“Why would someone want to kill you, Hsü?” the General demanded.
“Perhaps we should go to your tent, General?” Hsü invited him. “It will be more private.”
The General agreed and gave orders to the guards to bring the prisoner along while he stamped off to his tent. Hsü went to his and Talon’s tent to collect the snake, then came and tossed the body and head onto the floor in front of the officers. The General’s eyes widened when he saw it. “That is a Krait!” he exclaimed, picking up a lantern to peer at it in the light.
“It nearly bit Talon, here. I was walking to our tent when I noticed someone creeping around nearby and looked in. This thing was slipping under the tent wall and making for him while he slept. They like warm places.” Hsü’s smile was wry. “Then this fellow tried to escape down the river. Had it not been for Talon’s skill with a bow, we might have lost him.”
“You said that you would explain the reason for the attempted assassination, Hsü,” the General prompted him.
“Ah, yes. I am running for governor, General. Didn’t you know?”
The General’s face registered genuine surprise, and then he smiled. “I had no idea, Hsü!” he exclaimed. “I am delighted. You are a dark one; you never said anything until now! I hope you win. We have need of a good man for that office, as Guangzhou has become notorious for its crime. I shall certainly support you in that endeavor. You only have to ask me for help.”
“I thank you sincerely for your support. I might just do that, General. Now we should see what we have here before our prisoner expires. He is badly wounded.”
“Hmm, it would seem that you have some enemies who would rather you did not return to contest the position. Bring in the prisoner!” the General bellowed to his aide, who winced; he was standing right next to him. The aide hastened to lift the flap of the tent and called to the guards. They had to carry the bedraggled man in, and he hung limply in their grip. His tunic was covered in blood and he was as pale as a ghost.
“We don’t have much time. He is going fast!” Hsü said urgently when he saw the condition of the man.
“Who sent you, and for what purpose?” the General said to the prisoner, whose eyes were closed. He slapped him none to gently on the face. The man opened his eyes and grimaced with pain. The General slapped him again harder and gripped his lower jaw, forcing the prisoner to lift his head. “You tell me now, or my people will dismember you piece by piece. If you confess I will allow you to die intact!” he told the man, who grimaced again but nodded.
“I was sent from Guangzhou. Wu....” He gasped with pain. They all leaned closer. “Who sent you?” The General demanded loudly.”
The man half opened his eyes and stared at the General. Then slowly his eyes glazed over and his head lolled back. The guards still held him upright, but one of them peered at him and said, “I think he is dead, my Lord.”
“What do you make of that, Hsü?” The General asked, with an annoyed expression on his florid face.
“I heard the name Wu, but not the rest. I know of only one person by that name, but I wouldn’t be too surprised,” Hsü said with a thoughtful expression. “I still find it hard to believe that an administrator would attempt this kind of thing.”
The General shook his head. “Ambition can make men do ugly things. See if he is carrying anything on him,” he ordered.
The soldiers went through the pockets of the dead man carefully. One of them gave low exclamation of surprise and dragged out something from the breast of the man’s shirt. It was an oil cloth pouch. He passed it to the General.
“What have we here?” the General muttered and opened it.
His expression changed at least twice while he read the short note. Then he handed it to Hsü. “You had better read it,” he said. His expression was bleak.
Hsü took the letter and read it carefully by the light of the lanterns. He finally looked up. “I think we have enough evidence now, General,” he said.
“Indeed you do. I shall be reporting back to the palace as soon as I arrive. I will have a copy made tonight, and I shall make absolutely sure that this information is handed over to the Chamberlain... and certain others of interest. An attempt upon the life of anyone on official duty is treason. You should take the original with you and present it to the Governor.”
He brightened up and said, “We should toast the good Joss of your friend here. You saved his life, and now you know who your enemies are.”
Wine came, and the two men sat down to play a game of Go, with Talon watching and trying to learn.
*****
They breasted a rise that overlooked the town of Sian-Jang two days later and were confronted with an astonishing spectacle. Before the walled city were hundreds, perhaps even a thousand black and brown tents. Talon had seen a sight like this when he had been on the ill-fated expedition to Myriokephalon with the Emperor of Byzantium. Then it had been Seljuks, but this scene was all too familiar.
Hsü rode next to Talon and glanced at him as they stopped to stare. “You do not seem to be surprised to see this, Talon.”
“I have seen this kind of thing before. I’ll tell you about it some time,” Talon said. “So these are the famous Mongols.”
“Infamous is the word I would prefer to use,” Hsü told him. “These people are barbaric and have nothing to offer a civilized people such as we. But our elitist advisors buy them off when they should instead be making a concerted effort to drive them off our land.”
The General heard him. “I agree with you, Hsü.” His voice was grim. “Until we have leaders in positions of influence who fully understand what kind of people these are and the threat they represent to our empire, we are doomed to submit to their whims and wills.”
The General gave orders for the caravan to camp on the gentle slopes of the hills facing the river. “That way,” Hsü told Talon, “we can defend ourselves if there should be trouble.”
“Will there be trouble?” Talon asked him.
“There should not be, but historically there always has been. Those people are led by chiefs who owe allegiance to no one but their supreme leader. Until recently that was Khan of Khamag, but rumor has it that he has died, or been deposed, and now there is another called Genghis. He will not be here today. One of the lesser chiefs is always designated for the task of collecting the tribute. That means that it will be up to the chief whether there is trouble or not.”
There was a strategy to the positioning of the encampment. General Yang Hsün wanted to have the maximum advantage over the people in the tented city below. The Mongols knew the Chinese had arrived because there had been outriders watching their progress for a couple of days now, but no one had tried to interfere with them. This was, after all, Chinese territory; although to see the scouts lurking on the hilltops one might have thought otherwise.
This was when Talon finally had a chance to see the Erupters, as Hsü laughingly called them. These cumbersome bronze tubes on heavy frames were among the first pieces to be unloaded and placed on a level space that faced the tents on the plain. The men who labored to mount these curious things appeared to know what they were doing and moved at a steady pace to set them on the ground and anchor them. The muzzles of the tubes pointed into the air in the general direction of the Mongol camp, while the back was propped against some sold pegs hammered into the ground. They piled stones alongside both Erupters, along with some iron balls. They also placed some small kegs nearby, which Hsü told Talon were full of the ‘flame powder’.
“Today we will not be firing stones or iron, just making the powder explode,” he told Talon. “Hold your mount close, as it will be frightened by the noise, and cover your ears; that is, if you can do both things at once,” he said with a smile. “The General intends to announce himself to the barbarians.”
They were about thirty paces away from the four Erupters. The men were standing around waiting for an order; the General arrived on horseback dressed in all his finery, his f
ace half obscured by the huge horned helmet on his head. He looked very fierce and was accompanied by numerous aides in armor; drawn up behind him were fifty of his mounted troops. They, too, were dressed in their finest uniforms and could be seen clearly by anyone down in the tent city, which was less than half a league away.
The General raised his hand and men stooped over the devices, each with a smoking stick in his hands. As soon as the General dropped his arm, they pushed the smoking sticks into a small hole in the back of each tube. There were small jets of flame from the holes and the men jumped back. All four Erupters went off simultaneously. The serried clap of thunder that followed felt like a sledge hammer to Talon’s ears. The long jets of flame that came out of the muzzles of the tubes blinded him and made him gasp with shock. His horse reared and would have fled had he not been deep in the saddle and partly ready. Hsü had been expecting the crash of noise, but even his horse shied with fright. The horses of the Chinese troops shifted nervously, but for the most part they were held in check. A cloud of smoke swirled about the Erupters and the men who commanded them.
The sound of the enormous explosion reverberated around the hills, repeating itself a hundred times, becoming fainter until it finally died away. Talon stared wide-eyed at the devices, awed that they could make such an awful, head-splitting noise. His ears rang and his eyes were burning from the drifting smoke that carried with it an evil stink.
The General barked something and laughed. His men roared with laughter.
“What did he say?” Talon asked Hsü.
“He said, ‘That will show the bastards,’” Hsü told him with one of his rare smiles. “He calls his weapons ‘The Dragon’s breath.’ They certainly stink like it.”
Talon gave a shaken grin. He was beginning to like General Yang Hsün. His men clearly worshipped him. Indeed, these weapons were just how he imagined a dragon might breathe.
The reaction below them in the tent city was immediate. The distant figures down in the camp ran about in all directions. Horses had broken free and were running loose across the short plain. A herd of goats and sheep took to the hills, with their herdsmen chasing after them. Men dashed out of their tents to seize their horses and leap upon them, and then they formed up in loose packs to ride pell mell for the base of the hill to a point where the General was now leading his troops.
Hsü motioned Talon to join them. “This you must see, Talon,” he said. “We will leave a guard to stop the bastards from looting the Tribute before we can hand it over.”
The General and his grim-faced honor guard had formed up at the base of the hill well before the Mongols arrived: more of a mob of hairy, shouting horsemen on shaggy ponies than an organized company of troops. They stopped twenty paces from the thin straight line of the Chinese cavalry and slowly the shouting and excited gesticulating died down.
From out of the mob of milling horsemen rode three men. They were clearly leaders, as the other riders showed them respect, making way for them.
Talon examined each of these men with care. All three were large men compared to the others, although they rode the ubiquitous shaggy pony like everyone else. Their hair was black, except in one case where it was graying, and tied back in a knot: they wore fur caps that must have been hot in this climate. They also carried animal skins rolled up behind their saddles. It was as though they could care less about the heat of the day and were prepared to live on their horses no matter where they found themselves. Talon’s nose picked up the smell of mutton grease that wafted towards them as the Mongols jostled in front of the impassive Chinese.
All three wore stained silk jackets, over which they wore ringed armor that had known better days, but they carried their weapons as though they knew how to use them. The bows, Talon noticed with interest, were similar to those of the Seljuks, and just as the Seljuks did, they carried the scalps of their enemies hanging off their belts. Their faces were covered with sparse, unkempt beards and their expressions were hostile.
“So these are the Mongols?” He murmured to Hsü. “I have met their like before.”
Hsü gave him a keen look.
The superior man when resting in safety
does not forget that danger may come.
When in a state of security he does not forget the possibility of ruin.
When all is orderly, he does not forget that disorder may come.
Thus his person is not endangered and his States and all their clans are preserved.
—Confucius
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Duel
One of the Chinese delegation rode his mount forward and spoke to the Mongols in their own tongue. The greetings began on a sour note. The three leaders were angry at the way the General had announced his presence, but they were also awed by the voice of the Erupters.
Hsü translated for Talon as they sat listening to the introductions and the conversation that followed. The leader of the Mongols was a man called Prince Badzar, and he was at pains to tell the translator the meaning of his name: The Thunderbolt. He was the one with the greying hair and the long scar down his left cheek.
He in turn introduced the man on his right as Muunokhoi, or Vicious Dog, another scarred warrior who grinned wolfishly when being presented, displaying pointed teeth. The third man was introduced as Khoonbish, or Not a Human Being. He was the largest of the three. Talon took an instant dislike to the man. He sat his horse and spat contemptuously on the ground in front of the Chinese soldiers.
The Mongols demanded to be entertained, and the General knew that he had little choice but to invite them to his tent, which he did; but he asked politely enough that the rest of the Mongols kept clear of the caravan while the discussions were ongoing. They sullenly agreed, and with some sharp commands Badzar sent the bulk of the mounted rabble away. They trailed off down the slopes, leaving the three men and a couple of retainers behind.
Further introductions were made and Hsü was pulled into the discussion, which left Talon to drift off and spend some time with the men who had fired the Erupters. His Cantonese was barely good enough to speak to them, but they knew a little about him and his prowess with a bow, so they were friendly.
They showed him everything, from the barrels to the frames that supported them, and explained with much laughter the process whereby this equipment could be fired. He asked many questions; one of these on a ship could make it as dangerous as one of the Byzantine galleys with Greek Fire, he reasoned. He would have to talk to Hsü about the possibility of purchasing one for his ship, maybe two.
Evidently the entertainment went well, because the Mongols left late that night, full of expensive rice wine and food.
“Fortunately not fighting drunk,” Hsü remarked to Talon.
The next day would be the day when the fortune in silk bales and silver was handed over. The caravan would move down to the plain, where the animals and the goods would be transferred to the Mongols.
The Chinese were looking forward to this eagerly. It meant that they would have discharged their duty to the Emperor and could leave these dirty, hairy people to their own devices and go home to their families.
The next day the camp rose early, and soon the pack-animals were ready to move. The General made it clear that half his contingent would escort the baggage animals, while the remainder would stay at the camp and guard it while they were away. Some men on horseback had been spotted on the hill behind the camp. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before some scruffy-looking Mongols rode up and, ignoring the guards, dismounted and began to strut about the camp as though they owned it, staring at everything. Finally the Aide to the General had to ask them to leave, threatening to talk to their chief if they did not. They left with ugly looks. The camp was tense by the time the caravan began to wend its way down to the plain.
Talon elected to stay. It was none of his concern what happened down at the tent city. The tribute was being paid, and they were going to leave soon after. He went away from the camp to practice wi
th his bow.
He arrived back at the camp to find it in an uproar. The Mongols had returned and there had been an incident. Talon pushed his way through the crowd to find a group of Mongols threatening the officer in charge, whose men were pointing spears at them.
“They are like animals!” muttered one man. “They think they can take what they want whenever they want.”
So much for the policy of appeasement, Talon thought to himself. These people didn’t care how far they went, they only respected force.
It looked very tense and Talon could not understand what was being said in either language, although he caught some of the Chinese. The Mongols had come back and had begun to steal what they could, blatantly ignoring the Chinese soldiers who demanded that they leave. Finally one man had had enough and had pushed a burly Mongol away, only to receive a knife in the belly. He was in one of the tents dying as the uproar continued.
The Mongols shouted what seemed like insults and then decided as a group to leave. They pushed through the guards, contemptuously shoving their spears aside, and mounted up. One of them sneered down at the glowering men and waved his bow threateningly, then they galloped off, laughing.
When they were about forty yards away, one of them sent an arrow back into the crowd. It struck one of the guards in the chest, killing him instantly. Without thinking, Talon raised his own bow and sent an arrow back directly to strike the man who had fired. He tumbled off his horse to lie dead on the ground.
The silence which greeted this act was deafening. The Mongols turned as one and rode back to the body of their man, and their looks at the Chinese were full of menace. The guards, however, were now fully alert to the danger and the Mongols faced a hedge of spears, and several bowmen had come to join Talon. There was no doubt that the men around Talon approved of what he had done, but he was also painfully aware that he had helped make the situation far worse than before.
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