TUN-HUANG Page 5

  At daybreak he saw the high walls of a large city rising precipitously before him. Columns of black smoke rose from its walls, veiling the sky. Only the portion immediately above the city wall was soiled by the black smoke, for the rest of the sky shone an unusual crimson. Hsing-te counted the animals which had followed him and let them rest.

  Besides his own horse, six camels and twelve horses had trekked after him like faithful retainers. There was a hushed silence.

  Hsing-te rested. On the right-hand side of the walled city was a gate. An army was lining up to enter the city. Groups of cavalry alternated with infantry, and it took some time for the whole force to get in.

  As soon as everyone had entered, Hsing-te led his own animals toward the gate. After a short distance he stopped again. Another group of troops had appeared a short distance before him. It was clear that they, too, were preparing to enter the city. The group got into formation.

  Hsing-te decided to enter first without waiting for this unit. He led the horses and camels to the gate and paused briefly to count heads. Then he passed through the large, stone city gate.

  Inside the fortress, he was assailed by the putrid odor of corpses mingled with the usual smell of the battlefield. A street sloped up directly from the gate and at the top of the rise was an open space filled with soldiers.

  “Whose army is this?” Hsing-te addressed his first question to a Chinese-looking soldier who walked toward him.

  “What?” The soldier glared at Hsing-te. Just then, several others ran toward them shouting, in Chinese, “Clear the road.” Obediently, Hsing-te led the animals to a corner of the open space. The unit he had seen at the gate had just come in.

  “Where is this?” Hsing-te repeated his question to another soldier standing nearby.

  “What?” This man also scowled fiercely. Soon after, Hsing-te saw several soldiers running forward to make him prisoner. There was a fire somewhere in the garrison, and Hsing-te could see smoke billowing up from the other side of a small grove. He was separated from his animals, and both his arms were pulled by the soldiers dragging him away. The streets were all narrow and uneven.

  After some time, Hsing-te and his captors passed what appeared to be the marketplace, where a jumble of small houses stood. Then they entered a quiet residential district with rows of homes surrounded by long mud walls. If it had not been for the recent battle, this city would have been wealthy, peaceful, and bustling. Hsing-te turned many corners, but wherever he went he only saw soldiers. Not a single civilian was in sight.

  Before long, Hsing-te was led into a courtyard surrounded by high mud walls. Within it many houses were scattered about, each surrounded by spacious grounds. Soldiers were everywhere. In front of one of these homes, Hsing-te was told to stop and wait.

  In no time he was surrounded by a large group of soldiers. They were all Chinese. They all had the same facial bone structure and skin coloring as Hsing-te. They understood the same language, too, but seemed to have no knowledge of China.

  Hsing-te asked the first soldier where his native home was, and the man named a place that Hsing-te had not even heard of. And, as if insulted by this question, the soldier struck Hsing-te without warning. More cautiously, Hsing-te made conversation with another man, but he was again beaten and knocked down for no reason.

  From then on, whenever Hsing-te opened his mouth he was beaten. He couldn’t understand this at all. As this was going on, a man of about twenty-eight or twenty-nine, who seemed to be a company commander, appeared on the scene. He came to Hsing-te and asked his name, native home, and how he had come to the city.

  Hsing-te answered these questions honestly. Whenever he replied, he was dealt a blow. Each time, he felt his whole body float up and became limp, and he fell lightly to the ground. Hsing-te decided not to say anything. He thought it was because he spoke the language that he was in trouble. After he had received a severe beating, his clothes were torn off and replaced with a soldier’s uniform. Hsing-te knew that he looked no different from the rest of the soldiers with his new uniform. He was then taken to a residence a short distance away. Here, too, the courtyard teemed with soldiers. The men, in groups of three or four, were eating as they stood.

  Hsing-te was told to wait in a corner of the yard. Once more soldiers surrounded him. Afraid that he would be beaten again, he did not speak. Then one of the men came up to Hsing-te and handed him a bowl of noodles, saying, “Hurry up and eat this. We’re leaving soon.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Hsing-te.

  But the soldier knew nothing about the destination. He knew only that a battle against the Uighurs was awaiting them. Hsing-te realized then that he had been forced into a military campaign with no knowledge of where he was and whose soldiers surrounded him.

  That night Hsing-te was excused from the battle with the Uighurs. Instead, he was assigned with over ten other men to guard the horses in the pastures outside the city. It was then Hsing-te learned that his unit was made up entirely of Chinese soldiers, and that it was the vanguard detachment of the Hsi-hsia. He learned, too, that this town was Liang-chou, which had been completely taken over by the Hsi-hsia, and that the battle last night had been between the Hsi-hsia and the Uighurs, who had come to the aid of the Liang-chou garrison.

  Hsi-hsia was determined to launch a full-scale invasion of Liang-chou, even at the risk of war with Sung China, and had succeeded in conquering Liang-chou in only three days.

  Hsing-te passed the months from early 1027 to the spring of the following year as a common soldier in the Chinese unit of the Hsi-hsia army.

  Since entering Liang-chou, Hsing-te had only seen soldiers in the garrison. Of the natives who had lived here before Liang-chou fell into Hsi-hsia hands, those who could fight had all been drafted into the Hsi-hsia army, while useless elders, women, and children were transferred outside the town to work on farms or to herd cattle in the rich pastures.

  The soil in Liang-chou was very fertile. From just outside the city walls, the well-cultivated land stretched for miles. Thus Hsi-hsia possessed the richest agricultural lands west of the Yellow River. The horses raised in this area, too, were considered the best in the world. The second-best came from Kan-ching in China. The horses of the Chin and Wei areas were large-boned, but they lacked speed and could not be used as military mounts. North of the walled city, grazing pastureland extended toward the horizon. From atop the city wall, one could see innumerable groups of horses in the distance. A great number of people were required to look after the horses. In occupying Liang-chou, the Hsi-hsia had not harmed a single native. Instead, they had conscripted the able-bodied and sent the rest outside to work in the farms or with cattle.

  This was not the fate of the Liang-chou natives alone. The Hsi-hsia also lived under this code. When Hsi-hsia youths reached the age of fifteen, they were drafted, and then either taken into regular service or given unskilled, menial jobs within the army. All Hsi-hsia soldiers in the regular army were given military mounts and arms and were completely equipped. Those rejected by the army were sent to till the fields around Liang-chou or Kan-ching.

  It was estimated that 500,000 troops from the Hsi-hsia regular army had invaded Liang-chou. Besides these men, there were other armies composed of prisoners of war from various subject tribes. Some 100,000 were stationed in Liang-chou and 250,000 in Hsing-ch’ing. Another 70,000 men patrolled the border regions.

  The Chinese battalion to which Hsing-te belonged was the vanguard of the regular army, made up of hand-picked heroes from the Chinese. In times of battle, this Chinese force always went to the foremost front lines. Only brave and experienced young men were selected for this unit from former prisoners of war and long-time residents of the area, without regard to their birthplace or circumstance. It was by sheer accident that Hsing-te had stumbled into Liang-chou the day after the battle, and that he was assigned to this force.

  Almost daily, Hsing-te received military training outside the walled city. He was slightly built
and delicate in constitution, but he took his training seriously. If his superiors decided that he was useless as a soldier, he would be sent to the other side of the Yellow River to clear the wastelands. He preferred to remain in Liang-chou as a common soldier, as trying as this life was, rather than be shipped off there.

  During that year Hsing-te took part in three battles against the Uighurs of Kan-chou. Each time he had fainted; the first two times he had been badly wounded but somehow managed to return to his unit with his horse. All Hsi-hsia soldiers secured themselves to their mounts with hooked metal bands so that if they died in the saddle they would not fall off. Thus the horses always returned home after battle carrying the dead and wounded tied onto their backs.

  Hsing-te’s assignment had been to hook a whirlwind cannon onto the saddle and dash through the enemy lines scattering a shower of stones. He was not strong enough to maneuver heavy weapons while riding, but no strength was necessary to manipulate a whirlwind cannon. In fact, his slight build and light frame made him very suitable as a cannon operator.

  In all three battles, Hsing-te had leaned forward in his saddle, looked at nothing, and concentrated solely on shooting the stones. It took courage for even a very reckless soul to run through the middle of the enemy lines, but Hsing-te’s horse carried his master straight through without prompting. Each time Hsing-te had fainted, coming to only after he was back at base and was taken off his horse. Hsing-te had no idea how he had crossed the enemy lines or how he had returned.

  During the third battle, Hsing-te was wounded and regained consciousness only as the wounds were being dressed by a comrade. He had no recollection of being struck. Probably it had happened after he had fainted. From these experiences, he came to the conclusion that going to battle was not so hard after all. After shooting his stones, he was free to faint or do anything else, leaving the rest to fate. His horse took care of everything and brought him home.

  In his free time between battles, Hsing-te roamed around looking for someone who knew the Hsi-hsia writing system. But not a single person in his unit had this knowledge. In fact, no one even knew whether Hsi-hsia writing existed or not. Someone among the officers might possibly know, but as a common soldier, Hsing-te could not hope for the opportunity to speak to them. Any superiors whom he could casually approach could not even read Chinese, much less Hsi-hsia.

  Hsing-te had thought that writing would be used in Liang-chou and Hsing-ch’ing, where there were many government organizations as well as numerous businesses conducted by inhabitants. But in a frontier garrison such as Liang-chou, writing was far removed from daily life.

  Hsing-te had spent an unexpected year in Liang-chou. In the spring of 1028, rumors were rampant throughout the unit that an all-out invasion of Kan-chou was imminent. Anyone could see that this was inevitable. For the Hsi-hsia, who had already occupied the area around Hsing-ch’ing and Liang-chou and who had crossed Chinese territory to capture Ling-chou, it was natural that the next target would be Kan-chou, capital of the small Uighur kingdom, which fought against Hsi-hsia at the least provocation. Hsing-te also anticipated that the invasion of Kan-chou would take place soon.

  Toward the end of March there was a sudden bustle of activity outside the city. New troops began to arrive daily from many parts. At night, from the top of the wall, one could see the campfires of these forces stretching out interminably toward the southeast. The units stationed within the wall were busy preparing their weapons. One day in early April, all the troops were gathered together in the clearing outside the city. Li Yüan-hao, commander in chief of the army and eldest son of the Hsi-hsia emperor, Li Teming, had come to inspect his armies. He spent quite some time reviewing each army.

  Hsing-te’s unit of Chinese troops had its turn toward the end, so he and his fellow soldiers were kept standing from early morning until dusk.

  At twilight Hsing-te’s group was inspected. The yellow sun was setting in the west, and everything—the clearing where Hsing-te’s force stood, the city wall, the oasis stretching out east, and the plains in the west—was suffused by the crimson afterglow. To Hsing-te, who had only heard of Li Yüan-hao and now saw him for the first time, the youthful commander seemed magnificent. He appeared to be twenty-four or twenty-five. He was just a shade over five feet tall and slight in build, but he had a stately, imposing bearing. At the same time, bathed by the rays of the setting sun, he appeared to be crimson-colored.

  As he walked slowly before Hsing-te’s unit, he seemed to be inspecting each individual from head to toe. After looking over each man, he gave him a little smile before passing on to the next. That gentle smile touched the hearts of the soldiers. His glances also mysteriously stirred the recipient, so that each man felt inspired to lay down his life gladly for this leader.

  At that moment it occurred to Hsing-te how incongruous it was to find himself a follower of Li Yüan-hao. It also seemed strange to Hsing-te that he would willingly die in battle for this prince, and that he was about to set out for battle. And he could not understand why he was not particularly disturbed by the prospect.

  After the inspection had ended and the men had returned to the city, Hsing-te was called in by Chu Wang-li, commander of three hundred men. This leader, a man past forty, had performed numerous acts of heroism, and his valor was unmatched, even among the dauntless vanguard youths.

  “I hear that your name is written on your uniform.” Chu Wang-li looked critically at Hsing-te’s clothes. Then staring at a spot, he asked, “Is this your name?” He pointed to the letters: Chao Hsing-te.

  “That’s right,” Hsing-te answered.

  “If I could read and write, I would be more of a success. No matter how much of a hero I may be, my lack of education holds me back. From now on I’ll take special care of you, so you can come and read the orders from headquarters whenever I need you,” he said.

  “If it’s just orders, I’ll be glad to read them for you any time.” As he replied Hsing-te calculated that it wouldn’t be a disadvantage to know this superior.

  “Well, then, I have to read one now.” Wang-li pointed to a piece of cloth he held in his hand.

  Hsing-te stepped closer to Wang-li to get a better look. The writing was not Chinese. It was clearly Hsi-hsia, which was similar to Chinese but definitely not Chinese. No matter how hard Hsing-te tried, he could not read it. When Hsing-te informed Wang-li that he could not read it because it was not Chinese, Wang-li looked scornfully at him and said, “You mean to say you can only read Chinese? All right then, be off now!” He raised his voice angrily.

  Hsing-te did not obey. “This is Hsi-hsia writing. If you introduce me to someone who knows it, I’ll be able to read it in two or three days. I’ve wanted to learn Hsi-hsia for some time. I’d like to go to Hsing-ch’ing. If you let me, I think I can soon be of help to you.”

  “Hmm.” Wang-li’s eyes glittered as he stared at Hsing-te. “All right,” he said. “If you survive the next battle, I’ll ask my commander to let you learn Hsi-hsia. I’m a man of my word. If we both survive I’ll definitely keep my promise to you. Remember that!” said Wang-li.

  Then Hsing-te asked his superior why someone who could not read would notice the writing on Hsing-te’s uniform.

  “It wasn’t I. Li Yüan-hao noticed it.” Wang-li would say no more.

  After this incident, Hsing-te was called in by Wang-li from time to time and given special duties. The commander was interested in him because he could read and write. He also seemed to respect Hsing-te.

  In mid-May, Li Yüan-hao personally led the whole army in an invasion of Kan-chou, the Uighur garrison. Hsing-te was called in again by Wang-li the night before their unit was scheduled to leave as part of the vanguard.

  “I’ll let you join my unit. My troops have never lost a battle yet. About eighty percent die in battle, but the survivors always win the battle. As a special favor to you, I’ll let you join me,” said Wang-li. Hsing-te felt neither too pleased nor displeased at the news.

  Wa
ng-li continued, “I’m thinking of building a monument for our unit if we win the next battle. I’ll let you write the epitaph.”

  “Where do you plan to build it?”

  “Who can tell? I don’t know yet—perhaps in the middle of the desert or in some village in Kan-chou. If we win but lose most of the men in battle, we’ll build a monument on that spot.”

  “What if we should die?”

  “Who? You mean me?” Wang-li’s characteristically sharp eyes glittered. “Even I may die. Build a monument even if I die.”

  “And what if I die?”

  “It would complicate things. Try your best to survive. But you might be killed at that. Everyone who has talked with me on the night before a battle has been killed. Yes, you may die.”

  Hsing-te’s new commander spoke in this vein. Hsing-te did not like what Wang-li had to say, but he was not particularly frightened by the thought of dying. When he asked whether the writing on the monument should be in Chinese or Hsi-hsia, Wang-li roared, “Stupid! Naturally, Chinese must be used on the monument. We are not Hsi-hsia. The Hsi-hsia language is just good for reading orders, that’s all.”

  Rumor had it that Wang-li had formerly been a Sung soldier at Liang-chou and had been taken prisoner when the city fell into Hsi-hsia hands. Since then he had been assigned to the vanguard of the Hsi-hsia army. Naturally, this was just gossip and no one had asked him about it. Wang-li was terribly ashamed of his past, and it was said that should anyone mention the subject, he would get into a terrible rage.

  Hsing-te liked this middle-aged hero.

  CHAPTER III

  It took a whole day—from dawn of one day until dawn of the next—for the Hsi-hsia army to set out from Liang-chou on its way to invade Kan-chou. The total force of two hundred thousand men were divided into more than ten armies, which left through the stone city gate at one- or two-hour intervals, so a continual stream throughout the day and night headed west from the fertile plains which lay to the city’s north. Each army was preceded by a cavalry force, after which came a long line of infantry, followed by hundreds of camels laden with food supplies.