Path of the Eclipse

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  A fortnight ago, during the first real storm of winter, one of the local customs inspectors discovered that an innkeeper has been passing messages to the Mongol spies. This despicable act was related in the Tribunal and the man has been sentenced to death by exposure, both for the sake of expediency and as a warning to any others who may seek to enrich themselves by such treason. We have said a Mass for the repose of the wretch’s soul, as Our Lord has admonished us to do, but I must add that most of us believe that the criminal is far from redemption.

  The last news we heard of the outer world came some little while ago from a foreigner passing through Lan-Chow to the Mao-T’ou stronghold. He informed our District Magistrate that he had seen evidence of Mongol raids at two locations along the road here, and had lost one of his three outriders in a skirmish with a band of outlaws, though he could not say whether they were Mongols or highwaymen. From him we have been led to understand that the Paulist Church in the West is filled with tribulation, just as Cha Ts’ai prophesied so long ago. It comes from departing from the words of the master and listening instead to the disciple. We will pray that they may be guided out of the darkness of the soul they have made for themselves, and remember at last that the Way of God is found through the brotherhood of creatures, and the dedication to those principles for which Our Lord died. In this, certainly, we are in agreement with our Taoist brothers.

  We have agreed to provide this Shih Ghieh-Man with more information as we get it from the other churches in the Empire, and he has said that he will send word to us if he learns anything of importance.

  The signs are for a long, wet winter here, which will bring more snow into the mountains, and will block the passes until late in spring. Already travelers are being warned of the danger of venturing too far into T’u-Bo-T’e, as the Land of Snows is treacherous at the best of times. The farmers in the district have been saying that they are apprehensive about their winter crops because of the heavy rains, and it is true that onions and cabbages are not as plentiful as they were at this time last year. Many valleys to the north of us were visited with blight, and as a result there is little grain for them to store away. If the Mongols have suffered equally, they will return with the ferocity of hunger when the rains stop. It has been suggested that all farmers establish a system of sentries so that they will not be taken unaware if Temujin’s horsemen should decide to come into the western mountains again, which seems all too likely.

  We have agreed to send three of our congregation into Tien-Du and K’i-Shi-Mi-Rh to discover if any of our churches still endure there. If our future is as bleak as some of the army captains have warned us it might be, we all may be forced to leave this place and seek elsewhere for our homes. Mei Sa-Fong will head the group, for he is the most knowledgeable of the congregation, and has traveled farther than any of the rest of us, and knows the cities to the east and south. He takes with him Chung La and his sister Mei Hsu-No. The three will travel by water most of the way. Rivers and canals will carry them to the sea, and it has been arranged that they will go by sea around the end of Tien-Du. Mei Sa-Fong has been instructed that if he does not find Christians there, he is to continue westward. We have provided him with routes to Mi-Sz’i-Rh and Ki-Sz’i-Da-Ni, where Shih Ghieh-Man tells us that the Church rules everywhere since the time of an Emperor for whom the city is named. I have always believed that such a place was more legend than fact, but he assures me that the rumor, if anything, underestimates the city. A few of the elders have said that we are not wise to put our faith in so few of our number, but no one else in the congregation is as competent. Should this party visit you, I ask that you will receive them in the name of the master and give unstintingly of your aid. What they may discover will be of use to you as well as to us.

  Mei Sa-Fong and Mei Hsu-No spoke at length with this Shih Ghieh-Man and said that he was most helpful to them, though he has not been in Mi-Sz’i-Rh or Ki-Sz’i-Da-Ni for a very long time. He said that since the Muz-Lum followers have taken much territory, it is not as easy for Christians to move through their countries as it once was. Mei Sa-Fong informs me that if he can face Mongols, he can deal with any Muz-Lum he encounters.

  My congregation and I pray that our Christian brothers and all our countrymen come safely through the ordeal that is ahead. Even as Our Lord was tested, so are we, and we must show ourselves worthy of His struggle. We have been taught that those who rule the earth are the self-disciplined, which we must keep in mind through the coming years.

  With my blessing to you and your congregation, this by my own hand.

  Nai Yung-Ya

  Pope of the Nestorian congregation of Lan-Chow

  4

  Mao-T’ou stronghold sat at the end of a ridge of hills above a winding road between two narrow valleys, very much like the spearhead for which it was named. The keep itself was of thick, ancient timbers but the outer fortifications were of split logs standing in foundations of mortared stone.

  “As you see,” T’en Chih-Yü was explaining to Saint-Germain as they rode up the approach through a powder of light snow, “the north flank is our strongest, but if assault came down the crest of the hill, we would not have a chance against any large force. Thirty, forty men we could withstand, but no more than that.”

  Saint-Germain nodded grimly, holding his gray to the pace of the Warlord’s feisty sorrel. “You will need to build up most of the walls. An outer retaining wall might be helpful.” The approach was steeper here, and a few pines grew in this fold of the hill, though higher up they had been cleared off, both to provide lumber for the stronghold and to provide attackers little opportunity for concealment.

  Chih-Yü’s scale armor jingled as she urged her horse up the incline. It was necessary here to ride single file, and as she took the lead, she called back over her shoulder, “We’re short of labor, so it might be difficult to undertake more building. I was hoping there was a way to strengthen the walls as they stand.”

  “There is,” Saint-Germain assured her, “and it is better than nothing. Do you have manpower enough to dig a ditch—a deep one—around the stronghold?”

  “A ditch?” Her voice rose in surprise.

  “Mongols fight on horseback. A ditch would deter them for a while. It would certainly slow them down. You’d have to contend with the archers, but you have your own bowmen.” His horse, unfamiliar with the ground, stumbled, and Saint-Germain strove to bring the gray’s head up. The hooves scrambled on the frost-hard earth, and though he did not fall, the gray was favoring his off-front hoof as he resumed the upward climb.

  “What happened?” Chih-Yü asked, drawing in her sorrel some little way up the track.

  “He cast a shoe, I think.” Reluctantly Saint-Germain swung out of the light Persian saddle he favored, and drew the reins over the gray’s head. Speaking softly, he stepped to the horse’s head and bent to lift the leg. “Yes. If you’ll give me permission to use your forge, I’ll replace it this afternoon.” He began to walk up the hill, leading his horse.

  “You may do what is necessary, but my own smith can attend to it.” She had brought her sorrel back toward him.

  “Undoubtedly, but as I prepare my own alloys, I prefer to work them myself.” He looked up at Chih-Yü, and his expression became enigmatic.

  “About this ditch. Do you think it would make a difference?” There was intelligence and determination in her face, which, though not pretty, had a strength of character that made her attractive.

  “It might very well. The Mongols do not use heavy armor, so it will not be as much to their disadvantage as it would be to a troop of Frankish knights, but their horses will not want to gallop through it, and if we put gravel on our side of the ditch, they will fall if they jump. It might keep them from mounting a full assault on the stronghold.”

  She gave this her consideration and accepted it for the moment. “I’m not in a position to overlook any advantage we might find. I will give orders in the valleys that we need workmen. The winter has been m
ild so far. Usually there is a foot of snow here when the new year comes. The holding damns on the streams have kept the rain from causing much flooding, though two shepherds lost some sheep during the last storm. I will issue orders that each family is to send one man for two days in every fortnight to make this ditch, and to strengthen the walls of the stronghold.”

  “Will they obey?” Saint-Germain could not help asking. He had seen how many of the farmers were unwilling to assist the militia, choosing flight instead of confrontation with the Mongol horsemen.

  “They will,” she said with confidence. “I will give the same order to my soldiers, and the farmers will see that no one is being treated preferentially.” She rode well, with an economy of movement and capable hands. “I will work on the ditch as well.”

  Saint-Germain’s fine brows lifted. “You?”

  “I am Warlord here,” she reminded him sharply. “If I give orders, it is only fitting that I follow them myself. That way, my men will go into battle knowing that I will not desert them.” She glanced at the scabbard on her left hip and smiled. “I have my father’s sword, and it is revered.”

  “Isn’t it unusual for you to have your father’s sword? I am aware that there is no reason you should not, but I understand you have brothers. Under the circumstances…” He had been curious about this for some time, but had never felt at liberty to ask her about her family. Now, as they went slowly toward the rough walls of the stronghold, he thought she might be willing to speak to him.

  “My older brother,” she said slowly, “had no liking for this life. He left Mao-T’ou stronghold as soon as he was allowed to, and has not come back. When last I heard of him, he was living in the southern Empire with three sing-song girls. He went through his inheritance and I was forbidden to provide him with any funds except for his honorable burial.” Her eyes were flinty, fixed on the pass below them. “My other brother was born with a malformed foot. He is a good and gentle man, living now with our mother’s uncle, who retired from diplomatic service three years ago. He was pleased to have my brother with him, and the way of life is less strenuous in Pei-Mi.” At the mention of her younger brother, her features softened. “My father found that I was capable of martial skills, and trained me to continue his work.”

  “And you have encountered no opposition?” Saint-Germain could not believe this was the case.

  Chih-Yü laughed, and the sound was crisp on the cold wind. “I have encountered nothing but opposition. My mother said that she could not allow this for it would ruin my chances to marry, which is probably true enough. My uncles tried every ruse thinkable, and a few unthinkable, to foist one of their sons on my father. He was adamant. So, here I am. As for opposition now, well, luckily, I thrive on it.”

  Listening to her, Saint-Germain recalled his conversation with Kuan Sun-Sze, three months before, who had suggested that he offer his services to the Warlord of Mao-T’ou stronghold. “I doubt you would be here if that were not the case.”

  She gave him a quick, appraising look, then raised her hand in signal to the guards of Mao-T’ou stronghold to open the gates.

  As they passed through the narrow archway shortly afterward, Chih-Yü called out to her captain, “Jui Ah! I must see you at once. There are preparations to be made.” She turned back to Saint-Germain for a moment. “Ghieh-Man,” she said quietly, using his personal name alone for the first time, “when you have finished with your horse, I would be pleased if you would come to my quarters to discuss the ditch with me further.”

  “I will be happy to,” he said at once, and watched her with some curiosity as she dismounted and gave her sorrel into the hands of a groom before striding into the old wooden building that was the heart of the Mao-T’ou stronghold. He led his gray into the stable and encountered the cool looks of the grooms. “I must replace a shoe,” he said, and encountered blank stares. The dialect here was so unlike any of the other Chinese dialects Saint-Germain spoke that he could find no way to talk with the farmers and servants. He had heard enough of their particular tongue to realize that they had far more than four inflections in their speech, but he had not yet succeeded in identifying them. He gestured to his horse’s hoof and indicated that it had lost a shoe. One of the grooms nodded his understanding and went back to his task, raking out the stalls and laying clean straw down for the horses.

  Saint-Germain found the forge at the other end of the stable, and was pleased to see it was well-equipped. In so remote a place, there was no room for shoddiness. He glanced around to familiarize himself with the arrangements, then tied his gray to a handy post while he went to get the metal he required.

  When he had finished with his horse, he led him back to his stall and put him inside with a dish of oats and a pail of water. He took his saddle and bridle to the tack room and noticed, as always, the grooms refused to touch the alien things. He rolled down the sleeves of his sheng go and walked across the cobbled courtyard to the central building.

  Most of the servants no longer stared at him, though a few were pointedly ignoring him. Saint-Germain had experienced that often enough in his long life that it no longer rankled with him. He made his way up the wide, shallow stairs to the second floor, where Chih-Yü’s personal quarters were.

  Chih-Yü heard the click of Saint-Germain’s thick-heeled boots before he knocked on the door, and she was relieved. Jui Ah, her Captain, was still bending over her back, ostensibly to look at the drawing of the Mao-T’ou stronghold, but actually to try to stroke her neck. She would have to rebuke him openly, but at the moment she was too much in need of his assistance to risk offending him.

  The knock, when it came, sounded in the room like distant thunder. Jui Ah jumped back, and in so doing revealed his cupidity. Chih-Yü gave the Captain a hard look and called out, “Who is here?”

  “Shih Ghieh-Man,” he answered, puzzled that she would ask after requesting that he join her.

  “You may enter,” she said, and rose as Saint-Germain came into the room.

  This unusual courtesy was not lost on him, nor was the quickly concealed disgust in Jui Ah’s eyes. Saint-Germain bowed in the Frankish manner to Chih-Yü. “Warlord T’en,” he said most politely. “You have favored this person with the opportunity to serve you.”

  She did not quite smile, but there was a flicker at the tails of her eyes that showed her appreciation of his conduct. “Earlier today you suggested that we might dig a ditch around the stronghold. You indicated that your experience has shown you that such a ditch is one method of defending against cavalry attack. Since we are all three of us aware that we stand in considerable danger of just such an attack, I would appreciate it if you would enlarge on your comments.”

  Jui Ah braced one hand on his belt, every line of him showing derision. “A ditch is a waste of time. I’ve told you that before. We must double the thickness of the walls and make them higher.”

  “Oh, yes,” Saint-Germain agreed. “That is also desirable. But it is also sensible to take certain precautions, wouldn’t you agree? If the Mongols do not reach the walls, it is easier to pick them off, isn’t it?” He waited for Jui Ah to speak, and when the captain remained stubbornly silent, he went on. “A ditch, dug completely around the stronghold, will make it more difficult for the mounted soldiers to approach, and may throw them into some disorder. All of that is advantageous to us. The ditch should be fairly deep—certainly as deep as a tall man, and more if possible. It should be wider than a horse can comfortably jump. There should be loose rocks and gravel on the inner wall of the ditch so that once the horses are in, they cannot easily get out. Sharpened stakes planted at the top of the inner rim of the ditch are also useful, for then, should a rider get his horse up the inner wall, he will not be able to approach the stronghold. All this won’t take the place of the men of this stronghold, and it will be their skill that will save us, but these things will delay them and that will get us the time that the stronghold militia must have to defeat the attackers.” He hoped that he had give
n sufficient praise for Jui Ah’s vanity.

  Chih-Yü was seated once more and she spread out a map of the stronghold and the pass. “Tell me, Shih Ghieh-Man, where would you dig this ditch, if you were the one to give the order.”

  Though Saint-Germain had long since decided where such a ditch must be dug, he made a show of considering the map and pondering the terrain, even going to the window and staring out for a moment. Finally he went to the table where the map was spread. “I would begin it here, where the ridge dips before rising to the stronghold. I would keep it fairly far from the walls here, where the hill is steep, but would bring it in closer here, where the ground is flatter. We do not want to give them much area in which to gather once inside the limits of the ditch. If there is too much room, they can mount a charge and the whole purpose of the ditch will be lost.”

  Chih-Yü studied the map where Saint-Germain had run his finger. “There is a stream that runs here in spring,” she remarked. “It would cut through the walls of your ditch.”

  “Then dig the ditch inside the path of the stream. In fact, you may want to build a retaining wall between the ditch and the stream so that the ditch may be flooded.” He thought to himself that he had now persuaded them to accept a moat. How best to describe a drawbridge? He had seen many of them over rivers and canals, but only one fortress he knew of had used a drawbridge as part of its defense, and that fortress was far to the east, near the coast.

  “First you want us to dig a ditch for you, and now you’re telling us to divert a stream,” Jui Ah said with arrogant spite. “Is this part of your foreign knowledge, or are you trusting to our simplicity? We are not fools because we choose to live away from the cities, and you cannot deceive us with your plans.”