The Commander

 

Two days later, we strike camp and head up the road to Qiu City.  Messengers have been sent ahead to inform the King of Qiu that we’re on our way.  Lady Ma has bought premises in the city which we can use as a base, presumably with Prime Minister Li’s money.  She’s been an efficient and invaluable aid in this enterprise.  Prime Minister Li chooses his tools well. 

As we progress away from the trade road, the mountains loom closer and higher.  In the distance, the sun shines on everlasting snow and now, at the end of summer, there’s a distinct chill in the air when the sun starts to go down.  Winter up here is bleak.  I’ll have to make sure that we have enough supplies to last out till spring in case the road’s blocked by snow.  I shake my head with a grim laugh.  We haven’t succeeded yet and here I am already thinking about what to do afterwards. 

“What’s the joke?” asks Shao Ru, who’s riding beside me.  He seems totally unconcerned by the whole enterprise.  But Shao Ru’s an adventurer at heart, whereas I think too much.

“Nothing special.  How’s the little bundle coming on?”

“Surprisingly well.  He’s a quick learner and he thinks on his feet.  Plenty of grit, too.  Pity he’s a Prince.  Waste of talent.”  He takes a quick glance at me.  “After we’ve pulled this off, what’s his situation going to be?”

“No idea.  I suppose they might eventually recall him to the capital.  Or he could stay here as the Imperial representative.”

“And what about us?”

“No-one’s going to recall us once winter sets in.  It'll be next spring.”

“So we’re all going to be spending the winter together up this bloody mountain?”

“With luck.  Would you prefer the alternative?”

“Well, there are no more worries when you’re dead,” he says cheerfully.

The road gets steeper.  Our pace gets slower.  After three days, Qiu City’s in sight.  In the very clear air of the mountains, every detail’s visible from far away:  the city wall, the buildings huddled up the hill behind it and behind that, the Palace on its rock, walled and formidable.

“Riders approaching,” Shao Ru says.

I call a halt and wait.  A troop of ten men comes towards us and stops some distance away.  A man rides forward on a heavily-armoured warhorse.  He’s also in armour and under the unfamiliar helmet is the leathery impassive face of a barbarian tribesman.  He’s no longer young.  There’s only one person he can be.

I ride forward to meet him and bow.

“Commander Liao Shan of the Imperial Army greets my Lord.” I say politely.  “Am I addressing Lord Thokmay?”

“You are.  His Majesty King Wang Meng sends greetings.  We have prepared a place where you may camp.  We will accept your tribute tomorrow.  One will come to instruct you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns his horse and the whole pack of them rides off back the way they came.

“So you do that,” says Shao Ru.  “Man of few words, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t give us much time,” I say, frowning.

“It’ll be enough,” says Shao Ru.

A detachment of twenty men has already been sent to take the long and tortuous path up to the top of the plateau, led by the guides Ma Xiuying has sent us.  We have no way to communicate with them.  I just have to trust them to get into position by the appointed time,  five days from now, unseen and unsuspected.  The volunteers are mainly men from the mountains, used to this kind of terrain and extremely tough.  The guides themselves know every rock and crevice.  They’re all dressed as bandits, so if they’re caught, there won’t necessarily be a connection with us.   But it’s still a gamble.  If a patrol spots them and raises the alarm, the whole plan might fall through.

However, we’re committed now.

We find the camping place, which is in a narrow valley leading off from the main road.  The city’s very close.  It’s much colder here than down in Border Town.  We’re higher up and the mountains cut the sun off sooner.  The men huddle round campfires.  We light braziers to keep the tents warm.  Shao Ru, Liang Zhou and I are sharing one tent, the Prince and sub-officers another.    

Just before dusk, a palanquin comes bobbing down the path from the city, borne by four sweating soldiers.  They place it on the ground and a man gets out.  He’s tall and very thin, richly-dressed, middle-aged, rather foppish.  His face is long, his complexion muddy, his hair in a rather ridiculous bun on top of his head.  His expression’s a sneer.

I walk forward, salute and introduce myself.  He cuts me off, waving a hand.

“Yes, yes, I know who you are.  I am Yi Yong, the Palace steward.  You will deliver the tribute tomorrow two hours before noon.  I wish to inspect the goods beforehand.”

“This humble soldier regrets that the tribute has been carefully packed and Imperial seals affixed.  The seals can only be broken in the presence of the King of Qiu himself.  I can, however, provide a list so that the goods may be checked on arrival.” 

Yi Yong’s displeased. He snatches the list, unrolls it and reads it through.  He sniffs.

“I suppose this will have to do.  As for the other merchandise……”

“What other merchandise?”

His expression becomes a leer.  “The merchandise for the harem.”

“If you’re referring to his Highness the Sixth Imperial Prince, I’m afraid that his Highness has been suffering from the rigours of the journey and will require some days to recover.  He’s being attended by our doctor, who can explain further.”

Liang Zhou steps forward, salutes and begins a rigmarole about the motion of the wagon, the poor quality of the food and water and the effect of high altitudes on a delicate constitution.  Yi Yong rapidly loses interest and waves a hand to stop him.

“Very well, but his Majesty will not be pleased.”

“His Highness the Sixth Prince begs to reassure his Majesty that he wishes to be in his best looks before meeting his Majesty.” Liang Zhou says, straight-faced.

“Ah,” says Yi Yong, the leer deepening.  “We’ve heard reports about the Sixth Prince.” He comes a little closer and bends further in towards Liang Zhou.

“Is he as beautiful as they say?”

I see that the normally placid and polite Liang Zhou is restraining a desire to punch this unsavoury person on the nose, as indeed am I. 

“Undoubtedly,” Ah-Zhou says, his teeth slightly gritted.

“In that case, his Majesty will not object if the Prince’s entry is delayed a few days.  How many wagons will you bring into the city?”

“Three,” I reply. 

“You will bring them into the main square and then the goods will be transported into the Palace by our soldiers.”

“Understood.”

“You may only bring ten men with you, unarmed, and they must leave immediately the tribute is accepted.”

“Understood.”

“That’s all.” He turns round and steps back into the palanquin.  The four soldiers heave it up and set off up the steep road back to the city.

“The… the….” Liang Zhou is lost for words.

Shao Ru isn’t.  “Fucking bastard,” he says.

Unseen by us, the Prince has joined us.  “I was expecting something more sinister.  But he’s just a creep.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” I say.  “Our contact’s description was ‘cowardly and cruel’.”

The temperature takes a sudden plunge as the sun disappears completely.  We’ve got work to do.  We’re hoping to infiltrate twenty men over the next few days and their weapons will have to be hidden in the wagons tonight.  The carpenters have already prepared false floors for two of the wagons, so it doesn’t take long to hide swords, lances, bows and arrows and nail the floors back into place.  If all the soldiers are wearing the same kind of armour as Thokmay, we may have trouble.  On the other hand, the armour will slow them down a little.  We’ll get more of an idea tomorrow.

In the evening, I call the officers and sub-officers to my tent and hand out cups of wine.  It’s time for my pre-action pep talk.

“Tomorrow’s our opening move.  I want Lin Chen and Liang Zhou to accompany me into the city with the wagons.  I want you to observe as much as you can while we’re there:  count the number of men you see, what their weapons are, the gate defences, the layout of the town – I’ll be asking for your observations when we get back.  We’ll bring one wagon back to convey Young Master Yan on the appointed day and the other two will be left at the Black Snake stables, our safe house.  The cover story is that we’ve sold the wagons to Black Snake and there’ll be someone there to take delivery.  In two days’ time it’ll be market day.  At that moment, we’ll infiltrate twenty soldiers into the town dressed as peasants coming to market.  Young Master Qin has made an intelligent suggestion which we’ll be acting on.”

I nod at Qin Feng, who coughs and then says, “I thought that family groups would be less likely to arouse suspicion, so I suggested that some of our guys dress as women.  Cross-dressing parties were all the rage in the capital when I was last there so I can advise on clothing and so on.”

Everyone’s grinning at the thought, but it’s not such a stupid idea.

“They’ll get their butts pinched by the guards,” Shao Ru says, “If not worse.”

“The day after market day,” I continue, “Young Master Yan will enter the Palace, isolate the King and take him hostage.  At dawn the day after that, Shao Ru will arrive disguised as an Imperial courier with an urgent message from the Emperor for the King of Qiu.  He’ll gain access to the Palace and as he goes in, he’ll be followed by a group of our soldiers.  At the same time, another group will open the city gates and let in the main force led by me.  And our contact in the Palace will open the back gate and let in the men who will be waiting on the plateau. Tibetans are reputed to fight to the death, so we should be prepared for that.  The crucial points here are the opening of the gates.  If we fail there, we’ll have to rely on the men on the plateau and they’ll be outnumbered.  However having the King of Qiu in our hands will be a decisive factor.  So all the elements are equally important.  But we outnumber them four to one and I have every confidence in all of you.  So here’s to success.”

“Success,” they chorus.  We drink.  Exceptionally, I pour another round and then send them off to rest.

Shao Ru looks at me with a quizzical expression and I know what he’s thinking.  Multiple points of failure.  But no plan’s perfect.  It might just work.