Space Lawyers: A Collaborative Collection
Page 25
“Today,” he continued, a great exaltation transfiguring the strained features, “I have received news of the happiest augury.”
All eyes turned curiously, wonderingly to the bowed figure of the Ming.
“And now this priest, this servant of the Mings, shall receive his reward for the great service he has done me. Let it not be said that T’ai Tsung does not show liberality.
“O priest of the Mings, here are caskets of jewels, of golden coins and ornaments. These are yours for your tale. Take them!”
The shrunken face lit up with a covetous leer as it beheld the great treasure. “Lord of Lords,” he cackled, “for your munificence to this poor unworthy creature your name shall resound through the ages.” A murmur passed through the assemblage. Glorious indeed must have been the news borne by the ancient to have merited such largess!
The Emperor gazed at the old man strangely. “You have your reward. You have well earned it. And now,” a peculiar note crept into the passionless tones, “lest you disclose the secret you have unfolded to me, you must—die!”
As the fatal words penetrated the old man’s consciousness, the smirk of satisfied greed gave way to deathly terror. “Mercy!” he gasped.
At an imperceptible gesture from the Emperor, one of the giant slaves stepped forward. The huge sword curved flashing through the air. The skull-like head bounded across the hall; the shrunken bloodless body collapsed gently into a shapeless mass.
The Manchu nobles murmured audible delight. They could not grasp the full purport of the drama, but the sight of an enemy’s discomfiture was pleasing to robust tastes.
Once more T’ai Tsung spoke. “Manchus!” his great voice vibrated. “Behold my son, Shun Chih!” He raised the little boy high in his arms. “Do you swear to hold him as your ruler, and his son after him, on my death?”
Instantly the great enclosure was filled with leaping swords, while a thousand lusty voices swelled the great shout. “We do, we do. Long live T’ai Tsung, and Shun Chih, after him!”
The Emperor waited for the clamor to subside, his hawk face cold and impassive as ever. His thoughts were his own.
“You have sworn. On my death, Shun Chih is to be Emperor of Chung Kuo, and I, T’ai Tsung, shall sire a mighty dynasty. So is it written.” A moment’s silence. The fierce face of the Khan was convulsed with some inward strife. He hesitated. The nobles leaned forward. They sensed impending drama. They saw their Lord gather himself together with a mighty effort. Turning to the child, he thrust out his hand dramatically. “Behold, O nobles of the Chin Tatars, your Emperor. Protect and follow him! The prophecy is fulfilled!”
What happened then occurred with such lightning rapidity that no two of the startled onlookers could ever afterward agree on the details.
A sword flashed out of nowhere into T’ai Tsung’s hand. Before anyone could stop him, it had sunk deep into his vitals. As the dark blood welled out, the Emperor sank to the ground, a smile of contentment on his placid face.
Instantly the tent was a turmoil of rushing, shouting men, but above the clamor was heard the thin piercing shriek of the little boy, Shun Chih. “Father! Father!”
A child in arms was Emperor of the Middle Kingdom!
Long years afterward, Mangu, old and bent and hoar, General of Ten Thousand, told his son the story as he reverently placed the soft green Jade in his hand. “Ah, that was a man—our Emperor. There is not his like on earth today.” And he sighed wistfully.
The End