TUN-HUANG (19 page)

On the fourth morning they saw a large salt-encrusted lake. From a distance, it looked like a snowdrift. The unit marched toward it and found that it was frozen over. Despite the danger, the unit cut directly across it that night in order to save about four miles from their trip. The camels led the way.

On the fifth morning the unit reached the top of a small hill. From here, the vast desert spread out like an ocean, and in the distant northwest was a spot which appeared to be a cluster of trees. Hsing-te learned from Yen-hui that that was Sha-chou. The city was only fourteen miles away, and it would take less than a day to reach it.

For the first time since they left Kua-chou, the unit took a real rest. The soldiers lay against the horses and camels, drawing warmth from the animals as they slept. Wang-li, Yen-hui, and Hsing-te also slept in this way.

Hsing-te awoke suddenly. As he looked about, he saw the sleeping figures of the soldiers nestled against the horses and camels. The clusters of quiet soldiers, camels, and horses seemed to resemble groups of old stone statues placed in this corner of the desert hundreds or thousands of years before. Exhausted, Hsing-te did not move, his face lodged firmly against the neck of his horse. Only his eyes roamed. A little later, he turned his head slightly. In the distance he saw a caravan of about one hundred camels approaching. He gazed at the small, distant objects. Even from here, it was obvious that they were a trading caravan.

Idly he watched their progress. The caravan moved at a snail’s pace and the distance between them did not diminish perceptibly. He was not aware of how much time had passed. For a while the long caravan was hidden behind a hill, then it suddenly emerged surprisingly close.

Hsing-te continued to gaze vacantly at the camels that had come into view. He gave a sudden start as he recognized the banner, with the large dyed letter “Vai” symbolizing Vaisravana.

It could be none other than Kuang’s caravan. Hsing-te left his horse and walked toward it. Just then, the caravan came to a halt, and Hsing-te saw three men approach him. He called out loudly, “Kuang!” At that, one of the three men quickened his pace and raced toward Hsing-te. It actually was Kuang. He walked with his tall body erect as he came up to greet Hsing-te. He then asked, “Are you being transferred to Sha-chou?”

Hsing-te did not reply, but instead questioned Kuang about his destination.

“You mean us? We’re on our way to Kua-chou,” Kuang answered in his usual arrogant manner.

“Kua-chou has been completely reduced to ashes,” Hsing-te informed him. He quietly told him the details. Kuang listened attentively and then let out a groan. “Then we can’t proceed any further, can we?” He suddenly glared at Hsing-te and lashed out, “You certainly did a stupid thing. You’ll soon find out that there’s nothing more foolish in this world than what you’ve just done. Now listen well to what I have to tell you. The Muslims have started a revolution in Central Asia. In my own country of Khotan the Li family, who overthrew the Wei-ch’ih dynasty, has been destroyed. And soon the Muslims will invade Sha-chou, too. In another month Sha-chou will be crushed by the elephant brigades. The fools at Sha-chou won’t believe me, but it’s bound to happen. That’s why we’ve taken all our worldly belongings and have left Sha-chou.” Kuang stopped for a moment. “You certainly did a stupid thing. What’s going to happen to us? The Muslims are invading from the west. And the Hsi-hsia armies are coming from the east. Just where are we to go? You stupid ass!”

Kuang continued to glare at Hsing-te as though the entire responsibility for the present circumstances rested with him.

This was the first that Hsing-te had heard of Muslim activities in Central Asia. But since the information came from Kuang, who had traveled throughout that area, Hsing-te felt that there must be some truth to it.

Kuang rushed back to his caravan as if he had not a moment to lose, and Hsing-te sought out Wang-li to give him this news. Only a few of the soldiers were awake.

Wang-li was talking with Yen-hui a short distance away. Hsing-te walked over to tell them Kuang’s story. Wang-li merely cast him a glance from the corner of his eyes as if to say that Hsing-te’s words were nonsense, and then ignored him. However, Yen-hui immediately blanched and said, “When adversity strikes, it comes like this without warning. And usually bad luck comes in twos. When one misfortune occurs, the second immediately follows. Kuang’s story is probably true. From the east the dark horses of Hsi-hsia approach, and from the west the elephants of the Muslims invade. It’s not hard to believe.” He spoke very calmly, then raised his voice. “An army of elephants is coming! I saw an elephant once when I was a child. I saw one pass Sha-chou as it was being sent from Central Asia to China. Hundreds of those monstrous elephants carrying fiendish-looking soldiers will attack us, and the earth will tremble in their wake.”

Yen-hui sat abruptly on the ground, holding his head between his hands. He looked up distractedly and then shouted like a madman. “Where are we to go?” He looked up toward the heavens, as if to imply that no other place was left.

Straining his hoarse voice, Wang-li shouted, “What do we care about the Muslims? Who’s afraid of elephants? It makes no difference to us whether they come or not. Our enemy is the Hsi-hsia. It’s Yüan-hao we’re after. Those bastards are coming to kill off all the Chinese and to destroy Sha-chou so that nothing will remain of it.”

Wang-li immediately ordered his unit to set off.

Hsing-te followed Wang-li and joined him at the head of the unit. The army marched down the hill into the desert and made for the oasis on the horizon. Hsing-te saw Kuang’s caravan start about two hundred yards in front. Apparently the presence of Kuang’s caravan bothered Wang-li, and he quickened the men’s pace. But no matter how fast Wang-li’s unit traveled, the gap between the two groups did not diminish. Kuang’s banner, a solid yellow on the horizon, maintained that distance as they marched over the sand dunes.

The winter cold had lessened somewhat from the previous day. Shortly before noon the forces entered wastelands with willow groves scattered here and there. Walking became easier and the men quickened their pace. Soon, in the fields surrounding Sha-chou, they reached a settlement.

As before, Kuang continued to ride ahead. From a distance it appeared as though he, with his family banner fluttering high in the air, was leading two thousand of his own men.

In the fields numerous irrigation ditches were laid out at regular intervals, and since they ran diagonally across the troops’ path, the men were forced to walk a little and then detour, go on a little further and make another detour, just as if they were walking across a green checkerboard.

The unit reached the banks of the Tang River. Willows grew there and the river was frozen over. When they had crossed it, Hsing-te saw the walls of Sha-chou ahead. They were more splendid and ornate than any others he had seen on the frontier. They reminded him of his motherland, China.

The troops soon entered the marketplace outside the city near the South Gate. Shops selling all types of wares lined the streets, and the cobblestone roads were filled with men and women, young and old, jostling one another. It was inevitable that in less than a day a great catastrophe would befall this town, but these residents were blissfully ignorant of this and the town was bustling and peaceful. However, they watched with curiosity as weary soldiers with features like theirs entered the city. Hsing-te felt as if he had returned to China. Everything he saw reminded him of home.

At the open space just outside the city gate, the troops ended their long, grueling march. Led by Yen-hui, Hsing-te and Wang-li went on to Regional Commander Ts’ao Hsien-shun’s palace in the city center. It was a lavish and beautiful building.

Ts’ao Hsien-shun, a man in his fifties, was small in stature, but he was every inch a warrior, with flashing eyes and an air of determination. He leaned back a little on his chair and listened without expression to his brother’s tale, after which he said, “I knew we would be invaded by the Hsi-hsia sometime. It is happening earlier than I expected. We’ll have to fight, to defend the honor of all those Sha-chou regional commanders since the days of Chang I-ch’ao. My only regret is that Sha-chou does not have the military power to oppose the mighty Hsi-hsia armies. This will mean the Ts’ao dynasty will fall during my reign, but it cannot be helped. It is said that in the past this country was subdued by the Turfans, and that for years the Chinese were forced to wear Turfan dress. Only during festivals were they allowed Chinese clothes, and at such times they looked up to heaven and lamented their bondage. The people will probably be placed in a similar position again. But it is impossible for one race to control this land forever. Just as the Turfans left, the Hsi-hsia will probably leave, too. And after their departure our descendants will remain, prevailing through it like indestructible weeds. Of this only are we certain. It is because there are more Chinese souls resting here than those of any other race. This is Chinese soil.”

Hsien-shun spoke calmly with no sign of agitation. As might be expected of one who had been designated regional commander twenty years previously by Sung China upon his father Tsung-shou’s death in 1016 and had since ruled Shachou, he had self-possession and dignity.

Hsing-te sent a messenger to call Kuang to the palace, and he arrived immediately. Hsing-te and Kuang related the situation prevailing in Central Asia to Hsien-shun, but the latter was not at all surprised. He waited for Kuang to finish his tale and then said, “The Muslims may invade, but we are not really sure, are we? Sha-chou will probably be destroyed by the Hsi-hsia before that takes place. Don’t worry about it, young heir of the Wei-ch’ih family.”

Kuang stared hard at the Sha-chou ruler, then said, “Do you mean you think the Muslims will fight the Hsi-hsia?”

“That is very probable,” replied Hsien-shun.

“Which side do you think will win?”

“It’s hard to say. Unlike Sha-chou, the Muslims and the Hsi-hsia both have great military power and, as was the case with China and Khitan, both will suffer victories and losses and casualties.

The determined young man appeared to reflect upon this for a time, then said, “I’m going to live until then. I’ll have to live to see such fascinating times. The banner of the Wei-ch’ih dynasty will survive the war.”

Hsing-te reflected that no matter what the times brought, this rash young man would live through it all just as he had said. No doubt he would use elephants in place of camels, and travel back and forth between east and west with his family banner waving high in the desert.

After the meal was ended, Hsien-shun told Wang-li that it would probably be three or four days before the Hsi-hsia army attacked, so he wanted Wang-li’s forces to have a complete rest. In the meantime, Hsien-shun’s own troops would be preparing for battle, digging traps for enemy horses outside the city wall.

Wang-li, Hsing-te, and Kuang left the palace. Once outside, Wang-li and Hsing-te parted with Kuang.

In their quarters, Wang-li mentioned that whether or not Hsien-shun was a good military strategist, he would follow his advice and have a good rest. The troops and officers should sleep for three solid days and nights, just as Hsien-shun had suggested; they could wake up when the battle drums of the Hsi-hsia army sounded. Hsing-te thought he must be joking, but Wang-li looked serious.

Five of the seventeen temples in Sha-chou were given over to the troops for billets. Hsing-te went to the room assigned him and fell asleep.

He was awakened in the middle of the night. Drums were rolling. Thinking that the Hsi-hsia had come, he went outside. There were no signs of an attack, and small groups of armed soldiers passed by at regular intervals on the road in front of the temple, bathed in cold, wintry moonlight.

Toward dawn, Hsing-te was awakened once more. This time the commotion came from crowds of people far and near. He could hear human voices as well as the neighing of horses. Hsing-te went outdoors again. Daylight was beginning to illuminate the area. A continuous line of evacuees was passing by: women, children, and old people. Here everything was conducted efficiently, it seemed. After that, Hsing-te interrupted his sleep only to eat. Each time he got up the tumult in the town had increased, but by this time he had learned to sleep through it all.

By the evening following their arrival in Sha-chou, Hsing-te awoke feeling completely rested. The soldiers all started to get up as if it had been pre-planned and left their barracks to gather in the square, although no special orders had been issued. Wang-li also came. About half the two thousand troops had come to the square and had built bonfires here and there, about which they were now gathered.

“Awake already?” Wang-li asked as he saw Hsing-te.

“I couldn’t sleep any more if I tried,” replied Hsing-te.

“Let the rest of the men sleep one more night. Then have them gather here early tomorrow morning. We’ll probably stast battle with the Hsi-hsia army tomorrow evening or the following morning.

With that, Wang-li returned to his quarters.

Hsing-te approached one of the bonfires nearby. He had thought that the group were soldiers, but he found that they were Kuang’s men. Kuang was also present. As soon as he saw Hsing-te he got up and came to him, signaling to Hsing-te with a thrust of his chin to follow him. Hsing-te followed him a little away from the bonfire, and Kuang said, “I’ve been looking for you since yesterday. Do you intend to die or live through the coming battle?”

“I haven’t given it much thought. I feel just as I’ve always felt before a battle. I don’t know what fate has in store for me. I don’t particularly wish to die, nor do I have any special desire to live,” Hsing-te answered.

Hsing-te actually felt this way. He knew that it was impossible for the forces in the city to repel the Hsi-hsia invasion. If they could hold out one or two days at the most, they should consider it a great feat. In all probability, Sha-chou, like Kua-chou, would be reduced to ashes and the majority of soldiers and civilians would perish. Even if their lives should be spared, it was clear that misery alone awaited them.