Straining his hoarse voice, Wang-li shouted, “What do we care about the Muslims? Who’s afraid of elephants? It makes no difference to us whether they come or not. Our enemy is the Hsi-hsia. It’s Yüan-hao we’re after. Those bastards are coming to kill off all the Chinese and to destroy Sha-chou so that nothing will remain of it.”
Wang-li immediately ordered his unit to set off.
Hsing-te followed Wang-li and joined him at the head of the unit. The army marched down the hill into the desert and made for the oasis on the horizon. Hsing-te saw Kuang’s caravan start about two hundred yards in front. Apparently the presence of Kuang’s caravan bothered Wang-li, and he quickened the men’s pace. But no matter how fast Wang-li’s unit traveled, the gap between the two groups did not diminish. Kuang’s banner, a solid yellow on the horizon, maintained that distance as they marched over the sand dunes.
The winter cold had lessened somewhat from the previous day. Shortly before noon the forces entered wastelands with willow groves scattered here and there. Walking became easier and the men quickened their pace. Soon, in the fields surrounding Sha-chou, they reached a settlement.
As before, Kuang continued to ride ahead. From a distance it appeared as though he, with his family banner fluttering high in the air, was leading two thousand of his own men.
In the fields numerous irrigation ditches were laid out at regular intervals, and since they ran diagonally across the troops’ path, the men were forced to walk a little and then detour, go on a little further and make another detour, just as if they were walking across a green checkerboard.
The unit reached the banks of the Tang River. Willows grew there and the river was frozen over. When they had crossed it, Hsing-te saw the walls of Sha-chou ahead. They were more splendid and ornate than any others he had seen on the frontier. They reminded him of his motherland, China.
The troops soon entered the marketplace outside the city near the South Gate. Shops selling all types of wares lined the streets, and the cobblestone roads were filled with men and women, young and old, jostling one another. It was inevitable that in less than a day a great catastrophe would befall this town, but these residents were blissfully ignorant of this and the town was bustling and peaceful. However, they watched with curiosity as weary soldiers with features like theirs entered the city. Hsing-te felt as if he had returned to China. Everything he saw reminded him of home.
At the open space just outside the city gate, the troops ended their long, grueling march. Led by Yen-hui, Hsing-te and Wang-li went on to Regional Commander Ts’ao Hsien-shun’s palace in the city center. It was a lavish and beautiful building.
Ts’ao Hsien-shun, a man in his fifties, was small in stature, but he was every inch a warrior, with flashing eyes and an air of determination. He leaned back a little on his chair and listened without expression to his brother’s tale, after which he said, “I knew we would be invaded by the Hsi-hsia sometime. It is happening earlier than I expected. We’ll have to fight, to defend the honor of all those Sha-chou regional commanders since the days of Chang I-ch’ao. My only regret is that Sha-chou does not have the military power to oppose the mighty Hsi-hsia armies. This will mean the Ts’ao dynasty will fall during my reign, but it cannot be helped. It is said that in the past this country was subdued by the Turfans, and that for years the Chinese were forced to wear Turfan dress. Only during festivals were they allowed Chinese clothes, and at such times they looked up to heaven and lamented their bondage. The people will probably be placed in a similar position again. But it is impossible for one race to control this land forever. Just as the Turfans left, the Hsi-hsia will probably leave, too. And after their departure our descendants will remain, prevailing through it like indestructible weeds. Of this only are we certain. It is because there are more Chinese souls resting here than those of any other race. This is Chinese soil.”
Hsien-shun spoke calmly with no sign of agitation. As might be expected of one who had been designated regional commander twenty years previously by Sung China upon his father Tsung-shou’s death in 1016 and had since ruled Shachou, he had self-possession and dignity.
Hsing-te sent a messenger to call Kuang to the palace, and he arrived immediately. Hsing-te and Kuang related the situation prevailing in Central Asia to Hsien-shun, but the latter was not at all surprised. He waited for Kuang to finish his tale and then said, “The Muslims may invade, but we are not really sure, are we? Sha-chou will probably be destroyed by the Hsi-hsia before that takes place. Don’t worry about it, young heir of the Wei-ch’ih family.”
Kuang stared hard at the Sha-chou ruler, then said, “Do you mean you think the Muslims will fight the Hsi-hsia?”
“That is very probable,” replied Hsien-shun.
“Which side do you think will win?”
“It’s hard to say. Unlike Sha-chou, the Muslims and the Hsi-hsia both have great military power and, as was the case with China and Khitan, both will suffer victories and losses and casualties.
The determined young man appeared to reflect upon this for a time, then said, “I’m going to live until then. I’ll have to live to see such fascinating times. The banner of the Wei-ch’ih dynasty will survive the war.”
Hsing-te reflected that no matter what the times brought, this rash young man would live through it all just as he had said. No doubt he would use elephants in place of camels, and travel back and forth between east and west with his family banner waving high in the desert.
After the meal was ended, Hsien-shun told Wang-li that it would probably be three or four days before the Hsi-hsia army attacked, so he wanted Wang-li’s forces to have a complete rest. In the meantime, Hsien-shun’s own troops would be preparing for battle, digging traps for enemy horses outside the city wall.
Wang-li, Hsing-te, and Kuang left the palace. Once outside, Wang-li and Hsing-te parted with Kuang.
In their quarters, Wang-li mentioned that whether or not Hsien-shun was a good military strategist, he would follow his advice and have a good rest. The troops and officers should sleep for three solid days and nights, just as Hsien-shun had suggested; they could wake up when the battle drums of the Hsi-hsia army sounded. Hsing-te thought he must be joking, but Wang-li looked serious.
Five of the seventeen temples in Sha-chou were given over to the troops for billets. Hsing-te went to the room assigned him and fell asleep.
He was awakened in the middle of the night. Drums were rolling. Thinking that the Hsi-hsia had come, he went outside. There were no signs of an attack, and small groups of armed soldiers passed by at regular intervals on the road in front of the temple, bathed in cold, wintry moonlight.
Toward dawn, Hsing-te was awakened once more. This time the commotion came from crowds of people far and near. He could hear human voices as well as the neighing of horses. Hsing-te went outdoors again. Daylight was beginning to illuminate the area. A continuous line of evacuees was passing by: women, children, and old people. Here everything was conducted efficiently, it seemed. After that, Hsing-te interrupted his sleep only to eat. Each time he got up the tumult in the town had increased, but by this time he had learned to sleep through it all.
By the evening following their arrival in Sha-chou, Hsing-te awoke feeling completely rested. The soldiers all started to get up as if it had been pre-planned and left their barracks to gather in the square, although no special orders had been issued. Wang-li also came. About half the two thousand troops had come to the square and had built bonfires here and there, about which they were now gathered.
“Awake already?” Wang-li asked as he saw Hsing-te.
“I couldn’t sleep any more if I tried,” replied Hsing-te.
“Let the rest of the men sleep one more night. Then have them gather here early tomorrow morning. We’ll probably stast battle with the Hsi-hsia army tomorrow evening or the following morning.
With that, Wang-li returned to his quarters.
Hsing-te approached one of the bonfires nearby. He had thought that the
group were soldiers, but he found that they were Kuang’s men. Kuang was also present. As soon as he saw Hsing-te he got up and came to him, signaling to Hsing-te with a thrust of his chin to follow him. Hsing-te followed him a little away from the bonfire, and Kuang said, “I’ve been looking for you since yesterday. Do you intend to die or live through the coming battle?”
“I haven’t given it much thought. I feel just as I’ve always felt before a battle. I don’t know what fate has in store for me. I don’t particularly wish to die, nor do I have any special desire to live,” Hsing-te answered.
Hsing-te actually felt this way. He knew that it was impossible for the forces in the city to repel the Hsi-hsia invasion. If they could hold out one or two days at the most, they should consider it a great feat. In all probability, Sha-chou, like Kua-chou, would be reduced to ashes and the majority of soldiers and civilians would perish. Even if their lives should be spared, it was clear that misery alone awaited them.
He had no way of knowing whether he would survive. Suddenly, Hsing-te recalled the naked woman on the board who was being sold in the marketplace outside K’ai-feng years before. As he thought of her intrepid attitude toward death, he felt courage seeping into him.
“As you say, whether you live or die depends upon fate,” said Kuang. “But in any case, let me keep your necklace for you. If you should survive, it will keep you from want. It’s dangerous to carry it around on the battlefield. The bastards in the city have no place to hide their wealth, and rich and poor are at a loss. Anyway, this town will be reduced to ashes. Outside the walled city is the desert. From the east the Hsi-hsia will come, and from the west the Muslims.”
With a bland look, Kuang spoke as if he were giving a final argument for a case. This very blandness of expression, as reflected in the shadowy dusk light, appeared to Hsing-te as complete insensitivity.
Kuang continued: “Have you looked around the city? It’s an amusing sight. No one knows what to do. They are all in a daze. The decisive ones have packed all their worldly goods on camels and horses and left, but they will soon lose everything. Even before the Muslims come to the desert, the Asha and Lung tribes, who are on the lookout, will get them. There’s no chance, as there is with us, you know. It’s a foregone conclusion that they’ll take the horses and goods, strip the men clean, and then abandon them!”
Kuang suddenly lowered his voice and continued, “But no matter what happens, I’ll do all right. I know of a place to hide valuables. Whether the Hsi-hsia or the Muslims invade, that place alone is safe.” Kuang silently watched Hsing-te as if waiting for his reply. But Hsing-te said nothing. Kuang spoke again. “How about it? I’ll store the necklace in the safest place for you. I’m not trying to take the necklace away from you. If you survive, I’ll definitely return it to you. Give me the necklace!”
Hsing-te didn’t have the remotest desire to let Kuang keep the necklace for him. As Kuang noticed his lack of interest, he changed his tone and said, “I don’t mind telling you where the hiding-place is. You’d agree to it if you could be present when we buried it, wouldn’t you? Do you still object?”
“Bury it?” Hsing-te asked.
“That’s right. I’m going to bury all the treasure until the war is over. I’m making you a kind offer to bury your necklace with the rest.”
“Where will you bury it?”
“I can’t tell you that so easily. If you’ll let me bury your necklace with my things, then I’ll tell you. If you won’t, why should I tell you? No one else knows about this place. If the treasures are buried there, they’ll be absolutely safe. Even if all of Sha-chou is turned into a battlefield, my hiding-place will be safe. No matter how many years the wars may continue, my treasures will be all right. That’s the kind of place it is.”
Kuang apparently thought that he might as well tell Hsing-te the rest, since he had told him so much already, and continued, “Since last night my men have been preparing a large storage cave. I’ve also told the Ts’ao family that, if they wished, I’d be willing to store their valuables, too. They distrust me and won’t accept my offer, but in the end they’re sure to come begging for my help. We’re leaving at dawn tomorrow, and they’ll probably come by then. You think it over. If you can’t decide by then, you’re out of luck.”
When Kuang finished, he straightened up and returned to his men.
These words left an impression on Hsing-te. He wondered if there really were such a place. Suddenly, he felt an urge to know where it was. He felt that there was something he should hide there. As yet, he was not exactly sure what it should be, but … something.
However, he shortly regained his usual composure. He was aware of Kuang’s real motives in taking advantage of the confusion. Kuang actually might know of such a place. His plan, of course, was to amass as many valuables as possible for himself later.
Apparently, Kuang felt that he alone was immune to the fate which threatened the Chinese. Even though all the others would be killed, he seemed to think that he alone would survive.
But there was no reason why Kuang should be spared. There was no telling when a stray arrow might hit him, or when he might be captured and killed. It was just that Kuang had decided that he alone would not die. At this thought, Hsing-te felt a sudden warmth which he had never before felt for this cocky scoundrel.
Hsing-te approached the bonfire where the group was huddled and motioned to Kuang with his chin, just as Kuang had done to him shortly before. Kuang came immediately and said, “How about it? Have you decided to do it? It is best to leave it with me, isn’t it?”
Hsing-te replied, “Yes, I’ll trust you with the necklace. In exchange, I’d like to see the place.”
“You can come to the place with me tomorrow. Be here at dawn.”
Kuang reflected on this for a bit, then said, “I’ll tell you because I trust you, but don’t tell another soul. If this should leak out, I’ll know that you talked. The secret cave is at Tun-huang, in the Thousand Buddha Caves of the Ming-sha mountains. I’ve located two or three suitable enclosures deep inside the stone caves.”
He looked directly at Hsing-te, as if to say, “How about that!” He continued, “The Hsi-hsia troops probably won’t touch anything there. Yüan-hao is a Buddhist. They won’t burn or destroy it. At present there are over three hundred stone caves carved out there. In several of them are half-finished holes. We’ll put the treasures in these and seal them. Even if the Muslims should invade and the Thousand Buddha Caves are devastated, there is little chance that they will discover the secret holes within. Muslims avoid approaching anything of a Buddhist nature. I doubt that they will use these caves for billets or horse stables, for instance. Even if they should, the secret holes will be safe.”
The Thousand Buddha Caves in the Ming-sha mountains were not new to Hsing-te. He had heard of them even in China. These mountains were not far from Sha-chou. At their foot were hundreds of caves. In each one were magnificent frescoes painted with brilliant colors and large and small Buddhist statues. No one knew who had started work on the caves, but it was thought that these caves had secretly been increased in size and beauty by Buddhist followers from ancient times to the present.
Naturally, Hsing-te had never seen the Thousand Buddha Caves and could only imagine their extent from his readings; but they were certainly the most famous religious site on the frontier.
Hsing-te then recalled that Kuang had informed him on the night they had met in Kua-chou that his mother’s family had had several grottoes dug at the Thousand Buddha Caves. No doubt it was because of that connection that Kuang had hit upon the idea of the caves as a hiding-place.
“How far is it to the Thousand Buddha Caves from here?” Hsing-te inquired.
“Fourteen miles. At a gallop you can be there in about an hour.”
“All right, I’ll be there by dusk tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget the necklace,” Kuang reminded him once more.
After Hsing-te had left Kuang, he walked ar
ound the city of Sha-chou, soon destined to be razed. He was not in the mood to return to his quarters.
All the streets were in confusion with residents attempting to flee. Camels and horses passed by. Sha-chou was different from any other walled town Hsing-te had seen in the western regions. Its streets were wide and lined with shade trees, and old, imposing shops now thronged with people. He left the shopping area and walked to the residential section, with its rows of large houses enclosed by mud walls. Confusion reigned here, too. The streets were a total chaos, but there was a sober quality to the uproar. Now and then the noise would subside, and an oppressive silence would prevail for a while. The moon had come out. It was blood-red.
Hsing-te went to the temple section of town. Here the temples were much larger than those in which Wang-li’s troops were billeted in the eastern part of the town. In the spacious temple grounds were large, regular-shaped monasteries standing in rows. As might be expected, only this section of the town was calm. Most probably evacuation preparations were taking place inside, but the sounds did not reach the streets.
Hsing-te passed several temples. He did not know the names of any of these, but he entered the grounds of the temple with the largest monastery. Just past the gate was a large pagoda on the right. The crimson moon hung on the shoulder of the tower. The pagoda and several buildings cast dark shadows in the dim grounds. Hsing-te stepped into these black shadows and walked further into the precincts. He soon came upon a lighted building. As the area was so still, he had thought it empty, and was surprised.
Hsing-te walked toward the light. As he walked up the low steps, he judged the building to be a repository for sacred scriptures. The front door was slightly ajar. There were several lights in the room; it was much brighter than he had thought.
As he peered into the room, he saw an enormous number of Buddhist scrolls and papers spread over the whole area. In the midst of them were three young priests who at a glance appeared to be about twenty years of age. Of the three youths, two were standing, the other was crouched over. They were so absorbed in their work that they did not even notice Hsing-te looking in.
TUN-HUANG Page 15
