Taming Poison Dragons (37 page)

The Bureau of Fallen Heroes had gathered near the entrance, squabbling furiously. Each of my clerks clutched items looted from the fallen city. One held a gilded bird-cage containing a sorry-looking sparrow. Another a bundle of silken clothes. The third, less fortunate than his fellows, had a young girl attached to his wrist by a cord.

None seemed particularly pleased with their spoils. Mi Feng stood alone, staring across the steppes to the north, where the Silk Road flowed to the edge of the world. I followed his gaze.

‘What is that?’ I asked. ‘A dust storm?’

The clerks became aware of my presence and appre-hensively sank to their knees. I ignored them.

‘What is that?’ I demanded, addressing Mi Feng.

The dust-cloud formed a line, several
li
wide.

‘It is an army,’ he said, simply. ‘See! There is the centre, and on either side, slightly forward of the main force, are its wings.’

Mi Feng continued to look north like a hawk.

At once the truth struck me. For months we had heard rumours from captured prisoners that Wang Tse had appealed to the Kin Emperor for help. It is not the kind of possibility one cares to consider too deeply. The Kin were our foremost enemy then, as now. Indeed, only the heroism of the great Yueh Fei, he whose life my father had saved, had prevented their conquest of all China a generation before. Yet the threat had never abated.

Wherever we were weak, one might find the Kin eager to seek an advantage.

For many years they had concentrated on the eastern seaboard, striving to conquer the Chiangnan. To find them so far to the north-west defied all reasonable foresight. Yet had not Sun Tzu written long ago in
The Art
of War
: ‘Attack the enemy where he is unprepared, and appear where you are not expected.’ And certainly our army had been enfeebled by its winter siege. Why should they not anticipate an easy victory? The reward, too, was worthy of risk. Pinang would grant them control of the Silk Road and its vast revenues. The Emperor would be obliged to pay heavy tribute to keep the trade flowing, thereby humiliating and weakening us further.

All these thoughts crossed my mind. My feelings were less orderly – like the clerks, and even, I suspect, Mi Feng, whose blood generally resembled ice-broth, I panicked.

‘This is merely a reconnaissance party,’ I declared, quite willing to deny the evidence of my eyes.

We had suffered too much hardship to deserve more.

No one had seriously doubted our final victory over Wang Tse, despite his alliance with demons. The only question was its ruinous cost. But the Golden Army of the Kin struck fear in all sober hearts. Inexperienced in war as I was, I knew the dust-cloud on the horizon could not be explained by infantry, but only by waves of Kin cavalry, famed for wild, inexorable charges. And their contempt for prisoners.

Meanwhile streams of our men, many exhausted by drink and fighting, were hurrying back to their encampments with armfuls of loot.

‘Surely they should be taking up position to the north,’I said. ‘Or manning the ramparts. Mi Feng, what is happening?’

He glowered at me.

‘Do you wish to discuss strategy?’ he said. ‘Well then, I see it like this. Either we run for it or fight. If we get trapped in Pinang, we’re done for.’

The prospect of changing from besieger to besieged unnerved me. The city was denuded of supplies. We had no time to drag our artillery inside the walls. Pinang would become a cage from which few might walk away, except as slaves.

‘As for me,’ he said. ‘I’d sooner run for it.’

Would Field Marshal Wen Po think the same way? His choices were stark. Attempt to gather the army and fight before the ramparts, or abandon the city which had so grievously reduced his reputation as a general. Perhaps the choice had already been made for him. When the illusion of power dissolves, one often glimpses a frightened, ordinary man beneath.

I paced up and down, uncertain where my duty lay. One thing, at least, was clear. I turned to the clerk with the girl attached to his wrist. It was the young, insolent fellow and I was glad for a chance to punish someone. I struck him across the face so hard that he staggered.

‘We are liberators, not barbarians raiding for slaves!’ I admonished. ‘You, my friend, need to take this girl back to her family.’

She crouched on the ground, staring around her, no more than twelve years old. I got on my knees beside her.

‘What is your name?’ I asked.

She peeped up at me, shivering in the harsh wind. I ordered the second clerk to pass over the silks he had looted and wrapped them round her.

‘We are going to take you back to your family, little princess,’ I cooed.

I must have made a ridiculous sight, for Mi Feng snorted.

‘What is your name?’ I repeated.

She told me. I forget what it was. Eventually I teased out where she lived, all the while glancing fearfully at the approaching dust cloud. There was no time for this! I slung her on the back of our faithful pony and cantered down the hillside through soldiers struggling to turn our artillery in the direction of the Kin. Outside the city gates, I lost my nerve. Brusquely I tried to set her down, yet she clung to me.

‘Take me with you!’ she begged, pitifully. ‘Take me with you!’

I shook her off. Indeed I was desperate to rid myself of her and return to the hut.

‘Find your family,’ I ordered.

Then I rode away.

What became of her I can scarcely imagine. Did she find her family still alive where so many had been put to the sword? It is little comfort to tell myself I acted for the best.

Perhaps my kindness caused miseries she would otherwise have avoided. Who can know? They say no good deed ever goes unpunished. One day I may chance upon her spirit in the Infernal Regions, and if she points accusingly at me across the Lake of Ghosts, I will know for sure.

By the time I had whipped my horse back to the hillside, those regiments capable of order were forming up beyond their camps. Trumpets blared a medley of confused commands.

I was about a
li
from the hut when fresh misfortune struck. My pony sank a hoof in one of the many holes dug by rodents on the slopes, and I was thrown. The pony stumbled, rolling over itself. I was lucky not to be crushed. I lay winded on the hard ground, whooping for air. When I finally stumbled to my feet no bones were broken – unlike the poor pony. It lay on the ground slavering, a foreleg snapped, eyeballs rolling in pain. I should have ended its misery at once – another reproach – instead I scrambled up the path to where Mi Feng waited. He was angry.

‘I hope the girl was worth it,’ he snapped. ‘Now we haven’t got a horse. And look!’

Lines of Kin cavalry were recognisable now, filling the horizon. I could even see the glint of sun on steel. Behind them, a long way behind, thousands of infantry advanced across the plain.

Would my father have stayed to fight? Probably. I entered the hut and gathered my meagre possessions. The clerks had already fled, only Mi Feng and I remained of the Bureau of Fallen Heroes. I was about to leave the hut forever when I recalled the three, tightly rolled scrolls I had discovered in my predecessor’s robes, and stuffed them into a satchel.

Mi Feng waited impatiently outside. The trumpets were sounding a general retreat.

It seemed the only way. Pinang was lost to us. Perhaps that is why Wen Po decided the city should burn, for plumes of smoke were rising from every district, scenting the air with ash, forming dense, billowing clouds. A good strategy. Smoke would delay the Kin and mask our depleted numbers. Perhaps Wen Po could not bear the thought they might possess what he had lost. Fires leapt from house to house, and there was a low rumbling, as wooden buildings collapsed in on themselves. The surviving population were rushing from the gates and gathering in ditches below the ramparts. I hoped the girl was among them.

f course we had no idea what to do. So we followed the retreating army, clutching our possessions. Now I felt the loss of that horse. We stumbled among a crowd of soldiers, choking on smoke, until we found ourselves south of the city, before the wide pass leading home. Here, Wen Po had decided to take a stand. We joined a dense river of men, straggling through the marshy ground, glancing fearfully over our shoulders.

I cannot imagine what rigour it took to halt the army and turn it around. But halt it did, to await the Golden Army of the Kin. I crouched beside a huge boulder and shivered, trying to calm the beating of my heart. My forehead and hair were damp with sweat. Mi Feng sat beside me.

‘We should not stop here,’ he said, motioning towards the mountain pass. ‘That is the way to safety.’

I was too exhausted to take another step. The fall from my horse had weakened me more than I cared to admit.

Besides, I was hungry and thirsty. A whole day of fright-fulness had passed since my last solid meal. Surely it was safe to rest for a while. Marshy ground lay between us and the enemy, confounding their ability to charge.

‘Leave me,’ I said. ‘I cannot go on.’

I expected Mi Feng to berate me. Instead, he sighed.

‘As you wish.’

Yet he did not move. So I caught my breath, while thousand upon thousand of Kin horsemen flowed round the city walls, entering the fog of smoke still pouring from Pinang. Meanwhile Wen Po steadied his lines of troops, a pitiful remnant of the force which had marched out six months before. The terrain was entirely in our favour, but at the sight of the advancing cavalry, I began to doubt.

‘Let us climb higher up the pass,’ I said, and Mi Feng was only too willing.

A short way up the path several guardsmen stopped us.

‘Get back into position!’ roared a sergeant.

I blinked at him. For a moment I felt the rage of a thwarted child. Then, without thinking, as a child quite artlessly plays a role to get what it wants, I reached into my bag and extracted the first scroll to hand. Su Lin’s letter, bound in sandalwood and filigree silver. Certainly it looked impressive. I waved it. The sergeant scowled and I was sure he would beat us back down the track to join one of the miserable regiments waiting in line.

‘Get me a horse, sergeant! I have lost my horse! I have a vital communication for His Excellency Wen Po’s cousin, the illustrious Lord Xiao! You must find a horse for me!’

All around us, fleeing soldiers were being driven back by snapping bullwhips.

‘His Excellency’s cousin?’ said the sergeant. ‘But I am ordered to turn everyone back, sir.’

That ‘sir’ revealed his weakness. I leapt on it.

‘What is your name and regiment?’ I demanded, waving the scroll as though I might stuff it down his throat. ‘You will answer to His Excellency for this delay, damn you!’

I must have been convincing. I had even convinced myself!

‘Let them through!’ he ordered, and we wasted no time, climbing up the pass until we joined a horde of straggling men, conscripted labourers for the most part and many other civilians who accompanied the army. The sound of fighting below made us turn.

It was the kind of sight one never forgets. Wen Po had mustered at least ten thousand men. They formed inter-locking lines, blocking the Kin cavalry’s progress to the pass. Yet they were outnumbered two to one by the advancing horsemen. Onwards they cantered, mounted archers at the front, spreading to outflank our infantry.

Then the first wave of armoured cavalry charged into a shower of crossbow bolts. Their losses must have been dreadful, for they halted and wheeled away. Then a second wave attacked, riding over their fallen comrades.

And a third. Finally they overwhelmed our lines of infantry and all hope of an orderly retreat died.

‘Flee!’ said Mi Feng.

Why he said it, I do not know. I was already several paces ahead of him.

Even uphill a man on foot is soon outstripped by a horseman. As we ran our progress was impeded by a column of the retreating army. All dignity lost, we cursed and shoved each other aside, caring only for our own skins. For several
li
the enemy did not attack us, as they regrouped their forces. We struggled up the broad pass in our thousands, following the ancient Silk Road. Then a cry went up:
Kin! Kin!

Scores of horsemen were riding along the bare slopes beside the road, loosing flights of arrows. They could hardly miss. Mi Feng manoeuvred me into the centre of our retreating column. On the edges, dozens fell, arrows piercing their bodies. We had no means to fight back.

Up, up the pass we surged until the steep valley narrowed. In the distance I glimpsed the highest point of the pass, protected by an ancient rampart. If we could reach there we might be safe, for the cavalry, however numerous, could not ride beyond. Even a hundred determined men could hold such a stronghold. Still the arrows fell among us. I trampled the bodies of wounded men in my eagerness to escape.

Here the road was elevated by a ravine on one side. We were but a
li
from the ramparts. I found myself beside a bobbing litter. Within, clutching the sides in sheer terror, rode Cousin Zhi. He was carried by six of his conscripted labourers. I had never seen such exhausted men. They were whipped on by a handful of white-uniformed guards from the Penal Battalion. At first I thought he might not notice me. Then he cried out and summoned the leader of the soldiers.

Who knows exactly what he said. I can only imagine his motive for what followed. Indeed, I have considered it many times. I believe he knew Lord Xiao desired my head.

Perhaps he hoped to trade my life for a Sub-prefect’s position. Perhaps he simply detested me. Whatever the reason, he ordered the soldiers to apprehend me and I can hear his voice now: ‘Get him! That one, yes, that one! A thousand
cash
for whoever throws him to the barbarians!’ He was beside himself.

The soldiers clutched at me and I fled through crowds up the high, narrow road. In that moment Cousin Zhi’s litter had lost its bodyguard. Perhaps he realised his folly.

I heard him crying: ‘Come back! Come back!’

At last unguarded, the peasants carrying his litter lurched to the edge of the road and tipped it over into the ravine. At the fall of their master, the soldiers halted, trying to fight a way back to him. A futile effort. Like us, they were carried forward by the retreating column.