Chapter 369: Five Hundred Ronin Raid the Trenches by Night

Sultan Agung had not yet spoken when Sa'id al-Din cried out, "Who lost?"

The Prime Minister said, "The Dutch fleet numbered more than thirty warships in total, and the entire force was annihilated. On the morning of the defeat, Batavia was bathed in crimson light from the sky—it seemed like divine punishment..."

"Divine punishment?" Sa'id al-Din murmured, "So the rumors are true, then? That Han Chinese named Lin Qian—is he truly a messenger of Allah?" The so-called rumors referred to the matter of Lin Qian commanding thunder and lightning during the Battle of Malacca.

The Dutch did not know much about this matter, for it involved heresy and witchcraft, and besides, Raerson's abandonment of his allies and solo flight was too disgraceful—the Company's high command had deliberately suppressed the news.

But in the Malay world, Aceh's national power was formidable and Sultan Muda's reputation rang loud, so the story spread widely.

"Present it." Sultan Agung's tone was grave.

The Prime Minister handed the secret letter to an attendant, who in turn gave it to the Sultan.

Sultan Agung received it and read word by word, line by line—the more he read, the more alarmed he became. He had deep personal experience of Dutch power.

During the Second Siege of Batavia, he had assembled the most powerful navy in the history of Java, with a total of over five hundred vessels, only to be easily defeated by the Dutch with a dozen or so warships, who also burned the granaries by the sea as an afterthought.

Even Sultan Agung had to admit that he was but the lord of Java—the lord of the seas was the Dutch.

Who would have thought that such a powerful and fearsome opponent could be so easily defeated by the Han Chinese...

Could it be that the Han Chinese had rebuilt Zheng He's treasure ships from two hundred years ago?

The spy who wrote this letter lived in Batavia's outer city, had no access to military secrets, and did not know the specific casualties of either side.

But the scene of the sky turned blood-red and the Dutch fleet either sinking or running aground—that he had witnessed with his own eyes, and it remained vivid in his memory.

The spy wrote like a poet, depicting that terrifying scene with vivid, lifelike detail.

Merely reading the letter, Sultan Agung could feel that intense sense of oppression.

The Prime Minister hesitated again and again, but finally pressed his palms together and said, "Your Majesty, I propose we ally with the Dutch to deal with the Han Chinese together."

Sa'id al-Din said angrily, "No! The Dutch are our mortal enemies!"

The Prime Minister said, "The Dutch merely occupy Batavia for trade and pose no threat to Mataram. But the Han Chinese are different—there are too many Han Chinese on the island of Java, and Great Xia is close to Java. Once Great Xia conquers Batavia, the Aceh Sultanate of today will be the Mataram of tomorrow." Even Sa'id al-Din felt a chill run down his neck after hearing these words.

Before the Battle of Malacca, the Aceh Sultanate's navy was the strongest, and Sultan Muda was hailed as the lord of the Malay world.

Yet after a single naval battle, Aceh's elite forces were all but wiped out, Sultan Muda was killed, his son-in-law ruled briefly before dying of poison, the nobles elevated Sultan Muda's daughter as a puppet Sultana, and then vassal states declared independence, regional strongmen rose, nobles carved up the land, and a great empire fell apart. What the Portuguese and Dutch had failed to accomplish in decades, the Han Chinese achieved in a single naval battle.

When it came to decisiveness in action and venomous cunning, no one in the world surpassed Lin Qian—even the Dutch, his mortal enemies, paled in comparison. Just as Sultan Agung was hesitating, he saw a guard hurrying toward the pavilion: "Your Majesty, a Dutch envoy requests an audience."

Sultan Agung said, "Let him in."

A moment later, Wilder entered, removed his hat, bowed in greeting, and introduced his identity and purpose.

"... The Acting Governor-General has promised that if we form an alliance and defeat the Great Xia army, the Dutch will no longer blockade the seas outside Surabaya's harbor, and from then on Mataram's merchant ships may sail freely on the Java Sea."

Such was the humiliation of a nation weak at sea. Though Mataram was on an island, it had almost no maritime trade, because the open seas were blockaded by the Dutch, and every merchant ship entering port had to pay heavy taxes to the Dutch.

Seeing Sultan Agung's expressionless face, Wilder gritted his teeth and raised the stakes further: "The Company is willing to provide your nation with a friendly assistance fund of five hundred thousand Dutch guilders." The Prime Minister's heart was immediately stirred, and forgetting courtly propriety, he repeatedly signaled the Sultan with his eyes.

Having failed twice in siege attempts, Mataram's national strength had been greatly depleted, finances could not meet expenditures, maritime trade was further blockaded, and heavy taxes could only be levied across the land—causing the common people to grumble and the nobles to be deeply dissatisfied as well.

This sum of five hundred thousand Dutch guilders was exactly the charcoal delivered in the snow—aid arriving at a time of dire need.

But Sultan Agung turned a blind eye to the Prime Minister's signals.

Wilder continued to raise his offers, promising many benefits, and when he saw that Sultan Agung still gave no response, his shame turned to anger: "Your Majesty, these terms are already extremely favorable..."

"I have already promised the Great Xia envoy that I will not involve myself in the dispute between the two sides." Sultan Agung spoke calmly.

Sa'id al-Din and the Prime Minister both moved to dissuade him, but Sultan Agung raised his hand to stop them.

"Please take your leave."

Wilder refused to give up and continued his persuasion, until he was driven out by the palace guards.

"Your Majesty, this is an excellent opportunity for us—if we only agree to the Dutch..."

Sultan Agung shook his head and said, "The Dutch promises cannot be trusted. Their wealth is all in Batavia—why don't we go take it ourselves?" The Prime Minister was stunned: "Your Majesty means..."

"Still waters do not lack crocodiles." Sultan Agung said with a hint of complacency.

This was a Javanese proverb of warning, roughly equivalent in meaning to "be vigilant in times of peace" or "the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind."

Used in this context, both the Prime Minister and his eldest son understood perfectly.

The Sultan intended to wait until Great Xia and the Dutch had crippled each other, then send out his forces to defeat both powerful enemies in one stroke!

Sultan Agung gave his orders: "Danureja, go to Surabaya's harbor and assure the Great Xia envoy that we will absolutely not interfere in the conflict between the two sides. You must do everything in your power to make the Great Xia envoy believe it."

The Prime Minister pressed his palms together in salute and said, "Your subject understands."

"Sa'id al-Din, you go prepare provisions and pay, and mobilize the army—but it must be concealed like a venomous snake, so that no one can see it coming."

Sa'id al-Din declared loudly, "Yes, Father!"

Sultan Agung smiled smugly and said, "Go. The day we unify Java is at hand."

Outside the city of Batavia, in the siege camp, Wang Ruzhong was discussing military intelligence with the Brigadier of the New Army's Second Battalion.

After several days of reconnaissance, the entire area within ten li of Batavia had been mapped out.

Wang Ruzhong pointed at one of the maps and said, "I think the eastern side of the city should be our main direction of attack. This area is close to the sea with few shoals, making it convenient to obtain fire support from naval guns.

Moreover, Batavia's eastern district is mainly administrative buildings, markets, and shops—compared to the western side, the population density is also lower, so artillery fire is less likely to accidentally harm civilians." As he spoke, Wang Ruzhong traced an advance route on the paper with his finger: "We'll dig a zigzag trench from the southeast corner, first break the outer city, then breach the bastions from the west and south. If all goes smoothly, we can take the city in at most a month and a half."

The bastions of Batavia were surrounded entirely by wetlands and mudflats, making it impossible to dig trenches for a direct assault—the outer city had to be broken first, then the bastions. This was also the ingenuity of Batavia's city defenses.

And Batavia's city walls were covered with bastion-like pointed protrusions, bristling with countless cannons and leaving no blind spots for fire—one could only attack from the corners of the walls using Vauban's engineering method.

"Fine, we'll make the main attack on the eastern city!" said the Brigadier of the New Army's Second Battalion, a man named Li Yu, who came from a Red Boat martial arts background.

The so-called Red Boat was the Cantonese opera troupe of this era, so named because the entire boat was painted vermilion, with the forward cabin serving as a stage and the rear cabin for lodging and storage. Because there were many water bandits in Fujian and Guangdong, Red Boat troupes had the guild rule of "fighting with real force"—that is, not learning flowery, showy moves but training in genuine martial arts, able to perform for audiences on ordinary days and to protect their lives when encountering water bandits.

During the Xianfeng era, Li Wenmao had led several thousand Red Boat disciples in rebellion, smashing through Guangdong's Green Standard Army all the way and pushing into Guangxi to establish the "Great Cheng Kingdom." While the corruption of the Qing army was certainly a factor, these Red Boat disciples were indeed extraordinarily skilled in martial arts.

Li Yu practiced martial arts year-round and could use various long and short weapons, but his specialties were butterfly short knives, rattan shield with waist saber, and eyebrow-level staff—and he was also literate. When the Great Xia New Army was first founded, Li Yu was already a rare talent; afterward he rose through military merit, attended the military academy, and finally became Brigadier of the New Army's Second Battalion.

Since the end of the Jiangxi campaign, most of the officers of the New Army's First Battalion had been seconded to the Provisional Seventh Division as instructors, and the other battalions had all participated in the Yunnan campaign—even the Third Battalion, which saw the least combat, had gotten its chance to fight in Guizhou.

Only the Second Battalion had returned to its garrison in Guangdong and remained in rest and refit. Li Yu's hands had long been itching for action, and now he said urgently, "So many days have passed—why do I only see digging behind us, not digging ahead of us? A fine show is being dragged out at a snail's pace!"

As he spoke, they heard someone outside the door washing their hands with clean water.

Wang Ruzhong smiled helplessly and said, "Master Ge has arrived. You can ask him directly."

Ge Hong shook the water from his hands as he walked into the military tent, sniffed the smell on his hands, and praised: "The rust smell of the caltrops is gone, and there's a faint fragrance of tea oil. The tea-oil soap really is a fine thing!"

Wang Ruzhong said: "Washing hands isn't just about the smell. When we attacked Yunnan, the army didn't see any outbreaks of disease, all thanks to the tea-oil soap."

"That impressive?" Ge Hong said, wiping his hands on his coarse hemp clothes and taking out the tea-oil soap to examine it.

"If you wipe it on your clothes, wasn't that a wasted wash?" Wang Ruzhong said urgently.

Ge Hong suddenly realized: "Aiyo! I'm muddled." With that he went outside the tent to wash his hands again. Fortunately, their position was right next to the Ciliwung River, so water was plentiful and there was no fear of waste.

Li Yu had been anxious ever since he heard the words "attack Yunnan" and had been unable to find a chance to interject. He simply chased out of the tent and asked: "Master Ge, why do we keep digging behind us instead of in front of us? When will we ever be able to attack into the city like this!"

Ge Hong washed his hands as he said: "What's behind us is called a blockade trench, used to protect the siege camp.

His Majesty ordered that the blockade trenches for this battle be dug with extra care — there are bad people behind us.

Don't worry, we have six thousand men, plus my engineers. Another day or two and it'll be finished."

Ge Hong had originally been the contractor who built the Lin estate on Nan'ao Island. Later he participated in the siege of Manila's star fort, and then oversaw the construction of the star forts at Pattani and Palembang. Now he was the Great Xia's foremost siege engineering master, and for this attack on Batavia, all construction of field works was under his command.

Li Yu's face lit up with joy: "So once the blockade trenches are finished, we can dig approach trenches forward and take the enemy city directly, right?"

"Haha, exactly right." Ge Hong finished washing his hands and kept flicking off water droplets. "The marines have dug approach trenches before and know the craft well, and we brought a batch of fine iron engineer's spades on the ships. The approach trenches will be dug very fast — they won't delay the general's assault on the city."

Over the following days, the Great Xia fleet sent falcon ships with orders for Zheng Zhilong's fleet to return, and used small boats to bring Jiang Wei back.

During this period, whale ships shuttled back and forth between the Thousand Islands and Batavia without pause, ferrying the New Army's Second Battalion into the siege positions in succession.

The Great Xia's initial landing force had only been a thousand marines, able to surround only one side of Batavia. Now the force had grown to six thousand, enough to completely encircle Batavia, and the blockade trenches were linked up, thoroughly trapping the city.

Now Batavia was truly besieged by both sea and land.

Acting Governor-General van der Meer was extremely anxious and personally climbed the city walls to inspect. He could see zigzag approach trenches spreading toward the walls like venomous snakes. Although the Great Xia's main attack direction was chosen at the east wall, with the breach point at the southeast corner of the walls, to confuse the enemy they had dug more than fifty approach trenches in total, approaching the walls from different directions.

No matter which direction van der Meer looked, he could see approach trenches.

Moreover, the Great Xia engineers and marines were extremely skilled at digging trenches, and manpower was more than ample. Every morning when they woke up, the trenches had advanced another twenty or thirty meters. Seeing the Governor-General's worried expression, Garrison Commander Roos said nonchalantly: "No need for concern, Your Excellency. Digging dirt is nothing but the farming tricks these savages are best at."

Against defending city cannon, any normal person would think of digging trenches to approach. The Mataram had dug trenches during both of their sieges of Batavia, but in the end they could not break through Batavia's moat, and still had to use scaling ladders to assault the walls, then suffer disastrous defeat under gunfire.

In Roos's view, the Great Xia's tactics were nothing more than repeating the Mataram's mistakes.

Van der Meer said: "Artillery, prepare!"

"Yes, Your Excellency." The gun crew chief on the wall beside him answered loudly, "Load!"

Van der Meer said: "Aim at the enemy trenches and fire."

A moment later, the eighteen-pound bronze cannon let out a thunderous boom. The cannonball grazed over the breastwork, bounced twice on the ground, then stopped, kicking up a cloud of dust — hitting nothing at all.

The gun crew test-fired several more times, and not a single cannonball landed in the trenches.

The gun crew chief wiped the sweat from his forehead and said carefully: "The enemy trenches are at awkward angles. Our gun positions have difficulty hitting them."

Van der Meer had long anticipated this result and asked: "Are there any gun positions facing directly toward the enemy trenches?"

"As far as I know, no, Your Excellency."

"Has the city's artillery managed to inflict casualties on the enemy or stop their advance?"

"No... Your Excellency." The gun crew chief wiped his sweat again.

Van der Meer looked at Roos: "When the Mataram besieged us, how long did they dig their trenches, and how many casualties did they suffer?"

Roos was momentarily at a loss for words. Batavia's star fort was extremely complex in construction, with a great many gun positions on the walls, and the Mataram had no experience attacking star forts. Many of their trenches were dug perpendicular to the walls, and a single shot from the defensive cannon could kill more than ten engineers at once.

Now the Great Xia's trenches looked chaotic and disorderly, yet they managed to avoid every gun position — truly most unusual.

Van der Meer said gravely: "Lucassohn is already dead. Do you still intend to keep underestimating the Great Xia?"

Roos muttered: "This is nothing but luck on the part of these Huojian people."

"Enough!" Van der Meer said angrily. "We cannot stand by and watch the enemy's trenches approach the walls — we must do something! Commander, how is the recruitment of your ronin mercenaries going?"

Roos licked his lips and said: "We've already recruited five hundred men."

Van der Meer said: "These Huojian people are like rats — they only dig at night and hide during the day. That makes them perfect targets for a night raid. Do you think our ronin mercenaries can handle this task?"

Roos laughed: "No problem! Those butchers have long been itching to cut off some Huojian heads!"

That night, Batavia's east city gate swung wide open, and more than five hundred ronin warriors filed out, charging by moonlight toward the places where digging sounds could be heard. The ronin leader was called Ryusuke, real name Shimazu Hisaryu, a collateral branch of the Shimazu clan of Satsuma domain. He had originally held a three-hundred-koku fief and lived quite well, but because he had participated in trading commodity vouchers, he lost everything and went bankrupt — even forfeiting his entire fief was not enough to repay his debts.

In Satsuma domain, a collateral branch bearing the Shimazu clan name like him, once debts became overdue, would be judged as having "disgraced the honor of the house," with punishments far exceeding those for ordinary retainers.

Shimazu Hisaryu could only flee to the Ryukyus, then wander on to the South Seas, becoming a mercenary in Batavia. Because his martial skill was outstanding and he dared to fight and risk his life for more bounty money, he was quickly promoted to mercenary leader.

Before today's sortie, Governor-General van der Meer had received them and personally promised that bringing back one Great Xia soldier's head would earn one hundred Dutch guilders.

Most of the ronin mercenaries in Batavia, like Shimazu Hisaryu, were burdened with enormous debts, or else were hopeless gamblers — all desperately in need of money. This promise sent every ronin into a frenzy of excitement.

Not long after the charge began, someone shouted excitedly in a wild roar: "Shōbu (certain victory)!"

Immediately all the ronin roared together, the sound shaking the heavens.

On Batavia's city wall, van der Meer heard the shouting and cursed: "A pack of fools!"

Fortunately, by the time the ronin gave their war cry they were already very close to the Great Xia trenches, and in the moonlight he could even see the figures of Great Xia soldiers fleeing in panic.

"Haha! It's too late to run now!" Roos shouted.

These ronin mercenaries were savage, cold-blooded, fearless of death, and their swordsmanship was superb.

During the first Mataram siege, Governor Lucassohn had also sent ronin out on a night raid. The scene was like a wolf pack charging into a sheep pen — the Mataram were cut down almost to the last man under the katana, and even the Mataram's chief general, Baoleska, was beheaded by the ronin. That was how the first Mataram siege collapsed. Now, judging from the panicked flight of the Great Xia soldiers, the kills would likely be no fewer than in the first Mataram siege — perhaps even more.

Soon, screams rose one after another from the approach trenches.

Hearing this sound, van der Meer couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. As the saying goes, "pride goes before destruction" — the Huojian people had won their fleet battle too easily, and their land defense was too lax. The night raid had succeeded.

But very quickly, van der Meer noticed something wrong. Though the screams were many, the sounds of clashing weapons and battle cries were few and far between.

In the dim moonlight, he could not make out the details of the fighting, only that the mercenaries seemed to be blocked by something.

On the open ground east of the city, many ronin, as they ran, would let out a piercing scream and then immediately pitch forward and fall, as if struck by invisible blades.

After running about thirty paces, more than ten men had already fallen this way. Even Shimazu Hisaryu felt fear rising in his heart and looked around in every direction.

Suddenly a sharp pain shot up from under his foot. Shimazu Hisaryu collapsed directly to the ground. Instinctively he reached out a hand to brace himself, only for another searing pain to stab through his left hand. Tears streamed from his eyes from the agony, he let out a blood-curdling scream, and his katana clattered to the ground.

Shimazu Hisaryu endured the pain and raised his palm. The hand was covered in blood and caked with mud, and through the very center of the palm, a rusted iron spike had pierced clean through and was still dripping blood — hideous and terrifying.

Shimazu Hisaryu endured the sharp pain, pulling the spike out with his hands. Tears overflowed uncontrollably from the pain, and he shouted: "It's caltrops! Careful!" At these words, the ronin's charge instantly stalled. They could only lower their heads and move forward awkwardly, and sure enough, they saw many upward-pointing spikes on the ground. The sky was dim now, and those caltrops were pitch black all over, their surfaces covered in rust. Scattered on the ground, they were almost the same color as the dirt — hard to spot even in daylight, and even harder to see at night.

Even walking with heads lowered, people were still occasionally pierced by the spikes, collapsing to the ground with screams of agony.

Vauban's siege method had an underlying assumption: that the gap in strength between attacker and defender was enormous, and the defenders would not sally out to harass. Therefore, the trenches had no design for defending against harassment.

During the Battle of Ganzhou, the New Army had suffered repeated harassment from the Guanning Army because of this, taking some hidden losses.

But a man doesn't trip over the same problem twice. Since then, the entire army had spent a long time devising tactics against sallies from the defenders. Scattering caltrops was merely the simplest, most obvious trick.

In the Great Ming, iron was a vital resource. A single caltrop consumed only two or three liang of iron, but these things worked through density. A defensive line a hundred zhang wide required at least three to four thousand caltrops, which added up to over nine hundred jin of pig iron — and after the battle they were nearly impossible to recover, making them almost a semi-disposable consumable. For the Great Ming, that much pig iron was far less cost-effective than producing more swords and arrowheads, so caltrops were not used extensively.

But Great Xia had no such concern at all. With the pig iron supplied by Foye, Great Xia could scatter caltrops without limit.

When fighting in the Great Ming, the Great Xia army still considered post-battle cleanup and was relatively restrained with caltrops. But on the island of Java, they had no scruples whatsoever. Both the inner and outer sides of the siege camp had long been covered with caltrops. And this place was hot — ordinary shoes couldn't be worn at all. Whether ronin or natives, everyone wore straw sandals with thin soles that couldn't stop caltrops at all. Step on one, and it would pierce straight through the top of the foot.

Shimazu Hisaryu endured the pain and pulled the caltrop from his foot again, rolling his eyes uncontrollably from the agony. He then retrieved his katana and pushed himself to his feet.

The ronin were all comically shuffling forward slowly. Some were even sliding along the ground rather than lifting their feet.

At this moment, the ronin were only a little over fifty paces from the trench. Once they got inside, they would be safe.

Shimazu Hisaryu didn't believe the enemy would scatter caltrops inside the trench as well.

Just then, a row of orange muzzle flashes flickered from the parallel trench, followed by the thunderous crack of a volley.

"Get down!" someone shouted loudly. The next instant, a bullet struck that man square in the chest. His final syllable cut off abruptly, his chest caved in as if struck by a heavy hammer, and he toppled over violently, leaving a mist of blood hanging in the air.

"Whiz! Whiz..." The sound of bullets tearing through the air at extreme speed came from beside their ears.

A dozen or more ronin were hit in succession. These were Great Xia's heavy flintlock muskets — a hit to the chest or abdomen left a gaping hole in the back, and a hit to a limb would surely sever an arm or a leg.

The ronin's position was a sugarcane field, but the sugarcane had already been burned by the Great Xia army. Now it was flat ground with no cover at all. And with caltrops all around, they couldn't run away either — they could only serve as live targets.

The ronin were struck down one after another, cries of agony filling the air.

Shimazu Hisaryu roared: "Get down! Get down now!"

Many ronin followed his order and escaped disaster. Others, scared out of their wits, ran toward Batavia — only to step on caltrops again within a few paces and tumble to the ground. The ronin had come for a blade assault and hadn't brought any firearms at all. Now they could only take the beating passively.

A moment later, the gunfire ceased. Shimazu Hisaryu said in a low voice: "Now!"

With that, he forced himself to rise and walked toward the trench. Despite the heavy casualties, the honor of the samurai would not let him retreat.

Many ronin rose with him and charged fiercely toward the trench. A moment later, another volley rang out.

Over a dozen ronin were hit and pitched headfirst to the ground.

"Get down!" Shimazu Hisaryu shouted.

Because the night was pitch black and the ronin hadn't lit torches, as long as they lay flat, they were hard to spot.

After repeating this several times, Shimazu Hisaryu finally reached the vicinity of the trench.

"Come quickly! There are no caltrops here!"

Under his command, several dozen more ronin tumbled into the communication trench. The ronin drew their katanas and crept forward silently along the zigzagging trench, and after turning who knows how many corners, they finally reached the parallel trench.

The parallel trench was beyond the range of the city wall's cannons, and the torches there were blazing bright.

When Shimazu Hisaryu finally managed to adjust to the light and take in the scene before him, he immediately drew in a cold breath. There, behind the breastwork of the parallel trench, was a cannon — its pitch-black muzzle aimed down at them from a commanding height.

Yahei

Pink Round

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