Empire of Dragons (47 page)

Finally, one day, another messenger was announced and Wei got up, shook off his torpor and walked towards the audience chamber. He immediately recognized the man as one of the Flying Foxes.

‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘our chief has instructed me to advise you that he was so bold as to take the liberty of having the cavalry followed by several of our men, with instruments adequate for a hunt over impenetrable terrain, should the need arise. He hopes that you will pardon this initiative undertaken without informing you, because it has produced a positive outcome. The dove was followed, in flight, where the horses could not venture, and now we know the exact location of Li Cheng. The horsemen have been informed as well, and they are now camped at a suitable distance from the fortress, silent and watchful. From there, they will be able to send information in time for us to make adequate provisions and take the necessary measures.’

Wei was exultant although he did not let his excitement be seen. ‘Tell your brothers to be ready to leave as soon as possible, in full battle order. The best units of the imperial army will accompany us, in sufficient numbers to guarantee the certain success of our mission.’

I
N THREE DAYS
’
TIME
, the army was ready to move. Wei led them in person, at the head of the Flying Foxes. He mounted a horse from Xixia, black and shiny as the wing of a crow, a gift from one of his marshals in the south-west.

The long convoy of cavalry, foot soldiers, carts and pack animals set off at the first light of dawn through the silent streets of the city, but their departure did not pass unobserved.

Daruma was awakened by the scuttling of many hoofs on the cobblestones as he slept a less than tranquil sleep in his room at the caravanserai, where he had been settled for some time. He dressed hurriedly, went down to the courtyard and crossed it to access the area where his warehouse and pack animals were.

A voice resounded at his back: ‘How is it that you’re such an early riser this morning, Daruma?’

T
HE SUN WAS SETTING
on the valley, illuminating the cliffs that loomed over the village of Li Cheng on the west, and opposite them the rooftops of the monastery of the warrior monks of the Red Lotus, perched on the rocky plateau that rose steeply over the bend in the river.

Dan Qing was looking at the façade of the tomb of Emperor Yuandi, which was guarded by winged dragons with gaping jaws and preceded by a majestic staircase. From that dominating position he could see even the path that led towards the access ramp at the southern gate and his attention was drawn to a small cloud of dust moving fast in the direction of the citadel. Before long, he could make out a horseman approaching at a full gallop, spurring his horse on with great urgency.

He watched as the man crossed the gateway, leapt to the ground and exchanged a few words with a guard, who pointed out the paved road that led towards the great imperial tomb. In just a few moments, he was standing before the prince. He was covered in dust and sweat.

‘Prince, a signal has arrived from our observers. Wei is marching on Li Cheng.’

Dan Qing scowled. ‘How can they say that? How far away is he?’

‘About two weeks’ march from here, but his outriders have already been spotted nearly at the base of the rise. We can’t see where else he could be headed. If we’re mistaken, all the better, but it seemed wise to warn you.’

‘You’ve done the right thing. Do you know how many men there are?’

‘About three thousand, plus the Flying Foxes, at least two hundred of them. Wei himself is riding at their head.’

‘Then I fear there’s no doubt about their destination. Have the guards give you a place in the stables for your horse and a room for yourself for the night.’

Metellus and Yun Shan arrived almost immediately, informed by the guards that there was an emergency.

‘Bad news?’ asked Metellus.

‘The usurper is marching on Li Cheng. He’s just two weeks’ march from us. He has a great number of men with him and the Flying Foxes. We have very little hope of survival. Perhaps it’s time that you go, Xiong Ying.’

‘Go?’ asked Metellus with a bitter smile. ‘Where?’

Dan Qing glanced back towards the monumental staircase and asked him, ‘Are you ready?’

Metellus nodded and motioned for Yun Shan to follow.

‘No,’ said the princess. ‘You go alone.’

Dan Qing took a torch from its stand on the enclosure wall and began to climb the steps that led to the emperor’s tomb. ‘Yun Shan has told me you’ve seen the carved green stone.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ replied Metellus.

‘Did they really come from your country?’

‘There’s no doubt. The words on the stone are written in my language.’

‘Did she tell you about the legend?’

‘Yes, she did,’ he replied.

Dan Qing stopped and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Would you like . . . to see them?’

Metellus stared back uneasily. ‘Are you making fun of me?’

‘Not at all,’ replied Dan Qing. ‘Emperor Yuandi wanted to be buried here at Li Cheng and he wanted the three hundred Mercenary Devils to mount guard at his tomb for all eternity. That’s how the legend was born.’

‘I don’t . . . understand.’

‘Follow me, then. If you choose to remain in this place and risk your life here, it is only right that you meet those who came before you.’

They had reached the top of the staircase and Dan Qing lit the torch from one of the votive tripods burning before the entrance. He then pointed to one of the dragons guarding the mausoleum and said to Metellus, ‘Turn that statue towards the left, while I turn the other one in the opposite direction.’

Metellus did as he was asked and what seemed to be a wall of smooth stone shifted aside, revealing a corridor behind it.

The sun had already sunk behind the mountains and Dan Qing, after having raised his eyes for a moment to the darkening sky, entered, followed by his companion.

They advanced for about thirty steps between two walls of solid rock inscribed with texts from ancient oracles, until they found an opening on the left and a flight of about twenty steps that led down into a crypt. Dan Qing lifted his torch to illuminate a vast underground chamber and a phantasmagorical vision appeared before Metellus’s incredulous eyes. The sarcophagus of Emperor Yuandi was carved from a single block of jade shot through with tones that ranged from green to golden yellow. It was guarded by three hundred statues. Although crafted in a Chinese style, they unmistakably represented Roman legionaries from the Republican age, wearing authentic armour. Their helmets and
loricae
were still in good condition despite the passage of time and they reflected the torchlight here and there with a metallic gleam.

‘Gods . . . O powerful gods . . . I can’t believe it,’ murmured Metellus, wandering among the ranks of immobile warriors in the timeless atmosphere of the great tomb.

Hanging at each man’s chest was a
titulus
, the lead identification plate on which Metellus could read off their names one by one, in a choked voice: name, rank, division, decorations. He walked along the files of those disquieting figures as though he were inspecting an army of ghosts.

Then, all at once, the torchlight drew a figure different from all the rest out of the shadows. It was not a soldier: he was sitting, dressed in a long tunic and a cape, and he held a little case on his knees. The object was authentic, not modelled in clay like the rest of the statue. There were words written on the case:

CORNELIVS AGRICOLA, PRAEFECTVS FABRORVM

‘Do you understand what this means?’ asked Dan Qing. ‘Many of our wisest monks have tried in vain to decipher . . . these.’ He opened the case, revealing a number of scrolls inside.

Metellus opened one with great care and brought it close to the torchlight. There were symbols, formulas, drawings, construction plans and assembly instructions in Latin and Greek.

‘I . . . just can’t believe this,’ he repeated, completely taken aback by what he was seeing, unrolling one scroll after another.

‘What are they?’ asked Dan Qing. ‘What do the drawings represent? They look like machines, but our technicians have not been able to interpret them.’

‘Because the instructions are written in an old military code and the sequence of drawings is in reverse order. This man was the greatest designer of war machines of his time. He disappeared quite suddenly and no trace of his work was ever found . . . Do you understand what this means? These papers will show us how we can win our battle, even though we are outnumbered. You’ll realize that every civilization, even the most advanced, has something to learn from others. Tell me this: are there any other exits from this tomb that lead to the surface?’

‘Yes, more than one.’

‘I must know exactly where they are located and where they come up.’

‘What do you mean to do?’

Metellus scanned the steel armour, the swords hanging from the statues’ baldrics. ‘You’ll know soon enough,’ he replied. ‘Let’s go immediately. We haven’t a moment to lose.’

When they emerged at the top of the outside staircase, under a starry sky, Metellus turned to the prince. ‘You must give me the authority to enrol and train men here at Li Cheng and in the surrounding countryside.’

Dan Qing nodded. The imperious light of a commander of armies shone in Xiong Ying’s eyes. He was ready to take up the challenge.

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I’ll give you one of my adjutants. But remember that your own training must never be interrupted, not even for a single day. Yun Shan awaits you in the
palaestra
even now.’

‘I know,’ replied Metellus.

‘Xiong Ying?’

‘Yes, Prince?’

‘Listen to me. What is about to happen was unforeseeable, and I must be sincere with you. Unfortunately, we don’t have much chance of surviving. Wei’s forces are crushing, and our walls will not be able to hold out for long. What’s more, he has the Flying Foxes with him. You know what that means, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ replied Metellus.

‘Then think it over, while you still have time. This is not your war. You’ve done everything you could do, and you’ve paid a high price indeed. You can go now, if you want. The only thing I ask of you is that you give me your word as a soldier that you will never reveal to anyone what you have learned here. I trust you.’

Metellus smiled. ‘I think it’s already a little too late for that. I have a piece of my heart here at Li Cheng, don’t I? You mustn’t worry. Doesn’t the legend say that when your dynasty is in danger, the three hundred Mercenary Devils will rise from their tombs and put the enemy to rout? Sleep well, Prince.’

‘You too, Xiong Ying.’

Metellus vanished into the night.

F
OR TWO WEEKS
, the southern quarter of Li Cheng resounded day and night with strange noises. Incessant hammer strokes, wheezing bellows, rhythmic shouts guiding the common and coordinated efforts of many men. But not a thing was visible. The foreigner whom everyone called Xiong Ying had been given the use of a big storehouse usually used for threshing marsh grain and that was where he had established his base.

The men who had reported for service could never be seen coming or going. They left the place long after dark and by daybreak were back at work in the old warehouse.

Then one day the doors of the big building were opened and strange wheeled machines were dragged out, although it was difficult to discern their shape under the heavy canvases that covered them.

When Dan Qing and Yun Shan saw them later, uncovered, they were amazed at the huge dimensions and ingenious construction.

‘What extraordinary machines!’ observed Dan Qing. ‘But what do they shoot?’

‘Stones, bolts, jugs of burning pitch,’ replied Metellus.

‘I think our monks know of something even more effective than pitch. I’ll see to it that they prepare your ammunition.’

Metellus had the machines towed between two wings of the gathering crowd towards the section of the walls that faced south on to the highlands, the only point from which the citadel could be attacked.

The machines were hauled up already-positioned wooden ramps on to the battlements and then disguised with wooden screens. The once-futuristic plans of
praefectus fabrorum
Cornelius Agricola had taken form in wood and iron and were in perfect working order.

But Metellus had another weapon in reserve, this one completely clandestine, which he worked on every day after sunset in a clearing west of the tall grey cliffs that towered over the plain. No one was admitted, not even Dan Qing or Yun Shan, and Metellus’s men were solemnly sworn to secrecy.

One night, just a few hours before dawn, Yun Shan joined Metellus up on the battlements. He was intent on scanning the darkness for signs of enemy approach.

‘Eagles cannot see at night,’ said Yun Shan.

‘No, they can’t. And yet in the many nights that I guarded the great wall on the borders of our empire, I developed a sort of secret sense. I learned to hear the enemy approaching before I could see them.’

‘You also have a wall defending your borders?’

‘Yes, certainly. In the north we control a vast island called Britannia. At the point where the risk of invasion was greatest, we built a wall right across it, from sea to sea. It takes nine days of marching to get from one end to the other.’

Yun Shan smiled. ‘Ours protects the entire northern border and it takes six months to cover its total length. It’s so wide that there is a road on top that chariots and entire armies can use in both directions.’

‘It must be extraordinary,’ said Metellus. ‘I’d like to see it some day.’

‘You will . . . We will survive this.’

‘I hope so. For you . . .’

There was a long silence, then Metellus asked, ‘What do your wise men say to ward off the fear of death?’

‘“When death comes, we shall acquiesce and allow ourselves to be taken inside the mystery,” ’ replied Yun Shan. ‘And yours?’