought to flee the garrisons and be absorbed into Xiongnu society rather than slaughtered by Xiongnu armies.51 Xiongnu chiefs who were not absorbed into Han ranks could have their heads taken as trophies and, in both cases, never return. Xiongnu commoners who died in battle, whether or not their bodies made their way home, would not have been laid to rest in venerable marked graves in the kinds of cemeteries discovered by archaeologists throughout the steppe. And even while the Militant Emperor ignited war, lesser constituents of both the Xiongnu and Han realms underlying these clashes sought to keep the avenues of economic exchange flowing with goods, be they through official border markets or contraband trade. Despite the war, Han China continued to be a significant source of revenue for the Xiongnu hordes. The Great Game The costly Han campaigns of 119 bce heralded the end of open war. As losses escalated, warfare was no longer a profitable or plausible solution.52 In its stead there emerged a colder war of intrigue, diplomacy, and intermittent skirmishes. These conflicts infiltrated the highest ranks at the core of the Xiongnu Empire and increasingly played out in distant realms with foreign potentates as pawns. Market towns and local lords alike were engulfed in a struggle for hegemony over the riches that flowed through the heart of the continent. Before the Han had made any military maneuvers against the Xiongnu, the Kunmo had already challenged Xiongnu hegemony and relocated his hordes to a new realm far from the chanyu. In this new domain near to the prosperous kingdoms of Central Asia, the Wusun thrived. When Han envoys in a desperate search for the Yuezhi found the camp of the Wusun rulers instead, they came bearing a pledge from the Militant Emperor. The Han would present a royal princess to the Kunmo if he would move into the western Hexi lands that had been vacated by Xiongnu provincial kings. This was a region the Wusun had originally occupied under Yuezhi rule. But the Han gifts of tens of thousands of cattle and sheep, gold currency, and silks could not convince the Wusun to migrate back to their old domains so close to the Xiongnu.53 The Kunmo ruler was willing to engage in formal relations with the Han court, but he would not relinquish his new realm (Figure 5.2). This new Wusun domain lay securely among the lush grasslands of the Ili Plains and Heavenly Mountains, and the Kunmo was able to incorporate remnant households of the previous Saka and Yuezhi hordes that had once ruled the lands.54 In addition to ideal pastures for the livestock of their herder households, the region also contained a number of permanent villages of herders and farmers.55 In the foothills near Lake Issyk, the Kunmo and his Yabgu Lords established a fortified capital at the Valley of the Red Mount.56 Many of the Saka, who had fled from the Yuezhi and established small polities in nearby alpine
Figure 5.2 Inner Asia at war. Map denotes walls and major garrisons of the Han empire and cities of the Western Regions.
138 Xiongnu regions, still acquiesced to Wusun hegemony. Regardless of differing customs, the constituents of these fledgling Saka kingdoms eventually adopted the clothing and adornments of Wusun elites.57 The Kunmo and his Yabgu Lords established marriage alliances with lesser kingdoms in order to exert their influence over the greater Western Regions. Although the Wusun retained nominal relations with the Xiongnu rulers, their move westward had enabled them to gain independence from their previous steppe overlords and vie for control over the pockets of grasslands and mountain routes of Central Asia. They were yet another “mobile state” among several other nomadic polities, seated within the core crossroads of Eurasia and an obstacle to Xiongnu continental hegemony.58 Although he had refused the Han proposal, the Kunmo sent Wusun envoys to the Han court bearing several dozen horses as symbolic gratitude for the initial gifts from the Han envoys—steeds that the Militant Emperor hailed as Heavenly Horses.59 The Kunmo, who was at that point in far more control of distant gateways westward than the Xiongnu, allowed the Han delegation to go beyond Ili with escorts and interpreters to treat with the great rulers of the Kangju in southern Kazakhstan, the Yuan in Fergana, and the Yuezhi now in Bactria. As realms of Central Asia solidified under the reins of nomadic groups like the Wusun, Yuezhi, and Kangju, envoys from these kingdoms also welcomed invitations to the Han court. By 111 bce, powerful polities that had originally acquiesced to Xiongnu supremacy, namely the Wusun and the Han, had begun negotiations to jointly challenge Xiongnu hegemony. The first moves of a grand multiplayer game for the wealth of Eurasia had commenced. Enraged by their insubordination, Wuwei Chanyu mobilized forces to punish the Wusun. The Kunmo in turn sent a delegation to the Han court, this time with over a thousand horses, to ask for aid against the Xiongnu armies. More importantly, he asked for a Han royal bride to consecrate formal relations, an accord that neither Wuwei Chanyu nor his father Yichixia had been able to secure.60 As the Wusun delegation made its long journey to the Han capital at Chang’an, news of the defiant actions reached the Xiongnu. So when the Han sent a delegation to the Xiongnu, headed by an emissary bearing “sweet words” and willing to tattoo his face to gain entry to the tent of the chanyu, Wuwei was fully aware of this. He agreed to send his own son on a mission to the Han court and made false promises to come himself to submit. The Han built a residence for the chanyu within the capital district and awaited the arrival of his son as political hostage. But Wuwei Chanyu never went to Chang’an, sending a mere emissary in his stead.61 While stalemate between the Xiongnu and Han courts continued, the Militant Emperor sought to politically outflank Wuwei Chanyu by agreeing to send a princess from the extended Han royal family to the Kunmo. In 108 bce, the Han sent Xijun, the daughter of the king of Jiangdu principality, to serve as wife of the
Of Wolves and Sheep 139 Wusun ruler. Her supposed lamenting words imply that Han princesses were not acculturative agents with influence enough over their foreign spouses to make them embrace Chinese traditions. Rather, the traveling brides had to acclimate to steppe society and a life in “a canopied hut for a house with felt for walls [and] meat for food and lao [kumiss] for drink.”62 Wuwei Chanyu also sent a daughter of his own to the Wusun, a woman who was honored far more than the Han princess was. A Xiongnu royal bride had never before been offered to a Kunmo, and the Wusun ruler gladly accepted her as a symbol of diplomatic agreement between peer polities. The Xiongnu bride became the Left Wife while the Han bride was the Right Wife, with “left” being the rank of greater merit. The Kunmo soon after handed the Han bride down to his grandson, whom he favored to be his heir.63 The Xiongnu were not the sole regime intruding into Central Asia but they were at least still the most favored and formidable one. The Han and Wusun persisted in their collective challenge of Xiongnu hegemony, but many of the smaller kingdoms continued to ally themselves with the Xiongnu. Any envoys carrying documents from the chanyu were given shelter and provisions in the Western Regions towns. None dared detain agents of the Xiongnu Empire. While armed parties of Xiongnu continued their assaults on any delegations of their adversaries, affiliate states like Loulan and Gushi plundered Han caravans. Kings of the Western Regions quickly grew wise to the exaggerated promises and oscillating temperament of the waves of Han missions. As Chinese goods flooded the markets and Han trading parties began to fight among one another and even raid settlements on their journeys, the desire of local leaders to make concessions for Han agents rapidly diminished.64 In response to the incessant obstacles to Han interests in Central Asia, generals of the Militant Emperor turned from their futile military pursuits in the Mongolian steppe, sending armies instead to treat with or assault the western allies of the Xiongnu. In the same year that a Han bride for the Kunmo arrived at the Wusun court, the so-called Smasher of the Xiongnu, General Ponu, mobilized a small army of under a thousand cavalry from mounted forces of affiliate nomadic states within the Han frontier. Charging into the Western Regions, he captured the king of Loulan and demolished the forces of Gushi.65 Xiongnu Kings of the Right had shifted the seats of their domains westward from Ordos into Hexi in order to more easily pacify these kinds of upheavals in the Western Regions, but combined Wusun and Han assaults continually drained their forces.66 When Wuwei Chanyu died in 105 bce, his young son Wushilu became the next chanyu. Assuming that the so-called Boy Chanyu was too few in years to assert his authority, two Han emissaries arrived at the court of the new chanyu— one to console Wushilu on the passing of this father and another under the pretense of consoling the Right Tuqi King yet in actuality hoping to “shrewdly obtain his domain” for the Han.67 But Wushilu had been warned of the Han scheme, and
140 Xiongnu the treacherous envoys were held captive, hostages of the Xiongnu for more than ten years. That same year, amidst a winter of heavy snows and countless livestock deaths, the Left Great Commandant of the Xiongnu sent word to the Militant Emperor of the Han that he planned to murder the Boy Chanyu and submit. The Han erected a stronghold north of the Ordos frontier, dubbed the Fortress for Receiving Submissions, but the Left Great Commandant was unwilling to come so far south. Instead, he requested a Han army to march into the steppe and join forces with him. Wushilu again proved himself a more resolute chanyu than his Han adversaries presumed. In the following year, before the Left Great Commandant could mobilize his troops and use the invading Han forces to help overthrow him, Wushilu executed the treacherous commandant and seized the assembled cavalry of the Left. The Han army was overtaken in the midst of the steppe before they could return to their fortifications. The Smasher of Xiongnu was captured, and his lesser colonels and cavalry were pressed into defection, absorbed by Xiongnu armies. Wushilu then besieged the Fortress for Receiving Submissions and sent raiding parties to maraud the rest of the Han frontier. Having survived the hardships of a harsh winter at the outset of his reign, fended off two coup attempts and a major defection, and successfully defeated the best Han generals, the so-called Boy Chanyu was hardly an inept ruler. Unfortunately, in his third year as chanyu, while he prepared for another major assault on the Fortress for Receiving Submissions, Wushilu fell ill and died. His own son must have been far too young, or perhaps at least too young to assert his authority, such that Wushilu’s younger brother Goulihu, the current Right Tuqi King, was instead appointed by the Great Chiefs as the next chanyu. When Goulihu took the reins of the empire in 102 bce, the Han had already been building fortifications far north of the Ordos garrisons into the Gobi and north of the Hexi Corridor up as far as Juyan Lake.68 A new stretch of Han garrisons and towers spanned the Desert Curtain frontier of the Xiongnu, beyond the original line of Long Walls that delineated the terms of the treaty between the early rulers of Han Gaozu and Modun Chanyu.69 But Xiongnu forces proved this line of fortifications to be penetrable. In true fashion of a newly established chanyu proving his worth, Goulihu launched several large-scale assaults against Han forts. His forces pushed deep into the Ordos, killing or capturing thousands of men and destroying ramparts and watchtowers. At the same time, the new Right Tuqi King besieged Han colonies in the Hexi Corridor.70 The Xiongnu were pushing back hard against incursions into their western territories. But the Han were not the only players in the game for Central Asia. The Great Yuan—lords of Fergana who reared alfalfa-fed horses and managed massive wine vineyards—had for years rebuffed Han delegations bringing
Of Wolves and Sheep 141 bounteous gifts to towns over-saturated with Chinese goods. During the reign of Wushilu Chanyu, Han armies launching from Hexi and seeking to take the Yuan capital at Osh had suffered from insufficient support within the far-flung Western Regions. One Han general had been given the presumptuous title of General of Osh, assuming he would easily reach and overtake the city. However, the intricate network of small states in the Western Regions were undaunted in their allegiance to the Xiongnu. The affiliated towns, which dared not detain any missions of the chanyu, refused to supply the Han army in its campaigns westward.71 In 102 bce, as Goulihu’s armies battered enemy strongholds intruding upon the Xiongnu southern frontier, the so-called General of Osh circumvented the preoccupied Xiongnu armies and mobilized an army of unprecedented magnitude. By the following year he had managed to complete the trek from Dunhuang all the way to the Yuan capital with a force substantial enough to surround and lay siege to Osh. Allies and agents of the Xiongnu had failed to intercept or block the Han, and even though Goulihu Chanyu wanted to send reinforcements, the Yuan were now beyond reach of timely Xiongnu aid. Then, in the winter of 101 bce, Goulihu died suddenly from illness. The lords of Fergana, in their moment of need, turned instead to a nomadic state nearer to them and more capable of immediate support—the Kangju. As more players entered the game, Central Asia slipped further away from Xiongnu hegemony. The Yuan called for aid from the Kangju, and the Han requested reinforcements from the Wusun. Both made pledges of support to the embattled opponents, yet neither the Kangju nor the Wusun engaged in the struggle. While sentinels of the Kangju lingered within threatening view of the assailing Han army, thousands of Wusun cavalry paused without daring to come to the fore. The web of Central Asian alliances had come to an intricate stalemate without the involvement of the Xiongnu. Yuan nobles hence took matters into their own hands, killing their King and sending his head to the Han general to open negotiations without having to open the gates. The ambitious Han general did not capture Osh, but he had procured an accord with the Yuan nobles and coerced them to appoint a Han-sympathetic military commander as the new King of Yuan.72 When gifts from the Yuan eventually reached the Han court, the Militant Emperor shifted attention and praise toward this new more distant ally. The Great Yuan were declared the masters of Central Asia, greater than the Wusun, and their horses of Fergana were dubbed Heavenly Horses that sweat blood.73 Once the Han subdued the Yuan, they more easily partook of the spoils of markets and diplomatic missions throughout Eurasia. Even the rulers of the rapidly expanding Parthian Empire in Persia engaged with Han delegations, sending performers and ostrich eggs to the Han capital.74 Kingdoms like the Wusun still asserted some authority from within the heart of the continent, thrusting additional challenges against Xiongnu supremacy
142 Xiongnu and other foreign regimes that sought to press their agendas into Central Asia. The series of chanyus after the Han-Xiongnu war were strong and their regimes unbroken, but their reins were short. The royal clan of Luandi had to maintain numerous ties with and power over their rivals on the periphery, but this was harder to achieve when imperial entourages and webs of alliances were constantly shifting with new leaders. Only a year after assuming the position of chanyu, Goulihu died and was succeeded by his younger brother, the Left Great Commandant Judihou. Yet another son of Wuwei was established with full support of the Great Chiefs. Judihou began his reign in 101 bce with diplomatic gestures toward the Han. He released numerous captive envoys and called himself the Lesser One in correspondence with the Militant Emperor. But he also referred to the emperor as his father-in- law, a blatant statement entreating the Han for a royal daughter as his bride and hence the renewal of the Familial Alliance. The Han replied by allowing agents of the Xiongnu to return north, among them submitted affiliate chiefs like the King of Gou. But Han emissaries arrived only with caches of coins and other lesser bribes for the chanyu. Coins were not the appropriate tribute for a Familial Alliance, and no royal bride accompanied the Han delegation. To make matters worse, members of the Han delegation were plotting with a handful of Xiongnu chiefs, including the returning King of Gou, against the new chanyu.75 Among the host of new emissaries was Wei Lü, a man raised among the ranks of Hu militia serving the Han northern armies and a man rumored to desire defection. The Gou King plotted with Han delegates at the chanyu’s camp to kill Wei Lü and abscond with the chanyu’s mother. But when Judihou went out from camp on a hunt, seemingly leaving behind the Dowager Mother unguarded with his sons, his younger brothers ambushed the unexpecting conspirators, killing the Gou King and capturing his Xiongnu accomplices. Judihou quickly returned and publicly executed the other lead Xiongnu traitor and offered the arrested Han envoys a chance to submit. The lead envoy, Su Wu, refused and was exiled to tend sheep in the northern frontier near Lake Baikal and Dingling hordes. Wei Lü, on the other hand, was given full trust of the chanyu and granted the assuming title of King of the Dingling. This new Hu defector, who had never been a member of Xiongnu royalty—much less a noble of any rank in the Xiongnu regime—now served with much favor by the side of Judihou, governing affairs of the chanyu and conveying summons on his behalf.76 For the next couple of years, tensions exploded into full-scale war. Judihou retorted with great force against the Han treachery and further asserted his power as the new chanyu by launching large-scale raids into Ordos. Attacks launched by the Militant Emperor in 99 bce were complete failures. The Xiongnu easily evaded the invaders, eventually beating them back or ensnaring their armies. Alongside seized troops, the chanyu acquired prominent Han generals for his legions. To ensure the loyalty of one general who had royal Han affiliations,
Of Wolves and Sheep 143 Judihou bestowed on him the high Xiongnu rank of King of the Right and gave his own daughter for a wife to the Han general. This gesture did not signal a direct Familial Alliance with the Han imperial court but nevertheless intimated an accord with the Han ruling family, a pact that the Militant Emperor had continually refused. As the Xiongnu persisted with incursions into Han colonies, the so-called General of Osh turned back toward his earlier missions and marched into Xiongnu territory. Judihou moved his families and supplies safely north of the Tuul River, as previous chanyus had done, and situated his well-prepared armies toward the south. Yet again, generals of the Militant Emperor failed to inflict any crippling damage, and the Xiongnu chiefs, baiting their adversaries deep into the steppe, continued to either evade or trounce upon the scrambled Han legions.77 Assaults against Xiongnu holdings in the Western Regions faltered as well. In the same year that the General of Osh left the far western realms to march in pursuit of Judihou Chanyu, a king of the small western polity of Jiehe, who had defected to the Han, took up troops from Loulan. With a Han-given title to his name, he marched against the Xiongnu-affiliated kingdom of Gushi. But the Right Tuqi King sent a force of several tens of thousands of cavalry to aid the Gushi allies, and the treacherous King of Jiehe was easily repelled.78 Although the Xiongnu had lost control over some of their more distant affiliates in Central Asia, Kings of the Right were still able to defend their immediate allies in the western periphery. After Judihou Chanyu died in 97 bce, a series of internal court negotiations, albeit through a tumultuous course of some misunderstandings, eventually led to the proper establishment of his eldest son, the Left Tuqi King, as Hulugu Chanyu. Judihou’s second son was then elevated from Left Great General to Left Tuqi King, as a guarantee that, when Hulugu died, this younger brother would succeed him without dispute. However, when the younger brother died only a few years later, Hulugu appointed his own son as heir with the rank of Left Tuqi King. Hulugu then gave his disaffected nephew Xianxianchan, who could have made claims as the next chanyu, the lesser rank of Rizhu King and married him to a princess of the petty western kingdom of Wuchanmu.79 Wuchanmu hordes had submitted to the Xiongnu after heavy assaults and been moved from their original far western domain between the Wusun and Kangju eastward into Hexi territories of the Right Realms.80 These were the same lands, ravaged by war, that the Han had goaded the Wusun to take back. The ruling Xiongnu clan of Luandi sought to reinforce control over peripheral lands lost in the wars by infiltrating subordinate clans through marriage alliances and resettling them into tenable territories. Despite some flaring hostilities, Xiongnu power in the West remained resilient. The ten-year reign of Hulugu ushered in relative peace with neighboring states and continued strength in the face of Han attacks. As Xiongnu chiefs plundered
144 Xiongnu the entire southern frontier, periodic Han retaliations resulted in overextensions and depletions of their forces. In anticipation of an invasion by the General of Osh in 90 bce, the chanyu sent his camp and supplies into his northern realms, and the Left Tuqi King drove his people far past the Tuul River.81 The famous General of Osh was ambushed at night and captured by Hulugu Chanyu himself. The Han offensive ended in utter defeat, and once again a high-ranking Han general was given a daughter of the chanyu as a bride. Just as Wei Lü had been catapulted to the status of esteemed associate of the previous Judihou Chanyu, so did this Han general become the son-in-law and new favored associate of Hulugu Chanyu.82 Another marriage alliance reminiscent of the Familial Alliances was made between the Xiongnu ruler and a Han noble, with the latter in a position beneath the former. Han frontier expansions aimed at nibbling away the Xiongnu realms, but hordes of the steppe empire continually ran circles around the garrisons and plundered the surrounding lands. At one time, similar walled establishments were devised among the Xiongnu ministers to ward off further Han invasions, but no such plans were implemented—for good reason. Wei Lü had supposedly schemed on behalf of the chanyu to “dig wells and construct ramparts, [have] governing buildings using stores and grains, and together with [Han] people defend [the fortified towns].” But amid the digging of several hundred wells and felling of several thousand trees, this Chinese approach to frontier defense was abandoned. The Xiongnu relied on swift armies and mobile supplies, a strategy that had bested even the largest and deepest of Han invasions. A grid of fortresses would not only constrain the movements of otherwise mobile hordes, it would provide easily captured provisions for invading Han forces.83 Just as the Xiongnu did not require an intricate network of local bureaucrats and fixed towns to rule, so were they better suited to fend off attacks without encumbering frontier infrastructure. The resilient Xiongnu rulers maintained control over their core steppe lands and continued their boastful demands from the Han. Soon after the Xiongnu had defeated the General of Osh and absorbed the Han armies, Hulugu Chanyu released a host of captive emissaries in a gesture of peace. But these came with a blatant request for a Familial Alliance and a rejection of Han mandates. To the south is the Great Han; to the north are the Powerful Hu. The Hu are Heaven’s proud sons, and are not troubled with petty rituals [of Han propriety]. Now [I]desire to open great relations, to take a [royal] Han woman as wife, yearly be given bestowals unto me of 10,000 piculs of root wine, 5,000 pecs of millet, 40,000 bolts of silk, [so that] it is approximately like before, and thus the frontier will not be reciprocally robbed.84 The Militant Emperor returned Xiongnu captives yet refused the request for a Familial Alliance.
Of Wolves and Sheep 145 When Han delegates arrived with insults rather than tribute for the Xiongnu ruler, he placed them in captivity for the remainder of his reign. Hulugu Chanyu would pay no respects to an antagonistic regime or its agents. So when the court shaman pronounced that the spirit of the deceased Judihou Chanyu was angered because blessings from their gods for victory against the Han had not been reciprocated with appropriate offerings, a grand sacrifice of a high-ranking lord of the Xiongnu was declared. The recently submitted General of Osh had become a Xiongnu lord and thus could be sacrificed to appease the Xiongnu gods. By Han accounts, this enraged Heaven and caused storms of “rain and snow for several months; livestock and products perished, people suffered from disease, grains and crops did not ripen.”85 Yet the steppe empire did not falter. Beneath this persistently strong nomadic regime of Great Chiefs, however, a different sort of storm was brewing. Non-royal provincial chiefs increasingly rose in prominence. It would not be wars or winters that would deliver the most crippling crises, but rather a host of ambitious hordes within the thriving empire that would undo the authority and power of the ruling noble nomads. Five Baits for the Nomads The Xiongnu knew well that the weakness of Han forces was their leaders: “When one wolf is lost, the thousand sheep scatter.”86 By capturing Han generals, especially if they were given a royal Xiongnu bride or elevated title, the Xiongnu could halt entire armies and scatter the enemy forces. This strategy was attempted as well by the Han when dealing with the Xiongnu. If they could capture or at least “entangle the chanyu” with material bribes, then they could bring down the whole empire.87 But attempts to hunt down the chanyu failed, and the militia of any captured chiefs usually charged on with new leadership. Even when Yichixia Chanyu had seemingly been killed by a swift Han attack, the hydra body of Great Chiefs quickly reared a new head and easily routed the Han invaders. In much the same way that Han military strikes did not account for the resilience of the collective of Xiongnu forces, the ineptness of the Familial Alliance strategies by the Han lay in the failure of their court advisors to understand the heterarchical character of Xiongnu rule and the cooperative relationships between ruling chanyus and their various chiefs.88 Han gifts of Chinese goods to the chanyus did not prompt these steppe rulers and all their subjects to embrace Han society. The “Chiefs of Felt and Fur” donned steppe-themed ornaments and fine woolen clothing.89 Silk cloth and grains from the south were merely foreign augmentations to a local pastoral-based political economy and steppe-oriented culture. Rather than creating a trickle-down effect of Sinicization and a crippling dependency on Han goods, tribute provisions of the treaties with the Xiongnu court functioned as yet another revenue source that bolstered the wealth surplus of the ruling clans for redistribution. Han gifts to the chanyu strengthened, not weakened, the Xiongnu Empire.90
146 Xiongnu Only the proposed strategy of “baits” for the provincial chiefs seems to have understood the Xiongnu political structure and its weak points. Instead of a top- down approach that showered the chanyu with gifts, as if to control the lesser steppe lords through their ruler, the alternative Five Baits policy sought to undermine the Xiongnu empire from the bottom up with gifts directly to subordinate chiefs—to “use the chanyu’s contention with his people to cause the Xiongnu to descend as if arousing rottenness.”91 It would be more effective to fan the fires of dissent among provincial chiefs, such as those who had submitted to the Han in the course of invasions into Hexi and elsewhere. If the Han could cause breakdowns in Xiongnu peripheral realms and political substrata without military expenditure, then perhaps they could undermine the steppe regime. Bestow on them magnificently dressed chariots and mounts in order to appease their eyes. Bestow on them sumptuous foods and rich delicacies to appease their mouths. Bestow on them music and women to appease their ears. Bestow on them high halls and immense houses, treasuries and storehouses, and male and female servants to appease their bellies. . . [then] they are amused and entertained, and kinsmen pour [drinks] and personally feed them in order to appease their hearts. These are the Five Baits.92 Traditional assessments view the Five Baits as a strategy equivalent to the Familial Alliance that would corrupt and hence control the Xiongnu through an addiction to items of specifically Han material culture.93 But the original proposal did not recommend Chinese goods to serve as sugar-coated bullets from a superior society; rather, it was designed to bait the nomads with materials that appealed to their own steppe tastes and needs.94 The first bait called for lavish trappings associated with touring the domains, a way for provincial chiefs to be esteemed by all Hu households as they went about. Senior families were to be given elaborate embroidered clothing and lesser families decorated multicolored clothing.95 With such gifts, local leaders could visit their constituents in the same ostentatious fashions as the chanyus. Whereas standard Xiongnu vehicles were “without silver, gold, threads or lacquer ornamentation, simple [so as] to be practical and strong,” the Han could bestow upon lesser chiefs the kinds of vehicles and entourages that only the chanyus had— silver-ornamented horse chariots with detailed carvings and decorated coverings, led by imperial outriders and followed by teams of cavalry (Figure 5.3). The second bait consisted of all manner of meats—flavorful minced meat, boiled and roasted meat, hashed and pickled meat pieces. While gifts of Familial Alliance treaties included grain, this strategy catered more to the preferences of people who, “from the kings and lords on down, all subsist on the meat of livestock, wear their skins and hides, and cover in felt and fur.” With such foods could chiefs host extravagant feasts, in accordance with steppe traditions of ample
Of Wolves and Sheep 147
Figure 5.3 Xiongnu rock carving of chariot with accompanying mounted warriors and tamga markings. Yamaan Us, Mongolia. Photo by Tsagaan Törbat.
portions of meat cooked in large cauldrons and with several hundred people at their side “laughing and eating.”96 Third was the gift of servant women “painted white and inked black” and dressed in embroidered garments to wait on them in their halls, feed them, and perform in their Hu plays. If we take the phrase of “inking” a person to mean they were tattooed, as it is in other Chinese accounts, then the performers could have borne tattoos like those among the Xiongnu who were granted audience with the chanyu. Along with these servants were sent official musical instruments, for some to play the lute and beat the hand drums while others would dance and skip about. These ostentatious gifts would complement the meaty baits when lesser chiefs sought to host extravagant feasts. The fourth bait would further feed the ambitions of chiefs through the bestowal of “high halls with profound eaves, consummate cooking places, great [grain] stores and [storage] pits, stables with braided horses, ports with war chariots, male and female slaves, and various young livestock and pastoral products.” A handful of enclosed structures with buildings bearing tiled roofs and decorated
148 Xiongnu eave tiles have been found within the steppe realms of the Xiongnu, but these rare structures served as social and ritual nexus only for the ruling Great Chiefs.97 Any monumental residence for hordes in the provinces with such cosmopolitan architecture as decorated eaves would have announced an outward challenge to the chanyus.98 A handful of sites like Bayan-Under and Zaan-Khoshuu exhibit small elite house complexes with enclosing walls, but these do not exhibit any prominent tiled roof or other feature emulating Chinese architecture.99 The principle of the Five Baits strategy was to provide aspiring provincial chiefs with the material means to proclaim equal power with the Great Chiefs and thereby upend the hierarchical system that bound the empire together. The proposed Han gifts, which accorded with steppe cultural norms of prestige, would boost the capabilities of lesser leaders to entice and feed a constituency of their own. Emboldened chiefs could “send [out] payments of alcohol and coins, and embroidered clothing and belt ornaments in excess . . . [since] Hu nobles make consents [for pacts] with alcohol, and [give] out garments and clothing ornamented and sashed” to loyal subordinates. “When all these gifts have been bestowed on Xiongnu lords, they possess the ability to host guests, hold feasts and distribute wealth and thereby assemble powerful and military men about them.” By seeking to undermine the system of wealth redistribution, such a diplomatic strategy could strike at the heart of Xiongnu interior politics. During the course of wars with the Han Empire and Central Asian kingdoms, tensions among the chiefs of the empire had been limited to members of the few imperial clans. Contentions for the chanyu seat of power remained within the Luandi lineage. Losses of provincial chiefs impaired control over certain regions but did not undermine Xiongnu imperial sovereignty. But, in 85 bce, after the accession of Hulugu Chanyu’s very young son instead of one of his seasoned brothers, interior court politics spilled over into the provinces and peripheral clans. The dejected Left Tuqi and Right Luli kings, uncles of the new Huyandi Chanyu, sought support for their own claims. And this support came not from other royal kings, as had happened before, but from foreign kingdoms. They unsuccessfully attempted to submit to the Han and, in the end, made gestures toward the newly independent kingdom of the Wusun to garner support. Their efforts failed and they withdrew to their local domains. When tensions at court resurged after Huyandi’s death seventeen years later, rising peripheral kings were drawn further into court conflicts. These secondary participants in the game of sovereignty became major players in the bids for supreme power. Centralized authority quickly unraveled.100 Other Kings and Other Kingdoms The Xiongnu political system comprised far more chiefs and officials than those recounted in the official Han accounts.101 Ranks like jiruo, yizhizi, and husulei
Of Wolves and Sheep 149 receive scant mentions within the historical records, yet they betray political substrata of far greater intricacies than the seemingly simple ruling assembly of Twenty-Four Great Chiefs and their attendants.102 There was a clear distinction between the handful of “noble clans” of the state, who held exclusive rights to the grand titles of imperial kings and generals, and the various other “great clans” that occupied the vast regions of the empire.103 But the “lesser subordinate kings” and their constituent “other” clans played increasingly important roles in the course of the Xiongnu dynasty.104 The Left and Right Kings, or Great Chiefs, at the heart of the imperial nobility shared the steppe empire with a host of other “kings”—chiefs of prominent provincial lineages under the broad ascription of “name kings.” These leaders constituted a larger assembly of lords “of great renown” who were outside of the core nobility but also “distinct from the various small kings” who served directly under the Great Chiefs.105 They were not part of the official administrative network controlled directly by the ruling Luandi clan but still helped manage the growing empire, “taking on duties, receiving given mandates, and carrying out duties” of the regime.106 “Name kings” most often stemmed from the body of regional leaders subjugated in the course of conquests; those who were “brought together” under the reins of the expanding Xiongnu regime yet retained their autonomy and territory. While some were wiped out, others were allowed to remain as regional powers. Only a couple, like the Xubu, rose to be incorporated within the imperial nobility as a consort lineage that aided in judiciary functions for the imperial nobles.107 Such incremental inclusions could be accommodated as the empire expanded, but the rapidly growing regime may have become oversaturated from surges of incorporations into its restricted ranks. Rising lineage groups, or even rising individual leaders, given enough traction, could incite acute challenges to the exclusive authority of the ruling Luandi clan. As Han armies pushed into Xiongnu provinces during the late second century bce, they ensnared a host of “name kings.” Groups like the Loufan and Boyang of Ordos, who had been subjugated in the late third century bce, resurfaced generations later as intact hordes within the same areas during skirmishes between the Han and Xiongnu empires.108 In the eastern realms, several name kings came to the fore as they were exposed to direct Han assaults. In the western lands of Hexi, over a dozen kings faltered in the wake of Han advances, including kings like Hunye whose tens of thousands of households were on par with Kings of the Left and Right.109 During the early Xiongnu reigns, only direct agents of the chanyu, including juqu and danghu officials as well as Left and Right Kings, led tribute missions to the Han.110 When the chanyu himself did not command the armies, only the kings and generals of imperial clans were entrusted to lead large invasions or punitive attacks. In the initial years of Huyandi Chanyu, however, the provincial
150 Xiongnu King of Liwu led invasions into Hexi alongside the Right Tuqi King, not so much to gain victories for the Xiongnu rulers but mostly to regain his own lands lost in wars with the Han.111 As conflicts amid ruling factions of the Xiongnu began to boil over during the mid-first century bce, non-royal “name kings” wedged their way further into prominent positions independent of the imperial hierarchy. The Great Chiefs were no longer the only ones leading large campaigns or conducting major diplomatic missions on behalf of the ruling dynasty. Soon after Xulüquanqu Chanyu took power in 68 bce, he called upon the Kangju kings of Yujian to lead an offensive against the Han in the Turpan oasis. The Central Asian army of over ten thousand cavalry was joined by a Left Grand General of the Xiongnu, a direct representative of the chanyu’s interests, and attacked the fields of Jushi city. But there was no victory. In the aftermath of this and other military failures, the chanyu sent a delegation to request a Familial Alliance with the Han. Yet his representative was not a royal Great Chief but a provincial leader, the King of Ti.112 The chanyus had begun to promote leaders of lesser lineages in order to build more loyal entourages of noble nomads. But with each new chanyu, rather than replacing some of the high dignitaries, the core entourage was completely overhauled, causing detrimental disorder at the uppermost levels of the regime. After Woyanqudi Chanyu took over in 60 bce, the King of Hesu, who had been a close affiliate of the previous chanyu, was ousted in favor of the King of Yicuorou in the west. He was a younger brother of Woyanqudi, who himself had questionable royal heritage, and became the most trusted aide of the new chanyu even while retaining his non-royal title.113 Each of these chanyus ushered in an entirely new imperial regime, and their tumultuous reigns turned increasingly to non-royal provincial clans for support. At the same time, name kings in the outlying peripheries became more aggressive in their independence. The Han-supported King of Yiqu, having killed the King of Liwu on his incursions back into Hexi, seized more territory for his autonomous state, growing increasingly more independent from both the Xiongnu and the Han.114 Siding with protests of some Left and Right Kings against Huyandi Chanyu, the King of Lutu moved not southward to submit to the Han but westward to gain support from the Wusun. Unrest at the fringes persisted, and more of the distant groups under Xiongnu reins began to raise arms against the chanyu. Wuhuan groups in the east had grown strong and, in the winter of 78 bce, invaded Xiongnu territory. Amid raids, they desecrated the tomb of a previous chanyu, ostensibly in retaliation for the onslaughts of Modun that had butchered their ancestors. The Xiongnu responded with thousands of cavalry that demolished the rebellious eastern hordes, and Han armies took advantage, cutting down thousands and beheading several Wuhuan kings.115 But the seeds of revolt among steppe hordes grew, inciting more tribute-paying kingdoms along
Of Wolves and Sheep 151 the periphery of the empire to challenge the Luandi clan and its assertion of imperial dominance. One of the most prominent kingdoms to revolt was, yet again, the Wusun. In addition to capturing peripheral Wusun lands, Huyandi Chanyu had demanded the Han wife of the Kunmo to be handed over as a bride of the Xiongnu rulers. Such a maneuver would have reaffirmed a Wusun subordinate status to the Xiongnu regime and indirectly recreated a Familial Alliance between the Han and Xiongnu courts. Then, in 72 bce, after years of sending requests to the Han for support against the Xiongnu, Emperor Zhao dispatched a massive army with swift chariots and ample supply wagons to aid the Wusun. Wengguimi, the “Fat” Kunmo, then marched out with half of his personal crack troops alongside numerous Yabgu Lords and legions of cavalry on a parallel invasion of Xiongnu lands. Several frontier commanders of the Xiongnu, including those garrisoned in the Western Regions domains of Pulei and Qilian, defected to join in the assaults, capturing provincial kings and Xiongnu royal dignitaries as well as thousands of horses, cattle, and sheep. Although Huyandi Chanyu mostly evaded the Han armies, the Right Luli King and his entourage were besieged by the Fat Kunmo. The Wusun ruler captured the chanyu’s father-in-law, sister-in-law, and primary princess, as well as high- ranking Chiefs of Thousands and name kings who were residing at the camp of the imperial king. He then returned to his distant domain north of the Tian Shan with over forty thousand people and more than seven hundred thousand heads of horses, cattle, sheep, mules, and camels. The Fat Kunmo had humiliated the Xiongnu nobility and asserted his kingdom as equal. Amid massive losses for Xiongnu Kings of the Right and colossal failures of the Han, the Wusun were rapidly becoming the dominant power in the Western Regions.116 At the outset of winter in 71 bce, Huyandi Chanyu himself led a force of ten thousand cavalry to counter the Wusun assault, aiming to take back his lost people. But great snows descended, piling deeper and deeper by the day, and his men and animals froze to death. This series of disastrous losses weakened the regime and opened it to simultaneous attacks from all fronts. Dingling kings took advantage and attacked from the north, while Wuhuan armies invaded the eastern realms and the Wusun again attacked the western frontier. The Han eventually joined as well, though with only a small army. Xiongnu losses were said to have reached almost a hundred thousand people and horses in addition to copious amounts of cattle and sheep. The death toll rose even higher during the winter, with starvation supposedly claiming a third of the population and half of the livestock. Han officials reported that “the Xiongnu became greatly feeble and weak, and the various states which had been bridled all broke apart [like falling] roof tiles; [under] attacking and robbing, [the provinces] could not
152 Xiongnu be regulated.” By the time Huyandi’s son was established as Xulüquanqu Chanyu in 68 bce, the empire was in crisis.117 Xulüquanqu scrambled, replacing some of those favored families and wives of his father with new ones in maneuvers even more upsetting than his predecessors. At first, he sent the provincial King of Huluzi under the pretense of going south to hunt in order to meet up with each of his generals. But a handful of rogue cavalry surrendered to the Han and betrayed the chanyu’s real plans to launch an assault. The Xiongnu nobles were unable to conduct raids for critical supplies, and the chanyu’s request for a renewal of the Familial Alliance was refused. As surpluses waned, the ruling chiefs were less capable of alleviating the stresses of bad winters or other calamities that might occur in the steppe, and Han accounts took note of apparent food shortages in the Xiongnu realms during these years. It was under such circumstances that the clan of West Ru, which the Xiongnu had previously conquered, drove their livestock and households out of the Left Realms and battled though the domains of others, further enduring heavy losses, in order to submit to the Han for relief.118 Soon after, tribute states in the west also rebelled. Under the previous chanyu Huyandi, the Xiongnu had reasserted control over the western kingdom of Gushi, with cavalry tending to their fields and combined Gushi-Xiongnu armies raiding the Wusun frontier. The Xiongnu strengthened their grip on Gushi by establishing a new king loyal to them and giving him a Xiongnu princess. However, a year after Xulüquanqu became chanyu, small states of the Western Regions banded together to siege the Xiongnu-controlled city of Jiaohe. Han laborers and troops garrisoned in the region joined the assault and helped lay siege to the city. The King of Gushi, newly freed from Xiongnu control, then seized the frontier kingdom of Pulei. He brought the head of their chief and numerous captured people to submit to Han forces stationed at Jiaohe. Although the Xiongnu still managed to control many of the northern routes toward Central Asia, the pivotal city and its oasis was wrested free. In an attempt to counter Han inroads into Western Regions politics, the chanyu elevated the last remaining brother of the Gushi rulers in order to establish a splinter kingdom northeast beyond the mountains around the Turpan Basin. Fearing Xiongnu retaliation, the remaining King of Gushi fled Jiaohe to submit to the Wusun, leaving the city to the Han. The Great Chiefs tried several times to regain Turpan, once even surrounding Jiaohe. Yet legions of both the Han and Wusun had significantly infiltrated the Western Regions, forcing the Xiongnu to overextend their armies in a series of unsuccessful western campaigns and leaving other frontiers relatively unprotected.119 In 63 bce, Dingling armies plundered northern Xiongnu lands, killing or capturing thousands of people and making off with large herds of horses and livestock. The Xiongnu were again unable to retrieve their losses.120
Of Wolves and Sheep 153 As tributary states in the far west broke away and northern realms came under siege, allied groups in the far south were soon cut off. The Hexi Corridor and its flanking territories were crumbling away from the Xiongnu. Between 63 and 61 bce, conflicts over grazing grounds between Han colonies and Qiang herders south of the Qilian Mountains erupted in failed uprisings. The resulting Han suppressions did more than quell local Qiang chiefs; they severed Xiongnu ties with Qiang affiliates.121 Then, in a last ditch effort to retain control over their southern realms, Xulüquanqu Chanyu led a large force of over a hundred thousand cavalry to “hunt” beside the Han fortifications. Yet again, one of his men defected and alerted the Han to his schemes to retake whole territories. Hundreds of thousands of Han cavalry were dispatched all across the frontier. Several months later, Xulüquanqu fell ill, spitting up blood, and had to halt his plans. He again tried sending the provincial King of Ti to enter the Han court and again request a Familial Alliance, but it was rejected. The chanyu died in 60 bce with no treaties to secure peripheral realms of the empire and with greatly diminished forces spread too thinly to protect the weakened borders.122 Culling the Herds When Xulüquanqu died, it was the non-royal provincial King of Hesu who summoned the royal Great Chiefs to gather for the next chanyu selection. With the support of the Left Great Juqu and a disaffected empress of the previous chanyu, the Right Tuqi King quickly asserted himself as the next ruler, Woyanqudi Chanyu. He was allegedly the descendant of Wuwei Chanyu, but six generations removed, and therefore far from the standard of adjacent linear and lateral successions to immediate sons, brothers, or even uncles that had occurred thus far. Regardless of the details surrounding the intrigue of his assertion, the narrative at least imparts the significant rift between members of the noble lineages created by the dismissal of any close kin of the deceased chanyu in favor of a questionably distant relative.123 This meant that the son of Xulüquanqu, Jihoushan, was not established and instead fled to his wife’s father, the King of Wuchanmu in Hexi, for support. This was the same group over which Xianxianchan, the rejected potential heir of Hulugu Chanyu, had been appointed as Chief and Rizhu King. But when the recently rejected son Jihoushan arrived in the southwestern province, the previously rejected Xianxianchan led a large number of people out of Hexi to submit to the Han.124 To impede any local support for Jihoushan, Woyanqudi Chanyu quickly replaced Xianxianchan with his own older cousin as the new Rizhu King. He then executed the two younger brothers of the defected lord Xianxianchan, further angering the remaining Wuchanmu chiefs who controlled Hexi realms.125 In full recognition of his problematic lineage ties to the title of chanyu, Woyanqudi set about eliminating all possible claimants. He ousted every son and
154 Xiongnu brother of Xulüquanqu and refilled all the royal ranks of Great Chiefs with his own sons and immediate younger brothers who, like him, had dubious claims of noble lineage. He also wiped out the entire royal entourage, killing off all nobles affiliated with Xulüquanqu’s reign. In their stead, he raised up lesser chiefs, like the brother of the conspiratory empress dowager who had helped establish him. Woyanqudi even attempted to revive the Familial Alliance by sending the provincial King of Yicuorou, his younger brother, to the Han court with gifts for an audience with Emperor Xuan.126 The entire political network of imperial chiefs and administrators was overhauled in the blink of an eye, flushed of all affiliates of the previous reigning families. The new reign drew upon distant non-royal elites and was more entwined with provincial hordes like the Yicuorou. While the replacement of some associates, or even the execution of a few contentious royal family members, may have at times been tolerated in previous ruler transitions, the broad-scale elimination of whole generations of imperial families of the Great Chiefs created an immediate crisis during already contentious times. The desire to completely refill the ranks of the empire spread into the lower levels of provincial kings and the ranks of distant allies. When the Yujian King of the Left died, Woyanqudi attempted to rein in more direct control over Central Asian realms by establishing his own son as the new Yujian King and proposing that he stay in residence at the chanyu’s camp. The distant nobles of Yujian rejected this move by placing the proper son of the previous Yujian King as the successor. They then supposedly moved east, toward the security of the Tian Shan slopes. Woyanqudi sent his Right Assistant Minister after them with a punitive force of cavalry, but this entire army was defeated. As his belligerence and bloodshed continued, control over his domains quickly unraveled. After only two years, the new chanyu faced rebellions accompanied by the returning son of Xulüquanqu, Jihoushan.127 In 58 bce, Wuhuan groups again made attacks against Xiongnu eastern lands, capturing a mass of people from the King of Guxi. Fearing the wrath of the chanyu, the provincial king joined with other nobles of the Left Realms who had already been subjected to slander from the new Great Chiefs loyal to Woyanqudi. This collection of peripheral leaders in the east in turn allied with Wuchanmu hordes in the southwest and together raised up the disaffected son of Xulüquanqu Chanyu who had fled to Hexi. A gathering of solely non-royal chiefs established the royal son Jihoushan as Huhanye Chanyu. This Left Realms consortium then marched forth with tens of thousands of men to attack Woyanqudi who had camped south of the Khangai Mountains. The armies of Woyanqudi Chanyu fled in defeat, and he sent for help from his own brother the Right Tuqi King. But the request was summarily denied, citing the tyrannical butchery of brothers and noblemen who had served the previous chanyu Xulüquanqu. The stranded Woyanqudi committed suicide, and a number
Of Wolves and Sheep 155 of his recently appointed Great Chiefs scurried with their people to submit to the new Huhanye Chanyu.128 Given the contentious relationship with Woyanqudi, hordes at the fringes of Xiongnu influence, such as the Yujian of Central Asia, defied any attempts by the new chanyu to interfere with their own ranks. Other hordes, like the Guxi and Wuchanmu, offered significant support to a competing claimant. Amid the upheaval that followed the defeat of Woyanqudi, such provincial “name kings” provided support not only for royal claimants: they also began to make claims of their own. This heralded an unprecedented crisis for the ruling imperial clans. Peripheral leaders and their lineages “of great name” had thrived as the empire grew, maintaining their regional affiliations and identities beneath the overarching structure of imperial chiefs and the supraregional political order. Over the course of the early to mid-first century bce, they took charge of the most important diplomatic operations and military campaigns for the chanyus. Chiefs outside the select imperial clans were increasingly accommodated and favored for imperial dignitary positions, and they asserted their power at the expense of the core ruling factions. The long-reigning noble clans of the Xiongnu regime had been culled by their subordinates. Large neighboring states like the Han, Wusun, and Wuhuan had certainly tested the strength of Xiongnu dominance abroad. However, it was the multitude of provincial kings, within the empire yet outside the royal clans, who sparked the most crippling crises. When coupled with crumbling frontiers and assaults from outside kingdoms, these “other kings” catapulted the empire into civil war. The Five Chanyus The short reign of Woyanqudi Chanyu was recounted as one of “tyranny and brutality, and [those] within the state did not adhere.”129 The resulting revolt against him raised a direct member of the royal Luandi clan in his place, but the process of that coup, and the host of peripheral tribes that rallied in support of the new chanyu, opened the door to ambitious non-royal kings and their hordes. Huhanye took over the chanyu court in 58 bce, sending troops back to their homelands. He then raised up his older brother Hutuwusi, bringing him out of exile from the general populace, to take the eminent title of Left Luli King. As he reasserted direct members of the royal family back into the ranks of Great Chiefs, he commanded the death or expulsion of dubious chiefs like the Right Tuqi King who had been established by the treacherous Woyanqudi.130 But, by winter, the ousted Tuqi King and other scorned chiefs of the Right raised a remnant Rizhu King, an older cousin of Woyanqudi, to be a contending chanyu called Tuqi—The Wise. The same cohorts who had placed Woyanqudi in power returned to make a second bid with their Wise Chanyu. They launched a massive army eastward back into the core Xiongnu realms, and a swiftly defeated Huhanye fled to the Left Realms that had originally supported him.
156 Xiongnu The new claimant from the west took up residence at the chanyu court and placed his two sons as the new Left and Right Luli Kings. It is unknown how close to the main royal line, if at all, the pretender chanyu was, but as a cousin of the supposed great grandson of a long-ago previous chanyu, he would be even further removed from the royal pool of sons, brothers, and uncles eligible for the position of chanyu. He claimed ties to the royal Luandi clan but his assertion, clearly from well outside the royal lineage or any of its affiliate noble lineages, soon shook his delicate legitimacy. While the so-called Wise Chanyu built armies in 57 bce to prepare for an eastern attack against Huhanye and the Left Kings, yet another cohort of conspirators from the west, including a lowly Danghu lord of the peripheral King of Weili, slandered the new Right Tuqi King, saying that he planned to set himself up as chanyu with the reign name Wujie. Soon after the Wise Chanyu had killed the Right Tuqi King, along with his father and sons, he discovered the conspirators’ deceit and had the Weili Danghu executed as well. Their plot failed, but it was led by a lower official of a peripheral non-royal group, again signaling the growing power of subordinate chiefs from “other” clans. The second conspirator, King of Hujie, fled in fear and proclaimed himself Hujie Chanyu. The Hujie had been a powerful consortium in the Altai realms of hordes that had suffered great defeat by Modun during the early Xiongnu conquests. Although demolished and forced into submission, chiefs of the Hujie had clearly retained some degree of autonomy beneath the Xiongnu regime. Soon after this king of remnant Hujie hordes claimed to be supreme ruler of the steppe empire, the Right Yujian King, even further west in Central Asia, established himself as Juli Chanyu. Then, a Danghu lord of the Wujie followed suit and proclaimed himself Wujie Chanyu. Crises entangling the core ruling groups with provincial kings had incited a political feeding frenzy far and wide. Various kings simultaneously established themselves, splintering into five chanyus, attacking one other, the dead [numbering] more than several tens of thousands, the livestock perishing eighty to ninety percent, the people starving, burning one another’s food stores; thus great opposition and chaos [ensued].131 Regardless of any possible exaggerations by Han chroniclers, the circumstances were certainly grim for the ruling Luandi clan and its regime. Five ambitious chiefs based in outlying regions of the empire simultaneously claimed to hold the title of supreme ruler over all of Inner Asia. Three of them were not from the royal clan, and one of them had held the relatively low position of danghu official for a provincial king. Over the course of several skirmishes with the Wise Chanyu, the Hujie and Wujie claimants rescinded their chanyu titles and joined forces with the Yujian claimant, Juli Chanyu, who sat perched at the edge of the Western Regions. These
Of Wolves and Sheep 157 combined armies based in the west were soon thwarted by the Wise Chanyu. But they had created enough of a preoccupation for him to then be defeated by Huhanye from the east. The entire army of the Wise Chanyu was killed or captured by Huhanye’s forces and he committed suicide. The presumptuous Yujian King then rescinded his claim as Juli Chanyu and submitted to the victorious Huhanye. In 56 bce, the remaining supporters of the long-deceased Woyanqudi at last fled south to submit to the Han and never returned. Yet many of Huhanye’s own chiefs also began to flee south.132 Among the more prominent of the defectors was the Left Grand General, a chief from the provincial Husulei clan who joined his father in his journey to the Han. The father went south with several tens of thousands of people to submit and assert his claim as yet another chanyu. Numerous sons, grandsons, brothers, and even a wife of Huhanye Chanyu accompanied them, as did subordinate officials of the Right Kings and a host of other name kings. This self-proclaimed Husulei Chanyu was given lordly title and households but was a subdued servant of the Han regime.133 The defection of such a large contingent of Huhanye’s own chiefs and officials suggests continued strife in the steppe. Soon, more claimants to the chanyu title rose up. When the previously silenced Wujie Chanyu in the west reasserted his claim, Huhanye Chanyu quickly had him beheaded. Then, a distant cousin of Huhanye, the provincial King of Xiuxun, attacked Huhanye’s Left Great Juqu and went west to set himself up as Runzhen Chanyu. In the following year, the older brother whom Huhanye had promoted as the Left Luli King also made a claim, as Zhizhi Chanyu. Simultaneous competing claims had not died down. When Runzhen Chanyu marched out from his western power base to quell the new Zhizhi Chanyu in 54 bce, he was defeated and killed. The victorious Zhizhi then turned on Huhanye, ousting his younger brother from the chanyu court.134 The exact course of the next several years is unknown, but the ensuing conflicts between the competing royal brothers sent more of Huhanye’s supporters south to the Han Empire. As if following the lead of his previous chiefs and affiliate kings who now resided in the southern borderlands, Huhanye began to make gestures toward the Han Emperor Xuan for support against Zhizhi. First, he sent one younger brother, his Left Luli King, to visit the Han court in 54 bce. The next year his son, the Right Tuqi King, went as a hostage to the Han court. By the end of the year, another younger brother, his Left Tuqi King, went to pay respects at the Han court.135 By 51 bce, the stage had been set and Huhanye himself came south, seemingly to submit to Emperor Xuan.136 From the flow of disaffected Xiongnu nobles who had gone south to submit at the Han frontier, none had returned, and there was no reason to assume Huhanye would be any different. Deeming him a defeated adversary, Zhizhi Chanyu sent one of his sons, his Right Grand General, as a hostage to the Han court in order to trump his younger brother’s actions and garner sole favor from the Han
158 Xiongnu emperor.137 With the core grasslands of the steppe empire in his control, Zhizhi then turned his attention westward. Years of civil war had given way to the splintering off of some of the most powerful western kingdoms. Xiongnu supremacy in peripheral lands had unraveled ever since the coup of Woyanqudi had ousted the royal families of Great Chiefs. As these established arms of the Xiongnu Empire were severed, so were deep political connections and authority of the regime in the Western Regions stripped away. Kingdoms like Gushi had lost their support from, and hence their loyalty to, the Xiongnu overlords. The Rizhu King who was charged with overseeing the Turpan Basin and other areas of the western periphery defected to the Han and widened the power vacuum. As a result, the Servant Commandant of the Rizhu King, who had been charged with extracting and managing tribute from the Western Regions, was greatly weakened at his distant center in the Yanqi Basin. In an effort to depose this long-standing Xiongnu enclave, the Han formally established their own enclave in 60 bce, presumptuously titled Protectorate of the Western Regions. The Protectorate took over the entire kingdom of Wulei, absorbing an established local power just west of the rival Xiongnu enclave in Yanqi. It was an ideal axis for controlling western trade routes and kingdoms. When the East Pulei King abandoned the Xiongnu, the Protectorate sent him to the lands of a chief affiliated with remnant Gushi kings residing north of Turpan among the Tian Shan foothills. The aim was to intrude upon any groups in the northern Western Regions who were still loyal to the Xiongnu. The emboldened Han even defeated far western kingdoms like Shaju that were loyal to the Wusun. Han seemed to be the new hegemonic power in the West.138 In 49 bce, after years of waning Xiongnu power in the peripheral realms, yet another chanyu claimant emerged. The younger brother of the long-defeated Wise Chanyu, who had fled to the far western frontier, asserted himself as Yilimu Chanyu. To prevent any disintegration of Xiongnu domains, Zhizhi ventured west to pacify the rebellion of the Right, defeating and killing Yilimu. In further efforts to reconstitute the west, he sent an emissary to the Wusun to affirm his legitimacy as ruler of the Xiongnu Empire and hegemon over Central Asia. But the Kunmo decapitated the Xiongnu emissary and sent his head to the Han. Zhizhi responded with force, crushing the Wusun and drawing himself further into geopolitics of the west. He summarily defeated the Dingling chiefs, who had been escalating their attacks on the northern frontier, and subjugated the Gekun hordes that still flourished in the northwest. Bringing these three powerful peripheral kingdoms again under Xiongnu reins, Zhizhi then set up a new court of the chanyu in the Yenesei heartland of the Gekun. From there he pressed his authority eastward as far as the central Xiongnu realms of the Mongolian grasslands and southward as far as Gushi lands of the Tian Shan.139
Of Wolves and Sheep 159 In the midst of a log-house town at Abakan along the Middle Yenesei River, a palace of unprecedented size and luxury was erected that drew from the Chinese and West Asian vocabulary of royal prestige. The main building bore Han-style monster-face bronze door ornaments cast of bronze and tiled roofs bearing eaves with Chinese declarations of “[May] the Son of Heaven [Live for] Ten Thousand Years!” While the words were rendered in Chinese, they were likely phrases borrowed to praise a steppe ruler, in the same manner as eave tiles at the Xiongnu palace along the Orkhon River that glorified “The Chanyu, The Son of Heaven.” This monumental complex of conspicuous and cosmopolitan architecture at Abakan demonstrates the presence of a formidable “Son of Heaven” ruler who sought to pronounce continental-scale authority on par with the Han emperors and Xiongnu chanyus.140 The forest steppe lands of the Gekun had long been a thriving realm, producing their own badges of Xiongnu elite status while maintaining most of their own ritual practices and cultural traditions.141 It is thus no surprise that Zhizhi chose the Yenesei as a new nexus for the Xiongnu Empire. The nearby northern Altai had been the center of a powerful Inner Asian kingdom before the conquests of Modun, and its remnant networks quickly gave the aspiring new chanyu the means to conduct trade and diplomacy with distant powers of China and Persia. The new center presented a radical yet rational shift for the “mobile state” regime of the Xiongnu. From here, Zhizhi was far beyond the reach of the Han regime and its ally Huhanye, but he could still exert control over the Mongolian pastures as well as the rich routes and kingdoms of Central Asia. But, within a few years, Zhizhi would shift his center yet again, drawn further west by conflicts between the Kangju and Wusun, and into the heart of Central Asia where his regime would grow even stronger. Loss of control over the Wusun and Kangju had meant a loss of control over Central Asia for the Xiongnu based in the Mongolian steppe. Instead of sending tribute to the chanyus, kings of the Wusun traveled to Chang’an, and emissaries of the Yujian and Suxie kings of the Kangju brought gifts of camels to governors of the Han garrison in Hexi. Even kings of the Yuzhi, Jingjue, and Shanshan states along the southern routes of the Taklamakan Desert frequented the line of Han garrisons toward Chang’an. And all of these Central Asian dignitaries were housed and well fed in stations of the Han network reaching into the Western Regions. They were given meals of millet, rice, meat, and alcohol.142 The kings of Kangju and lords of Wusun had long remained staunchly independent in the face of both Han and Xiongnu strategies of dominance, even as they were engulfed in bitter conflicts against one another. But once Zhizhi had subdued Wusun contingents in the process of his move to the northwest, the Kangju were anxious to send a delegation to him while he resided in Gekun domains. They invited the chanyu to join forces against the whole of the Wusun kingdom and to reside instead within their eastern territories in the Kazakh
160 Xiongnu steppe. Zhizhi readily made a pact with the Kangju and marched further west with his hordes. On the long winter journey southward over the Altai and westward along the Tian Shan, many of the Xiongnu militia froze to death. Nevertheless, the Kangju nobles welcomed the chanyu and his diminished forces at their eastern frontier and bestowed on him thousands of camels, mules, and horses.143 Regardless of losses, the reputation of the Xiongnu ruler and his regime had remained strong. Zhizhi entered into a marriage alliance with the Kangju, each ruler marrying a daughter of the other. Then, drawing on the threat of their new Xiongnu ally, the Kangju began to coerce surrounding Central Asian kingdoms. Zhizhi led a large combined force that invaded Wusun lands as far as Chigu, the city loyal to the Han, killing and capturing people and driving off with livestock. No retaliation came from the Wusun, and they emptied their western frontiers bordering the Kangju realms. Zhizhi moved in and established another capital between Lake Balkhash and the Tian Shan peaks, in lands that had long before been ruled by Saka kings. The Kangju later followed on the wake of this expansion across Wusun domains to their east, seizing lands northward at the expense of so-called Tents People in the grasslands beyond Syr Darya and founding their own new city therein.144 But what had begun as Kangju designs for triumph over all other Central Asian kingdoms was quickly absconded as the beginnings of a renewed Xiongnu Empire seated in the heart of Eurasia.145 Much as Modun had once done in Inner Asia, Zhizhi drove his authority through the courses of existing networks and at the expense of local kingdoms. He bullied Wusun and Yuan lords into submission, plundering their noble tombs. In these endeavors he was seen as insolent and lacking respect for the rites of the Kangju kings with whom he was allied. And then he began killing many of their lords. He commanded the construction of a large city with multiple earthen ramparts and wooden palisades that drained hundreds of men from local labor pools and took two years to build. He demanded annual tribute not only from the Kangju but also from Yuan communities southward in Fergana and from Yancai groups further westward between the Aral and Caspian Seas—all groups that had once been under the influence of the Kangju. He sat poised to press his new empire even further north into Yilie steppe lands beyond the Yancai, southward over remnant Yuezhi hordes, and westward as far as Parthia and its affiliated city- states like Alexandria of Prophthasia.146 The Xiongnu Empire of Zhizhi appeared to be a schematic for success. With its political structure intact, the nomadic regime had migrated from Inner Asia into an ideal domain of Central Asia in which it could rebuild and prosper. But while Zhizhi became increasingly entrenched in these new western lands, consolidating his Central Asian Xiongnu Empire, his persistent adversary and
Of Wolves and Sheep 161 younger brother Huhanye had quietly grown stronger. After only four years in the Han borderlands, he returned to the Mongolian grasslands in 47 bce to flourish in Zhizhi’s absence. Then, in 36 bce, a rogue Han general of the Western Regions Protectorate gathered his army of Han soldiers and some Hu cavalry in the distant frontier and lay siege to Zhizhi’s new capital. They burned the city and beheaded the western chanyu.147 The Kangju seized the opportunity to throw off the reins of Zhizhi’s nascent Xiongnu Empire and quickly recognized the legitimacy and authority of the renewed Xiongnu Empire of Huhanye in the comfortably distant east. Yet, even as they threw out one Xiongnu wolf and emerged as a new nexus of power in Central Asia, they were forced to acknowledge the hegemony of the other Xiongnu wolf, who rapidly displayed as veracious an imperial appetite as the other. Emboldened after his older brother’s sudden defeat, Huhanye rebuilt the Xiongnu Empire based within its original Mongolian heartland. But he also wrested control of the expanded political networks that Zhizhi had forged into Central Asia. The nomadic regime henceforth entered a new era in which it stood as a continental cosmopolitan power with even greater influence over both Central and Inner Asia than any of the chanyus of generations before.
6
Masters of the Continental Worlds
T
he chanyu called Huhanye had come to reside within Han border lands, but he was not beholden to Han society or its ruler. He entered a realm full of his own chiefs who had been given titles as lords in the Han Empire but only nominally submitted. In his endeavor to appeal for Han support, Huhanye came first to the mountainous outskirts of the Han capital district, where a ritual site for the Xiongnu Heavenly god Jinglu had been built. He then withdrew to the northernmost stretch of the Yellow River, just west of where the early Xiongnu chanyus had once set up courtly camps. This fugitive chanyu had come to a landscape claimed by the Han court and its colonies but brimming with Xiongnu chiefs. Only for the New Year rites did Huhanye come to the Han court in person to pay his respects. For the time being, he accepted the designation of “servant” to the Han, but he was ascribed no lordly title. The Han nobles immediately recognized this as a designation that placed him outside the Han system and thus out of Han control. By default, this treatment also ranked him above all Han lords, as a sovereign ruler within their frontier. When coming to court, Emperor Xuan richly rewarded him with exclusive gifts of Han regal status. a cap, belt and garments [of Han standard], a golden [royal] seal with ribbon, a jade ornamented sword, a waist dagger, a bow, four rounds of arrows, ten [black] banner spears, one leisure chariot, a saddle and bridle, fifteen horses, twenty catties of gold, two hundred thousand coins, seventy-seven sets of [official] garments, eight thousand pieces of multi- colored silk, embroidery, woven silk, gauze, and other complex silks, and six thousand catties of raw silk.1 With the privileges of a sovereign lord, Huhanye was able to migrate “outside the garrisons, with various seasonal grains” for his provisioning, all the while “coming and going to graze [livestock]” in a broad territorial expanse from Hexi to Ordos.2 After two years of unrestrained maneuvers throughout the frontier, Huhanye came again to the Han court and received a second endowment of regal gifts from Emperor Xuan as well as an additional “one hundred and ten clothing sets, nine thousand multicolored silks, and eight thousand catties of raw silk.”3
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0006
Masters of the Continental Worlds 163 But when the next Han emperor Yuan ascended in 49 bce, Huhanye did not visit court to pay his respects to the new ruler. Instead, he sent requests for twenty thousand bushels of grain to be taken from each of the Han garrisons in the Ordos to aid “his suffering people.”4 The chanyu continued to roam throughout the frontier, amply supplied with valued garments and grains for distribution among the local chiefs and provincial kings who dwelled in lands that had once been exclusively Xiongnu domains. Hu chiefs who had previously been folded into affiliate states of the Han began defecting northward into Xiongnu realms, taking thousands of people with them.5 By 47 bce, when Huhanye demanded the return of his hostage son at the Han court, emissaries in the frontier anxiously reported that “the chanyu’s people are greatly flourishing, birds and beasts about the garrisons are completely [gone], and the chanyu is capable enough to fend for himself.”6 Huhanye rapidly reconsolidated hordes in the regions that had once been fractured by war with the Han. And, after a handful of years, he was ready to reclaim the steppe. Atop a mountain far from the Han court, with his entire muster of chiefs in attendance, Huhanye coerced a handful of Han envoys to drink from a Xiongnu heirloom skull cup and ceremoniously bind their emperor into a blood covenant of the chanyu’s design. The new alliance of peers decreed that “Han and Xiongnu are together as one house for generations upon generations.” Huhanye then returned northward triumphantly to the royal abodes of the Xiongnu Empire.7 Over the course of the next few years, Huhanye regained his authority over the multitudes of households and chiefs in the steppe. Then, in 36 bce, his only remaining challenger, his elder brother Zhizhi, was killed by a rogue Han army in the Western Regions. The Han generals out west had ostensibly acted on behalf of the Han dynasty and their ally Huhanye, but their actions in effect bolstered Huhanye as a rising adversary to the Han. Having already regained most of the southern and central territories of the empire, Huhanye was suddenly in a good position to take control of the far western realms that Zhizhi had defeated and thereby assert Xiongnu supremacy across Eurasia.8 A couple years after Zhizhi’s severed head arrived at the Han court, Huhanye came one last time to offer his gratitude. But his real aim was to demand even more from Emperor Yuan. The chanyu was showered with garments and silks as before, and, when he requested to be a son-in-law of the emperor, he was given five brides from the emperor’s harem. They were not from the Han royal family but were nevertheless from families of Han nobility, and Huhanye took them back to his court as a symbol of having forced the Han sovereign into an acquiescent alliance.9 In this last visit, Huhanye had also been so bold as to propose that he be formally named the Protector of the Frontier Lands, stretching from far eastern Han colonies in Shanggu to far western Han garrisons in Dunhuang; in other words, he would be in control of all the southern territories that the early chanyus had
164 Xiongnu claimed before the aggressions of the Militant Emperor. Emperor Yuan declined the official offer, but the chanyu’s statement was clear. Regardless of the presence of Han fortresses, the Xiongnu had repossessed those realms. Several decades later, when the Han asked for a purportedly small bit of land, near the Hexi Corridor but outside the Long Walls, the chanyu Wuzhuliu summarily refused, stating that the area contained good timber for carts and yurts as well as falcons valued for arrow feathers. He justified his refusal by arguing that it was land claimed “for generations” by local chiefs of the Xiongnu. More importantly, he cited the pact consecrated by Huhanye, in which “all [that lies] north of the Long Walls” belonged to the Xiongnu, reminding the impudent Han emperor of the bilateral agreement.10 Despite repeated missions sent to Huhanye and subsequent chanyus, the Han were unable to force a repeal of Huhanye’s agreement of 47 bce.11 After Huhanye died in 31 bce, the position of chanyu passed without question to his eldest son. The new Fuzhulei Chanyu promptly set up his immediate younger brothers as the Luli and Tuqi Kings of Left and Right. The position of chanyu would eventually pass to these four brothers, all of whom were sons of the two principal wives of Huhanye.12 By way of these sister wives, the ensuing line of six chanyus were also all grandsons of the King of Hunye, one of the primary consort clans of the Xiongnu regime. This relation served to restrengthen the bonds of the core imperial lineages, who sought to collectively reassert exclusive authority across Inner Asia and beyond. In addition, all of these rulers were given the descriptor of ruodi, a Xiongnu word meaning “filial,” to their title of chanyu to underscore the importance of preserving the prominence of the single royal family.13 The line of Huhanye’s sons lasted for over a century, enabling the dynasty of the Luandi clan to endure for generations after his death. Huhanye also had at least ten sons by his secondary wives. A son borne by one of the brides, the famous Lady Wang from the Han realms, became the Right Rizhu King, and the others were likely apportioned into similar ranks of peripheral nobles. Such apportionments of Luandi family members would have allowed the ruling horde to further reinstate, on a necessarily broad scale, more direct control over the lesser kingly positions throughout the empire. To reinforce this kin-based cohesion for the mesh of imperial aristocracy, the Xiongnu Great Chiefs fostered an array of exclusive materials and practices. Xiongnu nobles flaunted goods from the distant eastern and western ends of Asia as tokens of command over thriving trade networks. To honor these imperial lords and those directly connected to the ruling lineages, a new kind of mounded tomb in which exotic and ostentatious materials were interred became the standard.14 Together these accoutrements and arenas contributed to a new cosmopolitan political culture for the new continental empire.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 165 On the Global Stage The restored Xiongnu Empire rapidly reined in control of peripheral realms and mitigated threats from foreign powers. In the decades of peace after Huhanye, no kings or high-ranking chiefs of the Xiongnu defected southward.15 Fuzhulei Chanyu, Huhanye’s first son, visited the Han court only once in 25 bce, and the two subsequent chanyus never went south at all. The Han threat had been pacified, and Huhanye’s tribute-producing treaty conceded even greater gifts than the previous Familial Alliances.16 When Wuzhuliu Chanyu desired to visit the Han court in 3 bce, he supposedly heard that the silk and gold gifts prepared for him were of low grade. So he cancelled the trip and sent an envoy with a berating letter. The Han were prohibited from altering either tributary or territorial stipulations of Huhanye’s pact. Wuzhuliu did not come to the Han capital until two years later. On this occasion, he was given residence in the opulent Shanglin Park, the hunting grounds and pleasure retreat of the Han emperors. The Han presented him with hundreds of garment sets and tens of thousands of catties of fine silks and silk wadding— gifts on par with those presented to Fuzhulei decades earlier.17 To the west of the empire, the Wusun and others retained formal alliances as “servants” of the Xiongnu.18 Thus, when a Yabgu Lord of the Wusun plundered the Xiongnu western frontier in 5 bce, killing people and absconding cattle, the Wusun Kunmo could not formally object to the chanyu’s retaliation. The Xiongnu Left Great Danghu attacked with an army of five thousand cavalry, killing several hundred of the Wusun, capturing several thousand people, and driving off with cattle herds. In fear of even greater retribution, the Yabgu Lord sent a hostage son to the chanyu.19 Other kings of the Western Regions also reaffirmed their subservience to the Xiongnu. The King of Gushi residing in the lands just north of the Turpan Basin, along with a local king that had once submitted to the Han, migrated with all their households and herds to submit to Wuzhuliu Chanyu in 1 bce. They were then resettled far to the east within the lands of the Left Luli King. Not surprisingly, the Han protested the defection of Central Asian kings to any regime but their own, attempting to retain their loose hold over the Western Regions. However, since these hordes did not come from lands “south of the Long Walls,” the pact of Huhanye stipulated that they were not among those disallowed from submitting to the Xiongnu.20 Whether through raids or defections, the herds and households of the steppe empire were growing yet again. In continued protest to these Western Regions submissions, the Han court demanded the return of the sealed pact between Huhanye Chanyu and Emperor Xuan. In its stead, Han envoys arrived with a letter of Four Conditions to alter the pact. Not only were those in the Central Kingdom disallowed from submitting to the Xiongnu, so would the Wuhuan in the east, Wusun in the west, and any
166 Xiongnu Western Regions kings who hung Han ribboned seals of alliance from their belts be prohibited from Xiongnu allegiance.21 But Wuzhuliu Chanyu refused the insolent alterations. A concurrent delegation was sent to the Wuhuan bearing the Four Conditions and coercing them to cease tribute payments to the Xiongnu. But when the Wuhuan halted their shipments, the enraged chanyu sent an emissary who bound up their lead chieftain to hang. When the chieftain’s brothers retaliated, killing the emissary and his attachés, the chanyu sent forth his Left Tuqi King with a massive punitive army. The Xiongnu butchered the enemy and drove off with thousands of their people. The rebellious Wuhuan leaders scattered into the mountains and retreated to the easternmost fortifications. From there, they resumed tribute payments of horses, livestock, hides, and cloth even though none of their captured was returned.22 After such demonstrations of power, neighboring entities to the south, east, or west dared not defy the new Xiongnu regime. The Han plan of Four Conditions had failed.23 Huhanye’s regime benefitted greatly from his elder brother’s shift westward into Central Asia. Isolated agents of the Xiongnu had long held sway over kingdoms of the Western Regions and beyond. When Zhizhi transposed the heart of his Xiongnu regime to the mountains and grasslands of what is now southern Kazakhstan, he secured a direct and even greater control over what had been far-distant allies and loose tributary partners of the Xiongnu. The surprise defeat of Zhizhi interrupted his enterprises to found an empire superimposed over the multitude of interlocked kingdoms of Central Asia. But his vision of a new nomadic empire, deftly shifting like a truly “mobile state” from Inner Asia to Central Asia, was not implausible.24 A regime centered in the middle of the continent could certainly flourish by relying primarily on control over the rapidly intensifying networks of continental exchange, a web later dubbed the Silk Roads.25 A new era was emerging in which burgeoning colossal empires, from Xiongnu and Han to Parthian and Roman, were intertwined across a multitude of kingdoms that collectively fueled unprecedented surges of transcontinental exchange.26 Materials from these disparate realms were flowing across the continent when the Xiongnu and Han dynasties arose, and Chinese goods were already in circulation within the heart of Eurasia when the Han emissary Zhang Qian arrived there. Stories of his journeys teemed with treasures and horses from Central Asia, all of which enhanced the desires of his sovereign, the Militant Emperor. But it was not until the end of the first century bce, after Huhanye had revived the Xiongnu Empire in Inner Asia, that such exotica appear to have engulfed East Asian realms and permeated all ranks of their societies.27 As contentions between regimes at the peripheries of Eurasia escalated, so did the fortunes of Central Asian kingdoms amplify. The Hellenistic market towns of Fergana were purportedly saturated with Han goods, and Chinese bronze mirrors
Masters of the Continental Worlds 167 have accordingly been found in numerous graves of Fergana elites.28 At the same time, local elites in southern Kazakhstan and elsewhere in Eurasia, as far as the Black Sea, donned stone and bronze belt pieces emulating the long-established emblems of Xiongnu status.29 Whether as copies or as local derivatives, the widely dispersed penchant for these personal ornaments demonstrates the continental magnitude of Xiongnu influence. The steppe regime was known far and wide and had only to reassert its authority. Amid steppe symbols of power, there emerged as well a proclivity for items that purposefully combined ideas and technologies from far-flung regions into culturally pluralistic adornments. Eurasian steppe kingdoms like the Wusun, which flourished from mixed pastoral and agricultural economies,30 adopted expressions of political power that merged vocabularies of prestige from cultures spanning the far western and eastern reaches of the continent.31 Lords of Wusun realms toted ornaments that bore essential Central Asian animals like camels and horses along with heavenly creatures of Chinese pantheons, all ornamented with turquoise stones and gold manufacturing techniques from western Eurasia.32 Beginning in the late first millennium bce, aspiring rulers in Eurasia increasingly donned luxuries of explicitly multicultural prestige. While badges of the old Xiongnu regime had been adopted across the continent, carrying with them the potency of the Chanyu and his Great Chiefs, rulers of the new Xiongnu regime began to cultivate more cosmopolitan emblems of power. Just as the early Chanyus had overtaken networks of Square Grave elites and neighboring Inner Asian kingdoms during the course of initial Xiongnu expansion, so did Huhanye wrest control of the Wusun and Kangju networks that permeated Central Asia, linking them into the Xiongnu matrix of noble nomads within the Mongolian grasslands. The new empire was a different beast from before. It had become an even greater force interlinking worlds. With this more commanding presence throughout Eurasia came boundless wealth for the Great Chiefs holding the political reins. Great Reformations Despite the outcomes of the civil war, the revived Xiongnu regime retained much of the political configuration of before. A small assembly of Great Chiefs and their Chanyu leader collectively ruled over Inner Asia, while a multitude of subordinate chiefs organized under the hierarchical decimal system presided over local domains and launched ventures into realms beyond. The highest ranks of Tuqi, Luli, and other Chiefs of Ten-Thousands were held exclusively by the same three noble clans that had reigned since the rise of Modun. While no formal alterations to this system or its ranks are referenced in Han accounts, a change to the succession order for the supreme position of chanyu infers some adjustments for the security of this and other ruling ranks.
168 Xiongnu Rather than an open tanistry to select the next ruler from the Luandi lineage, successions proceeded through a preordained sequence of the sons of Huhanye. Such alterations may have been one of a host of changes that sought to strengthen the hold of the noble clans over supreme positions in the empire, especially in the wake of ambitious provincial clans that had wedged themselves into higher ranks and catapulted the steppe into civil war. Although the structure of the empire remained essentially the same, the Luandi and its affiliated imperial clans fostered several reformations of political culture in the process of dynastic reformation that affected all levels of the imperial network.33 Personal garments, for example, shifted significantly in material and stylistic preferences. Belts changed from openwork bronze pieces to flat iron plates decorated with gold foil. Some were even inlaid with precious stones (Figure 6.1[3]). Bronze belt plates with particular scenes and motifs had once represented unity among chiefs of the empire, but regional production centers generated increasingly regional styles.34 This non-centralized control over political culture was a manifestation of the fissionary rise in provincial power. As Xiongnu prestige belts spread ever more widely across Eurasia and begat alternate forms that were more derivations than emulations of Xiongnu badges, the early-era accoutrements lost even more of their potency within the core steppe realms of the empire. Rulers of the restored regime pushed instead for alternate modes of prestige, ones that would signal a newer and greater era of Xiongnu power, and would emphasize the continental scale of realms and resources which the Great Chiefs controlled. Demonstrations of status drew ever greater on foreign styles and exotic materials. Old motifs like composite horned beasts were executed in radically new styles, and many images like the nomadic scenes or pairs of horses and yaks diminished. As most local elites donned iron belts covered in gold foil, Xiongnu nobles adopted more ostentatious adornments. Their garments were often covered in small gilded bronze ornaments depicting horses that emphasized the nomadic traditions of their regime (Figure 6.1[1]) or were fastened with an assortment of gold filigree buttons inlaid with turquoise, ornaments that copied the fashions of nomadic elites in Central Asia with whom the Xiongnu collaborated for control of transcontinental trade (Figure 6.1[2]).35 Furnishings for the Xiongnu nobles exhibited a new array of ostentatious decorations with a similar mixture of traditions drawn from neighboring realms. In addition to using Chinese mortise-tenon construction for fitting together wooden planks, the coffins for the upper elites were often also wrapped in silk and covered in iron or gold lattice patterns with intermittent flower-like ornaments. These four-petal motifs, which were already prevalent in Han lands and elsewhere, were further illustrative of a far more cosmopolitan style for Xiongnu nobles.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 169
Figure 6.1 Gilded garment ornaments. (1) Gilded bronze horse pin, Tomb 2 Duurlig Nars; (2) gold filigree button with turquoise inlays, Tomb 20 Gol Mod; (3) gold covered iron belt buckle with inlays, depicting intertwined serpents, Grave 27 Burkhan Tolgoi. Institute of Archaeology, Mongolia.
Along with an amplified predilection for exotic fashions, the culture of imperial participation placed an increasing emphasis on the adoption of specifically Xiongnu customs. Beliefs and rites specific to the Xiongnu pervaded the spheres of local elites, manifested most discernibly in codified symbols. All manners of burial containments, from finely crafted wood coffins to simple stone slab cists, began to be accompanied by circle and crescent pairs. These emblems, made of gold or iron, referenced the principal daily rituals of Xiongnu chiefs to the sun
170 Xiongnu
Figure 6.2 Gold foil sun and moon mounted on wood coffin, Tomb 64, Takhiltyn-Khotgor. National Museum of Mongolia.
and moon and thereby exhibited the adoption of Xiongnu ritual customs by communities throughout the realms (Figure 6.2). The ubiquity of new emblems like the sun and moon pair was but one illustration of the full adoption of Xiongnu customs by provincial groups. To demonstrate full inclusion in the imperial network, local elites sought not only to dress the part with specific belts but also to perform the part. Communities throughout the steppe empire began to mark their graves, dress their deceased, inter their bodies, and make offerings all in standardized fashion. Elite families laid their dead in shaft pits marked by rings of stones and most often in wooden coffins with the bodies stretched straight and oriented north (Figure 6.3).
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Figure 6.3 Circular grave. Reconstruction drawing of stone circle, burial pit, and chamber furnishings, Grave 7 Shombuuzyn Belchir. Drawing by Mara Nakama, from excavations of Khovd Archaeology Project.
The same Xiongnu style of ceramic cooking pots and bronze cauldrons were used at feasts throughout the realms, and funeral attendees offered the same manner of heads and hooves of livestock placed in the same spots in the graves. Even local elites in the peripheries of the empire, where larch and birch tree forests did not grow, still sought to bury their dead in large wood plank coffins and make offerings in birch-bark boxes just like the noble nomads residing in the core of the steppe empire where forests were more common.36 The resulting distribution of communities with identical feasting wares, ritual customs, and emblems of prestige demonstrated a broadly distributed yet tightly bound network of hordes that identified completely with the Xiongnu regime and acquiesced to its ruling body of Great Chiefs (Figure 6.4).
Figure 6.4 The Xiongnu Empire and Eurasia. 1 Takhiltyn-Khotgor, 2 Gol Mod II, 3 Gol Mod, 4 Noyon Uul, 5 Duurling Nars; 6 Burkhan Tolgoi (Lower Egiin Valley), 7 Khüren-Khond (Baga Gazaryn Chuluu), 8 Shombuuzyn Belchir; 9 Khüret Dov, 10 Gua Dov, 11 Kherlen Bars II; 12 Tamgany-ovoo. Circle grave (10–400 burials) and square tomb (40–400 burials) site symbols scaled according to total number of burials at each site; monumental enclosure (100–400 meters wide) site symbols scaled according to wall dimensions.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 173 Reigning Supreme In conjunction with the standardization of rituals intended to create greater cohesion among the disparate local elites, the ruling clans also cultivated a new culture of supreme imperial nobility. Early rulers of the empire had established a number of exclusive kingly ranks to elevate themselves above the swathe of provincial chiefs. But as the ruling Luandi and its affiliates of the Huyan, Lan, and Xubu collectively reasserted their authority at the end of the first century bce, they radically restructured the materials and practices of political culture to distinguish themselves from provincial elites, the likes of whom had incited civil war. They flaunted foreign-imbued assemblages of prestige goods as well as exclusive manners of imperial monuments that marked their sovereignty onto the landscape. Xiongnu rulers also embellished more of their royal centers with Han style architecture. A handful of small enclosures scattered throughout the Xiongnu realm attest to the building of walled central places among provincial elites, but most contained little to no architectural elaboration.37 Smaller enclosures, such as Kherlen Bars II at the eastern fringes of the Xiongnu realms, would have served as extraordinary complexes in a landscape of felt tent residences, but they possessed no cosmopolitan ornamentation.38 During the Early Xiongnu era, even the larger walled complexes contained buildings fashioned with wooden columns and log structures; all except for the constructed residence of the Chanyu bearing eave tiles that pronounced him the Son of Heaven.39 But after Huhanye revived the Xiongnu regime at the end of the first century bce, the Great Chiefs had more extravagant monumental enclosures, all of which had walls, gates, and central buildings fashioned with Chinese style columns, roofs and walkways. One stretch in the heart of the empire boasted several walled complexes with foreign architecture, all of which were evenly spaced over 100 kilometers along the Upper Kherlen River.40 Large gates with tiled eaves were set in each enclosure wall, and the interior buildings were placed on top of earthen platforms and covered in ceramic tiled roofs with decorated eaves. Pebble path walkways circumvented the buildings, and, in one instance, rows of wooden columns were set on carved stone bases. The construction styles and decorative elements purposefully imitated lavish architecture that Xiongnu dignitaries would have seen on imperial buildings in the Han realms.41 But these complexes were not mere reproductions of Han palaces or temples. The open nature of the enclosed areas around central buildings may have resembled the layout of ritual complexes within the Han capital, but the setting of buildings in varied positions off center indicate a non-Chinese sensibility.42 Details of the architectural ornaments demonstrate specifically non-Han production and Xiongnu pronouncements. The curved roof tiles of Chinese form were decorated with the wave-line designs of Xiongnu cookpots. The manner of wheel- made pottery production particular to the Xiongnu was used to
174 Xiongnu manufacture the loads of eave tiles, which were fired in the kilns of workshops within the stretches of the Upper Kherlen Valley.43 Many eave tiles bore altered versions of Chinese motifs and some even had explicit renderings of Xiongnu tamga clan marks (Figure 6.5).44 Nevertheless, Chinese style roof tiles, walls, and wooden columns added to the extravagant manner of these royal centers and imbued them with exotic fashions of authority that further set them apart from enclosures or buildings of provincial elites. Whether they hosted social feasts, religious rites, or political ceremonies, the exact functions of these cosmopolitan complexes is as of yet unclear, but they undoubtedly served as exclusive arenas for activities of the imperial rulers. Differences in the locations and architecture of each enclosure may indicate different seasonal uses in summer or winter.45 The southernmost site of Gua Dov was smaller than the others, had open walls and a possible pond beside it, and sat in an open part of the valley next to the Kherlen River. The northern two sites of Terelj and Bürkh, on the other hand, were slightly larger. They were also within a more contained part of the valley away from the open steppe and were set back from the main river course against the foothills, all
Figure 6.5 Ceramic eave tile with Xiongnu tamga mark, Terelj walled site. National Museum of Mongolia.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 175 providing better shelter from winter winds. The largest enclosure, at Khüret Dov, was more than twice the size of the others, had numerous platforms with architecture, and stood in the middle of the stretch of walled sites.46 Considering the relative placement and forms of the collective sites, these could have functioned as a series of central places, set within the same expansive area along the Upper Kherlen River, that were utilized for gatherings of different sizes and purposes for the Xiongnu nobles, likely led by one of the Great Chiefs or even the Chanyu himself. Walled enclosures were certainly not the only places for gatherings and ceremonies of the imperial elites who maneuvered in their domains with mobile hordes of felt walled tents. Just as tamga signs appeared on the eaves of monumental enclosures, so were they carved into the landscape.47 Tamgas etched onto prominent rock outcrops could have served as territorial brandings, as they do among other nomadic groups who seek to mark control over routes and resources.48 Yet most of the carved rock faces have numerous tamga marks (Figure 6.6). Variations between individual tamgas could possibly relate to different clans, but the similarity among the known tamgas most likely suggests stylistic modifications of the same few symbols.49 If we consider these not as mere markers of territorial assertions but as products of assertive ceremonial events,50 then the repeated etchings of these imperial insignia at single locations in the landscape could be vestiges of multiple visits by royal hordes. Most tamgas occur along important routes, passes, or natural nodes in the steppe, which were surely the focus of attention for itinerant circuits of the Great Chiefs and their entourages. The distribution of these symbols thus adds another dimension to the expanse of
Figure 6.6 Rock inscriptions of Xiongnu tamgas, Tsagaan Gol, Mongolia. Photo by Jamsranjav Bayarsaikhan.
176 Xiongnu Xiongnu sovereignty throughout the core Mongolian grasslands and especially across their frontiers. The most conspicuous markers of imperial dominion were the handful of cemeteries with massive square tombs spread across the empire.51 Rectangular earthen mounds set with walls of stones signified interments of the most privileged nobles. Long ramps led down toward deep pits with large log chambers and opulent offerings. Just as Xiongnu rulers utilized Chinese architectural techniques to augment their large walled complexes, so did they utilize Chinese technologies of ramps and stepped pits for deep tomb construction (Figure 6.7). While stepped-pit wood-chamber burials had largely gone out of fashion in the Han Empire by this time, replaced instead by multiroom brick tombs, the memory of such grave construction was still available for the Xiongnu nobility in their desire to craft grandiose tombs for their upper ranks. In addition to drawing from Han traditions of ramped burial pits and mortise-tenon wood plank coffins, Xiongnu nobles also borrowed traditions of stone-walled earthen mounds and log burial chambers that had long been used by elites of neighboring Sayan and Altai realms.52 The tombs of these nouveau nobles were cosmopolitan proclamations of hegemony over the neighboring adversaries from whence the traditions came and declarations of preeminent status above any of the provincial elites belonging to non-imperial clans. Surrounding the large stone and earth structures were features that added to the austerity of the noble persons buried beneath, transforming a tomb designated for a single interment funeral into a ritual complex for continual veneration of a deceased noble. The most frequent additions were lines of circular graves that flanked either side of the square tombs. The spatial proximity and skirting layout of the grave plots imply that these were people who were meant to accompany the deceased nobles, perhaps to “follow [them] in death” as Han accounts suggest.53 And while early speculations labeled them as mere slaves for offering, their placement in circular graves often equivalent to local elites in smaller cemeteries elsewhere signal that they held social ranking of some significance in the Xiongnu Empire.54 The vast majority of satellite graves that accompanied the square tombs were of adult males, and preliminary genetic studies have shown them to be anything other than kin relatives.55 Nevertheless, they represent some other non-kin yet significant social relationship, one so strong that their identities at death were inexorably tied to the nobles in the square tombs. This collection of primarily men, with occasional women or children, could represent something of an early form of noble nomad entourages—perhaps like the personal men-at-arms collective loyal to Modun Chanyu that assembled in the course of his rise as ruler.56 Some of the larger square tombs had dozens of accompanying graves. Tomb 1 at Gol Mod II—the largest known Xiongnu tomb, with a mound more than 45 meters wide, and quite possibly for one of the ruling chanyus—was flanked by
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Figure 6.7 Square tomb. Reconstruction drawing of stone-lined mound, stepped burial pit and ramp, and nested wood chamber with furnishings for Tomb 20 at Noyon Uul. Drawing by Mara Nakama, after Polos’mak et al. 2011.
twenty-eight circular graves, from small burials of children to large burials of elites from different parts of the empire who were interred with bronze mirrors, lacquered bowls, and even a Roman glass cup.57 In addition to the resources for constructing monumental deep tombs and the offerings that came with funerals attended by large gatherings of wealthy families, those nobles who were accompanied by affluent people buried in circular graves beside them would have been further elevated in status. And those close associates of the deceased who were not buried beside them may have
178 Xiongnu participated as well in funerary venerations for the deceased—giving sacrifices of their own wealth to the lavish funeral ceremonies, including prestigious goods or prized animals, instead of sacrificing their lives. Some people even cut off their hair braids to place in the burial chambers as symbolic sacrifices of themselves.58 Offerings of livestock for the square tombs generally adhered to Xiongnu customs by placing only the extremities in the burial pits and setting them to the north of the coffin. But while livestock sacrifices among local elites included a range of sheep, goats, cattle, and sometimes horses, those given to nobles of the square tombs were almost always the heads and hooves of horses, the most valuable of animal sacrifices.59 Sacrifices honoring deceased nobles even extended beyond the funeral. In addition to livestock offered within the burial pits, parallel lines of stones arranged to the north of some tombs yield the remains of supplementary ceremonies in conjunction with the funeral or at later dates. Each time, livestock were sacrificed, consumed, and their bones thoroughly burned and left between a small pair of stones near the main tomb. The greatest of Xiongnu nobles were thus bestowed with elaborate mortuary complexes for their honorable interment as well as for their continued veneration.60 Along with these ritual sacrifices of pastoral wealth, funeral attendees offered large storage jars, likely for grains, to be set in the tombs, and scattered seeds of unhusked millet on the floors of the chambers. These offerings signified the bounties of agricultural harvests from steppe farming communities controlled by the Xiongnu nobles.61 The empire was as diverse as the wealth of the ruling chiefs was expansive, and their funerals and tombs emphasized the economic breadth of their power. Personal trappings of the nobles were equally as grandiose. The elite man in Tomb 1 at Gol Mod II, likely a chanyu, was interred with a suit of iron scale armor, an iron spear, and a set of iron-tipped arrows. He wore a belt clasped with a serpent-decorated gold buckle that was inlaid with turquoise stones, and his clothing was embellished with gold filigree buttons inlaid with turquoise, much like buttons and pins that adorned the clothing of nomadic elites who ruled Bactria at the time.62 Many other Xiongnu nobles donned similar fasteners for their garments, and some even wore ornaments of gold or silver that depicted monster-like faces of Hellenistic-style icons that were fashionable among elites in the small kingdoms of distant Central Asia.63 The attire for the ruler’s steeds was equally extravagant, consisting primarily of silver ornaments showing horses with wings, gazelle horns, and split hooves (Figure 6.8). Horned horses were the most prevalent decorations for steeds of the high Xiongnu nobles, and they were depicted in a multitude of fashions. Some had wings, some had two horns, and some had bushy yak tails; but all had split hooves indicative of cervids. They were composite beasts that integrated elements of the most important animals in their world—namely horses, yaks,
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Figure 6.8 Silver horse ornament depicting horned ungulate beast, Tomb 20 Gol Mod. Institute of Archaeology, Mongolia.
ibex, gazelles, and stags—and they most likely referenced a host of legends about mythical creatures that had long been part of steppe cultures.64 Horse ornaments for the nobles occasionally included more exotic creatures, like the horned phoenixes on turquoise inlaid gold ornaments found in Tomb 1 at Gol Mod II. These and other horse ornaments were sometimes embellished with small cloud décor characteristic of precious metal goods manufactured in the Han Empire. But such items were not indications of the Xiongnu acculturating to Han traditions; rather it was yet another indication of how the Xiongnu elites absorbed the decorative styles and mythological icons of neighboring cultures into their own steppe-dominated pantheon.65 A set of silver horse ornaments in Tomb 20 at Noyon Uul (see Figure 6.7)— which depicted mostly horned horses, stags, and gazelles—also had a piece bearing a horned dragon, clearly emulating beasts of Chinese mythology. Yet, as if counterpoised with this Han icon, the ornament for the breast of the noble steed was a repurposed Hellenistic-style silver disc depicting a satyr chasing a maenad.66 Not only would these icons of Greek mythology have been palpably
180 Xiongnu exotic, the style and form of the disc indicate it was made in a workshop far to the west of the Xiongnu realms, most likely within the heart of Eurasia.67 Caches of treasures belonging to Bactrian elites include plaster molds for creating similar precious metal discs, further suggesting that Xiongnu nobles retained relations with the Central Asian lords who controlled not only the flow but also the production of goods, replicating those from far to the west.68 The wood plank coffin into which the ruler in Tomb 1 was laid to rest was draped in silk and covered over with lattice and quatrefoil ornaments much like his peers; but, in the case of his coffin, the pieces were covered in gold foil that had been pressed with cloud décor and inlaid with turquoise stones. These were the kinds of embellishments that signaled the ultimate in affluence and power among a multitude of royal chiefs. The coffin was then set within a large double chamber of fitted-log beams and columns resembling the chambers of elites in the Yenesei valleys at the northern fringes of the Xiongnu Empire.69 Although the central part of Tomb 1 was badly looted and thus does not contain the full array of goods bestowed upon the ruler, at least seven immense food storage jars were found in the main tomb chamber, along with the silver and gold horse ornaments and other luxuries. The funeral attendees also placed a large assemblage of feasting vessels, perhaps meant to provide the ruler with the necessary accoutrements to hold extravagant feasts in the afterlife. His chamber had steppe-style bronze cauldrons for cooking cuts of meat, a Han-style bronze platter for serving foods, and a bronze pot with legs and a spout for pouring heated drinks. Fragments of Han lacquered wares and of two Roman glass cups intimate the broad exotic manners of food and drink service vessels at a Xiongnu royal feast.70 And among it all were pieces of animal-fat oil lamp dishes to light up the grandiose gatherings.71 Directly on top of the chamber of Tomb 1 was placed a lacquered Han-style chariot with designs imitating the kinds of embroidered silks with Chinese characters that were given as tribute. This chariot, with its exceptional ornamentation far greater than any other chariot found in a square tomb, is conceivably one of the many gifts of leisure chariots with umbrellas bestowed directly from the court of the Han to the court of the Xiongnu.72 But this was not the only vehicle for the ruler in his afterlife. Several disassembled vehicles with bronze fittings were also placed above the chamber, near to where a row of horse heads was set. In contrast to the Han-style chariot, the fittings of these vehicles evidence metallurgic traditions of Inner Asia rather than the Chinese Central Plains and were likely some of the “covered carts” and “weighted wagons” of the imperial horde.73 The well-preserved tombs at Noyon Uul cemetery divulge a similar array of luxuriant materials for the Xiongnu nobility—a plethora of cloth preserved by permafrost in the deep tombs.74 In addition to Chinese silks wrapped around wooden coffins, some tombs contained cut pieces of silk gauze, multicolored silk,
Masters of the Continental Worlds 181 or embroidered silk (Figure 6.9[1]). More practical to the Xiongnu nobles than sets of Han clothing, these silks were highly valued material sections that could be repurposed for steppe-style clothing. Articles found in these square tombs demonstrate how Xiongnu garments were augmented with, or made completely out of, exotic materials like Chinese silk in order to transform attire into more prestigious garments.75 Leggings with felt soles fit for horse riding were made of silk embroidered woolen cloth or pieced together from fragments of patterned silk. Winter hats with steppe-style swirl motifs were trimmed with sable fur from the north and lined with silk from the south. In addition to the use of Han materials for some garments, much of their fine woolen cloth shows the use of materials from even further away—exotic
Figure 6.9 Textiles from Noyon Uul square tombs. 1 Embroidered Han jin-silk cut piece, Tomb 1; 2 embroidered Central Asian wool tapestry, Tomb 31. Image 1 from National Museum of Mongolia; image 2 from Institute of Archaeology (MAS).
182 Xiongnu dyes from far southern and western Asia.76 In concert with this emphasis on materials from all corners of the wider world, some nobles hung tapestries from Central Asia in their tomb chambers, in the same manner which they likely hung on the walls of their felt tents. Long stretches of woolen tapestries preserved in tombs at Noyon Uul provide evidence of relations with nomadic rulers in Central Asia, most likely the Yabgu Lords of the Yuezhi (Figure 6.9[2]). The headbands, hairstyles, moustaches, clothing, and swords of the figures in these tapestries match the sculptures at Khalchayan palace in Bactria, where Yuezhi clans had begun to build a seat of power so many generations after their exodus from the Hexi Corridor.77 At the beginning of the first century ce, the lord of the Kushan clan declared himself ruler above the other Yabgu Lords. He minted coins that stated his title as a Greek-style “tyrant” of the Kushans and depicted himself with the same hairstyle, moustache, and headband as seen in the tapestries at Noyon Uul—manners derived from Greco-Bactrian elites before the arrival of Yuezhi hordes.78 Although no mentions of relations between these Yuezhi-descended Bactrian lords and the court of the Xiongnu Empire appear in any of the Han histories, materials such as the woolen tapestries and the turquoise-inlaid gold buttons suggest a strong tie between the leaders of these two realms. During the early wars between the Han and Xiongnu, and the later conflicts surrounding Zhizhi’s presence in Central Asia, Yuezhi lords in Bactria had been vassals of the Kangju.79 Yet the geopolitics of Central Asia was shifting quickly with surging trade and the reemergence of Xiongnu hegemony. A direct tribute relationship with the rising Kushan king would certainly have been of great importance to the chanyus of the new Xiongnu regime. The Great Chiefs of the revived empire aggressively asserted their authority far and wide. Their campaigns, both diplomatic and military, spread amid conflicted frontiers with the Han and into distant realms of Siberia and Central Asia. But efforts to maintain control over their own constituent kings and chiefs were equally important. They had to more conspicuously distinguish the members of their ruling clans from provincial leaders in order to retain their sovereignty at the head of the imperial regime. The reformation of the Xiongnu Empire hence entailed a profound bifurcation of the supraregional ruling elites from provincial elite factions, maintained through a new high culture of monumental arenas and exotic accoutrements restricted to the imperial nobility.80 Nobles interred in the grandiose square tombs boasted exclusive funerary arenas, erected at only a handful of sites in the empire (Figure 6.4). Whereas circular grave cemeteries represented the dense web of local elites, square tomb cemeteries designated the paramount network of imperial nobles. They flaunted exotic clothing, wares, and other items that loudly pronounced the continental expanse of resources that abounded among the privileged imperial hordes. Such exclusive materials were essential parts of their culture of reigning supreme, but
Masters of the Continental Worlds 183 Xiongnu nobles retained core rites and accoutrements that reified their base of steppe pastoral communities and traditions. But even though Xiongnu nobles controlled much of the routes and resources of Eurasia, they still ruled a realm centered in the Mongolian steppes. The carpets that covered the floors of their tomb chambers, and probably lay in their royal tents as well, were simultaneous manifestations of their core steppe domain and continental purview (Figure 6.10).81 Spread across most of the middle portion of the carpets were rows of swirl patterns, the same as on their fur hats—and as on many articles of ages past, as far back as Bronze Age ritual stelae still standing in the open grasslands. Their realm, like their carpet, was one seated in Inner Asian lands and steeped in Inner Asian traditions. Broad decorative bands around the perimeter were filled with multicolored embroidered depictions of the same beastly myths that had existed among the nomadic elites conquered by the early chanyus and that filled the scenes of prestige belts of the Early Xiongnu regime. Massive falcons attacked large-horned stags. Panthers with long tails and stag horns, the ends of which bore falcon heads, preyed upon bushy-tailed horned yaks. And all along the fringes of the felt carpet were cut pieces of highly prized Han multicolored jin-silk. The steppe realm of beasts and wool was trimmed with the wealth of subdued foreign powers.
Figure 6.10 Felt carpet with wool embroidery and silk edging, depicting panther beast attacking yak and raptor attacking stag, Tomb 6 Noyon Uul. National Museum of Mongolia.
184 Xiongnu Global Political Culture By the latter Xiongnu era, hordes of local leaders across the Mongolian steppe had come to embrace all aspects of Xiongnu traditions, not just their badges of prestige. But this acceptance of the imperial system did not occur without some challenges to its hierarchical divisions. Notable overlap occurred in the amounts of wealth and labor investment for burials of provincial elites with those of the imperial nobility. Circular graves were qualitatively different from square tombs by their structure and furnishings and, for the most part, were quantitatively different in the size of their construction. But elites who constructed the largest range of circular graves (8-to 12-meter diameter stone rings) contested, in both size and contents, those categorically distinct elites who were interred in the smaller range of square tombs (8-to 15-meter square mounds).82 Some wooden coffins in large circular graves were embellished with lattice and quatrefoil decorations that emulated the ornate coffins of Xiongnu nobility in square tombs. The upper echelons of local elites, while recognizing the codified divisions of the imperial hierarchy manifested in the distinction between circular graves and square tombs, still sought ways to defy the power of the lower-ranking nobles.83 Responding to the inevitable attempts by local elites to challenge imperial power, the royal nobles sought to create dependencies in spheres of wealth and prestige through which local constituent elites were dependent upon their rulers for access to materials that signaled political status. As Xiongnu rulers fashioned a cosmopolitan high culture to elevate their own ranks, they also promoted a global culture of prestige among their subordinates. Foreign materials like turquoise stones and bronze coins already augmented the attire of local elites, but, beginning in the late first millennium bce, exotic goods and styles came to dominate expressions of prestige among all ranks. The Great Chiefs sought to reinforce the subordination of lesser provincial chiefs and compel their adherence to the hierarchical system of empire. To do so, they promoted an elite culture that elevated exotic materials as the principal components of political prestige. Local elites thereby became dependent on the imperial system and the noble clans that controlled the routes and nodes of long-distance trade. In the face of local chiefs constructing massive circular graves, Xiongnu nobles upheld material proscriptions, declaring certain paraphernalia as indicative of their exclusive ranks. While they encouraged the consumption of foreign goods among their constituents, certain exotica remained restricted items. Members of the royal hordes possessed a range of jade ornaments imported from Han China, including intricately carved discs and openwork belt ornaments. They augmented their clothing with sable furs and Chinese silks, and they decked their robes and tunics with tiny gilded horses and gold-mounted turquoise buttons.84 Vehicles of noble status were equally opulent and exclusive. Chinese-style lacquered chariots, with red and black carriage boxes and gilded bronze fittings,
Masters of the Continental Worlds 185 were retained only by those who warranted square tombs. Given such clear sumptuary rules, the Han “Five Baits” strategy of gifting decorated Chinese chariots to local Xiongnu chiefs would have undermined the material indices of the Xiongnu political hierarchy. Horses of only the highest ranking Xiongnu nobles were dressed in bridles of silver and gold foil ornaments, depicting the full range of steppe icons in exotic fashions (Figure 6.8).85 The prevalence of Han-style service items among those nobles interred in square tombs, including bronze spouted pots for pouring drinks and broad bronze platters for serving food, qualitatively elevated their events above those of local elites. Small lacquered tables with hoofed legs or even gold-inlaid lacquered boxes were sometimes also part of the assemblages. The most important vessels for consumption at elite gatherings were the bowls and cups held by the hosts and handed to esteemed guests. Assembled Xiongnu elites of all ranks would have drank alcohol from these vessels to consecrate oaths and reify political ties.86 The ruler in Tomb 1 at Gol Mod II had Roman multicolored glass bowls as well as Han lacquered cups and bowls for his feasts, but the majority of Xiongnu nobles used only Han wares to augment their cosmopolitan feasts.87 The most prevalent of foreign service vessels were lacquered ear-handle cups with intricate red and black designs made in the Han Empire (Figure 6.11). Han nobles employed enormous feasting sets of lacquer and bronze wares, including pots, plates, trays, and numerous bowls and cups for every person in attendance.88 However, the Xiongnu appear to have utilized only some of these service items for their elite gatherings, namely cups and bowls, and seemingly in fewer number than the Han.89 Whereas individual Han nobles retained dozens of cups in their tombs, burials of the Xiongnu nobles contained only a handful of cups.90
Figure 6.11 Chinese red and black lacquered ear- handle cups with Chinese inscriptions of manufacture and Xiongnu tamga marks etched on underside, Tszurumte Tomb 1 Noyon Uul. National Museum of Mongolia.
186 Xiongnu Moreover, while service wares of the Xiongnu elite embraced a particular exotic flair, items for cooking and storage still adhered to Xiongnu traditions.91 Storage vessels in the tombs were the standard sort found in communities throughout Xiongnu realms—large broad-shouldered small-mouth jars with holes near the bottom for dispensing the foods within. Stews and drinks for the nobles were also prepared with long-handled ladles and the same broad bronze cauldrons used by elites throughout the empire.92 Thus, in the presence of steppe cauldrons, alongside steppe cauldrons brimming with large cuts of livestock meat, a few Han service wares would not have signaled any manner of acculturation toward Han society.93 Rather, such articles embodied the profitable connections retained by the elite hosts who possessed them, and, to the greater Xiongnu rulers, they represented the incorporation of Han resources into the folds of the steppe empire.94 Many of the cups and bowls interred within square tombs bore Chinese inscriptions verifying they were made in select imperial workshops of the Han and were worthy of the “imperial carriage”—in other words, fit for the Han rulers and their personal accoutrements.95 These cups, like the one from Shanglin Pleasure Park, were most likely gifts from the Han court to the chanyus and their noble entourages.96 Once these Han royal cups had been procured, the nomadic nobles often scratched tamga signs on the undersides as a way of marking ownership of the foreign wares and incorporating them into Xiongnu assemblages.97 Not all lacquered vessels acquired by the Xiongnu were etched with tamgas, and not all of them were manufactured in Han imperial workshops. Some appear to have been made in private Han workshops, suggesting other ways that the Xiongnu obtained such exotic items.98 The presence of lacquered cups at Han garrisons in Hexi borderlands as well as accounts of lacquered wares bought and sold at frontier markets like Juyan suggest commercial avenues for the exotic vessels to have made their way into the hands of steppe elites.99 Han lacquered cups and bowls were not limited to the nobles buried in square tombs, and fragments of lacquered cups and bowls have been found within numerous large circular graves throughout the Xiongnu realms.100 As such, they appear to have circulated among the lower elite ranks, disseminated most likely through a combination of commercial interactions and redistributive gifting. They were explicitly exotic augmentations to otherwise normal steppe accoutrements and ceremonies. Some bear standard blessing phrases for “sons and grandsons” of the kind placed on privately manufactured vessels.101 Others bear inscriptions not only of auspicious blessings for “receiving fortune” but also long inscriptions that indicate they were made in imperial workshops and fit for the Han emperor.102 The widespread consumption of Han cups by local elites shows that even some of the imperially gifted wares found their way through political networks of redistribution to the leaders of lesser hordes and households of the empire.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 187 Lacquered goods from China had already made their way into Xiongnu realms during the early era. But during the late first century bce, after the revival of the Xiongnu regime, the quantity and extent of their presence among steppe elites drastically increased. Perhaps due in large part to Xiongnu trade ventures as well as Han merchants, lacquered wares begun to move in greater numbers through Central Asian networks fostered by the economically aggressive empires.103 Hence, to the Xiongnu elites, these wares were less of specifically Han potency and more components of a globalized political culture spanning greater Eurasia and fueling their empire.104 Han bronze mirrors contributed to a similar phenomenon of globalized culture exploited by the Xiongnu. Nomadic nobles and local elites alike had numerous styles of intricately designed Han mirrors and offered fragments of these imported bronzes to their deceased.105 Steppe-style bronze mirrors, which were almost never interred with the deceased, were also never broken apart like their foreign counterparts.106 A reverence for and understanding of the detailed cosmological designs and motifs on Han mirrors did not appear to matter as much to the Xiongnu as did their explicitly exotic character. Pieces of Han mirrors were yet another token of connectivity to the far-reaching resources of the Xiongnu rulers and of the benefits of participation in the imperial network. Local elites in all parts of the empire brandished exotic stone, glass, bronze, and lacquer items in concerted efforts to emulate the reigning cosmopolitan nobles. And while goods from Han China made up the majority of foreign materials for the fortunes of Xiongnu elites, a number of other ornaments of personal attire demonstrate significant exchanges with peoples elsewhere in Eurasia. A wide variety of gold-infused, faience, and mosaic glass beads from as far away as Persia and the Mediterranean were worn by local elites of the steppe empire.107 Turquoise beads, for instance, were not a new phenomenon in the latter Xiongnu era and had even been worn by steppe elites in the centuries before the empire. But, like other imported materials, their quantity increased and styles greatly diversified starting in the late first century bce. Instead of rough pieces of turquoise added to necklaces or belt strings, belt clasps and buttons of the latter era were inlaid with shaped and polished stones set within gold designs (see Figure 6.1). Through the consumption of foreign raw materials and goods from an array of different lands, local leaders could boast access to the thriving continental trade facilitated in no small part by the Xiongnu rulers. Yet while most communities of the Mongolian steppe were linked into the imperial network, not all people in those communities were equally benefiting participants. Differentiations of access to outside wealth, and thereby of status within local communities, existed throughout the core Xiongnu realms and out to the fringes. At Shombuuzyn Belchir, a small western frontier community high up in the Altai Mountains, only the large high-ranking graves with fitted larch wood coffins,
188 Xiongnu some of which were nested in a chamber of cart pieces or ornamented with iron quatrefoils, contained exotic items like a lacquered cup or gilded glass beads.108 But most people buried in medium-sized graves had wood coffins pieced together from small branches of dry mountain foliage rather than assembled from broad planks of larch wood that must have been imported from other areas of the empire where coniferous forests grew. Nevertheless, the burials of these mid-level elites also had exotic items. A young woman of this frontier community, buried with her newborn child in a shallow grave, had fragments of two Chinese bronze mirrors and an Egyptian style faience bead adorning her ceramic beads necklace (Figure 6.12). People buried in small graves with stone cists, on the other hand, despite their privilege of being buried in a cemetery with more elevated local elites, were not granted exotic materials. None, except for silk. Hence, every person interred at the small site of Shombuuzyn Belchir—men and women, old and young, children and babies—were dressed in silk of some sort. Silk cloth was the most prized tribute which the court of the Han sent to the court of the Xiongnu and comprised the greatest portion of gifts bestowed.109 But it was not limited to the Xiongnu rulers. Silk pervaded all regions of the empire and was used even by people of relatively low-status communities. Silk textiles given by the Han court included a variety of patterned, embroidered, and multicolored silks, which were frequently added to garments and carpets of the steppe nobility (Figure 6.9).110 But not all silks were of the same
Figure 6.12 Bronze Chinese siru mirror fragment and Egyptian faience phallus bead, Grave 19 Shombuuzyn Belchir. National Museum of Mongolia.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 189 quality or grade. Among the repeated tribute gifts were hundreds to thousands of bolts of plain silk and heaps of silk batting that the Xiongnu could either consume or distribute as valued currency among the regional and local elites.111 And just as silks flowed in with Han tribute missions, they also poured into the steppe via markets at the southern frontier. Unearthed documents from Han garrisons in the desert provide accounts of plain silks, raw silks, and silk batting bought and sold at the markets where northerners came to trade their goods.112 While the nobles likely retained the more luxuriant tribute silks for their own accoutrements, plain silks and silk batting could have disseminated among local steppe communities, both through networks of redistribution from the nobles and from caravans returning from frontier markets. Multicolored and embroidered silks were items only for the uppermost elites of the empire. The ruling nobles endeavored to drive the demand for foreign materials like silk among local communities while still retaining regulations for the consumption of certain kinds or qualities of exotica that would reiterate distinctions of an ordered political hierarchy. Small communities like Shombuuzyn Belchir, on the other hand, demonstrate the more modest grades of silk consumed by the lowest social ranks of the Xiongnu. Thus, silk was widely circulated in the Xiongnu Empire but still appears to have been subjected to some proscriptions of distribution and consumption. Although it was certainly a highly valued material in economic transactions throughout the steppe, silk cloth appears to have been almost as widely consumed as woolen cloth by people in the Xiongnu realms. People throughout the steppe empire were laid to rest with garments of woven wool textiles and often with silk clothing as well.113 Wool felts and textiles were among the principal goods produced and distributed by steppe communities, just as silk textiles were made in most households of the Han. Local taxes as well as distant tribute came predominantly in the forms of sheep, pelts, and wool. Spindle whorls and needles at Xiongnu villages indicate that thread and cloth were an integral part of household production. Hence, the silk cloth that served for tax collection and elite garments in Han society was an ideal addition to the pastoral economic system of the Xiongnu. The imperial political economy was built on cloth, and silk was a foreign textile injected into a long-established and well-developed value system founded on wool products. Although many foreign materials were subjected to restrictions of consumption, Xiongnu rulers stood to gain greatly by fostering the widespread distribution of silk among all their constituents. Silk was already of lighter weight and greater cash value than dyed wool cloth “of the Hu” sold at Han frontier markets. By the time silk made its way into Xiongnu economic networks, it would have risen further in relative cost. But the greatest value of silk to a centrally controlled political economy for the empire was that it could not be produced within their
190 Xiongnu steppe communities. Frontier markets and tribute redistributions, all of which were controlled by the high Xiongnu nobility, were the only means of obtaining this valued cloth. Silk was transformed from a foreign luxury for elites into a widely distributed bulk luxury at the heart of the Xiongnu political economy.114 This was the nature and the advantage of a globalized political culture for the empire. The production of wealth, such as woolen textiles and bronze animal belt plates, within the Inner Asian steppe had grown too regionally entrenched for the ruling entities to maintain control. The Great Chiefs of the new Xiongnu regime thus steered political prestige ever more toward those materials that had to be obtained via the foreign trade, to which they controlled access. Through continued military and diplomatic exploits, the chanyu and his noble kings kept the trade routes and distant markets open, and promoted an increase in the influx of foreign materials. Silks abounded along with woolen textiles and colored felts of the Hu in the frontier markets, where livestock, grain, and slaves were traded in great amounts.115 As long as the Great Chiefs retained exclusive control over access to foreign markets and long-distance networks of exchange, their promotion of the consumption of exotic goods and styles would strengthen the dependency of local elites on the ruling nobility. The Great Chiefs had successfully rebranded their own upper ranks with cosmopolitan grandeur. They traveled with gilded-bronze ornamented vehicles and steeds decorated in silver and gold. Their abodes were decorated with embroidered Chinese silks and Persian tapestries, and they were laid to rest in deep nested chambers beneath prominent tomb mounds. Esteemed guests privileged enough to join their gatherings were served with lacquered and glass vessels from the far extremes of the continent. Their tribute and treasures came from subjugated kingdoms and allies throughout Eurasia. And as they retained exclusive arenas and consumed rare exotica, they also promoted broad consumption of foreign bulk luxuries. Xiongnu rulers were not only masters of the Inner Asian steppes; they were masters of an empire that enveloped continental worlds.116 Communities of the Empire The Xiongnu Empire, as any imperial entity, was a forceful regime with a voracious appetite. The political organism of hordes sought to channel vast continental resources into the hands of an exclusive nobility. Yet the benefits of integrating a growing corpus of contributing communities was offset by obligations to them. While local hordes provided the necessary mounted militia and pastoral products that fueled the empire, the Great Chiefs had to continually feed them from the imperial surplus. To ensure stable distribution as well as procurement of wealth, the Xiongnu maintained an ordered system in which local elites were well connected, even across long distances. The ever-growing corpus of archaeological remains throughout the Mongolian steppes demonstrates just such a robust
Masters of the Continental Worlds 191 hierarchical network of imperial leaders and locales that enveloped the steppe constituents. Realms of an empire like the Xiongnu consisted of more than just conquered tribes and kingdoms; they comprised a broad spectrum of individually affected and contributing communities. To best illustrate these building blocks of empire, one must consider each community (its constituent households and its leaders), where they stood within the political hierarchy, and what roles they played in resource acquisitions and distributions for the empire. The prevailing top-down approach, which highlights the royal rulers who dictated the movements of militia and resources, must be counterpoised with a bottom-up approach that underscores how local elites, through their maneuvers within a structured imperial network, facilitated supralocal operations. As the Xiongnu Empire continued through numerous generations, it had enduring effects upon many regions in Inner Asia. Yet local communities responded to and were affected by the empire in significantly different ways, exhibiting both continuity and discontinuity with organizational patterns of the societies that had preceded them.117 In some cases, local lineages may have retained power as they were folded into the regime, a pattern discernible via the continuation of Square Grave burial grounds by those identified as elites of the Xiongnu Empire. In other locales, however, just as the ritual practices and cultural materials of the Square Grave era were shed in favor of new traditions of the Xiongnu, so, too, were the burial grounds of the preceding prominent families abandoned. Although many local elite populations persisted within central and eastern Mongolia, by the Late Xiongnu era decades upon decades of intense interregional flows of goods and people, as well as ventures into ever-distant lands, caused these core realms to be inundated with new populations. Many of them were exploited for their labor, but some people who moved in took up ranks as local elites in the heart of the Xiongnu Empire.118 A discussion of the empire as a whole thus necessitates a consideration not only of the core domains of previously Square Grave groups from which the Xiongnu regime grew, but also of new territories into which the empire expanded. To collectively address developments across disparate regions of the empire, we must couch each participating community not only within the broader maneuvers of imperial rulers but, more importantly, within the dynamics of their own locales as well as their respective regions. To dissect the empire, we must speak not merely in terms of ruling kings versus local chiefs, but again take a nested approach that better accommodates the multi-scaled structure of the polity. As with the previous examination of communities during the early Xiongnu era, the following analysis of the Xiongnu Empire combines micro-scale studies of individuals and their locales, meso-scale studies of whole communities within regional realms, and macro-scale studies of realms within the greater polity.119
192 Xiongnu Elites, such as those at Burkhan Tolgoi in the core and Shombuuzyn Belchir in the west, were nodes of wealth for their respective locales, nodes that were connected with neighboring valleys via participating elites therein. Each node of elites retained structured power relations with others in their region, some possessing greater affiliation to imperial nobles than others. Each of these regions, whether forest steppe or dry mountains, had its particular resources and functions, and each retained regional rulers who in turn interacted with the reigning chiefs of other large domains. This political topography is manifested in a web of ritual sites for the local elite lineages, places where they buried and venerated their privileged members. Herder households of some communities migrated greater distances than others, but the leaders of each pastoral community, regardless of their circuits of mobility, maintained a cemetery that acted like an anchor, a geographic focus that structured the spatial organization of the pastoral landscape and in turn the domains of the empire as a whole.120 Some of these burial sites were larger than others, reflecting a greater number of affluent people or, depending on the chronological scope of the site, the longer staying power of that local lineage. Both facets may also have operated concurrently, but, in any case, the larger the cemetery the more well-established the local lineage it represented. The amount of wealth represented in these mortuary arenas—whether in livestock offerings, grave furnishings, or exotic accoutrements—varied between individuals just as they did between locales. Some had circular graves larger than others, and a handful of them had the esteemed square tombs of noble rank. Through detailed and multiscalar analyses of these variables of the archaeological record, the distribution and ranking of cemeteries hence may be used to assess the relative character and distribution of local elite constituencies who participated in the empire, thereby providing an intricate and robust view of the worlds of the Xiongnu. Local Nodes To understand the ways in which building blocks of the empire operated, we must begin with the lifeways of individual people, the social relationships between individuals, and the relations between household groups of individuals within a single locale. Communities of the Lower Egiin River Valley resided in mobile houses and herded livestock, as did most constituents of the Xiongnu Empire. In addition to products of terrestrial livestock—milk or meat—people living in the valley also consumed a variety of domesticated crops.121 While no permanent pit-house villages or farming tools have been found in the valley, the mobile households may still have engaged in the planting of crop fields for short- season harvesting.122 Within the valley, there were clear divisions between greater and lesser household groups, seen both at the places in which they lived and the places in which
Masters of the Continental Worlds 193 they were buried. Stone-marked burials distinguished members of the more affluent families, and variations in offerings and furnishings within the graves demonstrate further social differentiations between individual people living in the valley (Figure 6.13).123,124The highest of elites, represented by wealthy habitations or graves, may be the closest archaeological equivalent of chiefs and their households who constituted the bottom of the decimal political system. And, if so, these were the critical agents of the empire that would have managed the movements of local households and herds, collected resources for the greater chiefs (be those livestock or crops), and mustered mounted warriors for military operations. Among the dozen different burial sites in Lower Egiin, Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery was by far the largest. The more than one hundred graves stood as conspicuous statements of the leading lineage group, prominently placed in the open valley overlooking the river. As the site was completely excavated, the remains provide a rare prospection into a complete establishment of local elites who controlled an important node of the empire—of the close kin relations among them and the social dynamics between them.125 Members of close family groups tended to be placed within separate clusters of the site, but broad matrilineal relations appear to have been the link that joined all of them into a larger kin group.126 Their grave markings, funerary rituals, and sacrificial offerings accorded with the traditions stipulated for participants of the Xiongnu Empire, and the iron sun and moon pairs found in some of the burials reflect the adoption of symbols of the empire. Their most esteemed members emulated high Xiongnu nobility interred in square tombs by furnishing their own graves with fitted wood plank coffins that were decorated in lattice and quatrefoil ornaments and nested within wooden chambers. The greatest instances of livestock offerings, with one to two dozen animals sacrificed for the burial of a local elite, occurred in graves with nested wood coffins. And even though sacrificial offerings of livestock, as a significant demonstration of wealth and veneration, was not customary for all burials in the steppe empire, it was extremely prevalent among those at Burkhan Tolgoi, occurring regularly in large wood coffin graves as well as simpler stone cist or earthen pit burials.127 The frequency of Han materials or other exotica like turquoise-inlaid belt clasps demonstrated their access to far- distant resources distinctive of the globalized political culture of Xiongnu elites. Elites of both high and middle rank retained Chinese bronze mirrors and lacquered cups.128 All burials with such foreign goods had wooden coffins, some of which belonged to the upper elites who were honored by coffins decorated with iron lattice and quatrefoil pieces imitating the coffins of square tombs. People buried in simple stone cists or smaller marked graves did not possess any such foreign luxuries, though even these members of the community retained notable status in relation to others in
Figure 6.13 Lower Egiin River Valley with Xiongnu burials (circles) and ephemeral habitations (triangles). 1 Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery, 2 Baruun Belseg, 3 Kholtsot Nuga grave, 4 Khünkheriin Am, 5 Khanan Khad; 6 Kholtostyn Khürem walled site. Circle grave cemetery points scaled according to total number of burials at each site (1–100); ephemeral habitation points scaled according to breadth of artifact scatter (0.01–4.0 hectares).
Masters of the Continental Worlds 195 the valley, exhibited by their prevalence for livestock offerings and the privilege to be laid to rest within this cemetery of the leading local lineage. Those buried at Burkhan Tolgoi clearly retained imperial connections of a higher nature than others in the Lower Egiin Valley and were likely the mediators between local herder households and higher agents of the greater imperial network. Their burial ground was one of the only two places in the valley to contain multiple circular graves of the largest category (8–11 meters in diameter). Regardless of this elevated status in the Lower Egiin locale, these relatively elite people were still vulnerable to the stresses of livestock losses and food shortages.129 And they still engaged in battles, most likely on behalf of the empire, as evidenced by blade weapon cut marks on bones and possible marks of decapitation.130 The other large burial ground, at Baruun Belseg, sits further afield and is about half the size of Burkhan Tolgoi. This site of forty graves nonetheless contains the full spectrum of burials—from simple pits, to stone cists, to large graves with nested inner and outer coffins accompanied by offerings of several sacrificed livestock, pots and jars of food, and rib and vertebrae meat cuts with chopsticks for feasting.131 While these two large burial grounds may have been for different family groups, together they represent the most powerful people in the valley, all laid to rest within the same area along the river. Several small burial grounds of ten or fewer existed elsewhere along the river or up the ravines, perhaps pertaining to members of lesser kin groups of the valley. The site of Khanan Khad, for example, had only six medium graves, with one excavated burial yielding the remains of a young male with horse offerings and bone arrows and composite-bow plates.132 Some people buried in isolated graves who seem not to have been members of established lineages could, however, have held great status. The woman interred at Kholtost Nuga, for example, had a large wood plank coffin and a long chamber pit covered over by a disassembled wooden cart. She was laid to rest with fine jewelry such as gold earrings, given pots of food and large meat cuts with chopsticks for feasting, and offered the sacrificed heads of two horses, four cattle, and six sheep—a far greater number of offerings than most people had for their funerals.133 Although individuals such as this may have achieved great status, the size and contents of the major cemetery at Burkhan Tolgoi evidence that certain families, contrary to others, maintained a consistent hold on authority in the valley and any wealth or staple goods that flowed through. Habitation sites in the valley demonstrate a similarly hierarchical distribution of herder households and their encampments. Two large settlement areas lay at either end of the open valley, and additional small campsites occurred along the riverside and up the side valleys. The larger habitation sat at the major cruxes of movement—at the join of Egiin River with the greater Selenge River, and at the intersection of Egiin River with another pass venturing southwest toward the Selenge—and thus acted as focal points of control for the local elites.134
196 Xiongnu Clusters of smaller habitation sites also reveal distinct habitation areas of the greater valley.135 This may be a reflection of summer campsites that have larger aggregations of households versus winter campsites at spots up in ravines to which households dispersed in smaller groups.136 Communal gatherings of the Xiongnu were larger in the warmer months, especially “when the horses were fat.”137 Yet, even among the riverside campsites, there is a clear distinctions between large and small establishments. These larger areas of habitation, however, did not always coincide with larger areas for burying the dead. The largest expanse of campsites, more than 9 hectares spanning both riverbanks, lies far up river from Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery, and is accompanied by only a small burial ground. The other large settlement site, down river from Burkhan Tolgoi, has only two small burial sites nearby. But the remains of this large 4-hectare site include numerous pieces of larger than normal bowls, fragments of iron armor, and even a Han wuzhu coin.138 The riverside campsite near Burkhan Tolgoi was only slightly more than a hectare, but intensely occupied with almost a thousand potsherds and remains of a hearth with charred wheat grains.139 If this habitation belonged to the most prominent lineage whose members were interred at Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery, then the less affluent households had larger aggregations while the more elite households had smaller, perhaps more restricted, ones. Another relatively small yet intensely occupied campsite occurred upriver, in the vicinity of the elite woman of Kholtost Nuga. In addition to a scatter of pottery fragments like at other encampments, a deep (1.3-meter) pit filled with pieces of large storage jars and other wares; the bones of sheep, goats, cattle, horses, and fish; and charred wheat and barley grains. More importantly, only a couple kilometers away from this settlement is a walled site on a ridge overlooking the river that measures almost 200 meters wide and consisted of two attached enclosures.140 It is a complex with no interior architecture beyond the low earthen ramparts and no habitation remains within. However, some refuse in the surrounding trenches and at the edges of the interior include a broken Han mirror that suggests it was an enclosure used for special ceremonies, perhaps analogous to the more embellished enclosures with platforms erected for the Xiongnu rulers. If the double enclosure was a space for exclusive activities, then the related encampment may have been purposefully set away from it.141 The most elite sites of the valley—a cemetery with a hundred graves and a large earthen wall enclosure—were accompanied by habitation sites that were less extensive yet more intensive than other riverside encampments. This archaeologically discernible pattern of significant social hierarchy within a singular locale recurred throughout the core realms of the Xiongnu. In dry stretches of the Altai and Gobi, where herders had to move across far greater migratory circuits, pasturing hot spots and nexuses of routes became epicenters for a multitude of household enclaves.142 The craggy granite outcrop of Baga
Masters of the Continental Worlds 197 Gazaryn Chuluu, for example, constituted an area with ample water supply spanning almost 10 kilometers wide amid an open expanse of desert steppe.143 Over a dozen small burial grounds, each with fewer than twenty graves and often only a couple, were set along the edges of the granite outcrop. Yet two major cemeteries, each with dozens of burials, demonstrate social differentiation among the communities and the presence of core lineages who maintained authority at this locale. Although there were more burial grounds here than at Lower Egiin, habitations at Baga Gazaryn Chuluu were fewer and sparser. Herders may have occupied this locale only during part of the year, when they came together from more distant pastures and conducted rituals such as laying to rest their esteemed members. Hence, it likely functioned as a seasonal pasture as well as a symbolic center that tethered numerous elite lineages to a common mooring in the broad landscape of nomadic households.144 Both Baga Gazaryn Chuluu and Lower Egiin River demonstrate the maintenance of certain elite lineages within their locales via their affiliation with Xiongnu nobility but also show how such locales functioned as nodes of greater regions. Regional Networks Elites of the Lower Egiin constituted one of several political nodes for the Xiongnu Empire in the Central Selenge region, and they appear to have achieved greater prominence than those in nearby valleys. They controlled a crux of key routes moving along two major rivers—the winding Egiin River stretching northward into the forest steppe frontier of Khövsgöl and the long Selenge River that linked Lake Baikal with the verdant valleys of the Khangai Mountains. From the mouth of the Egiin almost 60 kilometers eastward down the Selenge River was a royal cemetery of more than two hundred square tombs. Egiin thus served as an ideal mooring of social interaction as well as economic exchange—of livestock and pastoral products but likely also crops and foreign goods—that stood along major routes of the empire, connecting the strongholds of the Great Chiefs and the lesser communities afield.145 As the Xiongnu Empire grew, herder campsites of Egiin grew to a far greater intensity, up to five times as large.146 Valleys to the immediate north, south, and west had cemeteries indicative of some participant Xiongnu elites, but only with a handful of sites far smaller than Burkhan Tolgoi. Local elites may often have remained in control of individual valleys and been the architects of local political growth, as seen through the perpetuation of ritual landscapes from preceding eras into the era of the Xiongnu Empire.147 Only some locales and their leading communities appear to have benefited greatly from participation in the Xiongnu network. Others appear to have beyond the folds of the regime. However, within the core Xiongnu realms, this may have been a consequence of regional dynamics already at play in the generations before the empire.
198 Xiongnu In Tarvagtai Valley to the immediate north of Lower Egiin, when Square Grave elites had grown in power across the Mongolian grasslands, the affluence of local herders in this area diminished and no conspicuous cemeteries were constructed for local lineages. During the Xiongnu era, herder campsites had pottery and other materials indicative of communities affiliated with Xiongnu culture and society. Nevertheless, no conspicuous Xiongnu cemeteries were established.148 Such locales appear to have been devoid of elites who participated in the Xiongnu imperial network, further demonstrating that each of the many valleys and herder communities in the Xiongnu realms was differently affected by the growth of the empire. While habitation sites in Tarvagtai increased in size during the Xiongnu era as they did in Lower Egiin, communities in the more distant Targan area near Lake Khövsgöl did not flourish to the same degree. Some pottery of Xiongnu style was found in the area, but there seems to have been no surge of populations in the Darhad Depression. In fact, the number and density of campsites drastically decreased.149 Just as some locales came to be occupied by greater numbers of households during the Xiongnu era, others seem to have diminished, especially those beyond the direct control of agents of the empire. Throughout central Mongolia, the Xiongnu took over networks established by preceding Square Grave elites, assembling a series of regional conglomerates into a unified imperial core.150 Most nodes of regional Square Grave elites were transformed into nodes of the ever-growing supraregional empire, exemplified by well over a hundred cemeteries of Xiongnu style circular grave cemeteries spanning the Mongolian grasslands. But as regions were amalgamated into larger domains, certain elite factions rose to even greater prominence than their proximate counterparts. Such was the case with Lower Egiin, where an elite lineage centered at Burkhan Tolgoi became one of the most dominant groups within the Central Selenge region. They established a new burial ground for their venerated members, but one still within the vicinity of the square graves of preceding elites, revealing both a conscious break with the previous leaders while still expressing a legitimacy continued from their leadership. This duality of continuity and discontinuity with the prior ritual landscape suggests that local elite groups were the prime agents of change in the process of Lower Egiin integrating into the Xiongnu Empire.151 However, regional elites in some other locales who demonstrated an extreme break with previous ritual landscapes nonetheless rose even higher to become supraregional nodes of the empire. Not every instance of growth in power was necessarily the result of local elites acting as the primary agents of change. Khanuy Valley had boasted some of the largest ritual complexes in Mongolia for pastoral groups of the late second to early first millennium bce, and the affluence of local lineages continued in the following centuries with the erection of large square graves.152 By the close of the first millennium bce, the valley was home
Masters of the Continental Worlds 199 to royal nobles, perhaps even chanyu rulers, laid to rest in ostentatious square- mounded tombs at Gol Mod II cemetery. This massive burial ground was set far away from the preceding monuments of the open valley and tucked within the surrounding low mountains.153 By considering the communities of Lower Egiin in the larger context of the middle Selenge region—in contrast both to locales of lesser political significance (i.e., with only a few circular graves) as well as greater political power (e.g., the nearby square tombs site with over two hundred burials)—we gain a far better understanding of hierarchies within a whole region of the empire, within which locales like Lower Egiin were nested. Archaeological surveys of whole counties (sums) in Mongolia continue to demonstrate extreme regional-scale hierarchies during the Xiongnu era. In grasslands east of the Khangai (Bayan-Öndör sum), well over half of the documented Xiongnu graves were found in one of the seven sites.154 In South Gobi (Bulgan sum), a similar pattern appears, where almost two-thirds of the documented Xiongnu graves are found at one of the four scattered sites.155 In the eastern Mongolian steppe (Tüvshinshiree sum), intensive surveys have documented numerous sites and of far larger size but with a similar pattern of a steep hierarchy among the locales of Xiongnu elites.156 Detailed attention to individual valleys or oases helps us understand how communities of the empire operated. But to understand the full spectrum of participating communities, we must also look beyond single locales. We must consider the extremes of imperial communities and imperial transformations. While the Xiongnu, in many instances, appear to have repurposed the existing nodes and networks of the Square Grave elites, the political landscape of the empire was not merely a reproduction of what came before in Inner Asia. Often, locales of seemingly equal power before the empire subsequently became nodes of extremely different ranking under the Xiongnu regime. Some locales diminished while others became centers for imperial nobles. When comparing locales within and across regions, we see that many communities had significantly different trajectories in the process of empire building. Continuity of ritual settings may demonstrate preservation of local lineages in the process of integration, whereas elites who labored to express discontinuity with previous sacred spaces may have been members of new lineages established with the authority of the Xiongnu rulers to control a particular locale or region. These developments not only could vary from place to place, but they were often the outcome of multiple agents of change with different degrees of impact. To understand the intricacies of Xiongnu political developments, we must engage in more than just comparisons of disparate locales. We must examine entire regions and the varied trajectories of and relationships between their collective locales.
200 Xiongnu If we are to understand the empire in its entirety, we must also direct inquiries outside core areas of the Xiongnu, like Lower Egiin and Baga Gazaryn Chuluu, toward peripheral areas where imperial transformations were most dynamic. The Xiongnu imperial heartland was more or less the realm of those who had been Square Grave elites. But what of other areas into which the imperial regime expanded? If the Xiongnu drew strength from the already established regional networks of Square Grave elites in the Mongolian grasslands, then how might we address Xiongnu realms outside of Square Grave territories? How might we explain those which did not have the same kinds of underlying political developments of the first millennium bce? Although imperial presence in outlying territories seems stretched thin, many of the strategies of imperial cohesion implemented in the core realms were replicated within realms of new expansion. These strategies often created more radical transformations among the peripheral locales affected by the empire. The Western Frontier The Xiongnu cultivated a hierarchical system of participating elites who maintained the nodes and connections necessary for the supraregional empire. The Great Chiefs then expanded this matrix into new realms, especially those stretching westward. Throughout the western frontier, the manifold order of Xiongnu chiefs was reinforced through proscriptions of elite garments and conduct at social gatherings, but it was also boldly pronounced by a topography of ritual centers. The furthest extents of Xiongnu participant elites were those straddling the southern Altai Mountains, amid dry steppe corridors and alpine passes. These routes served as vital avenues of resource extraction for rulers seated in the Mongolian grasslands, reaching toward the flourishing trade hubs of Central Asia.157 The Tsenkher River pass through the Altai Mountains was a particularly important route at the edge of the empire. Here, the Xiongnu incorporated a series of localities spanning the pass, including one small local elite establishment at Shombuuzyn Belchir and one noble enclave at the eastern entry of the pass, centered at Takhiltyn Khotgor.158 The frontier nobles who were interred in square tombs at Takhiltyn Khotgor wholly observed the material standards and ritual practices of Xiongnu nobles in the core of the empire. Their tombs were smaller overall, but on par with the numerous small square tombs at sites like Gol Mod II. Only such lesser nobles existed in this frontier enclave, none of the Great Chiefs or other high nobles who were laid to rest in the more massive square tombs. Along with these lower ranking imperial nobles were buried high-ranking local elites, many of whom had graves as large and well-furnished even if they were not of the standard square tomb form permitted for the nobles. Near Takhiltyn Khotogor were three small burial grounds, all with large circular
Masters of the Continental Worlds 201 graves. Any of the Xiongnu nobility vested in this far western locale had to contend with members of local lineages who had become affiliates of the Xiongnu Empire, many of whom may have boasted equal power through large burials, even if they were not the square tombs exclusive to nobles.159 Nevertheless, the nobles of Takhiltyn Khotgor constituted a strong arm of the empire, categorically distinct from the other provincial elites. Some elite groups appear to be continuations of local factions while others were clear breaks from preceding leadership. Cemeteries up in the mountains, like Aduuchyn Am, were clusters of Xiongnu graves set directly beside plots of preceding Bronze Age monuments, whereas other cemeteries like Shombuuzyn Belchir were placed in secluded niches away from the open valley of Bronze Age monuments. In either case, they made up a series of elite nodes with control over local grazing lands who now derived their authority from the Xiongnu nobles, who retained a seat of power at Takhiltyn Khotgor. Each of the smaller elite nodes seated within the Altai pass had burial grounds of only a few dozen graves, none of which measured up to the large circular graves of Takhiltyn Khotgor area.160 A good number of circular graves at Shombuuzyn Belchir yielded wood plank coffins and exotic goods, demonstrating elites in these far-flung niches who engaged with the long-distance trade facilitated by the Xiongnu regime and strove to adhere to Xiongnu elite political culture.161 This structured regional hierarchy was a profoundly new development for communities of the southern Altai. While those at Takhiltyn Khotgor and Shombuuzyn Belchir held radically different status during the Xiongnu regime, the projected power of leaders in the two places had not always been so imbalanced. During the late second to early first millennium bce, the number, form, and scale of ritual monuments for leaders at these locales were relatively equivalent. Only during the Xiongnu era, as this region was incorporated into the hierarchical order of a vast empire, was their regional relationship reconfigured toward such a discrepancy in power. During the course of the long first millennium bce, regional consolidations of power, with particular locales rising over others, occurred throughout central Mongolia under lineages of Square Grave elites and under kingly leaders in the Sayan and Altai regions of the northwest. But locales of the Tsenkher River area, where nodes like Shombuuzyn Belchir and Takhiltyn Khotgor arose, have no monuments contemporaneous with those of the central Mongolian grasslands or the northern Altai. Rather than an era of power consolidation and growing elite dominions that occurred elsewhere, the southern Altai and western Gobi seem to exhibit a political power vacuum during the centuries before the rise of the Xiongnu.162 Thus, the integration of local pastoral communities and leaderships into the Xiongnu Empire may have entailed a more dynamic process of reconfiguration as the Great Chiefs drove local factions to intermix with immigrating Xiongnu elites and adapt to supraregional systems of the Xiongnu. They were
202 Xiongnu transformed into political components of a far larger entity nested within the steppe imperial network. Genetic studies of individuals from the sites of Takhiltyn Khotgor and Shombuuzyn Belchir show the degree to which people from core Xiongnu realms were part of the process of expansion and integration of such western peripheries.163 The two noble women interred in square tombs at Takhiltyn Khotgor (THL-64 and THL-82) were related to populations in the central and southern Mongolian grasslands and not to the Central Asian populations that had dominated the Altai. However, the men who accompanied these Xiongnu nobles and were buried in shallow pits flanking the large square tombs were unrelated to the elite women. Moreover, these low-status people were related to populations from all over Eurasia—some from the Mongolian grasslands and others from Central or West Asia. The small community of elites up at Shombuuzyn Belchir also exhibited a mixture of populations. Roughly half of the analyzed individuals were related to Mongolian steppe populations, while the other half were closer to Central Asian populations. As Shombuuzyn Belchir burial ground was not set within or abutting a previous Bronze Age ritual site, as Aduuchyn Am was, this may reflect the more intrusive makeup of Shombuuzyn Belchir elites who were distinct from existing southern Altai populations. The pattern of mixture goes even further to show that those from central Mongolia tended to be women and to be buried in wood plank coffins that emulated core Xiongnu elites, while those more akin to Central Asian and other local populations tended to be men and to be buried in simpler stone cists. Together, the findings from these two cemeteries show that constituents from the core realms in central Mongolia moved, or were moved, into far western territories to become leading members of the local and regional nodes of Xiongnu power in the frontier. Whereas historical records abound with men in roles of Kings, Chiefs, and Chanyus, this archaeological evidence is critical for highlighting women as key agents in expansions of the empire, as well as nodes of wealth and social power in Xiongnu society.164 Within the region of the southern Altai, elites of Takhiltyn Khotgor clearly stood at the highest level of the expansive imperial network, perhaps comprised primarily of members of the Xiongnu nobility who expanded out from central Mongolia. Elites seated in a handful of locales about a hundred kilometers away from Takhiltyn Khotgor also constituted substantial nodes of the larger region.165 The circular grave burial grounds for these constituencies were significantly larger than those of the Tsenkher River pass, double or triple the size of sites like Shombuuzyn Belchir. The greater number of burials in these places suggests more well-established lineages participating in the Xiongnu Empire. Nevertheless, elites there were venerated with graves of roughly the same size as elsewhere. Only the non-royal elites of Takhiltyn Khotgor area warranted
Masters of the Continental Worlds 203 circular graves of the largest category.166 These sites may have been the centers of elites with higher ranking than sites like Shombuuzyn Belchir and Aduuchyn Am and probably belonged to domains separate from the Tsenkher River area. But these local elite establishments were still under the authority of the Great Chiefs, represented most notably by people of noble lineages on the other side of the mountain pass at Takhiltyn Khotgor. Further along these southern stretches of the Altai, and reaching into the Gobi Desert, another multitiered topography of sites pronounced a similar nested order of elites who commanded territories on behalf of the Xiongnu. Within this Gobi-Altai region of more than 40,000 square kilometers, there stood but one enclave of Xiongnu nobility anchored at the square tomb cemetery of Ovoon Khar.167 Like Takhiltyn Khotgor, the square tombs and circular graves at this site exhibited a tension between those of noble and non-noble status. But the vigor of Xiongnu nobility at this regional node appears more limited. Fewer than a quarter of the burials at Ovoon Khar were square tombs, and several of the circular graves were larger than any of the square tombs.168 A similar noble enclave occurred in the far northwestern fringe of the empire, at the square tomb cemetery of Bai Dag II in the Upper Yenesei Valley. This burial ground also had but a handful of square tombs set within a site of mostly circular graves, some of which were larger than the square tombs.169 Rather than establishing wholly new enclaves dominated by immigrating nobles, members of Xiongnu nobility in these two frontier areas may have been more heavily incorporated into prominent local lineages than at places like Takhiltyn Khotgor. For the Gobi-Altai region, not only was Ovoon Khar cemetery half the size of the noble cemetery at Takhiltyn Khotgor, it was the same size or smaller than the other large cemeteries of Xiongnu elites in the vicinity.170 The locale of Ovoon Khar, centered around a small lake to the east, had been a relatively less significant regional center in previous periods, with fewer monuments than other locales in the Gobi-Altai. This drastic shift in power disparity before and after Xiongnu conquests may relate to the networks needs of restructuring as the region was incorporated into the greater empire. The location of the lake along the river course and northern mountain corridor, as well as its proximity to both the Khangai and Gobi-Altai, would have been a spatially ideal node for Xiongnu nobles who sought to exert broad influence over this frontier and maintain the networks connecting it to the core realms. Although a seeming lack of square tomb sites in the southern ranges of the Gobi-Altai, far from Ovoon Khar or Takhiltyn Khotgor, suggests there were no noble establishments there, the craggy outcrops of Tsagaan Gol bear a plethora of royal tamgas (see Figure 6.6 and Figure 6.14[12]). The abundance of tamga marks rendered in different fashions further suggests repeated visits to this spot by hordes of Xiongnu nobles. It was centrally located near the crossroads of mountain corridors connecting the Sayan-Altai to the Tian Shan and the Hexi
Figure 6.14 Western realms of the Xiongnu Empire. 1 Takhiltyn Khotgor, 2 Shombuuzyn Belchir, 3 Avyn Khökh Uul, 4 Yamaan Us, 5 Ovoon Khar, 6 Yamaan Us and Shurgyn Gol, 7 Elst Tolgoi and Del Ulaan, 8 Khirgist Khooloi, 9 Oloon Nuur, 10 Shavgat Nuur and Khalzan Khoshuu, 11 Baishin Uzuur and Doloot, 12 Tsagaan Gol, 13 Shaakhar Tolgoi. Circle grave and square tomb sites scaled according to total number of burials, 10–100 and 40–400, respectively.
Masters of the Continental Worlds 205 Corridor, and hence a critical artery for the empire. Ritually charged ceremonies incorporating the physical marking of the landscape would have served to reify imperial power in this pivotal place. Square tomb cemeteries and tamga carving sites acted together as nodes of ritual activity for nobles of the Xiongu Empire and as complementary demonstrations of Xiongnu sovereignty. Several circular grave burial sites had much more significant presence than even Ovoon Khar in the political landscape of the Gobi-Altai. The collective burials around Elst Tolgoi exhibit a far greater number of Xiongnu-affiliated elites, even if most of them were interred in small to medium sized circular graves. During the early first millennium bce, this locale along the Zavkhan Floodplain boasted the largest and greatest number of ritual monuments. In the Xiongnu era, it continued to be one the most prominent places in the region, perhaps as a continuation of its existing flourishing pastoral communities and perhaps in part due to the arable potential of the floodplain around Elst Tolgoi, where remnants of crop grains and farming tools evidence engagements in agricultural production.171 Two other major nodes of the Gobi-Altai were seated within the same southern ranges as Tsagaan Gol and over a hundred kilometers away from the noble cemetery at Ovoon Khar. One node at Olon Nuur was roughly the same size as Ovoon Khar and Elst Tolgoi and hence about the same as the large nodes within reach of Takhiltyn Khotgor. These centers of well-established lineages would have been critical for managing the large region on behalf of the Xiongnu. The other node at Khirgist Khooloi had the largest Xiongnu cemetery in the Gobi-Altai region. Whereas all other cemeteries were limited to mostly small and medium sized burials, this site had numerous elites so prestigious that they were interred in the largest of circular graves.172 This could be because, during the centuries before the Xiongnu, Khirgist Khooloi was one of the only places in the vast stretches of the Altai ranges to have been a center of Square Grave elites, linking this western locale with cohesive networks in central and eastern Mongolia. Its prominence in the Gobi-Altai might therefore stem from the early eras, when the matrix of Slab Grave elites served as the foundation for the matrix of the Xiongnu Empire. Yet elites of Khirgist Khooloi, like those of Shombuuzyn Belchir, established their own burial grounds up in secluded foothills and far from those of the preceding Square Grave elites up river. This sort of ritual site, set clearly apart from all others, very likely demonstrates the rise of new lineages within locales incorporated into the empire.173 They often had far larger burial grounds than their peer elites, showing that they became well-established leaders through the course of their allegiance to and participation in the Xiongnu regime. Other burial grounds like Shakhar Tolgoi reveal some continuation of power for local groups, as the handful of circular graves were embedded within the burial site of preceding Bronze Age monuments.174 However, these kinds of elite
206 Xiongnu groups often had far smaller burial grounds, showing also that they were not as affluent as those groups who established themselves anew under the Xiongnu regime. In this spectrum between preserved local lineages who had minimal power and newly founded lineages with far greater power, most local elite constituencies of the Xiongnu exhibited a balance between political continuity and discontinuity and a mixture of preexisting and new sacred sites.175 The large cemetery of Elst Tolgoi stood as a center of Xiongnu elite ritual gatherings for the greater Zavkhan Floodplain, a crux of interaction drawing from a broad expanse of pastoral circuits. But it was placed beside the long-revered peak of Zürkh Uul only a couple kilometers over from several sites of Bronze Age monuments that also flanked the sacred peak. Roughly 10 kilometers west stands another low peak flanked by Bronze Age monuments and set with a separate Xiongnu burial ground, Del Ulaan, that was still embedded within the same sacred location.176 The handful of other Xiongnu elite burial grounds were scattered sparsely across the mountain corridor, all of them with very small plots set very close to or among the monuments of preceding groups. Of those few locales that continued to be nodes of power under the new regime, most of the elite groups there who acted as agents of the Xiongnu Empire in the Gobi-Altai appear to have been continuations of local groups. But they also tended to be the less powerful elite constituencies of the region. Some small sites in the western frontier, like Shombuuzyn Belchir, show evidence of being infiltrated by elites from the core, perhaps through long-distance marriage links. And it was the larger nodes of authority for the Xiongnu that exhibited greater degrees of discontinuity with groups of the preceding Bronze Age. While the Zavkhan Floodplain had been a center of incomparable power during the early first millennium bce, it became one of three equal regional nodes under the Xiongnu regime, on par with locales further south that had previously been far less imposing. The one noble center of Xiongnu control in the Gobi-Altai was established at a relatively minor locale, but it became a conspicuous seat of Xiongnu royal power in the frontier realm. The Xiongnu concentrated large-scale regional authority into the hands of fewer elite groups than before and, in the process, radically reconfigured regional power dynamics. To understand how the building blocks of herder communities coalesced into the structure of empire, individual locales must be contextualized within a robust picture of regional configurations and supra-regional developments. The Xiongnu polity was more than a heterarchical confederate conglomeration, and it was more than a collection of noble enclaves. Neither can it be described through singular valleys extrapolated to a scale-free whole. Just as the empire relied on a nested hierarchy of elites, so should we approach the collective archaeological sites and their remains in a nested fashion. Thus can we better deduce how Xiongnu nobles, embodied by square tomb cemeteries, acted as regional
Masters of the Continental Worlds 207 lords of large domains and, in turn, how each noble faction in distinct domains was connected to each other to create a singular supraregional regime. Through this scheme, the dynamics of empire pan further and further out to reveal a vast integrated whole. The Imperial Matrix The Xiongnu Empire was more than a confederacy of chiefs. It was a hierarchically structured web of localized leaders who acted as agents of noble hordes and their rulers. By the end of the first century bce, the imperial network had reemerged as even more cohesive than before. Participating elites adhered more closely to a code of political culture, one that fostered strong relations across distant realms and that pronounced qualitative distinctions between political echelons. To illustrate how this political matrix functioned, we have examined so far how elites at all levels in all regions facilitated operations of a centralized regime. Rather than reproducing a paradigmatic territory of a singular core with concentric peripheries and clear borders, a model that fits neither this nor most other empires, this final examination of the Xiongnu Empire presents the polity as a network of varying relationships among participating members. It attends not simply to the more obvious built components of the political landscape, namely of tombs, temples, or palaces of a polity,177 but more so to the topography of pathways of political operations and of relations of political power—that is, the politicography of the empire. The empire of the Xiongnu was not a contiguous sovereign territory. Like most empires, it encompassed seemingly empty spaces and far-flung islands of authority that comprised a collective patchwork domain.178 Yet, unlike other regimes, such as the Han, the Xiongnu rulers did not concern themselves as much with governing every corner of territory. Rather than exerting efforts to centrally direct all people and places under their reins in a traditional bureaucratic fashion, the Great Chiefs instead cultivated an expansive yet focused network that could facilitate efficient flows of resources, be they material or human capital. Hence, only by plotting the nomadic empire as a collection of political nodes, rather than an accretion of bounded territories, may we illustrate its mottled topography of hubs and courses. Nodes of the empire comprised elites who recognized the authority of the Great Chiefs, manifested in their adherence to codified traditions of political culture. The power of the Xiongnu was enacted through these agents and the network they comprised.179 By harnessing the already existing high mobility among herder households and individuals on horseback, the Xiongnu fostered a release from proximity as the qualifier for community enterprises or interaction among agents of the empire.180 Social proximity was not dependent on spatial proximity, and geographical distance was not the same as social distance. Space was therefore not
208 Xiongnu always an obstacle to a cohesive political matrix.181 Imperially sanctioned chiefs and their influential lineages were able to reach across broader territories to other members of the political network and exert authority over even larger domains. Households within spatially circumscribed areas of migratory circuits were surely more engrossed in interactions with their herds, hordes, and chiefs than with constituents or agents further afield. But less frequently engaged connections of political affiliation between non-proximal nodes of the network, while categorically different from more quotidian interactions, were equally important to operations and overall cohesion in the empire.182 If we view the projected spaces of the empire foremost as a product of social constructs,183 then a handful of spatially distant nodes across disparate regions may become a socially clustered hub of a vast regional network. If we are to evaluate the structure and cohesion of the Xiongnu Empire, we must examine social as well as spatial topographies. The corpus of archaeological remains for the Xiongnu—comprised by and large of burial grounds that are only partially excavated, and rarely of habitations, workshops, or ritual buildings—make the formulation of statistically grounded graphs of social topography for the empire highly problematic.184 Nevertheless, we may still discuss the imperial matrix with more than metaphorical usages of nodes and networks. The following discussion employs the variables and terms particular to formal network analyses in order to examine general patterns and regional intimations among the archaeological remains of the Xiongnu. This allows us to examine different facets of densities and centralities of power, a necessary approach for demonstrating the resilience and agility of empires such as the Xiongnu, which are too often disqualified as weak and incohesive. With attention to different scales of clustering and manners of connections between clusters intrinsic to networks analyses, we are able to make use of the already discussed multiscalar perspective and nested approach for the empire (Figure 6.4). A spatially minded networks thinking might look first at the density and concentrations of nodes within different parts of the empire. In this case, nodes of elites who participated in the Xiongnu regime during the later era existed only within the Inner Asian steppes and did not expand into North China, the Western Regions, or Central Asia. All of these were areas in which the Xiongnu exerted intermittent dominance, but they were not integrated into the network of imperial agents. And given the highly combative and fluctuating nature of that frontier, it is no surprise to find a drastic decrease in both Han colonies and Xiongnu elites throughout the region.185 The densest concentration of nodes, and also the largest nodes, lie within the steppes of central Mongolia. These areas were already woven together by networks of Slab Grave elites, but they were also ideal seats of power and centers of operation for an empire. They provided a great range of natural resources, including higher-quality pastures and intermittent forests, and the potential for a variety of
Masters of the Continental Worlds 209 subsistence endeavors, including agricultural as well as pastoral products, that bolstered the political economy. In both the eastern fringes and western frontiers, occasional larger nodes and hot spots of site density occurred, often fixed at crossroads and moorings that were ideal for controlling the movements of resources. These most often comprised locally derived or localized elites, represented by circular grave cemeteries. But the presence of square tomb cemeteries and tamga engravings also evidence an insertion of noble enclaves and royal horde operations into such regions of imperial expansion. The spatial density of sites in the western provinces of the Xiongnu Empire, for example, was far less than that of the core grasslands, with large areas unoccupied by agents of the empire. This may, in part, be a consequence of the sparser grasslands and broader migratory circuits for pastoral communities in the Gobi and Altai. Yet it may also have been part of the strategy of the Xiongnu for expansion into new provinces. Thicker connections between socially closer nodes of a network, once mapped onto the physical landscape, can actually span some of the longest spatial distances.186 The Xiongnu needed only to maintain a high degree of social connectivity through normalized cultural traditions and itinerant hordes amassing great social capital to incorporate large new regions into the empire. The imperial matrix exhibited multiple forms of social centrality that enhanced its cohesion and operations.187 Although some regions had a greater spatial density of sites, all corners of the empire retained nodes socially central to the empire. These had a high degree of connections to other nodes both within their spatial clusters and outside and were thus cruxes of regional activity and pivotal links to other noble nomads and their respective domains.188 In the Gobi-Altai, Elst Tolgoi, and Khirgist Khooloi constituted the most prominent elite groups. Chiefs of these communities would have controlled wealth distributions, pasture usage, and mounted militia of herder households residing within a broad range of foothills and sparse grasslands of the desert mountain areas. Their encampments and ritual places would have been nexuses of grand activities and regular interactions with lesser elites and the host of more modest herder groups for dozens of kilometers around them. As such, they represented nodes of high centrality for their regionalized cluster of interacting communities; not so much as central places but more as nodes of central people and operations that were not restricted to single sites.189 But nodes with high degree-centrality are such not just because of their physical size but because of the number of links they have. Large sites with many circular graves were not the only key nodes of the empire, and having a high number of total links does not mean that a node is well-connected in terms of the network as a whole.190 As individual clusters, both spatially and socially distinct, coalesced further into a sturdy large-scale imperial network, there emerged nodes that were
210 Xiongnu central in their capacity as social crossroads between clusters. These nodes of high betweenness-centrality were often not the same nodes that retained high degree-centrality within their respective clusters. Even though they may have been weakly connected within their own clusters or across to other clusters, they retained great strength for the overall network, acting as the key linchpins that transformed disparate realms into a small world of greater cohesion.191 Within the Gobi-Altai, Ovoon Khar included some members of the Xiongnu nobility interred in square tombs. Yet this group of elites was small and situated at a locale that had for centuries been of far lesser prominence than Elst Tolgoi and others in the region. Ovoon Khar elites may not have had as high degree of regular interactions with regional herder groups as did those of Khirgist Khooloi, but they retained close exclusive ties with other distant noble enclaves like Takhiltyn Khotgor. Hence, this small elite group possessed great betweenness- centrality in its intense connection to both regionally central nodes and to other noble enclaves in the western frontier as well as in the core of the empire at places like Gol Mod II and Noyon Uul. The center of an entire network may consist of nodes that have a lesser number of direct connections than those with high centrality within the various clusters. By way of their social positioning in numerous cross-lines of connectivity, however, they retain greater overall closeness to all of the nodes of a network. Whereas elites of Khirgist Khooloi, Burkhan Tolgoi, and Baga Gazaryn Chuluu may have retained a high closeness to many other local leaders of the empire, such socially central nodes did not constitute the real heart of the imperial network. Nodes with the greatest power in a network become so not by accumulating direct connections to as many nodes as possible but by concentrating on connectivity with nodes that have a high degree of centrality in their respective clusters. A small collection of nodes may therefore exert great influence over a large network simply by making connections to high-ranking nodes in various hubs of a network and amassing great social capital by association. The Xiongnu Empire was an immense network formed from local elites— newly established and long-established—all of whom retained relatively close social connections with other pastoral communities and their enclaves. But just as some nodes within discrete hubs retained greater centrality than their peers, other nodes spread across the imperial network collectively exerted even greater influence by strategically exploiting specific nodes of high degree-, betweenness- , and closeness-centralities. This political core of nodes may have been different from the collection of nodes situated at the heart of flows and interactions in distinct domains, but they nonetheless were able to act as the heart of the greater network to command the flows of resources toward their exclusive benefit. In this fashion, the seemingly thin and dispersed political core of Great Chiefs commanded a swath of participating and contributing constituents by socially
Masters of the Continental Worlds 211 surrounding themselves with well-connected regional elite factions who in turn were connected to key local agents. Conventional notions render ruling echelons as confined within central metropoles.192 These pretenses have dominated research inquiries into many empires through their endeavors to locate and delineate capitals as single imperial hearts, like Rome. For the Xiongnu Empire, this has produced countless searches for the so-called capital of Long-cheng.193 Monumental walled enclosures with rare cosmopolitan architecture spanning stretches of more than a hundred kilometers along the Kherlen and the Orkhon and Tamir Rivers could have functioned as such imperial loci, perhaps like the extended Land Between the Passes district in which the Han capital of Chang’an and its pleasure parks expanded. But these areas were nowhere near as densely built up, and, more importantly there was more than one such expanse of scattered sites, not a singular capital-style district. And while the greater Chang’an region contained numerous royal tomb complexes of the emperors as well as a walled capital city, there were no square tomb burial grounds within or near to the Xiongnu expanses of walled enclosures. Most cemeteries in those areas were small circular grave sites. As outlined above, the social heart of a network is not confined to spatial centrality. Any search for the heart of imperial authority and activity in the Xiongnu Empire must come to terms with a polity that was spatially dispersed and disjointed yet socially cohesive. The Great Chiefs and their chanyu would have utilized multiple permanent locales for their focal points of performances and operations of rule. Their horde establishments at such places surely included the kinds of vaulted felt tents mentioned in Chinese accounts and the kinds of tents and carts etched onto rock outcrops and birch-bark containers by the Xiongnu. But more than one of the sites could also have comprised conspicuous walled complexes. Sites for burying and venerating noble elites of the empire exhibit an even greater spatial multiplicity of imperial power. One area had cemeteries containing significantly larger tomb complexes than the others—Gol Mod and Gol Mod II. These two cemeteries are also located within the same region of the Khangai as the three-enclosure complex and the largest architectural complex bearing proclamations for Chanyu the Son of Heaven. Yet they are each more than 60 kilometers from one another, in completely different valleys. The two Gol Mod sites contain the largest tombs of the empire, but the sizes of the overall cemeteries and of their collective tombs are not exponentially larger than all the other noble cemeteries. Even if the two Gol Mod cemeteries could be burial grounds of the royal clan, or of the chanyus and their families, the ruling families shared much of their power and authority with a handful of other clans who likely also retained their own territorial centers and burial grounds. Other nodes of equivalent size— at Il’movaya pad, Noyon uul, Duurlig Nars, and Borbulag—occur in the Selenge and Kherlen river regions, spanning
212 Xiongnu the central, northern, and eastern realms of the Xiongnu Empire. Despite the handful of mega mortuary complexes at some square tomb cemeteries, like Tomb 1 at Gol Mod II, the sizes of tombs at all of these major sites are comparable and far greater than tombs of the handful of noble cemeteries in western lands, at Ovoon Khar, Bai Dag II, and Takhiltyn Khotgor. Of the larger sites in the core, no one cemetery of monumental tombs was so much greater than all the others to warrant a label of singular royal burial ground. And none of them was located within the vicinity of a singularly monumental residential core corresponding to a metropole capital. How then might we explain the spatial partitioning of seemingly equal noble factions? Given the historical references to partitions of southern frontier territories into domains of Right, Left, and courtly Center, it is tempting to equate separate areas of square tomb cemeteries into according realms of Right Kings, Left Kings, and a courtly Center. This model renders the small sites in the West as being those of the Right and the easternmost sites at Duurlig Nars and Borbulag as those of the Left.194 This tripartite division becomes untenable, however, when trying to determine whether Il’movaya pad and Noyon Uul were sites of the eastern Left or the courtly Center. Moreover, western sites of the supposed Right appear far less prominent than eastern sites of the supposed Left. This arrangement greatly contrasts with ample textual records of imperial dynamics during the Late Xiongnu era, in which the empire had retracted somewhat from the Xianbei and Wuhuan in the east, ventures westward into Central Asia were a far greater focus of the Great Chiefs, and the western Kings of the Right were far more powerful than those in the eastern Left. Furthermore, many of the provincial nobles and officials of both west and east were themselves divided into Left and Right rankings within single domains.195 Thus, the textually outlined structure, which itself is far more complex than a mere spatial Left-Right-Center, cannot be so easily mapped onto the archaeological record. We must instead seek an alternative explanation for this division of high-ranking Xiongnu nobles into a handful of roughly equivalent areas of square tomb cemeteries within the imperial core. Those noble families who retained control over the positions of Great Chiefs came from the royal Luandi clan and a few affiliate clans including the Huyan, Lan, and Xubu. While the position of chanyu was the exclusive right of the Luandi clan, all of these clans appear to have shared equally in their claims to the highest titles of Great Chiefs, the eminent nobles who collectively approved the successive chanyus. A heterarchical division of power within the top echelon of an otherwise steep imperial hierarchy is a far more tenable model than Left and Right for explaining the archaeological pattern of a few relatively equal hubs of immense political power at comparable square tomb cemeteries. This would make the smaller square tomb sites in the West not establishments of the Left that were peers with nobles centered around the other square tomb cemeteries, but
Masters of the Continental Worlds 213 more likely powerful westward extensions of the Great Chiefs into some of the most prolific provinces. The decimal- organized and Left/ Right- partitioned political order of the Xiongnu was not strictly hierarchical at all levels or in every capacity. Centers of the imperial nobility, manifested most conspicuously by square tomb cemeteries, exhibit a heterarchy of sorts embedded within the highest level of the political hierarchy. With the Left and Right divisions and the great gatherings to select new chanyus, the assemblage of noble clans and Great Chiefs retained the potential to act in either peer or in ranked fashion, imparting a frequently heterarchical condition of the ruling echelon of the empire.196 The more hierarchical political partitioning occurred between these few clans who shared the highest ranks of Great Chiefs, the so-called noble stock of the empire, and those who were of “other” lineages or of local factions. This division is clearly attested in the archaeological record, between square tombs and circular graves, and the large corpus of Xiongnu archaeological sites spread across Inner Asia further illustrate a complex and hierarchical web of elites who constituted the imperial matrix. Despite heterarchical operations and spatial partitions across the Mongolian steppe, the Xiongnu nobles formed a unified political heart socially embedded within a body of well-connected central nodes that in turn commanded and operated a vast empire. The Resilient Regime Many historians speak of an irreparable weakening of the Xiongnu Empire in the late first century bce, with the concessions of Huhanye that brought on the downfall of the regime.197 Yet neither archaeological nor historical records corroborate such a narrative. Once Huhanye returned to the Mongolian grasslands, a wave of reforms heralded a revived empire, one that would thrive for many more generations. Although no official Familial Alliance was made, delegations from the Han realms once again ventured north with overwhelming tribute for the chanyus. And after decades of relative peace and open trade between the Han and Xiongnu realms, the steppe empire was sturdy enough to fend off a new barrage of diplomatic and military challenges from their southern adversary. The Han emperor, under the control of the subversive court official Wang Mang, had pushed forward the set of Four Conditions of diplomacy that asserted Han supremacy deep into Central Asian realms, areas over which the Xiongnu had claimed hegemony. But Wuzhuliu Chanyu did not accept any changes to the tenets of the treaty consecrated by his father Huhanye. When the emboldened court official launched a coup in 9 ce, declaring his own New Dynasty over the whole of what had been the Han Empire, he further challenged the authority of the chanyus.
214 Xiongnu The official-turned-emperor Wang Mang sent a delegation to the Xiongnu court with an imperial seal to replace the one given to Huhanye. New Dynasty emissaries claimed it to be merely a new seal for the Xiongnu, to reify relations with the New Dynasty, yet the semantics of the seal in fact stipulated that the Xiongnu were to be of the New Dynasty and vassals under the authority of the New Emperor. The Xiongnu ruler was purportedly enraged and demanded a return of the original seal. To add insult to injury, New Dynasty emissaries brought further demands from the New Emperor that all Xiongnu rulers shed their indigenous names in favor of Chinese-styled single-character names. Wuzhuliu Chanyu, whose given name was Nangzhiyasi, was to be called simply Zhi.198 While he and his successor chanyus were recorded with single-character names in the Han histories, there is no reason to believe that they accepted these altered names, especially when interacting with their own nobles and subordinates. The New Emperor continually attempted to undermine the sovereignty of the Xiongnu rulers. He goaded Wuhuan lords into withholding tribute payments to the Xiongnu court and invited royal chiefs to take up the ranks of fifteen New “chanyus” spread across the frontier. Both endeavors failed quickly, and the Xiongnu suspended the peace treaty of Huhanye to launch continual raids against the treacherous southern empire. When the Chanyu Huduershi took power in 18 ce, throngs of rebel farmers throughout the deep south revolted against the New Emperor’s regime. Huduershi seized the opportunity and backed the frontier chief Lu Fang in his claim as the rightful Liu family heir to the defunct Han dynasty. The Xiongnu were prepared to restore the Han dynasty with a puppet emperor. The New Emperor had ignited the ire of local farmers as well as powerful nobles within his realms, and, in 23 ce, a descendant of the Han royal family of Liu asserted himself as emperor of a restored Han Empire. Chang’an was soon stormed by armies of agrarian rebels and Han loyalists. Wang Mang was assassinated and his experimental regime disintegrated. Chinese histories are peculiarly quiet regarding the Xiongnu during the many decades after the New Emperor’s demise. But material remains in the steppe during this time are particularly loud, with monumental square tombs, extravagant wealth, and thriving local communities demonstrating a pervasive and powerful steppe empire in the first century ce. Most Han frontier documents about Xiongnu or “Hu” forces date between 75 bce and 30 ce, a period which many historians characterize as “the slow demise of the Xiongnu.”199 Yet much of this time span includes the era of Xiongnu restoration and growth inaugurated by Huhanye. The relative dearth of raids recorded at the frontier between 36 bce and 10 ce may reflect an era of peace, but not because of diminished Xiongnu power. Huhanye had designed a treaty that granted open markets and an even greater amount of tribute flowing in, a state of affairs on which his successive chanyus
Masters of the Continental Worlds 215 capitalized for the growth of the empire. Even when the Han dynasty eventually reestablished itself after the New Dynasty coup, Xiongnu invasions continued. The most numerous records of frontier raids come from the years of Han reestablishment, between 26 and 30 ce, when small yet continual Xiongnu forces were unleashed upon Han colonies.200 For two decades, the Xiongnu rulers exploited the chaos of the Han civil war and its aftermath to reassert control over lands and resources in their southern peripheries. To add political insult to the injury of raids, Huduershi Chanyu invoked the circumstances of the treaty with Huhanye, who had acquiesced to Han hegemony in the midst of Xiongnu civil war. He argued that the aid of Xiongnu forces under Lu Fang that were given to Han loyalists for the overthrow of the New Dynasty meant that the Han emperor was obligated to pledge allegiance as a Younger Brother to the chanyu Older Brother.201 When the nascent Han emperor refused, the chanyu renewed his support for the competing Han royal claim of Lu Fang, who still occupied the entirety of the Ordos Plateau and surrounding lands down to the Wei River on behalf of the Xiongnu.202 Lu Fang was never completely ousted by the Han until 42 ce, by which time the frontier was so exhausted that the Han had to drastically reduce or abandon many of the colonies that had long before been established by the Militant Emperor.203 Even after Lu Fang’s final defeat, Xiongnu raids continued with major invasions in 44 and 45 ce. The chanyu also incited Wuhaun and Xianbei tribes to their east to invade and pillage the Han frontier.204 The Xiongnu clearly retained a strong hold over their peripheral affiliates, not only to demand tribute from them but also to direct their armies against other adversaries on behalf of the chanyu. Little attempt was made to restore the dense system of Han colonies in the ravaged frontier, leaving many previous Han establishments to be controlled by affiliate steppe entities, including divisions of the Wuhuan.205 The Xiongnu Empire, undaunted, continued to dominate. When the long reign of Huduershi Chanyu expired in 46 ce, his death heralded the end of the line of Huhanye’s sons. Although succession had not gone in strict order for the sons, crises of claimant disputes had been subdued and kept within the royal family. But once the last son of Huhanye died, subdued and suppressed tensions reared up. Han accounts give portentous weight to the conflicts that rose over succession, with tales of locust plagues devastating Xiongnu livestock and Wuhuan armies forcing the Xiongnu to abandon lands south of the Gobi “Curtain.”206 While the ensuing skirmishes resulted in neither widespread civil war nor a crippling division of the empire, they did force a drastic shift in geopolitics of the frontier with Han China. When Huduershi’s son Wudadihou was selected as chanyu, the Great Chiefs passed over the much older son of the previous Wuzhuliu Chanyu, Sutuhu, a potential heir who had bided his time since his father’s death in 13 ce. Sutuhu had already been demoted to a petty king in the southeastern frontier battling
216 Xiongnu Wuhuan tribes. Wudadihou died in 48 ce, after reigning only a year, and the next son of Huduershi was selected to be Punu Chanyu. The Great Chiefs had yet again discounted Sutuhu. The disenfranchised royal son then turned to the Han for support. He secretly presented a map of the Xiongnu territory to Han emissaries when they came visiting the court of the new chanyu. When the plot was discovered, Punu Chanyu dispatched a punitive army to pursue Sutuhu, who was forced to flee with his hordes to the Ordos where he sought refuge under Han protection. The fledgling chief then quickly advanced his lingering ambition to be steppe ruler. From deep within Han protectorates, he proclaimed himself Huhanye Chanyu. Sutuhu chose his reign name with purposeful reference to the endeavors of his Han-endorsed grandfather Huhanye a hundred years prior. The claim was made with support from the Han court and a host of Xiongnu hordes residing in southern territories abutting the Han. The self-titled Huhanye II then immediately launched campaigns northward. Despite initial victories against Punu Chanyu and the Great Chiefs north of the Gobi, the rebellious chanyu was never able to reclaim the core domains of the steppe empire. In 50 ce, Sutuhu kowtowed to the Han court and became Bi, the Southern Chanyu, an affiliate “chanyu” chief charged with protecting the Han realms. He was entrenched within the frontier, watched closely by a Han official named the Xiongnu Inner Gentleman General and guarded by Han militia and officials stationed all around him. The Southern Chanyu and his nobles were forced to make ritual offerings to the Han emperors rather than their own ancestors. When Sutuhu died his funeral was attended by Han militia, and he was laid to rest by Han officials with Chinese offering ceremonies entailing alcohol and grain.207 The next few Southern Chanyus after him reigned only a couple years each, and all were under pressure of Han decrees and social protocols. Meanwhile, in the political heart of the empire, the core elite hordes of central Mongolia remained intact. The Southern Xiongnu was a cluster of rebellious noble hordes located in the Ordos, which broke away from the steppe regime. But this defection did not send ripples across the steppe shattering the imperial network. It was not a deadly split in half of the Xiongnu empire, as so often reported, but rather a splintering off of one faction of Xiongnu hordes to form an intermediary entity that came to dominate Han political attention and Chinese historical accounts.208 When Xianbei commanders took the opportunity of the Southern Chanyu circumstance to break away from the Xiongnu regime in 49 ce, they successfully attacked divisions of the Left Great Chiefs and were given noble titles by the Han.209 The loss of significant eastern as well as southern nodes hypothetically would have been a critical blow to the imperial network overall. But the empire seems not to have faltered. The regime retained numerous other nodes of great strength and centrality, including affiliate agents among Yabgu Lords of
Masters of the Continental Worlds 217 the Kangju and revived Yuezhi in Central Asia, all of whom allowed the extensive regime to rein in significant resources from regions far from the Mongolian grasslands. If we return to a networks perspective for the Xiongnu Empire, then the Southern Xiongnu and the Xianbei in the east each represent individual clusters of elite hordes, in one case led by members from the political heart, which severed their ties from the rest of the imperial matrix. To probe the question of potential demise of the Xiongnu regime, we may think in terms of a fraction curve for the durability of political density; in other words, looking at how many nodes, and the links they made, could be taken away before the remaining nodes could no longer make up for lost linkages such that the overall matrix would break apart completely. Sutuhu had taken with him a considerable number of southern elite hordes from the network of the Xiongnu Empire and seemingly with them their links to the Han Empire. Yet these nodes were but one arm of the empire, and the imperial matrix was able to shift toward relying on other links at the local level as well as an unwavering strong link between the court of the steppe empire and that of the Han. The defection of eastern peripheral hordes with the rise of Xianbei leaders may also have severed links with the Han and with resources in the far northeast. But in the case of a polity comprised of highly mobile communities and political agents, there is an increased potential for nodes to have more links with others, regardless of seeming spatial constraints, and thus a greater adaptability of the network to shift or repair itself with new links. Once the Southern Xiongnu became a buffer state of the Han after 50 ce, little to nothing is recorded of the inner politics of the steppe empire. Nevertheless, the next several decades of Xiongnu rule remained secure through the combined long reigns of Punu Chanyu and his first son, Youliu Chanyu. Material remains throughout Inner Asia provide a picture of a robust polity during this latter era, forcing us to redress the inherited narrative of decline and reexamine the historical as well as archaeological records. Xiongnu raids large enough to gain mention in Han court histories persisted in the years after 50 ce.210 Despite protests from the Southern Chanyu, the political nemesis of the Xiongnu Empire and formal ally of the Han, diplomatic accommodations of symbolic weaponry gifts and open markets were granted by the Han emperors to the chanyu in the North. Angered and opportunistic contingencies among the Sothern Xiongnu raided Han caravans headed to the court of the northern chanyu, but they also made alliances with local chiefs of the greater steppe empire. As hordes defected back and forth, ties between the empire and its rival offspring continued. The Xiongnu fended off attacks from the treacherous Southern Chanyu and launched their own raids against him. In 63 ce, amidst hostilities from
218 Xiongnu the Southern Xiongnu, Han officials were forced to recognize the failure of the Southern Chanyu intermediary and, more importantly, the resilience and persistent growth of the Xiongnu Empire in the North: “The Northern Xiongnu are still flourishing and repeatedly raid the borderlands, causing the royal court [of the Southern Chanyu] to worry.”211 It was not the Han who would bring about the downfall of the Xiongnu Empire. Just as it had been on the eve of the civil war before Zhizhi and Huhanye, it was shifting politics in Inner Asia and the rise of rival powers in the greater steppe world that would suddenly destabilize the Xiongnu regime and bring it crashing down at the end of the first century ce. The Scattering of Sheep Whereas the Han failed to make crippling inroads into the steppe empire through military or diplomatic ventures, other peripheral entities managed over time to eat away at the Xiongnu imperial matrix. Under the leadership of the Kushan clan, Yabgu Lords in Bactria had grown significantly in power over the course of the first century ce. By the end of the century their ruler known as Kujula Kadphises had declared himself King of a Kushan dynasty and conquered Fergana and many other surrounding regions. This rival regime, ironically descended from the old Yuezhi enemies of the Xiongnu, rapidly wrested away hegemony in Central Asia.212 The Xianbei, descendants of the Eastern Hu kings who had long ago scorned Modun Chanyu in his early years, posed a substantial threat to Xiongnu hegemony in the eastern realms. It was more than their shift to Han allegiance or halting of tribute payments that caused strife. As nearby Wuhuan tribes diminished, partially enveloped by Han colonies through campaigns of frontier resettlement, the Xianbei expanded in their stead, unchallenged, absorbing hordes and resources along the entire eastern frontier.213 It was Xianbei forces that struck the first critical blow to the Xiongnu Empire in 85 ce. They successfully stormed into the core domains, captured the Chanyu Youliu, and flayed his body, pronouncing the defeat of the Luandi clan and its steppe regime. The momentary chaos of slaughtered Xiongnu chiefs and a supposed plague of locusts upon their herds created additional opportunities for contending polities in other peripheries. Invasions by Dingling from the north, Wusun from the west, Qiang from the southwest, and remnants of the Wuhuan from the southeast were joined by combined Southern Xiongnu and Han attacks from the south. The Southern Xiongnu aimed to retake the helm of the fractured steppe empire, and the Han sought to demolish it entirely. Han generals boasted of how they “tread over the regions brought down by Modun and set fire to the Long [City] Court of Old Venerate [Jiyu Chanyu]” before making Han ritual offerings at the Xiongnu sacred mount of Yanran and
Masters of the Continental Worlds 219 inscribing it with a memorial of Chinese victory.214 The remaining royal hordes of the Xiongnu then fled with their newly appointed chanyu, taking refuge in the Great Lakes region of their western frontier abutting the Altai. But the Xiongnu “did not return to establish themselves” in the Mongolian grasslands.215 The scrambling Great Chiefs quickly lost complete control over Inner Asia. The entrenched Southern Xiongnu and the burgeoning Xianbei together dominated large portions of what had once been prominent imperial realms. Dingling and Jiankun groups spanning the northern and northwestern regions rose again in power, reclaiming control of the prosperous fur trade and wielding large standing armies.216 By the beginning of the second century ce, the square tombs indicative of Xiongnu imperial nobles ceased to be made. No more Luandi clan members claiming the title of chanyu on behalf of a Xiongnu dynasty asserted themselves in Inner Asia. Some local establishments of Xiongnu elites appear to have continued for decades afterward, but these vestigial appendages of empire operated without an intact body or commanding head. The Southern Chanyus certainly had aspirations to retake the northern realms. But their Ordos entity was overwhelmed by the likes of the Xianbei and other Inner Asian powers, which feasted like too many vultures on the carcass of the steppe empire. And while the disintegration of the regime of Great Chiefs seems sudden, the dissolution of the imperial matrix was not so abrupt. As if resonating its protracted and tumultuous process of formation, the Xiongnu Empire endured a prolonged and undulating end.
7
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s with many empires, the demise of the Xiongnu Empire occurred in fits. The Great Chiefs of the Mongolian grasslands were the first to dissipate. But before the imperial matrix dissolved completely, provincial enclaves engendered new forms of regional powers that would carry on the Xiongnu legacy. The first to do so was a contested polity along the southern frontier, the so- called Southern Xiongnu. As the Southern Xiongnu persevered for a century after the fall of the steppe empire, it carried with it the names and traditions of the steppe regime. Chinese historians would later describe the Southern Chanyu as having undergone “deep acculturation” under Han suzerainty, yet this frontier affiliate state asserted Xiongnu cultural norms and political systems despite accommodations for Han styles of political conduct and legitimacy.1 The Southern Chanyu founded a completely Xiongnu-style regime within the Ordos, though arguably because the self-proclaimed Huhanye the Second initially had goals to reclaim the steppe empire.2 Assorted members of the Luandi and its affiliate clans went south, filling ranks of a rival hierarchy of Great Chiefs. The Four Horns of the Southern Xiongnu were the primary Left and Right Kings of Tuqi and Luli, and the Six Horns were the secondary Left and Right Kings of Rizhu, Wenyudi, and Zhanjiang. They reigned in much the same manner as their peers did in Inner Asia.3 The Southern Xiongnu even retained subordinate titles like the King of Yujian—a clan of the Kangju in Sogdiana—which reflected a clear desire to project the same manner of continental authority as their northern rivals had.4 These southern chiefs, though ostensibly under Han authority, retained their own titles. Chiefs from the northern steppe who submitted to the Han were folded into their ranks with official bronze seals bearing a camel indicative of a steppe leader but rendering these surrendered dignitaries as “Han chiefs.”5 Bronze camel seals bestowed upon chiefs of the Southern Xiongnu, on the other hand, bore Xiongnu personal and rank names, translated into Chinese characters, that evidence the retention of a Xiongnu political designation and its associated system (Figure 7.1). Chiefs of the frontier Xiongnu entity, who were deemed more under the control of the Han, seem to have been more independent.
Xiongnu. Bryan K. Miller, Oxford University Press. © Oxford University Press 2024. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190083694.003.0007
Hunnic Heritage 221
Figure 7.1 Bronze camel seal and seal impression of “Han Xiongnu Lijie Wenyudi,” Inner Mongolia. Drawing by Mara Nakama, after Lu 1977.
222 Xiongnu The Southern Xiongnu strove to maintain an existence between the two empires to their north and south, even though they abided more the demands of the Han court. Chanyu Huhanye the Second set his royal camp in the far northeastern corner of the Ordos Plateau, symbolically at the same locale that had been the southern seat of power for Modun and his immediate successors. Nevertheless, he was eventually forced to accept the lesser name of Bi the Southern Chanyu and was subjected to a Han enclave embedded in his Southern Xiongnu court that continually regulated his activities and those of his Chiefs. In the wake of expansion by the Militant Emperor, this corner of the Ordos had transformed into a Han prefecture with the highest number of registered households Within the River. But as the Southern Xiongnu settled there in the aftermath of the New Dynasty civil war, there were very few tax-paying households of the Han Empire left.6 Here, it seems, Xiongnu chiefs and their hordes might be able to prosper. Southern Xiongnu elites scattered through the Ordos grasslands retained the lifeways and culture of the steppe empire from which they had come, demonstrated in their styles of cauldrons, jars, belts, weapons, and burial rituals.7 The more elevated elites within the area of the Southern Chanyu court camp, such as those at Xigoupan, adorned themselves with a mixture of Han and Xiongnu decorations. Jade ornaments depicting Chinese-style dragons and dancers displayed their engagement with Han emissaries. But their headgear, necklaces, and garment trimmings were Xiongnu accoutrements of gold and precious stones, all of which purposefully imitated the animal belts, reindeer stag motifs, and horse ornaments of the nobles of the Xiongnu Empire.8 Although members of the Southern Chanyu’s royal horde declared a distinct Xiongnu identity in their dress and rituals, other nobles of the Southern Xiongnu were more deeply embedded in Ordos colonies of the Han. In garrisons close to the Central Plains, Xiongnu dignitaries appear to have been honored with the same degree of deference as Han nobles. They were interred with many of the personal items and wares typical of the Xiongnu but were buried in Han style multichambered brick tombs and were given funerals conducted by Han emissaries. Regardless of seeming attempts to include Xiongnu rites of veneration, many of the sacrificial offerings were made with animal species or portions that were not attune to Xiongnu customs.9 In colonies of northern Ordos, some Southern Xiongnu elites were venerated with tombs and offerings slightly more attune with ritual customs of imperial nobles in the steppe, though these ostentatious burials were still set within Han cemeteries of brick-constructed multichamber tombs. These Southern Xiongnu nobles were laid to rest in large wood-beam chamber tombs that imitated aspects of the ramped pits and log chambers of the northern square tombs. But again, these constituted more hybrid versions of steppe empire mortuary traditions. The tombs were covered with plain earthen mounds and Han buildings that bore
Hunnic Heritage 223 eave tiles proclaiming “The Barbarians of Four [Directions] Have Completely Submitted” and “The Chanyu Is Subdued by Heaven.”10 The Southern Chanyu and his noble chiefs strove to maintain their seasonal gatherings and their ritual offerings to the same deities and spirits as before. Yet they were officially obligated to supplant offerings to their traditional clan ancestors with offerings venerating the Han emperors. In the course of negotiating their existence between competing societies and encroaching regimes, the Southern Xiongnu forged a middle ground of mediations with agents of both the Xiongnu and the Han, facilitated through a collection of hybrid customs and institutions.11 They may have failed to retake the steppe empire, but the Southern Xiongnu model of political practice became a seed for other large polities of non- Han groups, those which would come to rule over the Central Plains in the subsequent centuries after the fall of both the Xiongnu and Han empires. After the Fall At the end of the first century, a storm of invasions from all directions ravaged Xiongnu domains. The last chanyu, Yuchujian, who took asylum in the Pulei kingdom lands of Barköl, was forced to submit to Han suzerainty even at such a great distance. Once he accepted the title of Northern Chanyu in 92, he became a distant counterpart lord to the subdued Southern Chanyu, both of whom remained under the authority of the Han Emperor. When he died a year later, no Northern Chanyu replaced him, and the Xiongnu dynasty died with him.12 Some of the fractured northern hordes extended an invitation to a member of the remaining Luandi royal lineage in the Southern Xiongnu realms. Lord Feng, a son of the Southern Chanyu, accepted the selection as chanyu over Inner Asia and ventured north with thousands. But persistent attacks from the Xianbei against the fractured north were overwhelming. By 104, Lord Feng had fled the steppes in failure, taking refuge in the western stronghold of Dunhuang. In 118, he returned to the Ordos and submitted to the Han and their Southern Xiongnu affiliates.13 The last effort to reinstate the Xiongnu Empire was made in 140 by Goulong chiefs, lesser provincial kings of the Left who were still attached to the puppet entity of the Southern Xiongnu. They joined forces with a remnant king of the Right and crossed westward over the Yellow River, storming the royal camp of the Southern Chanyu. The Goulong King named Juniu was then selected as the new chanyu. He only lasted a few years.14 By then, Xianbei tribes in the east were growing ever stronger and soon launched a series of conquests under their leader Tanshihuai. They swept across the whole of Inner Asia, “completely seizing the lands that had been Xiongnu . . . ensnaring the mountain rivers, watery marshes and salt ponds.”15
224 Xiongnu One noble horde, which supposedly accompanied the Northern Chanyu when he fled across the southern Altai to Barköl, fled further away when Tanshihuai launched his conquests across the whole of the crumbled Xiongnu Empire. This weakened fledgling group, unable to overpower entrenched Western Regions groups like the Qiuci or fend off Xianbei assaults launched from the Ordos, absconded beyond the Tian Shan to ally themselves with Kangju lords. They settled into the lush Ili grasslands near Lake Balkhash, where the Wusun had once flourished, and founded a thriving Central Asian kingdom known as Yueban. Although there is no indication that they preserved any of the political institutions of the empire, their king was referred to as The Magnificent (Chanyu) King by hordes in Hexi and other neighboring areas. Their leaders were purportedly descended from Xiongnu noble clans and their people were described as being Hu, but their culture took on the traditions of steppe groups in the Sayan-Altai and elsewhere west of the old Xiongnu domains.16 In the centuries following the death of the short-lived Northern Chanyu, this manner of diluted vestige with unraveled lineages, and only the title of chanyu remaining, was all that survived of the Xiongnu Empire. Subsequent attempts to reunify Inner Asia under one regime failed, with or without Xiongnu dynastic declaration, and the various regions of the steppe advanced along a series of radically different trajectories. Some households fled outward with large contingencies, as the crippled royal hordes had done, to try to reestablish themselves at the edges of the empire. Others absconded with small chiefs who were given ranks in neighboring regimes. Some local elites in the Mongolian grasslands allied themselves with encroaching Xianbei tribes from the east, yet most asserted independent power in the absence of the imperial rulers. The network of local elites that once constituted a unified empire reemerged in the Mongolian grasslands as a decentered conglomerate of regional powers. For years, raiding Xianbei groups poured into the heartland of the Xiongnu, “migrating and seizing their lands,” and more than a hundred thousand remnant Xiongnu tribes began calling themselves Xianbei so as to join forces with the burgeoning new power of Inner Asia.17 Some collections of intrusive Xianbei hordes purposefully intruded upon the burial grounds of Xiongnu elites, desecrating their cemeteries and even interring their own members above or on top of previous burials.18 A scattering of individual elite burials across the steppe also attests to the presence of minor hordes during the second century—of people who, through particular house wares and belt ornaments, pronounced themselves as other than Xiongnu.19 At the same time, many factions of elites who had been powerful participants of the Xiongnu Empire, including those at Burkhan Tolgoi, Khirgist Khooloi, and Shombuuzyn Belchir, endured well into the second century.20 Communities of Inner Asia were deeply invested in Xiongnu social practices and expressions of political prestige, and they continued to profit from the far-reaching network of
Hunnic Heritage 225 peer elites who defined themselves by traditions of the Xiongnu. Not until long after the Great Chiefs had diminished did the political culture of their empire fade as well. As the royal hordes disintegrated, some regions emerged as independent power bases with control over portions of the splintered empire. One conglomerate of remnant Xiongnu hordes managed to thrive in the northern regions of the old empire under a new chief commander called Bayeji. They persisted all the way until the early fifth century when they were overrun by the conquesting chief Shelun and his rising confederacy of tribes known as Rouran.21 Whereas some communities emerged as independent regional powers after the fall of the Xiongnu, others endured by becoming participants in new intrusive regimes, namely the Xianbei. A large cemetery of circular graves at Airagiin Gozgor attests to an established lineage group that thrived in the center of the steppe empire.22 As the Xiongnu regime waned, these elites remained, erecting further graves to memorialize their privileged members and demonstrate their continued dominance over that stretch of the Selenge River. They employed small-scale alterations of square tomb markers with entries that had once been reserved for high noble nomads, thereby appropriating the legitimacy of the recently toppled Xiongnu. But beneath the square mounds, they interred their deceased according to funerary rituals and material proscriptions of Xianbei tribes that had come to dominate the eastern realms between the Han and the crumbling Xiongnu.23 Such a hybrid political culture provided these elites with entrenched local expressions of authority alongside demonstrations of prestige derived from participation in the rapidly expanding conglomerate of Xianbei tribes from the southeast. The greatest Xianbei expansion into the Inner Asian steppe supposedly occurred under the ambitions of Tanshihuai. Once he had refused a “kingly” seal from the Han emperor, he led the collective Xianbei hordes to expand out from their core territories abutting the Xing’an Mountains. They launched attacks across the Mongolian grasslands, pushing back intrusions from the Dingling tribes and repelling Wusun tribes that had encroached from the west. Wuhuan, Dingling, and Qiang hordes were subjugated, and the Southern Xiongnu hordes became allies. Tanshihuai then set up a royal court and declared himself a singular ruler of a confederacy of Xianbei tribes. The steppes were yet again declared as partitioned into East, Center, and West domains, each of which controlled by four Great Commanders selected from the “great men” of the principal tribes.24 But while Xianbei Great Men exploited the opportunity of a power vacuum left behind by Xiongnu Great Chiefs, they did not succeed in grasping all the remnant political reins of the Xiongnu to reinstate an Inner Asian empire.25 The military campaigns of Tanshihuai may have been extensive, but the intensity of Xianbei occupation of old Xiongnu domains may also have been exaggerated by Xianbei agents or Han chroniclers.26 So far, only the site of Airagiin Gozgor gives
226 Xiongnu any indication of a significant presence of definitively Xianbei elites within the heart of the Inner Asian steppe. Xianbei control of the steppe was so loose that when the “pirate king” Tanshihuai died in 182, his endeavor of reunification died with him.27 The steppe soon returned to a world of divisive local lineages and opportunistic chiefs. Just as southern and eastern realms broke off to establish new political power bases all their own, so did the northwestern territories reemerge as centers of power. Sayan and Altai groups that had been subdued first by Modun and later by Zhizhi rose up again. Chronicles of the third century attest to a return of the Dingling and Gekun kingdoms, with skilled cavalry and adept fur traders.28 The northern Altai, which had thrived as the center of a powerful nomadic kingdom before the rise of the Xiongnu, was once again filled with affluent local lineage groups and their elite burial grounds, with some centuries-old cemeteries once again reused as newer small graves abutted the larger ancient ones (Figure 7.2; cf. Figure 2.4).29 Elite factions in the Minusinsk, who had remained staunchly independent during the long Xiongnu era, once again became a large regional power and flaunted great wealth in the form of high-grade multicolored jin-silk of the Central Plains as well as sable and wolverine coats of Siberia.30 Populations that had been subjugated by the Xiongnu for centuries were throwing off the reins throughout Inner Asia. Along with the rising up of peripheral tribes and kingdoms came the exodus of motley assemblages of people. Multitudes of slaves who fled captivity under the Xiongnu chiefs, including some from northern Dingling and southern Qiang groups, had already been amassing in southwestern borderlands during the final decades of the steppe empire. They persistently raided caravans traveling through the Hexi Corridor and even pillaged Han colonies. Over time, the assorted “Slave Captive” groups formed their own consortium of hordes and continued to grow in numbers. By the beginning of the third century, they had grown into a force of tens of thousands organized under their own appointed Great Chief.31 Around the same time, the Han Empire erupted in civil war and the Southern Xiongnu fractured with it. Noble clans like the Xiuchu had already revolted against the southern Luandi royalty in the mid second century and with the aid of Wuhaun rebels. Then, in 188, Chiefs of the Right rallied with the Xiuchu and other clans to execute the reigning Han-sympathizer Southern Chanyu and raise up his son as the next chanyu. Yet this puppet ruler lasted only a year before being ousted, fleeing to the Central Plains, and being replaced by a lord from the Xubu noble clan.32 There were surely aims to preserve some legitimacy by placing a member of at least a secondary noble lineage of the Xiongnu in control of the position of chanyu, but this effort failed too when the Xubu Chanyu died in 196, after only a year. Just over a century after Xianbei forces had butchered the last chanyu to reign in the north, the final demise of the vestiges of the Xiongnu dynasty came as the
Figure 7.2 Inner Asia after the fall of the Xiongnu Empire. 1 Burkhan Tolgoi, 2 Airagiin Gozgor, 3 Tamiryn Ulaan Khoshuu, 4 Baga Gazaryn Chuluu, 5 Khirgist Khooloi, 6 Shombuuzyn Belchir, 7 Xigoupan; 8, 9 Dabaodang, 10 Shangsunjiazhai; 11 Bulan Toirom, 12 Burgest Gol and Shiveet Khairkhan.
228 Xiongnu remnant royal court in the Ordos emptied out. Upon the death of the rebellious Xubu Chanyu, his fledgling son shed the title of chanyu and took on the Han royal family name of Liu, ostensibly wiping away the name of the royal Luandi lineage that had ruled all of Inner Asia for three centuries. The remaining old kings of the Xiongnu regime “migrated out with their affairs.”33 In 216, the Han warlord Cao, who was more concerned with solidifying his own Wei dynasty, abolished the position of Southern Chanyu and split the deteriorated Southern Xiongnu hordes into five divisions spread across the northern Central Plains. To accommodate and control the ever-growing presence of Hu hordes in the Central Plains, the Chinese Wei dynasty and its successor, the Jin, adapted the decimal hierarchy of chiefs for bestowing titles on foreign leaders. Bronze camel and sheep seals, equivalent to those given to Southern Xiongnu nobles, were given to submitted leaders from the Qiang and other Inner Asian groups with ranks of Chief-of-Thousands, Chief-of-Hundreds, and Chief-of-City.34 Other hordes and chiefs increasingly filled the void of the Southern Xiongnu until they formed a conglomerate derived from Xiongnu traditions but no longer bearing the Xiongnu dynastic name. The leader of the new consortium bore the title of Chanyu and beneath him were Tuqi and Luli Kings of Left and Right, though these positions were held by the Xiuchu, a clan which only in the first century had risen in status among the Southern Xiongnu nobles.35 The rest of the political network was highly fragmented, attempting to accommodate the vast collection of nineteen eager yet petty hordes. Second-tier chiefly ranks splintered from six into ten kings, and the noble consort clans who had once held high status under the Luandi came only to hold the lowest of ranks.36 Regimes of the Ordos and northern Central Plains were clearly still invested in the Xiongnu political structure that had governed their world for almost four hundred years, even if the Xiongnu Empire did not rematerialize. Over time, however, only the dynastic name would remain. Yet the name of Xiongnu, and its Hunnic derivatives, continually carried great power. What’s in a Name In the wake of the crumbled Xiongnu and Han Empires, there came an era of tumultuous dynasties centered in territories of what had once been the frontier between them.37 Intermixtures of ruling hordes and cultural practices had already blurred social and cultural lines throughout the northern zones. The remnant Luandi lords of the Southern Xiongnu, having fled to the mountainous lands east of the Ordos, changed to the Han noble name of Liu, and many of their subordinate hordes intermixed with Xianbei and Wuhuan contingents to create new “mixed Hu” groups like the Tiefu. Through the course of the third and fourth centuries, several aspiring rulers claimed direct descent from old royal lineages
Hunnic Heritage 229 in a game of cultural politics that sought to exploit the archaic potency of both the Han dynasty of Liu and the Xiongnu dynasty of Luandi.38 When the Central Plains erupted at the end of the third century under pressure from the so-called Five Hu—Xiongnu, Xianbei, Qiang, Di, and Jie—two short-lived dynastic projects emerged from the splintered remnants of Xiongnu hordes. A King of the Left, in hopes of appealing to entrenched Central Plains lords, took the Liu family name and proclaimed himself Liu Yuanhai, King of the Han. Soon taking on the more presumptuous title of Emperor, he captured the cities of Chang’an and Ye along with most territories around the Yellow River. Then in 311, his combined military forces stormed and burned the entire capital city at Luoyang, forcing the Jin dynasty rulers to flee far south to the Yangzi River. The burning of Luoyang was a catastrophe that shocked Chinese nobles, foreign dignitaries, and the whole of eastern Eurasia. At the time, it seemed as if the power of the Xiongnu had returned. One Sogdian merchant, writing a distressed letter in the following year back to his Central Asian associates in the Sogdian capital of Samarkand, remarked, And, sirs, the last Emperor, so they say, fled from [Luoyang] because of the famine and fire was set to his palace and to the city, and the palace was burnt and the city [destroyed]. [Luoyang] is no more, [Ye] is no more! Moreover . . . [destroyed] by the Huns, and by them . . . [Chang’an], if indeed they held (?) it (?) . . . and as far as [Ye] these (same) Huns [who] yesterday were the emperor’s subjects! And, sirs, we do not know whether the remaining Chinese were able to expel the Huns [from] [Chang’an], from China, or whether they took the country beyond (?).39 Liu Yuanhai claimed the Han royal name to add credence to his claim of legitimacy over lands and communities spanning northern China, but his noble Xiongnu ancestry was also well known.40 The labeling of his armies as forces of a revived Xiongnu regime was a valuable tool of intimidation, and the burning of Luoyang added fuel to the fire of fear. But even though the rebellious ruler had been a Left King of Xiongnu tradition, he applied no such kingly distinctions to the ranks of his new regime. The heir apparent was called Great Chanyu, Leader of the Five Hu. Yet no other titles, decimal divisions, or Left–Right partitions reminiscent of the Xiongnu Empire were employed. The regime emerged from the ashes of Southern Xiongnu chiefs, but it only nominally exploited a Xiongnu name folded into an otherwise Han state. Then, from under the new “Han” dynasty, a rogue general of Hu heritage asserted his own bid for independent power. His exact lineage is debated, but he was from a subordinate tribe of the resettled Xiongnu who had been enslaved under the Jin dynasty. When Hu tribes rose up, he fabricated the family and given names of Shi and Le to emphasize his steppe heritage.41 Already a successful brigand chief plundering the towns of the wavering Jin dynasty, Shi Le quickly
230 Xiongnu achieved great victories across the Central Plains for the reinvented Han dynasty. A key commander in founding conquests and a leader during the sacking of Luoyang, he eventually was rewarded with the title of King of Zhao. Soon after, however, he proclaimed independence from his supposed Xiongnu-descended overlords. Within a decade, Shi Le overthrew them entirely and laid claim to all of the Central Plains as the domain of his own Zhao dynasty. In some ways, Shi Le can rightfully be said to have embraced steppe heritage. He partitioned the people for separate governance, bestowing political favor on Hu constituents who were called “people of the state” while Han groups were separately called “people [belonging to] the Zhao [regime].”42 Yet, like the preceding regime, the ruler bore the Chinese title of Emperor while the heir apparent was called Great Chanyu. Regardless of the brutal depictions of this regime by later Chinese chroniclers, who labeled it a resurgence of the Xiongnu, it was more a Chinese polity than a steppe one. Beyond the nominal use of the title of chanyu, there are no other indications of Xiongnu traditions of ranks and governance and no mentions of steppe lineages retaining collective political power. This hybrid polity, like its predecessor, lasted only a few decades before it disintegrated in 353. The successive Han and Zhao “Xiongnu” dynasties broke under pressure from Xianbei tribes to the east and were swallowed up by a regime of Di tribes to their west.43 As each of the turbulent regimes succeeded another, the reality of a Xiongnu revival increasingly diminished. The name transformed from a dynastic appellation—for a particular time, place, and political structure—into a broader ethnonym that harkened back to the hordes and chiefs who had held great power across Eurasia. Even as Chinese chroniclers continued to use the label of “Xiongnu” to denote these foreign regimes, groups from the steppe increasingly shed the name. The Yuwen, for example, had been a provincial tribe under the Xiongnu regime whose leaders then rose in power in the eastern lands as they allied themselves with Xianbei tribes. Some accounts claim that they were “distant relatives of the Southern Chanyu,” but once they became allies of the leading Xianbei tribes they ceased to be Yuwen-Xiongnu and became Yuwen-Xianbei.44 Such detailed accounts of groups during the centuries after the fall of the Xiongnu and Han Empires reveal the generalizing and easily shifting nature of labels such as “Xiongnu” and “Xianbei.”45 Why then, in a time when the Xiongnu dynasty had long been defunct and tribes of the Xianbei were the most powerful forces of Inner Asia, would newly fabricated regimes employ the title of chanyu or claim distant lineage ties back to the Great Chiefs of the Xiongnu dynasty? Any declarations of steppe titles were merely pronouncements of non-Chinese ranks that emphasized a general non- Chinese heritage. Such designations legitimized their control over steppe hordes and cavalry and separated them from subordinate Chinese constituents in the Central Plains. The Han and Zhao dynasties of Liu Yuanhai and Shi Le were, in
Hunnic Heritage 231 effect, only pseudo-Xiongnu regimes, exploiting the names of the old empire but shedding the political and cultural institutions.46 Soon, however, the power of the Xianbei title qaghan overshadowed the diminishing title of chanyu. Xiongnu designations had lost their political capital.47 After the Jin regime fled south and the pseudo-Xiongnu regimes of Han and Zhao faltered, the residual Southern Chanyu in the Ordos was quickly enveloped by a series of ever stronger hybrid dynasties stemming from competing steppe groups.48 By the fourth century, the political culture and social customs of the Xiongnu Empire had long since faded from fashion. Clans of the Ordos that had once been part of a Xiongnu-derived state oriented toward the steppe became subordinates to a succession of regimes centered on the Wei River and its surviving city of Chang’an.49 By the end of the fourth century, few if any hordes claiming Xiongnu heritage remained. They were scattered amid regional polities at the fringes of what had once been the empire. One clan from a remnant Xiongnu tribe established a regime that spread across the Hexi territories and thrived on the control of trade routes. They were the descendants of those who had filled the ranks of Left Juqu administrators for the Xiongnu chanyus and later broke off to establish themselves in western realms. When they did so, they took the Xiongnu political rank name of juqu as their new lineage name. In 401, their leader found support among the Slave Captive hordes in Hexi and overthrew what was left of the Han colonies. Despite the Xiongnu origin of the self-proclaimed Juqu clan or their affiliation with “slave” bandit groups from the Xiongnu who rallied with their forces, the new dynasty adopted the old province name of Liang from the time of Han control and implemented a host of Han lordly titles. But after the reigns of two rulers, the Liang dynasty of the Juqu was conquered in 439 by Xianbei forces of the rapidly growing Tuoba regime. The remaining Juqu elites fled to the Turpan Basin, where their fledgling state lasted only another couple of decades. A few years after the Juqu clan had risen to power in Hexi, the Tiefu clan of pseudo-Xiongnu origins rose up in the Ordos. Tiefu chiefs had retained local power in the Ordos as vassals of the tumultuous series of Central Plains regimes, but, in 407, one of their chiefs named Bobo seized a sizeable tribute gift of horses from northern steppe groups that were intended for Qiang overlords seated in Chang’an. He killed off all the remaining overlords in Ordos lands, declared himself to be the legendary Yu the Great of the mythic Chinese Xia dynasty, and took on both the Chinese title of Heavenly King and steppe title of Great Chanyu. Bobo appropriated Chinese mythology and antiquity in his bid for power when taking on the dynasty name of Xia. On the other hand, his embrace of Xiongnu steppe heritage rejected ties with the Han regime to a far greater degree than preceding dynastic experiments seated in the same region. In 413, he discarded the Han royal name of Liu that so many preceding Ordos hordes had
232 Xiongnu adopted and fabricated a new lineage name of Helian to emphasize his “Prominent Connectivity” to Heaven. Within a few years he laid siege to Chang’an, gave himself the more grandiose Chinese title of Emperor, and made an alliance with the Juqu-Liang regime of Hexi. Instead of ruling from war-torn Chang’an or elsewhere in the Central Plains, he had a massive capital city built in the center of Ordos, from where he could expand his rule to the north and the south. High walls, towers, and palaces were erected for a capital that Emperor Helian Bobo claimed to symbolize “The Unified Tens of Thousands” (Tong-Wan) of lords and kingdoms he was to conquer. The city was soon filled with spoils from his victories.50 Yet much like the costly and boastful Central Asian city built by Zhizhi centuries before, this endeavor of Bobo was an overextension of resources by a nascent regime. He died in 425, and his so-called Xia dynasty lasted only a few years more before it, too, was overrun by Xianbei forces that ravaged the Ordos capital. By the end of the fifth century, the name of Xiongnu as an identity vaunted by rulers had faded from the eastern steppes. Occasional references occur in Chinese histories to frontier generals or steppe leaders who had circuitous ties, at best, to the expired lineages of the Great Chiefs.51 But once the Southern Xiongnu were disbanded, the last vestiges of the Luandi lineage and the political template of the Xiongnu regime seem to have dissolved. Only the designation of “Magnificent One” (Chanyu) remained, used most often as a secondary title in hybrid polities.52 After centuries of dilution, the dynasty name of Xiongnu blurred to become a broad cultural-cum-political designation, detached from any demonstrable lineage or ethnic connections to the expired nomadic empire. But the name somehow retained potency. As it spread into other areas of the Eurasian continent, it became an appellation of power for the taking, morphing from the original Hongai into Huna, Hon, Honai, Hun, and other renderings.53 These Hunnic names carried with them a heritage of noble hordes, swift armies, and colossal authority of a bygone nomadic empire that had spanned eastern and central Eurasia. In this manner, while the empire and its components perished, the legacy of the Xiongnu multiplied and pervaded the world. A Whole New World In the course of expanding military and economic ventures, the Xiongnu had been a relentless force that pushed the agendas of their Great Chiefs on local hordes and surrounding polities. Their conquests forced whole communities to relocate within their vast realms or, at times, entire populations to migrate considerable distances to new realms. Just as the growth of the empire radically
Hunnic Heritage 233 altered the politics and populations within the Mongolian steppe, so did it cause ripple effects of shifting geopolitics across the Eurasian continent. The most significant of the forced migrations triggered by Xiongnu expansion was that of the Yuezhi and their move into Central Asia.54 These hordes moved through regions of the Tian Shan, contributing to the disintegration of powerful Saka kingdoms. When they eventually settled in Bactria in the mid second century bce, the once powerful Greco-Bactrian kingdoms that had formed in the wake of Alexander the Great were in decline.55 The fractured Yuezhi hordes remained for a long time in their new bases in Bactria, rebuilding political strength. Many other nomadic regimes asserted control in Central Asia, including the Kangju in the Kazakh steppe and the Wusun who had pushed the Yuezhi out of their temporary domain in the Ili Valley. The next couple centuries were an era of Xiongnu power in Central Asia despite the presence of Kangju, Wusun, and Yuezhi hordes. But the rising Yabgu lords and hordes of these Yuezhi would eventually reign supreme over the heartlands of the so-called Silk Roads. The Xiongnu had been a driving force of long-distance exchange at the outset of the first Silk Roads era in the late first millennium bce. In their push to facilitate easier and more regular flows of resources from realms far away, the Great Chiefs helped transform regional networks of the continent into an even smaller world. Unlike the Han Chinese who followed in their wake of Eurasian ventures, the Xiongnu did not reach out with the establishment of costly and vulnerable colonial establishments. Instead, they dispatched enclaves of administrative generals with their own mobile hordes to transform preexisting local centers of production and exchange into pivotal nodes of a far wider network directed toward Inner Asia. Nomadic brigades entrenched in disparate nodes across Central Asia paved the way for other intruding imperial networks, like the Han, to drive external political and economic agendas within Eurasia toward the agendas of peripheral polities. In the wake of Xiongnu endeavors in Central Asia, beastly bronze badges of Xiongnu elite status spread across the continent. They were potent icons of far- reaching agents of the nomadic empire and inspired other versions to be fashioned by nomadic groups in Bactria as well as other areas spanning as far as the Black Sea.56 Even as the new line of Chanyus and Great Chiefs after Huhanye radically changed the materials of their political culture, rectangular bronze openwork belt plates and other accoutrements of Xiongnu prestige continued to be embraced by groups ostensibly subservient to the empire. Elites of Xianbei hordes along the eastern fringes of the empire had long employed badges of Xiongnu status. However, as assemblages of prestige changed at the turn of the millennium, they retained the old Xiongnu forms and added new themes and motifs of their own. Rectangular openwork belt plates were rendered more in gold than in bronze and depicted not only composite beasts but also a frequent theme of three deer in a forest.57 These remained prominent among
234 Xiongnu Xianbei hordes throughout the latter half of the Xiongnu era and into the third century as Xianbei forces overtook many Xiongnu realms. Xiongnu traditions of political power were the most compelling in eastern Eurasia, even to those generations following the demise of the Luandi ruling clan. Yet, by the end of the third century, as Xianbei tribes became the dominant force in eastern Eurasia, their leaders shed all vestiges of Xiongnu-style status and developed radically new forms of belts, coffins, graves, ceramic wares, and rituals.58 Only those practices that generally reflected mobile pastoral lifeways remained—offerings of heads and hooves of livestock and representations of mounted warriors and ox carts.59 Early Xianbei leaders of the second century had attempted to adapt political institutions of the Xiongnu in their endeavors to establish lasting new regimes. Several decades after the last northern chanyu died, the Xianbei chief Tanshihuai garnered a great force of hordes with which he formed a confederacy spanning from the Xing’an Mountains in the east to Dunhuang of the Hexi Corridor in the west. He instated a tripartite division of East, Center, and West that bore some resemblance to the dual Left and Right divisions of the Xiongnu Empire. However, East and West were not referred to as Left and Right, and neither were political rankings divided between Left and Right as they had been under the Xiongnu. No kingly or chiefly titles of the Xiongnu, including the ultimate title of chanyu, were employed, and there is no indication of a decimal system. None of the steppe lineages, noble or otherwise, from the Xiongnu empire was integrated into the new confederacy; only tribes of Xianbei origin held status.60 In this vein, sites like Airagiin Gozgor seem more like far-flung colonies of ambitious Xianbei hordes and less like evidence of a Xianbei empire seated in the Mongolian steppe. The apparent lack of either a structured organization like the decimal system or a multitiered political hierarchy with established titles not only sets the conventions of this Xianbei entity apart from that of the preceding Xiongnu, but it may also help explain why Tanshihuai’s regime disintegrated so quickly.61 Whereas Tanshihuai’s Inner Asian regime failed to succeed the Xiongnu, Yabgu Lords of the Kushan clan, descendants of the Yuezhi who fled Xiongnu assaults, expanded out from Bactria and across the Tian Shan and Pamir ranges in the aftermath of the fall of the Xiongnu to establish an empire of mobilities seated in Central Asia.62 The initial Greco-styled “tyrant” ruler of the Kushan in the early first century was succeeded by a “King of the Kushan” who ruled for half a century and launched conquests far and wide. By the early second century, as Xianbei hordes spilled into the Mongolian grasslands of the crumbling Xiongnu Empire, the Kushan “King of Kings” ruled a prosperous domain that spanned from Fergana to the Indus Valley.63 The Kushan polity was certainly different from the Xiongnu, but they had learned well from their steppe predecessors how to formulate a cosmopolitan
Hunnic Heritage 235 regime that embraced multitudes of cultures and traditions— the most famous being the relation between the spread of the Kushan and the spread of Buddhism.64 Their empire thrived on a diverse economy and the control of mobilities—of people, products, and knowledge. They, like the Xiongnu, were more than mere middle-men of Eurasia, and their regime radically changed the cultures and economies of Central Asia and the worlds around them.65 Centuries passed before any regime would attempt to establish a lasting polity in the Mongolian steppe on the scale of the Xiongnu Empire. In the fifth century, a petty chief named Shelun, who had fled westward from Tuoba-Xianbei overlords of the Ordos-based Wei dynasty, seems to have implemented far more Xiongnu-style institutions than preceding political experiments. He joined the forces of his Yujiulü clan with the large tribe of Hulu, subjugated numerous steppe hordes outside of the Ordos, and quelled the Tiele northerners who were still intruding from the Sayan-Altai. Wielding this conglomerate of steppe groups beneath him, he endeavored to build a steppe regime. Under his leadership, these collective hordes pushed northward from their southern Mongolian base to subdue powerful tribes like the Bayeji, which had become entrenched in the old Xiongnu heartland of the Khangai. Then, in 402, Shelun took on the presumptuous title of qaghan (i.e., khan) with the appellation qiudoufa—a khan who “rules and leads to expansion”—to proclaim his new confederacy of Rouran hordes.66 The Rouran were the opposite of other pseudo-Xiongnu regimes. While the Tiefu in Ordos were rising up with a ruler entitled both Emperor and Chanyu, the Rouran ruler Shelun purposefully adopted the potent Xianbei title of qaghan, rather than the outdated title of chanyu; although Shelun also made this choice in order to blatantly challenge his Tuoba-Xianbei adversaries. A qaghan of the Inner Asian steppe was now pitted against a qaghan of northern China. But beneath this Xianbei title, the Rouran adopted institutions derived from the Xiongnu, ones which had likely remained in use, to some degree, among local elites in the Mongolian steppe. Xiongnu traditions were an attractive model as they had enabled the old empire to maintain a successful regime over all of Inner Asia for so many generations.67 At the apex of the Rouran confederacy, Shelun placed his own clan, the Yujiulü, as the royal clan with exclusive rights to the position of qaghan ruler. Successions were direct to sons, brothers, and uncles, and the lineage retained authority even through leaps to distant kin, as it did with the establishment of the third Rouran ruler Datan in 414. The immediate subordinate lords of the Rouran qaghan seem to have been less structured. They were each given names indicative of their personal achievements, but these were individual appellations rather than established rank titles.68 A collection of Rouran titles are scattered throughout the Chinese records, but there is no indication of an organized multilevel hierarchy of formal hereditary titles of
236 Xiongnu the kind that existed with the Great Chiefs of the Xiongnu.69 Some official titles appear with the ascription of Left, implying remnants of the conventions of Left and Right political partitioning of the Xiongnu, but there is only a brief intimation of east and west domain divisions under Rouran control without any explicit Left or Right designations. They enacted a decimal structure for their military, with troop units of thousands under Generals and banner units of hundreds under Commanders. But this appears far less hierarchical and integrative than the Xiongnu decimal system. There was no uppermost level of Tens of Thousands, further suggesting the lack of an exclusive upper echelon of well-established imperial nobles equivalent to the Great Chiefs who could better integrate a supraregional polity. There was also no smaller level of Tens that would indicate an incorporation of lesser local chiefs and households directly into a unified political matrix. Most importantly, the decimal designations appear not to have extended beyond the mobilization of armies, thus lacking the social component of organizing communities for the polity, an institution that had played such a critical role in Xiongnu society. Rouran tribes operated in supposedly the same domains as the Xiongnu, spanning from the Xing’an Mountains in the East to the Yanqi Basin in the West, and likely relied on communities that had been at the core of Xiongnu society. The Rouran were recorded in Chinese histories as loosely descended from lesser “other” stock of the Xiongnu during the era of imperial collapse, from among the “several hundreds to thousands of tribes [that rose up] each with its own name.” The standard phrases of steppe lifeways that had once characterized Xiongnu communities were applied to the Rouran, as being “without inner and outer walls, following water and grass to graze livestock, and using vaulted huts for homes.” In a world of rapidly changing customs among northern groups that emulated new rituals, clothing, and hairstyles of Xianbei tribes, those of the Rouran seemed to preserve conventions of the long-gone Xiongnu. “[They] braid hair, dress in [garments of] multi-colored cloth, have short-sleeved robes, small waist trousers, and deep boots.”70 Xiongnu customs and institutions were present to a certain degree, preserved by lineages descended from those who had participated in the Xiongnu Empire several generations before. Yet their conventions seem greatly diluted in their application. Regardless of the numerous accounts of military and diplomatic maneuvers of the Rouran confederacy, there are surprisingly little to no material remains that would indicate the presence of a pervasive and powerful Eurasian empire based in the Mongolian steppes. There are no palatial enclosures, monuments, or large ritual complexes.71 There are no substantial cemeteries of well-established lineages and no ostentatious tombs that would signal a host of hordes with bounteous wealth from across Eurasian domains. Very few textual or material records exist for piecing together a political culture as robust as the Xiongnu.
Hunnic Heritage 237 Only a handful of archaeological sites in Mongolia can be directly attributed to the Rouran.72 In one case, a single grave was stuck into a structure of the abandoned Xiongnu ritual site in Tamir Valley.73 In another instance, Rouran-era graves were stuck into burial grounds of Xiongnu circular graves.74 From the graves that have been found and unearthed in Inner Asia, there appear but a handful of objects particular to this time and region that intimate the emergence of a material culture specific to the Rouran, namely the crescent-shaped pectoral plates.75 But the current dearth of Rouran-era remains, especially in the Mongolian grasslands that were supposedly the heartland of the confederacy, pales in comparison to those of the Xiongnu era. We must therefore question to what degree the Rouran were politically dominant, or cohesive, and to what degree they controlled the extensive households and resources of the lands that they supposedly conquered. Much of the constructed historical narrative of the Rouran is embedded within the legacy of the Xiongnu. The Rouran, like so many other steppe-derived polities that occupied northern areas, were described by Chinese chroniclers in terms of how they related to the Xiongnu precedent. Even Rouran assaults into Sogdian lands of Central Asia are retold as “Xiongnu” conquests.76 The disparate Rouran tribes were far from the centralized dominant Inner Asian empire of their Inner Asian predecessors, and their story resides heavily under the shadow of the Xiongnu. Within several decades after the Rouran confederacy was formed, it was overshadowed by a contemporary polity that had conquered all of Ordos, Hexi and the Central Plains—the Wei dynasty established by Tuoba-Xianbei groups.77 It was far greater than the Southern Xiongnu, a small polity wedged between large empires; it was an expansive polity that exerted control over much to its north and south. Their armies were skilled in steppe warfare and managed to beat back the steppe forces of Rouran hordes.78 A host of other powerful nomad regimes emerged on the edges of the supposed Rouran realms—the Tiele “High Cart” tribes infringing from the northwest and the rising Hephthalite “White Huns” to the west. These surrounding regimes appear to have stifled Rouran hegemony in Central Asia, and their persistence might help explain the relatively sparse footprint left by the Rouran.79 As the Rouran confederacy began to wane under pressure from the Tuoba and others in the eastern end of Eurasia, another nomadic confederacy rose rapidly at the far western end of Eurasia.80 Tribes which came to be known as the Huns had migrated in from somewhere beyond the Pontic Steppe and taken hold of eastern realms in Europe. In 434, their leader Attila united them and launched a series of raids and conquests that cut deep into the Roman world, invading Gaul and Italia itself. Generations upon generations of scholars have argued for an ethnic equivalency of the Huns to the Xiongnu, and some have even proposed a political
238 Xiongnu equivalency.81 But just as careful studies of the linguistic and archaeological evidence dispel any notions of an Eastern Xiongnu to Western Hun ethnic or cultural equation, so does a closer critique of the political institutions used for Attila’s regime demonstrate significant differences in these nomadic entities.82 Rather than a singular “Magnificent” ruler who commanded a host of hereditary Great Chiefs, the Huns instituted a practice of dual rulership. The Hun rulers, called rex (king) by Roman accounts, partitioned their constituents under a plethora of sub-kings with ranks and territories. But such practices reflect general characteristics of any complex polity, not necessarily one that bore a decimal organization of armies and households. Their society comprised a plethora of Horse Lords, but none was dubbed Lord of “X-Decimal-Number of Cavalry” in the Xiongnu decimal style. And while Left was the position of honor in Xiongnu society, Right was the honorable position among the Huns of Attila. The Huns that raided Western Europe were a massive powerful force, though seemingly not a durable structured polity and certainly not a specifically Xiongnu-style polity. Like the regime of Tanshihuai centuries earlier, the Hun regime of Attila dissipated after the death of its founder in 453. The tribes under Attila brandished the name that bore the most powerful legacy of might and authority emulating from deep within the Eurasian steppe, one which had grown with potency as it moved westward across the continent. Even if Attila did not found a lasting regime, the Xiongnu and some of its political successors had shown that a large and enduring steppe-based polity was possible. It was not until the Türkic tribes of the sixth century overthrew the Rouran hordes that a reproduction of the Xiongnu template for empire—one of a supple political order and a salient political culture—was successfully implemented.83 By the time of the Türks, no entities, ethnic or political, bore the name Xiongnu or even Hun. But the Xiongnu were far from forgotten.84 They endured as both prototype and archetype. Pacifying the Barbarians Among societies that had been most heavily affected by the nomadic empire, namely those of the Chinese Central Plains, the Xiongnu represented all steppe “barbarians.” In the course of Tuoba–Xianbei conflicts with their northern Rouran neighbors, advisors to the Wei ruler directly cited the precedent of borders delineated according to “Han in the South and Chanyu in the North.”85 Despite the numerous steppe constituents and the non-Chinese royalty of the Wei, ministers at court placed their Xianbei state in the role of Han as pitted against the Xiongnu-equated Rouran simply because of the geographic positions of the two qaghan polities. The case of the Xiongnu continued to pervade policies at court and folklore in the provinces, even well after the Xiongnu regime had faded.
Hunnic Heritage 239 During the era of the Türk and Tang empires, a scholarly genre of literary aides for governance emerged, ones in which strategies for military as well as diplomatic engagements with northerners drew most heavily upon tales of Han– Xiongnu interactions. The Comprehensive Cannon (Tongdian) for governing compiled during the Tang dynasty contained copious references to Han treaties with and campaigns against the Xiongnu, including three whole chapters dedicated to the Xiongnu in the section on border defense.86 In the mid ninth century, as the Uyghur steppe empire shattered under invasions from tribes in the Sayan- Altai, hordes and households of the Uyghur flooded the Chinese borderlands. In letters sent by Tang officials at the frontier to the ministers at court, they made repeated references to the detrimental costs of “Xiongnu hordes” that had inundated the frontier.87 Over a century later, under the next Chinese dynasty of Song, encyclopedic compilations like the Taiping Era Reader for the Emperor (Taiping Yulan) and the Comprehensive Mirror in Aid of Governance (Zizhi Tongjian) were riddled with tales and anecdotes of the Xiongnu, which served as models of how to deal with foreign entities. ##These official court compendia were even embellished with historical-fiction battle narratives of the Han against the Xiongnu, refashioned with fanatic detail for the Song emperor and his court.88 Many historical events and historical figures were altered over time, sometimes with the iconic Xiongnu taking on a role that had never been there before. The famous story of Mulan was originally a fifth-century tale of a woman rising from within the Xianbei society of the Wei as they were fighting against incursions from Rouran hordes, but the tale was not recorded as a ballad until the sixth century. Over time, it was retold as the story of a seventh-century woman from the Chinese Tang empire fighting against hordes of the steppe Türkic empire, rendering it through a much clearer Chinese-versus-steppe cultural dichotomy. Centuries upon centuries after the legendary Xianbei woman supposedly fought off Rouran nomads, the story of Mulan blended with generations of tales in Eastern Asia about the Xiongnu and tales in Europe about the Huns who had all mutated far beyond any historical reality. Then, in our modern era, the story was at long last transformed by Disney’s movie Mulan into a tale overrun by the ominous beastly figure of “Shan-Yu” (i.e., Chanyu) and swarms of raiding “Huns,” all fended off by a young “Chinese” woman and her fledgling troupe.89 Yet Mulan was far from the only female figure in Chinese folklore who was mythicized for her ability to ward off barbarian offensives from the northern steppes. And, in most cases, it was supposedly accomplished through cultural savvy rather than military capabilities. In many mytho-historical accounts, it was the force of a civilized culture, often embodied in a Chinese counselor or bride, rather than any military valiance that mollified the northern threats. The most famous woman in lore surrounding the Xiongnu adversaries was Wang Zhaojun—the Chinese consort of Huhanye
240 Xiongnu Chanyu who came to be called The Yanzhi-Wife Who Pacified the Northerners.90 Han era accounts about her life are scant, mentioning only that she was a bride gift to Huhanye, and that, after his death, she was taken as a wife by his son, the next chanyu. She was not the primary wife of either chanyu, but she bore two sons and two daughters for the Xiongnu rulers, and they all received noble imperial ranks among the Xiongnu.91 Over the course of the early first millennium, after the fall of the Xiongnu Empire, tales emerged of this Chinese bride and her offspring as being effective agents who soothed relations between the Han and the Xiongnu, halting aggressions and fostering sympathy and acculturation toward Chinese society. In the fifth century, she was canonized as one of the Worthy Beauties of history in the folklore compendium New Accounts of Tales of the World.92 Increasingly embellished tales surrounding this historical figure took on new plots and characters and sometimes radically altered historical facts to serve political and social agendas.93 Yet all the while Lady Wang embodied the notion that Hu-Northerners and their leaders like Huhanye Chanyu could be overcome by wielding Chinese culture. Just as this Chinese bride for Huhanye was not the politically pacifying figure we have come to know, the frontier oath ceremony that Huhanye consecrated with Chinese emissaries was not the kiss of death for the Xiongnu Empire. On the contrary, this event marked the beginning of a new era of even greater Xiongnu power. The Xiongnu were not pacified by Han brides, Han culture, or Han attacks. This contradiction highlights the necessity of questioning inherited historical narratives, especially when they are recycled with fictionalizing mutations. It calls for a radical restructuring of the story of the Xiongnu with the aid of both new perspectives and new data, namely that of archaeology. I have endeavored to show in this book how material remains can work together with historical records to present a picture vastly more detailed and profoundly different from conventional narratives, scholarly or otherwise, for the entire course of the nomadic empire. The resulting story is one not of brittle barbaric power or an easily pacified polity, but one of sophisticated developments and flourishing dominance by northern steppe people on the continental stage of Eurasia.
Epilogue
I
began this chronicle of the Xiongnu in medias res with Huhanye Chanyu and his blood oath ceremony. It was an event in which Han Chinese emissaries participated, and later recorded, but one which the Xiongnu controlled. This moment, in the middle of the long life of the nomadic empire, when the conventional story of the Xiongnu turns to tales of weakness and decay, provides an ideal point at which to turn the traditional narrative inside out and have the Xiongnu take center stage. Yet while some scholars have endeavored to exalt nomadic regimes like the Xiongnu, most portrayals of nomads continue to relegate them to the sidelines of history, as uncivilized phantom menaces, and as the breakers rather than the makers of states. If we are to undo the presupposition of nomads as the antithesis of the state, we must do more than merely allude to alternative perspectives. We must peel back the hardened layers that reinforce simplified accounts and dissect entire bodies of nomadic entities with the same nuanced introspection applied to other societies. In this book I have endeavored to provide as much detail as both textual and archaeological records allow, to openly lay out the minutia of analyses for the reader, and to complexify the portrayal of nomadic societies. Only through comprehensive engagements with full corpuses of materials can we supply the necessary evidence to reconfigure the prevailing narratives and overturn notions of nomadic polities as historical conundrums. Empires like the Xiongnu are not enigmas. They may be in need of more data than we currently have, but nomadic regimes were not unstructured or inefficient, as archetypes of nomads so frequently suggest, and they did not lack the bases for thriving economies or efficacious political institutions. We should see nomadic practices not as the antithesis of the state but rather as embodying the ideals of the state, for diversifying, mobilizing and enlarging resources. Nomadic regimes should serve as reminders that political stability lies not in stiffness but in flexibility.
241
242 Epilogue Successful states are not political machines of the sort that so many historical schemes project. They have structure but they are more organic than systematic. In Cosmos, the voluminous treatise on the natural world, early scientist Alexander von Humboldt argued that Nature in its totality was not a perfect harmonious order but rather an organic entity replete with resilient adaptations. So should we view polities, especially nomadic ones, not as static machines but as living adaptive organisms. It is in this vein that I argue the Xiongnu nomadic empire was a particularly resilient organism that grew, adapted, and thrived, and served as the political prototype for other regimes. And through this, I have endeavored to offer a more robust story of the full life of the Xiongnu Empire and its legacy. The Xiongnu most certainly carry with them connotations of undaunted continental dominance, but their impact came not just from their mounted armies. They were the ultimate model for political success and supremacy in Eurasia used by many subsequent aspiring continental regimes, including the largest and most famous one, the Mongols, more than a thousand years later. Like the Xiongnu chanyus, the Mongol khans triggered massive geopolitical shifts and were pioneers of global ventures. They fostered the integration of Eurasian networks, implemented interregional value standards for commodities, and induced an era of transcontinental prosperity dubbed Pax Mongolica, or the Mongol Exchange.1 Most of the political institutions for which the Mongol khans are famous were not invented by them; they were merely well implemented and further developed by them. Chinggis Khan and his successors were fully cognizant of the Xiongnu precedents. They already knew of the feasibility of collective sovereignty and the potential of the decimal system to unify the entire steppe into a centralized political entity. They knew the best strategies for conquering while productively integrating each of the various populations in Chinese, Siberian, and Central Asian realms around them. Like the Left and Right kings and lords of the Xiongnu, the Mongols established Left and Right regional khans to partition authority among royal chiefs and their hordes who were still under the authority of the grand khan. And like the danghu agents of the Xiongnu, the Mongols relied upon directly appointed darugachi agents of the grand khan who “pressed” the agendas of the Mongol rulers and were official “Mongol residents” stationed amid local hordes with administrative powers.2 The emblem of the Mongol state declared by Chinggis Khan bore the symbols of sun and moon and fire, which also sit at the center of the flag of the modern nation of Mongolia. These icons were certainly a known legacy of their Xiongnu predecessors, whose elite nobles brandished the sun and moon emblem as symbols of the authority and legitimacy of the imperial regime. Hence, the Mongols were indeed masterful politicians; not because they devised so many new strategies, but because they were astute pupils of their own Inner Asian history, of the tradition of steppe empire enacted by the Xiongnu and employed by so many regimes afterward.
Epilogue 243 The Xiongnu legacy should thus not be one of uncivilized phantom menaces but of political pioneers. Their empire had continental-scale geopolitical impacts, and they were sophisticated drivers of history. So while Chinggis Khan and his Mongol regime take an irrefutable place on the center stage in world history—as they do in the central square of the capital city of Ulaanbaatar and on Mongolian currency bills—so are the Xiongnu justifiably as prominent a milestone both for cultural heritage in Mongolia and in the larger schemes of world history. This is a historical legacy well known in modern Mongolia, and one woven into pop culture and business practice. The Xiongnu, called Hunnu (Khünnü) in modern Mongolian language, pervade Mongolian cultural consciousness. The Mongolian rock band The Hu, for instance, do more than allude to the famous British rock band The Who; their name purposefully evokes the millennia old appellation of “steppe northerners” of the Mongolian grasslands—the Hu. Adding to this allusion to deep cultural heritage, their logo borrows from a horned composite beast that appears on gold horse ornaments discovered in the massive royal Xiongnu tomb at Gol Mod II. One version of this rock band’s logo even lengthens their name from Hu to Hunnu. The name Hunnu has also been applied to modern economic ventures, as it projects both pride and clout. The Hunnu Air company proclaims rapid winged mobility between distant areas of Mongolia; Hunnu Tamga company produces official seals for the urban inhabitants of Ulaanbaatar; and Hunnu Art jewelry companies market luxury goods. The Hunnu Shopping Mall at the southern edge of Ulaanbaatar, with its gold replicas of animal style belt plates standing several stories high and plastered on the exterior walls, is promoted as a cosmopolitan center of commerce and entertainment. Its slogan boasts it to be a “Palace of Fun and Fortune.” These references to the “Hunnu” within Mongolia differ greatly from the more popular versions of the Xiongnu rehashed in comic books, television shows, and movies elsewhere in the world. For the cultural and political sophistications of the Xiongnu have been diluted through millennia of historical treatises and folklore by those outside the steppe, and modern popular culture narratives, which so often masquerade as historical fact, have done much the same. But the real story of the Xiongnu is far more complex and intriguing. Their legacy is one of sophistication and lasting impact. The details for a more robust understanding have always been at hand, and now, with the ever-growing corpus of archaeological remains, information contrary to prejudicial and mytho- historical renderings is profuse. Hence, we can—and should—endeavor to revitalize voices of the herders and hordes of the Xiongnu Empire and let them take their central place on the stage of world history.
Appendix (Chanyu Rulers)
245
Notes
Prologue 1. Hanshu 94B, 3801.
Chapter 1 1. In one of the earliest treatises on the full corpus of material culture of the Xiongnu, Ts. Dorjsüren (1961) collated the array of markings to present them as a system of symbols. Following this line of research, Z. Batsaikhan (1994; 2002, 223–226; 2011, 128) has reiterated their function in “state affairs” of the Xiongnu regime. 2. Shinekhüü 1977. Ts. Shagdarsüren (2001) has also argued for influence from the script developed by Sogdians of Central Asia not only on the marking system used by the Xiongnu but also on what eventually became the formal writing system of the Gok-Türks centuries later. 3. Shiji 110, 2879. 4. Shiji 110, 2892. 5. Hou Hanshu 90, 2979; Weishu 103, 2290. 6. E.g., Ascher and Ascher 1981. 7. Shiji 110, 2899. 8. Törbat and Giscard 2015. 9. Pekka Hämäläinen has led this new thrust in revisionist history through case studies of the Comanches (2008) and Lakota (2019). Archaeologists working in the Great Plains, for example Lindsay Montgomery (2019), have also worked to redefine how nomadic economies bolster and structure imperial polities. 10. Hämäläinen 2008, 3–4. 11. Cf. Morris and Scheidel 2009. 12. These differing depictions are represented primarily in the works of T. Barfield (1989; 2001) and N. Di Cosmo (1999a; 2002), although most scholarship of the past couple
247
248 Notes decades has come to discount the notions of complete exterior dependency and interior fragmentation proposed by Barfield. 13. Kradin 2001; 2011. 14. Honeychurch 2013. 15. Honeychurch (2015, 53–54) provides a succinct discussion of the many scholars and scholarly opinions on the political nature of the Xiongnu regime as they pertain to history and archaeology. While he is rightly cautious in applying traditional labels, he does ascribe a status of formal polity with imperial characteristics to the Xiongnu. 16. Bang, Baylay, and Scheidel 2020. All empires of the so-called Axial Age of Eurasia, from Rome to China and even the Central Asian Kushans, are addressed in the volumes except for one—the Xiongnu. Other comparative studies of empires either relegate the Xiongnu Empire to a lesser status of weak or loose polity (e.g., Turchin 2009) or ignore nomadic empires until the advent of the Mongols (e.g., Burbank and Cooper 2010). 17. A. T. Smith 2003. 18. Irons and Dyson-Hudson 1972; Weissleder 1978; Barfield 1993. 19. In the case of the Xiongnu, this historical assertion has been argued most resolutely in the work of ethnographer T. Barfield (1981; 1989; 2001)—a sentiment about mobility that is reiterated in the work of historian J. C. Scott (2009). 20. Houle et al. 2022. 21. Esp. Honeychurch 2014. 22. Dyson-Hudson 1972. 23. See critiques in Hanks 2010 and Frachetti 2012. 24. The early work by A. Khazanov (1983) outlines a broad spectrum of different kinds of “nomadism” that entails a variety of environments, herds, movement patterns, and subsistence patterns. See also critiques of “pastoral” oversimplifications in Hammer and Arbuckle 2017. 25. See the Greek nomás “pasturing flocks” and némein “to pasture out” or “to partition out” animals to different pastures. Hence, the label of “nomadic pastoral” is actually repetitious, equivalent to saying “pasturing pastoralist.” 26. See especially Cribb 1991. Wendrich and Barnard (2008) present archaeological approaches to the spectrum of mobile societies spanning from hunter-gatherers to pastoralists. If we take “nomad” by its origins of merely “pastoral’ then the dual terms of “nomadic pastoralism” and “pastoral nomadism” seem redundant. For this reason, many scholars speak in terms of “mobile pastoralism” when dissecting the binome of “nomadism.” These semantic deliberations are noteworthy in that they detach pastoral engagements from necessarily mobile ones, especially in the case of steppe communities which, in being characterized as nomadic, are unnecessarily deemed constantly on the move. 27. Baas et al. 2012. For ethno-archaeological research on the movements of livestock herds in the Altai, for example, see Lazzerini et al. 2021. 28. See Salzman 1972 “multi-resource nomadism.” See also Bar-Yosef and Khazanov 1992. 29. Simukov 1933; 1934a. 30. In keeping with the root meaning of “to pasture,” I therefore use the term “nomadism” to denote, first, a reliance on raising domesticated grazing animals and, second, a
Notes 249 retained potential for mobility of households in order to take their herds to other pastures. 31. Hermes et al. 2019; Ventresca Miller et al. 2020a; for strategies of modern Mongolians to prepare for winter, see Murphy 2014. 32. See discussion of forms of pastoral capital in Borgerhoff Mulder et al. 2010. 33. See Murphy 2018 for examples from modern Mongolia; Xie and Li 2008 for cases from modern Inner Mongolia. 34. Simukov 1933. 35. Fernández-Giménez 1999; Humphrey and Sneath 1999; Murphy 2015; Clark and Crabtree 2015. 36. Swidler 1972. These fluid collections of herder households structured through, but not limited to, kinship ties are basic units equivalent to the “house groups” of society as outlined in Lévi-Strauss 1982. Batsaikhan (2011, 36) has proposed similar arguments for speaking of steppe communities during the Xiongnu era in terms of khot-ail community units, drawing also on the work of Soviet (e.g., Vladimirtsov 1934) and Mongolian (Gongor 1978) ethnographic and historical research. 37. This description comes from the annals of a traveling Chinese alchemist who visited the horde camp of a Mongol empress, translated here from the original in Li 1926 (Wang Guowei), 281–282; see also Atwood 2015b, 325–327. 38. See accounts of William of Rubruck, translated in Jackson and Morgan 1990, 131. Remnants of wooden cart pieces and drawings of tent carts are discussed in more detail in Miller 2012. For history of the use of the term ordo, see Atwood 2004, 426–427. 39. For further discussion of “horde” as a political unit among the Mongols, see Favereau 2021. 40. Atwood 2015b. 41. Borgerhoff Mulder et al. 2010. 42. See papers in Feinman and Marcus 1998 Archaic States. 43. See summary of term and its early uses in Gu 1980. 44. Shiji 123, 3161; Hanshu 96A, 3883; 96A, 3890; 96B, 3901. This phrase was repeatedly applied to Eurasian pastoral groups mentioned in the Han annals. 45. Scott 2009. 46. Deleuze and Guattari 1986, 5. 47. The stark division of militarism (wu) and literati (wen) approaches purported in the works of some Chinese court ministers was not a reality in the practice of any of the regimes that ruled China; see Di Cosmo 2009b. 48. Shiji 97, 2699. 49. Beishi 88, 2704; Weishu 84, 1841. 50. Yuanshi 157, 3688. 51. See arguments for sinicization of Manchu rulers in Ruling from Horseback (Oxnam 1975), a model that has been repeatedly debunked by numerous scholars including Dardess 1978; Bol 1987; Crossley 1990; Rawski 1998; Sen 2002; Standen 2006; Rowe 2009. 52. Eisenstadt 1963. 53. For example, Barfield at first (1989) classifies the Xiongnu as a confederacy and later deems it a sort of “shadow” empire (2001).
250 Notes 54. Mann 1986. 55. Star Wars Lucas 1977. 56. Atwood 2015b. 57. Di Cosmo 2002; Hämäläinen 2008; Kradin 2011. 58. Honeychurch 2014. 59. Khatchadourian 2016, 69– 70, see also discussion of material assemblages for operationalizing politics in Miller Forthcoming. 60. Morehart 2014. 61. See, for example, the regional differences in herd compositions across Mongolia as documented in the early twentieth century by A. Simukov (1934a, 1934b). 62. See different modalities of “territoriality” in Van Valkenburgh and Osborne 2013. 63. Cf. A. T. Smith 2003 and the discussions of temples and urban structures of the landscapes of complex polities. 64. Comparisons between the Han and Roman empires (e.g., Scheidel 2009), while certainly viable in many respects, run the risk of furthering the notion that the regions between (i.e., Inner and Central Asia) are of little political consequence to a discussion of empire during this era. 65. Cf. V. G. Childe 1950. Even the narratives of Killing Civilization (Jennings 2016), which rightly criticizes the baggage associated with the label of civilization, begin first with the assumption of population density and urbanism as the origins of complexity. Other scholars render “civilization” simply as something born out of any kind of “class-based society” (Trigger 2003). 66. A. T. Smith 2003. 67. Larkin 2013, 328. 68. Ballantyne 2014. 69. Drompp 2018, 302–304. 70. Ballantyne (2014, 7), citing Chaunu (1969), emphasizes the equivalent ability of maritime empires of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries to “prise open” polities and regions across the globe. 71. Cf. Cresswell 2010. 72. Frachetti 2008, 22–24. 73. Pederson 2003; Hammer 2014. See the corollary discussion of ecological “hotspots” created by pastoral practices in Porenskya et al. 2013. 74. Sensu Massey 1999 “politics of space.” 75. Jennings 2006. 76. Parker 2003; Alconini 2005. 77. see Khatchadourian 2016 for a discussion of the different forms and functions of such imperial matter. 78. Baines and Yoffee 1998; Wilson 2000; A. T. Smith 2011. 79. Cf. Blanton 1998; Marcus 1998. 80. Hämäläinen 2013. This paradigm of nomadic empires as action-based kinetic entities stems from Hämäläinen’s (2008) opus on the Comanche Empire. 81. Burton Watson (1993, 129) translates the ancient Chinese accounts as saying “wandering” for the Xiongnu herders, though the original text literally states “following the livestock to pasture [them] and shifting in migration” (Shiji 110, 2879).
Notes 251 82. Ventresca Miller et al. 2020b. 83. E.g., Lieberman 2003; 2009. 84. Frankopan 2018. 85. These are but two examples of fictionalized historical steppe nomads (Mulan, Bancroft and Cook 1998) and purely fictional ones (A Song of Ice and Fire book series, e.g., Martin 1996). 86. Christian 1994; 2000; Di Cosmo 2002; Amitai and Biran 2014; Honeychurch 2015; Brosseder and Miller 2018. 87. E.g., Cunliffe 2015, in which Eurasia is the focus, yet steppe societies are still deemed secondary to those outside of central Eurasia. 88. Man 2019. 89. Hämäläinen 2019, 7. 90. Summaries and content critiques in Loewe 1993b (Yantielun) and Nylan 1993 (Xinshu). 91. Dunhuang Hanjian and Juyan Hanjian. For a thorough study of content in these frontier documents related to the Xiongnu, see Giele 2011. 92. Bielenstein and Loewe 1993. The Hanji is also known as the Dongguan Hanji. 93. For a comparison of (Dongguan) Hanji reconstructed contents versus the contents of the Hou Hanshu, see Bielenstein 1954. 94. Hulsewé 1993 (Hanshu) and Ess 2015 (Hou Hanshu); for translations of chapters of the Hanshu related to the Western Regions, see Hulsewé and Loewe 1979. Translations of the Shiji include the multiple-volume endeavors of Édouard Chavannes (1905), Burton Watson (1993), and the continuing Grand Scribe’s Records translation project (Indiana University Press; e.g., Giele 2010). 95. For example, the early second century bce essays of Jia Yi extant now in a late first- century bce version edited by Liu Xiang; see Nylan 1993. 96. See summary of Zhanguoce, compiled by Liu Xiang and others, in Tsien 1993. 97. Di Cosmo 2002. 98. Liebmann 2008; Cipolla 2013. Much of this turn began with Eric Wolf ’s (1982) Europe and the People Without History, but archaeological as well as historical research has since become part of this movement; see Honeychurch 2010 for the case of investigating Mongolia’s ancient past. 99. See discussions of Chinese normative narratives in Di Cosmo 2002. Cf. Greek narratives of the Scythians in Hartog 1988. 100. Tal’ko-Gryntsevich 1905. See also Brosseder and Miller 2011, 22–25; Polos’mak et al. 2011, 10–51. 101. Dorjsüren 1961. 102. Konovalov 1976; Minyaev 1998; Törbat et al. 2003. 103. Törbat 2004; Kradin et al. 2004. 104. Davydova 1960; Perlee 1961; Danilov 2005. 105. Davydova 1980. 106. Honeychurch et al. 2007; Wright et al. 2009; Houle 2015; Houle et al. 2022; Gardner and Burentogtokh 2018. 107. Törbat et al. 2009; Amartüvshin et al. 2019b; Buyeo and Institute MAS 2010; 2011; 2015.
252 Notes 108. For example, the continual work in Tuva at the Sayan- Shushenskoe reservoir (Kilunovskaya and Leus 2017; 2020), as well as extensive salvage work in preparation for flooding from dam-building in Bulgan and Khovd provinces of Mongolia. 109. For a recent summary of CRM work in Mongolia, see Amartüvshin et al. 2019a. 110. Early efforts of microscopic materials studies, before the recent swell, include analyses of metals (Minyaev 1977) and pottery (Hall and Minyaev 2002) of the Xiongnu. 111. Park et al. 2010; 2011; 2015; 2016; 2017. This includes the excavation of iron workshops and the analyses of debris found there; see Sasada and Amartüvshin 2014; Ishtseren and Sasada 2018; Brosseder et al. 2023. 112. Makarewicz 2011; 2017. 113. Ventresca Miller and Makarewicz 2019; Wilkin et al. 2020a; Kradin et al. 2021. 114. Wilkin et al. 2020b. For early evidence of dairy consumption in Mongolia see Jeong et al. 2018 and Ventresca Miller et al. 2022. 115. Machicek et al. 2019. 116. Keyser-Tracqui et al. 2003. 117. Jeong et al. 2020; Lee and Miller et al. 2023. 118. Andrén 1998; Isayev 2006. 119. Flannery and Marcus 2012 ch. 23, and the notion of political epochs as a series of building generations. 120. Marcus 1998.
Chapter 2 1. The burial described here is Tomb 1 of Group 3 at Ak-Alakh cemetery in the Altai Mountains, location at Figure 2.2 and tomb drawing in Figure 2.4; see Polos’mak 1998. 2. Cf. Haas ed. 2001 From Leaders to Rulers. 3. For a detailed study of emergent Iron Age states which similarly do not conform to conventional checklists of material evidence for formal states, see Thurston 2001 Landscapes of Power, Landscapes of Conflict. 4. “Inner Asia” is defined here in the same fashion as early scholars such as Owen Lattimore have done; namely, as the Eurasian steppe lands eastward from and including the Tian Shan and Altai Mountains across to the plains over the Xing’an Mountains. This is not to be confused with the label of “Central Asia,” which refers to the central regions of the Eurasian continent, westward from the Altai and including the “-stan” nations of the previous Soviet Union. 5. Lattimore 1940; cf. Humphrey and Sneath 1999. 6. Yantielun 7.2.2 (38). 7. Barfield 2001, 14. 8. Mu Tianzi zhuan; Shanhaijing. Mathieu 1978; Strassberg 2002. 9. Wu 1999; Falkenhausen 2006, ch. 6; Rawson 2013. In the case of pre-imperial East Asia, before the advent of the Chinese empires of Qin and Han that enveloped the Central Plains and the areas of the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers, it is more apt to refer to the collective societies and culture of that region as “Hua” instead of “Chinese,” hence the use of the term “Hua” throughout this chapter. 10. Zhanguoce 47; 228; 237; Yi Zhoushu 59.
Notes 253 11. Yi Zhoushu 59. 12. Accounts in the Biography of Mu the Son of Heaven (Mu Tianzi zhuan) are certainly embellished tales of the journeys of the early first millennium bce King of Zhou named Mu into Inner Asian realms. However, as the extant version of these tales was composed during the third or fourth century bce, the accounts within reflect knowledge and circumstances of the steppe worlds contemporaneous with the rising nomadic polities in the centuries before the Xiongnu empire, which are the focus of this chapter. Descriptions of Inner Asian groups with whom the Zhou King interacted were consistently identified as “lineages” (shi) of different names, recognizing that well- established lineage groups maintained control in most of the Inner Asian societies. For a critique of the content, composition, and authenticity of the Mu Tianzi zhuan, see Mathieu 1993. 13. Cf. Renfrew 1986; Schortman 1989. 14. See the comparable discussion of the “small world” of central Eurasia and the “strength of weak ties” between distinct steppe societies in Brosseder and Miller 2018; for the above concepts utilized in that study, see Watts and Strogatz 1998 and Granovetter 1973, respectively. 15. At the time when these chronicles were written, the given Chinese character of Sai would have borne a pronunciation close to *Sak; see Beckwith 2009, 378. 16. E.g., Grousset 1970; Rolle 1980; Szemerényi 1980. 17. Herodotus ch. 4. 18. Jacobson 1995. 19. Järve et al. 2019; Gnecchi-Ruscone et al. 2021. 20. Beckwith (2009, 58–61) refers to them as a unified empire, yet the full corpus of archaeological remains across Eurasia demonstrates that they were staunchly independent, even if highly interactive, pastoral polities. 21. See the concept of “peer polity interaction” in Renfrew and Cherry 1986. For a brief discussion of the dangers of cultural reductionism through attention only to similarities in the “triad” of materials for the case of the Scythian phenomenon, see Taylor 2003. 22. Kyzlasov 1979; Moshkova 1992; Yablonsky 1995; Parzinger 2006; Stöllner and Samashev 2013; Parzinger et al. 2010; Nagler et al. 2010; Nagler 2013; Khudyakov et al. 2013. The most famous of these monuments are the massive kurgan mounds with multiple log chambers of the early first millennium bce at Arzhan in Tuva; Gryaznov 1980. 23. For archaeological examples, see Kodyrbaev 1966; Beisenov et al. 2016; Skydov and Lukpanova 2013; Boroffka 2019; Lukpanova 2019. 24. Di Cosmo 1999b; Honeychurch 2015. 25. Cf. Wright 2006 notion of foundational “political experiments.” 26. In Mongolian, these are generally referred to as “square graves” (dörvöljiin bulsh). Although most literature in English calls them “slab graves,” not all square graves in the Mongolian grasslands during this time period were marked by large above- ground slabs; hence this chapter (and book) adopts the more apt term of “square grave.” Erdenebaatar 1992; 2002; Tsybiktarov 1998; Davydova and Minyaev 2003;
254 Notes Wu’En 2008, 14–17; Honeychurch et al. 2009; Park et al. 2011; Johannesson 2016; Törbat and Erdenebold 2020. 27. Grishin 1975; Novgorodova 1989; Tsybiktarov 1998; Törbat and Erdenebold 2020. 28. The standard size range was approximately 3–6 meters broad, the occasional larger versions measured between 7 and 10 meters, and only a small percentage of square graves contained animal offerings; Törbat and Erdenebold 2020. 29. One example is Asgat: Erdenebaatar 1992 (Figure 2.2[7]); for a discussion of the broadly distributed pattern of scapula offerings in square graves and their possible ritual meanings, see Enkhtör et al. 2018. A well-documented example of horse heads laid on top of the deceased occurs at Mukhdagiin Am in Egiin Gol valley (Figure 2.2[9]); Törbat et al. 2003, 31–32. 30. At Jargalantyn Am (Bayarsaikhan et al. 2020); see also similar graves at Bor Shoroony Am (Figure 2.2[11]; Bayarsaikhan et al. 2018), and in Tamir Valley near the Orkhon River (Enkhtör et al. 2020), all within central Mongolia near the Khangai mountains. For sites of such abnormally large square graves intermixed with subsequent Xiongnu graves, see Iderkhangai et al. 2019 and Dashzeveg et al. 2020. 31. Sanjmyatav 1989[2016]. This particular square grave measured more than 8 meters wide, well within the range of the exceptionally large and rare square graves. The monuments nearby these square graves contained several massive “deer stone” stelae ritual complexes of the era leading into that of the square graves (see Törbat et al. 2011b), all of which are located in Khanuy Valley where the largest royal cemetery of the Xiongnu empire would later be established (Allard et al. 2005; Miller et al. 2006). 32. A recently excavated square grave in Khanui Valley contained four large carved “deer stones” for the burial pit, affirming a pattern of such usage for the valley; Erdenebaatar et al. 2018. An even larger square grave is found at Tsats Tolgoi in the nearby Khoid Tamir Valley; it stood in a large square grave cemetery (n =22) adjacent to a massive “deer stone” ritual complex; Gantulga et al. 2016. 33. Honeychurch et al. 2009; Johannesson 2016; Nakamura 2019. 34. Tsybiktarov 1998; Takahama 2005; Houle 2009; Honeychurch et al. 2009; Bayarsaikhan 2017, 193–196. 35. Honeychurch 2015, 141–149. 36. Hao 1988; Tsybiktarov 1998; Honeychurch et al. 2009; National Museum of Korea 2001; Miyamoto and Obata 2016. 37. Honeychurch et al. 2009. 38. Figure 2.2[8]; Kharinskii 2005; Losey et al. 2017. 39. Figure 2.2[13]; Ma 2015; Buyeo and Institute MAS 2011; Xibei and Gansu 2006. 40. Xibei and Gansu 2006; Li et al. 2010, 252–254. 41. Gansu 1990; Li 2015. 42. Mu Tianzi zhuan 2. While the exact routes and locations mentioned in the fictionalized account of the Zhou King’s journey are unknown, there is a general agreement that the areas described were roughly the regions of the Hexi Corridor and further west into what is now Xinjiang, northern Altai, and the Yenesei River valleys, not to any of the grassland regions of central or eastern Mongolia; see Mathieu 1978. 43. Shiji 123, 3161.
Notes 255 44. Guanzi 73, 78, 80, 81; Mu Tianzi zhuan 1. These Hexi groups first recorded as “Yuzhi” were later referred to as “Yuezhi” and were the early rivals of the Xiongnu. 45. Luan 2001; Gansu 2012. Mazongshan mining site is located in the same area of northwest Gansu as the square grave site of Shande (Figure 2.2[14]). 46. Several square grave sites west beyond the Khangai Mountains demonstrate the far reach of Square Grave networks into the western realms, including two sites in Gobi- Altai, Mongolia (Batbold et al. 2020), and two in northwestern Gansu, China (Xibei and Gansu 2006; Figure 2.2[14]). 47. Recent archaeogenetic studies demonstrate the high degree of interaction among populations in this region; Wang et al. 2021. 48. Shiji 123, 3160 (written as Gushi); Hanshu 96A, 3872 (written as Jushi). See also Zhang et al. 2016. 49. Xinjiang and Tulufan 2004; Xinjiang Tulufan and Xinjiang 2011. 50. Figure 2.2[14]; Tulufan 1985; Xinjiang and Tulufan 2002. 51. Shiji 123, 3160; Hanshu 96A, 3875–3876; 96B, 3911 and 3917–3918; Zhongguo and Xinjiang 1987; 1991. 52. Compare with discussion of networks during later “Silk Road” era Eurasia in Brosseder and Miller 2018. 53. Hanshu 96A, 3884; Yablonsky 1995; Parzinger 2006, 659–662; Guo 2012, 221. 54. Bernshtam 1952; Kibirov 1959; Akishev and Kushaev 1963; Tashbaeva 2011; Akishev 2013; Xinjiang 1998a,b; Xinjiang and Xibei 1998; Xinjiang et al. 1999; Xinjiang and Wulumiqi 1999; 2000; 2003; Xinjiang 2005; Xinjiang and Yili 2005; Xinjiang 2012a, 2012b. 55. The most extravagant of these elites is the so-called Golden Man of Issyk (Akishev 1978); see Figure 2.2[3]. 56. Xinjiang 1981. 57. Xinjiang 2014. 58. Shiji 110, 2893. 59. Murphy et al. 2013; Ventresca Miller and Makarewicz 2019. 60. Vainshtein 1980. 61. Yantielun 2.1.2; Sanguozhi 30, 858. 62. Kyzlasov 1977; Zavitukhina et al. 1979; Grach 1980; Novogrodova 1989; Kiryushin and Tishkin 1997; Bokovenko and Smirnov 1998; Kiryushin et al. 2003; Semenov 2003; Törbat et al. 2011a; Khudyakov et al. 2013. 63. Jordana et al. 2009; Murphy 2003, 94–102; Chikisheva et al. 2015; Daragan 2016. 64. Rolle 1980, Beckwith 2009, and many of the authors in Pankova and Simpson 2019 speak of a vast “Scythian” cultural complex that spanned all of the Eurasian steppes, emphasizing similarities among their prestige art and pastoral lifeways, but significant differences in ritual practices, subsistence economies, local environments, and interpretations of “Scythian” vocabulary of prestige demonstrate a vast world of distinct cultures, societies, and competing polities. Even the later groups of Xiongnu and Wusun are conflated by statements in Chinese records purporting them to have “the same customs” (tong su) Shiji 123, 1361. 65. Tishkin 2019, chapter 3.
256 Notes 66. For Tuva, see Grach 1980; Novgorodova 1989; Mandelshtam and Stambulnik 1992; Semenov 2003. For Minusinsk, see Bokovenko and Smirnov 1998; Bokovenko 2006. 67. Shul’ga 2003; Umanskii et al. 2005; Shul’ga et al. 2009. 68. Kubarev and Shul’ga 2007, 46–56. Genetic evidence at sites in the Upper Yenesei demonstrates the practice of interring close family members within a single chamber tomb (Mary et al. 2019). 69. Kiryushin and Tishkin 1997; Kiryushin et al. 2003; Tishkin and Dashkovskii 2003. 70. Martunov et al. 1985; Kiryushin and Tishkin 1997, 43–62; Tishkin and Gorbunov 2005; Tishkin 2019, 186–201. These early first millennium bce remains are deemed part of the Biike Culture (centered near Biike site; Figure 2.4[11]) that preceded those of the famous Pazyryk era. 71. Gryaznov 1980. 72. Flannery 1972; Falkenhausen 2006. 73. Rudenko 1960; Figure 2.2[1]. 74. Crumley 2001, 26–29. 75. Only one other burial site, Chineta II, at the periphery of the Altai domain, retained remains of Chinese lacquered wares; Dashkovsii 2019. A similar pattern existed for elites of the neighboring Ob region, among whom only those in the largest tombs of the Kamen’ Culture retained lacquered vessels from the Central Plains kingdoms, and bronze mirrors from distant South Asia were equally as rare among Ob elites; Tishkin 2012; Sutyagina and Chugunov 2017; Novikova 2019. 76. Pokutta et al. 2019. 77. Shul’ga 1997; see Figure 2.2[4]. In addition to faunal remains of wild hunted animals found in archaeological contexts of Early Iron Age Altai communities, large game hunting likely also included high-altitude hunting of ibex and argali, as reflected in the centrality of these large horned animals in Sayan-Altai art and by the vestiges of Iron Age hunting in high peaks documented in Taylor et al. 2021. 78. Populations in the greater Sayan-Altai region had already incorporated millet into their diet and economy as far back as the early second millennium bce; Ventresca Miller and Makarewicz 2019. 79. Houle 2015, 49–52. These include smaller Pazyryk Culture sites in the northern stretches of the Mongolian Altai, which were often near alpine lakes. 80. Shul’ga 2015, 52–54. 81. Kubarev and Shul’ga 2007; see surveys of Hendrickx et al. 2011 and regional patterns within the Pazyrk realms proposed in Ochir-Goryaeve 2017. 82. E.g., Pazyryk, Ak-Alakh and Berel’ cemeteries (Figure 2.4[1,2,3]). 83. Konstantinov and Urbushev 2017. 84. Evidence for intercommunity violence also occurred in the Altai during early first millennium bce, before the emergence of “Pazyryk” elites in the mid-late first millennium bce; Kiryushin and Tishkin 1997, 80–86. 85. Rudenko 1960, 219. 86. See O’Shea 1995; DeMarrais et al. 1996; Schortman et al. 2001. 87. E.g., Barburgazy, Kubarev 1992; Figure 2.4[5]. A rare cemetery of completely stone cist graves occurred at Teltekmen’ (Stepanova 1997); see Figure 2.4[6].
Notes 257 88. Kubarev and Shul’ga 2007, 46–53. Stone circles flanking stone mounds are visible at both cemeteries in Figure 2.5. 89. Molodin et al. 2009. 90. Lepetz 2013; Lepetz et al. 2019. 91. Barkova and Pankova 2005. 92. Rudenko 1960; Figure 2.2[1]and Figure 2.4[1]. 93. Rubinson 1990; Wu 2007. 94. Shul’ga 2015, 155–160. Yet the earthen ramparts of Altai campsites were of the same form as those surrounding permanent pit-house settlements of Ob realms to their north and may have been techniques borrowed from those neighboring communities; Abdulganeev 1997. 95. Shul’ga 2015. 96. The proclivity toward items like West Indian bronze mirrors, complete with gazelles, elephants, and ritual performers, set the elites of the Ob herders within a different sphere of interaction more heavily enmeshed with groups further south and west. See Umanskii et al. 2005; Shul’ga et al. 2009; Vassilikov 2010; Ravich and Triester 2015. 97. Borodovsky and Tur 2015. 98. Dashkovskiy and Usova 2011. 99. E.g., Yustyd (Kubarev 1991) and Kharganat (Törbat et al. 2011a; Figure 2.4[7]). 100. E.g., Balyk-Sook (Kubarev and Shul’ga 2007; Figure 2.4[8]). 101. Grach 1980; Figure 2.4[8]. 102. Shul’ga and Shul’ga 2017. These include the sites of Tuva Xincun (Xinjiang 2015, 198– 215), Dongtalede and Kalasu (Xinjiang 2013; Yu and Ma 2013; Yu and Hu 2015; Xinjiang 2015, 126–137; Figure 2.4[12]), Altai city (Xinjiang 2015, 107–118), and numerous burial sites in Fuyun county (Xinjiang and Aletai 2006; Xinjiang 2015, 22–106 and 166–176; Figure 2.4[13]). 103. The cemeteries of Xigou (Xibei et al. 2016) and Tuobeiliang (Xibei et al. 2014a) contained many graves with Pazyryk-style burial customs, such as adjacent whole horse interments, as well as weapons and ornaments, some of which were radiocarbon dated to as late as the second century bce. See also Ma 2014. 104. Xinjiang and Tulufan 2004; Xinjiang et al. 1998. 105. Shiji 110, 2883. 106. Yang 2004; Wu’En 2007. This area—spanning the provinces of Inner Mongolia, Ningxia, Gansu, Shanxi, and Shaanxi—is usually referred to in Chinese archaeological literature as the “Northern Zone.” A range of localized decorative styles and burial customs in these areas expressed recognizable differences amid a series of culturally and ecologically diverse herder societies; see Wu’En 2007. 107. Di Cosmo 1999b. 108. Hebei 1966; Liaoning 1985; Chengde and Luanping 1994; Luanping 1995; Beijing 2007; Shan 2015. 109. Shiji 43, 1811; 61, 2450. 110. Indrisano and Linduff 2013. 111. Tian 1976; Nei Menggu 1984; 1986; 1989; 2012; Yikezhaomeng 1987; Nei Menggu and Baotou 1991; Yikezhaomeng and Yijinhuoluo 1992.
258 Notes 112. Shiji 110, 2883. The third century ce Chinese court historian Wei Zhao remarked in retrospect that “the Yiqu was originally a Western Rong state, had a king, and the Qin [eventually] destroyed it.” Such mentions of nomadic entities peripheral to the Central Plains as constituting “states that have kings” reiterates the understanding that some of them may have formed complex hierarchical polities. 113. Shiji 5,199–206. 114. Shiji 129, 3260. 115. He 1989. 116. Cf. Shelach 2009. 117. E.g., Majiayuan (Figure 2.2[5]). Qingyang and Qingyang 1988; Ningxia 1991; 1995; Ningxia and Ningxia 1993; Yan and Li 1992; Yan 1994; Yang and Qi 1999; Ningxia and Pengyang 2002. 118. Wu 2013; Yang and Linduff 2013. 119. Gansu and Zhangjiachuan 2008; Zaoqi Qin and Zhangjiachuan 2009; 2010; 2012. 120. Luo and Han 1990; Ningxia and Ningxia 1993. The practice of placing disassembled vehicles beside burial chambers occurred also at the royal Altai site of Pazyryk (Rudenko 1960). 121. Yang 2010; Wong 2017. 122. Dai and Sun 1983; Yikezhaomeng 1992; Figure 2.2[4]. 123. Dai and Sun 1983. 124. Shaanxi 2003. 125. Falkenhausen 2006; Shelach and Pines 2006; Linduff 2009; Bunker 2009. 126. Shiji 61, 2450. 127. Numerous sites of Square Graves and other sites similar to those found in Mongolia have been found through the course of archaeological survey along the northern foothills of the Yin Mountains; Ma 2015. 128. Di Cosmo 1999b, 2002, 135. In addition, genetic studies by Lee and Miller et al. 2023 of Xiongnu populations across Mongolia link closely with those of the Square Grave and earlier Bronze Age populations within Mongolia, suggesting origins intermixed more with populations of Mongolia than with those of northern China. 129. Sensu Schiffer 2005. 130. DeMarrais et al. 1996; Schortman et al. 2001. 131. Honeychurch 2015, 131. 132. Sensu Kohl 2008.
Chapter 3 1. Archaeological correlates of so- called howling arrows, made with small bone attachments at the base of iron arrowheads that would sharply whistle upon flight, have been found in several Xiongnu graves and villages; see Brosseder and Miller 2012. 2. Shiji 110, 2887. The epic founding legends surrounding Modun were certainly rife with fiction, and the two greatest tales followed the same narrative structure of tests: a horse, a wife, and then the final one (his father/his land). Yet despite any fantastical accounts that either vilified or lauded his accession of power, most scholars agree that Modun’s ascent relied upon the creation of a personal military force and some manner
Notes 259 of usurpation. See Di Cosmo 2002, 175–176; Beckwith 2009, 72 n. 52; Giele 2010, 258 n. 137; Kradin 2011, 80–81. 3. In their original Old Chinese pronunciation, the characters that render the name of Modun bore a pronunciation closer to the word baatar (*baγtur), a Eurasian appellation meaning “hero,” suggesting a name given to, or taken on by, this leader after his rise to power. The name of his father, Touman or Tumen, is related to the Tokharian word tümen, meaning “ten thousand,” which is equivalent to the highest rank of the famous decimal system of the Xiongnu political hierarchy. In this case, the chanyu ruler named Touman was, in effect, the Magnificant Myriarch. In both cases, the names for these two historical figures were less like given names and more likely title names they took on as rulers of their constituents. See Beckwith 2009, 387. 4. Shiji 110, 2889. This legend about the founding ruler Modun was also certainly filled with embellishments, but the historical events of political conflict with the Eastern Hu kings and their sudden defeat were likely true for the most part. 5. Shiji 110, 2890. 6. Shiji 110, 2887. In addition to all of his father’s other sons and any of the previous “great ministers” (i.e., great chiefs) who did not attest loyalty to the new regime, Modun supposedly slaughtered all his “stepmothers” (i.e., the other wives of his father, besides his mother); see Giele 2010, 258–259. 7. Shiji 60, 2117. Hunyu was reckoned by Chinese historians as alternate name for the Xiongnu (Shiji 110, 2879; Hanshu 85, 3451), though Hu was more often a clear alternate designation (see Di Cosmo 2002; Giele 2011). 8. Shiji 110, 2890. 9. Di Cosmo 1999a, 2002. 10. Di Cosmo 2011, 45. 11. Yantielun 8.3.2 (45). 12. Shiji 110, 2890–2891. Some semblance of this system may have already been in use during the time of Tumen, as he supposedly awarded his son Modun with ten thousand cavalry, an act that may in fact have been a symbolic endowment as a chief of “ten thousand,” such as he, Tumen the Magnificant Myriarch, was; see Shiji 110, 2887. 13. Cyropaedia II.1.22. In this case, lower levels were further partitioned into units of five and fifty. See Di Cosmo 2011, 47. 14. Shiji 110, 2879. 15. Shiji 110, 2900. 16. Hou Hanshu 90, 2979; in reference to the Wuhuan. 17. Hanshu 94B, 3707–3708; Hou Hanshu 89, 2944–2945. The designations of “lineage” and “clan” used here reflect the different Chinese terms of zu and shi, respectively, as they appear in the various historical records; cf. Falkenhausen 2006, 23. 18. Cf. Sneath 2007 and the political impetuses for the creation, rather than timeless character, of Inner Asian tribes. 19. Hanshu 94A, 3751. Both chengli (Turko-Mogolic tengri), “Heaven,” and gutu, “son,” were words transliterated from the Xiongnu language and thus represent ideologies that come from within Inner Asian traditions; see Di Cosmo 2011, 46. 20. Shiji 110, 2889. 21. Shiji 110, 2892.
260 Notes 22. Shiji 110, 2893. 23. Shiji 110, 2890–2891. 24. Shiji 110, 2890. Tuqi and Luli, as well as Danghu and Juqu, are transliterated Xiongnu words for titles, for which only tuqi is explained as the Xiongnu word for “worthy.” Other ranks are given Chinese equivalent names, including “commandant” (duwei) and “chancellor” (xiang) or “chancellor of domain” (xiang-feng or xiang-guo). These ascriptions appear to be Han attempts to give names to non-nobility ranks in the Xiongnu political hierarchy. See also Xie 1969 and Giele 2010, 263. 25. Shiji 110, 2891; Di Cosmo 2002, 177. 26. Shiji 110, 2891. Han accounts refer to the Gudu as “lords” (hou) rather than “kings” (wang) or “generals” (jiang). Scant mentions of other “lords” such as the jiruo (Shiji 111, 2928), imply a host of other noble ranks on par with the Gudu. 27. For a detailed discussion, see Miller 2014. 28. Xie 1969. 29. Shiji 123, 3161. 30. By this time, warfare in the steppe was conducted more with arrows, spears, and sometimes swords, the latter of which are rarely found at Xiongnu archaeological sites. The previously prevalent pick-axes of the Sayan-Altai tradition had disappeared. An osteological paradox (cf. DeWitte and Stojanowski 2015) should be considered for violent death in warfare when arrow-inflicted fatalities are likely the main cause of death; cf. Eng and Zhang 2013. Since the coffins of many Xiongnu graves have been disturbed and the upper bodies missing, it becomes even more difficult to ascertain degrees of violence within Xiongnu society through bioarchaeological studies. Nevertheless, a notable amount of violent deaths from bladed weapons do appear among Xiongnu males, as noted in the study of the Burkhan Tolgoi community, see Mission 2013, 339–342. 31. Hou Hanshu 90. 32. Shiji 110, 2890. 33. These groups are evidenced by grandiose graves of nomadic elites along the frontier. 34. Shiji 110, 2890–2891. 35. Shiji 110, 2893. The exact location of these northern kingdoms is vague, yet the Dingling are noted in later records as residing in the vicinity of the North Sea (i.e., Lake Baikal; see Hanshu 54, 2463; Shanhaijing referenced in Hou Hanshu 70, 2272). 36. Cf. Mann 1986. 37. Di Cosmo 2002, 190. 38. Hou Hanshu 90, 2891. 39. Shiji 110, 2893. 40. Shiji 110, 2891; 123, 3160. 41. Shiji 110, 2896. 42. Hanshu 96B, 3930. 43. Bone scrapers for processing hides are some of the most prevalent artifacts found at Xiongnu pit-house villages (Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Pousaz et al. 2013). For the critical role of salt in the meat industry (namely fish) of ancient East Asia, see Flad 2011. 44. Serruys 1977; Zheng 1991.
Notes 261 45. Shiji 123, 3161. 46. Shiji 110, 2894. 47. Shiji 110, 2895. 48. His version of a marital peace, a heqin, was derived from treaties that had previously been made between Central Plains kingdoms before the Qin dynasty; Di Cosmo 2002, 195; Psarras 2003, 132. 49. Shiji 99, 2179; Shiji zhuyi 99, 2144. 50. Shiji 110, 2895; Hanshu 94A, 3745. 51. Hanshu 94A, 3754. 52. Hanshu 94A, 3755. 53. Hanshu 3, 99. 54. Shiji 110, 2895. 55. Atwood 2015a. Through substantial textual evidence (41–47), Atwood concurs with de Groot (1921) that the Chinese transliterated name of Xiongnu, best reconstructed as Khongai, was taken from the name of a river valley in the southern Mongolian steppe in which they had settled. This supposed Xiongnu River valley is attributed to the Ongi River along the southern edge of the Khangai Mountains. This notion of a Khangai region origin, generally speaking, accords with some of the earliest indications of large square graves with burial pits and livestock offerings practices that resemble later Xiongnu practices; for these pre-Xiongnu burial types that differ slightly from square graves, see Bayarsaikhan et al. 2018 and 2020. See also Giele 2011 and Goldin 2011 equivalent discussions of Xiongnu as dynastonym. 56. Shiji 110, 2895; Hanshu 94A, 3756. 57. Shiji 110, 2896; Hanshu 94A, 3756–3757. 58. Shiji 110, 2897. These were the specific garments in which the Han emperor was dressed. Ample notes explain the xipi (xupi or shibi) as the name of an auspicious beast that the Eastern Hu used to decorate their ornaments. It was thus also the name of the belt clasps decorated with such beasts. For overview of textual mentions of belt clasps, see Kost 2014, 88–91. 59. Shiji 110, 2902. 60. Shiji 110, 2904. 61. Yantielun 8.4.1 (46). 62. Xiongnu raids of the Chinese frontier almost exclusively pilfered livestock and people, never grain (Hayashi 1990). 63. Ullah et al. 2015. 64. Cf. Fijn 2011 and the symbiotic structuring of human–animal co-domestication. 65. Shiji 129, 3254; Hanshu 49, 2285; Yantielun 7.2.2 (38). 66. Shiji 110, 2879; Hanshu 94A, 3743. Yaks are also a significant component of many herds in Mongolia, yet Chinese texts give no specific mentions of these animals for the Xiongnu era. 67. Stable isotopic studies of human remains from Xiongnu sites across Mongolia demonstrate a consistently heavy consumption of terrestrial animals (Wilkin et al. 2020a). Charred and butchered remains of animal bones from campsites evidence the consumption of sheep and goat as well as cattle and horses far more than wild fauna (Houle and Broderick 2011, 144–148).
262 Notes 68. Proteomic analyses of dental calculus from numerous Xiongnu individuals demonstrates a wide array of dairy products consumed; Wilkin et al. 2020b. 69. Hanshu 87, 3561. Pots with holes in the bottom are also suggested to be for cheese making (Pousaz et al. 2013). 70. Shiji 110, 2889; see also Hanshu 49, 2284–2285; Yantielun 6.1.23 (29). Dental calculus of Xiongnu persons unearthed in several different areas of Mongolia provide further evidence for the consumption of horse dairy products (Wilkin et al. 2020b). 71. The most ample findings occur at pit-house villages (Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Pousaz et al. 2013). 72. Moulherat 2013. 73. Cf. Salzman 1972; 2004. 74. In addition to the presence of fish hooks and harpoons as well as the scales and bones of different fish at Xiongnu sites in the northern Mongolian steppe (e.g., Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Pousaz et al. 2013; Khenzykhenova et al. 2020), isotopic analyses of human remains also demonstrate a mixed subsistence that included fish as well as domestic grains and terrestrial animals among many Xiongnu communities (Hrivnyak and Eng 2020; Kradin et al. 2021). 75. Remains of habitation sites show wild species to be an extremely small portion of the animals consumed (Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Houle and Broderick 2011; Lepetz and Decanter 2013; Khenzykhenova et al. 2020). 76. Bone tools made from sheep/goat scapula are among the most common found at Xiongnu settlements, which are postulated as either for forming vessels for pottery production (Tüvshin 2018) or for scaping hides for leather production (Ramseyer and Volken 2011). 77. Hanshu 94B, 3810. 78. Shiji 110, 2880. 79. Hanshu 8, 65. Juyan Hanjian 8.2; 10.37; 10.19; 14.8; 239.39; 336.34; 349.7; 562.18; 457.13. 80. Murphy 2015. 81. Shiji 110, 2892. 82. The use of millet for foddering livestock in primarily pastoral societies existed long before the Xiongnu era in pockets of Kazakhstan during the Bronze Age; see Hermes et al. 2019. 83. Isotopic studies of livestock remains from the Xiongnu era evidence the use of winter pasturing and foddering strategies; Makarewicz 2017. 84. Shiji 110, 2879; Hanshu 94A, 3743. 85. Hanshu 87, 3561. See also depictions on birch-bark containers (Törbat et al. 2003; Minyaev and Sakharovskaya 2007b). 86. Shiji 110, 2900; Yantielun 9.4.1 (52). 87. Yantielun 7.2.2 (38). 88. Wright et al. 2009; Houle and Broderick 2011; cf. Simukov 1934b. 89. See Di Cosmo 1994 for one of the early collective arguments for this. 90. Hanshu 94A, 3781. Medieval commentators remarked that steppe peoples like the Xiongnu grew broomcorn millet (ji) that was more suited to the early onset of winter; it is well adapted to cold dry environments, has shorter growing seasons that can
Notes 263 accommodate seasonal habitation shifts of herder households, and thus would have been the most suitable crop for the northern steppe communities. For discussion of millet in the steppe, see Spengler 2015, 233. 91. A few locales such as Egiin Gol Valley demonstrate consumption of wheat and barley, which are C3 plants, in charred seeds found at ephemeral campsites (Wright et al. 2009). Stable isotopic studies of human remains across Inner Asia, however, have shown that C4 plants—most likely millet—were a significant component of the diet of people in the Xiongnu realms, as well as in many adjacent areas; Murphy et al. 2013; Ventresca Miller and Makarewicz 2019; Hrivnyak and Eng 2020; Wilkin et al. 2020a; Kradin et al. 2021. 92. Amartüvshin 2018. 93. Obata and Ishtseren 2019. The studied samples include sites within the areas of northern and central Mongolia that would have been most suitable to agriculture. 94. Remains of millet, wheat, and barley, along with iron plowshares and hoes, have been found at several pit-house settlements within the greater areas of the Selenge River (Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Pousaz et al. 2013). Iron plowshares were found as well in a cache along a riverbank (Bayar 1986). The use of iron tools and the establishment of permanent villages may have enabled some Xiongnu communities to successfully engage with the more labor-intensive crops of wheat and barley. 95. Davydova 1995, 51–53. 96. E.g., Brosseder et al. 2023; Kiyama et al. 2019; Ishtseren et al. 2019. 97. See Brosseder et al. 2023 for summary of these and other Xiongnu iron smelting sites. 98. Sasada and Amartuvshin 2014; Ishtseren et al. 2015; Amartüvshin and Murakami 2018; Usuki 2019; Usuki et al. 2018; 2019; Amartüvshin et al. 2019; Sasada et al. 2019. 99. Much iron slag was found among the remains of campsites in the central Mongolian valley of Khanui (Houle and Broderick 2011, 150–151). 100. See Park et al. 2010 for metallurgic analyses of such iron artifacts. 101. No bronze foundries or other facilities have yet been discovered, but the metallurgic makeup of bronze slag and finished artifacts indicates conventions of Inner Asian rather than Chinese bronze production (Park et al. 2011). 102. Giele 2011. 103. Cf. Park et al. 2016, 485. Several Chinese bronze crossbow bolt pieces have also been found in Xiongnu graves and settlements. 104. Shiji 110, 2879. 105. Yantielun 2.1.2 (7). 106. Kharinskii 2005; Losey et al. 2017. The northern village of Ivolga had numerous iron fish hooks and even a long bone harpoon (Davydova 1995). In addition to this area having been even more forested in antiquity than it is today, the communities of these northern reaches garnered a wide array of fish, including sturgeon and pike, and fur- bearing animals, from squirrels and pika to foxes, ferrets, and bears; Khenzykhenova et al. 2020. 107. These were the tribes that came to be known as the Xianbei. Hou Hanshu 90, 2985. 108. Yantielun 1.2.4 (2); 3; Hanshu 91, 3687.
264 Notes 109. Shiji 110, 2899; 2901–2903. Even Chinese defectors to the Xiongnu would remind Han envoys of the necessity of sending regular quantities of tribute. Zhonghang Yue insisted on silk cloth and silk batting as well as rice and fermented grains. 110. Shiji 110, 2899. 111. See distribution of turquoise in northern China in Qin 2016. 112. Yantielun 8.4.2 (46).
Chapter 4 1. Shiji 110, 2879; Hanshu 94A, 3743. 2. Lu Jia, advisor to emperor Gaozu, supposedly remarked “Residing on a horse [you] obtained [the realm], yet can [you] govern it on a horse?”; Shiji 97, 2699. 3. Sensu Massey 1999; see also discussion in Honeychurch 2015, 212–215. 4. Shiji 110, 2900; Hanshu 94A, 3760; see Di Cosmo 2002, 275–278. 5. Honeychurch 2014. 6. Shiji 110, 2888. The critical difference here is in the reflexive statement: “zi (self) li (establish) wei (as) chanyu (The Magnificent).” 7. Shiji 110, 2907. 8. Shiji 110, 2914–2916. 9. Shiji 110, 2891. 10. These recorded divisions reflect only partitions of territory along the frontier with the Han empire, and thus Chinese chroniclers attend less to apportions of the Left and Right regions stretching further north. 11. Shiji 110, 2879; Hanshu 94A, 3743. 12. Cf. “the politics of grass,” as outlined in Hämäläinen 2010. 13. Murphy 2014. 14. Contracts (geree) for herd-sharing and authorizations for migrations out of customary circuits (otor) are among the fundamental institutions of mobile pastoral economies that enable greater productivity and risk management (see Murphy 2015). 15. Hanshu 87A, 3552. 16. Shiji 110, 2879. 17. Shiji 110, 2892. 18. Shiji 110, 2892. 19. Shiji 110, 2892. 20. Shiji 110, 2879. 21. Most contracts even among modern day herders in Mongolia are oral agreements (aman geree); see Murphy 2015. 22. Hou Hanshu 90, 2979. These were practices recorded for the Wuhuan, though such a technique of record keeping was likely used throughout the Inner Asian steppe during the time of the Xiongnu. 23. Dorjsüren 1961; Batbold 2016; Törbat et al. 2012. See Figure 1.1. 24. Erdenebaatar et al. 2002; Davatseren 2006. 25. Shiji 110, 2900. 26. Although marks on the bottoms of vessels could relate to maker marks, the markings on Xiongnu vessels are different from maker marks found on ceramic roof tiles in the
Notes 265 steppe (Danilov and Tsydenova 2011) and more closely resemble signs that are part of tamgas etched on rock outcrops and scratched onto the bottoms of imported Han wares; see discussion in Chapter 6 and Davaatseren 2006, Törbat et al. 2012, Gantulga et al. 2015. 27. Hanshu 94B, 3826. This “lord” (hou) position was remarked as being relatively “low” among the royal ranks, but it was still an official office appointed by the chanyu himself. 28. Shiji 110, 2899; Hanshu 94A, 3759. 29. One stone plate, approximately 20 centimeters long, was found amid excavations at Ivolga village that bore markings some scholars say resemble Chinese characters. Yet the three marks (one on each of the three sides of the stone piece) cannot be deciphered into any known characters, thus leaving us with markings that are either inaccurate renditions of Chinese characters by a nonliterate person, or markings from a entirely different system. See Davydova 1995, fig.15. 30. Davydova and Minyaev 2003, figs. 46.15 and 17. 31. Batsaikhan 2002, 226. These were found in graves 26 and 28 at the large cemetery of Burkhan Tolgoi (see Törbat et al. 2003). Analyses of the black material were conducted in France (Erdenebaatar et al. 1999, 65). 32. Shiji 110, 2892. 33. Shiji 110, 2889. 34. Hanshu 94A, 3781. 35. Shiji 110, 2908. Jinglu was seemingly a primary god, as it was also the name for a ritual knife used by the Xiongnu. Three places for sacrificial offerings to Jinglu were even set up in the mountain edges of the Han capital area, along with metal statues; see Hanshu 25B, 1250 and 28A, 1545. The northern mountainous periphery of the Han capital region also came to host numerous sacral sites of the Xiongnu, including fifteen offering places for Hu shamans to perform blessings; see Hanshu 28B, 1615. 36. Shiji 110, 2892; Hanshu 94A 3752. 37. See discussion of animal offerings at Xiongnu cemeteries in Miller et al. 2018: “Stone lines and burnt bones.” 38. Such feasts were extraordinary occasions of food and drink consumption that were of greater social significance—and often on a greater scale and featuring more extravagant accoutrements—than normal meals; cf. Hayden 2009. 39. Hanshu 94B, 3801. The cup in this ceremonial Blood Oath with the Chanyu was a royal heirloom, and the knife bore the name of the deity Jinglu. 40. E.g., Shiji 110, 2889, which mentions the “delightful and beneficial” nature of horse milk liquor. 41. Proteomic analyses demonstrates that, by the Xiongnu era, local elite persons in different regions of the empire consumed horse milk, even in areas where horse herding would not have been a major endeavor; Wilkin et al. 2020b. 42. Shiji 110, 2913. 43. Hanshu 54, 2458. 44. Cf. Standen 2006.
266 Notes 45. Hanshu 94B, 3834. As this couplet is mentioned as well by Confucius in his diatribe against “barbarian” ways, these customs were probably long- standing traditions among the northern steppe peoples. 46. Hanshu 64B, 2817. 47. Hanshu 95, 3863. 48. Preserved hair braids have been found in tombs of the Xiongnu rulers (e.g., Polos’mak and Bogdanov 2016) as well as of elites in the periphery (Nei Menggu 1961, 675). 49. Shiji 110, 2896. 50. For a summary of early Xiongnu belt plates, see Brosseder 2011. 51. “Shell belts” (bei dai) and “[shell] ornamented belts” (ju dai) are mentioned in Zhanguoce 6.2.5, 4 and Huainanzi 9, 27, respectively. See also textual mentions and archaeological findings of cowries and cowry belts from pre-Xiongnu contexts in Chapter 2. 52. Shiji 110, 2897; Hanshu 94A, 3758. Several transliterations are given in different texts for this foreign-named item—shibi, xunbi, xupi, or xibi. It is described as made of “yellow metal” (huangjin, i.e., gold), as were many of the gilded belt pieces found in graves of Inner Asian nomads in the centuries preceding the Xiongnu empire. 53. Shiji 110, 2897; Hanshu 94A, 3758. In this passage, the shibi is called xibi. Some gold and silver belt ornaments from ca. third century bce, such as those at Xigoupan, bear Chinese characters and consist of Chinese ore sources that demonstrate these steppe- style ornaments were produced by artisans of the Central Plains kingdoms for gifting to Hu elites (Yikezhaomeng and Nei Menggu 1980; Wang et al. 2015). 54. Brosseder 2007a; Linduff 2008. Bridal dowries of cattle, horses, and sheep were customary among Inner Asian pastoralists of the Xiongnu era (Hou Hanshu 90, 2979), and retaining brides within an immediate family were equally as important (Shiji 110, 2879; see discussion above). 55. Minyaev 1983; Linduff and Rubinson 2010. 56. Khavrin 2011; Park et al. 2011; Park et al. 2015. 57. Only one dual-cattle belt plate was found outside the far northern regions, at Xichagou site beyond the Xing’an Mountains (Sun 1960). 58. For the development of material components of early Xiongnu political culture, see Miller and Brosseder 2017. 59. Honeychurch and Amartuvshin 2006. 60. The stone lined grave (no. 2) at Ukhaa-Khudag in the southern Gobi is among the earliest burials that might correspond to constituents of the Xiongnu regime. In addition to a belt with iron rings and bone-carved imitation cowrie shells, the individual was interred with a bone-strengthened composite bow and two kinds of bone arrowheads (Amartüvshin et al. 2008). The radiocarbon date of 395–262 bce, obtained from a human rather than animal bone, may reflect an early offset of a century or so but nevertheless represents a date from the very beginning of the Xiongnu era (Brosseder and Yerööl-Erdene 2011). 61. See, e.g., Zaraa-tolgoi (Konovalov and Tsibyktarov 1988), Solbi-uul (Tseveendorj 1987) and Chandman’-Khar-uul (Amartüvshin et al. 2015a). 62. Wright 2011, 168. Over the course of ca. second century bce, a significant shift occurred in ceramic technologies and forms in the Mongolian steppe, such that coarse
Notes 267 red and brown wares of round-bodied, close-mouthed, and restricted-shoulder vessels decreased while gray wares more typically associated with settlements and cemeteries of the Xiongnu increased. 63. Shiji 110, 2892. The Shiji lists it as thousands or hundreds, while the corresponding passage in the Hanshu (94A, 3752) writes tens or hundreds, a more reasonable figure. Yet this is still likely a literary phrase employed merely to connote a large number of people who could have been sacrificed. 64. Eregzen et al. 2017; 2018 (Figure 4.6[1]). Radiocarbon dates place the large tomb at Chikhertiin Zoo firmly in the second century bce, i.e., the early Xiongnu era (Eregzen 2020, 142). 65. See Pazyryk tombs of the Altai rulers described in Chapter 2, esp. Figure 2.6. 66. Amartüvshin and Honeychurch 2010, 202–275 (Figure 4.6[2]). One grave from the small burial ground of Baga Mongol (estimated two Xiongnu graves), which dates to the early-mid Xiongnu era (120 bce–60 ce), is a very simple stone cist interment. The larger cemetery with many graves dating to the early Xiongnu era, Alag Tolgoi (estimated twelve Xiongnu graves, radiocarbon dates ranging mostly from the second to first centuries bce), contains graves with stone and wood furnishings as well as an array of stone ornaments, cowrie shells, and bronze hangings for belt decorations. 67. Wright et al. 2009; Houle and Broderick 2011. 68. Wright et al. 2009; Honeychurch 2015, 265–267; Gardner and Burentogtokh 2018. 69. Pousaz et al. 2013 (Figure 4.6[D]). 70. Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015a; Figure 4.6[C]. 71. Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015b; Ochir et al. 2020; Figure 4.6[B]. Recent intensive excavations of the earthen structures have yielded numerous wooden remains that have been radiocarbon dated to approximately 170 bce–10 ce, a Chinese bronze zhaoming-mirror fragment that provides a terminus post quem date of late Western Han era (ca. first century bce), and remains of human and animal offerings. 72. One other comparable site with four large walled enclosures lies within 15 kilometers of Zaan-khoshuu (Figure 4.6[C]), on the other side of a large hill, and likely relates to yet another ritual center used by the Xiongnu elites, possibly even the Great Chiefs. Although no excavations have been conducted, thus yielding no remains to confirm a dating to the Xiongnu era, the form, size, and collective layout of the enclosures with a handful of inner mounds matches that of Talyn Gurvan Kherem. In this case, the site has two larger (400+meters) and two smaller (250+meters) enclosures. 73. It is impossible to say whether or not these small burials were those of sacrificial victims, but their presence as part of the platform foundations implies an arena related to ceremonies and spirits more than of habitation. The mirror in the first grave pit indicates an interment of the Xiongnu era, and the positioning of both grave pits in relation to the rammed earth structure suggest pits of the same time period as the mound construction; Ochir et al. 2020. These burial pits contrast with a third burial that was clearly a later intrusion, penetrating into the center of the mounded platform and interring an elite individual of the much later Rouran era (radiocarbon dated to ca. 610–645 ce); see Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015b. 74. Ochir et al. 2020.
268 Notes 75. Several historians have equated the name of Long to the Ongi River, and thereby the dynasty name of Xiongnu or Khongai; hence, the “city” of Long or Ongi was the central court of the Xiongnu dynasty. While some scholars have strived to find the exact location of Long-cheng, others have argued that the court of the chanyu did not always sit at one spot. See de Groot 1921; Atwood 2015a. 76. Shiji 110, 2892; Hanshu 94A, 3752. 77. Törbat and Giscard 2015. 78. Iderkhangai 2012. The cemeteries of Solbi Uul and Khudgiin Tolgoi (Figure 4.6[3]), have 198 and 360 graves respectively. More than half of the cemeteries in the Tamir valley have more than two dozen graves. 79. Iderkhangai et al. 2020; Figure 4.6[A]. 80. The second and third line of phrases were common among eave tiles of Han imperial architecture (see Shen 2006; Xie 2009). But the last phrase had been altered from the standard Han “thousands of autumns and tens of thousands of years” (qianqiu wansui) to a shorter “thousands upon tens of thousands of years” (qianwansui) for the eaves at this Xiongnu imperial complex. 81. Iderkhangai and Batjargal 2020; A large Xiongnu cemetery with more than 150 graves at Borzon, 5 kilometers away across the Orkhon River, further attests to the significance of this locale. 82. Cf. Atwood 2015b. 83. contra Deleuze and Guattari 1986, 5. See Chapter 1 for a critique of “nomadology” and its assumptions of nomadic landscapes. 84. Archaeological investigations, with corresponding ethnographic comparisons, in well-watered valleys of north-central Mongolia demonstrate a pattern of households that would shift the particular placement of their homes according to the season, between river banks and hills, yet remain within a single valley; see Wright et al. 2009 and Houle and Broderick 2011. 85. The pit-house settlement is fully reported in Davydova 1995, and the cemetery is fully reported in Davydova 1996. Many scholars have explained such farming communities as only possible through the conscription of Chinese captives to build walls and till fields for the otherwise incapable nomads, yet none of the ceramic wares or even the forms of iron plowshares resembles items of people from the Central Plains. So while a handful of iron scale armor pieces and bronze crossbow bolt-heads at Ivolga may point to the influx of spoils from conflicts with Chinese forces, the members of this northern community were primarily steppe people who managed farming themselves. Hayashi (1984) argues that Ivolga residents were primarily northerners who had previously been adversaries of the Xiongnu yet were quickly conquered and incorporated. This area had been occupied by people of the Square Grave culture, who were primarily pastoralists, yet the influx of peoples (slaves or artisans) and technologies (rampart building and field tilling) not only from Chinese lands to the south but also Sayan-Altai lands to the northwest would have provided ample models for intensive farming settlements used to establish agricultural villages within the core of the pastoral empire; see Di Cosmo 1994. 86. The significant rise in grain as a staple food during the late first millennium bce and concurrent appearance of farming villages in Mongolia are clearly linked to
Notes 269 the fostering of agriculture by the Xiongnu regime in order to diversify and hence strengthen the political economy of the steppe empire; see Ventresca Miller and Makarewicz 2019, Wilkin et al. 2020a. 87. Klement’ev et al. 2020. Of these recently excavated houses and pits, wild animals constituted a small portion of the faunal remains, with roe deer and hares as the majority and marmots, foxes, and bears being far more rare. Although many remains of “pigs” have been discovered at Ivolga and other Xiongnu pit-house settlements, scholars have not yet been able to say for certainty if they are the bones of domestic hogs or wild boars; residents may have even consumed both, but for now it is difficult to say for certain. 88. Miyagashev 2022. 89. Khenzykhenova et al. 2020; Kradin et al. 2021. Iron plow shares at Ivolga and other Xiongnu villages are of significantly different form from the iron plow blades produced and used in Han China, further demonstrating that the inhabitants of Ivolga were not merely Chinese immigrants. 90. A study of ceramics from sites in southern Baikal area (including Ivolga and Derestui) compared with ceramics from the northern Altai shows that most pottery used by these communities was locally produced or traded within their respective regions. Although some vessels did travel between the two distant regions, demonstrating links between disparate communities of the imperial frontiers, such traffic of wares was infrequent; see Hall and Minyaev 2002. 91. In addition to the original excavations at Ivolga (Davydova 1995), recent survey and excavation work at the site has further demonstrated the dense arrangement of houses, pits, and trenches within the village walls (Kradin et al. 2016). The iron- working facility at Ivolga greatly resembles another such workshop at the site of Kurma on the western shores of Lake Baikal. Kurma also dates to the Xiongnu era though seemingly not of a community that was incorporated into the steppe empire; see Snipkov and Kharinskii 2012. 92. These included the pit-house sites of Enkhor, Dureny, Sharagol, and Mangirtui; see Konovalov 1976; 1980; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Danilov 2005; Konovalov et al. 2016. In addition to the original excavations at Ivolga (Davydova 1995), recent survey and excavation work at the site has further demonstrated the dense arrangement of houses, pits, and trenches within the village walls (Kradin et al. 2016). 93. Kradin et al. 2022. Some pit-houses show evidence of abandonment in favor of new houses, while some exhibit evidence of intense burning, perhaps from the final stage of abandonment of the settlement. 94. House no. 28 in Figure 4.8; Davydova 1995, 16 and figs. 51–54. 95. House no. 9 in Figure 4.8; Davydova 1995, 16–17 and figs. 24–26. 96. Open-work bronze belt clasps were rare at Ivolga, found only in one looted (Grave 139) and one unlooted (Grave 100) burial at Ivolga cemetery (Davydova 1996); and whereas more than twenty-two rectangular-clasp and thirty-eight disc-ring pieces made of stone or bone were found within the settlement, only two bronze open-work belt clasps were found (Davydova 1995). 97. Some local elites further north in the areas near Lake Baikal, like those at Tsagan- khushu or Belousovo (Figure 4.6[23,24]; Figure 4.9[5]), occasionally possessed such
270 Notes Xiongnu-style bronze belt plates, but whole Xiongnu-style belt sets were virtually absent. See Kharinskii 2014. 98. These kinds of early gender and social distinctions for children in Xiongnu society are confirmed by genetic and bioarchaeological studies of the Late Xiongnu cemetery at Shombuuzyn Belchir; see Lee and Miller et al. 2023. 99. Davydova 1995. The cases of livestock offerings comprised only about 15 percent of the burials at Ivolga, and were by and large associated with interments in wood coffins. Roughly 10 percent of the burials had remains of well-ornamented belts. 100. See Miller 2014. 101. Kradin et al. 2004 conducted a comprehensive statistical analysis of the large corpus of Xiongnu archaeological remains in Transbaikal region and demonstrated numerous degrees of social differentiation within sites and a multigrade hierarchy between them. For a more refined examination here, I consider only those sites that definitively lie within the scopes of the Early Xiongnu era (i.e., second–first century bce) and are hence contemporaneous, namely Ivolga and Derestui. The other Late Xiongnu remains of Transbaikal are discussed separately in Chapter 6. 102. These included the pit-house sites of Enkhor, Dureny, Sharagol, and Mangirtui; see Konovalov 1976; 1980; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Danilov 2005; Konovalov et al. 2016. 103. If the southern reaches of Baikal were indeed a frontier of the Xiongnu Empire, then it begs the question of whether or not communities such as Ivolga were formed by incorporating locals or bringing in outsiders (see Kradin et al. 2004; Miyagashev and Bazarov 2020). However, as we must be cautious of equating the movements of objects to the movements of whole peoples, only genetics can truly answer this question. In this light, whole-genome studies of the early Xiongnu cemetery at Salkhityn Am (Figure 4.6[4]), also in the northern reaches of the Xiongnu realms, exhibit a mixture of local populations with non-local populations from as far as the Altai or further west at the burial ground of local elites (Jeong et al. 2020). 104. Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Miyagashev and Bazarov 2020. In addition to evidence for ephemeral habitations (e.g., Wright et al. 2009), pit-house settlements have been documented in other verdant regions of northern and central Mongolia, all beside or within reach of major rivers (Pousaz et al. 2013; Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015a). 105. Derestui: Minyaev 1998; Bayan-Under: Danilov and Zhavoronkova 1995, Danilov 1998, Danilov 2005. 106. Danilov 2005. Several small fragments of Chinese bronze mirrors and one large fragment of an undecorated steppe-style bronze mirror were also found in the refuse pits and pit-houses at Ivolga, but the mirror at Bayan-Under included most pieces of the original whole and appears to have been purposefully placed in the house wall with the knife. 107. Fifteen percent at Derestui and 10 percent at Ivolga. In both cases, most sacrificed animals were sheep with a few instances of cattle. 108. Twenty of 130 graves contained belts with intricate bronze belt pieces, although eight of them were large wood chamber graves that had been completely robbed of their bodies and all that would have adorned them. The largest graves at Derestui, those with wood plank coffins nested within wooden chambers, were badly looted and
Notes 271 leave no indication of the trappings worn by the utmost elites of that community. However, their structures were of greater investment than any graves at Ivolga and most likely contained even more sumptuous burial offerings than the standard wood coffin burials. 109. Out of more than a hundred burials, eight graves at Derestui contained horse remains and seventeen had bridles. Approximately 12 percent of the faunal remains at Ivolga settlement were horse, yet no horses or horse riding equipment was placed in their burials. The disparity between Ivolga and Derestui cemeteries thus relates less to a difference in ecological capacity for horse rearing or a lack of horse herding and consumption at Ivolga village and more to a difference in wealth or social capacity to sacrifice horses from herds for the interment of local elites. 110. One elite enclave in the western Mongolian grasslands attributed to the so-called Great Lakes, at the site of Zamyn-Ötög, exhibits elites with an array of stone belt rings, imitation cowries, Han wuzhu coins, and beads made of carnelian, colored glass, gilded glass, and turquoise all similar to those found at Ivolga and Derestui. Radiocarbon dates spanning 118 bce to 52 ce place a number of these elites within the Early Xiongnu era, though other graves at the same site dating to the Late Xiongnu era demonstrate the maintenance of this elite enclave through the duration of the steppe empire; Bayarsaikhan et al. 2020b; Figure 4.6[18]. 111. The subsequent discussion addresses regional elite constituents, mostly in terms of burial sites with analogous sets of bronze belt ornaments. Elites of the core steppe lands are represented here primarily by the Upper Selenge cemetery at Salkhityn- Am (Figure 4.6[4]) and are compared to the northern community of Derestui cemetery in the Lower Selenge area (Figure 4.6[7]), the Upper Yellow River area of the southern frontier by Daodunzi cemetery (Figure 4.6[8]), and the Upper Yenesei in the northwest by Ala-Tei and Terezin cemeteries (Figure 4.6[17]). 112. See archaeological studies of women in these two regions by Brosseder 2007a and Linduff 2008; see also the comparative discussion of the roles of women in frontier expansion into the southern Altai in Lee and Miller et al. 2023. 113. Ningxia 1978; Ningxia et al. 1987; 1988 (Figure 4.6[8]). 114. Small bronze bell ornaments, and not bit and bridle pieces, were the only trappings for horses found in these graves. 115. Cf. Shaanxi 2003. 116. Distinctions between offering places—such as spots within a burial next to the deceased and offerings placed in upper places of a burial pit such as higher ledges separate from the deceased— often reflect different ritual functions and social significances of those offerings. For example, see Flad 2002. 117. Linduff 2008. 118. E.g., Li 1956; Pang 1998 (Figure 4.6[10,12]). Chinese histories record the pastures just south of the Yin Mountains as being the first seat of the chanyu “court” (Shiji 110, 2891), in the same region that had been occupied by powerful nomadic groups in the centuries before the empires and taken over by the Zhao kingdom (Figure 4.6[10]). These territorial partitions of Left, Right, and Royal Court, however, were only those recorded in the Chinese histories in relation to the regions that bordered the Han
272 Notes Empire. The chanyu itinerant rulers, who sought to control the vast steppe realms, surely had more than one location for their royal “court” to camp. 119. Tian and Guo 1980b; Yikezhaomeng and Nei Menggu 1980 (Figure 4.6[9]). Grave 2 at Xigoupan, although attributed to the third century bce according to the Qin style script on the gold and silver items, also contains iron bridle gear, an iron ladle, and a bronze socketed arrowhead that all indicate Xiongnu style materials of second century bce at the earliest. Even if some items were produced during the end of the Qin or Zhao kingdoms to bestow on Hu kings in the Ordos, they may have been taken as booty by the early Xiongnu rulers. See also Psarras 1996. Some were marked on the back sides with Chinese characters detailing their subject matter and exact weight in precious metal. The characterization of the script as “Qin style” as well as the metal alloys and ore sources all point to production by Chinese artisans. Tian and Guo 1980b; Wang et al. 2015. 120. Such multiperson log chamber tombs were indicative of the Upper Yenesei elites in modern-day Tuva, Bayan-Ölgii, and Uvs provinces. Some of these burial grounds may have continued to the end of the first millennium bce, but the contents of their graves, such as bone rather than bronze belt pieces, indicate significantly diminished peoples associated with previous elite factions; see Kilunovskaya and Leus 2017; 2018; 2020. 121. The small walled encampment at Katylyg along the Upper Yenesei (80 meters wide) contains evidence of hunters and herders (mostly sheep/goat, some horse, few deer) who wielded composite bows and arrows with whistlers and who smelted iron, but who did not reside in pit-houses. This fortified site dates to the Xiongnu era and may have been a hub of the empire. However, local styles of cook pots and storage jars indicate a persistence of local populations despite the region being incorporated into the empire. See Kilunovskaya et al. 2015. 122. Leus 2011; Kilunovskaya and Leus 2017; 2020 (Figure 4.6[17]). The burial practices and pottery are so different from those in Mongolia that local archaeologists purport a distinct local culture called Uglug-Khem. 123. Kilunovskaya and Leus 2019 argue that the H-shaped mark denotes a specific elite clan local to the Upper Yenesei. 124. Cf. Standen 2005, regarding “what nomads want” in the course of non-territorial expansions of power. 125. Hanshu 62, 2729. Accumulation of manageable surplus, whether food for people or feed for animals, is crucial to pastoral strategies of risk management; for Mongolia see Baival and Fernández-Giménez et al. 2012 and Murphy 2012. 126. Nei Menggu 1961; 1994; Ding 2008 (Figure 4.6[14]). 127. Pan 1962; Nei Menggu 1965 (Figure 4.6[15]). 128. Pan and Lin 2002; Li 2013; Sanjiazi: Heilongjiang and Qiqihe’er 1988 (Figure 4.6[16]). 129. Heilongjiang and Qiqihe’er 1988, 1096. Among Xiongnu belt pieces in the Songnen Plains were also Chinese artifacts like the bronze seal of a Han elite. The small bronze seal bears the characters kong huan, indicative not of a Han official but rather of an unknown private individual. 130. Sun 1960. As many as five hundred graves existed, though only sixty-three were formally excavated. Bronze belt ornaments included rectangular and rounded
Notes 273 plates with camels, horses, deer, panthers, falcons, horned beasts, nomadic scenes, geometric patterns, and even a flat plate with angular-style horned beast made by Chinese artisans in the fashion of those at Daodunzi and Xigoupan. 131. Hou Hanshu 90, 2891. Xichagou site lay at the crux of Xiongnu, Wuhuan, and Fuyu groups and has been attributed most likely to elites of the Wuhuan (Pan 2013). Regardless of its culture-historical attribution or cultural identity, it was a community whose elites were deeply enveloped in the Xiongnu political sphere, even if socially detached from it. 132. Hanshu 94A, 3756. 133. The seeming vacillations of trading and raiding by Xiongnu forces mentioned in historical records and frontier may be explained through similar instances in other historical cases in which groups engaged in trade at certain border markets posts while simultaneously raiding at other frontier posts; cf. Hämäläinen 2008 for Comanche trading and raiding strategies Spanish imperial colonies. 134. Di Cosmo 2002, 217. Nomads of the steppe are often jointly dubbed “traders and raiders” (e.g., So and Bunker 1995). 135. Shiji 129, 3280–3281. 136. Yü 1967. 137. Shiji 110, 2896; 123, 3157. 138. E.g., the bronze open-work belt plate with two horses as well as the rectangular gilded belt clasps with beast motifs found at Dongcheng: Wang 1986; Xinjiang 2011, 253 (Figure 4.6[20]). 139. See also discussion of the pan-Eurasian Pax Mongolica as “The Mongol Exchange” in Favereau 2021, 164–166. 140. When some Xiongnu affiliates of this area submitted to Han forces in the first century bce, one leader was listed as being an “East Pulei King of the Xiongnu,” implying that there were at least two kings, of East and West, that they were subordinates “of the Xiongnu,” and that they retained the local non-Xiongnu appellation of Pulei; see Hanshu 96A, 3874. 141. E.g., the sites of Shirenzigou and Dongheigou: Xibei et al. 2006; 2014b; Xinjiang and Xibei 2009 (Figure 4.6[29]). Archaeological remains of sheep and cattle alongside grindings stones at permanent mountain slope settlements suggest a continuation of agro-pastoral economies that had existed in the area in the centuries before the Xiongnu empire. The use of gold foil pressed into images of panthers and falcons, as well as the placement of whole horses overtop some burial chambers, suggests an adaptation of the preceding practices that imitated Pazyryk elites. 142. Hanshu 96A, 3876–3878. 143. Xinjiang Loulan 1988. Bronze Xiongnu-style arrowheads were found at the site of Loulan, indicating the presence of Xiongnu forces, though Chinese crossbow bolt heads and coins were also found, reflecting the later presence of forces from the Han empire. 144. Hanshu 96B, 3930. 145. The state of “Hu” (lit. fox) Hu peoples, located in the Tian Shan passes between present-day Turpan and Urumqi, was eventually subsumed by the Gushi state (Hanshu 96B, 3920).
274 Notes 146. Jiaohe north cemetery (Xinjiang and Xinjiang 1998). Other cemeteries at Jiaohe also yielded steppe-style gold foil ornaments, including some that imitated Xiongnu male belt clasps with horned oxen heads. Some graves bearing Xiongnu-style ornaments also contained gold crown rings similar to the elites of the pre-Xiongnu era, and others exhibit traditions of livestock heads at the feet of the deceased as seen in the Upper Yenesei graves at Terezin and Ala-Tei; see Xinjiang 2001, 4–48. 147. Remains at Subeixi span the from the eighth to first centuries bce: Tulufan 1984; Xinjiang 1993. 148. The site of Shengjindian: Tulufan 2013. 149. Remains near the now dry Aiding Lake also yielded the fragment of a Chinese bronze mirror, broken in the same fashion as at Xiongnu in the Mongolian steppe: Xinjiang and Tulufan 1982 (Figure 4.6[27]). 150. When Han armies later launched attacks against Gushi, armies of the Right Tuqi King were sent out to assist in their defense (Hanshu 96B, 3922). 151. Hanshu 96A, 3872. The full title, rendered into Chinese, of tongpu duwei denoted the commander/commandant (duwei) of servants or slaves (tongpu), namely those who give tribute to the Xiongnu and were thus akin to “servants” of the regime. 152. Zhongguo and Xinjiang 1990; Xinjiang 1999, 253–271 (Figure 4.6[30]). Radiocarbon dating of wood between 2155 ± 70 to 1805 ± 75 bp as well as fragments of Han bronze mirrors confirm the burials at Chawuhu III cemetery to span the Xiongnu era. The materials found at this burial ground demonstrate a significant departure in customs and material culture from the burials of the other nearby burial grounds of Chawuhu dating to preceding centuries. 153. Hanshu 96A, 3872. 154. Hanshu 96A, 3896. 155. Hanshu 96B, 3928. 156. For in-depth discussion of historical and archaeological evidence of the Kangju, see Podushkin 2000; Yatsenko et al. 2020; Stark 2021a. 157. Shiji 123, 3161; Hanshu 96A, 3891–3892. The northern residence (lit. “[the place] where the king resides in the summer”) was called Fannei (lit. “Amongst the Flourishing”), and the southern residence, about a “seven day horse ride [away]” in a region called Leyue, was called Beitian city and may be equated to the fortified site at Kanka (see Buryakov 2011). Yujian and Suxie may be attributed to the Bukhara and Samarkand areas, respectively, of Sogdiana; Stark 2021, 83. 158. While bone plates for composite bows were equivalent across the steppes, iron arrowheads in Kangju realms were a more triangular shape, as opposed to the diamond shape of arrowheads of Xiongnu warriors. For specifics of Kangju material culture during the Xiongnu era, see Torgoev and Erzhigitova 2020. 159. E.g., graves at Kul- Tobe (Podushkin 2000, 76– 82; Figure 4.6[37]), Kyzyl- Tepe (Ilyasov and Rusanov 1998), and Zhaman-Togai (Maksimova et al. 1968, 174–192; Figure 4.6[38]). 160. Podushkin 2000, 51–83. 161. For archaeological evidence of Bukharan constituents, see Kidd and Stark 2019; Stark et al. 2019; 2020; Wang et al. 2020. 162. Di Cosmo 2013, 32–33.
Notes 275 163. Juyan Hanjian 306.012. 164. Giele 2011. 165. Shiji 10, 431–432. 166. Di Cosmo 2002, 200. 167. Such intermittent migrations out of circuit (in Mongolian, otor) would have to have been authorized and coordinated by the more dominant chiefs (cf. Murphy 2014; 2015). 168. Shiji 110, 2901. 169. Shiji 110, 2904. 170. Shiji 106, 2827–2828. Zhao and Yan were stately names carried over from the pre- imperial era of Warring States, when independent kingdoms reigned over the Central Plains, and the kingdoms of Zhao and Yan and Qin expanded into the fringes of steppe realms. 171. Shiji 110, 2904. 172. Qiao 2004; Lu and Dan 2007; Kost 2014; Liu 2017. 173. E.g., Chunhua: Wang 1998, Kexingzhuang: Zhongguo 1962, and Sandiancun: Li and Zhu 1983 (Figure 4.6[31,32]). 174. Liu 2017. 175. Yan: Hebei 1996 (Figure 4.6[33]); Chu: Xuzhou 1997; Ju and Wei 1998 (Figure 4.6[34]); Nanyue: Guangzhou et al. 1991. 176. Nanjing and Xuyi 2012; 2013a; 2013b; Figure 4.6[35]. Royally appointed nobles of the new Kingdom of Jiangdu, which had been carved out of the rebellious Chu kingdom, were interred with numerous steppe-style luxuries. 177. Hebei 1979. 178. E.g., Osinsk: Smotrova 1991, Belousovo: Okladnikov 1978 (Figure 4.6[23]), and Tsagan-khushu: Kharinskii and Korostelev 2011 (Figure 4.6[24]). 179. Kharisnkii 2014. Several Elga Culture burial sites, radiocarbon dated to the second to first centuries bce, contained distinctly Xiongnu belt pieces. Most ceramics resemble the pie-crust rimmed pottery of the preceding Early Iron Age Square Grave (Slab Grave) populations, suggesting a continuation of many of the groups in these northern regions from the eras before the Xiongnu empire. 180. Shiji 110, 2893. When the Xiongnu captured the Han emissary Su Wu and sent him to exile at Lake Baikal in the early first century bce, he allegedly lived a meagre herder existence scrounging from scrubs and catching rodents and living in a felt hut, and he complained of Dingling groups stealing his cattle and sheep (Hanshu 54, 2463). 181. Sadykov 2015 and Kilunovskaya et al. 2015 (Figure 4.6[G]). Katylyg, in present-day Tuva, was an ephemeral habitation site dotted with debris and refuse pits. It was not a dense settlement of permanent pit-houses like Ivolga but was nonetheless fortified by earthen ramparts. 182. See Kharinskii 2014 (Figure 4.6[H]). 183. Kozhevnikov et al. 2001; Kharinskii and Snipkov 2004; Snipkov and Kharinskii 2012. 184. Long barbed bone harpoon heads of equivalent form were found at both Ivolga (Davydova 1995, fig. 137.9) and the cave encampment of Ust-Angi (Goryunova et al. 2011) south of Tsagan-khushu.
276 Notes 185. Specifically, a Han zhaoming mirror fragment at the site of Erkeen on the middle Lena River (Bravina et al. 2016), and composite bow pieces and bronze socketed arrowheads at the long-inhabited settlement of Ulakhan-Segelen (Alekseev 2013). 186. Several graves at the site of Chandman near Uvs Lake were typical Xiongnu wood coffin burials; Tseveendorj 1980. 187. For example, Tepsey: Pshenitsyna 1979 (Figure 4.6[22]). 188. For example, the log chamber tomb (Burial 24) at Esnoe, and the female wood coffin grave (Burial 9) set within a larger cluster of Minusinsk graves (Kurgan 1): Savinov 2009 (Figure 4.6[21]). 189. Khudyakov 1996; Soyonov 2003; Tishkin and Gorbunov 2006; Tishkin and Matrenin 2017. Even the monumental cemetery at Pazyryk (Figure 4.6[25]) had graves of significantly diminished size and investment. The cemetery of Yaloman-II (Figure 4.6[26]) has been radiocarbon dated securely to the early Xiongnu era (i.e., end of first millennium bce) and serves as a good example the northern Altai groups under the shadow of Xiongnu hegemony (Tishkin 2011). 190. Matrenin and Tishkin 2015. 191. Both graves were at the small burial spot of Chandman’ uul, separate from the larger Xiongnu burial grounds of the Baga Gazaryn Chuluu locale. This suggests it may have been a place where immigrating elites were buried even if they had become part of the Xiongnu community. Grave 2 at Chandman’ uul was radiocarbon dated to the late second century bce (2120 ± 30 bp) and contained iron arrowheads and horse bit pieces typical of Xiongnu materials: Amartüvshin and Honeychurch 2010, 231–234, 257–258 (Figure 4.6[2]). 192. One log chamber tomb with several people buried together, equivalent to burial customs that had once been prevalent in the Upper Yenesei, was found amid numerous Xiongnu ring graves at the cemetery of Khirgist-khooloi in the Gobi-Altai (Tseveendorj 1989). 193. Salkhityn Am site is radiocarbon dated to the late second to early first century bce and contains ample Xiongnu and exotic luxury items indicative of the Early Xiongnu era. Ölziibayar et al. 2019a (Figure 4.6[4]). 194. Jeong et al. 2020. The genetic baseline for “local” population at Salkhityn Am is derived from a large sample of preceding Bronze Age individuals also excavated from sites in the same region of southern Khövsgöl province. The comparative Sayan-Altai population is based on a significant sample of people from late first millennium bce (Early Iron Age) log chamber tombs of the Sayan area in Tuva and northwest Mongolia (Sagly culture) and on samples of Early Iron Age “Saka” peoples extending into the edges of eastern Kazakhstan. 195. Jeong et al. 2020, 7; this other individual was from the Xiongnu cemetery at Atsyn Gol. 196. Khavrin 2011. Almost all of the Xiongnu bronze ornaments from Terezin cemetery were made with arsenic bronze recipes equivalent to other bronzes produced in the Minusinsk Basin. 197. E.g., Kosogol: Naschyekin 1967, Uibat: Kungurova and Oborin 2013. These hoards contained a variety of bronze ornaments, including bronze hangings and open-work belt clasps of the Xiongnu, as well as iron daggers and axes typical for weapon sets in the Sayan-Altai areas.
Notes 277 Chapter 5 1. Shiji 123, 3168; Hanshu 61, 2691–2692. Although most versions of this narrative have the Yuezhi killing the Kunmo named Nandoumi, the first version of the story, presented in c hapter 123 of the Shiji, recounts the Xiongnu as having killed the father Liejiaomi. Regardless of this discrepancy, all versions state that the chanyus took on the orphaned son and raised him to become a leader loyal to the Xiongnu regime. 2. The title of the Wusun ruler is rendered as either kun-mo or kun-mi, with the former being most likely the closest rendering of the original word (Beckwith 2009, 376– 377). As the final syllable of all the recorded proper names of the Wusun rulers is –mo/ mi, it is possible that this was a suffix related to their reign as a kunmo ruler. 3. Falk 2018. Commentaries in the Chinese histories clarify that the Yabgu Lords (which Chinese accounts call xihou, or “lords of plumes in unison”) were Yuezhi (Tocharian) ranks that constituted a “subordinate” general-chiefs. No such title existed among the Xiongnu, but it is noted in Han texts that this was a title particular to Yuezhi and Wusun nobility in Central Asia (Hanshu 96A, 3891). 4. Shiji 123, 3161–3162; Hanshu 94B, 3890–3891. 5. Shiji 123, 3168. 6. Hanshu 94B, 3913. 7. Shiji 123, 3161. 8. Shiji 110, 2901; Hanshu 96B, 3913. These gifts reinforce the emphasis of Han dependency on and desire for horses from the steppes and furs from the forests, goods of which the Xiongnu had a far greater supply. When Chinese captives returned to the Han court, they reported that, before sending such gifts, the chanyu often had his shamans place invocations on the horses and furs, the implication here being that these were not blessings but curses. 9. Shiji 129, 3274; Hanshu 91, 3687; Yantielun 1.2.3 (2). A couple mentions of orange-and purple-colored “Hu” felts in the accounts of the Han garrison at Juyan show that such pastoral products were among the goods that flowed through the frontier outposts (Juyan Hanjian H12805-562.018, H10070-349.007). Furs were not among the goods mentioned, though this may reflect their more elevated value and movements through avenues like diplomatic gifting or caravans allowed south of the Long Walls. 10. Shiji 12, 448; 122, 3133. Chinese accounts tell of the Xiongnu making a wooden statue in the likeness of General Zhi Du, and, when no men were able to hit it during battle preparations, the Xiongnu deemed him invincible and decided not to raid his frontier domain. But the lack of significant Xiongnu losses and subsequent Xiongnu incursions suggest this was but a tale. The tale, however, does provide an interesting image of Xiongnu cavalry training and the carving of wood figures. 11. Shiji 11, 445; 57, 2078; 19, 1005–1006 and 1018–1021. Feng (2017) asserts this incident of seven “kings” surrendering as a major turning point in Han–Xiongnu relations, but these were minimal in comparison with the high-ranking chiefs and multitudes that were to come south during the reign of the subsequent Han emperor’s reign. 12. Shiji 108, 2862; 110, 2905; Hanshu 94A, 3765. The wagons mentioned are further explained as covered carts supposedly for “toiletries” (i.e., personal trappings) and were likely loaded with clothing, garments, and other accessories, likely bound for the camps of Great Chiefs or the Chanyu.
278 Notes 13. Shiji 110, 2905. 14. Shiji 110, 2906. This general Wei Qing would henceforth become the chief general for Emperor Wu and his war against the Xiongnu. 15. Shiji 110, 2904. The capture of heads from battle was an important aspect of the rewards system in both Xiongnu and Han societies, a practice that can be seen in depictions of war, such as in the tomb carving in Figure 5.1. 16. Shiji 110, 2906; 111, 2923. 17. Shiji 110, 2906. 18. Shiji 111, 2923–2924. 19. Shiji 110, 2907. Yudan died without heir and his domain was dissolved; two years later, this domain in the Lower Yellow River area of the Central Plains was given again, as Shezhi, to a Han general who gained victories over armies of the Xiongnu; Shiji 20, 1036; 111, 2926. 20. Shiji 110, 2907; 111, 2924. “South of the River” and “Within the River” were equivalent phrases, referring to the Ordos lands that lie south of the uppermost stretch of the Yellow River and within its great arching bend. 21. Shiji 110, 2907; 111, 2925. These numbers again may reflect literary phrasing more than specific counts; but, in any case, the numbers were, relatively speaking, staggering. 22. Shiji 110, 2907–2908; 111, 2927–2928. The young general Huo Qubing was the nephew of the chief Han general Wei Qing. 23. Shiji 110, 2908–2910. This person “of the Xiongnu” was given the title of Yabgu Lord (xihou) when he submitted to the Han. The selection of this Tocharian title suggests a deference to either Yuezhi or Wusun groups, despite his presence among the Han, and may hint at his heritage being more than merely “Xiongnu.” 24. Shiji 19, 1021; 20, 1027. Only months before Zhao Xin was given the fief, the Xiongnu defector renamed Zhao Handan had been deprived of this fief. The new Chinese name, “Trusted” (Xin) of Zhao, given to the Xiongnu chief, as well as the noble title of Lord “Compliant” (Xi), literally meaning “with wings folded in,” were surely meant to impress his submission and loyalty to the Han regime. 25. Shiji 110, 2907–2908; 111, 2927. The Xiongnu were said to have built a “fortified residence” for Zhao Xin (Shiji 110, 2910). Although some of the normative concepts of the Xiongnu assert that they did not build such places, the presence of places like Bayan-Under (Danilov and Zhavoronkova 1995) attest to the construction of non- Chinese style fortified residential complexes within the Xiongnu steppe realms. 26. Shiji 110, 2908. 27. Shiji 111, 2930. 28. Shiji 20, 1040; 111, 2931. If we accept the equation of Subu to Xubu (Mori 1950, 7), then this defector chief managed to defeat a high-ranking “king” from a noble lineage of the empire, one enmeshed in the ranks of the Great Chiefs; see Miller 2014, 12–13. 29. Shiji 110, 2908; 111, 2929–2930. These metal statues were then placed at a temple for conducting Xiongnu offerings built at Ganquan, in the mountains along the edge of the Han capital district. 30. Shiji 20, 1039–1040; 110, 2909; 111, 2931; Hanshu 55, 2480. Four of the five captured kings included those of Qiutu, Danhuan, Jizu, and Huyutu, and the Xiongnu defectors
Notes 279 with General Huo claimed credit for the capture of three of them as well as many of the other dignitaries and commanders. 31. The ode and its accompanying tale come from fragments of the Western Liang dynasty compilation called Xihe jiushi (“Hexi Old Affairs”) recorded in the later medieval sources of Yiwen leiju 72.7 and Taiping yulan 50.31–33. 32. Shiji 20, 1041–1043; 110, 2909; 111, 2933–2934; Hanshu 55, 2482–2483. 33. Hanshu 55, 2482. Huo is rewarded in the end for having captured or forced into submission a total of thirty-two “kings” of “foreign states” and the Western Regions. This greater number may include the so-called subordinate kings but in any case implies a large number of affiliate chiefs who governed the Xiongnu peripheral realms. 34. Shiji 110, 2910–2911; 111, 2934–2938. These were led by the seasoned chief general Wei Qing as well as Huo Qubing, the “General of Agile Cavalry.” 35. Shiji 111, 2929. 36. Hanshu 87B, 3561. Fenwen, a transliterated Xiongnu term, denoted a particular steppe style of wagon for transport, and the “canopied huts” refer to the felt-covered tents. Although this particular version of the tales of war was composed almost a century later, the ode was written by the famous poet Yang Xiong (53 bce–15 ce) and was hence included in the court histories. It served as a retrospective glorification of the reign of the “Eminent Militant” Emperor and a proclamation of supposed Xiongnu downfall, but, in this case, it also serves as a rare introspection into the camps of the Xiongnu rulers, the critical provisions of dried curds, and the dual importance of both grains and grass in Xiongnu lands. 37. Shiji 110, 2910. 38. Shiji 111, 2935–2936. These included close to a hundred generals, chancellors, danghu, and commandants of the upper imperial hierarchy. The personal associate of Yichixia, named Zhangqu, was of unknown rank. 39. Shiji 111, 2936. Guyan and Langjuxu peaks are likely Xiongnu transliterated names, though the latter may also be a translated place name denoting a mythical mountain where “Wolves Reside” (lang-ju). The North Sea (i.e., Lake Baikal) is referred to here as the “Sea of Plumes in Unison,” a name that alludes to the feathers of the numerous migratory birds that flocked to its shores. 40. Massive mounded tombs were erected for both generals—Wei Qiang and Huo Qubing—only several hundred meters from the royal tomb of the Militant Emperor. Huo Qubing’s tomb had statues at the entryway including a stone carving of a horse trampling a bearded Hu man; see Shaanxi 1964. 41. Hou Hanshu 80A, 2600. This particular prose was composed during the early years of the Latter Han dynasty (i.e., mid-late first century ce), though it undoubtedly represents a host of other now-lost compositions written during and after the reign of the Militant Emperor and meant to please the ears of the Han court. The “Hundred Barbarians” (Bai Man) was a general locution denoting the numerous tribes of northern and western non-Chinese peoples. Mentions of Kangju and the Kunmo, ruler of the Wusun, imply that forces from distant western affiliates of the Xiongnu were involved in the battles over the Hexi Corridor and surrounding areas. Shuzhen was yet another name of a kingdom in the Western Regions, the location of which
280 Notes is now unknown. This may also merely reflect a conflation with prose that recounts much later conquests against Xiongnu allies in the far west. 42. Shiji 110, 2911; 111, 2938 and 2940. Much of this militia had relied upon horse herds of Han nobles to bolster the Militant Emperor’s armies. The severe losses had thus drained private as well as state resources. In addition to the pressures of escalating war with enemies along the far southern frontier of the Han Empire, the lead Han general died suddenly in 117 bce, thus depriving the Chinese of their most apt commander for invading the Xiongnu realms. See also Psarras 2003. 43. Shiji 110, 2911. 44. Shiji 110, 2912. 45. Shiji 123, 3168. 46. Shiji 110, 2913. 47. Psarras 2003, 153. 48. Shiji 110, 2914– 2915. Again, this territorial division recounted in the Chinese histories reflects only those lands that directly faced the Han frontier. Although later commentaries make reference to shifts toward the lands of Tiele, which in the time of the Xiongnu would have been somewhere in the region of the Yenesei, the layout of Left and Right realms as they extended across the core steppe lands and into the northern and western frontiers is unknown. 49. Shiji 110, 2911. Along with the costly military excursions came a series of radical economic reforms in the Chinese empire, including new transport taxes and state monopolies on industries like salt and iron, which aimed to fund further campaigns. Deliberations about war and peace resurfaced periodically during the reign of the Militant Emperor. The most famous debate came in 81 bce, after his death, and is recounted in the Debates on Salt and Iron (Yantielun); see Loewe 1986, 160ff. 50. Kovalev et al. 2011, 488–493. Despite the prevalence of crossbow bolts found at the site and of the predominance of bows and crossbows in warfare between the Xiongnu and Han, there were no noted injuries from arrows among the human remains. This lack of perceptible arrow injuries does not preclude a propensity of arrow-related deaths; rather, it speaks to the difficulty of identifying arrow-induced deaths among skeletal remains; cf. the “osteological paradox” discussed in DeWitte and Stojanowski 2015. 51. Giele 2011. 52. It was after this point that the Han Empire put forth radical economic changes, including minting new coins— the wuzhu— and monopolizing industries; see Nishijima 1986. 53. Shiji 123, 3168–3169. 54. Hanshu 96B, 3901. For discussion of shifts from Saka to Wusun archaeological cultures during this pivotal time period, see Ivanov 2016. 55. Chang 2018. 56. Hanshu 61, 2692; 96B, 3901. The city of Chigu (lit. Red Valley) was located somewhere in the vicinity of Lake Issyk, though no attributable remains have yet been discovered. The Kunmo ruler, like rulers of the Yuezhi, also had an assembly of subordinate Yabgu Lords under his command. 57. Hanshu 96A, 3884; 3896–3898. These states include the Xiuxun, Juandu, Weitou, and Wulei.
Notes 281 58. Shiji 123, 3161. In addition, the Yuezhi, Kangju, and distant Yancai were all dubbed “mobile states” alongside the Wusun, whose mobile pastoral constituents “did not stick to the earth.” 59. Shiji 123, 3170 and 3173–3176. A prognostication of the Han emperor predicting that “divine horses will come from the northwest” led him at first to call the horses arriving from the Wusun “Heavenly Horses.” But as interregional politics shifted and horses from Fergana also appeared at court, he changed to calling those from the Yuan “Heavenly Horses” and those from the Wusun merely “Western Extreme” horses. 60. Shiji 110, 2914; 123, 3172. The narrative of the gift of a thousand horses also notes that rich men of the Wusun often had four to five thousand horses in their herds, a remark that seems to diminish the relative value of the gift. 61. Shiji 110, 2914. When the trusted Xiongnu emissary whom the chanyu sent in his stead died in the Han capital, Wuwei assumed he had been murdered. The chanyu then held captive the Han delegate who returned the body of his emissary. 62. Hanshu 96B, 3902–3903. The principality or “kingdom” of Jiangdu was newly established in the eastern Han realms in the wake of the Seven Kingdoms Rebellion, placing a direct member of the Han royal family at its helm. However, tombs of the Jiangdu ruling household contained many items of steppe-style prestige, evidencing the continued power of emblems of the Xiongnu regime deep within the Han empire. See Nanjing and Xuyi 2012; 2013a; 2013b. 63. Shiji 123, 3169–3172. 64. Shiji 123, 3171–3174. 65. Shiji 123, 3171. 66. Shiji 110, 2915. 67. Ibid. 68. The majority of Han fortifications were built within the areas of the upper bend of the Yellow River and its nearby mountains (Bo and Shelach 2014). However, a number of walled forts in the southern-most Gobi lands of present-day Mongolia yielded bronze crossbow triggers and bolt-heads, Chinese-manufactured pottery and roof tiles, bronze seals of Han officials, and even mass graves of beheaded and limb-severed Chinese soldiers attest to such far-flung military establishments that are mentioned in the Chinese histories (Kovalev et al. 2011; Amartüvshin et al. 2011). Park et al. 2016 demonstrate that some of the crossbow bolts were made within this far northern frontier, perhaps due to supply line issues, and that there were no indications of Xiongnu style artifacts at the sites. The garrison at Juyan yielded one of the largest caches of Chinese frontier documents, records that give much insight into the Xiongnu and their endeavors along the Han frontier (Giele 2011). 69. Han sources refer to the Gobi as the “Desert Curtain” (e.g., Shiji 110, 2908–2912). Detailed surveys using satellite imagery and some on-site verifications have shown a long stretch of fortification walls and enclosures that course through South Gobi province (of modern Mongolia) and into the central part of Inner Mongolia province (of modern China); see Batzorig 2019. Although most of these remains have not been chronologically determined, this course crosses paths with the few sites that have been verified as Han/Xiongnu-era, and it is likely the same course of the Han fortifications.
282 Notes 70. Shiji 110, 2916–2917. 71. Shiji 123, 3173–3175. 72. Shiji 123, 3176–3179. However, a year or so after the Han army departed Osh, the nobles of Yuan quickly ousted the supposedly pro-Chinese puppet king and established instead the brother of the murdered Wugua as the next king, thus preserving the Yuan ruling lineage. 73. Shiji 123, 3170 and 3173–3176. 74. Shiji 123, 3172–3173. The Arsacid dynasty, which expanded from its Parthian homeland beside the Caspian Sea out over the whole of Persia during the second century bce, was referred to in the Chinese histories as “Anxi.” 75. Shiji 110, 2917; Hanshu 54, 2460. 76. Hanshu 54, 2457–2461. 77. Shiji 109, 2877–2878; 110, 2917–2918; Hanshu 54, 2457; 94A, 3777–3778. 78. Hanshu 96B, 3922. 79. Hanshu 94A, 3778. 80. Hanshu 94A, 3790. 81. Hanshu 94A, 3778–3779. 82. Hanshu 94A, 3780. 83. Hanshu 94A, 3782. 84. Hanshu 94A, 3780. Hulugu Chanyu requested an alcoholic beverage made from nie-roots that has a particularly bitter flavor. “Alcohol” (jiu) of an unspecified sort had been among the gifts in the original Familial Alliance tribute mission to Modun chanyu (Shiji 110, 2895). 85. Hanshu 94A, 3781. 86. Hanshu 96B, 3913. 87. Hanshu 48, 2265. 88. For discussions of the failures of the Familial Alliance, see Di Cosmo 2002, 217–226; Chin 2010. 89. Hanshu 62, 2729. 90. Despite arguments that Chinese goods were acculturative materials (e.g., Honey 1992), these material models of Sinicization have not only been significantly challenged, but the entire scheme has been reversed by some scholars (e.g., Pirazzoli- t'Serstevens 2008) who demonstrate the overwhelming yet non- acculturative consumption of steppe materials by Han Chinese elites. 91. Xinshu 4.1.27. 92. Hanshu 48, 2265 n. 3. The fullest explanation of the Three Models and Five Baits (san biao wu er) strategy can be found in the book attributed to Jia Yi (201–169 bce) called the Xinshu (New Book). Although this brief description of the Five Baits policy is given in the Hanshu notes by Tang dynasty commentator Yan Shigu (581–645), the earliest received version of the Xinshu dates from the Song dynasty (960–1279). It is not the original version of the proposal and more likely reflects a “new” version for the New Book of Jia Yi as recompiled by Liu Xiang (79–8 bce) or put together even later from different versions of Jia Yi’s collected works (Nylan 1993, 167). Rather than grappling further with the authenticity of the piecemeal text in its entirety, it is
Notes 283 pertinent here only to address the chapter called “Xiongnu” and the proposed measures of Five Baits outlined therein. 93. Yü 1986, 388; Loewe 2000, 189. 94. Di Cosmo 2002, 202. The detailed description of the Five Baits is told only in the “Xiongnu” chapter in the Xin shu, and it is this text which is analyzed below (Xinshu 4.1:28–9). 95. Embroidered silks and jin-silks were among the Familial Alliance gifts, the first being fine silk with designs sewn into the cloth and the second fine having multicolored designs woven into the silk cloth; see Sheng 2010. 96. Shiji 110, 2879. Giele (2010, 242 n. 22) notes that since meat was a food for special occasions and privileged people in the predominantly agrarian Chinese society, meats would have been an especially luxuriant gift for the Han to send. 97. Analyses of the tiles have brought to light craft-mark symbols and craftwork practices that demonstrate they were made by local steppe artisans rather than by a host of immigrant Chinese workers (Danilov and Tsydenova 2011). 98. The only documented case of such a monumental palace outside of the core Kherlen Valley during the Xiongnu period is the large residence at Abakan in the Minusinsk Basin, first documented in Evtiukhova and Levasheva 1946. See Kyzlasov 2001 and Esin 2022. 99. Danilov 1998; Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015a. 100. Hanshu 94A, 3781–3782. 101. Xie 1969. 102. Shiji 111, 2929; Hanshu 8, 266; 54, 2461; 94B, 3796–3797. Husulei was also the personal name of a chanyu (Hanshu 8, 266), demonstrating the multiple uses of these words as names of ranks and names of people. 103. Hanshu 94B, 3707–3708. 104. Shiji 110, 2891. See Miller 2014 for detailed descriptions of the Xiongnu political substrata. 105. Hanshu 8, 262. 106. Hanshu 70, 3012. 107. Shiji 110, 2890; Hanshu 89, 2945. 108. Shiji 110, 2890. 109. Shiji 111, 2929–2936. 110. Shiji 110, 2902. 111. Hanshu 17, 668; 94A, 3783; 96B, 3905. 112. Hanshu 94A, 3788–3789. 113. Hanshu 94A, 3789. 114. Hanshu 94A, 3782–3783. 115. Hanshu 7, 229; 94A, 3784; Hou Hanshu 90, 2981. 116. Hanshu 8, 243–244; 69, 2972; 70, 3004; 94A, 3785–3786; 96B, 3905. 117. Hanshu 94A, 3787. 118. Hanshu 94A, 3788. 119. Hanshu 96A, 3783; 96B, 3905 and 3922. 120. Hanshu 94A, 3788; 96B, 3922–3923. 121. Hanshu 69.
284 Notes 122. Hanshu 94A, 3789. 123. Hanshu 94A, 3789. 124. Chinese documents from the frontier garrison at Dunhuang reflect the great care with which the surrendering Rizhu King was received and escorted to the Han realms (Hu 1992; Giele 2011, 58–59). 125. Hanshu 94A, 3790; 96A, 3783–3784. 126. Hanshu 94A, 3789–3790. As Yicuorou King was the younger brother of Woyanqudi, this suggests either that the new chanyu interfered as well in the high ranks of provincial hordes or that his family was from a provincial lineage not directly part of the Luandi family, as he had claimed. 127. Hanshu 94A, 3790. 128. Hanshu 94A, 3790–3791. This is the end of the first of two chapters about the Xiongnu in the Hanshu, and it certainly marked the end of the early Xiongnu era; for soon after the empire erupted in civil war. 129. Hanshu 94A, 3790. 130. Hanshu 94B, 3795. 131. Hanshu 8, 266. 132. Hanshu 94B, 3795–3796. 133. Hanshu 8, 266; 17, 673; 94B, 3796. 134. Hanshu 94A, 3796. 135. Hanshu 8, 268–269; 94B, 3797. 136. Although this event has so often been treated as the beginning of the end for the Xiongnu Empire, it was only the start of an interim era before Xiongnu imperial revival; see outline and interpretations of Xiongnu historical chronology in Psarras 2003 and 2004. Neither did this event herald a complete apex of Han power over its foreign rivals, namely the Xiongnu; see Habberstad 2017. 137. Hanshu 94B, 3797. 138. Hanshu 8, 262; 96A, 3783–3784. 139. Hanshu 94B, 3800. 140. Esin 2022. The date of this palace is estimated to the mid to late first century bce and thus within scope of the time of Zhizhi and the Xiongnu civil wars when several leaders in the northwest proclaimed themselves chanyu. Although differing claims have been made by archaeologists regarding the person or persons for whom the palatial complex was built, whether a defected Han general or Zhizhi himself, it stands as a testament to the authority of any lord who established himself in the Minusinsk Basin. 141. See discussion of Minusinsk Basin during the Early Xiongnu era in Chapter 4. 142. See analyses of station records from the Han post at Xuanquan, east of Dunhuang; Yang 2015. Those records regarding Central Asian dignitaries that bear dates are mainly from the time of contentions between Huhanye and Zhizhi. Similarly, the Wusun king called the Lesser Kunmo is mentioned in the records of Juyan garrison, amid conflicts between Huhanye and Zhihi; see Giele 2011, 60. 143. Hanshu 94B, 3802. 144. Podushkin 2000; Grenet et al. 2007. In addition to cemeteries that included burials of those resembling Xiongnu elites, the site of Kul-Tobe (ch. 4 fig. 5.36) was the location
Notes 285 of a fortified city most likely established by Kangju leaders along the Syr Darya. Etched clay tablets, inscribed in the script of Sogdian retainers and buried beneath the gate foundations, proclaim the founding of the city that took from the lands of “People of the Tents.” According to the linguistics of the name of the Tents People, and given the location of Kul-Tobe at the edge of Wusun realms, the defeated Tents People may have been the Wusun (de la Vassière 2013). 145. Hanshu 70, 3008. 146. Of the many Alexandrias in Central Asia, this city state lay at the edge of the Parthian Empire. Referred to as Wuyi Shanli (or Shanli Wuyi) in the Chinese chronicles, it is described as a thriving center of small lords and skilled magicians, with ample herds, crop fields, and orchards; Hanshu 70, 3009–3010; 96A, 3888–3889. 147. Hanshu 94B, 3802; 96A, 3892.
Chapter 6 1. Hanshu 8, 270; 94B, 3798. One catty (jin) was approximately 600 grams (1.3 pounds) in the Han Empire. The seal from the Han Emperor purportedly read “er-seal of the Chanyu” and as an er, or royal-ranked seal, rather than a zhang, or noble seal, it further elevated the chanyu above any of the Han nobility and placed him on a status equivalent to the royal emperor of the Han regime who also held an er-seal (Hanshu 94B, 3820). 2. Hanjian 387.16–17; Giele 2011, 59–60. Chinese documents at Juyan garrison record Huhanye as grazing livestock in Biaoshi county (near Zhangye), a great distance from Yunzhong and other Ordos garrisons which he called on for support. 3. Hanshu 94B, 3798–3799. 4. Hanshu 94B, 3800. 5. Hanshu 9, 280. 6. Hanshu 94B, 3801. Mentions of no more birds or beasts implied not merely that there were no more animals for the chanyu to hunt but that there was nothing more for the chanyu to gain from remaining in the frontier. 7. Hanshu 94B, 3801. 8. Hanshu 9, 295–297; 70, 3008–3015. M. Loewe (1974, 91–112) implies that Zhizhi was more of a threat to the Han and their interests in the West, than to Huhanye’s restoration—hence the Han desire to defeat and kill the other chanyu. 9. Hanshu 94B, 3803–3805. 10. Hanshu 94B, 3810. 11. The officials who had consecrated the oath with Huhanye were initially sent north to break the undesired pact, but to no avail. Later officials continually questioned whether or not “the chanyu can make certain his people do not violate the agreement” (Hanshu 94B, 3804), but the chanyus continued to cite and enforce the pact of 47 as they saw fit, as before, regardless of tribute missions or raids that ensued. 12. Hanshu 94B, 3806–3808. Fuzhulei also took the wives of his father, including the Chinese bride Wang, in accordance with Xiongnu tradition.
286 Notes 13. Hanshu 94B, 3828–3829. This practice of posthumously calling the ruler “filial” was clearly borrowed from the Han dynasty, yet the Xiongnu used their own word for such a descriptor so as not to seem as if they were emulating Chinese traditions. 14. E.g., Brosseder 2009. See also discussion of elite tombs below. 15. Hanshu 9–12; 70, 673–375. 16. Hanshu 10, 310; Yü 1967. 17. Hanshu 94B, 3812– 3818. A Chinese lacquered cup bearing the characters for “Shanglin” painted on the underside and with marks denoting manufacture in an imperial workshop in 2 bce, was found in one of the monumental tombs of the Xiongnu nobility in central Mongolia; see Umehara 1960, 28–30 and discussion of cups below. This demonstrates that Wuzhuliu Chanyu and his entourage returned from their visit to the Han with a multitude of additional gifts not mentioned in the Chinese court histories. 18. Hanshu 96A, 3892. 19. Hanshu 94B, 3811. Although in this case the chanyu sent the hostage son back after protests from the Han, the gesture had nonetheless been made and the power-game dynamics of Xiongnu hegemony retained. There is no indication that any of the people or livestock were returned to the Wusun. 20. Hanshu 94B, 3818–3819. To appease protests from the Han court, which claimed that the Western Regions were indeed lands of the Han dynasty, the “two enemies” were returned to their original realms. The thousands of wives, sons, and other people were not, calling into question any real recognition of Han western sovereignty by the chanyu. 21. Hanshu 94B, 3819. The Chinese also demanded that a “frontier servant” such as the chanyu not be allowed to use a reign name befitting a sovereign ruler and, moreover, should adopt a single-syllable name in accordance with Chinese practices. Hence, Nangzhiyasi was to shorten his given name to Zhi and never use the elevating reign name Wuzhuliu. Even though Chinese histories record Wuzhuliu and other Xiongnu royalty with single character names for the next couple decades, there is no indication that the chanyus actually used these shortened names, especially among their own constituents. 22. Hanshu 94B, 3820. 23. The plan was supposedly conceived by the Han regent Wang Mang, who was already in control of the Han court by this time and several years later would officially declare the end of the Han and establishment of his own “New” dynasty. 24. The Khitan regime known as the Liao dynasty (916–1125 ce) did just that—shift from their base in Inner Asia to one in Central Asia, centered in the Tian Shan, spanning from the Kazakh steppe to the Western Regions, and known henceforth as the “Black Khitan” (Qara Khitai) regime (1124–1218 ce); see Biran 2005. 25. Chin 2013; Brown 2014; Di Cosmo 2014. Such a pivotal empire would eventually come to be in the late first century as the Xiongnu Empire faltered, when the Kushan tribe of Yuezhi nomads took over the Hellenistic Central Asian crossroads and pushed into South Asia.
Notes 287 26. This era of contemporaneous empires is often seen as the apex of the so-called axial age of history, formally labeled so by Karl Jaspers (1949) and debated for many decades since; see Wittrock 2015. 27. Nickel 2021. 28. Brosseder 2015. Aside from the array of different styles of Chinese mirrors, local imitations also occurred. The contemporary occurrence of short daggers in lobed sheaths points as well to intense interactions with groups elsewhere in Central Asia and through to South Asia and Persia. 29. Brosseder 2011. Belt pieces in Central Asia appear most often as copies or imports, whereas those further west were reconfigurations inspired by the templates of Xiongnu belt pieces. See also Brosseder and Miller 2018. 30. Chang 2018. 31. Stark 2012. 32. Linduff 2014. 33. See Morris 2006 for models of reformations during political reformations. 34. See, e.g., the proclivity of yak-emblem belt plates in the Minusinsk Basin; Brosseder 2011, 370. 35. Brosseder 2007b. 36. Miller 2011. 37. One walled enclosure in the Lower Egiin River Valley contained no structures but some refuse, including a Chinese bronze mirror fragment provide a terminus post quem date indicative of a Late Xiongnu site (Figure 6.13[6]); see Törbat et al. 2003, 102–103, 268; Wright et al. 2009. 38. Miller et al. 2019 (Figure 6.4[11]). 39. See discussion of Kharanyn Khönd palatial enclosure in Chapter 4. 40. Eregzen 2017. For details of the buildings and architecture, see excavations of Gua Dov (National Museum of Korea et al. 2017; Figure 6.4[10]), Khüret Dov (Eregzen et al. 2019a; Figure 6.4[9]), and Terelj (Erdenebold et al. 2017). 41. See discussion in National Museum of Korea et al. 2017, 180–184. 42. Cf. Zhongguo shehui 2003. 43. National Museum of Korea et al. 2003; Usuki et al. 2018. 44. Törbat et al. 2012. 45. Eregzen 2017. 46. Eregzen et al. 2019b. 47. While the rock art tamgas are not as precisely datable as other contexts, the vast majority of tamga-bearing artifacts date to the Late Xiongnu era. Only one sheep ankle bone from Dureny settlement (Davydova and Minyaev 2003) can be dated to the early era, whereas all other ankle bones, ceramic vessels, and tiles, as well as lacquered cups with tamgas date to the second half of the Xiongnu empire (i.e., after 50 bce). 48. See the case of Blemmyean nomads of northeast Africa; Cooper 2021. 49. Törbat and others (2012) assert that these tamgas were the insignia only of the ruling Luanti clan. The small breadth of variations between tamgas could indicate more than one clan symbol, but this would at most be only a small number, comparable to the small handful of clans that constituted the imperial nobility of the Xiongnu regime. 50. Cf. Fowles and Arterberry 2013.
288 Notes 51. Summaries of square tombs in Brosseder 2011 and Yerööl-Erdene 2015. See reports of recent excavations of square tombs in Mission 2003; Miller et al. 2009; Polos’mak et al. 2011; Polos’mak and Bogdanov 2015 and 2016; National Museum of Korea et al. 2011 and 2015; Erdenebaatar 2015. 52. Konovalov 2008; Brosseder 2009. 53. Shiji 110, 2892. 54. Miller et al. 2006; 2009. For example studies of whole tomb complexes including satellite graves, see Minyaev and Sakharovskaya 2002; 2007a; 2007b; Konovalov 2008; National Museum of Korea et al. 2011; 2015; Yerööl-Erdene 2015; Erdenebaatar et al. 2015, 186–195; Eregzen et al. 2019a. 55. Lee and Miller et al. 2023. 56. Shiji 110, 2887. By the era of the Mongol Empire, the institution of kheshigten noble entourages was well-developed, in which established groups of men and their families were permanently attached to the leaders of noble hordes, acting not only as their men-at-arms day and night but also as their personal administrators, servants, cooks, and such; see Atwood 2006. 57. Miller et al. 2006; Erdenebaatar et al. 2011; Erdenebaatar 2015; Erdenebaatar et al. 2019 Figure 6.4[2]. Strontium isotopic studies by Zhou et al. 2023 suggest that the individuals interred in accompanying graves at Gol Mod II were non-local persons likely from far different parts of the empire. Whereas this study relied on teeth samples for those handful of individuals deemed non-local, the remainder of the individuals relied on bone samples, which are not viable for Stronium isotopic studies. Hence, the notion in this study that these other accompanying individuals and the chanyu rulers themselves were all locals who did not move, is far from a viable conclusion. 58. Trever 1932; Umehara 1960; Polos’mak and Bogdanov 2016. 59. Martin 2011. 60. Miller et al. 2018. 61. Korolyuk and Polosmak 2010; Batchimeg et al. 2019. 62. Brosseder 2007b; cf. Figure 6.1[2]. In addition to tombs at Tillya Tepe in Afghanistan that had ornaments of the exact same form (see Francfort 2012), some of the nearby elites in Uzbekistan clearly emulated them, as is evident in the bronze copies of such buttons found in their tombs (Wang et al. 2020). 63. Minyaev and Sakharovskaya 2007b; Eregzen et al. 2019a. 64. Yerööl-Erdene 2011; Erdene 2018. While these have often been called “unicorns,” they in fact are combinations of several different animals, not just horned horses, and this range of different horned beasts can be seen in the legends of mythical creatures of the north recorded by Chinese chroniclers in the Shanhaijing (Classic of Mountains and Seas; see Strassberg 2002 translation); further discussion in Miller and Brosseder 2013. 65. Miller and Brosseder 2013. Horned horses depicted on these ornaments have been lumped together under the label of “unicorn” (or Ch. qilin), but they in fact relate to a spectrum of different composite beasts, many of which are recorded in the Shanhaijing among legends of “the north” by Chinese chroniclers. 66. Polos’mak et al. 2011, 110–117. 67. Polos’mak et al. 2011. Treister (2016) argues that the silver piece likely came from a Hellenistic dish made somewhere in the Pontic or Asia Minor regions at the edge of
Notes 289 the Roman empire during the first century bce. It then made its way as a decontextualized piece to the Xiongnu nobles via networks of gift exchange among elites of the Eurasian steppe and was interred in square tomb 20 of Noyon Uul along with Han lacquered cups of ca. 9 bce. 68. These plaster disc molds were found in the “hoard” at Begram, demonstrating the control over mass production of prestige goods that Bactrian elites retained; see Mairs 2014. 69. Konovalov 2008, 43–50. Xiongnu square tombs employed a combination of grave construction techniques from China as well as Siberia. 70. Tomb complex 1 at Gol Mod II has the only known Roman glass cups thus far found in Xiongnu contexts. Yet these exact forms of ribbed cup-bowls, dating between the late first century bce to early second century ce, are found in many far flung areas, including India and the same Bactrian hoard at Begram where plaster molds for producing Hellenistic metal wares were found; see Whitehouse 2001. 71. One unlooted, albeit small, square tomb at Gol Mod II (Tomb 10, 8 meters wide) provides a more complete view of accoutrements (Erdenebaatar et al. 2020), yet the tomb contents confirm the same roster of wares as those found in Tomb 1. 72. Hanshu 94A, 3754; 94B, 3798 and 3823. 73. Shiji 108, 2862; 110, 2905; Hanshu 94A, 3765. Analyses of the bronze and iron cart pieces show that these vehicles were produced using steppe metallurgic traditions and are thus purported to be made by artisans of the Xiongnu; see Park et al. 2017. 74. Trever 1932; Umehara 1960; Ivanov 2011; Polos’mak et al. 2011; 2015; Polos’mak and Bogdanov 2016; Elikhina 2017. See Figure 6.4[4]. 75. Miller and Brosseder 2017. 76. Karpova et al. 2016. 77. Yatsenko 2012. For details on Khalchayan site, see Pugachenkova 1966. 78. Benjamin 2007; Bopeararchchi 2007. Fortified cities of the previous Greco-Bactrian states along the Upper Amu Darya yield ample evidence of them being taken over by the rising Kushan kings in the first to second centuries ce. See the site of Kampyr- Tepe; e.g., Rtveladze 1994. 79. While some mentions of dignitaries from the Kangju, Wusun, and even “Lesser” Yuezhi (i.e., those residing somewhere in modern Qinghai and Gansu) traveling to and from Han realms appear in records of frontier waystations in the west during the course of the Xiongnu civil war and its aftermath, the “Greater” Yuezhi (i.e., those in Bactria) seem not to have been a major force in contact with the Han; see studies of records in Giele 2011 and Yang 2015. 80. cf. Falkenhausen 2006, 365; Joyce 2000; Baines and Yoffee 1998. 81. Bayarsaikhan 2020. Although only one complete carpet has been found (Tomb 6 Noyon Uul), numerous other large square tombs have yielded pieces that match, showing that the same carpet was repeatedly produced for consumption by Xiongnu nobles; see Umehara 1960; Polos’mak et al. 2011; Elikhina 2017. 82. Circular graves had a bimodal size distribution, with most in the first range of 2–7 meters in diameter and far fewer in the range of 8–12 meters. Square tombs had a similar multimodal distribution, with the majority of them in the 8–15 meter range,
290 Notes far fewer 16–20 meters in size, and occasional tombs in the range of over 25 meters. See statistical analyses in Miller 2014, 29–31. 83. For further discussion of this overlap between circular graves and square tombs at singular cemeteries like Takhiltyn Khotgor (Figure 6.4[1]), see Miller 2011. 84. The range of turquoise stones mounted in gold bead and filigree settings were copies (or imports?) of jewelry worn by elites in Central Asia as far as present-day Afghanistan; see Brosseder 2007b. 85. A few examples, such as the dragons and phoenixes mentioned above, also existed, but the majority of images were of steppe-inspired composite creatures and the pieces were of steppe manufacturing traditions and local metal sources. 86. Xinshu 4.1, 28: “Hu nobles make contracts [for pacts] with alcohol.” 87. Along with fragments of Chinese lacquered vessels, pieces of at least two Roman glass bowls were discovered within the tomb; Erdenebaatar 2015. One complete Roman glass bowl was discovered in the largest accompanying grave (no. 30, directly adjacent to the main tomb) along with a Chinese bronze platter and two Chinese lacquered bowls; Erdenebaatar et al. 2011. These are the only known Roman glass bowls in Xiongnu burials, and they thus reiterate the ultimate status of the person, likely a chanyu, for whom Tomb 1 complex was constructed. 88. Hong 2006; Chen 2007. 89. Chinese cups with ear handles were used for both eating and drinking; Hong 2006, 23–25. 90. Pirazzoli-t’Serstevens 2009. 91. Ceramic cups and bowls of simple open form were regular items in both nomadic camps and permanent villages of the Xiongnu (Davydova 1995; Davydova and Minyaev 2003; Wright 2011; Pousaz et al. 2013), but these were almost never placed in Xiongnu graves. Only the exotic service wares of great value were offered to the deceased. 92. For example, see the round-belly footed bronze cauldron (Figure 4.4[2]). Smaller flat- bottomed cauldrons were also used, in both bronze and iron forms. 93. While ceramic versions of ear-handle cups were widespread in Han China, only the luxuriant lacquered versions were consumed by the Xiongnu. This further proves that ear-handle cups among the Xiongnu elite was a matter of flaunting access to long- distance trade and not of conforming to Han customs. 94. Miller and Brosseder 2017. 95. Hong 2005. The label of chengyu (“[fit for] the [Han] imperial carriage”) only appeared on lacquer vessels between 17 bce and 71 ce, roughly the time of the Late Xiongnu regime, signifying a new era of imperial workshop lacquers that were most likely ramped up to meet heightened demand by foreign elites desiring to consume Han royal wares—a demand created mostly significantly by the Xiongnu nobles and their lesser elites. 96. Hong 2006; Pirazzoli-t’Serstevens 2007; Chistyakova 2009; 2011; Yerööl-Erdene and Otani 2015. See note 17 above regarding the visit of Wuzhuliu Chanyu to Shanglin Pleasure Park and the cup marked with the characters of Shanglin (Umehara 1960, 28–30). 97. Cf. Oakley 2013.
Notes 291 98. Pirazzoli-t’Serstevens 2009; Elikhina 2014. 99. Lacquered cups have been found at Dunhuang (Stein 1921), and multiple records regarding lacquer wares, their capacities, and their values have been found at Juyan (Hanjian 100.009, 146.034, 146.074, 156.033, 225.042, 249.003, 265.041). 100. For detailed listing and discussion of lacquered objects in Xiongnu contexts and other areas of Eurasia, see Brosseder 2015, 249–259. Further analyses demonstrate that almost all findings occurred within the larger category of circular graves, those that also contained wooden coffins. 101. Tamiryn Ulaan Khoshuu in central Mongolia (Purcell and Spurr 2006; Louis 2007; Batsaikhan 2014; Batsukh et al. 2016; Törbat and Crubézy 2021). 102. Chandman Khar Uul in eastern Mongolia (Amartüvshin et al. 2015a, 179–180). Inscription details were transcribed and analyzed by Uchida 2019. 103. Brosseder and Miller 2018. 104. Miller and Brosseder 2017. 105. Törbat 2011; Brosseder 2015, 236–249. Chinese bronze mirrors found further west in central Eurasia were by and large unbroken, demonstrating fragmentation of foreign mirrors as a custom particular to Inner Asia. 106. Only a few whole steppe style mirrors have been found in Xiongnu graves. These include those at Gol Mod II (Miller et al. 2006) and Bayan Khoshuu Uul (Erdenebold et al. 2018). 107. E.g., Lankton et al. 2012. Trace elements indicate that even the equivalent mosaic beads were made in far-distant regions of Iran and the Mediterranean. 108. Bayarsaikhan et al. 2011. See Figure 6.4[8]. This site was far smaller than Burkhan Tolgoi, having only thirty graves, five or so of which were in the range of large (i.e., greater than 8 meters) size, but it was the sole cemetery in the upper valley area of Bort. 109. Shiji 110, 2903 and 2905; Yantielun 2; Hanshu 94A, 3780; 94B, 3798–3799, 3803, and 3823. 110. Jin-silk, a compound figured cloth often dyed multiple colors, was the most valued of silk textiles. The tombs at Noyon Uul provide the best-preserved examples of high- quality silks imported from China; see Polos’mak and Bogdanov 2016; Elikhina 2017. 111. See Hansen and Wang 2013 for discussion of silk as a form of tax and currency in Chinese society. 112. Dunhuang Hanjian 620, 838A, 1144, 2258A, 2324A, 2327; Juyan Hanjian 067.027, 069.001, 214.093, 326.020, 229.049, 499.001, 155.013, 163.003, 206.028, 221.019, 308.007. One bamboo document at Juyan has a list of scaled measures needed for silk cloth accounting and the other side has a list of six different kinds of silks, including dyed silk, rough silk, and silk batting (Juyan Hanjian 336.034). 113. For examples, see Mission 2013, 297–312 and Ölziibayar et al. 2019a, 138–139. 114. See the concept of “bulk luxury” in Kepecs 2003. 115. Juyan Hanjian H02912-100.009, H06509-225.042, H06511-225.44, H08178-265.041, H10563-413.006; H12805-562.018, H10070-349.007. 116. Cf. Bang and Kołodziejczyk 2012. 117. Honeychurch 2015, 263–265. 118. Jeong et al. 2020.
292 Notes 1 19. Cf. multiscalar networks approach for archaeology in Knappett 2011. 120. Smith 2003; Hammer 2014. 121. Isotopic studies of the people buried at Burkhan Tolgoi show that the majority of them had a diet heavy in C3 (wheat and barley) and C4 (millet) plants; Hrivnyak and Eng 2020. Findings of wheat and barley grains at habitation sites further evidence the consumption of domesticated grains; Wright et al. 2009. For discussion of grain consumption throughout the Xiongnu Empire, see Wilkin et al. 2020a. 122. Wright et al. 2009. 123. For further details, see discussion of Xiongnu sites in Egiin Valley in Honeychurch 2015. 124. All habitation sites were recorded according to surface scatters of artifacts, with a few sites further tested with subsurface investigations (Wright 2006; Honeychurch et al. 2007; Wright et al. 2009). 125. Törbat et al. 2003. Whereas only one grave each from a few of the other smaller sites was excavated, Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery was completely excavated. Radiocarbon dates of wood from three graves, from 2040 ± 35 to 1720 ± 40 bp, indicate late Xiongnu era (Wright 2006, 300–301). Additional radiocarbon dates have further refined the chronology of the site, utilizing improved methods and the dating of faunal as well as human remains, providing a time span for the cemetery between the end of first century bce to beginning of the second century ce (Brosseder and Yerööl- Erdene 2011, 55–56; cf. Törbat et al. 2003, 136–137). 126. Genetic studies (mtDNA) show close kin relations between most people at the site, from likely only a few family groups, demonstrating that this was the burial ground of a singular lineage group; see Keyser-Tracqui et al. 2003 and Keyser et al. 2013. Similar evidence for family clustering at Xiongnu cemeteries was found at Tamiryn- Ulaan-Khoshuu; see Keyser et al. 2020. 127. Three-quarters of the graves (78/103) had livestock offerings, of which one-third were found in the more simply furnished graves. A greater than average number of horses were sacrificed for offerings in Burkhan Tolgoi graves, and about a third of those were younger horses, between 6 months and 5 years old; see Lepetz and Decanter 2013. 128. Törbat et al. 2003 and Mission 2013; see Figure 6.4[6]. The entire cemetery at Burkhan Tolgoi was excavated, providing a rare opportunity to view an entire spectrum of interments at a single latter-era Xiongnu site. The large and medium burials correspond to circular graves of the 8–12 meter and 4–8 meter size categories. 129. A small portion of people buried at Burkhan Tolgoi had evidence of significant linear enamel hypoplasia on their teeth, showing dietary stress early in life; Machicek 2011, 90; Mission 2013, 330–332. 130. Mission 2013, 339–342. These include deep spinal and cranial lesions and possible perimortem decapitations. 131. Amartüvshin et al. 2015b; Eregzen 2018; 2020; Figure 6.13[2]. Baruun Belseg has approximately 40 circular graves. 132. Törbat et al. 2003, 97; Figure 6.13[5]. 133. Törbat et al. 2003, 97; Figure 6.13[3]. This Xiongnu grave had been set among a larger site of graves from the preceding centuries, and centuries later elites of the Mongol regime were also laid to rest at this place.
Notes 293 1 34. Wright et al. 2009, 378–379; Honeychurch 2015, 265–267. 135. Galdan 2015. 136. Wright 2006; Honeychurch et al. 2007; Wright et al. 2009. A multitude of ceramic sherd scatters of the Xiongnu era measuring less than 0.1 hectare were found throughout the open areas and upper ravines of the Lower Egiin River Valley, indicating the presence of numerous small or short-lived habitation sites throughout the area. Many of them had sherds equivalent to Xiongnu-era pottery, though only a few were excavated, revealing artifacts diagnostic of the Xiongnu era. Large settlement surveys with intensive subsurface prospection in Khanui River Valley yielded an equivalent distribution of habitation sites, and the recovered habitation remains further suggests a seasonal dichotomy of encampments; see Houle and Broderick 2011 and Houle 2016. In both areas, modern patterns of pastoral “migrations” show that herders stay within the same area, moving only between the riverside at summer and the shelter of foothills for the winter. 137. Shiji 110, 2892. 138. Wright et al. 2009, 379–380. 139. Wright et al. 2009, 377–378. 140. Törbat et al. 2003, 102–103. 141. Wright et al. 2009, 377–382. 142. Fernandez-Gimenez 1999. Before communization of Mongolia in the modern era, pastoral circuits in and near the Gobi–Altai fluctuated in size and direction but often overlapped at hilly areas where water and grass were more plentiful. See also Porensky et al. 2013 and Marshall et al. 2018 for analyses of pasturing “hot spots” in the case of herders in Africa. 143. Amartüvshin and Honeychurch 2010; Figure 6.4[7]. 144. Honeychurch 2015, 269–270. See also Hammer 2014 and Wright 2016 for discussions of mobile pastoralist “anchors” and “moorings.” 145. Honeychurch 2015, 141–143. A few remains of wheat and barley were found in pits and hearths of habitation sites (Wright et al. 2009), and isotopic analyses of human remains at Burkhan Tolgoi cemetery show that C4 plants, likely millet, were significant parts of the local diet (Hrivnyak and Eng 2020). Whether or not grains were produced in Egiiin Valley, they were clearly consumed at and were likely moved through such nodal locales. 146. Wright et al. 2009, 376. On average, ephemeral habitations in Lower Egiin expanded from 0.25 to 1.26 hectares. Similar growth during the Xiongnu era occurred for habitation sites in Khanuy Valley; see Houle and Broderick 2011. 147. Honeychurch 2015. 148. Gardner 2016. 149. Clark 2014, 158–171. 150. Honeychurch 2015, 232–234. 151. Honeychurch 2015, 240. 152. Allard and Erdenebaatar 2005; Bayarsaikhan et al. 2020a. 153. Miller at al. 2006; Erdenebaatar 2015. 154. Dashzeveg et al. 2020. Seven sites and a total of 158 graves were documented in the sum; the site of Zuun Mandal Khairkhaan had ninety-five graves.
294 Notes 155. Odsüren et al. 2020. Four sites and a total of ninety-five graves were documented in the sum; the site of Bulagtai Uul had sixty-seven graves. 156. Amartüvshin et al. 2017; 2019a. 157. See Miller 2011 for a summary of Xiongnu peripheries. Data from the southern Altai province of Khovd divulged there are augmented here with new data from subsequent fieldwork by Törbat and others (2015a) and combined with survey and excavation data of the Mongolian–Korean expeditions in Gobi-Altai province (Buyeo and Institute MAS 2010; 2011; 2015) for an expanded discussion of the greater western periphery. 158. Navaan 1999 and Miller et al. 2009 for Takhiltyn Khotgor (THL), Figure 6.14[1]; Bayarsaikhan et al. 2011 for Shombuuzyn Belchir (SBR), Figure 6.14[2]. 159. Miller 2011, 473–475. Square tombs of THL ranged approximately from 5 to 15 meters, but made up only about half of the total burials. Almost half of the square tombs at Gol Mod II (GM2) were in the same range, though the other larger ones ranged from 20 to 30 meters and even greater for 47-meter-wide tombs like Tomb 1, discussed above. Most other square tombs sites in central Mongolia contained numerous tombs of this larger category. Circular graves at THL, as well as at the three nearby small sites, spanned the same range as the square tombs and included the largest category of circular graves (i.e., between 8 and 12 meters). 160. Miller 2011, 468–469. Whereas THL had 129 burials, and the burial plots nearby had 14, 7, and 26 burials, burial sites through the mountain pass and on the other side progressively had 27 (ADM), 33 (SBR), 20 (BDG), 6 (YMU), 20 (KUD), and 29 (AKU) total burials each. All burials of these latter sites were within the range of small to medium sized graves (2–8 meters). 161. Bayarsaikhan et al. 2011 (SBR); Törbat et al. 2015 (AKU). See discussion above regarding SBR graves. 162. Extensive surveys in Khovd (e.g., Törbat et al. 2015) and Gobi-Altai (Buyeo National Research Institute and Institute of Archaeology MAS) provinces have documented only one burial site with square graves, within the vicinity of Khirgist Khooloi Xiongnu cemetery (Figure 6.14[8]). No other monument types exist in these areas that have been securely dated (i.e., radiocarbon dated) to the mid-first millennium bce. 163. Lee and Miller et al. forthcoming. 164. See discussion of archaeological evidence of women and power in the Early Xiongnu era in Chapter 4; Brosseder 2007a; Linduff 2008; Ölziibayar et al. 2019a; Jeong et al. 2020. 165. These sites have fifty-four (Figure 6.14[10]) and sixty-six (Figure 6.14[11]) circular graves. 166. Törbat et al. 2015. These two locales have sixty-eight and fifty graves total, respectively, and are approximately 60 kilometers from one another. Circular graves at the sites, however, remain within the range of small to medium size (2–8 meters) and do not include graves of the largest category (8–12 meters). 167. Yerööl-Erdene et al. 2016; Figure 6.14[5]. 168. Ovoon Khar had fifty-seven graves, only thirteen of which were square tombs and six of which measured between 15 and 40 meters.
Notes 295 169. Nikolaev 2003. There were only five square tombs, all but one measuring less than 15 meters. There were at least 25 circular graves in clusters, 5 of which were well over 15 meters wide. See also discussion in Miller 2011. 170. Buyeo and Institute MAS 2011; 2012; 2015. The other major nodes have seventy-nine (Figure 6.14[7]), ninety-seven (Figure 6.14[8]), and fifty-six (Figure 6.14[9]) circular graves each. Shurgyn Gol (Figure 6.14[6]) has roughly a hundred graves, but it lies deep within the Khangai ranges and thus may be considered outside of the Gobi- Altai ecosystem area. 171. Buyeo and Institute MAS 2015, 126–138. One of the larger circular graves at Elst Tolgoi had a wood plank coffin nested within an outer wooden chamber and contained, along with livestock offerings and bow and arrow pieces indicative of Xiongnu nomadic traditions, remnants of domestic grains as well as a farming hoe with wood handle and iron head. 172. Tseveendorj 1989. The ninety-seven burials of Khirgist Khooloi were divided into three nearby clusters and included circular graves measuring between 5 and 12 meters. 173. Cf. Johannesson 2016. 174. Buyeo and Institute MAS 2011, 56–61; Figure 6.14[13]. Shakhar Tolgoi was a mixed site of a dozen small to medium Xiongnu circular graves scattered among half a dozen Bronze Age monuments, including a large khirigsuur complex over a hundred meters broad with numerous livestock offering circles and stone mounds for sacrificial horse heads. The one excavated grave had a small wooden coffin with few burial offerings. 175. This pattern is well demonstrated at locales in the core Xiongnu realms, where small Xiongnu burial grounds of a couple dozen graves were set within the vicinity of Square Grave sites yet distinctly separate from them by a kilometer or so; see Honeychurch 2015, 242 and Johannesson 2016. 176. Batbold et al. 2015. Zürkh Uul was flanked by clusters of 4, 13, 30, and 320 Bronze Age monuments. The nearby peak beside Del Ulaan cemetery was flanked by clusters of 2, 6, 8, and 10 Bronze Age monuments. 177. Cf. Smith 2003. 178. Upham 1992; Parker 2003; Stek and Düring 2018. 179. Network approaches for archaeological studies of ancient polities occurred as early as the 1960s–1970s but have only recently experienced a surge in studies such as ML Smith 2005; Campbell 2009; Glatz 2009; Schortman and Urban 2012. With these more metaphorical uses of networks came applications of formal networks analyses to archaeological materials; see Mills 2017. 180. Sensu Gamble 1998. 181. Knappett 2011, 99; Fulminate 2012. 182. Cf. Sindbæk 2013. 183. Sensu Massey 1999. 184. For pitfalls of archaeological networks analyses, see Sindbæk 2013. Formal evaluations that utilize both graph theory and statistical software of Social Networks Analyses (SNA) have been successfully conducted with archaeological datasets, but these have mostly consisted of settlements as nodes and utilitarian goods, especially pottery, as
296 Notes the materials for determining connectivity. See, e.g., Mizoguchi 2009, Munson and Macri 2009, Mills et al. 2013 and case studies in Knappett 2013. For SNA techniques and programming, see Scott 2000; Carrington et al. 2005; Hanneman and Riddle 2005; de Nooy et al. 2005; Hansen et al. 2011. For an overview of recent and potential archaeological applications, see Mills 2017. 185. Miller 2015, 147–151. 186. Mills et al. 2013 demonstrate this incongruence for archaeological data from the American Southwest, notably among populations who moved only by foot. 187. The measures of node centrality in network analysis, in the order that they are addressed here, are degree centrality, betweenness centrality, closeness centrality, and “power” centrality rendered through eigenvector and Katz centrality measures. A combined multicomponent measure of centralities yields the most robust understanding of large networks; see Sciarra et al. 2018. 188. Degree centrality acts as the most basic index of social activity and connectivity; Hage and Harary 1983, 30. 189. Cf. Walter Christaller’s (1933) original Central Place Theory, which was grounded in studies of land use and interaction in settled agricultural societies. For summary and critique of the relevant theories, see Fischer 2011. 190. Knappett 2011, 42. 191. Granovetter 1973 outlines the “strength of weak ties” while Watts and Strogatz 1988 summarize the formation of “small world” networks. See Brosseder and Miller 2018 for combined applications of these concepts to trans-Eurasian flows of the so-called Silk Roads. 192. Michael Doyle (1986, 128), relying on both modern and classical examples, purports that the “essential analytical starting point for the explanation of empire lies in the relationship between a metropole and a periphery.” 193. See critique of this search in Bemmann 2011, 442–445. 194. Yerööl-Erdene 2011; Honeychurch 2015, 272–274. 195. See Chapter 3 for discussion of Left and Right as divisions of a more political than spatially conscribed character. 196. See Crumley 1995 for characteristics of heterarchies discernible in the archaeological record. 197. Yü 1986; Barfield 1989. 198. Hanshu 99B, 4121. 199. Giele 2011, 52. 200. Giele 2011, 53. 201. Hanshu 12, 506. 202. Hou Hanshu 12, 505–506. 203. Bielenstein 1954, 113; see statistics and details in Hou Hanshu chapters 1B and 113. 204. Hou Hanshu 90, 2985. 205. de Crespigny 1984. 206. Hou Hanshu 1B, 74–75. 207. Hou Hanshu 89, 2944–2948.
Notes 297 208. Modern historians have repeatedly recycled the assumption of Chinese chroniclers that this split the Xiongnu Empire in half and was the impetus of its downfall. However, Psarras (2004) rightly underscores the error of this assertion. 209. Hou Hanshu 90, 2985. 210. See Psarras 2004 for a detailed timeline of events related to Han–Xiongnu interactions. 211. Hou Hanshu 89, 2949. 212. Hou Hanshu 88, 2920–2921; Benjamin 2007; Bopeararchchi 2007. 213. de Crespigny 1984. 214. Hou Hanshu 23, 815–817. This famous inscription, preserved in the Hou Hanshu, was discovered recently in its entirety on a rock outcrop of a low peak in the Gobi Desert near the Ongi River (Figure 6.4[12]). 215. Hou Hanshu 89, 2950. 216. Sanguozhi 30, 858.
Chapter 7 1. Hou Hanshu 89, 2939. The final text of the Hou Hanshu was composed centuries after the fall of the Han and Xiongnu empires, though this chapter on the “Southern Xiongnu,” like many in the Hou Hanshu, was based on an equivalent chapter called “Xiongnu Southern Chanyu” from the now highly-fragmented Dongguan Hanji, which had been composed during the time of the Latter Han. See Bielenstein and Loewe 1993 for summary of Dongguan Hanji. 2. In 94, as the empire crumbled, a Southern Xiongnu chief staged a coup with tens of thousands of northern defectors, was subsequently raised up as the rightful chanyu, and rebelled against the Han with aims to take over the steppe empire. His attempt failed. For a detailed narrative of this and related events, see de Crespigny 1984. 3. Hou Hanshu 89, 2944–2945. The names of Rizhu, Wenyudi, and Zhanjiang are likely transliterations of Xiongnu words for kingly titles, ranks that had previously been recorded in the Chinese histories as Generals, Commandants and Household Administrators (Danghu), respectively. Like many proper names of the Xiongnu, including “tuqi” for “wise,” these were likely derived from words of specific meanings used for personal names or titles among the Xiongnu. There is no reason to believe there was any significant change to the traditional Xiongnu hierarchy. In fact, the Southern Xiongnu rulers most likely sought to preserve it, in hopes that a transition to retaking all domains of the steppe empire would be easier. 4. Sanguozhi 30, 835. 5. One tomb dating to the late second century in the Han colony at Shangsunjiazhai (Figure 7.2[10]) contained a bronze camel seal that designated its bearer as a “Xiongnu of the Han” and a “Han Chief;” Qinghai 1993, 150–152. 6. Miller 2015, 151. 7. Pan 2011. 8. Tian and Guo 1980b; Yikezhaomeng and Nei Menggu 1980. See Figure 7.2[7]. Xigoupan also had graves from local kings during the early period of the establishment of the Xiongnu Empire as well as local nomadic elites in the era after the fall of
298 Notes the Han, exhibiting a high degree of continuity of local leadership. For comparisons with prestige goods in Xiongnu square tombs, see Pan 2004 and Miller 2015, 158–160. 9. This colony is represented by the fully excavated cemetery at Dabaodang (Shaanxi and Yulin 2001; Figure 7.2[9]). For detailed discussions of mixed material culture and hybrid practices at Dabaodang and other Ordos sites, see Miller 2015. 10. These particular tombs and their tiles occurred at Zhaowan cemetery (Baotou 1991; 2000; Figure 7.2[8]). See discussion in Miller 2015, 148–149. For examinations of statements on eave tiles, see Chen 2003 and Zhang 2003. Relative dating places these tombs to sometime in the first century, when the “Northern” Xiongnu Empire still existed. 11. See Miller 2015 for arguments regarding the “Middle Ground” created in the Ordos frontier. 12. Hou Hanshu 89, 2954. Yuchujian was also the last of the three sons of Punu Chanyu, thus exhausting the steady line of linear succession in place since 48 ce. See detailed narrative of Division and Destruction in de Crespigny 1984. 13. Hou Hanshu 89, 2956–2958. 14. Hou Hanshu 6, 269; 89, 2960–2963. 15. Hou Hanshu 90, 2989. 16. Weishu 102, 2268–2269; Beishi 97, 3219–3220. 17. Hou Hanshu 90, 2986. The original word of luo may be loosely translated as “tribe,” though it mainly designates a large social “division,” the exact character of which is difficult to ascertain. 18. At Baga Gazaryn Chuluu (Figure 7.2[4]), one circular grave dating to the early Xiongnu era (Alag Tolgoi 3) was disturbed by a simple flexed burial of a man with no accompanying goods, dug into the upper layer of the original grave pit that dated to the third century; Amartüvshin and Honeychurch 2010, 234–236. 19. For example, Bulan Toirom grave in the Gobi desert (179 ± 33 cal.ce); Figure 7.2[11]; Amartüvhsin and Batzorig 2018. 20. Efforts to provide well-calibrated radiocarbon dates of circular graves for finer chronologies of Xiongnu era remains have revealed a number of Xiongnu style burials that date through the second century; see, e.g., Brosseder and Yerööl-Erdene 2011. 21. Weishu 103, 2290–2291; Beishi 98, 3250–3251. Before these “remainders of the Xiongnu” were conquered by Shelun, their hordes under Bayeji had constituted a polity of mobile pastoralists described as “especially rich and strong.” Some historians position their location of “to the northwest” of the expanding Rouran as being in the Altai Mountains (i.e., at the northwest edge of the original Xiongnu domain; cf. de la Vassière 2015, 186–189), but they may also have been to the immediate northwest of Shelun’s Rouran confederacy, which was based primarily in southern Mongolia, thus placing the tribes of Bayeji somewhere within the core Mongolian grasslands of what had been Xiongnu Empire. 22. Odbaatar 2018; Odbaatar et al. 2019; Figure 7.2[2]. 23. See triangular marked sites in Figure 7.2 and Wei 2004 for descriptions of those Xianbei remains in Inner Mongolia. 24. Hou Hanshu 90, 2989–2990; Sanguozhi 30, 858 n. 1. 25. Miller 2016.
Notes 299 26. Gardiner and de Crespigny 1977. 27. Hou Hanshu 90, 2989; Miller 2016. Because his daring new dynasty failed to live beyond his rule, de Crespigny (1984, 337) aptly labels Tanshihuai a “pirate king,” more of conquests than of establishments. 28. Sanguozhi 30, 858, note containing excerpt from “Western Rong” chapter of Weilue, ca. 239–265. 29. A plethora of sites attributed to the Bulan-Koby archaeological culture, including Shiveet Khairkhan in Mongolia (Figure 7.2[12]; Batbold 2020; Batbold et al. 2018), have been dated to the so-called Xianbei era of second to fourth centuries, though the materials at these cemeteries demonstrate they were quite different from Xianbei groups in northern China. Additional remains in Tuva and Minusinsk add to the corpus of archaeological remains demonstrating significant groups in the greater Sayan-Altai in the centuries following the Xiongnu Empire; see Brosseder 2018, 182–183. 30. Vadetskaya 1999; Pankova 2019. These elites are attributed to the Tashtyk archaeological culture. 31. Weilüe excerpt in Weishu 30, 858 n. 1; Qishu 59, 1025. As the Xiongnu word for slave resembled the sound of zi, they were referred to in Chinese accounts as the zi-captives, or Zilu. 32. Hou Hanshu 89, 2964–2965. 33. Hou Hanshu 89, 2965. 34. These were found mostly within Shaanxi province; Luo 1980 and Pang 1986. They were equivalent in size and form to the bronze camel seals given by Han rulers to the Southern Xiongnu chiefs; see Figure 7.1. 35. Hou Hanshu 8, 355; 89, 2964–2965; 90, 2983; Jinshu 97, 2548–2550. The clan of Xiuchu first appeared as a powerful group that submitted to northern Han colonies along with Hunye hordes during the wars of the Militant Emperor (see Chapter 5). By the time of the Jin dynasty the Xiuchu had overthrown the Southern Xiongnu and were ruling the Ordos, though these “Xiongnu” were recorded in the Book of Jin (Jinshu) under the chapter heading of Di tribes. 36. Jinshu 97, 2549–2550. 37. The entirety of what had been the Han Chinese empire was reunited under the Jin Dynasty of the Sima family during the late third century, but this only lasted a few decades before the entire north splintered again under the pressure of so-called barbarians. 38. Honey 1990. 39. From Sogdian Letter 2, tr. de la Vassière 2005, 44. The Sogdian way of writing the name “Xiongnu” was “Hun” (Xwn/Huŋa), the former being only a Chinese transliteration of an original steppe name. See also translation of Letter 2 in Sims-Williams 2001, and discussion of the multiple derivatives of the name “Xiongnu” in Atwood 2012. 40. Claims of Han as well as Xiongnu heritage for the various conquest dynasties in the north were also in great part a desire by the eventual Chinese chroniclers to rationalize their success, even if short-lived, as coming only from a ruling lineage that had once founded a long-lived dynasty, whether Han or Xiongnu; Holmgren 1982, 102. 41. Honey 1990.
300 Notes 42. Jinshu 105, 2735. 43. This new dynasty of non-Chinese groups also took on a Chinese dynasty name—Qin. 44. By the time the Yuwen tribe of supposed Xiongnu origins managed to stake its own sovereign claims, pronouncing a Zhou dynasty over the western half of Chinese realms in the sixth century, it was deemed to be of Xianbei not Xiongnu stock. See Yi-Zhoushu. 45. Weishu 103, 2304. The language and customs of the Yuwen were greatly different from the Xianbei tribes and so were their traditions of shaved heads radically different from the long woven braids of those who identified themselves with the Xiongnu. 46. Compare with “Pseudo-Huns” in Maenchen-Helfen 1955. 47. Di Cosmo 2018, 44–49. 48. For summary see Graff 2002. 49. The first (Former) Qin dynasty was founded by a leader of the Fu lineage of Di tribes (351–394) and the second (Latter) Qin dynasty was of the Yao lineage of Qiang tribes (384–417). 50. Recent surveys and excavations (Shaanxi et al. 2011) demonstrate that the site attributed to Tongwancheng was continually reused during the subsequent major dynasties of Tang, Song, and Yuan—that is, from the seventh through the fourteenth centuries—making the exact character of Bobo’s city difficult to archaeologically ascertain at present. 51. One family of “Northerner” generals who served the Wei dynasty of Tuoba-Xianbei were supposedly descended from the Xiongnu royal family. Their family name Poliuhan was said to derive from a transcription error of the personal name Panliuxi, that of a Southern Xiongnu Right Luli King who had submitted to Cao. His submitted family then took on a new lineage name, shedding any link to Xiongnu nobility; Beishi 88, 1902–1903. 52. See Dien 2007 for summaries of material culture during the Northern Dynasties. 53. Atwood 2015a. The Chinese characters for Xiongnu, which are read in modern Mandarin Chinese as “Xiongnu,” in the Han era would have sounded closer to a reading of “Khongai” (*Xonŋai). 54. See Benjamin 2007 for full treatise on the historically detailed westward migrations of the Yuezhi and the founding of an empire by their Guishuang (i.e., Kushan) clan centered in Bactria. 55. Morris 2020a; Stark 2021a. 56. Brosseder 2011, 384–392. Single mounted warriors and single Bactrian camels were the most common motifs of belt plates in the central and western Eurasian steppes. 57. Watt 2004. One gold belt plate with multiple beasts rendered in the same fashion as early Xiongnu belt plates was inscribed with the Chinese characters “Gold of Yituo,” indicating that Chinese artisans were still manufacturing prestige goods for consumption by steppe elites. In this case it was a badge for the historically attested Tuoba- Xianbei Chief Yituo, who ruled parts of northern China from 295 to 305. 58. See detailed reports and summaries of Xianbei archaeological remains of Inner Mongolia in Wei 2004. 59. For example, the Xianbei cemeteries of Datong, near the capital of the Tuoba-Xianbei regime of Wei; Shanxi et al. 2006.
Notes 301 60. Sanguozhi 30, 835–839. The majority of tribes mentioned for this confederacy are mentioned nowhere else; only two tribes in the East, Mijia and Suli, and one tribe in the Center, Murong, which later established prominent Xianbei dynasties in the far eastern realms; see Sanguozhi 26, 727 and 731. 61. Miller 2016. 62. Falk 2018. 63. See revised chronology of the early Kushan rulers in Bopeararchchi 2007. 64. Lam 2013. 65. Morris 2020b. 66. See Kradin 2005 and Golden 2013 for summaries of the Rouran and their political entity. Rouran, Ruanruan, or Juanjuan were derivatives of a derogatory label of “wriggling worms” used by the Xianbei for the dispersed tribes of the northern steppe, and the other names of Ruirui and Rourou by which they were called in historical accounts are difficult to discern. We do not know of any political designation or dynastonym which they gave themselves. 67. Weishu 103, 2289–2901. 68. Weishu 103, 2901. 69. Kradin 2005, 162. 70. Liangshu 54, 817. 71. One ritual site with sufficient radiocarbon dates implies the use of stone rings as ritual offering spaces in the Rouran era, as predecessors to the ubiquitous stone square offering spaces during the subsequent Türk empires; Eregzen et al. 2018. 72. See papers on Rouran archaeology in Odbaatar and Egiimaa 2018; also genetic studies related to the Rouran phenomenon in Csáky et al. 2020 and Gnecchi-Ruscone et al. 2022. 73. Nei Menggu and IISNC 2015a; see Figure 4.6[B]. 74. Two Rouran-era graves, one with a neck plate and one with a suit of iron cuirass armor, were discovered in eastern Mongolia at the site of Öglögchin Khermend in Khentii province; Ölziibayar et al. 2019b. 75. Stark 2021b. Most pectorals have been found in Inner Mongolia or Transbaikal, with only two known sites in Mongolia. 76. Beishi 97, 3221; Weishu 102, 2270. Chinese chroniclers purposefully dressed these events of the fifth century ce in airs of second century bce events of the Xiongnu–Han era; Uchida 1972. 77. For a detailed history of this empire, known as the Northern Wei, see Pearce 2023. 78. Goldin 1999. 79. Although material remains of seals, coins, precious metal luxuries, and palatial architecture all attest to a significant entity in Central Asia during the fifth to sixth centuries, very little is known of the structure and institutions of the so-called Hephthalite polity beyond the names of its kingly rulers. It was called Yeda, Yida, and Hua in Chinese accounts, and even Huna in Sanskrit records of South Asia, but no one knows what they called themselves. See treatise of historical and archaeological records of the Hephthalites in Kurbanov 2013. 80. Numerous historical, as well as some archaeological and even genetic, studies argue that when the Rouran regime later dissolved in the sixth century, many of their hordes
302 Notes migrated west to establish the Avar regime. For genetic studies, see Li et al. 2018 and Csáky et al. 2020. For arguments to the contrary, see Pohl 2015 and Grecchi-Ruscone et al. 2022. 81. de la Vassière 2005; 2015; Kim 2013; 2017, 18–23. 82. Beckwith 2009; Atwood 2012; Brosseder 2018. 83. Di Cosmo 2018; Stark et al. 2021b. 84. Türk elites interred their dead beneath circular stone grave markings, which are frequently indiscernible from Xiongnu circular graves; moreover, Türks often set their graves within Xiongnu burial grounds. 85. Weishu 103, 2301. 86. See Tongdian, especially chapters 194–196. 87. Drompp 2005. 88. See Joseph Yap’s 2009 translations in Wars with the Xiongnu. 89. Disney’s Mulan movie was far from the first vilification of Huns in the modern era. Even war propaganda in the United States during the Great War (World War I) equated the Germans in the conflict with France with Huns preying upon Gaul, with posters of dark, menacing villains that wreak havoc on cities and peoples of civilized worlds. 90. “Yanzhi” was the Xiongnu word for a princess or royal consort wife of the chanyu. In this appellation for Lady Wang (Ning Hu Yanzhi), the Xiongnu are referred to as Hu. 91. Hanshu 94B, 3803; Hou Hanshu 89, 2941. Her formal name was Qiang, though her style name of Zhaojun became far more famous. 92. Shishuo Xinyu 19.2. On the mytho-historical nature of the accounts of persons, each of which is somewhat vague and all of which are placed within particular categories; see Qian 2001 on the legacy of the New Account of Tales of the World. 93. Numerous dramatic plays were written about Wang Zhaojun during the Mongol- Yuan and Chinese-Ming dynasties of the thirteenth to seventeenth centuries; see, e.g., Lei 1996. Highly fictionalized dramatic tales of this historical figure have occurred even in modern China in the form of television mini-series, such as Wang Zhaojun (2007).
Epilogue 1. Favereau 2021. 2. For descriptions of institutions implemented by early Mongol khans, see Allsen 1987.
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Index
For the benefit of digital users, indexed terms that span two pages (e.g., 52–53) may, on occasion, appear on only one of those pages. Figures are indicated by f following the page number Those Who Draw the Bow 引弓之民, xv, 25–51, 53, 64, 65, 78, 89, 90, 114 bowl, 90, 176–77, 185–86, 196 Buddhism, 234–35 Burkhan Tolgoi, 84f, 169f, 192, 193–96, 197, 198, 210, 224–25
Achaemenid, 30–31, 36, 44, 55–56, 60 affiliate entity, 65, 110, 112–14, 127–28, 131–32, 135, 139, 140–41, 142, 143, 157, 160, 163, 200–1, 215, 220 agriculture, or farming, 6, 21, 23, 34, 50, 68–47, 69, 71, 81–82, 89, 96–98, 115, 134, 136–38, 167, 178, 192, 205, 208–9 airag. See lao Alexander the Great 60, 233 Anxi安息. See Parthia archaeogenetics, 22–23, 31, 120, 121–22, 176, 202 astragalus shagai, 1 Attila 237–38
camel, 7, 27–29, 35, 50, 64–65, 67, 74–75, 86, 88, 112, 117, 151, 159, 160, 167, 220, 221f, 228 camp (campsite/ephemeral habitation), 6, 7, 15–17, 21–22, 41, 45–46, 67, 69– 70, 91, 93, 94, 101, 195–96, 197–98 camp community, 7–8, 9 noble/elite camp, xvii, 8, 61, 83, 106–7, 127, 129, 130, 132, 133, 136, 142, 143–44, 151, 154–55, 162, 209, 222, 223 cavalry, mounted warrior, xvi, 8–9, 10, 19, 27, 31, 34–35, 53, 55, 56, 61, 67–68, 70–71, 78, 89, 103, 104–6, 109–10, 116–17, 120, 129, 135, 139, 140, 141, 143, 146, 147f, 150–51, 152, 153, 154, 161, 165, 192–93, 226, 230–31, 234 Chang’an 長安, xvii, 117, 135, 211, 214, 229, 232
Bactria, 36, 115, 124, 134–35, 138, 178, 181–82, 218, 233, 234 Baga Gazaryn Chuluu, 91, 120, 196–97, 200, 210 barley, 69–70, 98, 196 Bayeji 拔也稽, Hu northerner tribe, 225, 235 Bi 比, chanyu. See Sutuhu bow, 2, 27, 29, 31–32, 35, 40, 43, 55, 67, 70–71, 75f, 86, 90, 103, 104–6, 110, 118, 162, 195
355
356 Index Chanyu 單于 (The Magnificent One), title of, xv, 219, 224, 226–28, 230–31, 232, 234, 235 Chengli Gutu 撐犁孤塗 (Heaven’s Son), 57 Southern Chanyu, 216–18, 219, 220–23, 226–28, 230, 231 chariot, 146, 147f, 147–48, 151 Chinese elite chariot, 48, 162, 180, 184–85 Chinggis Khan, 242–23 circular graves, or ring burials, 94, 171f, 176–78, 182–83, 184, 186, 192, 195, 198, 199, 201, 202–3, 205–6, 209–10, 211, 213, 225, 237 cowrie shells, 32, 37, 40, 90, 99, 109–10, 112 belts of, 29–30, 86, 88–89, 104–6, 110, 114, 120 imitations of, 98–99, 107 crops. See grain cup, 36, 80, 83–84, 110, 185–86 Han lacquered ear-cup 耳杯, 185–86, 185f, 187–88, 193–95 Roman glass cup, 176–77, 180 skull cup, xv, 31, 111, 163 Dai Forest 帶林, 3 danghu 當戶 (household administrator), Xiongnu rank, 57–58, 114, 129, 130– 31, 149–50, 156, 165, 242 darugachi, agents of the Mongol regime, 242 decimal system, 55–56, 57–58, 60, 78, 79–80, 95, 100, 167, 192–93, 213, 228, 229, 234, 236, 238, 242 Derestui, 87f, 101–3, 102f, 105f Dingling 丁零, 37, 59, 71, 118, 142, 151– 52, 158, 218, 219, 225, 226 diplomacy, xvii, 35, 46, 52, 61, 63, 84–85, 106–7, 114, 116, 126, 127–28, 136, 139, 141–42, 148, 149–50, 155, 159, 182, 190, 213, 217, 218, 236, 239 Dong Hu 東胡. See Eastern Hu Dunhuang 敦煌, 19, 111, 141, 163–64, 223, 234
Duurlig Nars, 169f, 211–12 dzud, winter disaster, 7, 68, 116, 140, 151–52 Eastern Hu 東胡, 47, 52–53, 55, 59, 66, 71, 85, 109, 110, 111, 218 Egiin Gol Valley, 192–93, 194f, 195–99 Elst Tolgoi, 205, 206, 209, 210 Emperor, title of August Thearch huangdi 皇帝, 229, 230, 232, 235 empire of mobilities, 13, 14–15, 16–17, 125, 234–35 faience, 187, 188, 188f falcon, 25, 26, 31, 43–44, 48–50, 49f, 67, 88, 89, 91, 103, 112, 164, 183 Familial Alliance. See heqin farming. See agriculture felt, 8, 13, 19, 25–26, 31, 43–44, 45–46, 60, 67, 68, 72, 80, 93, 109, 126, 139, 145, 146–47, 173, 175, 180–82, 183, 183f, 189, 190, 211 Fenghou 逢侯, Lord Feng of the Xiongnu, 223 Fergana, 36, 115, 138, 140–41, 160, 166– 67, 218, 234 Five Baits 五餌, 145–48, 184–85 Five Chanyus 五單于, 155–57 Five Hu 五胡, 229 funeral/funerary, or mortuary, 16–17, 25– 26, 32, 37–38, 40, 43, 83–84, 99, 100, 106, 107–8, 113, 171, 176, 177–78, 180, 182–83, 192, 193, 195, 211–12, 216, 222–23, 225 account of Xiongnu burial customs of, 90–91 fur, 25, 34, 37, 40, 43, 44, 71, 72, 80, 90–91, 109, 118, 145, 146–47, 180–81, 183, 219, 226 Fuzhulei 復株纍, chanyu, 164, 165 Gaoche 高車 (High Cart). See Tiele Gaozu 高祖, Han emperor, 60–62, 85, 140 Gekun 鬲昆, 37, 59, 119, 158, 159–60, 226 genetic studies. See archaeogenetics
Index 357 ger. See tent Gol Mod II, 2f, 82f, 176–77, 178, 179, 185, 198–99, 200, 210, 211–12, 243 Goulihu 句犁湖, Xiongnu kings, 77, 140–41, 142 Goulong 句龍, Xiongnu kings, 223 grain, or crops, xvi, 13–14, 22–23, 29–30, 35, 36, 50, 61, 66, 68–70, 71, 72, 81–82, 98, 132, 133, 144, 145, 146–48, 162–63, 178, 190, 196, 205, 216 Great Chiefs (dazhang 大長), hierarchy of, 57–58 Great Wall. See Long Walls gudu 骨都, Xiongnu rank title, 58 Guishuang 貴霜. See Kushan Gushi 姑師, 35, 60, 112–13, 139, 143, 152, 158, 165 Han 漢 capital (see Chang’an) colonies, 63, 71, 116, 117, 127–28, 129, 140, 143, 153, 162, 163–64, 208, 214–15, 218, 222–164, 226, 231, 233 generals, 20, 116, 126–28, 129–31, 132, 133–34, 140–41, 142–44, 145, 161, 163, 218–19 General of Osh (Ershi jiang 貳師將), or Li Guangli, 140–41, 143–44, 145 nobles, 71, 82–83, 126, 143–44, 162, 163, 185–86, 222, 228–29 Heavenly Horses (Tianma天馬), 138, 141 Helian Bobo 赫連勃勃, Tiefu-Xia ruler, 231–32 heqin 和親 (Familial Alliance), 61, 62, 63, 65, 116–17, 126, 127, 133–35, 142–44, 145, 146–47, 150, 151, 152, 153–54, 165, 213 herd-sharing, 7–8, 68–69, 78, 80–81 Hexi 河西 (West of the River) Corridor, 29, 34–35, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 72, 76, 77–78, 104, 106, 111, 112–13, 116, 118–19, 123, 124, 130–32, 134, 135, 136, 139, 140–41, 143, 146, 149–50, 153, 154, 159, 162, 164, 181–82, 186, 203–5, 224, 226, 231–32, 234, 237
horde, or ordo, 12, 13, 94–95, 175 as a sociopolitical unit, 8–9, 23, 74–75 households. See khoton Hu 胡 (northern nomads), 46–47, 50, 53–55, 85, 86, 112, 116, 118, 132, 142, 144, 146, 147, 224, 228–30, 240, 243 Hu cavalry or militia, 142, 161, 214 Hu chiefs or kings, 80, 106, 133, 148, 163 Hu cloth, 67, 126, 189–90 The Hu, rock band, 243 hu 醐 (butter), 8 Hua 華, 29–30 Hudu’ershi 呼都而屍, chanyu, 214, 215–16 Huhanye 呼韓邪, chanyu, xv–xvi, xvii, 154–58, 159, 160–61, 162–64, 165– 66, 167–68, 173, 213–15, 216, 218, 233, 239–40, 241 Huhanye II (see Sutuhu) Hujie 呼揭, 64, 119, 156–57 Hulugu 狐鹿姑, chanyu, 77, 143–44, 145, 148, 153 Hunyu 渾庾, 37, 53–55, 59 Hutuwusi 呼屠吾斯. 155, See also Zhizhi Huyan 呼衍, Xiongnu lineage, 57–58, 173, 212–13 Huyandi 壺衍鞮, chanyu, 84–85, 148, 149–50, 151, 152 Il’movaya pad’, 211–12 Ili, river valley, 36, 111, 124–25, 128–29, 134–35, 136–38, 224, 233 infrastructure, 4, 12, 13, 14–15, 109, 114, 122–23, 144 Ivolga, 96–100, 97f, 118–19 as compared to Derestui, 100–3, 102f Jiankun 堅昆. See Gekun Jiaohe 交合, 112, 113f, 152 Jie 羯. 229, See also Five Hu Jihoushan 稽侯狦, 153, 154. See also Huhanye jin 锦. See multi-colored silk Jinglu 徑路, Xiongnu deity of Heaven, 83, 130, 162 ritual knife, xvi–xvii
358 Index Jiyu 稽鬻, chanyu, 63, 64, 65, 76, 110, 111, 116–17, 218–19 juci 居次, Xiongnu princess, 57–58 Judihou 且鞮侯, chanyu, 77, 142–44, 145 Junchen 軍臣, chanyu, 76, 116–17, 124– 25, 126–27, 128 Juniu 車紐, Goulong king, 223 juqu 且渠, Xiongnu rank, 57–58, 114, 149–50, 153, 157, 231 as ruling Juqu clan of Liang dynasty, 231–32 Jushi 車師. See Gushi Juya 車牙, chanyu. See Appendix Juyan 居延, 19, 132, 140, 186 Kangju 康居, 60, 114–15, 133, 138, 141, 143, 150, 159–61, 167, 182, 216–17, 220, 224, 233 Kazakhstan, 30, 31, 114, 138, 166–67 khan or khaan. See qagan Khangai, mountain range, 103, 120, 129– 30, 154–55, 197, 199, 203, 211, 235 Kherlen, river, 27, 69–48, 133, 173–75, 211–12 khoton or khot-ail, household enclave, 7, 9 Khövsgöl, lake, 197, 198 king, or wang王 name kings 名王, 149–50, 151, 155, 157 Kujula Kadphises, or Qiujiuque, 218 kumiss, fermented horse milk, 8, 131, 138–39. See also lao Kunmo 昆莫, or Kunmi 昆彌, Wusun ruler, 124–25, 128–29, 133, 134–35, 136–39, 151, 158, 165 Kushan, 182, 218, 234–35 labor pools, 6–8, 12, 14, 67–70, 78, 109, 160 lacquer, 48, 146, 176–77, 180, 184–87, 190 Han lacquered ear-cup 耳杯, 185–86, 185f, 187–88, 193–95 Lady Wang. See Wang Zhaojun Lan 蘭, Xiongnu aristocratic lineage, 57–58, 173, 212–13 lao 酪, fermented horse milk, 8, 138–39. See also kumiss
Laoshang 老上 (Old Venerate), chanyu. See Jiyu Left and Right, 3, 57–58, 77–78, 115, 149– 50, 156, 164, 212–13, 220, 228, 234, 235–36, 242 Li Guangli. See Han General of Osh Liang 涼, or Northern Liang, dynasty ruling Hexi, 231–32 Liu 劉, Han royal lineage, 214, 226–29, 231–32 liuli 留迩, ritual spoon, xvi Long city, or Longcheng 籠城/龍城, Xiongnu court capital, 93–95, 127, 211, 218–19 Long Walls, or Great Wall, 15, 65, 117, 118, 126, 127, 140, 164, 165 Loulan 樓蘭, 60, 64, 72, 112, 139, 143 Luandi 攣鞮, royal clan, 57–58, 62–63, 76, 122, 125, 128–29, 141–42, 143, 148–49, 150–51, 155, 156, 164, 167– 68, 173, 212–13, 218, 219, 220, 223, 226–29, 232, 234 Luli 谷蠡, Xiongnu king, 57–58, 76, 128, 133, 148, 151, 155, 156, 157, 164, 165, 167–68, 220, 228 Luoyang 洛陽, 229 –30 maenad, 179–80 Maodun. See Modun Militant Emperor, or Wudi, 127–28, 130, 133–34, 135, 136, 138–39, 140, 141, 142–43, 144, 163–64, 166, 215, 222 millet, xiii–xiv, 6–7, 27–29, 34, 35, 37, 66, 68, 69–70, 72, 98, 144, 159, 178 Lord of Millet Establishment and Distribution, 81–82 mirror, 25, 37, 44 Chinese bronze mirror, 44, 93, 101, 107, 110, 118–19, 120, 121f, 166–67, 176–77, 187, 188, 188f, 193–95, 196 mobile palace. See ordo mobile state, or state of mobilities (xing- guo 行國), 10–11, 13, 34–35, 65, 74, 114, 135, 138, 159, 166. See also empire of mobility
Index 359 mobility, 5, 6, 7, 9–10, 11–12, 15, 16, 17, 22–23, 40–41, 43, 68–69, 70, 75, 81, 88, 144, 192, 207–8, 217, 233, 234 Modun 冒頓, 52–56, 57, 58–60, 61–65, 66, 72, 74, 76–77, 85, 86, 108, 109, 111, 122–23, 125, 134, 140, 150–51, 156, 159, 160, 167–68, 176, 218–19, 222, 226 Mongols, 8, 9, 11, 242–43 mortuary. See funeral/funerary Mulan 木蘭 Disney movie, 17–18, 239 tale of, 239 Nangzhiyasi 囊知牙斯. See Wuzhuliu network economic network, 50, 79, 111 networks analysis, 207–13 network nodes, 8, 9, 13, 15, 16, 17, 35, 36, 51, 80, 94–95, 96, 122–23, 130–31, 175–76, 184, 192, 198–99, 200, 201, 202–3, 207–12, 233 socio-political network, 9, 13, 58, 75, 78, 79–80, 89–90, 101, 103, 108, 125, 190–91, 217, 224 New Dynasty, 213–15, 222 node. See network nodes nomadism, 4, 5–6, 10 Nomadology, 10, 18 Noyon Uul, 177f, 179–82, 181f, 183f, 185f, 210, 211–12 offering. See sacrifice ordo (mobile palace). See horde Ordos, 47, 48–50, 51, 52, 56, 60–61, 76, 77, 88, 106–7, 110, 116, 117, 118–19, 127– 28, 129, 131, 134, 135, 139, 140, 142– 43, 149, 162–63, 215, 216, 219, 220, 222–23, 224, 226–29, 231–32, 235, 237 Orkhon, river, 69–70, 93, 94, 159, 211 Osh, Yuan capital, 140–41 Parthia, 141, 160, 166 participation, 16–17, 23, 75–76, 85, 86, 88–90, 95–96, 103–4, 123, 170, 207 materials of political participation (see political culture materials) Pax Mongolica (Mongol Peace), 242
Pazyryk, 39f cemetery, 40–43, 42f, 44, 91 cultural/political entity of the Altai, 38–46 Persia, 5, 23, 30–31, 36, 55–56, 119, 141, 159, 187, 190 political culture, 23, 85, 89–90, 103, 107–8, 115, 123, 164, 168, 173, 187, 190, 193–95, 201, 207, 224–25, 231, 236, 238 materials of, 75–76, 84–86, 88–89, 103– 4, 108, 119–20, 121–22, 123, 169–70, 207, 225, 233 Pulei 蒲類, 151, 152, 158 Punu 蒲奴, chanyu, 215–16, 217 qaghan, or khan, 230–31, 235–36, 238 Qiang 羌, 111, 153, 218, 225, 226, 228, 229, 231 Qiedihou. See Judihou Qin 秦, 47, 48, 49–50, 52, 53, 55, 59, 60–61, 106, 127–28 Qiujiuque 丘就卻. See Kujula Kadphises Quyi 屈射, or Qushi, 37, 59 ring burials. See circular graves Rizhu日逐, Xiongnu king, 112–13, 143, 153, 155, 158, 164, 220 Servant Commandant of the Rizhu King, 158 Rome, 14, 211 Rouran 柔然, 225, 235–38, 239 ruodi 若鞮, (Xiongnu word for filial), Xiongnu ruler appellation, 164 Sai/Sak 塞. See Saka sacrifice, 177–78, 195 of animals, xv, 25–26, 31, 32, 34, 37, 38–39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 46, 64, 83, 85–86, 90, 99, 107–8, 120–21, 193, 195, 222, 234 in Han rituals, 133, 216, 218–19, 223 of humans, 145, 176 and offering, 8, 25–26, 32, 35, 37, 40, 41, 48, 57, 83, 85–86, 93–94, 99, 100, 101–3, 104, 106, 107–8, 110, 113, 119–20, 130–31, 170–71, 176, 177– 78, 192–95, 222–23
360 Index Saka, 30–31, 36, 37, 48–49, 111, 114, 136– 38, 160, 233 Salkhityn Am, 75, 76, 120–22, 121f satyr, 179–80 Sayan-Altai, region, 27–29, 30–31, 37–38, 45–46, 50, 60–34, 89, 103, 107, 119, 120–21, 176, 201–2, 203–5, 224, 226, 235, 239 Scythian. See Saka seal (animal), 34, 71, 118 seal (mark), 3, 82–83, 162, 165–66, 214, 220, 221f, 225, 228 Shanyu. See Chanyu Shelun 社崙, 225, 235 Shi Le 石勒, ruler of Zhao Northern dynasty, 229–31 Shombuuzyn Belchir, 171f, 187–88, 189, 192, 200, 201–3, 205–6, 224–25 silk, 25, 47, 61, 65, 66, 67, 71–72, 90–91, 123, 126, 136, 144, 145, 162, 163, 165, 168, 180–81, 184, 188–90 embroidered, 44, 65, 148, 162, 180–81, 189 multi-colored (jin 锦), 65, 162, 180–81, 183, 189, 226 raw, 162, 189 Silk Roads, 166, 233 slab graves. See square grave Sogdian, 114, 229, 237 letter, 229 Southern Chanyu 南單于, 216–18, 220–22, 223, 226–28, 230–31 See also Sutuhu, as Bi Southern Chanyu Southern Xiongnu 南匈奴, 216–19, 220–23, 225, 226–29, 232, 237 Souxie 搜諧, chanyu. See Appendix square graves, 32, 33f Square Grave, culture or elites, 32–34, 35, 38–39, 59, 90, 103, 167, 191, 198, 199, 200, 201–2, 205 state. See mobile state or tribute state sun and moon Mongol symbol, 242 Xiongnu beliefs about or worship of, 57, 83, 169–70
Xiongnu symbol, 170f, 170, 171f, 193, 242 surplus, 5, 13–14, 58, 66, 70–71, 115, 123, 145, 190–91 Sutuhu 蘇屠胡, Bi 比 Southern Chanyu, 215–17, 220–22 Takhiltyn Khotgor, 170, 200–5, 210, 211–12 tamga, marking, 2, 5, 15, 81–83, 82f, 107, 147f, 173–74, 174f, 175–76, 175f, 185f, 186, 203–5, 209, 243 Tang 唐, dynasty, 239 Tanshihuai 檀石槐, Xianbei ruler, 223–24, 225–26, 234, 238 tax, 7, 13–14, 66, 68–69, 80–81, 114, 189, 222 tent, 6, 8, 13, 31, 67, 68, 74, 91, 93, 101, 133, 173, 175, 181–82, 211 royal, 8, 85, 134, 138, 183 Tents People, 160 on wheeled carts, 8, 68, 69f those who draw the bow, xv, 30, 38–39, 53, 64, 65, 78, 89, 90, 114 Three Models and Five Baits 三表五餌. See Five Baits Tian Shan 天山 (Heavenly Mountains), 27–29, 31–32, 36, 48–49, 50, 60, 103, 111–12, 114, 118, 119, 124, 151, 154, 158, 160, 203–5, 224, 233, 234 Tiefu 鐵弗, Hu-northerner tribe, 228–29, 231, 235 Tiele 鐵勒, 235, 237 Tongwan cheng 統萬城 (City of Unified Tens of Thousands), 232 Touman. See Tumen tribute, 47, 58–60, 61, 62, 66, 67, 69, 70–71, 80, 109, 110, 111, 112, 116–18, 122, 123, 126, 142, 145, 149–50, 158, 159, 160, 165, 166, 180, 182, 188–90, 213, 214–15, 218, 231 tribute state, 111, 150–51, 152 Tumen 頭曼, chanyu, 55, 57 Tuoba-Xianbei 拓跋鮮卑, 231, 235, 237, 238
Index 361 Tuqi 屠耆 (Xiongnu word for wise), Xiongnu king, 57–58, 63, 76, 110, 112–13, 129, 130, 139–40, 143–44, 148, 149–50, 153, 154–56, 157, 164, 166, 167–68, 220, 228 Türk empire, 4–5, 238, 239 inscriptions, 3 Turpan, or Turfan, 35–36, 46, 50, 60, 112, 115, 150, 152, 158, 165, 231 turquoise, 32, 34–35, 43, 72, 99, 109–10, 120, 167, 168, 169f, 178, 179, 180, 182, 184, 187, 193–95 Uyghur, 239 Wang Mang 王莽, New Dynasty Emperor, 213–14 Wang Zhaojun 王昭君, xvii, 164, 239–40 Wei 魏, Former Wei dynasty, 226–28 Wei 魏, Northern Wei dynasty, 235, 237, 238, 239. See also Tuoba-Xianbei Wenyudi 溫禺鞮, Xiongnu kings, 220, 221f Western Regions (Xiyu 西域), 35–36, 60, 66, 69, 72, 111–14, 116, 118–19, 122, 124–25, 138, 139, 140–41, 143, 151, 152, 156–57, 158, 159, 163, 165–66, 208, 224 Western Regions Protectorate, Han colonial center, 158, 161 wheat, 27–29, 35, 66, 69–70, 72, 98, 196 winter disaster. See dzud Wise king. See Tuqi Woyanqudi 握衍朐鞮, chanyu, 150, 153– 55, 156–57, 158 writing, 3–4, 15, 80–83 Wuchanmu 烏禪幕, western realms kingdom, 143, 153, 154, 155 Wudadihou 烏達鞮侯, chanyu, 215–16 Wudi 武帝, Han emperor. See Militant Emperor Wuhuan 烏桓, 59, 110, 150–52, 154, 155, 165–66, 212, 214, 215–16, 218, 225, 228–29
Wulei 烏累, chanyu. See Appendix Wushilu 烏師廬, also called Boy Chanyu, 139–41 Wusun 烏孫, 60, 64, 111, 114, 124–25, 126, 127, 128–29, 134–35, 136–39, 141–42, 143, 148, 150–52, 155, 158, 159–60, 165–66, 167, 218, 224, 225, 233 Wuwei 烏維, chanyu, 76, 134–35, 138–40, 142, 153 wuzhu 五銖, Han coin, 86, 88–89, 91, 99, 104–6, 107, 110, 119, 142, 148, 162, 184, 196 Wuzhuliu 烏珠留, chanyu, 164, 165–66, 213–14, 215–16 Xia 夏 Great Xia of Bactria, 134–35 Northern dynasty, 231–32 (see also Tiefu) Xian 鹹. See Wulei Chanyu Xianbei 鮮卑, 59, 212, 215, 216–17, 218, 219, 223–24, 225–29, 230–31, 232, 233–34, 236 See also qaghan, Xianbei title; Tuoba-Xianbei Xianxianchan 先賢撣, 143, 153 Xigoupan 西溝盤, 106–7, 222 Xihou 翕侯 or 翖侯 (Lords of Plumes in Unison). See Yabgu Xin 新. See New Dynasty Xin of Hann 韩信, 61 xingguo 行國 (state of mobilities), 10, 13. See also empire of mobilities Xiongnu 匈奴 name, origin and meaning, 62–63 See also Southern Xiongnu Xuan 宣, Han emperor, 153–54, 157, 162, 165–66 Xubu 須卜, Xiongnu lineage, 57–58, 149, 173, 212–13, 226 Xubu Chanyu, 226–28 Xuliandi 虛連題. See Luandi Xulüquanqu 虛閭權渠, chanyu, 150, 151–55
362 Index Yabgu, Central Asian lords, 124, 136–38, 151, 165, 181–82, 216–17, 218, 233, 234 yak, 7, 27, 87f, 88, 89, 122, 168, 178–79, 183, 183f yanzhi 閼氏, Xiongnu consort wife, 57–58, 133, 239–40 Yichixia 伊稚斜, chanyu, 76, 124–25, 128– 31, 132, 133–34, 138, 145 Yili. See Ili Youliu 優留, chanyu, 217, 218 Yu 輿. See Hudu’ershi Yuan, the Great Yuan 大宛, 133, 138, 140– 41, 160 Yuan 元, Han emperor, 163 Youchujian 於除鞬, chanyu. See Appendix Yudan 於單, chanyu, 76, 128–29 Yuezhi 月氏, xvi–xvii, 34–35, 52, 53, 55, 59, 60, 64, 65, 72, 77, 111, 114, 120,
124–25, 132, 134–35, 136–38, 160, 181–82, 216–17, 218, 233, 234 Yujian 奧鞬 or 薁鞬, 114, 115, 150, 154, 155, 156–57, 159, 220 Yujiulü 郁久閭, clan, 235. See also Shelun yurt. See tent Yuwen 宇文, northerner tribe, 230 Zhang Qian 張騫, 124–25, 132, 166 Zhao 昭, Han emperor, 151 Zhao 趙, Chinese kingdom, 47, 48–50, 106, 117 Zhao 趙, Northern dynasty, 229–31. See also Shi Le Zhao Xin 趙信, Xiongnu defector general, 129–30, 133–34 Zhi 知, chanyu. See Wuzhuliu Zhizhi 郅支, chanyu, or Hutuwusi, 157–61, 163, 166, 182, 218, 226, 232