by Harold Lamb
The huntsmen scanned the men of the Togra with the searching glances of those whose lives are at stake yet who hope little. It was clear that Dokadur Khan was not pleased at their coming.
“Have you no more men than these?” said Khlit suddenly. “I sent you a warning to be ready. These men are not enough.” Dokadur Khan grunted in sheer surprise. The Cossack had spoken like a leader who finds fault with a subordinate. Yet the Khirghiz saw that he had only seven riders with him and had come fleeing for his life.
“I have thrice this number,” he assured Khlit; then he scowled, fearing to lose dignity before his men. “My sentries tell me you are followed by the Chinese. The Togra is no place for doomed men. Your archer lied to me. Why should I not give you to the Chinese—since he has lied?”
In spite of himself he had asked the question. Khlit had not the manner of a hunted man. And Dokadur Khan found it hard to forget the reputation of the Cossack leader.
“They will be here within the hour,” he continued as Khlit was silent. “Already they form for attacking the defiles. We will bind you and give you to them, for thus we can save ourselves
from attack and our villages from fire. I did not bid you come to the Togra with yonder hounds at your heels.”
A murmur of assent from his men greeted these words. Arslan frowned. It was clear that the chieftain was excited, even frightened and thus dangerous. The huntsmen had dismounted and were watching Khlit.
The Cossack was still gazing at Dokadur Khan fixedly. Abruptly he laughed, and Arslan took a deep breath of surprise.
“We must make our peace with the Chinese,” scowled Doka-dur Khan. “We have no quarrel with them.”
“In my first visit,” said Khlit slowly, “I marked you as one light of wit, yet I did not think the leader of a thousand men was altogether a fool. I know not if that be true. Answer me a question, Dokadur Khan. Know you why the men of the Dragon seek our lives?”
“It matters not.”
“Nay, it matters much. They believe, falsely, that we have slain Wan Li. But they believe.”
In spite of himself the Khirghiz gaped.
“Wan Li—the Son of Heaven—slain?”
Khlit nodded grimly.
“Ask these men who came with me. The sedan-chair of the Lord of Ten Thousand Years was set fire to this dawn. There was a great killing of those around him at the time. By the speed of our horses we escaped.”
The importance of the news was beginning to leak into the thick skull of the khan.
“And you rode here,” he growled. “A dog without home or friends. Nay, you are accursed now. We must surely give you up.”
“How?”
“Dog of the devil! I will see to it myself.”
“And admit the Chinese to the Togra?” Khlit laughed again, and Arslan's black eyes gleamed, for he thought he saw light. “Nay, then you are altogether a fool, Dokadur Khan. Think you
the men of the Dragon will stay their hand when they have slain us? Is the killing of an emperor so little a thing? Will they leave you and your villages unharmed? You know it is not so.”
The khan glanced down the ravine blackly. He realized the truth of what Khlit said. The huntsmen of the Cossack were much like his own men in race and appearance. Moreover, his own reputation with the Chinese was hardly above suspicion. Once in the Togra, the Chinese would undoubtedly slay right and left until their blood-thirst was appeased.
“If we give you up and flee to the upper defiles of the Togra Nor, they will weary of the pursuit in time.”
But in the eyes of Dokadur Khan and his men there was the glint of fear. They knew the numbers and strength of the men of Wan Li. In any case, their lot would be hard, and many would die.
Khlit leaned forward in his saddle and spoke quietly.
“Then you will lose the man who can aid you. I am that man. Fool! Do you think my coming of itself brought the men of Wei Chung hither? Nay, they would have come in any case, for the eunuch must have planned to slay hundreds of men on the frontier to bear out his scheme—to throw the blame for Wan Li's death on the bandits. I alone know something that will protect you and your men and their women. If you give me up, your hope of safety will be gone. For then I will not tell you what I know. Choose and choose quickly, for the Chinese are approaching the passes in force.”
Dokadur Khan pretended to weigh the words of Khlit, while Arslan and the huntsmen watched without seeming to do so. In reality the mind of the Togra chief was tumultuous with uncertainty and fear. He had never been called upon to face the united strength of the Chinese forces. The fact that they were riding upon the defiles excited and flurried him. A bold enough man where a small barranca was concerned, the magnitude of the coming event confused him.
The calmness of Khlit further puzzled Dokadur Khan. How was it that the Cossack was untroubled, unless he knew of a secret reason by which he could win safety? It was true that the men of Wei Chung would lay waste the outlaw settlements of the Togra. And Dokadur Khan had no place to flee; no ally except Khlit.
“What is it that you know?” he demanded.
And Khlit knew that he had won his cause. But the way was not yet cleared.
“That which will save us—you and me and our men. What I know, no one else knows.”
Dokadur Khan stirred impatiently.
“Already some Chinese have been slain in the Togra,” added Khlit.
One of the Khirghiz riders who had been with Arslan spoke. “It was the Manchu archer.”
“Do the men of the Dragon know the difference?” asked Arslan logically, and by Khlit's silence he knew he had said the right thing.
The bandit khan scowled the more, and his followers swore. After this, they knew, there would be no escape from the Chinese.
“Nay, Khlit,” he asked, “speak. What is your thought? There is no time to be lost.”
The Cossack drew his whip slowly through his hand.
“We did not slay Wan Li, Dokadur Khan. The plot was the work of others. Of Wei Chung and his allies. They pursue us—and you. But other factions of the Dragon men do not yet know what is the truth of the event this morning. They would not slay us until they know what we know. From them we have not so much to fear. If Wei Chung's guilt is proved, we are free men. I speak of the other Ming nobles and especially Li Yuan, the astrologer.”
“Would you have us go to Li Yuan, the whole of us with women and children! Nay, how may that be? The men of Wei Chung are already on three sides of the Togra, and they number five times our strength. Li Yuan is at the Great Wall.”
“By now, at the news of Wan Li's death, he will be riding toward the Liao yamen.”
“Even thus, how may we reach him?”
“In due time. That was not my plan.”
The men of the Togra cursed uneasily. Each moment increased their fear, a fact which did not escape Khlit.
“Harken, Dokadur Khan,” he continued. “My thought was that a picked few of us can win through the forces of Wei Chung tonight with darkness. The rest can hold the Togra. The ravines are well nigh impregnable if well held. Have you a place where the women and children can be concealed?”
“Aye, a rocky gorge near the lake. It is reached by a hidden tunnel.”
“It is well.” Khlit snapped his whip as if reaching a decision. “But this must be a fair bargain, Dokadur Khan. My men must have fresh horses and good ones. There must be no further talk of lies or treachery. We are of one race, we plainsmen, and the yellow faces are our enemies. If we hold together, we will win free. But you must do as I order.”
The slant eyes of the khan narrowed as he considered this. Here was a request that endangered his own prestige. If Khlit took the reins of leadership and was successful, his men would hold him in contempt. The Cossack shrewdly guessed what was in his mind.
“We will do more than win free,” he said. “We will gain spoil the equal of three years of your raids. I promised it, and it will come to pass. Thus your men will be rewarded.”
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“Where is this spoil?”
“The Golden Tomb. The gateway is unearthed.”
To a man they stared at him, and Dokadur Khan gnawed his mustache. How might they go to the Golden Tomb when their own lives were in danger?
“The Togra is a natural fortress,” explained Khlit, who was watching him. “None can defend it so well as you. Arrange the defense as best suits you. The Chinese attack upon us, under Wei Chung, will draw them all to the Togra. Wei Chung dares not turn back until we are slain, for we are witnesses against him when any can be found to hear us. In the excitement the Golden Tomb will be forgotten. It will be lightly guarded. With darkness I will take a hundred men, pass through the ranks of Wei Chung and ride to the tomb.”
“I will go with you,” meditated the khan.
“As pleases you. Tomorrow, when we have gained the ear of Li Yuan and the nobles, the attack on the Togra will be given up, for Wei Chung and Ch'en Ti-jun must hasten back to the Lady Li, their ally, if suspicion is aroused against them.”
Dokadur Khan hesitated. If Khlit went with them, they need not suspect treachery from him, because he would be at their mercy. Yet the prospect of the ride across the frontier troubled him. For the third time Khlit guessed at his thought.
“In the Golden Tomb,” he added, “is the wealth of an emperor, riches enough to load a dozen horses. We will take the extra horses with us. And at the Golden Tomb we may win safety from the wiles of Wei Chung.”
“It will be dangerous,” objected the Khirghiz, who nevertheless saw the eyes of his men glitter.
“Nay, Khan,” growled Arslan suddenly, “if you follow not the plan of the Curved Saber, our heads shall decorate the saddles of Wei Chung's men in any case. Is there no danger in that? Are we sleek sheep to wait in a huddle for the happy dispatch of the butcher?”
A growl of agreement rose from the bandits. Dokadur Khan lifted his hand in decision.
“It shall be as you say, Khlit.”
“Remember, Dokadur Khan,” warned the Cossack, “there will be many slain. This is not a game of children. Ho, men of the Togra, have you good heart for kingly spoil and the clash of sharp swords? Will you put your strength against the evil brain of the eunuch?”
“Aye!” shouted those within hearing. “We be of good heart,” added one. “We will follow the Curved Saber!” shouted another, the one who had been with Arslan.
“It is well,” said Khlit, satisfied. “Now, do you see to the defense of the ravines, Dokadur Khan. You have skill at that. I and those with me will sleep until the shadows are long in the afternoon, for we are weary. Then waken us, having picked a hundred good men.”
And Arslan wondered to himself. He had seen a man worn and hunted, with only seven followers, win mastery over a thousand who wished him ill rather than good. And he had watched the plan of that man put into action over the objections of the khan of the Togra. Yet he had a doubt. Were they to face Li Yuan, loaded with the spoil of the Golden Tomb? If not, how were they to win back to safety with their burden? And what of the Lady Li, who was still at the yamen with many followers?
The six who had ridden with Khlit to the Togra had not slept in thirty hours, and they quickly fell into a doze after retreating a short distance into the ravines to a cleared place which served as a meeting spot for the tribesmen. The Cossack, however, did not join them until he had seen to the selection of eight fresh horses for himself and his followers and the preparation of a good meal against their waking. Arslan aided him in this, for the confusion in the place was great, owing to the preparations of Dokadur Khan.
Khlit did not rest until everything had been arranged to his satisfaction. This done, he seated himself on his saddle, back against a sheltering rock, and was asleep on the moment. Arslan noticed that a small urchin of the encampment stood beside Khlit, holding his horse, and refused to move. When he questioned the boy, the Khirghiz told him that he had once guided Khlit out of the Togra and was waiting in hopes of being taken on the expedition that night.
“Ho, small warrior,” chuckled the archer, “we take no one who cannot quaff a bucket of the Ming men's blood. But, if the jade Fortune blesses my bow, you shall have the skull of one Ch'en Ti-jun to play with ere nightfall.”
With that he swaggered off to his horse, and sought the ranks of the tribesmen.
Dokadur Khan was a skilled leader at this form of warfare. Moreover, his men were fired by hatred of those who had invaded their fastness. It was too late to try to hold the entrances to the Togra, but within these Dokadur Khan had distributed his men in ambush at strategic points.
Arslan knew that the narrow, rocky gorges would afford little cover to the Chinese. Few trees grew in the place, and frequently the ravines contained streams up which Wei Chung's soldiers must force their way, coming as often as not to the blind barrier of a waterfall. The tribesmen knew the ground thoroughly and used their knowledge to good advantage.
Attracted by scattered shots, Arslan made his way to a height where a score of the Khirghiz held one of the main approaches of the Togra. Dismounting, the Manchu saw that the ranks of the mandarins' troops had been thinned by the arrows of those above and they were giving ground in confusion. Their few pistols and arquebuses, badly aimed, were not sufficient to annoy the concealed bowmen.
“This is but idle sport,” laughed Arslan. “Come, we will make music for our friends below.”
Unslinging the guitar from which he rarely parted, he struck the strings and sang, exposing himself recklessly.
In the land of the mighty bowmen The Ming men come,
To find a doughty foeman In his Togra home.
Heedless of the pistol balls which sped near him, he composed another verse.
The fox is in his burrow,
O wise Wei Chung!
Red wine will warm the furrow Of the Liao Tung.
He ceased his chant as the scattered soldiers in the ravine below gave back against the cliffs. The men beside him peered out from their concealment in time to see an array of armor-clad footmen advancing through the ranks of the routed horsemen. Over their vital parts they wore heavy-quilted pads. At their head went a banner of one of the armies of Wan Li.
“Oho,” muttered Arslan, unslinging his bow, “here we have a goose that will require another kind of plucking. Fall to, good sirs, with your arrows and decorate yonder quilts for me.”
The archers plied their shafts. A few of the foot-soldiers fell, struck in the face and throat, but the majority passed on, closing up their files. These were not the mounted rabble of the hunt, but paid soldiers of the emperor, intent, as they believed, on avenging his death.
“Drop your bows, good sirs,” directed Arslan, noting the ill-success of the arrows, “and we will make cannon of ourselves and bump the helmets of the gentry beneath us.”
The tribesmen caught his idea and fell to with a will, some of the older men and boys who had been hiding behind them dragging up the stones and the archers launching them over the cliff. Several rocks, bounding down the ravine, did good execution, but the trained soldiery parted their ranks to let them roll through and pressed forward, although more slowly.
Even Arslan's high good humor, bred by the prospect of battle, was beginning to fail when there was a shout from his companions. Down the ravine he saw a body of horsemen galloping, led by one of the lieutenants of Dokadur Khan. The mounted men struck the first ranks of the Chinese and crumpled them, pressing them back on those in the rear. Their armor was poor protection against the expert swords of the riders, and they gave ground.
It was not the custom of the tribesmen to continue such a hot hand-to-hand conflict, and they withdrew presently, leaving the Chinese badly cut up by their charge. The invaders halted where they were, waiting the coming of reinforcements before renewing their efforts. Seeing this, Arslan mounted and left the spot, seeking Ch'en Ti-jun.
Much the same kind of conflict was raging in the other ravines, the tribesmen inflicting heavy losses on the Chinese and w
ithdrawing slowly when overmatched. The struggle was bitter, neither side asking quarter, but it was difficult for the Chinese to gain the heights as they were ignorant of the paths up the rocks. Whenever they attempted to climb the cliffs, old men and boys of the Togra greeted them with rocks and spear points. By late afternoon the Chinese had won forward only a few miles at a heavy cost.
Arslan noted the success of his new companions with high glee. He was untiring in his efforts to locate Ch'en Ti-jun, and by diligent inquiries he was finally successful. The lieutenant of Wei Chung was directing one of the attacks against the heights from his sedan-chair, attended by a few followers. Arslan rode to the spot at once, and his slant eyes glittered evilly as he looked down from a nest of rocks upon the gilt chair of the eunuch.
The distance, however, was too great for an arrow. Arslan surveyed the scene before him carefully. The bulk of the Chinese soldiery were pressing forward with shouts and cries into one of the passes beside him, harassed as they went by the vindictive tribesmen. Other groups of the eunuch's horsemen were acting apparently as a reserve some distance in the rear. The sedan-chair rested in the center of a natural amphitheater, surrounded by rocky heights through which ran the pass the Chinese were assaulting.
The smile faded from the Manchu's dark face as he unslung his bow and saw to his saddle girths. Gripping his steppe pony with his knees, he spurred forward quickly. The snorting horse slid and sprang downward among the rocks. Arslan kept his eyes fixed on the yellow sedan. So far he was unobserved.
“The philosophers have said,” he muttered piously, “that with the slayer of his brother alive a man may not rest unavenged. May I prosper in my honorable purpose!”
He was now clear of the last of the rocks and spurred his mount forward. A shout told him that the men around Ch'en Ti-jun had seen him. As he rode, he fitted arrow to bowstring and bent low in the saddle. Other shafts flew around him. The servants seized spears and swords and ran toward him. But the experienced archer swerved his horse, to pass the sedan at a short distance from it.