garrison at dawn, and Wang-li had immediately led his men out.
Hsing-te was aghast when a soldier told him of the way of life there. Battles were a daily occurrence. Since the Uighur girl was dead, Hsing-te felt that it had been a mistake to come to this remote spot. Yet, oddly, he did not actually regret his return. He felt that destiny had led him there.
In the daylight, Hsing-te saw that the garrison was surrounded on the north, west, and east sides by walls, and was protected to the rear by steep cliffs. On the slopes of the mountains behind the garrison were numerous mounds where war casualties lay buried.
Hsing-te spent three months there. He joined in the battles every other day. Strangely, he had no qualms about dying. Since the Uighur girl was dead, his only justification for having come back was to take part in the fighting. Despite this, Hsing-te was still curious about how she had died. He knew he would never learn about it from Wang-li. Whenever he asked about the girl, Wang-li would suddenly get very angry and become violent.
It was toward the end of October, when signs of winter were already evident in the surrounding mountains and fields, that a messenger came from Kan-chou with orders that the whole garrison was needed there immediately. Hsing-te read the Hsi-hsia orders to his illiterate commander.
That night Wang-li gathered all his troops in the square and addressed them. “Until now we’ve had only minor brushes with the enemy, but at last an all-out war with the Turfans is about to start. Our unit will take part in the battle. As soldiers of the Chinese vanguard, fight bravely so that you won’t stain our honor. Those surviving must dig graves for those who die.”
At dawn the next day, all the men began to demolish the garrison. The work was completed at dusk, and as night fell, they set off toward Kan-chou. The entire force of three thousand cavalrymen pushed on without rest across rivers and sand dunes and through villages, arriving outside Kan-chou the next evening. Hsing-te alone could not keep up with this hard march. A day later, with the two men Wang-li had assigned to look after him, he caught up with the unit, stationed in a clearing outside Kan-chou. Swarms of Hsi-hsia troops gathered there.
The customary review of his troops by Li Yüan-hao before the battle was scheduled to take place two days after Hsing-te’s arrival.
The day before, Hsing-te got a pass and entered Kan-chou. He wanted to see this memory-filled garrison once more. Just as Liang-chou had changed completely, so too had Kan-chou. He stood below the city wall near the beacon, but found it hard to believe that this was the same wall he had stood on with the Uighur girl. Barracks lined the square below it, and the wall had been made even higher with additional stones and mortar. On the wall stood many sentries on duty.
Hsing-te searched for the house he had hidden the girl in, but the area had changed so much that he could not find it at all.
When he had given up looking, he went to the town center. He was almost ready to leave by the East Gate when he heard someone call out Li Yüan-hao’s name. He turned with the crowd and saw in the distance a man slowly riding toward them in the center of the road. There was no doubt that the dignified, stately figure on the horse was Li Yüan-hao, whom Hsing-te had previously seen outside Liang-chou. Hsing-te stopped and waited for him to pass. Li Yüan-hao went by, and just as the next person was about to pass him, Hsing-te felt a shock. He saw a girl, and not only that, but she was identical to the Uighur girl who had supposedly died.
Hsing-te ran up to her horse. Surprised by the sudden intruder, the horse reared. Simultaneously, the girl gave a soft gasp, and an emotion crossed her face, which Hsing-te did not miss. She looked at Hsing-te for an instant; the next moment she tightened her reins, sat upright and looked straight ahead as she rode away. She closed up the
Hsing-te was aghast when a soldier told him of the way of life there. Battles were a daily occurrence. Since the Uighur girl was dead, Hsing-te felt that it had been a mistake to come to this remote spot. Yet, oddly, he did not actually regret his return. He felt that destiny had led him there.
In the daylight, Hsing-te saw that the garrison was surrounded on the north, west, and east sides by walls, and was protected to the rear by steep cliffs. On the slopes of the mountains behind the garrison were numerous mounds where war casualties lay buried.
Hsing-te spent three months there. He joined in the battles every other day. Strangely, he had no qualms about dying. Since the Uighur girl was dead, his only justification for having come back was to take part in the fighting. Despite this, Hsing-te was still curious about how she had died. He knew he would never learn about it from Wang-li. Whenever he asked about the girl, Wang-li would suddenly get very angry and become violent.
It was toward the end of October, when signs of winter were already evident in the surrounding mountains and fields, that a messenger came from Kan-chou with orders that the whole garrison was needed there immediately. Hsing-te read the Hsi-hsia orders to his illiterate commander.
That night Wang-li gathered all his troops in the square and addressed them. “Until now we’ve had only minor brushes with the enemy, but at last an all-out war with the Turfans is about to start. Our unit will take part in the battle. As soldiers of the Chinese vanguard, fight bravely so that you won’t stain our honor. Those surviving must dig graves for those who die.”
At dawn the next day, all the men began to demolish the garrison. The work was completed at dusk, and as night fell, they set off toward Kan-chou. The entire force of three thousand cavalrymen pushed on without rest across rivers and sand dunes and through villages, arriving outside Kan-chou the next evening. Hsing-te alone could not keep up with this hard march. A day later, with the two men Wang-li had assigned to look after him, he caught up with the unit, stationed in a clearing outside Kan-chou. Swarms of Hsi-hsia troops gathered there.
The customary review of his troops by Li Yüan-hao before the battle was scheduled to take place two days after Hsing-te’s arrival.
The day before, Hsing-te got a pass and entered Kan-chou. He wanted to see this memory-filled garrison once more. Just as Liang-chou had changed completely, so too had Kan-chou. He stood below the city wall near the beacon, but found it hard to believe that this was the same wall he had stood on with the Uighur girl. Barracks lined the square below it, and the wall had been made even higher with additional stones and mortar. On the wall stood many sentries on duty.
Hsing-te searched for the house he had hidden the girl in, but the area had changed so much that he could not find it at all.
When he had given up looking, he went to the town center. He was almost ready to leave by the East Gate when he heard someone call out Li Yüan-hao’s name. He turned with the crowd and saw in the distance a man slowly riding toward them in the center of the road. There was no doubt that the dignified, stately figure on the horse was Li Yüan-hao, whom Hsing-te had previously seen outside Liang-chou. Hsing-te stopped and waited for him to pass. Li Yüan-hao went by, and just as the next person was about to pass him, Hsing-te felt a shock. He saw a girl, and not only that, but she was identical to the Uighur girl who had supposedly died.
Hsing-te ran up to her horse. Surprised by the sudden intruder, the horse reared. Simultaneously, the girl gave a soft gasp, and an emotion crossed her face, which Hsing-te did not miss. She looked at Hsing-te for an instant; the next moment she tightened her reins, sat upright and looked straight ahead as she rode away. She closed up the
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