The old man sighed. “Back in the time of Genghis Khan, that’s when the Mongols really learned from wolves. Every tribe came together, like spokes on a wheel, or a quiver of arrows. Their numbers were small, but they had considerable power, and every one of them would have gladly given up his life for their mother, the grassland. How else were they able to conquer half the world? Our downfall came when we lost that sense of unity. Now it’s tribe against tribe, individual arrows fired in anger, but easily deflected and broken. Wolves have it all over people. We can learn from their tactics in battle, but the way they stick together seems to elude us. For hundreds of years we’ve tried, but we still haven’t mastered it. But that’s enough-just talking about it is painful.”
Chen looked out over the breathtakingly beautiful swan lake and was lost in thought.
The old man wrapped the meat from the gazelle in its skin and stuffed it into a pair of gunnysacks. After Chen got the horses saddled, the two older men each threw one of the bags over the rump of his horse and secured it behind the saddle.
The three horses galloped off toward brigade headquarters.
17
The final disposition of the case involving the warhorse massacre came down from higher authorities. A major administrative demerit was recorded for Uljii, who was responsible for all production; he was dismissed from the three-in-one leadership body and was to be sent down to a grassroots unit to toughen himself up through manual labor. Similar demerits were also recorded for the herders- Batu, Laasurung, and the two others-and Batu was replaced as militia company commander. In addition, Bao Shungui, who had by then returned to civilian life, was made head of the leadership body and would be in charge of all revolutionary activities and production.
Bao Shungui and Zhang Jiyuan accompanied Uljii to the livestock brigade. Prior to the Cultural Revolution, Uljii had made his office in the livestock brigade or the livestock section. He kept his all-season deel and boots at the livestock brigade, where they were cleaned and tended by women who lived in yurts there. He was used to spending time at the grass roots whether he was sent there or not, doing whatever had to be done, whether it was his job to do or not, his prestige and influence unaffected by this development. But the journey this time proceeded at half the normal speed. He rode an aging white horse suffering from the late-spring cold and, since it was still shedding its coat, it looked like an old man wearing a padded jacket at the beginning of summer.
Zhang wanted to give Uljii his fast horse, but Uljii refused to take it and urged Zhang to let his horse run instead of wasting time plodding alongside him. Zhang had come to the brigade headquarters for batteries to take back to the horse herders, and when he met the two leaders, one current, one former, he decided to see Uljii on the road. He felt better when he heard that Uljii would be staying in Bilgee’s yurt.
Bao Shungui was riding Uljii’s special horse, a yellow skewbald with a velvety, high-gloss coat. Bao was frequently forced to rein it in to stay close to Uljii; it chomped at the bit, unused to its new rider, who kept burying his heels in its sides. From time to time it slowed down to nudge its former owner’s knee with its nose and whinny sadly.
“I did the best I could, Uljii,” Bao said, “to keep you in the leadership group. I don’t know anything about raising livestock. I’ve spent my life in farming villages. But my superiors have assigned me the responsibility over this big pasture, though I’m not sure I’m up to the job.”
Uljii’s forehead was beaded with sweat over the need to constantly spur his horse to keep moving. Riding an old horse is hard on the rider and on the horse; Zhang used his whip on Uljii’s horse to help out, but Uljii reached out and stroked the animal’s head to keep it calm. “They were fair,” Uljii said, “calling it a production issue and not a political problem. The incident had a wide-ranging impact, and if they hadn’t punished me, there’d have been hell to pay in other quarters.”
“I’ve been out here almost a year,” Bao said, “and I can say that the pasture is a lot harder to manage than a farming community. Another major incident or two, and I won’t be running the show for long… Some people wanted you to be sent to the Capital Construction Brigade, but I insisted that you be sent to the Second Production Brigade. With your knowledge of raising livestock, I’ll breathe easier knowing you’re staying with Bilgee. That way, if anything I can’t handle comes up, I’ll look to you for answers.”
Uljii’s face brightened. “Has the revolutionary committee approved the move of the Second Brigade to the new grazing land?”
“Yes, and brigade headquarters has ordered me to see that it’s done, with Bilgee in charge of the move itself. He’ll decide when to move, how to set up the headquarters, and assign sectors. There were objections: too far, too many wolves, too many mosquitoes, no facilities; if something goes wrong, I’ll be responsible. Which is why I’ve decided to go there with you. I have to take a capital construction unit along to build a medicinal pool, a storage facility for the wool, a temporary headquarters and clinic, and to lay some roads through the mountains.”
Uljii had a glazed look, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
“You’ll get the credit for this,” Bao said. “For your vision. There isn’t enough beef or pork for the needs of the country, so the government has increased our quota. All the brigades are complaining they’re short of grazing land, and no one will be able to fill the new quotas without opening up new land.”
“The lambs are still too young,” Uljii said. “They won’t be ready to move to the new grazing land for a while. What are your plans for the next few days?”
“I’m going to select the best hunters for a wolf team,” he said candidly, “and start sharpshooting training. I’ve already requested an increased supply of ammunition. I won’t rest until I’ve relieved the Olonbulag of the wolf scourge. I recently read a report of pasture losses over the past decade. Over half were attributed to wolves, more than blizzards, drought, or disease combined. Increasing the livestock population requires two conditions: eliminate the wolves and open new grazing land.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Uljii said. “Yes, the wolves are responsible for losses, but if you wipe them out, the absence of those losses will prove catastrophic.”
Bao looked up at the sky. “I’ve heard people say that you and Bilgee and some of the older herdsmen always take the side of the wolves. Go ahead, say what you want to say, you needn’t worry… ”
Uljii cleared his throat. “Worry? I worry about the grassland. I can’t be the one to see the land our ancestors passed down to us destroyed. I’ve been telling people about the wolves for many years, and I’m not going to stop now… I took on the responsibility for the grassland more than a decade ago, and I’ve seen the livestock population more than double. We supply twice as many cows and sheep as other pastures. Our most important responsibility has been to protect the grassland, since it’s the foundation of livestock raising. It’s a difficult task that requires keeping the population of grazing animals in check, especially the horses. Cows and sheep are ruminants, so they don’t graze at night. But horses never stop eating-they have to eat in order to stay fat and healthy-which means they never stop shitting either. It takes twenty acres to feed a sheep for one year, but two hundred for a horse. And their hooves are murder on the grassland. A herd can be in one place for a couple of weeks and leave it in ruins, nothing but sand. It rains a lot in the summer, so the grass grows fast, but for the rest of the year we have to move the livestock every month or so to keep the animals from eating every blade of grass in sight. Cows are also hard on the grassland. The biggest problem with them is that they come home every night, and not when they feel like it individually, but always together. Their weight and their heavy hooves tear up the ground, and if you don’t move often, the area around the yurts for a mile or more winds up as nothing but sandy ruts. Add sheep to the mix, and you have to move your base every couple of months or nothing will grow within a mile of the base camp. We live as nomads in order to give the land a chance to breathe. Heavy hooves and overpopulation are its greatest enemies.”