The Mandate of Heaven (67 page)

Admiral Won-do was sailing swiftly away from the rectangle of anchored rebel ships, heading for the lines of enemy vessels in the distance. With him went twenty Yueh Fei warships, some of the best equipped in the fleet. The captain hovered beside him.

‘Speak up, man! Do not be afraid!’

‘The Admiral, Your Highness, is not attacking. He is joining the Mongols!’

For a while Hsiung’s face did not twitch. Nor did his eye move from the treacherous Admiral’s yellow-painted paddlewheel destroyer. In that interval he comprehended why his campaign lacked any trace of surprise; why hundreds of the Great Khan’s ships had gathered to confront the Newly Adhered Navy. His empty stomach sickened at the thought of the forces poor, honest P’ao must confront before he could lead the land army to Hou-ming.

‘So much the worse for Won-du when we meet again,’ he said, quietly. ‘Summon my officers. We will confer!’

It was a glum assembly. By now everyone in the fleet knew of the Admiral’s defection. Many concluded their cause was lost. Hsiung surveyed them proudly, his helmet resting on a broad arm.

‘Officers,’ he began, ‘we have been in worse situations than this. Think of Fourth Hell Mouth! The traps they laid for us in the Salt Pans! I tell you, Heaven favours our cause …’

He proclaimed his faith until one of the long-standing rebel commanders stirred uneasily. ‘Your Highness! Shall we attack or simply wait here?’

Hsiung nodded. ‘That is the decision I must make. Yet we cannot sail back to Chenglingji, however tempting that seems. Even now General P’ao may be approaching the city. We must stay near Hou-ming until we know his dispositions and whether he requires our assistance.’

The commander, an old carousing companion of General P’ao’s, nodded.

‘That does not mean,’ continued Hsiung, ‘we must be like stones worn away by water! Send out our fastest ships to skirmish. Instruct all crews to prepare for a fight!’

It was the best he could do. Many of the officers muttered among themselves and Hsiung decided to execute the first who showed the slightest sign of wavering or following Won-du’s example.

He turned to survey the ranks of enemy ships manoeuvring into five distinct squadrons, a force at least twice as numerous as the Yueh Fei fleet. The rebels’ one advantage lay in their floating castles, armed with dozens of large catapults and giant crossbows. With these they could rain thunderclap bombs and dragon tongues of flaming naphtha on any warship foolish enough to draw near.

Hsiung stared at distant Hou-ming, a dark jumble of silhouettes in the dawn light. When would P’ao arrive? News from P’ao could change everything.

By nature, General P’ao was not a reckless man. When gambling at
mah-jong
or cards he always contrived to secure favourable odds, often through sleights of hand. Likewise in war, though capable of bold strokes that surprised even himself, he preferred to progress by degrees. The proverb,
he who takes big paces leaves big spaces
, was one he often deployed against junior officers with too grand an opinion of themselves. So it was no coincidence he avoided the trap prepared for his army.

They were south of Hou-ming, traversing an area of low, wooded hills, when scouts reported large formations of infantry hidden amidst the trees. Although the most direct route lay through the woods General P’ao saw no reason for haste. Let Hsiung cruise round the lake a day longer if need be! After all, autumn was a pleasant season and the weather mild. Few hostile vessels opposed them. Accordingly, he sent a decoy force forward and out-flanked the would-be ambushers so effectively that he surprised their rear, gathering hundreds of heads and scattering the main force like panicking geese.

That had been on the 8
^th
Day. Now, as dawn rose on the 9
^th
Day of the 9
^th
Month – the same dawn that commenced with Admiral Won-du’s defection – General P’ao surveyed the distant Southern Suburbs of Hou-ming with undisguised satisfaction.

It had been remarkably easy to fulfil his half of the rebel plan. Perhaps Hsiung’s confidence was justified. Now P’ao’s task was to lead an assault on the ramparts and distract whatever troops Prince Arslan still possessed. All reports suggested they didn’t amount to much, the best of the Prince’s warriors having perished in the Salt Pans. After that, Hsiung would sieze the harbour and that very evening they’d dine in Arslan’s own banqueting hall! P’ao also intended to claim ownership of a certain floating oriole house he had frequented when billeted in Hou-ming; and, of course, its delightful occupants. He turned to his regimental commanders, lined up behind him.

‘Well,’ he said, affably, ‘our scouts have returned. Nothing lies between us and Hou-ming. They also report a small uprising of fishermen against the Mongols in the Southern Suburbs. All of which bodes well.’

The officers nodded approvingly.

‘We must persuade as many of the enemy as possible to attack us,’ continued General P’ao. ‘For that reason we shall tempt them with false prizes.’

An old strategy favoured by the ancient commentators. The commanders accordingly returned to their regiments, the drummers beat a thousand times, and three hours later the Yueh Fei army drew close to the Southern Suburbs.

* * *

By the time they arrived, ‘the small uprising’ mentioned by P’ao to his officers lay all across the muddy lanes and smouldering hovels of the fisher-folk’s villages. Bodies were everywhere, all bearing signs of savage blows, and not just men of fighting age – women lay in dishevelled piles, their clothes torn. Flies buzzed round the corpses. Amongst them were many children, cut down as they clung to their mothers.

‘It seems the rebellion here didn’t last long,’ remarked P’ao. He glowered at the city ramparts and Southern Gate a few
li
distant. Tantalisingly, the gates stood open, but he was not so foolish to forget they could close in an instant.

‘Commander,’ he said, turning to the leader of the Yueh Fei Guards, ‘find out who massacred these people.’

The answer came from a pile of corpses that moved suddenly.

‘Beware!’ cried the Guards Commander, drawing his sword.

A face daubed with blood popped out between a limp arm and leg. The face grew a chest then rose. It belonged to a young man clutching a notched axe.

‘Your worship!’ cried the young man, rolling his covering of bodies aside. ‘I heard you talking. I can tell you what happened here.’

‘Let him speak,’ ordered P’ao, before adding. ‘Oh, and take his axe away, just in case.’

But the fisherman was in no way hostile; he had every reason to welcome the Yueh Fei army.

‘We heard you were coming and rose after dawn, killing the officials, curse them! Then they sent a few companies of soldiers and we worsted them as well!’

‘So how did this happen?’ asked P’ao, glancing at the piles of corpses.

He listened while the fisherman told his tale, all the while casting uneasy glances at the city ramparts.

‘Many thousands hiding in there, eh?’ said P’ao, when the fisherman was done. ‘Led by Prince Khoja himself. And more in the hills west of the city? Are you certain?’

The scattered bodies lent credibility to the man’s tale.

‘Well, well,’ said P’ao, going over to one of the few fallen government troops and rolling him over with his boot. The soldier wore armour. Dragging off his helmet, P’ao discovered the typical shaved head of an Imperial Guardsman. Since when had such elite troops fought for petty rulers like Prince Arslan? P’ao licked his lips, not liking the taste. Advancing up to the city walls was pointless if such men defended them; worse, should the enemy appear behind them, it would be easy to get trapped.

‘Send scouts to circle the city,’ he said, addressing his officers. ‘In the meantime, order the regiments to draw up ready to repulse an attack from any direction.’

‘What of the wounded, sir?’ asked the Guards Commander.

P’ao looked at the bodies around them; a few showed signs of life.

‘We can do nothing for them until the ground is safe. Into position!’

He was interrupted by braying trumpets from the ramparts and the echoing boom of huge Mongol
naccara
signal drums. Drums that only sounded to issue commands. But that was not possible, Prince Arslan was trying to frighten the Yueh Fei rebels with the prospect of facing the Great Khan’s wild horsemen, warriors that had conquered half the world.

P’ao’s foresight in ordering a defensive posture was rewarded by the immediate confirmation of his worst fears. A full
minghan
of Mongol cavalry, a thousand strong, galloped round the corner of the city ramparts and rode to take up position blocking the rebels’ retreat. Still the
naccara
pounded and P’ao faced the ramparts. The gates had opened to pour forth heavily armoured foot soldiers. When he turned to face the eastern corner of the walls behind which the cavalry had appeared, he saw jogging lines of halberdiers and archers. One of the battalions bore the standards of the Imperial Guards.

‘You fool!’ he muttered under his breath. ‘You fool!’

Whether he referred to himself or Hsiung no one lived to tell. But when, hours later, General P’ao took his last stand with a final ring of Yueh Fei loyalists, determined to perish sooner than surrender, he remembered the fearless little boy who had killed the red dog with nothing more than a bamboo sword and remembered his own pride and amazement at becoming first a captain then a general, even for just a few splendid years. No longer put upon, no longer bullied Sergeant P’ao in the ignoble service of the dubious Salt Minister Gui. That was his comfort as the last of his men were cut down. Oh, he had lived well enough! He even left sons behind bearing his family’s name into the future. Perhaps that was why, in gratitude or wonder, General P’ao bellowed out the name of the brave little boy until a mace crushed his forehead and stopped his tongue.
Hsiung
!
Hsiung
!

By mid-afternoon Hsiung abandoned all hope of capturing Hou-ming. The one prize he desired was safety for his fleet, the many thousands trapped in floating wooden walls, men who had trusted his judgement and mandate to rule. He would lay down his life sooner than betray that trust.

Hsiung paced the deck, aware that the surviving ships of the rebel fleet were being driven steadily into a packed circle like a shoal of fish harried by river dolphins. Nearly a third of the Newly Adhered Fleet had been destroyed. Every direction he looked revealed floating spars and planks, clouds of smoke from burning ships set alight by jets of naphtha or thunderclap bombs hurled from catapults. Never mind that many more of the government vessels had perished the same way. For every ship the rebels crippled or sank, two more lined up to take its place, some led by Admiral Won-du and his squadron of turncoats. It was these Hsiung hungered to encounter. He did see Won-du’s yellow paddlewheel destroyer earlier in the battle and almost gave chase before recollecting he could not leave the fleet uncommanded for the sake of revenge.

How many hours until darkness? His seasoned old captain estimated five. Night’s cover was their only chance. With darkness they would attempt a desperate drive through the squadrons surrounding them, ramming aside any who got in their way. Then Hsiung would order the Newly Adhered Fleet to become its opposite – no longer adhered but fragmented into a scattering of fleeing boats. Those lucky enough, at best a few dozen, might make it back to Chenglingli. Fortune was their only guarantor of survival. Yet five hours was a long time to defy a superior enemy and already he could see the morale of his men flagging. He needed to give them fresh heart, convince them survival was possible if they remained brave. At last it came.

A flotilla of ten paddlewheel destroyers and sail-driven junks – for the wind was freshening as evening approached – had been sent forward in a probing sortie against a corner of the massed rebel fleet. At once thunderclap bombs curled through the smoke-filled air. Drums beat on all sides. Hsiung rushed to the rail of his prow. The flotilla was led by the treacherous Admiral Won-du and consisted of ex-rebel ships. Instantly, Hsiung saw how he could restore morale.