Taming Poison Dragons (34 page)

There is an old song from the days of the Han: ‘We fought for the South of the Walls, we died North of the Earthworks’. The whole army was singing it with one voice as we advanced on the Western Ramparts. Drums beat incessantly. Flags ordered regiments to their attack positions. I clutched my abacus and inkpot as I walked among them, carrying my lashed up shield. Mi Feng had insisted on accompanying me, armed with weapons stolen from corpses.

For the first time I wore P’ei Ti’s sword at my belt, though I harboured few illusions about my ability to use it. One gains confidence among so great a host. Surely the enemy’s arrows will find other bodies before your own.

A strange, warm wind blew in our faces as we took up position. I feared some new sorcery from Wang Tse, and many must have shared my thoughts for all around me men were fingering amulets and charms.

Reserve battalions had formed up in good order on the hillside above the city. Field Marshal Wen Po’s staff were gathered round a tent ringed by huge standards bearing the symbol of Heaven’s Son.

We halted, awaiting the signal to attack. The silence from Pinang was unsettling. Where were the clouds of arrows and missiles all expected? Our dense ranks provided a perfect target. I turned to Mi Feng.

‘Something’s going on,’ I whispered.

He did not reply. Trumpets began to bray. Then with a loud cheer, thousands of crossbowmen charged up our earthworks, taking positions with a clear view of the ramparts. Behind them, regiments of our best men crowded into the long ditch, readying hundreds of long ladders.

We, too, waited in the vile trench where I had endured so many hours.

Still the rebels did not attack, as our crossbowmen took up aim. Then came disaster. All along the city walls, strange devices, in the shape of large bellows, reared ugly heads like the snouts of dragons. Instead of fire, they sprayed out vast quantities of oil over the dense lines of crossbowmen. Mi Feng clutched me, raising my shield above both our heads.

‘Do not let the oil touch you!’ he cried.

By now, more oil was falling on the regiments of swordsmen in the ditch. For a long second we seemed to draw in breath, then the cry went up: ‘Naphtha! Naphtha!’

Flaming torches curved from the ramparts and the naphtha ignited with a loud whoosh of flame. Suddenly the earthworks were covered with burning men. The air grew thick with crossbow bolts and arrows directed from the city walls. Hollowed out gourds filled with burning powder landed among us. They needed no fuse to light them for everywhere our troops were on fire. Explosions echoed. The air swirled with smoke and an indescribable stench.

Ten thousand screams and wails! Above them rose the voices of our officers:
Attack! Attack!
Those who still lived and were unburned surged up the earthwork. Those who still lived and were unburned surged up the earthwork. carried with them, Mi Feng still clutching my arm. At the top I was greeted by an incredible sight: hundreds of our troops were rolling on the earth, trying to extinguish their burning clothes. Beside me, several soldiers were swept aside by a huge boulder, fired from the walls.

But Wang Tse’s trickery had not ended. Out from the battlements swung long wooden arms, dangling barrels with smoking fuses from thin iron chains.

Mi Feng hurled me to the ground, dragging a corpse to shield us. At once we were buffeted by the roar and force of a huge explosion. For many minutes I was too dazed to move. My ears rang as if with a hundred gongs. I struggled to breathe.

‘Pretend you’re dead,’ whispered Mi Feng in my ear.

‘Pretend you’re dead.’

I might as well have been. Through the smoke I glimpsed reckless men trying to place their siege ladders, casting away their lives for the sake of a gesture. The remnants of our forces were fleeing the accursed earthworks, large stretches of which had collapsed from the devilish force of Wang Tse’s explosions, burying alive scores of the wounded.

*

‘Now!’ gasped Mi Feng.

He dragged me back down the steep side of the earthworks, slippery with mud, blood, smouldering naphtha, the limbs and faces of men crushed underfoot. We joined the general rout and, gasping for breath, regained safety.

I collapsed onto the stony earth, consumed by a thirst I have never known since. Wen Po’s magnificent siege works, built at the cost of so many lives, lay in ruins, covered with blackened bodies. Cheering reached us from the city. Beside me, Mi Feng chuckled with relief.

‘A few more to add to your lists,’ he said. ‘But not us!

Not us!’

I scarcely noticed his callousness. For I wept, as did hundreds around me.

After the disaster we settled in for a long siege. By some miracle of influence at the Imperial Court, Wen Po was not recalled to atone for his failure. Perhaps his reports persuaded the Emperor that he faced an enemy armed with more than mortal weapons.

Field Marshal Wen Po resorted to the feeblest tactic in any siege – starving out the enemy. He had little choice.

Our forces were exhausted, the best men dead or wounded. Perhaps Pinang was indeed hungry. If so, it brought us little comfort, for we were hardly better off ourselves. One cannot appease hunger by painting a cake.

His Excellency concentrated on ensuring nobody entered or left the city other than his hired spies or assassins. The intensity of his longing for Wang Tse’s head can scarcely be imagined. Yet each attempt to infiltrate the city resulted in fresh corpses dangling from the city gates.

Finally a dozen magicians were summoned from the capital. They could be seen discharging clouds of red or blue smoke in the direction of Pinang, or inscribing spells on pieces of coloured paper to avert magical assault. Feverish efforts were made to prevent Wang Tse from exploring our dispositions while invisible, as he was known to wander round our camps at will. Others consulted horo-scopes and almanacs to reveal the weak points in the enemy’s defences.

I sent a lengthy description of our losses back to the Finance Ministry, without commenting how they had occurred. This dispatch caused me great disquiet, as it would signal to Lord Xiao that I was still alive. There seemed no alternative. A direct order had been issued, stating our reports were too infrequent. To disobey a superior would expose me to severe penalties.

The eleventh month dragged into the twelfth. By now the land was dry. Even the blessed spring beside our hut shrank to a feeble trickle. Wind from the steppes whipped fiercely, blowing dust clouds which caked clothes and stuck in the throat. Everyone cursed Wang Tse for conjuring this new misfortune, although Mi Feng, usually the most superstitious of men, declared it was perfectly normal for the time of year. With the wind came unrelieved cold. If there had been any moisture in the air, snow and blizzards would have assailed us. For days on end we shivered in our hut, sick of each other’s company.

Sometimes I struggled to compose couplets, but the words would not come. Each failure cast me into depression, until I tried again, with the same result.

Our rations, though reduced, continued to be doled out from the heavily-guarded granary attached to His Excellency’s headquarters. Yet I believed we would have succumbed to famine if Mi Feng had not persuaded me to spend my remaining strings of
cash
on food. Even in a siege, luxuries such as dried fish or pickled vegetables can be purchased at inordinate prices.

I shared what I could with the clerks, who loved me for it. Who does not wish to be loved? They addressed me as Young Father, and I liked that too. There was little else to enjoy.

Sometimes I considered appealing to Cousin Zhi for help, but the thought was distasteful. I could not help remembering my moment of weakness in his pavilion.

Then I would blush and rail at the clerks for some imagined fault. He sent me no message, yet I suspected he was maintaining a baleful watch, awaiting his chance for revenge.

One bitter afternoon as New Year approached, we were lounging in our hut, awaiting the despondency darkness brought, when we heard marching feet. I looked up from peering at a favourite poem of Po Chu-i’s in the dim light.

I could scarcely read the characters. No matter: I knew the poem by heart. The clerks halted their noisy game of chequers. Mi Feng stopped sharpening his long, curved knife, an activity like meditation with him, then spat on the blade.

I sighed and put away my scroll. Before I could reach the door, Mi Feng blocked my way. He pointed at my belt.

I picked up P’ei Ti’s sword and followed him out. As usual, a sand storm whipped our faces. A small squad of guardsmen were carrying a message: attend His Excellency Field Marshal Wen Po, instantly.

Half an hour later, I was led by an orderly into a farm-house used by His Excellency as a headquarters. Wen Po rested on a straight-backed chair beside a bronze tripod full of burning coals. Four guardsmen lined the walls, staring into empty space, as though on parade. Perhaps the rumours that Wen Po lived in constant fear of assassination were true. Perhaps he believed Wang Tse might use sorcery to enter his chambers invisibly. Perhaps, after so many defeats, he simply didn’t like to sit alone. Certainly he looked tired and lonely, a map of Pinang unfurled across his lap. I thought it prudent to get on my knees.

He glanced up and coughed.

‘Yun Cai,’ he said. ‘You may lift your head.’

I did as instructed. His face was troubled. Indeed he had aged since I last saw him.

‘I have received another letter from my cousin, Lord Xiao, concerning you,’ he said. ‘It appears he is still gravely displeased with the frequency and quality of your reports. This surprised me, as I understand from my officers that you are diligent and send your dispatches regularly.’

I waited, unable to think of a reply not bearing the taint of insubordination.

‘Well then,’ he barked. ‘Explain yourself!’

‘I have strived to fulfil my duty,’ I stammered.

Suddenly my eyes filled with tears.

‘When you commanded me to accompany the troops, I did so without endangering the clerks under my care. I have strived, Your Excellency.’

His face softened.

‘You are not quite what I was led to expect, Yun Cai. I expected a sly fop. But you are either very sly indeed, or neither. Is it true your father was the saviour of General Yueh Fei?’

‘He was.’

I did not conceal my pride.

‘Then your courage before the ramparts can be explained. Tell me, why did you take a barrel of water for the wounded each day? A strange action for a gentleman, surely?’

I shook my head.

‘I do not know, sir. At the time I told myself it was to ensure a favourable rebirth, for I expected to perish. But now I think it was merely to be of use.’

‘Of use? Quite so. One may be useful in many ways. Yet you gained honour from it. Was that your motive, to gain honour?’

‘Excellency,’ I said. ‘All my life I have longed to be worthy of my Father’s example.’

He nodded vigorously at this noble sentiment.

‘All decent men dream of earning their parents’ respect,’

he said. ‘Well, Yun Cai, you shall have other opportunities. Because you seem an honourable young man, I shall entrust you with a secret. Do you know how to keep your mouth shut, as well as how to ladle out water?’

‘I believe so, Your Excellency,’ I said.

‘For your sake, let us hope so. In two weeks the New Year will fall. Now for some time a tunnel has been dug with great secrecy. It now approaches the city walls. I expect it to be finished at the height of the New Year festival. Then. . . Well, we shall see what happens. Of course, I have reported this to my superiors at court, which brings me to Lord Xiao’s latest letter.’

I waited silently.

‘It seems news of my tunnel has reached Lord Xiao,’ he continued. ‘And he has found time amidst the busy affairs of state to request that you accompany the initial sortie into the city. You must understand I can hardly refuse such a request.’

‘No,’ I said, tonelessly.

‘He has even sent two. . . how can I put it?
Bodyguards
, to protect you when you are inside the city.’

The room was silent.

‘There’s no more I can do for you,’ he said, coldly.

I bowed so my forehead was a few inches from the ground.

‘I am grateful for the warning, Your Excellency.’

‘Well, prepare yourself as you see fit.’

He watched me in his expressionless way.

‘I hear you have powerful friends in the capital, who are making much of your presence here,’ he said.

Again I was nonplussed.

‘Your Excellency, I have no idea who these friends might be. I have always lived a secluded kind of life.’

‘Well, it is all one. You are dismissed.’

I edged backwards and left. Mi Feng waited outside the headquarters, holding my horse. He looked at me quizzi-cally.

‘It is time you sharpened my sword,’ I said.

His Excellency Wen Po’s revelations filled me with confusion. I went about my daily tasks as though in an unpleasant dream. Day after day dedicated to sword practice, for the discipline I had learnt when studying could be applied in other ways. Although I did not reveal Wen Po’s secret, Mi Feng sensed my fear and spared me none of his wisdom.

‘If you are to fight, who will walk away? . . Watch his eyes, not his arm. . . If he wounds you, let it prick you on.

Finish him, before you weaken. . .’

A hundred things to teach me the proper spirit for killing a man. Still I expected to disgrace myself when the trial came.

The clerks watched silently as we clashed. They thought I was dishonouring my position, for no true gentleman-scholar engages in crass military matters. That is what soldiers are for. My instinct was to agree with them.

Even in extremity a man will make much of the New Year.

We had no wine, but could sweep and water the doorstep, hanging streamers coloured with precious red ink round the lintel. My clerks offered dishes of millet to the god of our hearth, instead of the usual vegetables and soya beans.

He had protected us well and deserved great thanks.

Then, while they played chequers or word games, I sorted through a pile of old scrolls, trying to set everything in order for my successor. I thought it unlikely I would live to see the morning.