Conqueror: The Complete 5-Book Collection. Conn IgguldenЧитать онлайн книгу.
had been planned within those red walls; it was a place to save and win a kingdom, rich with its own history. General Giam’s lacquered armour was such a perfect match for the room that he almost vanished against the walls. Rai Chiang himself wore a tunic of gold over black silk trousers.
The general was white-haired, a man of dignity. He could feel the history of the Xi Xia hanging heavy in the air of that ancient room, as heavy as the responsibility he would bear himself.
He placed another marker of ivory on the lines of dark blue ink.
‘Their camp is here, Majesty, not far from where they entered the kingdom. They send their warriors out to raid a hundred li in every direction.’
‘A man cannot ride further in a day, so they must make other camps for the night,’ Rai Chiang murmured. ‘Perhaps we can attack them there.’
His general shook his head slightly, unwilling openly to contradict his king.
‘They do not rest, Majesty, or stop for food. We have scouts who say they ride that far and then back from dawn to sunset. When they take prisoners, they are slower, driving them before them. They have no infantry and carry supplies with them from the main camp.’
Rai Chiang frowned delicately, knowing that would be enough criticism to make the general sweat in his presence.
‘Their camp is not important, general. The army must engage and break these riders who have caused so much destruction. I have a report of a pile of dead peasants as high as a mountain. Who will gather the crops? The city could starve even if these invaders left us today!’
General Giam made his face a mask rather than risk further anger.
‘Our army will need time to form and prepare the ground. With the royal guard to lead them, I can have the fields sown with spikes that will destroy any charge. If the discipline is good, we will crush them.’
‘I would have preferred to have Chin soldiers with my own militia,’ Rai Chiang said as if to himself.
The general cleared his throat, knowing it was a sensitive subject.
‘All the more need for your own guards, Majesty. The militia are little better than peasants with weapons. They cannot stand on their own.’
Rai Chiang turned his pale eyes on his general.
‘My father had forty thousand trained soldiers to man the walls of Yinchuan. As a child, I watched the red ranks parade through the city on his birthday and there seemed no end to them.’ He grimaced irritably. ‘I have listened to fools and counted the cost of so many over the dangers we could face. There are barely twenty thousand in my own guard and you would have me send them out? Who then would defend the city? Who would form the teams for the great bows and hold the walls? Do you think the peasants and merchants will be of any use to us once my guard have gone out? There will be food riots and fires. Plan to win without them, general. There is no other way.’
General Giam had been born to one of the king’s uncles and promotion had come easily. Yet he had courage enough to face Rai Chiang’s disapproval.
‘If you give me ten thousand of your guard, they will steady the others. They will be a core the enemy cannot break.’
‘Even ten thousand is too many,’ Rai Chiang snapped.
General Giam swallowed.
‘Without cavalry, I cannot win, my lord. With even five thousand guards and three thousand of those on heavy horse, I would have a chance. If you cannot give me that, you should execute me now.’
Rai Chiang raised his eyes from the map and found General Giam’s gaze steady. He smiled, amused at the bead of sweat that was making its way down the man’s cheek.
‘Very well. It is a balance between giving you the best we have and still keeping enough to defend the city. Take a thousand crossbowmen, two of cavalry and two more of heavy pikes. They will be the core that leads the others against the enemy.’
General Giam closed his eyes in silent thanks for an instant. Rai Chiang did not notice as he turned back to the map.
‘You may empty the stores of armour. The militia may not be my red guards, but perhaps looking like them will give them courage. It will relieve the boredom of hanging profiteers and whitewashing the barracks, I have no doubt. Do not fail me in this, general.’
‘I will not, Your Majesty.’
Genghis rode at the head of his army, a vast line of horsemen that stretched across the plain of the Xi Xia. As they came to canals, the line would bulge as men raced each other over the drop, laughing and calling to anyone who fell into the dark water and had to ride hard to catch up.
The city of Yinchuan had been a smear on the horizon for hours before Genghis gave the order to halt. Horns sounded up and down the line and the host came to a stop, with echoing orders passing down to alert men on the wings. This was hostile country and they would not be taken by surprise.
The city loomed in the distance. Even miles away, it seemed a massive construction, intimidating in its sheer size. Genghis squinted into the haze of the afternoon sun. The stone the builders had used was a dark grey and he could see columns that could have been towers inside the walls. He could not guess their purpose and strove not to show his awe in front of the men.
He looked around him, seeing that his people could not be ambushed on such a flat piece of ground. The crops could have hidden crawling soldiers, but his scouts would sight them long before they were close. It was as safe as anywhere could be to set up camp and he made the decision, dismounting as he gave his orders.
Behind him, the tribes scurried in the routines they knew. Gers were lashed together and raised by individual families long used to the work. A village, a town, a city of their own sprang out of the carts and herds of bleating animals. It was not long before Genghis’ own cart came up and the smell of frying mutton filled the air.
Arslan walked along the line with his son Jelme. Under their eyes, the warriors of all the tribes stood tall and kept their chatter to a minimum. Genghis approved and he was ready with a smile as they reached him.
‘I have never seen such a flat land,’ Arslan said. ‘There is nowhere to hold, nowhere to retreat to if we are overwhelmed. We are too exposed here.’
His son Jelme raised his eyes at the words, but did not speak. Arslan was twice the age of the other generals and he led cautiously and with intelligence. He would never be a firebrand amongst the tribes, though his skill was respected, and his temper feared.
‘We will not be turned, Arslan. Not from here,’ Genghis replied, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘We will make them come out from that city, or if they will not, perhaps I will just build a ramp of earth to the top of their walls and ride in. That would be a thing to see, would it not?’
Arslan’s smile was tight. He had been one of those who had ridden closer to Yinchuan, close enough for them to waste arrows on him.
‘It is like a mountain, lord. You will see when you ride close to the walls. Each corner has a tower and the walls are set with slits where archers poke their faces through to watch you pass. It would be hard to hit them, while they have an easy shot against us.’
Genghis lost some of his good humour.
‘I will see it first before I decide. If it will not fall to us, I will starve them out.’
Jelme nodded at the idea. He had ridden with his father close enough to feel the shadow of the city on his back. For a man used to the open steppes, he found himself irritated at the thought of such an ant hill of men. The very idea offended him.
‘The canals pass into the city, lord,’ Jelme said, ‘through tunnels barred with iron. I am told they wash away the dung of so many people and animals. There may be a weakness there.’
Genghis brightened. He had ridden all day and he was weary. There would be time to plan the assault tomorrow when he had eaten and rested.
‘We