by Jeremy Han
“Any news?”
No one spoke. Ma almost could not resist the urge to share his deduction so that he could gain some attention. But he had learnt to keep his mouth shut, especially if he wanted all the glory to himself. He thought to himself, That’s right. No one knows the commander made a wrong assumption because of his arrogance except me.
Then Ji articulated to the silent crowd what he had been pondering, “Tomorrow, the fleet sails. I believe if they are not in the city by now, they would not come. If they haven’t entered by now, no way they could infiltrate the fleet after dark when we close the gates. It is either we have miscalculated completely, or we are correct to assume that Quanzhou was their destination and the Treasure Fleet their means of escape. Thus, we will shift our focus to tightening the security inside the city instead of at the gates.”
He paused for them to digest his words. Then he spoke again, “An, you will continue to man the gates just in case. Lu and Yong, take twenty men each to patrol the city. Ma, you remain at the mosque. Then Ji took out a box of flares.
“Carry these with you. If anything happens, it will take place tonight. If any of you spots them, fire the flare. We will come to you. With the detachments of troops assigned to you, you should be able to hold them until we arrive. The chase ends tonight, gentlemen. If we find them, kill them all.”
After he had dismissed them, Ji battled to contain his self-doubts. The emperor would not deal kindly with failure. As a career government servant, he started to think what excuse he could give to explain why he could not return Jian Wen’s head to his uncle in a box. The emperor could either forgive him or execute him depending on his increasingly unpredictable temper. Word came that the Son of Heaven was in poor health and had returned to Beijing prematurely. With a supreme effort, he dismissed those thoughts. He cursed his fatigued state; he blamed his pessimism on the lack of sleep. He would capture them and bring back the prize for Yong Le. He had never failed before. He would not fail this time. He could not afford to break the emperor’s faith in him.
When Ma returned to his station, the sun was setting. Immediately he got a report from an excited soldier; the same one who reported to him in the morning. The man looked even worse than he did in the morning; he could tip over and collapse anytime. He calculated that the men had not slept for at least two days by now. “Sir, the man you wanted us to observe returned to the temple.” When Ma nodded his head, the soldier continued. “He went out again with another man.”
“Have they returned?”
“Not yet Sir.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“To the docks, Sir.”
Ma Hun nodded his head like a hunter who just figured out his prey. “Reduce the guards at the mosque to five men and send the other five to the temple.” The man bowed and left. Ma Hun took out his double headed spear and planned how he should spring his trap.
It was midnight when Zheng He’s officers reported to him. The frantic loading was done. Silk, porcelain, gold and priceless Pu’er tea cakes, aged in the dry air of the northern regions, and other priceless gifts were loaded onto the Treasure ships. All manner of foodstuff, livestock and water were stocked onto the supply ships. The numerous weapons and equipment to ensure the admiral’s army could outfight any foe on sea and land were carefully loaded into the troop ships and war junks. The different categories of people travelling with them, clerics of various religions, merchants, craftsmen and labourers were allocated their place in the various ships. Everything was done to the letter. The grand admiral did not have to hear the complete report to know that whatever he wanted done had been completed; the consequence of not meeting his deadline was no trivial matter. Instead he waited for them to finish while he went through his own mental dilemmas again. At first he wanted to allocate a place for Jian Wen with the monks, but decided against it. The monks would talk to him on the long voyage. He knew the monks were unlikely to return to the Ming, but the less people who saw the ex-emperor the better. He did not make special provision for the rest because he simply did not know who was accompanying the emperor. So even on that end, he did not know what he could do or he could not do. All he could do was to trust in the resourcefulness of Jian Wen’s bodyguards. When the officers finished their reports, he waved them away and they left with heads bowed. Only his second-in-command remained. When there was no one left, he turned to the man and nodded his head. One more command to give, one that could not be communicated in words. The man bowed his head and left. One final arrangement.
SEVENTY FOUR
Tension filled the chamber of the pagoda as The Farmer and his best friend, the Acrobat, briefed the rest. The candle flickered and turned their tense, unsmiling faces orange. They would exit the temple on the west street, heading southwest through the dark streets; they should be able to reach the docks quickly. The silent monk came earlier and handed another anonymous letter with the message that the dock where the ship with the green flag was would be unguarded between the third and fourth hour of the morning: which meant that they had only a one hour window to board the ship. The sun would rise at the sixth hour and the fleet would sail. Then came the waiting; the minutes felt like hours. Jian Wen prayed. Zhao took out his sabre and fondled it, his companion over many battles. Tonight might be the last time he used it. He thought of Long and Yula. They must be really happy now, away from all these. Li Jing the Acrobat, cuddled his daughter and assured her that everything would be alright; Fu Zhen, the Farmer just sat quietly at a corner with his eyes closed. He was conserving his energy because he knew that anything bad that could happen would occur. All they had left were their fighting skills to take them to safety. After Li Po closed her eyes, Li Jing took out his favourite mask: the red faced god of war. He put the mask close to his chest. At the same time he took out ten darts and a round object and tucked them into his pocket for easy access. He knew that this could be the greatest fight of his life because his daughter’s fate depended on him. He needed all his tools close by. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes to meditate. He visualised the journey ahead, the routes to take, the fight, the future.
Time passed slowly.
Then Zhao roused everyone and told them to get ready. They had an hour to reach the ship - One hour between freedom and failure, life and death. They left the chamber and climbed down the long stairs quietly. The last man closed the door to the pagoda. Jian Wen turned toward the main hall and bowed his respects to Buddha, said a quick prayer for success before he followed the rest. The rain yesterday had exhausted the clouds, and now the moon shone bright and clear. The Farmer took the lead with his staff at hand. The Acrobat brought up the rear. He knew the way as well; the Farmer orientated him because it was good to have another person who knew the way in case the point man fell in battle. Li Jing would lead if that happened. They half-ran and half-walked down the quiet street passing buildings and homes that were locked and secure, their occupants sleeping soundly. The only things moving were the lanterns that swayed to the gentle spring breeze. Everything seemed to be going smoothly as the temple got smaller behind them. Ahead, the onion-shaped dome of the mosque loomed in the dark.
“Zhan zhu!” ‘Stand Still!’
The sharp, unmistakable command from someone in authority shattered the morning peace like glass. Footsteps thundered across the sleepy street and suddenly the stillness was broken by the presence of armed men. Suddenly, in front of them, sprang a human barricade of armed warriors. In the middle was the commander, a man holding a double headed spear.
Dong Chang!
The word appeared simultaneously in everyone’s mind. Zhao knew that they could not stop. A long protracted fight was not in their interest because it would draw the enemy like moths to light. His tactical mind kicked in and without hesitation, gave his command.
“Fu and Li, do not stop. Fight your way through the blockade and lead the rest. I will take care of this imperial dog.”
Ma Hun grinned at the challenge. He had
what he always wanted; to fight Zhao Qi and to capture him. However, he was also not stupid. Before the enemy engaged, he reached into his pocket and took the flare Ji gave and fired it. Now all the Eastern Depot would know it was he, Ma Hun, the one whom everyone pissed on, who found the elusive prey first because of the trap he laid. He would show them. His whole body shook with excitement. He could not wait for the day he would debrief the rest and explained how he, someone relegated to guard the mosque, deduced and found out that the commander was wrong. In that split second, he even fantasized that the emperor would give him a medal.
Zhao drew his dao and threw the scabbard on the floor. He would no longer need it for the rest of the night. Li Jing charged first, as always, and hacked off the head of the first soldier who stood in his way. Blood sprayed from the severed neck and drenched the men nearby. The body collapsed like a rag doll. His guan dao drew first blood. He forced open a way and Ma let him go; he was not interested in the rest of them. He had Zhao Qi in his sights.
Ma attacked with a shout. His double headed spear lunged with great speed as the imperial agent closed the distance. The commander did not shrink from the attack. He raised his blade and charged. Both weapons clanged and sparks flew. Ma attacked relentlessly, the spear head going high and low, but Zhao parried them all as he moved deftly. Each step was firm yet lightning fast; he was in position to counter-attack should the opportunity arose, but none came because Ma Hun knew what he was doing. The younger agent had youth on his side and he used it well. His attacks were as deadly as they were relentless, but he did not seemed winded. Zhao could only dodge and block. A swift thrust aimed toward his legs caused him to jump with a mid-air split, which was what Ma Hun wanted; break the commander’s stance! At the split second before Zhao landed, when his position was at its weakest, Ma Hun spun the spear around as he circled his hip, turning his whole body as well so that now the spear pointed upward at Zhao’s landing form and he thrust upward and forward, corkscrewing the spear with all his strength. Zhao brought up the dao just in time. At the moment his own blade made contact with the spear head, he flipped to avoid the thrusting spear, there was a loud clang and then Zhao landed on his feet. He stumbled backward as his balance was broken. He had underestimated Ma Hun. He had to attack if he wanted to end the fight before the rest of the Eastern Depot arrived. The thought of freedom drove the adrenaline to spike in him. He felt a renewal; power flowed through his limbs and his vision seemed clearer. He gave a loud shout as he expelled air from his gut. Ki-ai!
He attacked with a feint. The move drew a lightning fast reflex, but it was a trick. Zhao’s sabre made contact with the spear for one purpose – to suppress it. He flicked the blade so that the weapon was on top of the spear’s tip and according to the law of levers, he had greater control of the sabre as he held it closer to him. He pressed it down hard and forced Ma Hun’s spear downward as he charged in to close the gap and negate the advantages of the spear. The blade glided along the spear shaft to press it down. Zhao had always been a close quarter fighter and he knew just how to press his advantage. At the split second he took to close the gap, his other hand balled into a fist and smashed it into Ma’s face. Ma recoiled at the blow just as Zhao’s hand turned into a claw and went for his throat.
“Damn it!” Ma Hun shouted as he jerked his head down to close the gap exposing his throat. Zhao’s open hand struck his face a second time, narrowly missing the throat. At the same time, Ma loosed his hold on the spear and struck out with a ‘knife hand’ aimed at Zhao’s eyes. The commander dodged it by ducking and Ma Hun executed a spinning kick. It connected heavily against Zhao’s arm, and the commander felt himself shift from the force of the blow. But he did not give up his close-range advantage. Just as Ma was trying to disengage so that he had the space to use his spear, Zhao kept close to Ma. He stabbed at the imperial agent but the younger man retreated to avoid the blow; Zhao anticipated it. He bent his arm and took a step forward so that he could close in with an elbow strike straight into Ma Hun’s nose. It connected with a loud, angry crack and Ma stumbled backward; his plan to capture the emperor’s pet tiger was not going according to plan. Blood gushed from the broken appendage.
Zhao should have pressed in the attack, but the last one minute of engagement was fierce and no matter how strong he was, he was winded. He felt the years now. Ma Hun took the chance to withdraw. Ever conscious that every passing second could bring Ji Gang and the rest here, Zhao charged with his sabre up to attack. Ma no longer had any illusions of an easy fight. He counter-attacked by spinning the double headed spear over his head. This was an extremely difficult move but effective as the spearman could use the advantage of having two spear tips slashing at quick speed like a rotor and Zhao had to throw himself out of the way. Even then, he suffered a cut across his chest as he did not block in time. Ma drew blood, but it fired his opponent up. Zhao howled as he came in low with a foot sweep. He ignored the stinging sensation from the cut as he tried to catch Ma’s foot. Ma lifted his leg in time and avoided being thrown off balance, but Zhao had effectively penetrated his circle of defence. From a crouching position, Zhao flipped upward, balancing on one hand. At the same time, he kicked viciously into Ma’s chest. The upward movement brought him up to his feet just as Ma lost his balance. Zhao slashed down and Ma barely brought the staff of the spear into a horizontal position to block the deadly blow. There was a loud clang and the vibrations from the blow reverberated straight into Ma’s arms and weakened his grip. Zhao forced the blade down as he pushed forward, causing Ma to continue to retreat unsteadily. Zhao’s front foot moved in quick successive motions, aggressively trying to get in between Ma’s feet so that man could not regain his stance. Ma was conscious of the sabre’s tip that came ever closer to his chest as Zhao pressed in. He swung the spear wildly to the left and threw Zhao’s blade off. He thought he had regained the upper hand with his brute strength. But Zhao flowed with the violent move instead of resisting it, pirouetting smoothly toward his opponent. The motion brought him behind Ma Hun. Instinctively, Ma knew it was over. Even as he tried to pivot and face his nemesis, Zhao’s free hand clasped around his neck and pulled him in. Ma gagged. He instinctively dropped the spear and tried to pry the iron fingers away from his throat. At the same time Zhao drove his sabre deep and clean into the imperial agent’s back, severing the spine at the waist. Suddenly, Ma felt his legs give way and he fell backward but he did not hit the ground. Zhao had broken his fall by lifting one knee up to support Ma’s limp body and with his first three fingers, he locked Ma’s throat. He clamped it down like an eagle breaking the neck of the prey. Ma looked up into Zhao’s cold, predatory eyes and knew why he was known as the emperor’s pet tiger. There was no mercy there. The fingers expertly found his Adam’s apple and crushed it. Ma’s eyes widened in pain as blood flowed from his opened mouth. He gurgled and choked. The former commander held him there and he died in Zhao’s deadly hold, eyes slowly glazing over until he was looking at his enemy but not seeing him. Zhao thought the dead man looked disappointed, even a little sad. Maybe he had really thought he could defeat the commander. Or perhaps he was sad he would not get his reward. Zhao felt Ma’s body go limp against his, the once powerful arms now dangled lifelessly by his side.
He was out of breath. Ma had been a tough opponent. Remembering the time, he dropped the body to the ground and tried to catch up with the rest as he ran past the bodies of soldiers who were slain by Li and Fu. With the adrenaline receding, a sharp pain spiked; he realised that the spear wound from Ma was worst than he thought. He reached into his shirt and his hand came out slick with blood.
SEVENTY FIVE
Déjà vu. Jian Wen could not help but recall the fateful night eighteen years ago when he ran for his life. It was like this, with violence and death closely in pursuit. Fu Zhen led the way down dark streets and alleys to avoid the patrols who were hunting them. Jian Wen followed Li Po closely; the Acrobat brought up the rear. It did flash across the monk’s mind that t
hey might have been lost as they went from one dark alley to the next, but he shut the thought out as he reminded himself that these men went through mountain and fire to take him to this very moment. If he died tonight, he was honoured to die with them. He would not fault them even if they got lost. He glanced at the girl to make sure she was fine. She did not look winded, but her hand clutched a throwing knife tightly. He realised that he was the only one unarmed and depended on everyone else, including a teenage girl, for safety. He accepted it without recrimination. In the distant past, he would never have thought this acceptable for an emperor. They stopped for a while; the Farmer called everyone to hug the wall and be silent as distant shouting became clearer. Crouching behind some boxes, they became invisible in the dark. A split second later, a patrol materialised, dashing passed them with torches and weapons, clearly looking for them. When they had gone a distance, Fu Zhen beckoned them and they resumed. They left the dark alley and continued passed some buildings then they reached an intersection. There was no time so they dashed across. To their horror, standing at the entrance of the next street, was a pair of imperial agents. Fu Zhen saw them and raised his hand to halt the group. Li Jing called out to him,
