Empire of Dragons

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘Many centuries ago,’ he began, scanning those ancient signs, ‘a great master lived in the Middle Kingdom. His name was Mo Tze. It was a dark time, marked by continuous strife between the most powerful families. This master developed a theory wherein the family and its ties of blood were considered the origin of all evil, of all favouritism and all egoism. He designed a society in which each man could be a member of a single universal community, not broken up into families; where every father was the father of all, each son the son of every man, every city the city of all and each citizen a member of each city, without distinction . . .’

  ‘We have a master who developed a similar theory as well. We call it cosmopolitismòs in the language of our greatest philosophers,’ Metellus could not help but observe, but then added immediately, ‘Go on, please.’

  ‘Master Mo considered war the worst of all evils, the human action most abhorred by the Heavens. He called warriors the fierce mastiffs of the abyss. And thus he decided to oppose war with every means available to him . . . including war!’

  Metellus shook his head in wonder. ‘We also have this concept of the absurd. We call it paradoxon.’

  ‘He was convinced that no human action is evil on its own. What makes it such is intent. He organized his followers into a secret sect which was divided into many autonomous groups, governed by iron-clad rules. The sect developed combat techniques of every kind, some purely defensive, others of devastating offensive power, techniques based on control of the mind and its unlimited energies . . .

  ‘If a family fell victim to tyranny, if a community – whether a mere village or even a city – suffered unjustified violence, those men entered into action. They moved in the dark like ghosts, attacked with the speed of a thunderbolt and then vanished, melting into the darkness. They would materialize from out of nowhere, as if answering a call that only they could hear, and their combat units took form as if by magic, in the most unthought-of places.

  ‘They struck with extreme harshness and always left their seal, so that the significance and the targets of their punishment would be evident. If one of them was wounded in combat, he would never allow himself to be taken alive, ensuring that the secrets of the sect would never be revealed . . .’

  ‘Like the men who attacked us . . . But if they fight in the name of justice, then why . . .’

  ‘There is no temptation greater than power. Nothing created by man is free from the risk of corruption, and you should know that well,’ continued Dan Qing. ‘Could such a formidable tool remain immune to the temptations of power?’

  Metellus thought of the legions, the extraordinary military machine of Rome, born to defend her and transformed through time into an instrument of bloody wars of conquest, of mass extermination, of cruel civil conflict.

  Dan Qing continued his story: ‘Upon the death of Master Mo, the sect stepped back into the shadows. For long periods it even seemed to have disappeared, so that people thought it had ceased to exist. In reality, during those long intervals of silence, the followers not only survived but made continuous progress by refining their fighting techniques and developing sophisticated systems of communication.

  ‘Such efficiency presupposes a completely secret hierarchical order, absolute internal unanimity and blind obedience. They succeeded so well in maintaining secrecy that in certain periods people began to believe that the existence of the sect was pure fantasy, a legend like the many others that circulate in this endless land. It may even be that such a belief was actively spread and sustained by the members of the sect themselves. But at the critical moment they would re-emerge and strike, often in places very distant from one another, and in the most diverse situations.

  ‘From what we know, it seems that, starting about fifty years ago, a momentous degeneration of the sect took place. Those at the top began to use the enormous power and the secrets of their combat arts to support or to oppose one candidate to the throne or another. This was one of the causes that led to the decline and the end of the glorious Han dynasty, which had governed the country for over four centuries . . . and to the division of the empire into three separate, rival kingdoms: Wei, Shu and Wu.’

  Metellus felt his head spinning: four centuries! A single dynasty had reigned in that land for a longer time than all the imperial dynasties of Rome put together.

  ‘These combatants,’ continued Dan Qing, ‘who had lost sight of their origins and their reasons for existing became known as the Flying Foxes. Others, a minority, separated from their brothers who had fallen away and took refuge in a secluded place whose location has always remained secret. They founded a community where they live according to the rules of brotherhood, sharing food, natural resources and water, devoting themselves to agriculture and sheep raising, but mainly to meditation, in which they excel.’

  ‘But now,’ said Metellus, ‘the Flying Foxes have sided against you and want you dead. Why?’

  Dan Qing rolled the bundle of reed canes and put it back into the cabinet, locking it with a key. ‘The answer may be very simple,’ he said. ‘Desire for supreme power.’

  ‘Or?’

  Dan Qing fixed him with a magnetic look. ‘I don’t know why, but I find myself telling you things that I never thought I would tell anyone, and this disturbs me.’

  ‘I would never have imagined that a feeling could disturb you. We can’t even hide our emotions: you can see them immediately by the way our faces change colour. But you never blush, or grow pale. Your face is a mask of wax.’

  ‘Yours is a race still in evolution; the material you are made of is still in tumult. We have reached perfection . . . but nonetheless we are subject to the will of the Heavens. And the Heavens can decide to disempower a dynasty – or an emperor – if it has been stained by infamy or tyranny, or by irremediable corruption. What happens then is called geming – revocation – and it is followed by a spirit of revolt that nothing can stop. This generates distress that not even an emperor can escape . . . But you will be faithful to me, will you not, Xiong Ying?’

  ‘I could not help my own emperor. I was forced to watch him die like a wretch. If I can help you, I will, but I must know who I am fighting for. Speak to me of your anguish, Prince.’

  ‘My father was a good man, a wise ruler who had the destiny of his people at heart. And I dream of nothing but restoring the unity of the Middle Kingdom. Why should the Heavens have revoked my family’s rule? The Flying Foxes are obedient to a dark force, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Have you done nothing you are ashamed of? Nothing that could cause emotion to flare under that wax mask of yours?’

  ‘How dare you! No one can ask me such a question!’ exclaimed Dan Qing. ‘Anyone else would already have paid dearly for such impudence!’

  ‘Nothing that has offended justice?’ demanded Metellus, drawing closer to Dan Qing.

  ‘What drives you to ask me such a thing? How dare you insist with such impertinence?’

  ‘Because I can sense your insecurity. There’s something about you I don’t understand. You defend yourself as though you had something to hide.’

  Dan Qing glared at him, then, slowly, one word at a time, said, ‘I have done nothing that it was not my right to do.’ He spun around and retreated into disdainful silence.

  Metellus turned to leave but stopped at the threshold. ‘We have a proverb,’ he said. ‘ “Summum jus, summa injuria.” ’

  Dan Qing did not say a word.

  ‘It means: “An extreme right is extreme injustice,” ’ concluded Metellus, and he left.

  22

  BAJ RENJIE APPEARED after the sun had risen, in fighting order, and asked to be admitted to the presence of Dan Qing.

  ‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘waiting any longer would be dangerous. The Flying Foxes know you are here and could attack at full strength at any time.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ replied the prince. ‘Assemble your men.’

  ‘They await your command to set forth, My Prince.’

  Da
n Qing widened his arms and two servants approached, fastened on his armour and hung his magnificent sword at his side.

  ‘You no longer need the barbarians who accompanied you here,’ said Baj Renjie. ‘You can give them leave to depart with the merchant.’

  ‘The Red Demons will follow us to our destination, to the castle of my master, Wangzi,’ replied Dan Qing.

  Baj Renjie did not dare to object, but the expression on his face left no doubt as to his humour.

  Outside, the officer found Metellus and his men, armed to the teeth as well, having their breakfast seated on a bench near the fish pool. He did not deign to look at them and joined his unit. There were about fifty men in all, half of them on horseback. They wore breast armour made of bronze plates joined by iron rings, leather tunics, boots and neckerchiefs. They did not have helmets, but wore their hair gathered at the nape of their neck and held in place by long ivory pins and by a ribbon that fell back on to their shoulders, topped by a round cap of dark felt. The horsemen bore bows slung over their shoulders and quivers, while the infantrymen were armed with sword and dagger. Metellus noticed that not even the foot soldiers wore helmets or carried shields. He had already realized that they relied on swordcraft for defence. Dan Qing must have been astonished by the Romans’ use of their javelins, shields and short arms.

  Dan Qing had reached the square. He raised his hand and Baj Renjie touched his heels to his horse’s flanks, urging him into a walk. His twenty-five horsemen followed. The prince joined the column, followed by Metellus on horseback and his men on foot. The Chinese infantrymen brought up the rear. Daruma set off last of all with his caravan, but he did not remain with them for long.

  In the early afternoon, the convoy stopped at a fork. The road on the right was wide and smooth, while the one on the left was narrow and steep and they could see how, in a couple of miles, it climbed up a rocky ridge.

  Daruma drove his camel forward and caught up with Dan Qing. ‘Prince!’ he called out, gesturing for him to stop. Dan Qing pulled in on his horse’s reins. ‘Prince, I’d say that it is here that we must part company. I imagine that you will choose the road to the left, a route I certainly cannot take myself.’

  ‘You have done so on other occasions,’ protested Dan Qing.

  ‘Not with a caravan of this size and under such dangerous circumstances. If you are attacked, we would only be in the way. You will give my best wishes to Master Wangzi.’

  ‘I am certain that he wishes to see you, to thank you for having completed your mission.’

  ‘Upon my return, I shall send a messenger to arrange a meeting. Tell him that I have a great desire to speak with him and please extend my most respectful regards.’

  Metellus rode up. ‘Did I hear you say that our roads separate here? Did I hear you well?’

  ‘Yes, you heard me well, Commander,’ replied Daruma. ‘Your Chinese is getting better every day. Don’t fear, I will stop here on my return journey and we will embark on the westward road together.’

  Metellus replied in koinè: ‘It makes no sense for us to separate. The prince has his own guard. He doesn’t need us.’

  Dan Qing turned at those words, realizing that they had been uttered in a language he was not meant to understand. Metellus could guess at his thoughts and this made him feel uncomfortable, especially after the way they had left each other the day before.

  Daruma replied in the same language: ‘Don’t panic . . .’

  ‘I’m not panicking.’

  ‘Yes, you are. You think that we’ll lose touch in this endless land and never find each other again, or that I will take another route and renege on my promise to take you back home. You are wrong. Listen well: it’s obvious that I can’t make it up that mule track with this caravan. As far as your journey is concerned, once you’ve arrived at the monastery the prince will make a decision. Almost certainly, his master will put him in contact with the forces that will support him in his endeavours. If he leaves for Luoyang, you can decide whether to follow him there, where I will be for at least a month. Or, more probably, you may decide to remain at the monastery and wait for me to return.’

  ‘What if something happens to you?’

  ‘This could occur in any case, even if we don’t separate. But you may be certain that the prince is no ingrate. He would provide you with guides capable of taking you back. Trust me, Commander, you’ll see that the word of an Indian merchant can be just as worthy as that of a Roman officer. We’ll meet again at this crossroads in one month’s time, or we’ll see each other at Luoyang. The prince knows how he can get a message through to me. You will not regret having followed him on this last part of his expedition. He feels threatened and he trusts you implicitly. Don’t disappoint him and you won’t be sorry.’

  Having said this, he approached Dan Qing and bade him a respectful farewell. ‘May you have a safe journey, Prince, and may you be destined to have good fortune in your future.’

  ‘I owe you much, Daruma,’ replied the prince.

  ‘You’ll find a way of returning the favour,’ replied Daruma. ‘A special concession for silk trading would be a sign of gratitude that I would greatly appreciate, for example, but we will have time to speak about that when we have been able to put all the dangers and vicissitudes behind us.’ He made a deferential bow, then urged on his camel and started off down the route to the right, followed by his servants and assistants.

  ‘You may go with him if you like,’ said Dan Qing to Metellus. ‘You are free.’

  Metellus said nothing. He felt his men’s eyes upon him and understood how lost they felt in the heart of this boundless land, but he knew that he had to keep his word. He did not want to abandon the prince before their journey’s end and he was certain he was serving a just cause, but he didn’t want to leave his men at the mercy of someone else’s decisions. He said, ‘I shall accompany you to your destination, but if I do so, I must have the command of the entire escort, including the Chinese forces.’

  Dan Qing expressed astonishment for the first time ever. ‘Why? It’s best that each commander be responsible for his own men.’

  ‘And thus it shall be. But each one of us will have different objectives, which I shall establish.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘May I speak to you in private?’

  Dan Qing nodded, dismounted and the two men walked a short distance away from the others.

  ‘If it’s true that the Flying Foxes have located us, they will know exactly where we are now. They have surely kept us in their sights this whole time and may be somewhere close by. If they haven’t attacked us thus far, it’s because they don’t have sufficient forces.’

  ‘That is likely,’ admitted Dan Qing.

  ‘They will do so as soon as they are numerous enough to fight us or capture us. This is my plan. We’ll all travel together through a stretch of the wood. When we emerge, one of your soldiers will be wearing your garments and carrying your weapons, and he will be riding your horse. You will be dressed like one of the servants who transport the victuals. Your substitute will go down the road for Luoyang with Baj Renjie and the Chinese forces. That is exactly what the Flying Foxes will expect and consider the most logical and rational choice: for the prince to be escorted by his own countrymen, whom he trusts and who speak the same language.

  ‘In the meantime, you will come with us. We’ll all be dressed like farmers and we’ll cover the path on foot, using our horses as pack animals. We’ll only travel after night has fallen, moving in three small groups at a certain distance from each other. During the day we’ll stop and remain concealed in the forest. If I’m right, the Flying Foxes will go after Baj Renjie and the man impersonating you.’

  ‘Baj Renjie will gladly sacrifice himself for me.’

  ‘I can take his place, if you prefer. In that case, my men and I will journey with your double and eventually meet up with Daruma, while you climb the path to the monastery dressed as a servant, with your Chinese co
mmander. It does not make much difference to me, but I am sure that there is no other way for you to reach your destination unharmed. I’ll wait for your response.’

  Dan Qing stood alone in silent meditation for a short time, then approached Metellus again and said, ‘We’ll do as you say. You will escort me.’

  He called his Chinese commander and informed him of the plan. Baj Renjie looked at him with an incredulous expression and tried to object, but the prince cut him off immediately: ‘This is my irrevocable decision, Baj Renjie. If you are faithful to me, you will obey. Or leave.’

  The officer swallowed his indignation and bowed respectfully. He ordered some of his men to precede them into the forest and arrange for the disguising.

  Dan Qing took him aside for a moment. ‘Listen, Baj Renjie, I know that this order is bitter for you, but I believe that this is my only chance of escaping attack and preparing my return to Luoyang. May the Heavens protect you. If all goes well, we shall see each other in Luoyang at the tavern of the White Mulberry.’

  Baj Renjie bowed, then mounted his horse and rode off at the head of his unit, flanked by the servant impersonating Dan Qing.

  ‘The route they will cover is mostly in the open,’ observed Metellus. ‘Whoever is watching them will have to remain at a certain distance so as not to be seen. They will not be able to distinguish your double from you.’

  The Romans and the prince entered the thick underbrush and prepared for their journey. The men removed their armour and loaded it on to the horses, then dressed in native garb and found shelter under a huge oak, where they could rest before setting off.

  The days of their imprisonment were long past; they were in excellent physical shape and in a good humour as well. Accustomed as they were to long military campaigns, they felt quite at ease with their mission. The journey had not been taxing or particularly perilous. Rufus’s wound had healed well and had not suppurated, proof that Chinese medicine was far superior to the Roman. As the prince stripped with the help of two servants, Metellus noticed that he still wore bandages on his arm and chest, but they were not stained, a sure sign that he was healing as well.