They had some long discussions on the differences between Eastern and Western methods of waging war; and his attitude, unlike Bei W’ih’s, was not contemptuous but curious. If there was anything at all to be gleaned which might improve the effectiveness of the forces of the Celestial One, he was determined to ferret it out.
Simon said: “But you don’t need new weapons, do you, when you have the dragons?”
He no longer called him Highness when they were alone. The General shook his head, brandishing his beard.
“No superiority over the enemy is ever enough. For want of a dagger, an empire may be lost.”
“We have a similar saying, about a horseshoe nail. But even without the dragons, your weapons are so much better than those in the West. They have nothing like your cannons and fire darts.” A thought struck him. “You also have steam wagons, which they do not. Have you never thought of using them in battle?”
The general shook his head dismissively. “They might be of use if battles took place in cities or along roads. But they are fought on rough ground, where wagons cannot go.”
“They could be made to.”
“How?”
Simon began outlining the principle of caterpillar traction. He didn’t find it easy, especially in Chinese, but the General was quick on the uptake. He said, when he had finally grasped the idea: “Have you seen such wagons, in the West?”
Simon shook his head, crossing his fingers.
“So, you are an inventor! I was right to keep you with me, young Lomani. It may be you will do good service to the Emperor.”
His tone was warmly admiring. Simon had a moment of embarrassment about accepting praise, but decided he had little choice. In fact, he might as well go the whole hog and invent the tank completely.
“You could also put plates of steel around the wagon, and on top of it . . .”
• • •
Following this conversation, Simon’s status rose considerably. He was provided with a team of Chinese craftsmen, who were both attentive and diligent. Too attentive in some ways. They put intelligent and awkward questions, and he was soon made aware of the difference between a general idea, in his case vaguely remembered, and its specific applications.
He knew that the basis of caterpillar traction was that you had two continuous tracks, made up of individual plates joined together to form a pair of endless chains encircling wheels on either side of the vehicle. Given the relatively advanced stage of Chinese metallurgy, and the high level of local craftsmanship, this did not prove difficult to achieve. The prototype tank which was produced, however, was a total flop: it clanked and hissed but did not move an inch.
Fortunately the Chinese engineers were brighter than he was in analysing the problem. They were using the same kind of steam engine as powered the steam wagons. They worked it out that the inertia to be overcome to move a tracked vehicle was inevitably greater than in the case of a vehicle moving on wheels and on a reasonably level surface. A higher pressure of steam, they calculated, was the answer. Several exploded boilers later, they achieved that, and the tank rolled.
It did not roll far, coming to a halt on the first attempt to climb rising ground. Here again Simon’s bafflement was compensated for by the resourcefulness of his artificers. They worked out the answer, which was to have the tracks so mounted that the front ends rose and fell independently of one another. The tank climbed a hill to the accompaniment of cheers and clapping. The applause was directed towards Simon, and he acknowledged it modestly. Honour, in the Chinese system, clearly went to the boss man, whoever put the real work in. On reflection, he decided that was not so very different from the system in the world he had grown up in. Wherever you were, if you got lucky, you got lucky. No point in arguing about that.
Summer passed into autumn, the days shortening and occasional mornings sharp with frost. At intervals of approximately two weeks, a troop of horsemen brought a courier from the imperial court: he stayed overnight and the following day returned to Li Nan with the General’s current report. Although the General was well supplied with scribes, he wrote the reports himself, filling a scroll with elegant characters. He was extremely proud of his calligraphy.
The General told Simon, when the tank was finally working properly, that he had reported this remarkable achievement to the Celestial One. He also hinted at the possibility of an imperial reward to the inventor, and that the Emperor’s bounty could be generous. Having decided to accept anything that came his way, Simon awaited the next arrival of the courier with interest. It also occurred to him that if the reports actually got to the Emperor, instead of being picked up by the Lord Chancellor or the Dowager Empress, he might get some personal message from Cho-tsing. He was bound to identify this Si Mun with the one who had for a time been his companion.
The moon had been new for the last visit from the courier, so his return was expected at the full. When that passed and the moon was five days into the wane, it was obvious something was wrong. The most likely explanation, in the General’s view, was that the troop had been attacked by bandits. It was extremely rare for bandits to have the temerity to assail those who carried the Emperor’s banner, but unfortunately not completely unknown. He recalled an instance from his own early days as a soldier; he had been part of the force which traced the miscreants to their mountain lair and slaughtered them to a man.
Simon asked: “Will you be sending a party out from here?”
The General looked slightly shocked. “To anticipate the wishes of the Son of Heaven would be almost as improper as disobeying them. A report will have gone back to Li Nan from one of the staging posts. Orders will be sent.”
He would never, Simon thought, be able to fathom the intricacies of Chinese etiquette, either military or civil. Changing the subject, he reported that the tank was ready for further trials. They went on horseback to the spot, farther up the valley, where the workshop had been set up. It was a winter morning, with snow blurring the outlines of the surrounding hills and a few specks drifting down from a sullen sky.
The new trials were on the tank’s offensive possibilities. It was manned by soldiers who tried out a variety of weapons—muskets and fire arrows and even a small cannon—as the tank rolled along. They were aiming at targets set on the hillside, and the result was a fiasco: not one was hit, and the results were completely erratic. What was needed, Simon realized, was to have the weapons mounted, with the mounting coupled to an aiming device which would take account of the tank’s irregular motion. He wondered if his Chinese engineers would come up with something; he wasn’t hopeful about his own prospects of doing so.
The General did not seem too discouraged by the trial; like most Chinese, he was impressed by noise, and the tank—even without accurate firepower—was satisfyingly noisy. He was in good spirits as they prepared to remount to ride back to the main camp. It was at this point that Simon noticed a black dot against the snow at the far end of the pass, and drew the General’s attention to it. It soon resolved itself into a mounted figure. A man on horseback must be of the gentry, and a solitary rider was unusual. They reined in their horses and waited.
As he got nearer, Simon recognized the horseman as a young officer who was second in command of the courier’s troop. His horse looked dead beat, and so did he. His face was grey with more than just exhaustion.
The General spoke calmly, but with an underlying grimness: “What news, from the Court of Heaven?”
The man was trembling. “Nothing good, Lord General. Disaster. Death. Destruction.”
• • •
A second messenger, travelling at a more leisurely pace and accompanied by the customary troop of horsemen, arrived some days later. He presented the General with a silk scroll, yellow-edged to certify it as emanating from the Son of Heaven.
The message it brought was concise and clear. The Emperor Yuan Chu sent greetings to his loyal general. A new age had dawned which would bring peace, happiness, and prosperity to the Middle Kingd
om. The Son of Heaven commanded his loyal servant to return to Li Nan, where he would receive due reward for his exploits against the northern barbarians, and advice as to future conduct. There should be no delay in the performance of this duty.
So the Lord Chancellor had finally pulled off a coup, Simon thought. Taking tea with the General, he said: “What will you do, sire?”
“The faintest breath from the Son of Heaven is a tempest no ordinary mortal can withstand or should wish to.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“A humble servant such as I must do his master’s bidding, even though he may suspect that the reward he is promised will be that the axeman rather than the torturer should end his life. I command the army of the north, the most powerful army of the Middle Kingdom. No emperor dare risk its loyalty.”
Simon was silent. He knew about Chinese fatalism, but this was ridiculous.
The General went on: “But a wise servant makes sure he knows who his master is. The message is written on yellow-bordered silk and carries the imperial seal. But silks and seals have fallen into unworthy hands before now. For Yuan Chu to have become the Son of Heaven, Cho-tsing must first have gone to join his ancestors.”
“Do you think he is dead?”
“Those who brought the scroll say he is. But there is an ancient proverb which says that loudly crying the tiger’s death does not kill the tiger.”
Simon thought of the boy lying in the sun beside the jade-rimmed swimming pool, playing with the chattering monkeys. What had become of them, he wondered? He asked, hoping for reassurance: “He might have escaped?”
“All I know is that I do not know that he is dead. And unless Yuan Chu sends me his head, I shall not choose to believe it. And even if the head is sent, perhaps I shall not recognize it. I swore loyalty to Cho-tsing, and in the spring I shall take my army south, to find him. Or perhaps avenge him.”
• • •
During the winter, recruiting parties were sent out, and reinforcements arrived in numbers which surprised Simon until he realized the newcomers were collecting substantial enlistment bonuses. It appeared that for years the General had been building up a contingency fund out of military budget surpluses, and Simon wondered if he had perhaps all along been contemplating the possibility of some independent action. He did not think it wise to put the question, but the General provided the hint of an answer one day when they were watching the recruits being drilled.
“They are clumsy,” he said, “but they will learn. My officers, who have been well trained for this, will teach them. An army requires three things, Si Mun: good food, good boots, good discipline. With them, we shall win our battle in the spring.”
He paused for some moments before continuing.
“And then, if we do not find Cho-tsing living, I shall of necessity be the new Son of Heaven. That is not of my seeking. I would have been content to grow old in the Emperor’s service and retire at last to some small mansion with a garden, a fish pond, views of lake and mountain. Instead I shall live in the great palace at Li Nan, surrounded by courtiers and slaves, by concubines and eunuchs, by liars and flatterers. Will you stay with me there, Si Mun, so that I may have one honest man at my side?”
Simon said warily: “I’m not sure I’d be of much use.”
“An honest man no use?” The General smiled. “But you are wise to hesitate. A tyrant may think he wants honest advice, but he lies to himself in thinking it. And the Son of Heaven, providing he rules at all, must be a tyrant whether he wills it or not. Celebrate my victory with me in the Crimson Palace; then take your booty back to your Lomani land. Or else one day it may be you who begs the favour of an axeman rather than a torturer.”
He smiled again, but the smile was as wintry as the frozen landscape about them. Although he had grown quite to like him, Simon decided that he had just been given very good advice.
• • •
Bei W’ih rejoined them a few days before the army began its march south. He said to Simon: “The general ill sometimes confers benefit on the individual—we meet again much sooner than expected. And I hear good report of you and your ironclad steam wagons which crawl like serpents. It is strange, though. Had I been asked which might prove an inventor, it would not have been you I proposed but your friend, B’lad.”
“Is there any news of him?”
“No news of B’lad. But Bei Pen sends you greetings.”
As he said that, Simon was aware of a tingling warmth, a small exploding shock inside his head, greetings not spoken but communicated, mind to mind. It gave him a feeling of exhilaration, mixed with fear. The possibility of Bei Pen making mental contact, at this distance and after such a time, had never occurred to him. He jerked his head, shaking it from him, and asked: “Are your dragons prepared to fly?”
Bei W’ih smiled comfortably; he had put on weight during the winter.
“They will fly when the time is ripe.”
• • •
They travelled south as the year brightened, going by easy stages, with the three tanks which had been completed hissing and clanking in the van. They broke down from time to time, but the Chinese manning them were skilled at getting them back into working order. The aiming problem had not been solved, so they had been fitted with catapults which would hurl grenades ahead of them, scattering indiscriminate destruction. In any case, Simon thought, it was the psychological effect of their appearance—as in the case of the elephants Hannibal put into the fighting line against the Romans—which would be most important. They certainly aroused wonder and admiration in the villages and towns through which the army passed.
The populace seemed to be firmly on the General’s side, greeting the army with cheers and flowers. They were fortunate with the weather, too; apart from a couple of days of squally rain, it stayed fine. And with recruits continuing to flock in, their progress came to resemble a victory tour. When they pitched camp fifteen miles from Li Nan without having encountered any opposition, Simon speculated on the possibility of Yuan Chu abandoning the capital and fleeing south. But the General dismissed it.
“To yield the Crimson Palace would be to yield all. He must fight. But he has left it too late. Now he must come to us here, in a valley where we hold the western ground and where the wind, at this time of year, is from the west. The dragons will fly strongly above us.”
“But in that case might he not just wait in Li Nan? We couldn’t stay here indefinitely.”
“With an enemy so close to the city, he cannot wait. He would lose dignity beyond endurance. And more and more would abandon him and come to us. He will march soon. Within ten days.”
Over the next few days, having time on his hands, Simon explored the area surrounding the camp. In particular, he returned to a village they had just passed through, where they had been greeted with even more enthusiasm than usual. He was recognized as the foreigner who had ridden at the General’s side, and made much of. The headman of the village invited him to dinner in his house, and dainties were pressed on him. This was especially pleasant since a lot of the pressing was done by the headman’s three teenage daughters.
Simon found himself particularly attracted by the middle one, a tall slender girl called Ki Ti. She was the least pretty and the most reserved, but she had a look at once grave and warm, and haunting eyes. On his third visit to the house, with her sisters temporarily out of earshot, her reserve melted a little. She asked him if he would live in Li Nan after the battle, at the court of the new emperor. He said: “For a time, perhaps. Will you come and visit me there?”
She smiled, shaking her head. She had never travelled farther than another village, three miles away. And no village girl would dare enter the precinct of the Son of Heaven.
“Then I will come back here to visit you.”
She shook her head at that, too. He would have insisted, but her sisters returned, giggling, and the moment passed. In a way, he was glad of it. He liked her, but he doubted the reliability of his promise. There
would be too many other things to do for him to be serious about coming back here. Finding Brad, for one.
• • •
Next day, the General’s scouts reported an army leaving Li Nan, and the following morning it was encamped at the valley’s eastern end. Simon still found it difficult to believe that the enemy was preparing to launch an attack; they knew even better than the barbarians the power of the dragons of Bei-Kun. But in early afternoon, they came on.
There was the ritual exchange of artillery fire, in which honours seemed fairly even and casualties relatively light. In the succeeding lull, the General said: “Now, Si Mun, we will have your crawling wagons.”
The tanks advanced through gaps purposely left in the advance ranks of the army. They looked very impressive, the din of their progress accentuated by the silence which had fallen on the field of battle. It must be quite alarming, Simon thought, to encounter them for the first time. He felt a swell of pride in his own achievement.
At that point, one of the tanks gasped to a halt as it reached the edge of no-man’s-land. Halfway across, a second followed suit. That one at least began hurling its grenades at the enemy lines, but the spectacle of two monsters out of the three immobilized clearly extinguished any fear that might have been building up in the ranks of Yuan Chu’s men and replaced it with quickly burgeoning confidence. They advanced with a roar, swarming over and bringing to a halt the last tank, and coming on to charge the General’s front line.
The reversal had taken place with stunning speed. Simon said: “I’m sorry.”
He and the general were standing on a rise of ground which gave a good view of the field. The General shrugged. “It is not important. The dragons are ready to fly.”
The kites were low in the sky, but climbed rapidly. The General’s luck was holding, Simon thought with relief: although there was a prevailing wind, it might have failed them today, but in fact seemed stronger than usual. He heard a great shout of satisfaction from their own ranks, cries of what sounded like dismay from the others. Now, for both sides, the kites would be starting to turn into dragons—dragons sweeping in disdainful flight above the puny earthbound creatures below. The miracle was happening again; Simon felt he was almost on the verge of seeing it himself. Relentlessly the dragons came on, soaring and swooping in their dance of pomp and power.
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