Casca 18: The Cursed (6 page)

The hell with it.
He wasn't about to run onto a lance. He didn't intend to suffer an agonizing death from which he knew he would come back to life.

He sat on the ground and went back to trying to unbuckle Hu's sword belt so that he could get at his pistol. "Well," the one who had identified him, said, "you're made of better material than your reputation would suggest. I understood your specialty to be fighting women and old men."

"I am not who you think I am."

"Then get up," the baron said, "and we will learn who you are."

Casca seethed. He cursed the Nazarene, whose curse deprived him of the dignity of an honorable death.

"Which way?" he spat from his position on the ground.

The baron gestured with his lance. "To Shou Chang, where I believe we will find your master Zhang Jintao and his horde."

"I do not know this Zhang," Casca said, "but I doubt that five men can defeat his forces."

The baron smiled and socketed his lance. He waved his arm and pointed toward Shou Chang. Casca heard the movement of many men, and a small army appeared on the road at the crest of the hill where they had been resting amongst the trees that fringed the road.

"Get up, dog," the leader repeated, "we have need of your information."

Well, he wasn't finished yet.

The whip that had been wound around his neck now lay on the ground beside him. He snatched it up and came to his feet, flailing it about, taking out the swordsman's eye, and lashing the mounted horses so that they bolted away with their riders struggling to control them.

He leaped into the, one empty saddle and hammered his heels into the horse's flanks, racing down the road past two of the riders who were just succeeding in bringing their mounts under control.

The flailing whip caught one horse in the throat and it reared and threw the rider. The other he lashed on the rump and it broke into a wild gallop, crashing through the trees that lined the roadside to fall heavily into an irrigation ditch.

Three thoughts suddenly came to Casca. All bad.

His left wrist, which he had used to haul himself into the saddle and to hold the reins, was now aching horribly and he could feel the fingers growing numb.

His right arm, thanks to the wound in his shoulder blade and the other in the arm, was now also a throbbing agony, and he could scarcely hold on to the whip.

Worst of all he was going the wrong way.

His heels were still raking the horse's sides with his spurs, the animal giving its all as it galloped toward Shou Chang, where the warlord Zhang and his troops waited. And they would scarcely welcome the man who had slain and robbed their tax collector.

And behind him were the five nobles he had escaped, and behind them their small army. There was nothing for it but to keep going.

Well, at least the gate guards would not stand in his way.

They didn't.

They saw him coming from a distance, and Casca's fast clouding senses were just sufficient enough for him to remember to pull up the face guard.

The gate guards stood carefully aside as he raced through the portal. The warlord's two men laughed uproariously: "That's Hu Wei. Always in
a hurry." In spite of his wounds Casca laughed. Another few moments and they would be in something of a hurry themselves.

But, by the great balls of Mars, what the fuck was he going to do now?

As if in answer, Deng Ziyang chose that moment to haul his cart into the road.

Casca tried to wheel his horse, but in the narrow street there was nowhere to go, and no space to stop.

He tried desperately to will the horse to jump the width of the small cart as he had often seen cowboys do in America, but neither he nor the horse knew how.

The horse's chest struck the cart at full gallop, smashing and overturning it, and strewing its load of grass and
cowshit and dismembered body pieces along the street, with Casca tumbling among the mess.

The impact wrenched the crossbar of the shafts from Deng's grasp, leaving him standing. The shrewd old man appraised the circumstances in an instant and slipped quickly through the open doorway into
Ju Liqun's store.

He was already moving before he saw the great warlord Zhang approaching from the other end of the street, but this appearance hurried him, and he was quick to close and bar the door behind him, motioning to his daughter's family to be quiet while herding them into the back room where all five of them huddled in the farthest corner.

Zhang and his entourage were startled by the noise of the crash and were astonished to see what appeared to be Hu Wei flying through the air, accompanied by a number of sackcloth bundles which came apart in their flight to reveal the same Hu Wei's head, as well as his arms and legs and trunk. The horse was screaming shrilly, its chest impaled on the iron boss of the wheel, its belly punctured by several pieces of broken wood, the blue bag of its intestines oozing out.

Zhang and his men came to a halt.

Two Hu Weis?

Zhang was not a man to worry easily, but he was highly superstitious. It had never occurred to him that his tax gatherer might have two heads, but now it seemed that he had, and a whole lot of other spare parts as well.

Casca came to, lying on his stomach, to find himself looking into the mad eyes of Hu Wei, staring at him out of the dead head that sat before him in the roadway.

He tried to rise, but neither of his arms would take his weight: He rolled onto his back and sat up.

Beyond the city gates he could see an approaching cloud of dust.
Horses. He began to remember and realized that these were his pursuers. And that he owed one of them an eye.

He
swiveled on his rump and saw that the other end of the narrow street was blocked at the turn by another band of horsemen, whom he rightly took to be the warlord Zhag Jintao and his cohort.

"Jupiter's fat ass," he cursed, "what a busy fucking town."

"Hu Wei," the warlord called from where he sat astride his horse. "Why do you have two heads today?"

"By the two headed dog, Janus, who guards the way to Hades, I'll show you," Casca muttered as he picked up Hu's head. He reversed it and rammed it hard onto the ornamented spike atop his helmet.

Groggily, he got to his feet, turning as he did to look back along the road.

A babble of excited and apprehensive shouts broke from Zhang's men as they saw what they took to be their comrade in arms with his back to them, while his head glared at them from above his helmet.

The thrust of the spike had set off some nervous response, and the eyes were blinking rapidly, the tongue vibrating in the open mouth.

Everywhere along the street doors were slamming shut, bars falling into place.

The pursuing horsemen were now slowing to approach the gates at a walk to comply with the established protocol. Nobles of the imperial court would not set a bad example merely to pursue a malefactor.

And Baron Ying
Ruochen and his lieutenants had another reason to slow their pace.

Casca had turned back to face the warlord, and they could now see Hu Wei's writhing head. It was much more animated than the iron mask they had been looking at a moment earlier.

Zhang, for his part, felt more comfortable looking at the mask and the back of Hu's head, even though the Korean's long black hair hung down over the forehead of the mask and lent it the look of a live face.

"
Er, Hu Wei," Zhang asked respectfully, "who are these horsemen who pursue you?"

Casca swung around to glance toward the gates, then back to Zhang. The effect, as Hu's head wobbled on the spike and his hair swayed about above the mask, was to make both heads look very much alive.

The approaching army was still not out of sight around the turn in the road. Good. And the nobles were still too far away from where Zhang sat astride his horse for him to perceive who they were. Best of all the men whose eye Casca had taken was not with them, no doubt staying along the road to have his wound tended.

"Some rich merchants whom I tried to rob.
But they are well armed and they drove me off, but now we can take them and their gold."

Zhang well knew Hu to be a coward, and this story rang true. He still felt uncomfortable about the two heads, but it was not too bad looking at the mask. And the mention of gold removed his last reservation.

He spurred his horse forward, thinking to attack the merchants, and his men moved too. But at that moment the two men he had posted by the gate heard Ying Ruochen identify himself as Baron of Chaochow, and at the same time they saw the first ranks of the baron's army round the turn in the road.

Shouting warnings, they started to run toward Zhang, but were brought up short by the grisly sight of the two headed monster. They faltered and turned, to be cut down by the swords of the baron's lieutenants.

Zhang was spurring his horse forward, when he, too, saw the approaching army.

He pulled his horse up short a little distance from where Casca stood by the upturned cart and his dying horse.

"Hu Wei," Zhang shouted in some confusion, "do you lie to me?"

Realizing his ruse hadn't worked, he answered, "Alas master, this spare head is not reliable."

Zhang lost interest in the explanation as he saw the nobles urging their horses forward. He wheeled his horse around, colliding with the press of horses and men behind him. His front ranks tried to turn too, and, in turn, crashed into those behind them. Farther back, Zhang's troops were still pressing forward, every man anxious to be among the first to fall upon the rich merchants. The narrow street was jammed with wheeling horses and men trying to draw their weapons as they began to realize their situation.

The nobles were now almost
to where the upturned cart blocked the street, alongside the two headed monster and his horse.

Casca's aching fingers had made no progress with Hu's heavy sword belt, and his revolver remained out of his reach under the
armored jacket.

As the nobles reached him, he took Hu's head from his helmet and hurled it into the milling mass of the warlord's men. Then he crawled into the space between the cart and the wall where he could not be too easily reached. The nobles moved one by one through the narrow gap at the other end of the cart, ignoring him for the moment, being much more interested in coming to grips with the warlord and his men.

The flying head struck Zhang on the shoulder, ricocheted up into the air, and came down again amongst his ranks. Everywhere horses shied and men cringed away from it. They were still in complete disarray when the nobles' lances spitted the first of them.

Now Zhang's men had to turn again to defend themselves, and the baron and his lieutenants were able to hack them to pieces as they tried to
maneuver in the narrow space.

Then the rest of the army was upon them, and the cobblestones ran thick with blood. The air rang with the clash of swords. Dying men screamed, horses neighed as their hooves slipped on the bloodied stones.

Zhang's men broke and fled, but the baron's men were close behind them and made great sport of cutting them down from behind with their swords or running them through with their lances.

The rout moved around the corner, the shouts and screams moved away, and Casca found
himself alone in the street outside Ju Liqun's store.

He scraped gently at the door.
"Deng Ziyang," he called, "the battle is over. It is safe now. Let me in. I will reward you well."

Inside the
Ju household the cowering family heard Casca's repeated calls and argued amongst themselves. "We have had enough trouble," Ju Liqun whined. "Let him die in the street."

"Stupid fool," Deng hissed at him, "how much trouble is enough? What do you know of enough who never has enough to drink? And whose children never have enough to eat. Do you not yet know that one man's trouble is another man's opportunity? And is it not the way of the Hakka to assist strangers and so acquire merit in the eyes of the gods. Let him in, I
say, and you may yet be rich."

"We already have the barbarian's boxes,"
Ju Liqun argued. "Surely when we break them open we shall be rich enough."

"And how rich is rich enough? And how do you know what might be in the boxes? We know the barbarian has money on his person. And when your kitchen god,
Tsou Shen, reports on this household for the year, shall he speak well or ill of your hospitality? Let him in, I say."

They were still arguing when the baron's army came back around the corner with Zhang Jintao's head and several others on their lances, and a number of prisoners being dragged along with ropes around their necks.

Casca groaned at the sight. In another moment he was looking into the points of a dozen lances and swords. Wearily he got to his feet and came out from behind the cart. A noose dropped over his head and he was dragged along the street with the other prisoners. They were taken to the village square where their captors beat upon wooden drums to summon the population.

The baron and his lieutenants were joined by the elders of the village and the headman and his men. The Buddhist priests didn't come to the square, but sat on the temple steps to watch.

One by one the prisoners were paraded and villagers who had suffered at their hands gave evidence against them. As the evidence against each one came to an end Baron Ying asked the prisoner if he had anything to say in his defense.

Most of the prisoners remained mute and were beheaded on the spot. A few denied the charges and were beheaded anyway. Some burst into tears and begged for mercy, and these were summarily beheaded, too. Some only had a few accusers and their crimes only amounted to pilfering, and these had one or both hands chopped off, the bleeding stumps being cauterized with flaming torches and then plunged into a barrel of hot pitch.

Casca noticed that as the trials proceeded the villagers became more courageous in coming forward with evidence, and soon they were competing with each other to establish the evildoing of the prisoners. The last few men were vehemently accused of every possible crime, and, although it seemed clear that the villagers were now inventing their evidence, they were beheaded anyway.

At last Casca was the only prisoner left.

He was dragged to the center of the square to the boos and hisses of the population. Villager after villager told of how this huge beast in the hideous mask had looted their homes, raped their wives and daughters, killed their sons.

But there was a sudden silence when the mask was jerked down from his face. Several people who had been loud in their accusations qualified before the steady gaze of Cas
ca's blue eyes A number withdrew and hid amongst the crowd. A hush fell over the square. Even the sobbing and groaning of the mutilated ceased.

"Who knows this man?" the baron asked, but nobody spoke.

He singled out one villager who had been loud in his accusations and who had stood his ground when the mask was removed.

"Is this the man?" the baron demanded.

"No, Lord, he is not. The beast who raped my daughter and killed my young son had black eyes and skin the color of my own."

One by one other
accusers confirmed his statement.

"Very well," the baron said at last, "we will interrogate this strange one and allow him to accuse himself." He gave a signal and Casca's guard jerked at the rope around his neck. Another tied his hands, forcing a scream from him as the rope wrenched at his broken wrist.

The baron gave some of the captured weapons and horses to the village: Only a handful of the baron's men had been wounded, and these were placed on carts borrowed from the village. There was no such humane treatment for Casca, but he was allowed to mount one of the captured horses.

The army moved out of the village and headed back along the road to
Tsungkow, dragging Casca along behind them by the rope around his neck. He suffered mightily on the thirty mile ride. None of his wounds was deep, and he was no longer losing much blood, but every stride of his horse jolted his wounded butt on the saddle so that he came to think of his earlier ride in Deng's cart as a luxurious excursion.

When they arrived at last in
Tsungkow Casca was taken to the town jail and handed over to the turnkey, who removed Hu's sword belt and then untied Casca's hands so that he could remove the armored shirt. He gleefully seized Casca's knife, but was puzzled by the revolver.

"It is a powerful weapon," Casca told him. "More powerful than the large handgun the baron carries. But it can be easily damaged, and if you do damage it the baron will punish you severely."

The turnkey had seen a few handguns, but had never seen one in use. He grasped the Webley by the pistol grip, pointed it in Casca's direction, and pulled the trigger.

Casca threw himself to the floor and the shot went into the stone wall. The jailer dropped the gun in alarm.

Casca seized it and pointed it at his fat belly. He backed away in terror. Casca could hear feet running to report this phenomenon.

He backed the jailer against the wall and slammed him in the temple with the gun butt. He pitched to the floor and Casca picked up his heavy key ring and threw it through the bars of one of the cells.

He retrieved his knife and held the hilt in his teeth while he hacked through the rope on his wrists. He put on Hu Wei's shirt again, this time with his gun belt outside. As he ran from the jail he could hear the prisoners opening one cell after another. Good. A mass jailbreak should slow any pursuit.

As Casca reached the courtyard that separated the jail from the town's administrative buildings he saw an under jailer and an important looking official running for the prison.

He took his time and shot the official neatly through the head. The terrified under jailer fell begging to his knees and Casca walked over to him and clubbed him senseless.

There were numerous horses in the adjoining stable yard, some of them still saddled. Casca grabbed the nearest one and managed painfully to get into the saddle. He kicked the horse into a gallop and raced away.

He gritted his teeth in agony. His left hand was now just a ball of pain. He could not use it to hold the reins and had wound them around his fist, which didn't give him much control over the horse, but he didn't need all that much control. He didn't care where the animal went so long as it moved fast, and his pointed spurs saw to that.