Chapter 203: Seeds of Suspicion

Though deep winter had arrived, the Fergana Basin in November was not too cold.

Basin climates are like that — they can get quite hot, but never too cold, because the surrounding high mountains block most of the cold air.

And so this war, with each side harboring its own schemes, remained a standoff. Zhang Zhao had already taken every fort and stockade around Kesh, turning the former capital of the Farghana kingdom into an isolated city, but that was as far as he had gotten.

Because the garrison of Kesh also numbered more than twenty thousand, and the two sides' forces were not far apart. Zhang Zhao could besiege Kesh only by relying on his highly mobile cavalry; attacking the city itself still did not seem realistic for now.

For even if his soldiers' fighting strength far exceeded that of the Kesh garrison, which had suffered a great purge, the enemy's solid fortifications could completely erase those advantages.

So if Zhang Zhao truly wanted to take Kesh, there were only two ways: first, use the surrendered Northern Mountain tribes as cannon fodder and storm the city regardless of casualties; second, use gunpowder to blast it open.

"Great King, breaching the walls with explosives is not difficult. Kesh lies beside the Yaxartes River, and the basin has rain and mist year-round, so the foundations should not be very solid — at least far easier to blast open than the walls of Shule."

Cao Yanming said softly, then glanced at Shi Chongmin, the squad general of the Gold-Splitting Unit, beside him.

Shi Chongmin cleared his throat lightly. "But in this kind of environment, digging a tunnel becomes difficult. The soil is soft, so we will need a great deal of roof timbers and shoring boards, and we must also guard against striking groundwater.

To dig such a tunnel without attracting the city's attention would take no less than three months."

Three months. Zhang Zhao calculated inwardly. Three months was probably Shi Chongmin putting it in the best light.

And even if the tunnel were finished in three months, if the Persians still held their forces back, he would not dare launch a full assault on the city.

A distance of a hundred li — as long as there were enough horses, they could arrive within three days, and then striking him from front and rear would be a troublesome affair.

"Start digging first. The pace can be relaxed a little. Fourteen, you also prepare the gunpowder, and pay special attention to keeping it dry."

Still, Zhang Zhao decided to dig the tunnel. Though it might not prove useful, since they were idle anyway, he might as well let the Gold-Splitting Unit practice excavating in soft-soil conditions.

"It really is the Juer Khan of Suyab! It really is! The one who defeated Bughra Khan Satuq of the Karakhanids is also him! And he is of the royal clan of the Khotan Golden Kingdom! Father, this man is not to be trifled with!"

Sparse snowflakes drifted down over the encampment of the Samanid Persian army. Alpt, son of Adural, threw open the felt curtain of the command tent and burst in, his hands red from the cold as he shouted loudly.

"Those prisoners are almost all men of the Basmyl tribe. They say the commander of the Khotan army across from us is the Juer Khan of Suyab!"

In truth, for people of this age who received information very passively, Zhang Zhao's identity was far more terrifying than what he himself saw.

Even the Basmyl elite cavalry Zhang Zhao had taken in only knew that this Great King Zhang was of the Khotan royal clan, was the Juer Khan of the Suyab people, and had repeatedly defeated Bughra Khan Satuq of the Karakhanids while outnumbered.

Such a man, such great deeds one after another — no matter how one looked at it, only a mighty steppe khan of towering renown could match them!

They could never have imagined that the true foundation of Juer Khan Great King Zhang was in fact no more than two or three thousand armored soldiers and some ten thousand tribal subjects.

"Is this credible?" Adural's expression immediately turned grave. He had not expected that the worst outcome would be guessed correctly by him in advance — this Great King of Khotan really was the Juer Khan of Suyab.

"Credible. I personally interrogated eleven men, and the information I got was all much the same. Moreover, they said that the queen and children of Bughra Khan Satuq have all become that Juer Khan's spoils of war." Alpt said with certainty.

Bughra Khan Satuq's queen was said to have originally been of the Eastern Cao royal house. Five years earlier, when the Karakhanids attacked Farghana, they had twice used the queen's identity to win over the Sogdians of Khujand.

At that time Adural was serving as an officer in Sutrishana, where the Eastern Cao were based, so father and son were fairly clear on this matter.

Adural pondered for a moment. "This news must be reported to Prince Hamid at once.

I suspect the tens of thousands of Khotan troops here are merely the vanguard. The main force will surely not come until after next year's sowing is done. This is a powerful enemy that our Khujand province cannot handle alone — we must bring up reinforcements from Bukhara."

Zhang Zhao could never have imagined that the matter of him taking the lovely Karakhanid queen Cao Yanmian into his harem would be so over-interpreted in other people's minds.

He had only wanted to lure the Samanid Persian garrison at Khujand out, so that after finishing Kesh he would not have to gnaw on Khujand as well.

Yet in the end, it had frightened the Hakim of Khujand into going to Bukhara to fetch reinforcements.

He never stopped to think that before Zhang Zhao had stabbed it in the kidneys twice in a row, the Karakhanid state had been a great khanate of six or seven hundred thousand subjects.

One who could beat such a great khan so badly that he could not protect his own wife and children must at least be a great khan with a hundred thousand bowstrings at his command, no?

In the dull winter, people who could not go out at any time to work and trade always needed to find something to occupy themselves in the tedium of life.

Sometimes it was village-level gossip about this family and that; sometimes it was aristocratic secrets from the great cities of Samarkand and Bukhara.

Of course, the most widely spread was the news that Emir Nasr II had converted to the Shia sect, which plunged nearly everyone into a fury of betrayal.

Persians and Arabs — these were a pair of old foes tangled together without end. Though many people assumed they were much the same, in fact the two peoples were very different.

The Persians are Aryans of the Indo-European language family.

The Arabs are a mixed people of European Mediterranean stock and various North African races.

Historically, the Persians built many powerful empires and long ruled over the Arabs.

For in the eyes of many Persians, the Arabs were merely a somewhat stronger junior partner in their known world — much like how the ancient Chinese viewed ancient Japan.

So although the Arabs had amassed great wealth as middlemen on the Silk Road, and after Mahmud had concocted the Heavenly-Fang faith and in turn conquered them, the Persians had never truly submitted in their hearts.

Even today, when most people had converted from Zoroastrianism to the Heavenly-Fang faith, the Persians still kept their pride deep within.

That was why the Shia sect flourished in Persia, and why the Samanid dynasty had replaced the Abbasid caliphs in ruling Persia — because the Samanid royal house traced its origins to Sassanid Persia, and to the Persians, they were their own people.

All of this was really the Persian national pride at work; they wanted to show that they were different from the Arabs.

But Nasr II had not seen through this — or rather, he had seen it, but had long been numbed by the flattery around him, believing that even if he converted it would not matter much, and that no one would dare rise against him.

But was that the real situation? Fifteen days after announcing his conversion, Nasr II sensed something unusual.

The residence of his second son, Crown Prince Hamid, who had never stated whether he would convert to the Shia sect, suddenly became thronged with visitors.

In Bukhara, within the Ark Citadel, the royal palace of the Samanid dynasty, Nasr II sat wrapped in a warm woolen blanket, his expression shifting between light and shadow.

He was sixty-three years old this year, but apart from being somewhat stout, his body had no problems at all.

"Emir, here is the ledger of birthday tribute sent by the governors and hakims of the provinces. Prince Sadid has even specially sent from Herat a handwritten ancient Quran, on the finest paper from Taohuashi, pure white as the finest jade."

In a few days it would be Nasr II's sixty-fourth birthday. By custom, all the nobles of Bukhara and the governors and hakims of every region were required to present birthday tribute to Nasr II.

Ahmad, the palace chamberlain in charge of the affair, carefully handed the tribute ledger and the ancient Quran to Nasr II.

Nasr II took the ledger and leafed through it briefly, while Ahmad lowered his head somewhat guiltily.

The first name Nasr II turned to was that of his second son, Prince Salar Hamid.

Nasr II nodded with satisfaction. Hamid's tribute had increased considerably from last year — by at least thirty percent.

The second name was that of his sixth son, Prince Sadid. Nasr II was even more satisfied: it had increased by fully fifty percent over last year, and he had thoughtfully handwritten a copy of an ancient Quran.

Although he somewhat disapproved of Sadid's constant coveting of the crown prince's position, seeing his son so filial still warmed Nasr II's heart.

However, as he continued turning the pages, Nasr II's face grew increasingly grim, for apart from his sons and the Grand Vizier Balami, everyone else's tribute had decreased compared to last year.

Nasr II did not allow a reduction because the amounts rose year after year, and the people below would eventually reach their breaking point.

But what the hell do you mean by cutting it by thirty or forty percent all at once? You want to skimp on even this much money?

"Noble Emir, Your Highness, this year's weather has been even colder, the wheat harvests everywhere have failed, and the people below are having a hard time of it."

Ahmad replied cautiously, appearing to explain, but in reality he was stoking the fire.

Because a few months ago, Prince Hamid had just passed his forty-first birthday, and at that time the nobles and regional dignitaries had likewise presented congratulatory gifts — not only had they not decreased, they had generally increased by quite a bit.

A surge of anger shot from Nasr II's heart straight to the top of his head. What was the meaning of this? They think this Emir is old and decrepit, so they're in a hurry to curry favor with the crown prince, is that it?

Yet even in his fury, Nasr II quickly calmed down, and then he found several names he knew very well — these men were allies and trusted confidants of the palace chamberlain Ahmad.

A full reduction of more than thirty percent — every one of these names had reduced their congratulatory gifts, and they were the ones who had reduced them the most.

Nasr II drew a deep breath. It seemed this was not Ahmad deliberately using the matter to strike at political enemies, and he also believed Ahmad did not have the nerve to tamper with the gifts presented to him.

"Hmm? The Hakim of Khujand, Abdullah, actually offered only twenty sheep and one camel as tribute?"

Nasr II suddenly spotted the most conspicuous name, and could not even help reading it aloud.

Because this was not a reduction of thirty or forty percent — this was a damn reduction of eighty percent, not even thirty percent of the congratulatory gifts given to Prince Hamid.

"In reply to the Emir, Your Highness, it is indeed so. Your servant also questioned the envoy of Hakim Abdullah, and he said that a drastic change has occurred in the land of Fergana. An army of twenty thousand has come from the east and is attacking Yusuf in Kasan, and the vast majority of supplies in the city of Khujand have been drawn away for war preparations and relief!" Ahmad hurriedly explained.

"Traitor! Treacherous wretch!" Nasr II rose to his feet in towering rage, because only the day before yesterday he had secretly received an envoy from the city of Kasan.

The Fergana governor of the former Kara-Khanid realm had sent his younger brother to lodge a complaint. Kasan was in dire emergency, but the Hakim of Khujand cowered and would not advance, refusing to go to the rescue.

"Have Balami dispatch a diwan to Khujand, to see what exactly has happened."

Nasr II suddenly became soft-spoken, as though the outburst just now had never occurred, but the palace chamberlain knew this was the sign that the Emir was enraged to the extreme.

"Do not alert the provinces. Go secretly. Do not have the Ghulam guards escort them — select directly from the royal capital's palace guard!"

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