‘Close your mouth, my son,’ he said softly. ‘These are good men, of your blood. Do not shame them for what they cannot control.’ His voice rose in volume, so that Bohai and those close by heard his words.
‘They are filthy because they have not been given water. They are starved because they have not been given food. See beyond the rags, my son. They are men of honour and strength, proven in their endurance. They are your people and they fought for me once.’
Xuan had not heard the Sung officer Tsaio-Wen approach behind him until the man spoke.
‘How touching. I wonder if their emperor will embrace them in their shit and lice?’
Xuan spun round and stepped very close to Tsaio-Wen. He seemed oblivious to the sword that hung from Tsaio-Wen’s belt.
‘You again? Have I not yet taught you humility?’ To Tsaio-Wen’s astonishment, Xuan prodded him in the chest with a stiffened finger. ‘These men were allies to your emperor, but how have they been treated? Starved, left in their own dirt without proper food? My enemies would have treated them better than you.’
Sheer surprise held Tsaio-Wen still for a moment. When his hand dropped to his sword, Xuan stepped even closer, so that their noses came together and angry spittle touched Tsaio-Wen’s face.
‘I have lived long enough, dog-meat. Show a blade to me and see what these unarmed men will do to you with their bare hands.’
Tsaio-Wen looked past him and was suddenly aware of all the ranks of furious men watching the scene. Carefully, he stepped back. Xuan was pleased to see a line of sweat along his forehead.
‘Personally, I would let you all starve,’ Tsaio-Wen said. ‘But instead, you are to be sent out against the Mongol tumans. No doubt the emperor would rather see Mongol swords blunted on your skulls than on Sung soldiers.’
He handed over a package of orders and Xuan took them, trying to hide his astonishment. He broke the imperial seal he knew so well and read quickly as Tsaio-Wen turned away. The Sung officer managed to cross some forty paces of the parade ground before Xuan raised his head.
‘Stop,’ he shouted. The soldier marched on, his stiff back showing his anger. Xuan raised his voice to a bellow. ‘You are mentioned in these orders, Hong Tsaio-Wen.’
The Sung officer scraped to a halt. His face red with rage, he came back. Xuan ignored him, continuing to read while the man stood quivering in indignation.
‘It seems my cousin the emperor is not a complete fool,’ Xuan said. Tsaio-Wen hissed at the insult, but he did not move. ‘He has recalled that there is only one group in his lands who have faced the Mongols before - and held them off. You see those men before you, Tsaio-Wen.’ To his pleasure, the closest ranks pulled their shoulders back as they heard. ‘It says that I should expect armourers and trainers to fit them once more for war. Where are these men?’
‘On their way,’ Tsaio-Wen grated through a clenched jaw. ‘Where is my name mentioned?’
‘Here,’ Xuan said, showing him the page of thick vellum covered in tiny black characters. It surprised him that the officer could read. Things had changed since his day.
‘I do not see it,’ Tsaio-Wen said, squinting at the page.
‘There. Where it says I may choose Sung officers to help with the supplies and training. I choose you, Tsaio-Wen. I enjoy your company too much to let you go.’
‘You
‘Your emperor has written that I can, Tsaio-Wen. Choose to obey me or choose to hang, I do not care which. The emperor has said we will march again. Perhaps we will be destroyed, I do not know. Perhaps we will triumph. It will be easier to decide when we have eaten well and grown strong, I know that. Have you made your decision, Hong Tsaio-Wen?’
‘I will obey the orders of my emperor,’ the man said, promising death with his eyes.
‘You are a wise man to show such obedience and humility,’ Xuan said. ‘You will be a lesson to all of us. Now it says here that there are funds available, so send runners into the city for food. My men are hungry. Send for doctors to tend the weak and sick. Employ servants to clean the barracks and painters to make it fresh. Find roofers to repair broken tiles, carpenters to rebuild the stables, butchers and ice men to fill the basements with meat. You will be busy, Tsaio-Wen, but do not despair. Your work benefits the last Chin army and there is no better cause.’
Tsaio-Wen’s eyes drifted to the papers Xuan held in his hand. Whatever the injustice or humiliation, he dared not refuse. Just a word from one of his senior officers that he had baulked at a lawful order and he would be finished. He bowed his head as if he had to break bones to do it, then turned on his heel and walked away.
Xuan turned to the incredulous smiles on the faces of his men. His son could only stare and shake his head in amazement.
‘None of us thought today would end like this,’ Xuan said. ‘We will grow strong in the months to come. We will eat well and train again with sword, pike and bow. It will be hard. None of us are young men any longer. When we are ready, we will leave this place for the last time. It does not matter whether we ride against the Mongols. It does not matter if we ride into hell. What matters … is that we will
His voice broke as he said the last words and they cheered him, their voices growing stronger and louder until they echoed across the parade ground and the barracks beyond.
In the gers of the camp healers, Kublai sat in grim silence as the wound on his arm was bandaged by a harried shaman. The man’s hands were deft and practised, working by instinct. Kublai grimaced in pain as the shaman tied off the knot and bowed briefly before moving on. General Bayar was just two cots down, wearing the cold face of indifference as another shaman worked to sew a gash on his leg that slowly dripped dark red blood.
Yao Shu approached, bearing a sheaf of paper with hastily scrawled figures.
‘Where are the Sung guns?’ Kublai asked Bayar suddenly. He did not want to hear the numbers of maimed and dead from Yao Shu, not then. He was still shaking slightly from his own fight on the hill, a quivering deep inside him that had lasted far longer than the swift struggle itself. Bayar stood to answer him, flexed his leg with a wince.
‘We found them still being brought up, my lord, a mile or so back. I have our own men looking them over.’
‘How many cannon?’
‘Only forty, but enough powder and balls for a dozen shots each. Smaller shot than the ones we had.’
‘Then abandon our own. Have oil wiped over them and cover them with oiled linen, but leave them where they are until we have a respite or we make more shot and powder.’
Bayar looked wearily at him. They had received news of two more armies approaching the area, marching hard and fast to support the ones that had gone before. Their only chance was to ride to the first and smash it before they faced a battle on two fronts.
‘Have you retrieved the arrows?’ Kublai asked.
Bayar was swaying as he stood, utterly exhausted. Kublai saw him summon his will to answer, a visible effort that reduced him to awe.
‘I have a minghaan out among the dead, collecting any that can be re-used. We’ll get perhaps half of them back. I’ll have more sent to the camp to be repaired. They’ll bring them up to us when the work is done.’
‘Send them with the wounded men who can’t fight,’ Kublai said. ‘And check the stocks in the camp. I need the fletchers working day and night. We can’t run out.’ He clenched his fist and looked at Yao Shu, waiting patiently. ‘All right. How many men have we lost?’
The old man did not need to consult his lists for the total.
‘Nine thousand and some hundreds. Six thousand of those dead and the rest too badly cut to go on. The shamans say we’ll lose another thousand by morning, more over the next week.’
Bayar swore under his breath and Kublai shuddered, his arm throbbing in time with his pulse. A tenth of his force had gone. He was sore and tired, but he knew the dawn would bring another fight against fresher soldiers. He could only hope the long march had taken the edge off the Sung troops.
‘Tell the men to eat and sleep as best they can. I need them ready before dawn for whatever comes. Send Uriang-Khadai to me.’
‘Lord, you have been wounded. You should rest.’
