by Harold Lamb
“Was that all the tale?” he asked.
“That was all—save that Chagan said the khans had assembled this side of the Kerulon to watch the movements of Li Jusong. They have all of their power there, with additional parties of Tun-gusi and Manchus—my comrades. Would I were at the Kerulon camp, four days' march from here, and not on top of this cursed tower. You have the bearing and speech of one accustomed to command, uncle. What is your name and people?”
“I am Khlit of the Cossacks.”
“A Cossack? I have not heard of that horde. Chagan must have lied when he said you were a Tatar. At all events, you fight well, and that is enough.”
Khlit, who had been pondering, turned to Arslan moodily.
“Think you the khans will march east?” he asked.
“Nay,” Arslan growled sleepily, “how do I know? They will quarrel among themselves, more like, and waste their power in feuds. Such is their way. When they have a leader as they had at Altai Haiten, they are invincible—”
“Li Jusong is a shrewd general,” debated Khlit. “He will not move from Shankiang to attack the khans, for he knows that they will quarrel.”
Khlit's head dropped on his chest. He was well content to have the khans know from Chagan of the reply he had made to Li Jusong. Since they had sent a man to watch him, it was well that they should know he had been faithful to them—to the blood of his ancestor. He recalled Chagan's misgivings when he had come to Shankiang with grim amusement. Truly, the sword-bearer had had some grounds for his suspicion.
A movement on the part of Arslan caused Khlit to turn suddenly. The archer was wide awake now, and in his face was a look of wonder. His hand was stretched out toward Khlit's sword, fingers touching the hilt. Instinctively the Cossack struck down the archer's hand. Arslan drew back, but there was no anger in his face.
“Pardon,” he said, “I did not mean ill. The sun is up—and I saw the hilt of your sword for the first time. It is like the sword of the White Khans. Does it—is it yours? Was it your father's?”
He remained sunk in musing, but Arslan arose presently. Removing his cloak, the Manchu laid it over Khlit, propping it against the stone rampart so as to keep the snow from him. When Khlit looked up at this, Arslan bent down on one knee.
“You need sleep, master, for you are weary. I will watch.” He looked up anxiously. “If my tongue has given offense, slay me. I spoke in folly, not knowing who you were.”
So Arslan took up his watch on the Tower of the Five Falcons. And presently, through the falling snow he saw the figure of a mounted man opposite the walls. The rider was some distance away, only partly visible in the storm. Other horsemen appeared beside him.
Arslan knew that parties of Li Jusong's men were scattered over the outlying districts in pillage. But these were different. He could see their pointed helmets and lances behind their backs. As he watched they wheeled their horses and vanished.
XVI
Khlit slept soundly. Worn out from his week in the temple he lay quiet while the snow piled up on the tower. Little by little, however, he began to be aware of an increasing clamor under him. His dreams were disturbed by the sound of horses galloping, and trumpets. He stirred and sat up, pushing aside the fur cloak that Arslan had stretched over him.
By the position of the sun he saw that he had slept away half the day. The snow had ceased and the plain around Shankiang with the roads and outlying houses visible from the top of the tower were carpeted with white. Khlit groaned as he set up, for his body ached from cold. He saw Arslan sitting near him, stringing his bow and sorting out his arrows. The archer was humming to himself.
The swords will be a-shining And bowstrings twang,
Where the banners are entwining These men of Wang.
Khlit sprang to his feet and looked down at the walls of Shankiang. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with an oath. Surely a change had taken place in the city. Across the square under the tower squadrons of horse were galloping in haste. An uproar resounded in the streets. Chinese infantry were running up the stone steps leading to the summit of the walls and taking their stations along the battlements.
“What is this?” growled Khlit. “Why did you not waken me?” “Sleep was best, Lord,” responded the Manchu, “for soon we shall need all our wits. Aye, the Dragon is rousing itself from its drunken sleep of the past week. Look!”
He pointed to the northern gate, which was visible at some distance from the tower. A horde of horsemen were rushing through the doors, a motley crowd of soldiers, along the road where Khlit and Chagan had come to the city. As Khlit watched, he saw the massive gates close, shutting out the fugitives. A wail arose from the horsemen barred from the city.
What did this mean? The city was alarmed, and the Chinese were assembling on the walls. They had closed the gates hastily, shutting out some of their own men. Khlit cast a keen glance over the streets. He saw that confusion reigned.
The sentinels were dozing.
To arms they sprang!
The toils are fast enclosing Our men of Wang!
Thus Arslan chanted. As he did so he pointed out over the plains. Khlit drew in his breath sharply. In the distance a dark mass was moving toward Shankiang. Spears glinted in the sun. Along the highroad a second mass was advancing at rapid pace. By the bank of a river a third body was moving. Over a hill to the west still another dark line was flooding down the slope toward the walls. Banners were to be seen in the midst of the oncoming hordes, which were composed of horsemen. Even at the distance he recognized the banners.
“The khans have left the Kerulon,” he said to Arslan. “They must have met and defeated the detachments of Li Jusong which were out in the country.”
“Aye,” responded the archer with a chuckle, “now we will see, you and I, Lord, the Dragon penned in its lair. The hunters are the hunted. Either a miracle has come to pass, or the khans have learned how Li Jusong's men were scattered in pillage and have come to strike before the Dragon can prepare to defend the city.”
XVII
Old in the ways of the battle, Khlit noted the events that took place within the walls with a critical eye. During the next few hours he saw every detail of the tableau that was spread before him. And he wondered at what he saw.
The Chinese had been taken by surprise. Plainly the Tatars had succeeded, as was their custom, in cutting off the outlying troops
before warning could reach the city. The mounted columns of the khans had not paused in their advance, and Li Jusong had barely had time to close the gates of Shankiang and order his men to the walls. The snowstorm had formed a screen for the movements of the khans during the last few hours. And the Chinese forces were disorganized by the sack of Shankiang.
So much Khlit reasoned to himself. He saw, however, that the walls of the city were high, and that cannon were ranged at intervals between the towers. The defenders were hurrying to the ramparts and crowding around the cannon. The uproar was incessant.
“It will take weeks for cannon to breach these walls,” he shouted to Arslan above the confusion. “And there are no traitors in the city to open a gate, as when Li Jusong besieged the place.”
Arslan paused in sorting his arrows long enough to stare curiously at Khlit.
“Have you ever seen your khans storm a city, lord? Nay, I think not. They have little use for cannon. From the time of Genghis Khan they have attacked a walled city in one way and one way only. Soon you will see how it is done. The Chinese know the manner of it. See—they are squealing about the cannon like a herd of cattle.”
Khlit leaned on the battlement of the tower and surveyed the Tatar forces which had advanced within easy gunshot of the walls. The foremost columns had paused to wait for the others to reach their line. The troops were mainly horsemen, with bowmen and others clinging to their stirrups.
The column directly opposite the Tower of the Five Falcons was headed by the banner of the Chakars. That advancing by the highway bore the Kallmark standard. Khlit thought that
the horsemen by the river carried the Hoshot banner, of Chepe Buga, the lean veteran of a hundred battles. There were other banners which he could not make out, but which were familiar to Arslan.
“Look!” cried the archer. “There is the Tungusi standard— from the mountains of the North. Aye, and there is the banner of my brother Manchu archers, from the highlands of Manchuria. Now there will be rare arrow work. Li Jusong will be begging a happy omen from Li Chan Ko, his magician, for here is all the Tatar power.”
Khlit made no response. He was spellbound by the sight before him. The Tatar host was greater than the army he had seen at the Kerulon. Each column must have contained twenty thousand warriors. There were five columns. The strength of Li Jusong, Khlit had heard, consisted of two hundred thousand men. But a good portion of these had been slain in the sack of the city. More had been caught beyond the walls. He saw the crowd of men outside the gate clamoring for admittance. In the face of the Tatar host the Chinese dared not open the gate to their comrades.
What had brought the Tatars to Shankiang? How had they buried the quarrels of the khans? Who was leading them to the attack?
Khlit felt his heart swell with pride. The hosts in front of him were of his blood. They were the finest warriors of Asia or Europe. They were the men whose standard he had carried at Altai Haiten. He longed to be in their ranks, with a horse under him.
A blast of trumpets interrupted his thoughts. He heard a shout arise from the Chinese on the walls. At the same instant, at the sound of the nacars the Tatar array started into movement. Every column was in motion toward the walls. The reports of cannon sounded from the city. But the pieces were ill aimed and little harm was done.
“Now you will see how the khans storm a city, uncle,” roared Arslan, in a fever of excitement.
The ranks of horsemen were moving faster now, to the sound of the nacars. A roar went up from thousands of throats. Over the entire plain in front of Shankiang the Tatar army spread, from the river to the hills on the west. Like a torrent they rushed toward the walls.
Khlit watched them with troubled eye. He had never seen such a thing as this. An army of cavalry was storming the high walls of a city, without cannon, without engines of siege, or preparation of any kind.
XVIII
The attack on Shankiang, says the Chinese history the Kang Mu, lasted for five hours, from noon to the setting of the sun. And for five hours there was no pause in the fury of the assault, or the slaughter on both sides.
Khlit, watching keenly, saw the first rank of horsemen gain the space below the walls, where the cannon of the defenders could not reach them. Then he saw that each of the leading horsemen bore a long ladder. No sooner had they reached the walls than a thousand ladders were raised, from the ground or from the backs of horses which were trained to remain still while this was done. Up these ladders swarmed the footmen who had been clinging to the stirrups of the riders.
Other ranks joined them and as fast as ladders were cast down others were raised. The sound of the nacars continued without ceasing, accompanied by the roar of the Tatar hordes, who struggled to gain a place under the walls. The archers and musketmen dropped back a short interval and covered the summit of the walls with a shower of arrows and bullets. The Manchu bowmen were skillful and their shafts exacted a heavy toll among the Chinese, who returned their fire desperately, striking down numbers of the attackers.
The unfortunate Chinese who had been caught without the gates were cut down to a man. Their bodies, with those of dead Tatars, were flung under the walls to form a rampart for the ladders. Not for a minute did the Tatars, utterly brave and reckless of loss, cease their efforts. As the piles of bodies grew, added to by slain horses, groups of ladders were raised at a time, fastened together by ropes, and these were not cast down.
Tatar swordsmen swarming up them grappled with the Chinese on the walls. At places Khlit saw the pointed helmets of the Tatars spread over the summit of the walls. At such times bodies of Chinese held in reserve hurried up the steps to the walls and engaged the besiegers. After stubborn fighting the walls would be cleared, only to be assaulted again by fresh men of the khans.
Although the attacking horsemen fought recklessly, Khlit noted that they carried on the assault in perfect order, and that the men followed their leaders with blind obedience. The Chinese, on the other hand, although well armed and skillful fighters, gave way at times to panic and rapidly lost all semblance of order.
Arslan, who had been plying his bow unsparingly at the Chinese on the wall under him, who had no opportunity to defend themselves against him, gave a shout and pointed to the wall on the west.
“Ho, uncle!” he cried, “we gain the wall yonder. A strip of it is bare of the Chinese dogs!”
Khlit saw that what the archer said was true. The Tatars had cleared a space of defenders and were fighting savagely to force the Chinese farther along the walls. Other ladders disgorged hel-meted swordsmen to swell their ranks. A party of Chinese under a man in the uniform of a high officer were raking the Tatars with musket fire from nearby housetops. A cannon on one of the towers cut swathes in their ranks, but still the swordsmen swarmed to the assault.
“Those are the Ordus of Hotai Khan, Arslan,” he cried in response, “but yonder are the men of Chepe Buga. There is where the Dragon will be struck.
“Hide of the devil!” swore Arslan in glee. “May the demons of purgatory devour me, but the Tatars are swimming the river.” Li Jusong had placed his men in junks there, but the speed of the Tatar attack had not given them time to tie the boats together. The horsemen were climbing from their mounts and swarming over the banks of the river. Some, in scows, had boarded the junks and turned the cannon of the vessels against the other junks.
Chepe Buga, crafty in battle, had struck the city in its weakest place—the river. Already his men had demoralized the crews of the junks and gained the bank. Khlit saw horsemen rushing through the streets of Shankiang toward the river quarter, led by Chinese mandarins.
Directly under the Tower of the Five Falcons a regiment of cavalry was crossing the square, led by Li Jusong himself. They galloped in good order with lances in their hands.
Khlit saw the general of Wan Li sitting quietly on his horse, watching the cavalry pass. At his side among his followers was the blind Li Chan Ko, his face tranquil amid the uproar.
XIX
Arslan pointed at the cavalry. “Leo Tung men, and good soldiers all,” he muttered. “Li Jusong has saved them to strike at any who entered the walls. Ho! What is that?”
From the western wall a loud cry echoed which ran from tower to tower. Arslan listened attentively, and turned to Khlit, a grim light in his eye.
“The western gate is forced, lord,” he said. “The Tatar horsemen are in the streets. Soon they will be at the rear of Li Jusong's men. Look!”
Li Jusong had forced his horse into the ranks of horsemen, motioning them back from their course. Even the general, however, could not check the regiments of cavalry in full gallop. Some hundreds halted. Those who had passed continued on their way toward the river. The news that the western gate had fallen spread panic among the defenders of the wall under the Tower of the Five Falcons.
The Chinese turned and fled down the steps to the streets. A torrent of Tatars poured after them. A swift glance showed Khlit that where the Ordus had been fighting the cannon was silenced and the musketeers had vanished from the housetops. Chepe Buga's men still swarmed against the riverbank.
Li Jusong with his handful of cavalry turned back to the menaced western quarter. But few of the infantry followed them. The streets leading to the south, on which side the Tatars had not attacked, were filled with a panic-stricken throng of Chinese. A wail went up that drowned the clamor of the nacars.
The sun was touching the horizon on the east. The dark mass of Tatar horsemen that had been outside the walls was flooding into the doomed city by the northern and the western gates. The cannon on the walls were silent. In the stree
ts of the city a hideous tumult arose.
Khlit caught sight of a score of horsemen galloping recklessly back through the square under the tower. It was Li Jusong, returning with what was left of his men. The general halted at sight of the oncoming Tatars and wheeled his horse into a street leading to the south. His followers formed around him, trampling down the fugitives on foot. Like a hurricane they swept through the street and vanished.
Arslan unstrung his bow. Khlit nodded understandingly.
“The city has fallen,” he said, absently. His gaze was fixed on one face among the corpses in the snow, and the dead horses. The first gleam of moonlight had shown him this face—Li Chan Ko's. The magician's prophecy had come to pass.
XX
It was after the sun had set, and the pale moonlight had flooded the snow-covered streets of Shankiang, lighting the dark stains that spread over the snow, when a group of riders with torches arrived before the entrance to the Tower of the Five Falcons. The tall form of Chepe Buga and a younger man led the horsemen, who halted before the entrance. The khan of the Hoshots was bleeding from a sword cut over the forehead, and Berang, the younger man, bore a broken spear as his only weapon. Behind the two followed Chagan, his face drawn with pain from his broken leg. The two gazed curiously at the ring of stiff bodies that lay around the door of the tower. It was here, they had learned from Chagan, that Khlit had been seen during the assault.
Chepe Buga started and wiped the blood from his eyes as he saw a tall figure emerge from the narrow door, pushing aside the bodies that checked it. Another followed, but it was Khlit who drew the eyes of the Tatars. He stood with folded arms before the tower. Chepe Buga and Berang dismounted from their horses.
“Lord,” said Chepe Buga, and there was respect in his deep voice, “we heard that you had lived through the battle and were in this tower. We came, as soon as we could leave our men, to seek you.”