The Red Plains (The Forbidden List Book 3)

by G R Matthews

  “I don’t care whether or not we are upsetting the merchants,” Haung snapped, stabbing a finger at the administrator in front of him. “I want those houses down and the rubble available for my engineers. If they have a problem then tell them to come and talk to me. I’ll explain the realities of the situation to them, or put them on the wall so they can see it for themselves.”

  “Honoured General,” the administrator began, “the Mayor of Liulimiao wishes you to know that he will be making a formal complaint to the Emperor for the destruction you and your men have caused this town.”

  “Good,” Haung stepped forward, invading the prim administrator’s space and stared him in the eye. “Tell him he can do so when the Emperor arrives, or if he wishes to challenge my authority he can damn well present himself here and do it in person. Now, get out.”

  Haung turned away, presenting his back to the administrator and returned to the table overflowing with scrolls, maps and diagrams. The quiet was only broken by the soft whisper of the other man’s slippers on the tiled floor as he left.

  The town was everything that Gongliang had suggested, and less. The wall was low. If they had enough time Haung would have liked to double its height, but there was not. Still, the Mongols would need to make ladders to reach the top. Those, he hoped, they would not have brought with them. Another delaying tactic.

  The years of peace had made the town planners complacent. They had allowed merchants to build their homes and warehouses right up to the wall and, whilst the road was wide enough for a wagon or two, it restricted the movement of troops and supplies. Those homes and warehouses were a fire risk too. No army wanted a big drop in front of them, full of enemy soldiers, and a raging fire behind. Demolition was the only option and as soon as Haung had come through the gates, the majority of his army still filtering down the valley, he had ordered Gongliang to start pulling them down.

  The location was useful though. The town was situated on the south bank of the river at the point where two valleys joined. A stone bridge that would have been hard to destroy even if there had been any powder remaining was the only means of passage. The western valley, from which the river flowed, was wide, deep and full of marsh. A small road, built high up on the hillside, was the only pathway through that valley.

  The main valley, the one the army had followed, now formed the course of the river. The meander, the wide turn the river made to flow south, had led to the development of a large cliff on the eastern side. Marshland extended down the river course as far as could be seen.

  The road itself was on the western side of the river, on land slightly raised above the valley floor, and ran close to the city walls. A well-armed garrison might well be able to prevent a much larger army using that road by the simple expedience of loosing crossbow bolts at any and everyone who tried to march down it.

  In front of the town and road, the land sloped gently down to the river. This area was wide enough for a reasonable force to gather, out of bow range, or to ride past the town. Though they would still have to join the road to make further progress and bring themselves in range of the crossbows.

  All things considered, it did not make a bad spot to defend. Gongliang had come up with some simple ideas quickly and Enlai had gone off on his own saying he might know someone in the town who could be of assistance. Haung had not asked for more information or tried to stop him, the Taiji had become increasingly irritable on the journey. A change Haung put down to the man’s worries about Xióngmāo. Whatever relationship those two had was beyond his concern at the moment.

  The door creaked open behind him and he turned around, ready to shout at the next administrator bringing in some facile complaint from the Mayor. He let the anger drain away as Gongliang came in.

  “I just saw an administrator rushing down the corridor, looking decidedly pale. Your handy work?” Gongliang said.

  “They are a constant annoyance.” Haung slumped down in one of the wooden chairs and picked up his cup of cold tea, taking a swallow and screwing up his face at the taste. “I am sorely tempted to go and drag the Mayor out of his siheyuan, out of whatever tiny little room within it he is holed up in, and make him stand a stint on the wall, in full armour.”

  “You could do it.” Gongliang sat in the other chair and placed his palm on the teapot. “I’ll have them send you some more tea, some hot tea.”

  “I could do it, but he still rules this town and we need the people on our side.” Haung smiled, a tight grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “The tea would be good though. What can I do to help you?”

  “The pits are dug and we will continue to dig and plant spikes in as many more as we can. There are pits on the approach to the wall, though they should be easy to avoid. We cannot dig down too far without the pits flooding with water, which gives me another idea,” Gongliang said.

  “Will it upset the mayor?”

  “Definitely,” Gongliang smiled.

  “Then you have my permission to do it.” Haung returned the smile. “Now, what other good news do you have for me?”

  “There is a small supply of powder in the town. That could come in handy.”

  “I thought huŏ yào was tightly controlled,” Haung said, leaning forward in his chair.

  “It is,” Gongliang admitted. “I’m not sure where he found out, or how he knew it would be here, but here it is and we can use it.”

  “Who?”

  “Enlai,” Gongliang said. “He sent a messenger with a map.”

  “Have you seen him since we got here?”

  “No.” The engineer shook his head. “I just get the occasional note, message or, as with the huŏ yào, a map. Everything he has sent has been useful though.”

  “You were at the Wall before me, what do you know about him?” Haung asked.

  “Do you mean Corporal Enlai or the one we have now?” Gongliang raised his palms in a gesture of confusion. “I don’t know anything about him except that he is the best fighter I have ever seen, better than Gang and Liu, and, forgive me, even better than you.”

  “Nothing to forgive in that. The man is incredible. I just don’t know anything about him and I don’t like puzzles. Now he has vanished into the city and seems to know where to find lots of equipment and people who can help us.”

  “Haung, I don’t have an answer, but I will get you some more tea. And you really should rest. The troops are making the preparations. I would say the Mongols will be here within a day, two at the most.”

  “Not the best of news,” Haung said. “I’ll drink the tea and try to get some sleep. Wake me up if anything happens.”

  “Of course, General,” Gongliang said, gathering up the tea things and carrying them from the room.

  # # #

  “Are there less of them, do you think?” Gang said.

  “No,” Liu replied, “but if you want to count, I’ll go and ask them to stand still. Just so it is easier for you.”

  “If you could, that would be much appreciated.” Gang laughed and slapped Liu on the shoulder. The thinner man stumbled forward under the weight of the friendly gesture. “You need to get some more meat on those bones, Liu. It’ll keep you warmer in the winter. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to wrap yourself up in all those clothes.”

  Liu smiled at Gang as he tugged his clothes back into place. “Not all of us were blessed with a larger frame, Gang.”

  “Blessed? This took hard work, a lot of food and many years.” Gang grabbed his belly in two hands as evidence.

  Haung listened to the two warriors joke and bicker, but his eyes were focused upon the Mongol army that was riding down the road. It was not the strict lines and formations of an Empire army on the march, but it moved as one, like an ant colony migrating or a herd of cattle, which in effect it was. Every warrior was on horseback and was leading two or three other horses without riders. It looked exactly like the last time, before the Wall, but now he had no way of knowing whether the Mongol magicians were with them.

 
“How long?” Gongliang asked. “How long can we hold?”

  “A few days, maybe.” Haung lowered his voice as he answered. No need for his estimate to spread to the troops. The men needed to think they could hold forever, despite the evidence to contrary and their earlier retreat from the Wall. The messengers he had sent on horseback, requisitioned from the stables in the city, to find the Emperor’s army offered some hope. Not enough to rely upon, but enough to maintain the spark of life, the possibility of salvation. “We’ll hold until the Emperor’s army gets here.”

  “If my idea works, we might be able to hold even longer,” Gongliang looked over the wall towards the east where the river still worked to erode the base of the cliff.

  “I would have preferred to take the bridge down,” Haung said.

  “Not a chance,” his second in command replied. “It has been there a long time and is made of heavy stone. We don’t have the amount of powder needed to blow it up. The supplies Enlai found have been put to better use.”

  “I know,” Haung nodded following Gongliang’s gaze, “but it still does not sit right with me. Never give an enemy an advantage, control their movements, know their thoughts, that’s what I was taught.”

  “A Jiin-Wei is not a general. Listen to your army training as well. We could not stop them at the bridge, but we can use the landscape against them,” Gongliang said.

  “Haung,” Gang called, “can you see? There are too many to cross the bridge.”

  “Did you block the road?” Haung said.

  “Yes,” Gang smiled broadened. “You worry like an old mother. I did what the engineers told me to and had the men build a rubble wall on the southern road, from the wall to the river. They are not getting their horses past that and the river’s too deep. We have them trapped.”

  “Or they have us trapped,” Liu suggested in a whisper that only Haung heard. He could not disagree.

  Haung looked along the city wall, wishing it was half-again higher. It was typical of Empire architects and engineers. Quite capable of building a wall that curved and followed the contours of the land they insisted on interspersing square block towers within it. Something to do with the academy processes of learning from the past, the order, the structure and a certain unwillingness to change. Apart from the aesthetic, there were some positives to the wall. It had been well built. Originally, great blocks of stone had been carefully cut and placed, hardly a visible join between, to form the wall. The towers grew from the wall in the same manner, no sudden breaks in the stone courses, they were part of the wall itself. The towers had platforms large enough for a contingent of archers or, if they had any, siege weapons. Crenellations lined the battlements and there were arrow slits built into the tower and wall.

  Of the negatives, the wall had not been maintained very well by the city. Here and there, all along the wall, plants had found small weathered crannies in which to sprout and grow. The smooth surface now contained a selection of hand and toe holds that a very determined climber might be able to use to scale the wall. Some of the arrow slits had been blocked by the owners of the homes which had been built against the wall. This, annoyingly from Gongliang’s and Haung’s point of view, had meant the walkways on lower levels of the wall had been removed. The Engineers had done a good job of erecting a series of wooden platforms upon which archers could stand and loose their ammunition through the uncovered arrow slits.

  In the two days, they had done the best they could to ready the old garrison town for battle. The militia had been called up and armed. It had not been a pretty sight, mismatched and mouldy armour, rusty weapons and a collection of men too old to stand the wall or too young to be blooded in battle. Haung had given as many of them as possible the short-range repeating crossbows, hoping their numbers would overcome the lack of accuracy. The real army had strict instructions to make the best use of the militia, but not allow them to interfere with the defence of the wall.

  If it came to a lengthy siege, which Haung considered very unlikely, then they had water from the city well and enough food from the merchants’ warehouses to last for a few weeks. The biggest threat in a siege was illness and disease. Once that took hold, it was all over. With a rueful smile, Haung acknowledged the fact that he was over-thinking this battle. A few days is all they needed, all they had planned for and, like any well trained Jiin-Wei, he had an escape plan. Though this one involved saving the whole town and army.

  “Do you think they are going to talk first?” Liu asked.

  “They didn’t last time,” Gang replied.

  “That was the Wall,” Gongliang said. “Xióngmāo said that in their own land, if they attack towns, they offer a chance to surrender first.”

  “Really?” Gang said.

  “She explained that it takes too long to rebuild.” Gongliang shrugged.

  “What happens if the town doesn’t surrender?” Liu asked.

  “Then everyone inside is killed.” Gongliang looked away as he spoke.

  “A forgiving people,” Haung said. “Liu, do you think you can find a shè dào master?”

  Liu gave a slight bow and began to pick his way through the troops readying themselves on the wall.

  The Mongol army was still filtering across the bridge and arraying itself in front of the wall. The front ranks were sat astride their horses, spears raised and fur lined helmets firm on their heads. Each new rank filed into place behind the one in front, swelling the army, line by line, spear by spear.

  “Still think we could have held them at the bridge,” Gang grumbled.

  “Not a chance,” Gongliang said. “With those bows they use? It would have been simple for them to pick us off whilst we stood in battle lines waiting for them to charge us.”

  “We are safer behind the walls,” Haung agreed. “Remember, our strategy is to hold for a few days until the Emperor’s army reaches us. They’ll come with all the supplies we lack, all the things we had to leave behind at the wall. We defend.”

  “I prefer attack,” Gang said.

  Haung acknowledged the comment with a nod and continued to survey the Mongols as they settled into formation. At the centre, a single horseman stood high and waved his spear to either side. The front rank raised their spears higher in response and gave a great cheer. The sound flowed over the ground between the Mongols and the wall, crept up the stones and into the hearts of the defenders. A groan came from the army on the wall. It was followed by shouted orders, demands and exhortations from the Empire officers.

  “The militia will not hold,” Gang said.

  “They will,” Haung answered. “I’ve seen a militia hold when all was lost. The desire to protect their families, their wives and children, is strong and it will come out in the battle. Gongliang, how far out is the first pit?”

  “That line of stones, at the base of the first slope is the furthest extent of the pits. Any further out and they flooded with water. We had to backfill and hide them,” the Engineer explained. “My wife is going to kill me for getting involved in two battles in less than a year.”

  “I can’t imagine that mine is going to be too happy either,” Haung agreed, resting a hand on Gongliang’s shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze.

  Liu reappeared through the throng of soldiers on the wall. An old man, who carried a semi-circle of thin wood and a quiver of arrows, followed the axe master.

  “This is Yu Dayou,” Liu said. “All the others agree that he is the best shè dào master we have in the army and town.”

  “Master Yu,” Haung said in greeting, bowling slightly. “Could I ask of you a small task?”

  The man’s thin grey hair fell across his face as he bowed to Haung and slowly straightened. Archers, Haung had always thought, required strong backs, muscled arms and clear eyes. The old archer in front of him possessed the piercing eyes needed, but it was clear from his frame that the best years were behind him. Haung gave Liu a quizzical look. The tall, thin axe-wielding warrior returned it with a shrug.


  “General,” Gongliang said, pointing out across the wall and down towards the Mongol army arranged on the inner slope of the sweeping meander. “Here they come.”

  There was movement within the front ranks. The warrior who had stood tall now moved his horse forward at a slow, steady pace. He was flanked by two more, their spears raised.

  “Master Yu,” Haung said, “we may have need of your bow.”

  The old man nodded and dipped his finger and thumb into a pouch tied to his belt, drawing forth a waxed bow string. Haung watched as the archer hooked a loop of the string over a hook at one end of the strange semi-circle of his bow. The weapon appeared to be made in sections, strong hooks at either end and a length of wood inlaid, halfway towards to the centre grip, with a darker material. As the sunlight caught the bow Haung could see that it was more complicated than that. The wooden sections, on both sides of the grip, appeared to consist of different woods, all layered and joined so well that only the slight change in hue gave the clues to the construction. This was not the simple bow of an Empire soldier. Even the Crossbows looked simple in comparison.

  The master archer placed one end of the bow down on the stone floor of the battlements, then using his knees, feet and all the strength his small frame could provide, strung the bow. For one desperate moment, it was possible that either the bow would break or the old man’s arms would snap. However, with a last twist of his body, Master Yu slipped the other loop of string over its hook and the bow snapped into place.

  “I am ready,” Master Yu said, a sheen of sweat on his head, a smile on his face and the recurved bow in his hand.

  “Good,” Haung said and pointed. “You see the line of stones out there? Can your arrow reach that far?”

  “Yes and further” the archer replied.

  “Really?” Haung said in surprise. “I want you to put an arrow in front of their horses. Close to them if you can, but do not hit them.”

  “Of course, General.” The old man took an arrow from his quiver and brought it to the bow string. Two steps later, he had moved to the wall, sighted and raised the bow to the sky, drew and released in one smooth movement.