Chapter 378: Three-Pronged Assault, Second Siege

"Good news?" The Great Xia generals at the table all looked baffled.

Lin Qian passed the document around for everyone to read.

Zheng Zhilong took it, glanced over it, then said in a low voice: "What nerve. We weren't looking for trouble with them, yet they go and provoke us first!" What he held was the report from the New Army's Second Battalion — traces of Mataram troop movements had appeared upstream of the Ciliwung River.

According to various signs, the Mataram army numbered somewhere between five thousand and thirty thousand, split into multiple columns, converging upstream of the Ciliwung River.

Bai Qing read the document and said: "Five to thirty thousand? That range is far too wide."

Lu Ruoteng said: "Mataram has besieged Batavia twice before. They've long since built granaries, forts, and armories along the route — no need to transport provisions first, and they can march in dispersed columns. The dense rainforest canopy along the way also blocks visibility, so they truly are hard to scout."

Zheng Zhilong's expression tightened. He leaned close to Lin Qian's ear and whispered: "Your Majesty, Mataram chose to advance precisely when we withdrew our mercenaries. Could Aban and the others..."

Lin Qian said: "Don't let your imagination run wild."

Bai Qing said: "Your Majesty, what do we do?"

Lin Qian picked up a coconut crab claw and said: "Don't panic. Eat first, then we'll talk. Have Wang Ruzhong, Li Yu, and Ge Hong come to the Governor-General's residence tonight." Late at night, candles burned bright in the Governor-General's residence meeting room.

Li Yu's face was heavy as he said slowly: "This afternoon our scouts discovered that the Mataram army is camped upstream of the Ciliwung River, in the Cianjur River valley area. That's less than two hundred li from Batavia, and the route is all valley flatland — suitable for marching. They can reach the walls of Batavia within ten days." A map lay spread on the conference table, crudely drawn — basically only Batavia and the Ciliwung River, with everything around them blank, occasionally marked with a few rivers and lakes. Even the Cianjur River valley had been added on just now.

Bailangzai said: "Have you found out how many enemies there are?"

Li Yu said, looking somewhat embarrassed: "Roughly twenty to fifty thousand."

Wang Ruzhong explained: "That cursed place, the Cianjur River valley, is all trees — truly hard to see clearly. And the Mataram scouts are extremely skilled at rainforest skirmishing; our own scouts can hardly get close."

Lu Ruoteng hesitated for a moment, then said: "Your servant requests that Your Majesty observe the battle from aboard ship."

Lin Qian smiled slightly: "Why? Are you worried Batavia can't hold?"

Lu Ruoteng said: "No, Batavia will certainly hold. It's just that the Mataram fight with base tactics. If they can't take the city after a long siege, they'll surely resort to their old trick — poisoning the Ciliwung River. Once plague breaks out in the city... Your Majesty's person is worth ten thousand in gold; you must not place yourself in danger. I beg you to watch from the ship."

This was no alarmist talk. Historically, during Mataram's second siege of Batavia, they used the tactic of contaminating the water supply, giving the Governor-General of Batavia dysentery, from which he died.

But Lin Qian said calmly: "No need to worry. The enemy won't be mounting a long siege at all."

Lin Qian looked at Ge Hong: "Seven days — is that enough to fill in the moats outside the walls and seal up the breaches in the city wall?"

Ge Hong clasped his fists: "More than enough."

Lin Qian looked at Li Yu again: "With just your New Army Second Battalion, can you hold Batavia?"

"Your subordinate does not even fear attacking a city — what difficulty is there in defending one?"

Wang Ruzhong said urgently: "Your Majesty, your subordinate still has a thousand marines under his command!"

Lin Qian smiled faintly: "Exactly! You go here..."

Lin Qian picked up a teaching pointer and moved it across that incomplete map of Java, all the way past the edge of the map, and tapped on the blank surface of the table. "Yogyakarta!"

As his words fell, a staff officer brought over a map and spread it on the empty spot on the table. The Mataram capital, Yogyakarta, lay right beneath Lin Qian's pointer. The island of Java as a whole can be roughly divided into three parts: west, central, and east.

West Java is where Batavia lies. Apart from Batavia, it is basically all rainforest, volcanoes, and scattered villages.

East Java is the homeland of the Surabaya Sultanate — the Surabaya that Jiang Wei visited before, and Old Pajang, whom the Dutch considered most suitable as a puppet, are both there. The Mataram Sultanate, meanwhile, rose in Central Java. Its greatest difference from East and West Java is that the south has a small stretch of sandy beach, convenient for landings. And coincidentally, its capital, Yogyakarta, lies just north of that sandy beach, less than fifty li from the coastline.

To the Mataram, placing the capital there kept it far from the powerful enemies in the east and west, and it sat in a basin with dense river networks, abundant rice production, and a dense population — utterly secure.

But to a maritime power, wasn't putting the capital in Yogyakarta just asking for death?

Great Xia found it hard to scout the rainforest on land, but scouting Java's coastline from the sea posed no difficulty at all. The moment Lin Qian saw the map, he had already chosen his landing point.

When everyone saw where Lin Qian's pointer indicated, their breathing immediately grew heavy.

A strike straight into the enemy's heart — this was military merit of the highest order!

How had such a good thing fallen onto Wang Ruzhong's head?

Li Yu tried several times to speak up and claim this mission of striking the enemy's heart for himself, but he opened his mouth, then didn't dare say it. This kind of surprise landing operation truly was best suited to the marines.

Wang Ruzhong stood frozen on the spot, then the corner of his mouth twitched, involuntarily curling upward before he forced it back down with all his might. He immediately rose and clasped his fists: "Your subordinate will surely break the enemy's lair!"

Lin Qian gestured for him to sit: "I'm not sending you to take the city. Just create a deterrent effect, grab some advantages, and leave.

The stability of a Mandala polity is bound to the leader's military achievements. As long as you threaten the capital region, even if it's just a hard slap across Sultan Agung's face, civil strife is certain to break out within his realm.

But if you underestimate the enemy and press forward recklessly, and the Mataram defeat you, then we'll have helped Sultan Agung consolidate his throne instead.

You must understand the stakes involved here."

Wang Ruzhong acknowledged solemnly.

Lin Qian still wasn't reassured, and instructed: "We still don't know the composition of the Mataram forces on the march, nor the state of Yogyakarta's surrounding defenses. Remember — no greed for glory, no reckless advance. Seek no merit, but seek no fault. If anything goes wrong, I will not be lenient!"

"Your subordinate obeys!" Wang Ruzhong once again clasped his fists solemnly.

"Bailangzai, take your South Sea Fleet here..."

As he spoke, Lin Qian pointed again at the map, tapping on the coastline due north of Yogyakarta. This stretch of coastline was roughly one hundred and sixty li long, containing three major seaports, named Pekalongan, Batang, and Semarang.

Of these, Semarang was the largest, its town situated at the mouth of the Garang River, serving to connect sea and land.

Yogyakarta lay due south of the three ports. Nearly all of the capital's foreign trade goods — salt, cloth, copper, iron, firearms, and everything else — flowed through, were distributed from, and were purchased at these three ports.

If these three ports came under attack, the capital's supplies would be cut off directly.

This was the second slap Lin Qian delivered to Sultan Agung's face.

Bailangzai rose and clasped his fists: "I'll blast every ship to the bottom and blow apart every dock."

Zheng Zhilong said: "Brother Bai, rest assured. When I made my feint, I saw these ports — their defenses are lax. Either they have no cannons at all, or their artillery is obsolete. They pose no threat to a fleet."

Lin Qian continued: "Yiguan, take the Zhulong, Tianyuan, and Zheng He — three ships — along with Jiang Wei, and go here."

Lin Qian pointed at Surabaya harbor.

Zheng Zhilong said: "No problem. I've got the shipping routes memorized."

Lin Qian said: "According to Dutch investigations, there's an old Surabaya royal named Banggelan; Pékik here. This man is an excellent partner for cooperation. Together we can overthrow the tyrant Agung.

While Jiang Wei is negotiating, the three ships including the Zhulong can use their hulls and sterncastles to put on a show of force.

If this Old Pékik cooperates, fine. If he doesn't..."

Zheng Zhilong laughed coldly: "I guarantee I'll make him cooperate willingly."

Wang Ruzhong's and Bailangzai's attacks were actually just harassment — mainly political blows. But cooperating with the old Surabaya nobles was the military move of cutting the firewood from under the cauldron.

If Wang and Bai's actions were a slap to the face, then turning the old Surabaya nobles was a kick to the groin.

Three parties, three prongs of attack, leaving Sultan Agung's face and substance both thoroughly lost.

Lin Qian nodded and said to Bai Qing: "The remaining two fourth-rate ships, Yunming and Xingming, along with three fifth-rate Cang-class ships and eight yacht vessels, will be under your command to blockade the Sunda Strait.

If you encounter the Dutch main fleet, do not fight head-on—use the eagle ships to send word to the three detached fleets at Yogyakarta, Surabaya, and Semarang, and have all fleets withdraw together to Batavia harbor."

The greatest reliance of Lin Qian's plan was command of the sea, and its greatest weakness was the dispersal of naval strength—hence the necessity of blockading the Sunda Strait. Better to have the operation fail and the entire fleet withdraw to Batavia than to give the Dutch any chance to pick them off one by one.

Great Xia had ample cards in hand; even if the navy withdrew entirely, relying on the army to hold fast would surely be enough to defend Batavia—there was no need to stake everything on a single throw. Bai Qing accepted the order, then said: "Your Majesty, with such an arrangement, Batavia will have no large warships left."

Lin Qian said: "Correct. The fleet's original plan was to return north tomorrow, and we will still publicly claim the original plan is unchanged. Bailangzai's South Sea Fleet will posture as if preparing to attack the Spice Islands..."

As Lin Qian spoke, he moved a pointer across the map, tracing out the approximate routes of the three attack lines.

Lin Qian said: "The Mataram have operated on Java for many years, and there are numerous native informants both inside and outside Batavia. We'll turn their game against them—use the fleet's departure from port to mislead the Mataram army."

The assembled men exchanged glances and nodded inwardly, feeling the plan was meticulous to the extreme, seamless without a flaw.

However, Lu Ruoteng frowned and said: "If so, Batavia's sea gate will be thrown wide open. Your Majesty should board a ship to oversee the battle."

Lin Qian slowly shook his head: "No. I will remain in Batavia. The soldiers of the Second Battalion will never let the enemy set one step inside the city."

Receiving such trust from Lin Qian, Li Yu felt a surge of hot blood rush to his head. He abruptly rose, clasped his fists, and said with murderous intent: "This officer is willing to sign a pledge—if the city falls, I offer my head for the axe!"

"Excellent!" Lin Qian slapped the table and rose with a smile. "Gentlemen, proceed according to the plan. I shall await your triumphant return at the Batavia Governor-General's residence!" The next day, Bai Qing, Wang Ruzhong, and Zheng Zhilong departed port separately. The three fleets first sailed into the Java Sea pretending to head north together as a group, and only after reaching the open sea did they split apart, each going its own way.

Two days later, Bailangzai led the remainder of the South Sea Fleet out of port. Once clear of the main shipping lane, it turned east—straight toward the direction of the Spice Islands. On the dock, a native laborer carrying a sack of grain watched this scene, lost in thought.

A Han Chinese overseer beside him urged: "What are you staring at? Orders from above—the dockside warehouses must be cleared out, all cargo moved into the city!" The native laborer's heart stirred. The single largest category of goods entering Batavia's port every year was spices. Combined with the direction the fleet had sailed, the South Sea Fleet's destination could not be plainer.

He hoisted a sack of rice and headed toward the inner city, seizing the chance to sweep his gaze across the sea. Aside from Great Xia's sea-wolf ships and eagle ships anchored by the harbor, all the large warships had departed—Batavia lay empty and hollow.

The native committed this scene to memory. After finishing work at midnight, he went to a cooked-food stall in the city called "Dawud's Stall," ordered a plate of coconut rice and palm wine, and while waiting for his food, quietly reported the intelligence to the owner.

The owner returned to the back kitchen, compiled the intelligence from various "little rats," wrote it on a slip of paper, sealed it in a bamboo tube, and bound it to the axle of a handcart. Early the next morning, a purchaser pushed the handcart out of the city to buy supplies. The bamboo tube passed through the city gate, crossed the sugarcane fields, traversed the siege trenches that were being filled in, and slipped onto a jungle path, threading through the rainforest until it quickly reached the upper reaches of the Ciliwung River.

The Mataram army was on the march. The bamboo tube was passed up the chain of command until it finally reached the hands of General-in-Chief Bahu.

Before the Sultan, Bahu opened the bamboo tube and read it aloud. All the Mataram generals wore strange expressions—wanting to laugh but not daring to.

When Great Xia had attacked Batavia, it had happened to coincide with the Christmas Fleet's departure from port, leaving Batavia's defenses hollow.

And now, when Mataram came to attack, the same situation prevailed. Surely this was a sign from Allah—this battle would surely take Batavia!

After a moment of silence, Sultan Agung said: "Order the vanguard to accelerate their march. We must seize the waterworks of the Ciliwung River and the siege trenches before the city." Bahu personally led the elite royal guard, traveling light and fast, and reached the Ciliwung River dam a day later.

Ge Hong had already ordered the diversion channel filled in—from the rainforest, one could only see the Ciliwung flowing along its original course.

Bahu slapped his thigh in fury.

A Mataram engineer said: "General, the Great Xia men can fill in the diversion channel, but they cannot erase the traces of the excavated channel. Where they backfilled, the vegetation is sparse and the soil is loose. We only need to dig at the original site."

Bahu pondered for a moment, then commanded in a low voice: "Leave the diversion channel for the patihs in the southwest to dig. We'll go seize the siege trenches—march faster!" Another day passed, and Bahu led the vanguard out of the rainforest, encamping southeast of Batavia, choosing the old site of Great Xia's siege camp. They then felled trees to build scaling ladders and palisades.

Three hundred auxiliary soldiers, farm tools in hand, dug under the direction of the Mataram engineers along the traces of Great Xia's trenches.

Three more days passed, and the Mataram main force led by Sultan Agung also emerged from the rainforest, completely encircling Batavia.

On the city wall, Lin Qian raised his telescope and surveyed the enemy camp.

The Mataram forces spread out like a flood—hills and fields alike were covered with their thatched huts of nipa palm leaves, surrounded by palisades. Behind the camp gates were crude barbicans, and chevaux-de-frise were placed both inside and outside the gates.

Scouts and hidden sentries were scattered around the perimeter, bamboo-spike traps were strewn about the camp's surroundings, and a dozen or more watchtowers rose within the camp.

Mataram soldiers worked in coordinated divisions, bustling between the camp structures—building siege weapons, digging trenches, busy as a beehive.

Their soldiers uniformly wore head wraps in three colors: red, black, and white.

Of these, those wearing black and red head wraps were the most numerous.

The red-turbaned troops were positioned in the center of the camp, with the best equipment—wearing chainmail shirts covering chest and back, holding matchlock muskets, with Malay krises or machetes at their waists. The black-turbaned troops were next in equipment—most wore tunics but no armor, and their weapons were mostly spears and shields.

Those wearing white turbans had the worst equipment—almost no weapons, some without even clothes, holding farm tools as they dug trenches. They were clearly conscripted peasant auxiliaries. Gazing across the field, their total strength was roughly forty thousand. Even the auxiliaries alone numbered nearly ten thousand, scattered like termites across the farmland outside Batavia, stubbornly digging forward along the traces of Great Xia's trenches.

When the trenches had been backfilled, large quantities of caltrops around the city had not been picked clean. With time short, Ge Hong had simply buried them along with the soil back into the trenches. The Mataram soldiers wore no shoes, and were frequently stabbed while digging—but their commanders paid it no mind, working day and night without pause. Moreover, they only dug approach trenches, not parallel trenches or blocking trenches, so their advance was swift.

Within just three days of the siege, the forward ends of the approach trenches were only three hundred paces from the city wall.

Ge Hong had never imagined the Mataram would dig with such reckless abandon. Looking at it now, his backfilling had become a joke—it hadn't stopped the Mataram at all. His expression was embarrassed, cold sweat streaming down, and he clasped his fists: "Your—Your Majesty, I... I have failed Your Majesty's trust. Please punish me."

Lin Qian waved his hand: "This is not your fault."

This was not Lin Qian comforting him—he genuinely did not care. Great Xia's methods were not so easy to copy.

The Mataram's shoddy engineering was fast, yes, but without parapets, without bomb-proof shelters, without casualty control—could that still be called Vauban siegecraft? It was merely an upgraded version of crude traditional siege methods.

To Lin Qian's right, several temporary cranes on the city wall were hoisting twelve nine-pounder cannons onto the battlements.

Zhulong's mission was to put on a show of force—ordinary cannons would serve just as well. These twelve rifled-bore cannons had been removed from her deck to reinforce the city's defenses. By now the hoisting was nearly complete; all twelve guns had been settled into their positions, and the cranes were lifting crates of fixed powder charges and shot up to the wall top. Each gun was allotted fifty rounds of shot and powder, piled high around every gun crew.

At the temporary storage area beneath the wall, there were another six hundred cannonballs and four thousand five hundred catties of gunpowder—munitions were more than sufficient.

On the city wall, gun crews were using the triangulation method to calculate target distances.

"Elevation 3 degrees, full charge!"

"Aim at the enemy's zigzag trench!"

As the gun crews issued their commands, the muzzles of the nine-pounders all swung to bear on their targets.

Lin Qian said to Ge Hong: "Watch closely—what comes next will be quite spectacular."

"First volley—fire!"

"Boom, boom, boom..." The twelve nine-pounders thundered in succession, gunsmoke billowing from their muzzles.

Through the telescope, a cannonball smashed through a parapet and slammed precisely into the zigzag trench. Mud and smoke sprayed in all directions as the ball ricocheted repeatedly along the trench floor, plowing all the way down its course—the loose sidewalls collapsed in a stretch of seven or eight meters.

A Mataram auxiliary soldier failed to dodge in time and was buried head-first by the falling earth. His comrades dug him out with their bare hands, and he fled covered in dirt and grime.

Lin Qian knew that backfilled soil lacked the cohesion of native earth. Even if dug to the same depth and slope, the sidewalls would collapse under cannon fire or torrential rain—and once collapsed, the gentle slope formed on the sides would lose its protective function for advancing troops.

After the first volley, Mataram casualties were light, but three approach trenches had collapsed, severely blunting their offensive.

The artillery crews had ample time, carefully adjusting their angles and reloading their ammunition.

About two minutes later, another volley. A cannonball rode up the collapsed gentle slope and plunged into the approach trench—three Mataram auxiliary soldiers were instantly crushed to pulp, blood mist spraying across the sky, shredded flesh embedded in the mud.

Shells that didn't land inside the approach trench slammed hard into the ground, and the vibration traveled through the earth, causing several more sections of the approach trench to collapse.

After several such volleys, all of Mataram's auxiliary troops withdrew from the approach trench.

The cannon positions on the east and west city walls of Batavia held the Dutchmen's mixed-caliber guns, whose power and accuracy were uneven, lacking the firing effect of the south wall.

But the trenches on the east and west sides had been soaked by water, and the water table was high. To avoid seepage, the Mataram men could only dig their trenches shallow, giving limited protection. After a few volleys, the auxiliary troops suffered heavy casualties and were forced to retreat.

The following days were all the same—the closer the approach trench got to the city wall, the more accurate Daxia's bombardment became, and the heavier Mataram's casualties grew.

Vauban's siege method emphasized coordination between firepower and fortifications, using trench fire to suppress the city walls while supporting tunnel excavation.

The Mataram men also had cannons, but very few of them, and they couldn't withstand attrition. Their tunnels had poor foundations, their fortifications were fragile, and they couldn't defend against Daxia's bombardment. This created a vicious cycle—the worse the fortifications, the harder it was to advance firepower; the less fire cover the auxiliary troops had, the more perfunctory their fortifications became.

In the end, the approach trench was dug to about a hundred paces from the city wall, and then it could go no further. The situation fell into a stalemate.

The Mataram men could only resort to their old trick again—building a dam upstream on the Ciliwung River and poisoning the water.

Late at night, Fan Di walked along the south city wall, his face full of worry. He never imagined that within a mere half year, he would encounter the siege-and-water-cutoff affair twice. Reflected in the moonlight, he could see that the water level of the Ciliwung River had already dropped noticeably.

The Mataram men couldn't build a dam to cut off the flow entirely, but they could dig open the diversion channel again. With the main channel's flow reduced, the river level fell, seawater surged in, and salinization set in. To protect the water quality, Batavia could only open and close the tidal sluice intermittently—which in turn caused toxins to accumulate.

"Thump!" A dull sound came from the sluice dam.

The public works engineer on duty said, "Damn it, another one!"

Fan Di walked to the sluice dam and saw a pitch-black object floating in the river. Someone was using a long pole to poke at it and guide it to the riverbank. Once it reached the shore, several men grabbed and pulled at it, but couldn't budge it. They fetched ropes and tied them around it, and it took more than ten men straining with all their might to drag the thing ashore.

By the moonlight, Fan Di could make out that it was a water buffalo. Its belly was swollen like a ball, blackish-brown putrid blood and fluid oozed from its mouth and nose, its hide was covered in dark green death spots, the skin on its chest and abdomen was slightly ulcerated, and the stench of decay was overpowering.

This was a buffalo that had died of rinderpest, deliberately left in a cool, shady place for two or three days after death to let it rot, then thrown into the water when the toxicity was at its strongest. This was already the fifth water buffalo hauled up today, along with more than a dozen dead sheep.

Cattle and sheep were the most common livestock in Javanese villages, and virulent plagues like rinderpest and anthrax were endemic year-round. Carcasses of the dead could be requisitioned directly from the surrounding vassal villages—as many as one wanted, with no need for deliberate preparation.

Fan Di had already seen this kind of poisoning spectacle during the last Mataram siege, so it was nothing new to him.

What was unusual, though, was that the men hauling the livestock up were washing their hands with clean water. That was not common.

Fan Di was greatly alarmed. He hurried down from the city wall and shouted, "Stop! What are you doing? Stop at once!"

"Master Fan?" Ge Hong said, shaking the water droplets off his hands.

Only then did Fan Di see that all those hauling the livestock were Daxia soldiers. His momentum immediately shrank by three parts. He lowered his head and rubbed his hands together, saying, "The Mataram men have cut off Batavia's water source. Every mouthful of fresh water is precious now. You can't do this...

Of course, I'm not criticizing your customs, it's just—it's just—we need to plan for the long term.

Both times the Mataram men besieged us, it lasted nearly half a year. The further along it goes, the more scarce our fresh water becomes. Yes, yes." Just as he finished speaking, Lin Qian's voice came from the alley.

"No need to conserve fresh water."

"Your Majesty." Seeing Lin Qian arrive, Ge Hong and the others clasped their hands together in salute.

Lin Qian said, "Their army probably can't hold out past the end of this month."

Calculating the time, Bailangzai's South Sea Fleet should have already bombarded the three Mataram ports into rubble—it was just that the rainforest made travel difficult, and word hadn't arrived yet. "As long as the Mataram men show any sign of withdrawing, we'll sally out of the city immediately and counterattack."

"Yes!" Li Yu stepped forward and clasped his hands. He looked at the buffalo carcass on the ground, fury burning in his heart.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen