The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2) (20 page)

“What do you need?” he asked Xióngmāo.

“I want you to cook the rice and meat,” she said. “They use a fire pit in the back room. Apparently no one sleeps in there and they try to keep it clean. At least, that is what I am told by Bayarmaa here.”

The mother nodded at the sound of her name. The baby in her arms was sleeping and, to Zhou, looked content. He felt a lump swelling in his throat and a pressure building behind his eyes. Memories battered at the locked door in his mind, threatening to break it open and drown him in the torrent. He took a breath, placing thick bars across the door to hold them back.

“Tell her the baby is lovely,” he said, trying his best to keep the quaver out of his voice.

Xióngmāo spoke to the woman. The language sounded unlike any spoken in the Empire. The words were interspersed by sudden glottal stops and, here and there, a little click of the tongue. When she had finished, Bayarmaa looked up and smiled at him. Her skin was a weathered brown and there were lines around her eyes, but light of youth shone in them. Mongol women, it seemed, lived a hard life but then, he supposed, being forced to leave your homeland would age anyone. It had aged him.

“The food, Zhou,” Xióngmāo prompted him and he forced himself to look away from the peaceful child.

The kitchen area was not clean. Not by his standards and those of his wife. The wooden work surface had not seen a wash cloth in more time than he could safely imagine and the oven, brick built with two openings, one high and door-less, the other lower and with a metal door guarding it, was splattered with the evidence of previous users. Some of the splatters had turned charcoal black and a flick of his thumbnail caused them to crumble. Others were stuck harder than plaster to the bricks. In the corner of the room was a bucket full of water and a cleaver hung from a hook on the wall above the work surface.

Zhou sought out the cleanest pot and did his best to clean it further with some water. A few moments later, not satisfied but accepting of the results, he tipped the dirty water out and re-filled it quarter full of clean water. The fire in the oven was low so he opened the metal door, wrapping his hand in a fold of his robe, and pushed in some of the wood. On second glance, he realised that the fuel he was stoking the fire with were the broken remains of the tables, chairs and beds from the inn. Using a broken chair leg, he pushed the blackened ash around, spreading the heat and forcing the new wood to smoulder, the tiny flickers of reds and orange grew brighter, and burn. The cleaned pot he hung from a hook above the rekindled fire and closed the metal door with his knee.

As the water was heating, he cleared an area on the work surface, washing it down with more water. Using the cleaver, washed and then held over the fire for a moment, he chopped the meagre supply meat as thinly as possible and scooped it up onto the flat wide blade. Wrapping his hand, once again, in his robe he stretched out the cleaver over the fire. Soon, and before his arm was aching too much, the meat began to smoke and sizzle on the metal surface. He removed the improvised wok from the fire, flicked the meat back onto the work surface, turned it over, scooped it up once again and held it over the fire. Ensuring it was cooked through.

When he had browned the meat he set it aside and added rice to the now boiling water. The bubbling water calmed and turned a creamy white. Zhou watched and waited for the water to return to the boil before heading back into the main room to check on Xióngmāo. She had moved from the mother and was talking to a small group of women by the far wall. A few of the men were giving him strange looks. Others made gestures towards him and laughed with their friends.

Zhou shook his head. It was impossible to understand these people but clearly he was a source of amusement to them. He gave them a smile and returned to the kitchen. There was still water covering the rice in the pot. He added the meat to the rice and stirred it with the cleaver. The rising clouds of steam abated for a moment and the water turned a darker colour as the meat juices mixed in. He gave the pot a few more minutes with an occasional stir to make himself feel he had some purpose and when the water was almost gone, absorbed by the rice or lost in the steam, he took it from the oven.

There were no bowls or plates in the kitchen so he carried the meal out in the pot. Xióngmāo turned as he entered and pointed to the mother and baby. The men had also turned from their conversation and were staring at him. He stared back, this time without a smile. Patience was a finite resource and Zhou’s was almost exhausted. Viewed with suspicion and fear, then made fun of by people he could not understand, and all the time he was trying to help out. He let his lips curl, showing them his white teeth.

“Zhou,” Xióngmāo called across the room. “The food, please.”

He looked away from the men, who shuffled a little closer to each other, let a little knowing smile flash across his face, and carried the pot over to the mother and baby. Xióngmāo joined him there.

“Leave them alone,” she said. His eyes widened, hurt by the advice.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied and all he received was a knowing look in return.

She dipped her hand into the pot and brought some rice grains to the baby’s mouth, letting the small child suck them from her fingers. Xióngmāo spoke to the mother and, gaining permission, slid the baby into her arms and continued to feed it. The mother looked up at Zhou and then to Xióngmāo, who nodded. The Mongol woman dipped her own hands into the pot of food and began to eat.

“Sit down, Zhou. You are making our necks ache,” Xióngmāo said without looking away from her task.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and picked at the food he had cooked. After the first taste he realised he was hungry, but he restrained himself. Letting the mother eat her fill and the baby to get its own share.

“I know what was nagging at me,” Xióngmāo said to him. “The ladies and I have had a conversation.”

“And?” he prompted when she did not continue the thought.

“Well, sir, you’ve certainly got the command staff in a flap,” Corporal Enlai said as he held the horse’s bridle so that Haung could dismount.

“Could you see that the men are fed and watered?” Haung said. “We have some injured too. They’ll need treatment.”

“I will make the arrangements, Captain.”

“Can you tell me where to find the officer in charge? We had some fatalities. I’ll need to give them the details for the family letters and shrines.” Haung lifted his sword from the saddle and hooked it through his belt.

“I will ask the commander to attend, but it’s the general who wants to see you now, sir.” Enlai sketched a regulation bow at Haung. “Arm still itching?”

Haung caught himself rubbing the offending limb. Out on patrol, with something else to occupy his mind, the itch had vanished but now it was back with vengeance.

“Best to leave it alone,” Enlai said, his words filled with a long server’s knowledge. “All you’ll be doing is inflaming the skin and making it worse. I’ll have some more ointment sent on to you.”

“Thank you, Corporal.” Haung concentrated, telling himself over and over to ignore the itch.

Enlai nodded and led the horse towards the stables. Haung turned away and made his way through the gathered soldiers to Gang’s side. Liu stood close by and Haung beckoned him over too.

“We could have stayed and killed the lot of them,” Gang said.

“We would have lost a lot of our soldiers at the same time,” Haung said.

“Those who lived would have been the strong ones and they would be battle hardened to boot,” Liu said.

“Not you too,” Haung said in reply.

“No. I think you made the right call,” Liu admitted. “This was our first test of the enemy and theirs of us. It ended in a draw, but we learned something that may be of use.”

“And so did they,” Haung prompted.

“Depends,” Gang said. “They already know we are encamped behind a great big wall. There are only a few weak spots, the gates, along it and they are also the most fortified areas. In the mountains, a few hundred men on the wall could hold an army at bay. Here though, we will need a lot more than that. I think they chose to fight today. To test our mettle and see our tactics, gauge our strengths and weaknesses on open ground.”

“You noticed that they fought on horseback,” Liu said. “Now, it could be that this was just a patrol like ours, but they seemed very comfortable on those horses and with those little bows of theirs.”

“And we were on foot,” Haung said.

“The Empire has cavalry, but our wars are generally won or lost by the foot soldiers. I think we are just facing an army of Mongols. The wall was built to stop them marauding into the Empire. Once we put an army into the field, they will leave before any serious fighting takes place.” Liu looked to the wall and gate as he spoke.

“The wall also gives us something to do with the army when we are not fighting someone or putting down a rebellion,” Haung said. “I like your theory, Liu. Except we’ve never had refugees pouring through the gates before.”

“Just a bigger army, maybe?” Gang said.

“Maybe,” Haung agreed. “I need to report to the general. Can you see that the men are settled? Corporal Enlai is going to do as much as he can to help.”

Both masters nodded their agreement.

* * *

“Mongols?”

“That is Liu’s thinking, sir,” Haung said. “I am inclined to agree. The group who attacked us were all on horseback and using Mongol bows.”

“I can’t see a Mongol army attacking the wall, Captain. We built it to protect the Empire. Truth be told, we over built it.” The general’s high pitched voice rose in volume on the last words. Haung saw him take a deep breath before resuming. “Captain, you have seen the tents? The Mongols do not even get on with one another. They would rather kill each other than us. All the raids that ever occurred were barely a few hundred strong and lasted a few weeks at most. Since the wall was built, it has never been seriously attacked and all our intelligence tells us that the Mongols went on about their little tribal battles without alteration once it was finished.”

“It may be that something has changed?” Haung said.

“It is more likely that the threat came from the lands further north. The Mongol steppes were invaded and conquered. What you fought was just the remnants of a tribe. They were probably intending to rob the village and steal all of the food before moving on.” The general puffed out his chest though, given the size of his belly, it was weak display.

“Sir, most of the refugees that come through here are women, children and the elderly. What happens to the men?”

“There are many men amongst the refugees.” The general waved his hand and Haung’s concerns away. “Everyone reports that the men who stay to fight are killed. No, I am convinced that the threat is not some unlikely army of Mongols, but something else from further north.”

“General, no one sees the men being killed. Anything could happen to them.” Haung stepped around the general to position himself in the man’s eye line.

“Captain Haung, you forget yourself. I have made my judgement and I am happy with my reasoning. I expect you to report that to the Emperor.” The general’s voice rose further in pitch.

Haung bowed. “Of course, Lord General. I will make the Emperor aware your conclusions.”

“See that you do. Dismissed.”

* * *

“Captain Haung, welcome back to the capital.”

Behind him, the doors closed and every face turned in his direction. The black stone floor echoed under his feet as he walked. Ahead of him, a low table and seated to either side were the most powerful men of the Empire, the generals, the nobles, the
Fang-Shi
and the priests. At the far end of the table a set of seven steps rose to a wide platform upon which rested a golden throne. Behind this dais, and forming the back wall of the room, were rows of wooden doors, each could be slid back to grant a view over the whole of the Holy City. The Emperor stood from his throne and waved Haung forward.

“My advisors have been debating the best way to counter the threat from the north,” the Emperor said. “Their problem lies in the fact that we do not yet know the nature of the threat. I am hoping that you are able to shed some light upon that matter.”

Haung stopped at the end of the table and bowed deeply to everyone, holding the position long enough to ensure that no-one could feel the least bit slighted. When he looked back up none of the faces had changed. Every eye was fixed on him.

“My Lords,” he bowed once again. “My Emperor.”

“Captain, with all due respect, do you have anything to add to report that the General of the Wall posted with us just this morning? If not, I see little point in wasting time with another report from the wall.” Haung sought out the one who had spoken. A large man with a sweaty, ruddy face and the uniform of a general in the empire’s army. Haung opened his mouth to respond, but a small movement of the Emperor’s hand stopped him.

“General Juying, your cousin’s,” and Haung noted the stress placed on that word, “report was most elucidating and, I am sure, a clear picture of the situation. However, Captain Haung is here at my request and engaged on a mission of my choosing. We will hear his words.”

Haung took a deep breath. There had been a lot to read into those. A mere captain being present when a general was dressed down by the Emperor did not bode well for that captain’s military career.

“My Lords, the General of the Wall has instructed me to inform you that the threat comes from the far north, beyond the lands of Mongols. Just yesterday we engaged a group of Mongols in one of the deserted villages not far from the wall. They withdrew after both sides had suffered casualties. It is the general’s belief that this was merely a band of desperate Mongols fleeing the oncoming enemy.” Haung stopped and waited.

“Have you seen any evidence of this enemy?” the Emperor prompted.

“No, My Lord. I have been speaking with the men of the patrols and the Mongol refugees who hide behind our wall. None of them have seen anything of the enemy from the far north,” Haung said.

“You can’t trust the words of the refugee scum,” Juying said. “They’re cowards who did not even fight for their lands.”

“As the general says,” Haung said without giving any sign of agreement. “The women and children of the Mongols did indeed flee the enemy without seeing it.”

“And what do the Mongol men say?” the Emperor said.

“There are few men amongst them. They are saying very little or are running the illegal vice dens that our soldiers have been frequenting.”

“The men have been ordered to stay away from those,” the general blustered.

“As the general says,” Haung repeated. “However, some few men do still find their way there under the cover of darkness.” And many more in broad daylight, he thought. “These men discover many things about the Mongols that others have not. The women seem happier to talk when they have a man at their... mercy.”

“Harrumph.” Haung took the general’s noise as agreement.

“The lack of information about the true enemy is disturbing,” the Emperor rubbed his chin with delicate fingers. “What are your thoughts, Captain?”

“There is nothing to disagree with in the General of the Wall’s surmise, My Lord.”

“But you have some thoughts of your own?” the Emperor prompted.

“A mere Captain’s thoughts are not worth the noise they make, My Lord. The General of the Wall has spoken and it is on his information we should act.” Little white flecks of spit sailed from Juying’s mouth as he spoke.

The room was silent. Not the silence of contemplation, but the absolute stillness of an indrawn breath, the executioner’s axe at the top of its swing, the hawk before it dives.

“General Juying,” the Emperor began, “it is best you have a care how you speak. Not only may I find grave offence at your words, but the
Jinzhou
here,” Haung did not react to his sudden promotion to colonel, “is not a mere anything. I will allow the presumption that I may have been remiss in not fully introducing you to the colonel before I had him speak. Let me correct that for you.”

The Emperor stepped down from his throne and stood at the head of the table directly opposite Haung.

“My Lords, allow me to present you to
Jinzhou
,” there was the tiniest of stresses on the rank, “Haung. The colonel is a fully trained and exceedingly capable
Jiin-Wei
officer who fought with distinction at the battle of Wubei just last year. And I am sure many of you know that Colonel Haung is also apprenticed to the
Taiji
.”

Haung found himself sweating under the new, measuring stares that the assembled lords were directing at him.

“Colonel Haung has already done me a great service during the war and continues to do so now. General Juying, I am sure you realise that whilst a Captain is not of sufficient rank to demand a duel to restore honour lost at another’s slights and insults, a Colonel is. However, what I do find inexcusable is your lack of reading, General.”

“My Lord?” Juying turned his worried gaze from Haung to the Emperor. He moved back from his seat and knelt on the ground, bowing forwards, kowtowing. “Apologies, My Lord, for any offence given.”

The Emperor ignored the prostrate general and continued speaking. “I am sure the other Lords assembled had read the new list I circulated after the Yaart situation had stabilised. I am sure they noted Colonel Haung’s name upon it. All of which means, my dear General Juying, that even if Haung had been a mere captain he could have demanded a duel and I would been unable to prevent him from killing you. Hopefully, his overdue promotion to colonel will prevent others from making the same mistake.”

The gathering of lords remained silent as the Emperor climbed the steps back up to his throne and sat down. Juying remained, face down, arms outstretched on the stone floor.

“Now, Colonel Haung, you have some thoughts on the matter beyond the wall?” the Emperor asked.

Haung let out a shaky breath and sought the stillness, the quiet. “There is much to recommend the General of the Wall’s hypothesis, My Lord. However, I find it strange that all of the Mongol men are gone. Stranger still that we were attacked by a small party of them less than a day’s ride from the wall in an area which was previously flooded with refugees. They would know that there was no one living in those villages. We can only assume that further north and across the steppes that other villages were abandoned a time ago. The group would have passed through them and known the truth. It was not, in my opinion, a random attack. They knew we were there and sought us out. They were well armed and armoured. Their horses were fresh and there was a clear structure to the engagement. One man sat apart, in command. It was he who ordered the retreat when they could have fought on. My research, and speaking to the long serving soldiers on the wall, shows that the Mongol groups do not band together. If they war with each other it is generally a chaotic affair. They have no hierarchy, no commanders and little evidence of strategy.”