by Harold Lamb
Thus it happened that when Khlit rode with his companion into sight of the walled city of Shankiang he had the appearance of a traveler who was accompanied by a wrestler as henchman. Chagan's bulk was swathed in a padded quilt, bound around with silk sashes painted to represent his prowess; his Tatar boots were discarded for cotton wrappings, and a fur cap displaced his pointed helmet. The scar that ran down his cheek bore out his character, and his long hair had been shaved off.
The rough trails and caravan paths over the plains had changed to a broad road occupied by merchants' equipages, by wandering beggars, and by peasants carrying fish and grain to the city. On either side of the road the wind bells of tiled pagodas sounded cheerily; occasional stone pillars fashioned to charm away devils lined the way. Passing camels brushed past the horses of Khlit and Chagan.
The road joined the river Liao near the walls, and Khlit saw a multitude of junks drawn up along the banks. When evening fell and they were about to enter the gates, he saw the merchants and beggars with them point to the river and touch their foreheads in reverence.
Looking out he saw a large junk drifting down the current. It bore a multitude of colored lanterns, and banners floated from the mast and prow. The men on the junks along the banks raised a shrill chant as the vessel passed them. Khlit turned inquiringly to Chagan.
“They say,” whispered the latter contemptuously, “that the junk is sent out with lanterns to light the wandering ghosts of the dead. May the evil spirits rip my hide, but they had best waited until Li Jusong had gone. There will be more dead, then. Aye, the ghosts will be plentiful.”
So Chagan said, not knowing the prophecy of Li Chan Ko, magician of Li Jusong. But when he entered the towered gate of Shankiang, he touched Khlit's shoulder and pointed out over the river. In the distance the sun was setting. It was a dull, angry red in color. And between them and the sun drifted the lighted lanterns of the junk on its silent course down the river.
V
The Courts of Purgatory are filled not only from the City of Old Age. The Rakchas are gleeful when they hear the sound of trumpets summoning men into battle on earth.
For on the terrace of night the sleepers will throng. Surely, they are sleeping, since they went to their graves as beds.
From the Kang Mu Chronicles
The first thing that Chagan did on arriving in Shankiang was to find stables for the horses of the travelers, and quarters for themselves in the merchants' section of the town nearby. He bargained for a room over a candlemaker's shop where a window opened upon one of the main streets of the city. Another aperture in the rear gave access to a walled-in garden where the candle-maker, Wen Shu by name, tended a miniature garden in his leisure hours.
Never, save in Samarkand, had Khlit been in a city of the size of Shankiang. Unlike Tatar cities, the wall was the sole defense of the place—a wall of stone some forty feet in height, surmounted by occasional towers and pierced by four gates. Within the wall was a solid mass of wooden buildings, humming like a hive with its populace.
While he waited for the coming of Li Jusong, Khlit wandered through the streets of Shankiang, visiting the teeming waterfront, and the booths of the journeying scholars who wrote letters and books for their clients, by the walled temples of the monks. At a shop set up outside their quarters he bought a set of ivory chessmen from a vendor, saying to Chagan that it was well to have a trade when Li Jusong's men should question them. To this Cha-gan heartily agreed.
The giant sword-bearer seemed not in the best of humor. He spent long hours at the waterfront during the days of waiting, and returned with the news that Li Jusong had been seen approaching the river Liao. Also, he said, junks were hurrying to the city from the upper stretches of the river. That was foolish, Chagan declared, in the face of a coming army which was not allied to the Holangs.
Khlit watched Chagan closely, and he could have sworn the man had more on his mind than he was willing to tell. More than once the sword-bearer broke off what he was saying, to stare at his weapon in silence.
“Li Jusong should be here within three days,” Khlit observed to him one morning as they left their quarters.
“Aye,” said Chagan, “is not that what you are waiting for?”
The strange speech stuck in Khlit's mind. A curtained sedan was carried past them, and Khlit caught a glimpse of a yellow face peering out from the curtains. He noticed what appeared to be a badge of office on the hat of the man in the sedan. Cha-gan, however, plucked at his arm, and hurried him away into the crowd.
“That was one of the Lily of the Court officials,” he whispered excitedly. “There are too many in the city, master, to please me. We may yet be strung up on the bone-crackers of their torture chambers, you and I!”
“Dog of the devil, Chagan,” growled Khlit, “I knew not you could be so easily frightened!”
“I—frightened?” Chagan stared his amazement. “Nay, but this place reeks of evildoing. I am sick for the plains and a horse.” That evening, when the lanterns were hung outside the doors, Chagan came hurrying into the walled garden where Khlit was sitting nursing his sword.
“The beggars in the marketplace who have come from outside say that Li Chan Ko, the magician of Li Jusong, has told a prophecy about Shankiang. They say the mandarins of the city are debating shutting the gates on Li Jusong, for the men of Han bear them no good will.”
The next day the city was rife with talk and the crowds thronged the streets. Khlit could not understand what was said, but he realized that the people were agitated. Bodies of infantry ill disciplined and worse armed were hurrying back and forth. The junks completely blocked the river.
The prospect of the city shutting its gates to the coming army had not occurred to Khlit. He was not aware of feuds between the men of Han and Wang under the Dragon Emperor and the outlying districts. He made his way to the southern gate in time to see an imposing cavalcade of mandarins and priests trot forth and the doors swing to behind them.
“They are emissaries going to Li Jusong,” Chagan explained after the sword-bearer had questioned a bystander, a small, brighteyed archer clad in complete mail with an ax slung at his belt.
The latter swung around at Chagan's words and stared at the two curiously.
“Ho there, those are foreign words,” he chuckled, closing one eye, “but fear not, my tongue does not wag by itself. Here, it pays to say little. One dog barks at nothing and the rest bark at him.” “What man are you, archer?” questioned Khlit, for the other spoke a Tatar dialect that he understood.
“Nobody's man, uncle, but his who pays the most. I am a wanderer of Manchu blood, at present in the employ of the mandarins
of this cursed city. Men call me Arslan; I am captain of a ten of archers on the walls. Likewise, a lusty singer. Harken—harken.” Arslan lifted a melodious voice:
An arbor of flowers,
And a kettle of wine.
Alas! in the bowers No companion is mine.
Then the moon sheds her rays On my goblet and me,
And my shadow betrays We’re a party of three.
Though the moon cannot swallow Her share of the grog And my shadow must follow Whenever I jog.
See the moon—how she glances Response to my song.
See my shadow—it dances So lightly along.
While sober I feel You are both my good friends.
When drunken I reel Our boon fellowship ends.
“By the looks of things,” muttered Chagan, “your arrows will be flying before long and by the same token a Lily-handled dagger will stick from your shoulder blades.”
“Not mine,” laughed Arslan. “For I am stationed on the Tower of the Five Falcons, which is loftiest of all on the walls. Harken, wrestler—you bear a goodly sword. If there is fighting, come to the Tower of the Five Falcons. Then you will see some pretty bow-and-arrow work!”
“Aye, we may come to toss your carcass over the walls, cousin Arslan,” growled Chagan.
But the archer turned away
with a laugh. They heard him humming to himself as he disappeared in the crowd.
When they returned to the shop, Wen Shu had left his work and was laying a sacrifice of food and drink before his ancestral tablet in the sanctuary of the garden. More troops moved through the streets that night, and the gates were kept shut.
By the following night the embassy had not returned. Rumors were rife that the mandarins had been held as hostages and that Li Jusong had ordered the gates to be opened, and all soldiers to be disarmed. The cavalry of the Chinese general were reported in the suburbs. Khlit and Chagan slept that night in their boots and with their swords under their hands.
VI
At dawn, the Kang Mu relates, the gates of Shankiang were closed. Khlit was not able to return to the walls. When he tried to force through the crowds in the streets he was thrown back by armed bodies of horsemen. Shots were heard, and a wail went up from the women of Shankiang. Chagan and Khlit had agreed that in case the town resisted they would take to their horses, and await the arrival of Li Jusong. It might be possible to mingle with the ranks of the Chinese if they entered the place. But neither he nor Chagan was prepared for what followed.
They were unable to reach the stable and had drawn to one side of the street under an archway. The crowd surged back on them as a mounted man rode down the street. His armor was torn and he was without a weapon. Two footmen struggled to keep up with the rider by clinging to his stirrups. They also were without arms, although their badges showed them to be retainers of the mandarins. They were heading for the river.
After the rider had passed the people began to run into the houses. Merchants with their families in sedan chairs, accompanied by servants, thronged down the alleys that led to their junks. The wailing of women rose higher. From time to time bursts of musket shots sounded from the south. A bareheaded bonze with streaming garments came panting by them. When Chagan caught the latter's long sleeve to detain him, the priest tore himself loose and ran on with half his coat left in the Tatar's hand.
The street was nearly deserted by now and Khlit motioned Chagan to resume their course to the stable. Like the Tatar, he felt the need of a horse between his legs, for he was not used to fighting on foot. They had not gone a dozen paces, however, when a group of horsemen came galloping toward them. They barely had time to jump aside into a doorway before the riders swept past like a torrent, several gorgeously robed mandarins in their midst.
“They go like men who want to save their skins,” growled Chagan. “Ha!”
He pointed after the horsemen. In the center of the alley a short distance away lay a quivering heap of silk. The bonze had not been quick to jump aside.
New crowds hurrying down to the junks barred the way to the stable and the two were forced to turn back to the candlemaker's shop. They found Wen Shu with his wife and daughter in their best robes sitting quietly in the closed shop. With a hurried question, Chagan left the candlemaker and followed Khlit to their room.
“To eat,” said Khlit calmly, suiting the action to the word. “The walls of the town are strong. Li Jusong will have a hard time breaking in.”
Chagan shook his head moodily at this, but, observing that Khlit was making away with the best portions of the rice and fish, he fell to eating with the Cossack. That done, Chagan stretched full length on the floor and was soon asleep. Khlit watched by the window.
It was impossible now to leave the city by the walls. And Khlit was loath to join the mad rush for the junks. He waited for darkness, when it might be possible to venture abroad and learn more of what was happening. The sound of musketry presently ceased. The pandemonium in the street was quieter. Khlit heard the beat of horses' hoofs.
Looking out, he saw a troop of riders in blue coats with banners trotting down the street in good order, four abreast. The sight reassured him somewhat, and he shook Chagan into wakefulness.
“These are better warriors than the others we have seen,” he observed to the Tatar.
“Aye, your eye is keen, master,” chuckled Chagan; “those are some of Li Jusong's Leo Tung men.”
He disappeared down the stairs leading to the shop, returning after a moment. Stretching his giant arms wide, he gave a huge yawn and shook himself like a dog.
“It was a good sleep,” he growled. “Come, Khlit, lord, we had best be stirring or we will be smoked out like dead fish. Wen Shu says that the city has fallen. Some of the infantry held the southern gate for a while, but the followers of the Lily treacherously opened the eastern gate to Li Jusong's cavalry. It will be an evil night for Shankiang and you and I will have work for our swords.” Khlit buckled his belt tighter and filled his pipe with tobacco. When the pipe was lighted to his satisfaction he turned to Cha-gan.
“What kind of men are these, Chagan?” he said, sweeping his arm in the direction of the city. “The walls could have kept Li Jusong out for a year—”
“In Tatary, yes, master. But in China there is always a traitor and a back door. Also a dagger in the kidneys of a true fighter. Come, I will show you proof of what has happened.”
Khlit followed Chagan down to the shop, where the Tatar paused, pointing grimly to where Wen Shu sat cross-legged on the floor, bowing back and forth in grief. All the candles and lanterns of the shop had been lighted. Incense burned at the ancestral shrine. Flowers were arranged in the vases.
Clearly outlined in the many-colored glow, Khlit saw the figures of the wife and daughter of Wen Shu. Dressed in their dainty garments, the two women hung from a rafter over the head of the candlemaker. Silken cords were around their white throats, and fastened to the rafter.
“He will wait there until a Han sword severs his neck also,” explained Chagan. “These people allow themselves to be slain like sheep once a city is taken. Still, Wen Shu has the satisfaction of seeing his women dead before the warriors of Li Jusong get here. I know, for I have carved up many like him.”
With that Chagan led the way into the street and Khlit followed silently. Evening was falling, but the sky was lighted by the glow of numerous fires. The smell of smoke was in the air. Khlit led Chagan into another street on the way to the stable. Here bodies were lying.
Chagan took no notice of them, but Khlit stooped at the first one and, drawing his curved sword, dipped it into the pool of blood beside the body, which was that of a child. The Tatar, seeing this, did likewise, with a grin.
“Better to be thought wolves than sheep, Chagan,” said Khlit grimly.
The prospect of danger had brought a light to his eyes and a flush to his lean cheeks. With bared swords the two passed on, keeping close together, in the direction of their horses. As they went they saw new evidence of the coming of Li Jusong.
By a many-storied pagoda which was blazing to its summit they saw a heap of bodies. The unfortunates who had taken refuge in the temple had been forced by the flames to come out, only to meet the swords of the Han warriors. So much Khlit read in the sight of the bodies, for he was old in the ways of warfare. He had stooped over the forms, when one of them, a slender girl, struggled upright and faced him.
The child was wild-eyed with fright, and her trembling hands gripped her throat. She stared blindly at Khlit, plainly expecting his sword to descend on her. Chagan took her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet with rough good nature.
“Get you into that alley, dollface,” he bellowed, pointing to a dark opening at one side of the burning building, “or Li Jusong's butchers will sharpen their blades—ha! Watch, Khlit, lord!”
A group of pikemen had run into the open space from another street and approached them. Chagan gave the girl a hasty shove, as if to cast her down among the bodies again. But instead of obeying him she pulled the form of a small boy to his feet beside her. The infant seemed to be wounded, for he was dripping blood. Holding the boy close to her, the girl remained motionless.
The pikemen had come up to them, and one of them questioned Chagan roughly. The sword-bearer made no reply, not understanding what the other
said. Before Khlit realized what had happened one of the pikemen had thrust his weapon into the girl's side. She sank to her knees with a low moan.
The boy gave a cry of anguish and clutched the hand of the soldier. With a laugh the pikeman wrenched his spear loose from the girl and wiped it clean on the boy's garments. His half-dozen companions closed threateningly around Khlit and Chagan.
At the same instant Khlit's curved sword flashed up. It whirled swiftly against the throat of the pikeman. The soldier dropped beside the girl, his head hanging from his shoulder by a strip of flesh.
The spears of the others were lifted at Khlit, who had slashed the face of a second man with the same stroke that slew the murderer of the girl. He sprang back, only to see three of the menacing pikes knocked to the ground by a stroke of Chagan's huge sword, with its foot-wide blade. He warded off the stroke of the fourth man, drawing a pistol at the same time.
Khlit discharged his pistol at the waist of the man who had struck at him, and turned to Chagan. His sword was lifted for a second stroke, but he stayed his hand. Chagan's blade, falling again, had dashed two of the men to earth with split heads. The survivor had dropped his pike and taken to his heels. He did not go far, however.
With an oath Chagan caught up one of the pikes at his feet. Dropping his heavy sword for an instant, he poised the spear and hurled it after the fugitive with all the strength of his long arm.
The weapon caught the man in the small of the back and he dropped to his knees.
“The hunting had begun, Chagan,” cried Khlit, “but other dogs are coming. Follow me!”
With a backward glance at groups of Chinese who were running toward them from each end of the street Khlit turned and dived into the alley that Chagan had pointed out to the girl. The sword-bearer pounded at his heels.
VII
The alley was shut off from the light from the burning pagoda, but the sky was bright with the general conflagration of the city. Khlit saw that he was running down a passage between large buildings. He caught sight of an opening at his right and turned aside. Two dim objects about the height of a man confronted him. These he recognized as the stone drums of the city, now deserted.