Ashes of an empty hearth, p.2
Ashes of an Empty Hearth, page 2
“You, defenders, intercept the blade point with the bottom edge of your dagger-axe. That way, you can pull the shaft down or maybe chop it. With practice, you might even use the dagger to slide down the length of the enemy polearm and lunge at him. Don’t let that enemy spear point latch into the top of the dagger blade.”
The dagger was set perpendicular to the shaft: the tang stuck out the other side, tied to the shaft by cords. Drillmaster Hao only had one instruction: use the juncture to catch a lunging spear point and push the shaft up and away from me. But this was a useful trick, to pull down instead of just pushing away. I guess, if you are toiling for a one-chariot nan, who didn’t have enough retainers unless he bought them or snatched them, you only have time to teach your recruits one trick to keep them alive.
“Again. Stand sideways. Grip the ge shafts, elbows bent, close to the body. Now step forward. Jab! When you step, thrust the point, arms stiff, elbows locked. Aim for any bit of exposed flesh above the chest. You don’t want your point sliding off any protective leather.”
A sudden whiff of salted fish and smoked pork sausages overwhelmed the smell of dung. I lost my concentration. The attacking farmer actually jabbed me with his weapon. He froze, as if waiting for me to slash him. I shrugged. If he could do this on the battlefield, we would all survive.
Clapper acted as if all this was just preparation for a performance. He swooped, swayed, balanced on one foot, and made all this training look graceful. He remained damnably clean.
Rooster and Woodsman just went through the motions. Like me, they were just waiting for the evening meal.
“Yaaah...!” The scream came from the boy. He held his arms rigidly in front of him, gripping the ge. Eyes clenched shut, he spun around in wild circles. I walked over to him, ducked under his shaft, then tripped him with mine.
He tumbled and started to bawl. “He hit me! He hit me!”
“He hit you because he likes you. If he was an enemy, he would have skewered your chubby belly.” I turned away from the farmer and faced the boy. “Get up. Keep practicing. Now that you know how it feels to get hit, you can practice not getting hit ever again.” I yanked him to his feet and pushed him back in line.
Abandoning the weapon, the boy ran over to the water bucket as if he would dunk his hands and face there.
“YAH! That’s our drinking water, not your bath.” Clapper yelled.
“I’ll shit on your food!”
“You’re just a tadpole in a small pond. Get used to that.” I chased him away.
“Squishy, squishy little Tadpole!” one of the farmers laughed.
“I’ll kill you!” he screamed.
“Now, Tadpole, you know you have to grow several barrel heights before you do that. Besides, you need more practice with the polearm.” No-Good-Ox, the biggest peasant in this group, cuffed him on the back of his head.
“Yah, maybe when he’s not looking, you can jab him in the buttocks. Just say you slipped,” Grumps added. He had to be the oldest, all gray, already stooped.
The other farmers stood together and chuckled.
“Enough!” Drillmaster Ding strode up. “Turn in your weapons. Go back to the pens if you won’t practice.”
I picked up the fallen ge, and four of us surrendered ours to No-Good-Ox. The farmers marched out of the compound. We were herded back into the pen.
^^V^^-^^
I STOOD BY THE BARS TO TOSS OUT ANOTHER PEBBLE TO SHAKTI—the only god of this Border World willing to listen to pleas from road rats, and anyone else wandering without a family hearth.
I rolled my shoulders, hoping to ease the tightness across my back. The swelling was still there…I jumped when a shadow loomed over me. Woodsman squatted down, his back against the bars. He smelled of wood smoke and pine pitch.
“We are not branded.”
That sounded like a question. “Well, the shi-ren watched us, and trained us for three weeks. We must look good enough to keep. He’s winnowed out those farmers who don’t look comfortable fighting. The rest look creaky and slow, but old habits aren’t easily lost. Rooster’s probably right. He keeps his slaves for farming. Wives aren’t going to be able to do all the tilling or harvesting.”
“You knap flint? He suddenly asked.
“Nah. Just a hand-me down.” I touched the blade to assure myself it was still there. “Drillmaster Hao gave me this. His nan never thought I would live long enough to earn a real sword.”
Woodsman grunted, then rose and returned to the dark end of the compound.
Another night, Shakti, another pebble with a prayer rolling far and away.
^^V^^-^^
“DRILLING IS OVER. Now we practice for war.”
Barely finished with the morning meal, Drillmaster Ding had us all standing in a line. He stopped in front of me. Chest armor, helmets, wicker shields, and ges stuck out from the three wheelbarrows pushed behind him by slaves.
“By carrying this ge, by wearing the helm and accepting the body protection from the armory of Gao Shi-ren, Master of Chariot sworn in fealty to Peng Nan, Baron of Sha Yue, you are bound to service to Gao Master of Chariot in this campaign until he is released from this campaign by Peng, Nan of Sha Yue.” Drillmaster paused for breath. “Declare your intent.”
I looked at the others. They seemed to be waiting for me to speak first. “If we don’t..?”
“The Master will work you until he feels compensated for the food and shelter he has provided you for the past three weeks.”
I shrugged. I wanted to fight, this was the time. “I serve Gao Shi-ren.”
Drillmaster dropped the tools of my trade at my feet.
I turned to the others.
Rooster shrugged. “I’m good for fighting. I serve Gao Shi-ren.”
Woodsman nodded. “I serve.”
Tadpole looked around, holding his wrists. “Isn’t there supposed to be a kind of blood oath?”
“Royal-born do not accept oaths from road rats.” Clapper grimaced but added, “I, too, will serve Gao Shi-ren.”
Rooster prodded Toad, who yelped “Yes! Yes. I serve.”
In front of the boy, Drillmaster dropped a pair of straw sandals. “Do not lose these. Do not destroy these.”
The boy ignored helmet, armor, polearm, as he squatted down. He strapped the sandals on, then waved his feet. “Look! A leather strap even to protect the toes!”
“Arm up! Gao, Master of Chariot, is driving his takhis to the open fields. Follow.” Rooster and I pulled the boy upright, strapped the chest armor around him, plunked the helmet on his head, and we all marched out.
Driver Lu drove the chariot out. Gao Shi-ren, standing to his left, watched.
Drillmaster Ding yelled out commands. Ten farmers marched in a column on either side of the chariot, protecting the flank. Five of us walked behind the chariot, protecting the rear—just eating dust really. Pace quickened. Ordered to stop, set polearms facing outward anticipating attack. Ordered back group to link up with left flank, right flank moved to join up with back group. All forming an arc to protect the chariot. Reversed the drill, protecting right flank. Repeated. Repeated. Marched double-step. Repeated formations. Marched. Marched. Until dusty, dry-mouthed, dirty.
We didn‘t get a mid-day meal.
^^V^^-^^
“WHY IS THE CHARIOT RIDING AROUND US IN CIRCLES?” Tadpole asked, eyes roaming, ge barely in his hands. “We already swore we were going to serve.”
“To smell us.” Woodsman straightened the polearm rolling on Tadpole’s shoulder.
“I’m not smelly! The stinky stuff is in the hay!”
“The takhis have to see us, get used to our smell,” Rooster explained. “Not good to be run down by our own chariot team when the battle starts.”
“The takhis live among these farmers. Their scents are familiar,” I added. “Unless they panic, the takhis won’t trample their manor mates. We’re the strangers here.”
“We are strangers to your god.” Clapper scowled. “Will your Shakti protect us?”
SECTION 3
“ANCESTORS. Protect your descendants as we leave our home. Enlighten my heart, that I may always find the path that leads back to the family hearth. Lighten my way, such that all paths will lead me home.” Gao Master of Chariot stood in front of the gate to his home. He looked thicker in his armor, as if the weight of oaths was really pressing down on his shoulders.
He held a bronze brazier containing embers from the ancestral flame kept burning on the family altar. He bowed three times, turned and walked to the manor gates. There, shi ren raised the brazier high above his head, bowed three more times, then turned to face home and bowed three times again.
“Patriarchs of the Gao lineage. Extend your blessing upon us as we leave the family compound. Touch us with your collective de –the cumulative righteousness of our lineage in service to the Zhou wang—that we may perform our duties with honor.” Smoke from the brazier trailed his every step.
In the courtyard, Drillmaster Ding raised the Gao family pennant and marched out under the smoke. From outside, he pointed at us.
So it was, we twenty five retainers armed with ge, helmed, and wearing chest plates held by leather bands across our backs, marched under the protection of the Gao lineage.
As a slave led the chariot through the manor gates, the Master bowed three times again, then walked three times around the chariot. He set the brazier down on the chariot platform, Chariot Driver Lu took delivery, strapping it to the chariot front.
His wife stepped forward. Also gray-haired, she wore homespun hemp. He placed a palm on her cheek. “Speak to the Jiao family elders about potential spouses. When we return, let there be marriages and births.”
She raised a hand against his throat. “You wear my lucky jade?”
He nodded. She stepped back behind her sons.
When his eldest son approached, also dressed in everyday hemp garb, the Master clapped him on his shoulders. “You have been to war outside this fief. You have survived famine within its borders. Your shoulders are strong enough to bear the burden of responsibility. Hasten the plowing. Let there be harvests upon our return.”
He looked over at the two youngest sons, each with purple bruises on their faces. “Let me come back to find two fine young men—and not brawling babies arguing over a sweet cake, and rolling in the dust like pigs before my retainers.”
The Master set his helmet on his head and pulled himself up into the chariot. He nodded to Drillmaster Ding, who handed up the Gao banner. It looked undyed, woven hemp with the characters “Bai Shan” inked in on both sides.
Drillmaster Ding signaled us to march. So, with the Master, Drillmaster, and Driver armed with swords clattering against their belts, and retainers garbed in tunics and trousers and sandals—and us in our patched robes and loose trousers—and all fully armed, we now marched off to war.
We were followed by two oxen, each pulling a cart piled high with dried meats, pickled vegetables, millet, cooking pots, water crocks, and tents hopefully for everyone.
SECTION 4
“WHO ARE THESE RAGMEN?”
The burly retainer and his bunch turned around to stare at us.
Our rags were covered by the leather armor, but our legs were splattered with trampled grass and upturned soil. The trousers and tunics provided to the retainers of Gao Shi-ren didn’t look much better after a day’s marching. Why was he calling us out?
“Now that’s a prize. Gold scrolls on the cheek plates of his helmet, jade symbol on his chest armor, silver talisman scrolled all over.” The burly retainer muttered to his friends around him. “Grab one of those royal-born on the battle field, and you know his family would pay a huge ransom to get him back.”
We stood in a column behind Gao Shi-ren’s chariot. He had stopped to wait for this other chariot to roll closer.
That chariot had a staff with a silk triangular banner carrying the marking of messenger on both sides. He set his chariot barely a palm’s width apart—as if to challenge Gao Shi-ren, clad in his plain lacquered armor.
“Do you refer to the rakers who follow behind you?” Gao Shi-ren asked.
“Do not jest!” The messenger stamped his foot against the chariot platform. His driver had to tighten the reins on their takhis team to stop them from running.
That chariot had bells on its reins. Bronze plates protected the sides of the chariot’s body. Even the four takhis wore armor over their chests. Valuable but still a heavy load to pull over tumbled grass lands.
“I dare not. I merely refer to the old saying: ‘Those who fight, battle. Those who live off the battle, follow’.” He raised his hands, open left palm placed against right fist. “The Master of Chariot from the Manor of Baishan has been summoned and comes forth to fulfill his duty to Pang Nan, Baron of Sha Yue. We will fight, and anticipate the bounty our Nan will bestow upon us. It will provide us with garments more pleasing to the eye of Po retainers.”
“Qwo Po, Earl of Xingtai, issues a summons for war and you come forth with these saplings and storm-splintered yews? Do you insult us—and all the nan answering the summons?” The shi-ren stood on his chariot, hand on his hip, staff hanging limply.
“For more than twenty seasons, the Manor of Baishan has sent men to fight. And none have ever brought shame or dishonor. Saplings must learn to stand in the light. The yews still standing after a storm are those who will survive and produce seeds.”
“We will see!”
When the dust from the offended shi-ren’s chariot had swept away, another chariot clattered up. “Greetings, Gao Shi-ren. Has health and prosperity flowed from your ancestors?”
“Our health is good. Our ancestors have responded to our rites with sufficient rain, and encouraged the sun chariot to cast its warmth across our fields. Are matters well with your family, Heng Shi-ren?”
“Well enough,” he responded. “Although I have to say that life would have been better without this summons to war. Did the Po’s whelp snarl and spit upon your retainers?”
Gao chuckled. “Of course! The Po of Xingtai aspires to be a duke. with ten thousand chariots thundering around the Yellow River. Not for him, shi-ren from frontier baronies.”
Heng shook his head. “Some changes are not for the better. Our fealty is to the Nan of Sha Yue. If the Nan wants to run with the Po, we can only blindly follow.”
“Have the others responded to the summons?” Gao asked.
“Meng Shi-ren leads his contingent from his Xi Shan manor, but it is the younger Jun Shi-ren who is leading men from his Liu Shan manor. The elder Jun passed on to his ancestors. The funeral rites were barely completed when the summons for war came. We may have to back his petition to be accepted as the rightful heir.”
“I doubt whether Pang, our Nan of Sha Yue, has any nominees to replace the Chariot Master of Liu Shan. He may want to surround himself with aristocrats of influence in the Po’s court, but he needs chariot masters to protect his boundaries.”
Heng laughed. “I will express our concerns to Meng Shi-ren. We old hands must ride in unison.”
As his chariot clattered away, Gao signaled Driver Lu to move.
That talkative burly farmer hustled to be first behind the chariot. As if breathing in the dust raised by the shi-ren would fling upon him some kind of glory. His bunch of seven did seem to have the most war experience. They were not as old as Grumps, nor as young as Big Dumb Ox. To me, they were still farmers swinging ges instead of hoes. Farmers eager to leave their homesteads and collect some bounty from the battle field.
Their attitude was just like that of the rakers who followed behind armies to sell beers, wines, and women, and then collect from the dead after the battle.
Marching in a column, most of the farmers chattered about the soil beneath their feet, how wide a field the grass covered, and whether barley or buckwheat would grow best in this place we trod upon.
Two days march, southeast and away from the Taihang Mountains, moving down toward the Daqing River drainage, we were finally getting closer to war.
SECTION 5
“DOES ALL THIS DUST MAKE US SAFE?” Tadpole asked the bobbing helmets marching around him.
“Yah, covers our clothes, parches our throats, blocks every opening in our bodies. Makes us look like a moving line of turd coming out of a dragon’s ass!” That was the burly farmer talking again. Someone named him as Storm Thunder.
“Ooo … that will be so scary. Maybe if we march in lines of four and look like the BIG fat turds of a well-fed dragon, we won’t have to fight anyone,” another voice declared.
“I was just asking! Y’know, dogs hanging around villages, they always seem to know that, when you are dirty and grungy, they can bite you.” Tadpole stumbled along. He and Big Dumb Ox seemed awed by the chatter of Storm Thunder and his bunch. Both listened to every word that bunch made about their times in war, the amount of booty given out, even the quality of slaves brought back home to make their farming easier.
“Woof, woof, bite the Tadpole!” Big Dumb Ox laughed.
“You’re wearing the Baishan armor now. Now’s the time to strut and kick aside any dog that gets in your way,” Grumps said.
“How do we see where we are going in all this dust?” Tadpole was still swiveling his head every direction.
“YOU don’t have to know where you’re going! Just follow the footsteps of the retainer in front of you. And don’t jab him with your ge.” I yelled at the back of his head.
“I’m moving!”
“Not fast enough. Campaign will be over soon enough. Then it’s back to the chores of home,” Big Dumb Ox declared, swinging his ge high into the sky.
“Can’t kick the old woman aside at home. Unless you’re willing to eat undercooked millet and overboiled vegetables for weeks,” Grumps agreed.
