Dragonwall (22 page)

As the boat continued forward, the bodies came into view with increasing frequency. After several minutes more, it seemed the river was choked with corpses. The smell of rotten flesh grew stronger. Even Batu, who considered himself to have a strong stomach, found each breath a sickening experience. Several pengs came topside under the mistaken impression that the air would be fresher. Soon, the junk was buzzing with subdued discussions of the terrible smell and speculations as to why so many bodies were in the river.

Though he did not tell any of his men, Batu knew the reason for the awful scene. His great grandfather had told him tales of Tuigan atrocities on unimaginable scales. Assuming those stories had been even partially true, the general had no doubt that the corpses belonged to the citizens of Yenching. In the face of the enemy’s advance, the inhabitants had no doubt retreated into their city, thinking they would be safe inside its walls. After Yenching fell, the Tuigan had probably punished the inhabitants with extermination, dumping the bodies into the Shengti.

Thirty minutes later, the general noticed a lamp shining through the drizzle ahead. The holder stood on the shore, swinging the light in a circle. Batu ordered the fleet to drop anchor. The circling light was a signal from his cavalry scouts indicating they had something to report. If, as the mate insisted, the fleet was within a few miles of Yenching, the message would be important.

Batu dispatched a sampan to fetch the officer of the scouts, then sent for his subcommanders. Next, he went below and awakened Pe, who it seemed could sleep through a battle. When the adjutant was dressed, the pair returned to the deck.

The provincial generals and the scouting officer were already waiting. Wasting no time with pleasantries, Batu looked directly to the cavalry officer. “What do you have to report?”

After a nervous glance at Batu’s subordinates, the officer began. “Commanding General, Yenching is only five miles away. As you expected, it has been taken by the enemy.” The young man paused and grimaced, clearly quite reluctant to continue.

“And?” Batu prodded.

“The enemy is still there,” the scouting officer said.

“How many?” demanded Kei Bot Li, the stocky general from Hungtze.

“The entire army,” the scout replied.

Batu frowned, thinking of his conversation with Tzu Hsuang just four days ago. His father-in-law had been expecting a major confrontation, and had not reported since. Batu could only guess at the reason. Hsuang might have been killed, the noble armies wiped out, or the mirror abandoned during retreat. Whatever the cause of the silence, however, Batu felt sure of one thing: the nobles had met a large force of Tuigan.

Addressing the scout, Batu said, “What you report is impossible.”

The cavalryman inclined his head. “If that is what you say, General.”

“Don’t be so ready to change your report, young man,” Kei Bot interrupted, stepping closer to the officer. “What makes you think the barbarians are still in Yenching?”

The officer glanced at Batu nervously, clearly afraid to contradict the commanding general of the greatest Shou army ever assembled. Batu nodded to the young man.

After receiving permission to speak, the officer said. “Horses. There are one hundred and fifty thousand or more outside the city.”

“How certain are you of the numbers?” Batu asked, his mind reeling at the thought of so many horses.

The young cavalryman looked at the deck. “We can’t be sure,” he admitted. “We didn’t dare approach their camps until dusk, and there were too many beasts to count in the short time we had. Still, I’m confident we haven’t exaggerated. The beasts cover the plain like a blanket.”

“What of the barbarians themselves?” asked Kei Bot.

“Yenching is well lit,” the officer reported, glancing toward Kei Bot but addressing Batu. “It appears the enemy is taking shelter in the city.”

“They’re not sleeping with their horses?” Batu asked, frowning.

“No more than three hundred campfires burn outside the city,” the scout said confidently. “Perhaps many of the barbarians are sleeping without fires, but then who is lighting the city?”

Pe pointed to the body-choked river. “Certainly not the citizens.”

“This makes no sense,” Batu said, leaning on the gunwale. “Why would there be so many barbarians in Yenching?”

“Evidently, the residents tried to hold Yenching,” Kei Bot offered, nodding at the corpses. “Perhaps they didn’t burn their grain before the city fell.”

“The Tuigan must have taken the city weeks ago,” objected one of the other generals. “Why would they remain here, consuming what must be a very limited supply of food? It would be wiser to eat their fill, then carry what they could and press forward.”

“Our enemies are barbarians,” Kei Bot snapped, turning on the man who had contradicted him. “After two months of starvation, they must now be content to feast and rest.”

Batu stepped between Kei Bot and the other general. “Our enemies may be barbarians,” he said, “but they are cunning and disciplined. Whatever their reason for remaining in Yenching, General Kei, it is not lethargy.”

Batu deliberately delivered the comment with a scornful tone. Kei Bot received the censure with a bow and an apologetic expression, but Batu knew from experience that the reproach would have little permanent effect.

“The Tuigan must be ready for us,” Pe said, addressing his commander. “Perhaps a spy learned of your plan, General.”

All six commanders grimaced.

“That’s impossible,” Batu responded, shaking his head. “Only one person at the summer palace knows where we are, and she would never reveal the plan.”

“The summer palace is far away,” Kei Bot responded, looking toward the southeast. “Who can tell what is passing there.”

Kei Bot’s ominous comment sent an unaccustomed pang of concern through Batu’s breast. He cast a disturbed glance toward the distant palace, wondering what his family was doing and if they were safe. The concern was a new emotion, for the general had always felt confident of his wife’s ability to care for the family when he was gone. During their last two weeks together, however, Wu had seemed anything but assured or strong. Diplomacy had never been one of her gifts, and it had been clear that she felt insecure in the political atmosphere of the summer palace.

“Is something wrong, General?” Pe asked, daring to touch his master’s sleeve.

Batu shook his head, forcing his family from his mind. This was no time to let such thoughts interfere with his duty. If familial concerns keep a soldier from focusing on the task at hand, Batu reminded himself sternly, he had no business having a wife and children. In war, there was too much at risk to let personal affairs take priority over military matters.

The general turned back to the cavalry officer. “What do you make of the horses and the lights in the city?” he asked.

The officer’s eyes widened in shock. “Me, General?”

“Yes,” Batu snapped. “You’re the only one who has seen the enemy camp. Do they appear prepared for battle?”

The young cavalryman looked from one general to another, as if begging for mercy.

“Answer!” insisted Wak’an, the officer’s direct commander.

The scout licked his lips nervously. Finally, he answered, “In truth, they aren’t prepared for battle. They have established a wide perimeter of guardposts, of course. But the rain has made the ground muddy. Their patrols move slowly and do not range far. They have displayed a surprising lack of concern about the river—”

“They don’t realize it’s a means of transport,” Kei Bot observed, a condescending smirk on his face. “The barbarians are not boatmen.”

“No doubt,” Batu agreed. He turned back to the cavalry officer. “Continue.”

“There’s little more to report. By moving only at night, our scouts have engaged but one patrol, and we destroyed it to a man. We haven’t made any blunders, and the enemy’s lazy deployment suggests they don’t suspect our presence. They look as though battle is the farthest thing from their minds.”

“They sound more like a garrison than a battle-ready force,” Pe observed, furrowing his brow.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Batu said. “They might be only a garrison.”

“With a hundred and fifty thousand horses?” objected another general.

Batu nodded. “Yes. Even if the Tuigan don’t know our plan, their spies have certainly reported the disappearance of our five armies. As he has demonstrated so far, the barbarian commander is no fool. The only bridge across the upper Shengti is at Yenching. Yamun Khahan knows as well as we do that if he loses that city, he will be cut off from his homeland and trapped in Shou Lung.”

“So he would garrison the city,” Kei Bot observed. A moment later, he frowned. “But not with a hundred and fifty thousand men. From your estimates of the enemy’s strength, General Batu, that’s three quarters of the barbarian army!”

The other generals muttered in agreement, but Batu shook his head thoughtfully. “The Tuigan are as rich in horses as Shou Lung is in people,” the general said. “Each man leads an extra mount, sometimes two. There are probably no more than seventy-five thousand warriors in Yenching.”

“Even so, seventy-five thousand men is no garrison,” countered Kei Bot, meeting Batu’s gaze with a critical expression. “Until we know why there are so many barbarians in Yenching, we must proceed with the utmost caution.”

Batu suffered a sinking feeling. “As much as it pains me to admit it, your counsel is wise,” he replied. The General of the Northern Marches looked over the gunwale toward the city. “What can they be doing with so many men in Yenching?” he demanded, his voice betraying more frustration than he cared to reveal to his subordinates.

After a long and anxious silence, it was the cavalry officer who dared to speak. “If I may, General, I can offer one possible answer.” He inclined his head to show that he did not mean to be presumptuous.

“If you know the reason for the barbarian behavior, it is your obligation to report it!” Batu snapped, irritated that the man’s timidity had kept him from fully discharging his duty. “Speak!”

The officer paled at his commander’s tone, then quickly wet his lips and began. “I have only a few thousand horses in my command,” he said, staring at Batu’s feet. “Still, we have found it difficult to feed them, especially in the areas the peasants have burned. With a hundred times as many horses, the problem must be a hundred times as severe.”

Batu nodded. “Go on.”

The cavalryman dared to look up. “If I were the enemy commander, I’d leave my extra horses and as much of my force as prudent at Yenching—especially if the granaries were full when the city fell.”

“You’re right,” Batu declared, laying a commending hand on the scout’s shoulder. “They aren’t foot soldiers, so the Tuigan ignore the possibility of using the river for transport. We aren’t cavalrymen, so we forget the difficulties of feeding the horses and don’t recognize the obvious problems our enemy faces.”

The other generals voiced their agreement with the cavalry officer’s analysis. Presently, however, Kei Bot scowled. “What difference does this enlightenment make, General Batu? Your plan is spoiled. Even if we had the proper equipment, it would take weeks to siege Yenching. Before it falls, the rest of the barbarians would return to aid the garrison.”

Batu meet the stocky general’s scowl with narrowed eyes. “Then we must take the city by surprise,” he said. “Tonight.”

His subordinates gasped. The cavalry officer nearly choked with shock. “B-But that’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible,” Batu replied, a smile of anticipation creeping across his lips. The general loved nothing more than testing himself and his men in battle, and storming the city might well prove a challenge worthy of their talents.

Still, Batu harbored no hope that Yenching would be a truly magnificent combat. The circumstances were not right for the epic confrontation he coveted. There was nothing illustrious about taking an enemy by surprise, especially when the opponent was outnumbered and far away from the supervision of a brilliant commander.

There was no chance, Batu realized, that Yenching would be the illustrious battle of which he dreamed. On the other hand, there was no chance that it would prove boring, either.

After standing for several moments in dumbfounded silence, the scout bowed deeply. “Please forgive me, General,” the young officer said. “I didn’t explain the situation clearly. The barbarians will see us coming. There is a guardpost two miles outside the city. They will see your boat lamps as soon as you round the next bend. That’s why I stopped you here.”

“The enemy is not as poorly prepared as you had hoped,” Kei Bot said, a satisfied smirk creasing his lips. “There is no way to surprise the Tuigan. You have no choice but to siege the city.”

“I repeat” Batu said flatly. “We’ll take Yenching tonight. I have just the way to do it.”

Ignoring his subordinates’ open mouths, Batu turned to the cavalry officer. “Can you stampede the barbarian’s mounts?”

A grin crossed the scout’s lips. For the first time that night, he looked certain of himself. “It will be a simple matter. The animals may be tethered, but no rein in the world will hold a frightened horse—much less a hundred and fifty thousand of them.”

“Good,” Batu replied, giving his subordinates a confident smile. “Yenching will be ours by morning.”

He outlined his plan, assigning each general the responsibility for coordinating one particular aspect. When he finished, he ordered the fleet commander to begin debarking the army on the river’s northern shore.

Batu took a few minutes to help the feng-li lang and his assistants from the Rites Section kill a hunting falcon. The feng-li lang claimed the sacrifice would persuade the spirits to grant favorable weather for the coming battle. After the bird’s body had been ritually burned in a bronze caldron, Batu turned his attention to the most crucial part of his plan. He had a hundred and fifty volunteers, armed with swords and torches, hidden deep within the bilges of two cargo junks. Next, he had the boats loaded with grain, taking care to make sure that his pengs could not be discovered easily.