royal graves of Noyan Uul not a single stirrup. Indeed, as Od e-mailed me, ‘We excavating a lot of graves, unfortunately we couldn’t find more [stirrups].’ This is all very strange. Perhaps the western graves were made later, when the Xiongnu had been defeated and were on the move westwards? In which case, are we to assume that the Xiongnu, iron-workers and horse-riders par excellence , had no stirrups when they were powerful, yet had them when they were not? And, if they had them at all, why did the idea not diffuse instantly to everyone else?
Including, of course, the Huns, who should have known about and used the stirrup, whether or not they were Xiongnu originally. Yet from Hun archaeological finds, which have produced bits, saddles and bridle ornaments, we have not a single stirrup. Nor is there any mention of them in the (admittedly inexpert) Latin and Greek sources. Yes, Huns could have ridden without stirrups, or used rope or cloth ones, but why, when they had metalworkers for arrowpoints and swords and cooking-pots, would they reject iron stirrups? The mystery remains.
In any event, by about AD 350 the pastoral nomads of Inner Asia had an advantage over infantry, heavy cavalry and chariots. The Huns had the hardware for conquest, and could operate summer or winter, each warrior supplied with two or three remounts, each carrying his bow as his prize possession, along with dozens of arrows and arrowheads for hunting and fighting, each ready to protect wives, children and parents in wagons. They were something new in history, something with potential beyond the Xiongnu: a juggernaut that could live off the land if necessary, or by pillage. Pillage was a lot easier. Like sharks, they had become expert predators, honed to fitness by constant movement, adapted to roam the inland sea of grass, blotting up lesser tribes, until they emerged from the unknown and forced themselves onto the consciousness of the sophisticated, urbanized, oh-so-civilized Europeans. Our first view of the Huns, therefore, is from outside, and as full of loathing, prejudice and error as you might imagine.
The Greeks were appalled by the barbarian menace from the steppes, exemplified by the Scythians. The very word ‘barbarian’, said to derive from the incomprehensible bar-bar-bar noises these outsiders made in lieu of language, summarized a prejudice, an expression of xenophobia that buttressed the Greeks’ own sense of identity and self-worth. It was an idea that lumped all non-Greeks together in undifferentiated otherness, people who were cruel, stupid, unrefined and oppressed, and who, of all things, gave power to women. Euripides personified barbarism in Medea,who supposedly came from the far side of the Black Sea: a domineering, passionate, child-murdering witch. Much of this was self-serving nonsense, for the Scythians developed a sophisticated, complex culture that lasted for some 700 years.
Rome inherited the same prejudices, and took action accordingly. The whole length of the imperial frontier, over 4,000 miles, was secured by roads, walls, towers, forts and ditches, from the Atlantic coast of Africa, up the Middle East, down the Euphrates, back to the Black Sea and beyond. In western Europe, Rome had the benefit of two great rivers, the Rhine and the Danube, which virtually bisect the continent from north-west to south-east. From the early years of the first millennium, the two rivers became the Roman equivalent of the Great Wall, with Dacia the Roman equivalent of the Ordos, the borderland sought by the dominant culture as a buffer zone, but from which it had been driven by the barbarians. Europe’s geography was less convenient than China’s. Rhine and Danube almost join, but their upper reaches form a right-angle north of the Alps which is hard to defend. As the empire grew stronger, successive emperors cut the corner with forts, towers and eventually a stone wall that ran for almost 500 kilometres across southern
Including, of course, the Huns, who should have known about and used the stirrup, whether or not they were Xiongnu originally. Yet from Hun archaeological finds, which have produced bits, saddles and bridle ornaments, we have not a single stirrup. Nor is there any mention of them in the (admittedly inexpert) Latin and Greek sources. Yes, Huns could have ridden without stirrups, or used rope or cloth ones, but why, when they had metalworkers for arrowpoints and swords and cooking-pots, would they reject iron stirrups? The mystery remains.
In any event, by about AD 350 the pastoral nomads of Inner Asia had an advantage over infantry, heavy cavalry and chariots. The Huns had the hardware for conquest, and could operate summer or winter, each warrior supplied with two or three remounts, each carrying his bow as his prize possession, along with dozens of arrows and arrowheads for hunting and fighting, each ready to protect wives, children and parents in wagons. They were something new in history, something with potential beyond the Xiongnu: a juggernaut that could live off the land if necessary, or by pillage. Pillage was a lot easier. Like sharks, they had become expert predators, honed to fitness by constant movement, adapted to roam the inland sea of grass, blotting up lesser tribes, until they emerged from the unknown and forced themselves onto the consciousness of the sophisticated, urbanized, oh-so-civilized Europeans. Our first view of the Huns, therefore, is from outside, and as full of loathing, prejudice and error as you might imagine.
The Greeks were appalled by the barbarian menace from the steppes, exemplified by the Scythians. The very word ‘barbarian’, said to derive from the incomprehensible bar-bar-bar noises these outsiders made in lieu of language, summarized a prejudice, an expression of xenophobia that buttressed the Greeks’ own sense of identity and self-worth. It was an idea that lumped all non-Greeks together in undifferentiated otherness, people who were cruel, stupid, unrefined and oppressed, and who, of all things, gave power to women. Euripides personified barbarism in Medea,who supposedly came from the far side of the Black Sea: a domineering, passionate, child-murdering witch. Much of this was self-serving nonsense, for the Scythians developed a sophisticated, complex culture that lasted for some 700 years.
Rome inherited the same prejudices, and took action accordingly. The whole length of the imperial frontier, over 4,000 miles, was secured by roads, walls, towers, forts and ditches, from the Atlantic coast of Africa, up the Middle East, down the Euphrates, back to the Black Sea and beyond. In western Europe, Rome had the benefit of two great rivers, the Rhine and the Danube, which virtually bisect the continent from north-west to south-east. From the early years of the first millennium, the two rivers became the Roman equivalent of the Great Wall, with Dacia the Roman equivalent of the Ordos, the borderland sought by the dominant culture as a buffer zone, but from which it had been driven by the barbarians. Europe’s geography was less convenient than China’s. Rhine and Danube almost join, but their upper reaches form a right-angle north of the Alps which is hard to defend. As the empire grew stronger, successive emperors cut the corner with forts, towers and eventually a stone wall that ran for almost 500 kilometres across southern
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