Swords From the East (33 page)

"Unhappily, I find the Lord of Ten Thousand Years-" he looked directly at Chung-hi, who was seated in a chair raised above the others"intent on other things than war. Where are the forty banners of the provinces with their mailed hosts? Where are the standards of the sun, and the wind, and lui kung, the thunder? Alas, I do not see them. Is it possible that the emperor has not been informed by his servants of the danger that confronts him?"

He leaped down among the musicians, who, finally aware that something was amiss, ceased playing as Mingan advanced across the intervening space to the chair of Chung-hi, where he made the triple obeisance.

Chunghi, grosser of body, more arrogant of face, gripped the carved arms of his throne-chair, frowning. Mingan, abandoning the false tones of an actor, added gravely-

"The Mongols have broken through the wall and are besieging Taitung."

"What mockery is this?" demanded the emperor wrathfully.

After fifteen years he did not recognize in the sun-burned and bearded plainsman the Prince of Liao-tung.

"Sire, it is truth." He pointed out over the flower hedges of the garden. "From the stage I saw the warning smoke of distant watch-towers, and, thereafter, your mailed cavalry of Liao-tung bannermen forming in front of its barracks under the palace hill."

Here and there officials rose; some whispered to attendants who moved out to the edge of the Garden of Delightful Hours, to look down on the city. Returning, their startled faces confirmed Mingan's tidings.

"By the first Dragon of the sky," cried Chunghi, "what man are you?"

It crossed Mingan's mind that fifteen years before this same Chung-hi had sought to slay him by stealth, fearing the omen of the stars that the dynasty of Cathay was nearing its end, while that of the Prince of Liaotung was ascendant. If he took a false name and claimed merit for his warning, Mingan might be rewarded well. Certainly, the men who stared at him now believed him dead. But his pride!

"I am Ye Lui Kutsai Mingan, last prince of the north, of Liao-tung. The tale that I repeated on the stage was true; by that device only was I able, sire, to gain a hearing."

Superstitious dread seized on the emperor. Mingan's sudden return to Cathay-his miraculous advent on the stage, in spite of the cordons of guards about the palace-his knowledge of what was still unknown in the city, Chung-hi feared that this was a spirit sent back by the demons that had carried Mingan off. And, Chung-hi had driven the prince into exile.

"A lie!"

He peered at the tall figure in front of him.

Now there came to the emperor's side a massive form in white, with agewrinkled brow. It was the Servant of Mercy, the executioner of the court, who had once failed in the task of ridding Chung -hi of Mingan. The Servant of Mercy had a good memory, and seldom had he failed so signally.

And Mingan, recognizing him, drew back a pace, then smiled.

"Have you forgotten, Son of the Dragon, the night that you sought to slay me and I fled from the palace in my hunting-chariot? Then here is one who can vouch for me."

The man in white looked long into the face of the prince, and his eyes gleamed. Stooping, he whispered into the ear of Chung-hi, and withdrew, moving quietly as an animal. What he had said was: "This man is the one that was to be strangled fifteen years ago."

Whatever Chung-hi's faults, stupidity was not one of them. Assured that Mingan had come to him from the Horde, he was suspicious on the instant. Pretending incredulity, he shook his head.

"You are no more than a clever soothsayer, seeking our attention in this manner. What else do you seek?"

"To serve with my regiments of Liao-tung, 0 Lord of Limitless Life! To use my poor wisdom in the service of Cathay."

This was Mingan's right as a prince of the royal line, and if Chung-hi admitted his identity it could not be denied him. But Chung-hi realized that to give Mingan command of the strongest branch of the army would be to raise him to popularity-and power. He had a vivid recollection of how the prince had made him lose face before his father, and-he shook his head again.

"As I thought. Either you are a hobgoblin out of the steppe or you are a lying mountebank. Your tale is false as the voice of the grave bird crying at night among the tombs."

Chung-hi shivered a little, thinking of those others he had slain to clear his path of strong men. He signed to a group of spearmen.

"Take this presumptuous one under ward and place him in the dungeon of offenders against the Throne, under the palace."

Mingan bent his head. The voice was that of Chung-hi, his cousin and his enemy, but the gilt-chair and the dragon-robe were those of the emperor of Cathay. It was possible for him to prove his identity, but even so, a command from the Son of the Dragon would make it necessary for him to commit suicide or be beheaded. To disobey a command from the Throne was impossible for one of his upbringing. And yet-only after an inward conflict was he able to submit to his fate.

Later, when he had his hearing before the Board of justice, he would have an opening for speech and liberty.

"Yet, sire," he cried, "heed me in one thing; for if I am a soothsayer, I am a true prophet. The Mongols are stronger than you think. Do not divide your armies or send them against the Horde in open country. Muster your strength in Yen-king and keep behind the great walls until losses compel Genghis Khan to withdraw."

He glanced eagerly at the perturbed general of Yen-king, a stout eunuch brave in the finery of his rank, and at the aged scholar who was president of the Board of Imperial Strategy.

"Now," a quizzical smile lighted his dark face, "my role is ended-"

Chung-hi hastily shook his sleeve by way of dismissal to the prisoner. At the same time he confided in the nearest officials that the fortune teller must be a little mad-or a Mongol spy. Had not he, Chung-hi, a million awaiting his command in the warrior levies? Had he not been thinking of war with the Mongols? It would be a new diversion, better than the play-that was all.

"True-true," echoed the courtiers. "Wan sui-live for ten thousand years!"

Perhaps in this feast of Hao, the guests on high, the dead heroes of Cathay grieved, knowing all things of the past and future, even to the portents of the stars-for in that summer Cathay the unchanging, changed.

Their altars-the tablets of the ancestors-were neglected during the next months, although the shrines of Kwan-ti, god of war, lacked not for worshippers, and the very rivers were red with blood.

Chung-hi had intended to summon Mingan to question him in private, but events in the kingdom kept his mind occupied with other things. So it was months before the door of the dark cell opened for Mingan to come out. In that time the prince-being a political prisoner-heard little of what passed in the world above, save a word or two-that Genghis Khan had been wounded by an arrow at Taitung, that the imperial armies had been divided into four commands of two hundred thousand each-three to advance beyond the Hoang-ho to drive back the Horde, and one to hold the capital.

There was wondering and unrest among the northern regiments when they heard of the return of one who called himself their prince; then in the tumult of war he was forgotten by all except his warriors of Liao-tung and one who never forgot.

The corridors of the underground prison had been deserted for at least a day when Mingan, lying on the damp stones, heard steps in the semidarkness. His door was unlocked, and a man's hands fumbled with his fetters. Presently these fell off, and Mingan saw that his visitor was tall and clad altogether in white silk.

"Servant of Mercy," he said calmly, "if you have come, then my hour is at hand."

The executioner helped him to his feet, took the end of his girdle in one hand, and led him into the corridor, up winding steps to a hall where the air was sweeter. Flickering candles stung Mingan's eyes, long accustomed to the gloom. Waiting until his prisoner could endure the light, the Ser vant of Mercy conducted him out a postern door, across a small court, up other steps into the anterooms of the audience hall of the emperor.

Mingan was aware of two things: It was night, the stars were glittering in the cool air of early autumn, and the approaches of the palace were deserted. He wondered if Chung-hi wished his coming kept a secret.

Then he heard the measured intonation of temple gongs in the city beneath. Some important event was taking place.

The white-haired executioner folded his arms, his eyes closed. This bearing of a servant did not hide an impulse of strong feeling in the man.

"Your hour, Prince of Liao-tung, is at hand. If you harken to the voices of your ancestors-and I think you will-you will sit for the first time in the seat of honor. I, unworthy servant of the Dynasty, will choose the knife."

Mingan remembered the first visit of the strangler when he was still a youth. He had slipped out of his bed and laughed at the man. But he was hearing the voice of the executioner as a human being for the first time, and the message puzzled him.

"Was that why you brought me from the cell? At whose command? Speak openly. After five thousand hours of looking into darkness and silence I am old and am not disturbed."

In fact, Mingan's face was filled with tiny new lines, and his eyes, slow moving, were those of a man indifferent to all things.

"No one commanded your release, my lord. I came because it was not fitting that one of noble lineage should starve like a kite in a cage, and because there was no one else to sit in state in this palace. And this night someone must sit in the hall of audience."

"Chung-hi."

"Chung hi and his courtiers are fled out of the kingdom to the south. There is no one in the palace save you and I and some old slaves and boys."

Mingan started.

"What of the garrison?"

"Chung-hi has taken it to guard his person."

In few words the executioner explained that of the three armies sent against the Mongols one had gained a doubtful success, at the same time that the two others were overwhelmingly defeated by two portions of the Horde under Mukuli and Genghis Khan. Then the Horde had united, scattered the remaining command of the Cathayans, passed the Hoang-ho, and had entered the outer walls of the city, which were weakly manned by levies of citizens. The inner wall had opened its gates to the conquerors, who were now seeking for the palace.

"But the palace itself could be defended!"

"Alas, sir, the slaves have plundered it and, having hidden their spoil safely, have turned their coats-so that they shall not be known for attendants of the Dragon-and sought safety."

Now, looking out into the corridors, Mingan was aware of stealthy shapes that flitted from shadow to shadow, snatching where gold or silver glittered in the light of candles that still burned in their places. He questioned the executioner further-surely someone must be in command here.

The Servant of Mercy shook his head. The Master of Slaves, left in charge of the palace, had carried off the handmaidens, to offer them as slaves to the Mongols. In this way he hoped to ensure his safety.

Mingan reflected, and when he looked up again, it was with a purpose formed.

"Conduct me to the dressing-rooms where court-garments are kept. It is not fitting that the palace should be found empty by the conquerors-like a thieves' nest."

Within the imperial wardrobes he allowed the Servant of Mercy to cleanse his face and hands and comb his beard. Then he dismissed the man and himself found and put on the dragon-robe of ceremony, the plush cap with the peacock feather of rank, and, folding his arms, made his way slowly down to the audience hall which was now quite empty.

Empty, that is, except for the figure that lay extended on the step leading to the chair of the governor of the city. The Servant of Mercy had taken advantage of the interval to cut his throat here, as if to suggest to Mingan what seat he should occupy.

With a gesture of acknowledgment, the prince stepped over the body of the faithful servant and sat down in the lacquered chair, leaning his head back against the silk tapestry that covered the wall. His eyes traveled down the vast extent of the tiled floor, empty as a tomb, and he mused upon the fate that had humbled Cathay.

Presently, bethinking himself of the farewell message custom prescribed, he took from his girdle the writing implements that were a part of the dress and traced on the lapel of the garment these words-

"Striving always to keep faith, I have labored against fate."

A patter of slippered feet, a panting and moaning, and into the hall ran a whining thing that, seeing Mingan sitting in state, cast itself at his feet, clutching with trembling fingers the hem of his robe. It was the master of the palace slaves, his fine purple coat turned inside out so that the gray lining might be unnoticed in the shadows of the corridors-all the bland composure with which he had once barred Mingan from the imperial gardens quite vanished.

"Excellency-majesty," he panted. "Exalted governor, guard me from the sharp-fanged dog that follows. I am a loyal servant, none more so-"

But with the words he shivered and from his wide sleeve fell strings of pearls, shimmering in the candle-light, and loose rubies and sapphires wrenched from their settings, plundered from the chambers of Chung-hi. What stifled his plea, however, was recognition of Min.-an-not the governor of Yen-king, but the wandering actor whom the slave had struck.

Seeing the grave eyes that looked at him reprovingly from the thinned face, the master of the slaves scrambled to his feet, caught up some of the jewels, and fled away up the hall, seeking a door by which he might leave it. A burly figure in deerskins entered by the door through which the slave had come, a Mongol gur-khan armed with a heavy spear.

Sighting the fugitive slipping along the wall, the warrior grunted with satisfaction, planted his feet, and cast the spear. It passed through the master of the slaves, pinning him against the tapestry. Then, noticing Mingan, the Mongol called over his shoulder-

"Lord, here is one in authority who has not fled but awaits you."