Chapter 903: Don't Shoot — I'm Here to Welcome the Royal Army! (Please Subscribe)

At the turn of spring and summer, the Bashang Grassland north of the Great Wall is at its finest season of the year — the grass is lush and rich, the climate comfortable, and even the sky is especially bright and far-reaching at this time of year. Scattered across the green prairie are a few yurts, and herds of cattle and sheep, driven by Mongol herders, flow across the grassland as vast as the sea. The whole scene is a tranquil, peaceful picture of fine grassland scenery.

On the main road along the northern slope of the Yan Mountains leading to Zhangjiakou Fort on the Great Wall, a convoy of men and wagons flying the banner of the sun and moon together was passing by. It appeared to be a supply convoy, with mule- and horse-drawn carts piled high and tightly bound with goods. A closer look showed that much of the cargo consisted of ironware, cloth, and salt — all much loved by the grassland herders. Every cart had a small red triangular flag stuck on it, each bearing the two characters "Great Ming." On every cart, besides the driver, sat a flintlock musketeer in iron helmet and breastplate, cradling a Hongxing Year 7 musket and warily scanning his surroundings. In front, behind, and on both flanks of the convoy were escorting "black-gun" mule cavalry — one man, one horse, one mule, forty men to a company, half equipped with "black guns," half horse archers and lancers. These "black-gun soldiers" might not necessarily prevail against the Manchu elite, but against the Mongols of the grasslands, they were a force that swept all before them like dry weeds and rotten wood!

In the middle of the great convoy were a hundred and twenty riders, all wearing black plate armor, long guns slung over their shoulders, mounted on tall mules and leading fine horses with folded ears, clustered around a youth likewise clad in plate armor and wearing a helmet. Beneath this youth was not a mule but an especially spirited and handsome Arabian steed. Behind the youth rode two tall knights, both mounted on Mongol horses, each holding a flagpole in one hand. On the two flagpoles were respectively a dragon banner and a personal recognition banner. On the recognition banner were four large characters: Prince of Chongqing.

It turned out the youth on the Arabian steed was Zhu Cilang's fifth brother, the Prince of Chongqing, Zhu Cihuan. He had just turned sixteen this year. He had already finished elementary school but had not passed the exam for middle school, so he had no choice but to go home and be his princely self. By rights he should have idled away his whole life, but Zhu Cilang had gone and assigned him to be "filial piety proxy" — Zhu Cilang was filial! Going north on campaign together with the Chongzhen Retired Emperor, wasn't he supposed to wait on him hand and foot? But he was busy with a myriad affairs of state and had no time to perform his filial duties. So someone had to be found to do it by proxy.

And although Emperor Zhu had quite a few brothers, most were very young. The older ones, Zhu Cijiong and Zhu Cizhao, were both away commanding troops. Only Zhu Cihuan was the most useless — he had even failed his "elementary-to-middle-school" exam and could only sit unemployed at home as a prince, so the job of proxy filial son fell onto his shoulders.

Actually, performing filial piety on the Emperor's behalf was a good assignment. Although the Chongzhen Retired Emperor was stingy, the Retired Empress Zhou had grand airs. Seeing Zhu Cihuan so miserable, without a job, just a pitiful unemployed Commandery Prince, she would always bestow rewards of tens of thousands of taels of silver — everyone knew the Retired Empress Zhou had money. The Chongzhen Retired Emperor had a whole brood of wives and children, and before those children came of age, they all depended on Chongzhen's one million taels of "gold-flower silver" to live off their elders, so his days were tight and pinched. But the Retired Empress Zhou had a separate income: Zhu Cilang paid her dividends from the Royal Trading Company, giving her three hundred thousand taels a year in pocket money!

So at first Zhu Cihuan was quite happy, cheerfully setting off with the party, and along the way he coaxed the Retired Empress Zhou into very good spirits, and indeed received quite a few rewards. But he never imagined that his imperial elder brother had no intention of letting him "mooch off his elders" so easily — he had actually arranged work for him!

He was to risk his life passing through the desolate "Beijing Grassland," cross the Yan Mountains, exit the pass at Gubeikou, and then travel through the Bashang Grassland controlled by the Chahar tribe to Zhangjiakou, to deliver rewards to the Prince of Dai, Zhu Cijiong — several hundred carts of silk, ironware, salt, and gleaming yellow copper cash!

This was a deadly assignment!

How many bandits would he run into along the way?

And his imperial elder brother hadn't given Zhu Cihuan much of an escort either — just one regiment of black-gun soldiers and one company of Xiaoling Guard lancers. With only that much force, he actually dared to swagger through Chahar Mongol territory. This was borrowing a knife to kill his brother!

But Zhu Cihuan didn't dare disobey his brother's decree. He was under suspicion of rebellion, and his conscience was very uneasy.

So he had no choice but to steel himself and set out!

And in the first half of Zhu Cihuan's journey north, it was unexpectedly smooth sailing — he didn't encounter a single bandit. But after crossing the Yan Mountains and exiting Gubeikou, things changed. Small bands of Mongol cavalry appeared one after another, hovering near the convoy. The lead guard in command of the escort, Hei Wentao, had several times wanted to send out lancers to drive them off, but each time he was stopped by Zhu Cihuan, who didn't want to stir up trouble.

But just because he didn't want trouble didn't mean the Chahar Mongols weren't looking to make trouble for him!

Just as Zhu Cihuan's party approached the ruins of the old Yuan Upper Capital, group after group, countless Mongol cavalry appeared all around Zhu Cihuan and his men!

These Mongol cavalry were arrayed in the old-style steppe cavalry formation — group after group spread very wide, not too close to the Ming convoy, yet completely sealing off all paths in front, behind, left, and right of the convoy. At a glance, it was clearly the work of experts.

Hei Wentao came from the Guanning Army. He had made his living on horseback since his teens, and after following Zhu Cilang he had always served in the cavalry. He had also studied European cavalry shock tactics under Prince Condé — actually there was nothing much to it: just flanking charges, no melee and no archery, charge and then run, bullying people with superior horseflesh. It couldn't be done with the short, fat horses sent by Wu Sangui and Zhu Cijiong; you had to charge with folded-ear horses and Arabian horses, and you also needed relatively light plate armor.

So when Hei Wentao encountered small bands of Mongol cavalry, he didn't pay them much mind, and even wanted to send out his own lancers to earn a bit of military merit.

But now, seeing countless Mongol cavalry, his scalp tingled a bit too. They could run if they had to, but he was also escorting goods worth several hundred thousand taels of silver. If they were lost, that would be a disaster!

"G-General Hei," Zhu Cihuan's voice was trembling, "Tartars, so many Tartars! What do we do?"

Hei Wentao glanced at this cowardly prince and laughed. "Your Highness, don't be afraid, there's no need to be afraid. These are Mongols, not very formidable."

Zhu Cihuan immediately asked, "Then, then can we still get away now?"

"Run?" Hei Wentao smiled and shook his head. "We can't run. There's definitely no running."

Can't run? Zhu Cihuan was so frightened that tears came down! All sons of the Retired Emperor, so why was his own fate so bitter? The eldest was the Emperor, the third was a Prince and Grand Protector-General, the fourth was a Commandery Prince and Military Commissioner, and the sixth had long since been designated to inherit the title of Prince of Fu, and moreover, because of Wu Sanmei's intercession, would be exempted from demotion and continue as a Prince (not an iron-cap Prince, but merely exempted from one demotion). And he was also good at his studies, having already passed the exam for Laoshan Middle School, with a brilliant future ahead of him. And as for himself, why was his fate to be an endless prisoner? He had spent so many years among the roving bandits, and now it looked like he was about to fall into Mongol hands again. His fate was truly bitter!

"Your Highness, do not panic," Hei Wentao said with a smile. "Let us first form a wagon fort. We have flintlocks and lancers. Relying on the wagon fort, we can hold off tens of thousands of Mongol cavalry!"

"Tens of thousands?" Zhu Cihuan didn't believe it, but there was nothing he could do. Now they couldn't run, and he didn't want to surrender with hands bound, so he could only struggle a bit.

Hei Wentao did not continue to seek Zhu Cihuan's orders. With a great wave of his hand, he issued the command to form the wagon fort. The drivers under his command were all supply troops, and well-trained at that, so they quickly formed a circular formation. The musketeers and archers among the black-gun soldiers all moved inside the circle, dismounted from their mules, and leaned against the wagons, ready to fire. The lancers of the black-gun regiment and that company of lancers riding foreign horses formed up outside the wagon fort, preparing to launch a charge.

Just as they finished their preparations, the Mongols surrounding them did not launch an attack, but instead sent out several envoys.

At their head was a sturdy Mongol man in his twenties, dressed in a fine silk robe, riding toward the wagon fort. As he advanced, he shouted in Chinese: "Don't shoot! I am Chahar Guhalun, grandson of Ligdan Khan. By the order of the Great Consort Nangnang, I have come to welcome the royal army! We Chahar Mongols have long awaited the royal army's arrival!"

(End of Chapter)