by Andre Norton
Wei, Wu, Shu to the south: the Three Kingdoms into which the once great Empire of Han had split. In the dark days at the end of the dynasty, Liu Pei, though of the House of Heaven, had been so poor that he had made and sold sandals to earn food for his mother. Then the three great heroes—Kuan Yu, Cheng Fei, Chuko Liang—had sworn blood oaths to uphold him. Ts’ao Ts’ao wore the dragon gown in Wei, and Sun Ch’uan in the south. Much blood had flowed, many towns had been taken and burned, men had died in war, women and children had starved in summer, frozen in winter; yet none of the Three Kingdoms had yielded one to the other. Truly this was a time when more sorrow than happiness, more shame than honor, governed the world of men.
Now, as Mu-Ti rode out through the night with Ma Su and his men, in the chill of the dark he lost some of his longing for sleep. He was a very humble member of the General’s staff, riding at its tail, and so he could hear the muttering of men grumbling at the need for breaking their night’s rest.
Once, from the dusky ranks of the foot soldiers, came words as the staff clattered by on horseback. “Ha, what do horsemen know of aching fact? Does mud care which cloak it bespatters?”
The guardsman at Mu-Ti’s side cracked his whip threateningly at the unseen speaker. “Three inches of a never-idle tongue may well find itself shortened by two,” he called back, though he must have already been well past the soldier who had so complained.
It was well into the following day before they reached the goal set them. Ma Su and Weng Ping and their men dismounted, ate cold oat cakes, and drank from saddle bottles. As he ate, Ma Su walked a little apart, staring about him critically at the looming hills and the road. Mu-Ti, his horse’s reins looped about his wrist, ready to ride at the first command, moved closer to the two generals than the others. That he wore the First Minister’s badge gave him, he decided, some freedom from the usual military custom in this company, and he somehow wanted to observe Ma Su, even as he fought the dragon’s breath of hatred every time he looked upon him. Did he wish the General to fail? A thousand times yes, were it not that such failure would mean disaster for them all.
“I do not see why it is thought that Wei will dare to come into this place,” Ma Su commented.
“His Excellency has had reports from the scouts sent to watch the march of the enemy. And he is one who thinks twice before he gives orders once.”
“His Excellency’s caution and farsightedness are well known.” But there was a suggestion in Ma Su’s tone that he did not altogether mean that statement to be a compliment. “Look to that hill standing there—look upon it closely, Weng Ping. It is well wooded, a heaven-created place to give one advantage over any man advancing along the road. Such a camp as the war god himself would choose above all others.”
Weng Ping stared dutifully at the hill. Mu-Ti saw that he ran his tongue over his lower lip before he answered. To be a subordinate to such as Ma Su meant that the tongue must be guarded. Weng Ping well knew that the swiftest horse cannot overtake a word once spoken. “Elder brother,” he said finally, “if we leave this road for the hill, and the forces of Ssuma then surround it, we are lost. Also, it was in the orders given me that I must set my men to felling trees to build a stockade fort right here.”
Ma Su laughed. “Younger brother, it is easy to see you are not learned in the superior books of war. There it is stated as one of the major rules that one must strive to look down upon one’s enemy from a higher position. If they attempt to march past here, I will swear that not even one of their breastplates shall be returned to him who sent them! Those who follow that part of themselves which is great are great men; those who follow that part which is little are little men.”
And now Weng Ping flushed, for there was contempt in Ma Su’s voice. Still he answered, and without any show of heat. “Perhaps that be true, elder brother. But have you noted that the hill lacks any spring of water and that the day is hot? If the enemy comes and captures the spring below those heights, what then? I bow to your superior learning in such matters, but also I have known thirst and it can move men strangely. Above all, this is not following our orders. Should we be blown east or west, when it was told us to do this and not that?”
“His Worthy Excellency Chuko Liang is not here. What does he know of this ground save what has been reported to him by scouts, doubtless ignorant men with no learning in the finer points of warfare? Were he here, he would agree with me straightway. As for the matter of water—desperate men fight desperately. Hungry barbarians will breach a city wall when the odor of prosperity within reaches their nostrils. If they thirst and must reach water, each man will fight as a hundred. Why do you, younger brother, presume now to oppose me? Am I not the commander here, one who has even given a blood pledge to be victor? Do you think I would risk my head were I not sure this is right and proper?”
“Give me a part of the force, then, to camp to the west below, that I may support you if trouble comes.”
“You bark like a fox of ill omen.” Ma Su puffed out his lips in a daunting scowl. “Why should I waste men so foolishly?”
But even as he spoke thus harshly there was a stir among the men waiting within bow shot. And their ranks opened to let through a man who stumbled and wavered as he ran. He wore the coarse clothing of a countryman, much stained and muddied, as if he had fallen often on soft, wet ground. He came to his knees before Ma Su, knocking his head against the earth in deep respect.
“What seek you here, fellow?” the General demanded.
“This worthless person brings a message to the Excellent and Honorable General. The army of the demon-commanded men of Wei is close. They come as fast as if they were mounted on air-flying dragons! Already their scouts spy among the near hills, and behind them are as many as the locusts gathering to eat the crops of those Heaven has chosen to feel the weight of famine.”
“Then it is time we prepare to meet them. A foot of jade is of no value, an inch of time is to be prized.” The General spoke to those about him, but he gave no thanks to the one who had brought the warning. Instead he said directly to Weng Ping in a cold voice, “Since you have found it fit to question the rules of war, you shall take half a legion and do as you will with it. But in the hour of victory you must answer for your presumption.”
“Elder brother, at that time I shall not seek to evade any questions which may be asked of me,” Weng Ping answered. He called to his officers and messengers, ordering those spared to him by Ma Su to be ready to march. Also he beckoned to Mu-Ti, saying, “It is not forgotten that His Excellency desires a map to be taken to him. This I shall prepare for you.”
Mu-Ti pushed to the side of the messenger, put a hand on the man’s shoulder. The countryman, still breathing deeply, looked up. And Mu-Ti knew him, not as the countryman he seemed, but as one he had once seen at headquarters wearing the armor of a bowman. This was one of the “eyes and ears” of the forces. Mu-Ti brought out his saddle gourd and put the vessel in the spy’s hands, saying, “Drink, elder brother.”
But even as the other lifted it to his lips, he spoke over its rim. “Empty is the clear path to Heaven, crowded the dark road to Hell. When the mantis hunts the locust he forgets the shrike hunts him.”
“Kao Hsiang camps at Liehliucheng with a legion.” Mu-Ti could give no order, but the scout was a shrewd man. That statement would hold meaning for him.
He handed back the gourd, nodded, and slipped away.
Ma Su’s forces were already on the march toward the hill. But Mu-Ti, again in the saddle, followed Weng Ping.
His much smaller body of troops marched some distance from the hill where Ma Su’s men now labored to cut down trees and build a rude fort. Then, on the road level, Weng Ping gave orders to do the same. While his men worked Weng Ping with his own hand copied on bamboo strips (those meant for the messages of first importance) a map of the country, marking the positions of his own force and that of Ma Su. He also made a short report of what the senior General had decided about a battleground. Then he
wound the outer cover about the bundle of strips, sealing it with his thumb ring.
He summoned his own scouts and sent them to watch for the coming of Ssuma and the progress of Ma Su on the hill. But Mu-Ti left before they did, mounted on a horse selected for strength and speed, riding at a fast pace back to the headquarters of the army.
Twice he changed horses, but time moved also, and it was again late at night when he staggered reeling with weariness into the presence of Chuko Liang. The Minister took the message packet quickly from Mu-Ti, but he did not open it until he had ordered food and drink to be brought and had arranged that the boy himself be seated to have refreshment. He then read rapidly what Weng Ping had written, and the map he compared to the larger one still lying open on the table.
He glanced at Mu-Ti, who was chewing on an oil cake, trying to appease his inward-clawing hunger without too great loss of manners.
“From a gabled roof the rolling melon has two choices of descent, though both lead to disaster. A bad word whispered will echo a hundred miles. What you have seen and heard, do not repeat.”
Mu-Ti put down the half-eaten cake. “This person is both blind and dumb, Lord.”
But if he did not wish Mu-Ti to talk, Chuko Liang made no pretense of trying to spare his higher officers the full extent of possible disaster. And then those in the chamber saw what they never had seen before—Chuko Liang displaying anger. For he struck such a blow with his fist on the top of the table that the strong wood quivered. And he shouted in a voice which issued hotly from his throat, even as flames might issue from the maw of a dragon, “Now has Ma Su’s ignorance and unworthy pride ruined the army! It is easy to enroll a thousand soldiers, but where does one find a good general?”
The officers in the room looked from one to another, gathering closer to their commander. And Yang I, who was of the highest rank there, dared to ask, “What is the dire thing which has happened, Excellency?”
“By this stupid disobedience of a direct order, perhaps we have already lost Chiehting, maybe even more. Ma Su wagered his head on this matter. Well, if he dies not in battle he will soon learn that a flaw in a scepter of jade may be ground away, but for a flaw in deed nothing can be done!”
Then Chuko Liang drew a cloak of calm once more around him. His hand went again to his mustache, twisting the hairs this way and that, which was always a sign he was in deep thought.
Yang I said then, “I am not too clever, or learned in the classics of war. But let me now replace Ma Su and perhaps all is not quite lost.”
However, as the Minister nodded agreement, almost absently, and Yang I prepared to give orders to his men, there came another messenger, the first of many more.
Mu-Ti, dismissed at last to the comfort of his hard bed, did not hear the news which came, each time more dire, to be reported first to the Minister and then, from mouth to ear, mouth to ear, all through the fort. But when he was roused at last to attend his lord, he heard the whole of it. One man can be ordered tongueless, or two, but not six or seven.
Even as Weng Ping had warned, Ssuma’s men surrounded the hill which Ma Su had chosen to fortify. Ssuma himself had ridden in disguise to view the station which the men of Wu had taken. But the brightness of the moonlight had made plain his face so that those in the stockade above had known him. And at that time Ma Su was reported to have laughed and said, “If he is well advised by fortune he will not attack us. The careless rat who chews upon the cat’s tail must be prepared for lightning.”
Then Ma Su issued orders for his men to watch for a red flag to be raised at the hill’s crown. When they saw that flag they were to attack. But in the meantime Ssuma’s forces drew in closely, and the spring of water was now in enemy hands. Then another detachment of the forces of Wei moved on to check Weng Ping.
When the sun rose again, there was thirst among the men on the hill, which grew worse during the hottest hours of the day. Yet Ssuma made no move to attack, rather letting the heat of the sun work for him. And when at last Ma Su grew impatient and raised the flag, the men did not move forward. They were so heat-ridden in their armor that many were faint and fell gasping.
Ma Su, greatly angered, commanded that the officers in charge of the companies that had not moved were to be cut down where they stood for not obeying orders. When three or four had so fallen, the men indeed rose for a desperate sally downslope. Ssuma’s men refused to meet them, greeting them from afar with a rain of well-aimed bolts from their crossbows. Then Ma Su ordered his men to withdraw to the stockade and to defend it until help came. But Weng Ping was so cut off he could not march to their relief.
Disorder broke out. Some of the men were angry because of their dead officers, others were mad for water. Some even surrendered that they might drink. And later the men of Wei set fire to the wood and brush on the hillside. Then at last Ma Su was driven to dash to the west, while Chang Ho, the leader of Ssuma’s van, chased him into the camp of Wei Yen, well to the rear of Chiehting. A roll of signal drums halted that chase as Wei Yen’s men in turn pushed the enemy back toward the city.
However, there Ssuma and his son had prepared an ambush for Wu Yen, and Weng Ping moved to save his comrades from being entrapped. While they fought so, their camps were overrun by fast-moving troops Ssuma had detached for that purpose, and they were driven back to the city of Liehliucheng, where Kao Hsiang came to their aid. They proposed a night attack, and so matters stood for awhile.
Wu Yen and the other commanders, determined to make sure of Chiehting, set out by three separate roads. But as they approached that city a bomb exploded in a brilliant light, drums rolled, and the enemy appeared demon-wise before them. Then, when Weng Ping reached the meeting place, they had to abandon their hope of retaking the city. They could only fight their way back to Liehliucheng, to discover Ssuma’s men again before them.
Realizing that they were outnumbered as well as outgeneraled, Wu Yen suggested a retreat to retain the pass at Yangping. Part of Ssuma’s army was pursuing them down the Chi Valley, while the other half of the enemy forces, under Ssuma himself, was heading for Hsieh to capture there the main supply base and baggage train. Thus they had already neared Hsicheng, a town which had another great depot of stores and which was also the only protection for the road leading to the important cities of Nanan, T’ienshin, and Aintiny.
Meanwhile, Mu-Ti, aroused from his slumber, had come back to the Minister’s chamber. There were officers there, messengers coming and going. But he threaded his way through that throng and took up again the sword of Chuko Liang, ready to wait on his lord.
The Minister listened to the flood of ill reports, and now no expression of anger crossed his face. Nor did he hesitate, but gave swift orders to this man and that. And his armor bearer brought forward his armor, fitting it upon him even as he so spoke.
Across Mu-Ti’s arm again rested the mighty battle sword. It had been a gift from the Son of Heaven himself, as one could see by the engraving on the blade when it was drawn. For there reared the five-clawed Lung of the Emperor. This differed from other dragons, for some trick of the artist’s lines in drawing had partly lidded the huge eyes, so that the scaled protector seemed about to sleep, or else was but half awakened from some dream. Thus this blade was known as the “Slumbering Dragon.”
When Mu-Ti brought it forward to the Minister, Chuko Liang, leaving it still in his page’s hold, drew it forth a little from its scabbard and looked upon the dragon, his face still and set with purpose. “So it has all come to naught,” he observed. “Mine is the fault. And when a fault is known it must be amended as well as such can be done. Each man follows the path of destiny, but no two paths are alike. It seems that mine now runs into a place of evil intent, wasted wisdom, and stupidity.”
Then he called two captains of well-proven ability, Kuan and Chang, and he told them, “Take three companies of men and ride the road to Wukungshan. If you see the enemy, do not fight, but as you go beat your war drums, sound the horns of battle, and shout as l
oudly as might a great army. If they then retire, do not pursue, but ride directly for the Yangping Pass.”
And he sent the commander Yang I to put all in the town of Chienko in order for retreat, gathering up the supplies and men, and the people living thereabouts who feared the coming of the enemy. Ma Tai and Chang Wei were to establish a rear guard, setting cunning ambushes along the valley.
All these orders he gave in a calm voice, as one who had a full year of time and was not in truth facing death and an end to all his planning. Nor did he neglect to send other riders to Nanan, T’ienshin, and Aintiny with the dark news that it might be well for those living there to take the road to Hanchung.
He was so calm that those who listened were heartened and armed with courage in turn, as if they had drunk deep of some stream wherein the war god himself had spilled his own wine of bravery. Then, with five companies, Chuko Liang took horse and they rode for Hsicheng to remove the stores there. For were those supplies to be taken or destroyed, it indeed would be a fatal blow to all the forces of Wu.
As they rode thus, Mu-Ti was directly behind his lord, carrying not the sword, which Chuko Liang had now taken into his own hand, but displaying the tailed banner of the Commander-in-Chief proudly and properly, that all might know Chuko Liang was such a leader as went into danger and not away from it. More messengers came, and always the news they brought was such as a man would not choose to hear—that Ssuma was sweeping toward them with a force to darken the country he passed over.
No leader of high rank was left with the Minister’s own small troop save Chuko Liang himself, and some civil officials who were not fighting men. And when they reached the town after a forced march the Minister gave his orders sharply, right and left, so that men scattered and ran to do his bidding. Their already small company was halved, so that those men who were present to move the stores had to sweat and strain, getting them loaded on oxcarts to be drawn away from the doomed town.