Chapter 404: Why Not Swear to Be Brothers

Hoofbeats clattered as a general in gold-threaded iron lamellar armor and a bright silver suanni helmet galloped out from the Khitan ranks.

He held a cavalry lance and pointed it in fury at the high platform where Zhang Zhao stood, because Zhang Zhao had just insulted Yelu Deguang.

"Barbarous bandit, you dare insult the Son of Heaven of our great Khitan! Come down at once and meet your death!"

The attendant beside Yelu Deguang glanced at the mighty Khitan warrior by the riverbank, then turned back and looked toward Zhang Zhao's side with evident pride.

"This is the Shouchang Imperial Younger Brother of our great Khitan nation. In all your days in Hexi, have you ever seen such a warrior?"

Although Yelu Lihu had ridden out, the target of his challenge was not Zhang Zhao, but the several hundred cavalry of the Guiyi Army opposite.

For Zhang Zhao could not go down to fight him; only among those several hundred cavalry would there be one man of matching status to ride out.

There was a protocol to this. Yelu Lihu was the Khitan Imperial Younger Brother, so Zhang Zhao's side could not simply send anyone — guards like Man Xiong or Dunzhu would not do, for that would not be a match of equals.

When the attendant beside Yelu Deguang announced who he was, it was half out of pride and half to make the man's status known.

On Zhang Zhao's side, then, only one choice remained who could take the field.

No sooner had Yelu Lihu's words faded than a young officer in blue cloth-faced iron armor and a double-layered fine steel helmet with gray-white he feathers rode out.

The young officer also carried a cavalry lance and cut a most imposing figure — none other than Great King Zhang's adopted son, Li Cunhui.

"A rotten Xi from beyond the frontier, running his mouth without restraint — do you know a true hero of the Han?"

At this, the Basmil attendant beside Zhang Zhao also grew smug.

"This is the Great King's adopted son, of the Great Tang imperial clan, Li Cunhui of the Longxi Li line. Do you know the nobility of the Great Dynasty's blood?"

Well then — before the fighting had even begun, Yelu Lihu and Li Cunhui were already trading "barbarous bandit" and "rotten Xi."

The two attendants above, one boasting of martial might, the other sneering that the other side were low-born barbarians.

What had been only a spark of temper was at once fanned into a roaring blaze.

When Zhang Zhao heard the words "barbarous bandit," a nameless fury rose in him — the word Tibetans seemed practically bound to him.

The evil fire in Yelu Deguang's heart also burned hot. The Khitan and the Xi were not the same, but outsiders made no such distinction, insulting them all alike as "rotten Xi."

To Yelu Deguang, this was the last word he ever wished to hear spoken.

While they spoke above, the fight below had already begun. Yelu Lihu was the most formidable fighter among all the sons of Yelu Abaoji.

Though hot-tempered and cruel by nature, he possessed tremendous strength and had trained in spear, staff, and horsemanship since childhood — he was no easy opponent.

Li Cunhui was no less his match. Their Shazhou Li family was a branch of the Longxi Li line, and for centuries his ancestors had made their living by martial skill.

In the days when Zhang Yichao raised his troops, Li Cunhui's great-grandfather Li Mingzhen and his brothers had been great generals of the Guiyi Army.

This, however, was no fight to the death, so the two only spurred their warhorses to a charge when they had closed to about thirty paces.

In an instant, the two warhorses crossed, and Li Cunhui drove his lance straight into Yelu Lihu's chest.

Yelu Lihu let out a scream. Even in heavy armor, a lance thrust full to the chest was no light blow — his ribs might well be damaged.

Yet even as his vision went black, Yelu Lihu swung his own lance at Li Cunhui with all his might.

To seize the chance of unhorsing Yelu Lihu, Li Cunhui could only duck slightly and take the blow full on the shoulder guard of his armor.

Yelu Lihu's strength was immense, and Li Cunhui felt a sharp pain shoot through his shoulder — he too was likely wounded.

But he knew this was a critical moment, so he gritted through the agony, raised his cavalry lance, and let out a long, triumphant cry.

"Send the Imperial Younger Brother back for treatment at once!"

These words were not spoken by Yelu Deguang, but by Zhang Zhao — for at this moment, only Zhang Zhao had the authority to dispose of the defeated Yelu Lihu.

Yelu Deguang also watched the riverbank nervously, and only when Yelu Lihu was helped up and slowly walking back did he feel somewhat at ease.

Yet his heart was thoroughly displeased. Having lost this bout, he could only let Zhang Zhao's earlier insult about his stepfather entering the household by the wall go unanswered.

Such was the spirit of the age. The Khitan still kept many of the steppe custom that the strong are honored — the victor holds all, and the vanquished has nothing to say.

The scene that followed was somewhat awkward. Though Yelu Deguang put on an air of indifference, the oppressive atmosphere did not lift in the slightest.

Zhang Zhao, for his part, did not mind. He again signaled the attendant beside him to offer wine to Yelu Deguang, and this time the attendant beside Yelu Deguang did not block it.

The Hexi attendant bent down and, from the wine flask Yelu Deguang had brought himself, poured a bowl of fine wine for Yelu Deguang.

"The Lord of Hexi offers wine to His Majesty the Emperor of the Great Khitan!"

Yelu Deguang raised the bowl and looked at the attendant beside him. The Khitan attendant also came over and, lifting the wine jug Zhang Zhao had brought, filled a bowl for Zhang Zhao.

"His Majesty the Emperor of the Great Khitan bids Great King Zhang of Hexi drink this bowl dry!"

With that one lance thrust, Li Cunhui had won Zhang Zhao the title "Great King" spoken face to face by Yelu Deguang.

The two drank a bowl of wine each, and Zhang Zhao then passed the bowl of green, purple, and red raisins before him to the Khitan attendant beside him.

"Hexi is bitter and cold and produces little, save some grapes. These raisins are made only after three dryings and three gatherings. May Your Majesty taste them!"

The Khitan attendant carried the raisins over, and Zhang Zhao's Basmil attendant also came over bearing a plate of sliced snow pears.

By what method had these Khitan managed to keep snow pears fresh until now?

"A few white pears from Liaoxi, of passable flavor. May the King taste them."

Yelu Deguang picked up a raisin, and Zhang Zhao picked up a slice of snow pear, both pretending to be perfectly at ease.

The two old foxes exchanged a glance and, almost at the same moment, put the raisin and the pear slice into their mouths.

Had anything been even slightly wrong, they would likely have spat it out at once, then summoned their men to kill the other.

A meeting of this sort was a torment to everyone involved.

So Zhang Zhao decided to improve relations between the two sides — and, of course, to needle Shi Jingtang, to see if there was any chance of angering that puppet emperor to an early death and being done with it.

"This land was originally where Emperor Wu, the Martial Emperor of the Former Tang, rose to power. His Majesty's father, the Ascended-to-Heaven Emperor, once swore an oath here with Emperor Wu, pledging to be as brothers — truly a fine tale."

The Martial Emperor of the Former Tang referred to Li Keyong, the Prince of Jin, who was posthumously honored as emperor, while the Ascended-to-Heaven Emperor, that strange-sounding title, referred to Yelu Abaoji.

Those two had once joined hands in oath, pledging to be as brothers and vowing to revive the Great Tang and together punish the Zhu Liang. In the end, Yelu Abaoji stood them up and broke his word, and Li Keyong bitterly resented it.

Of course, Yelu Deguang would not allow anyone to say his father had broken faith. Instead, he made much of the brotherhood oath between Yelu Abaoji and Li Keyong, using it to win the hearts of the northern heroes and to prove that the Khitan were no barbarians.

Hearing Zhang Zhao speak thus, Yelu Deguang looked at him with keen interest.

"In years past, my father the Ascended-to-Heaven Emperor unified all the Khitan tribes at the height of his power, and Emperor Wu was a hero of the realm. The two swore brotherhood, and it was naturally a fine tale."

Yelu Deguang's implication was plain enough: Yelu Abaoji and Li Keyong were both heroes of their age, so of course they could swear brotherhood and bind themselves by oath.

But what is your standing, Zhang Zhao, that you could swear brotherhood with me, the Sage, Civil, and Martial Emperor of the Great Khitan?

Zhang Zhao smiled faintly. "Hexi is barren, and true heroes are indeed hard to come by there. Yet the farther west one goes, the more states there are, rich in land but weak in arms — several dozen of them. I have been giving the matter some thought.

Should I take Hexi's elite troops and march west to unify all those states, recovering in full the old Great Tang military provinces of Anxi, Beiting, Hezhong, and Persia, and become Great Lord over all the kingdoms west of the passes?

Or should I raise my host and turn east, chastise the disloyal, bring peace to the common people, and await a true lord of the Central Plains?"

He is trying to fool me!

He is definitely trying to fool me!

He wants me to believe he will throw his forces to the west.

Yelu Deguang was screaming inwardly, but even though he saw through it all clearly, he had to admit —

given the Guiyi Army's strength, if Zhang Zhao were willing to turn west, that would indeed be a good thing for the Khitan.

Aiya! Still can't tempt him. Zhang Zhao steadied himself and went on working his art of persuasion.

"West of Shazhou there is a state called the Great Uyghur Khaganate. We Han folk of the Guiyi Army call them the Gaochang Uyghurs. Their ancestors were rebel generals under my great-grandfather the Grand Guardian.

They turned against their lord and set themselves up as rulers, stealing the Great Dynasty's land. I have long intended to chastise them.

Farther west still is a state called the Karakhanid Khaganate. Its ruler, Satuq, was defeated by me at the city of Shule, and he has been scheming to return ever since — no small threat either."

From what he had learned over the past few days, Yelu Deguang had also gotten some sense of the lands west of Anxi from Cao Yanjing, and he knew Zhang Zhao was not lying.

Yelu Deguang calculated to himself: with the strength of the Hexi Guiyi Army, defeating or even recovering the Gaochang Uyghurs and the Karakhanid Khaganate could not be accomplished in less than five to eight years.

The distance alone told the story — it was a span of four to five thousand li from east to west.

At that thought, Yelu Deguang truly could not stay calm. He was already thirty-eight years old, and by the lifespan of men in this age, that left him ten to fifteen good years at most. The time remaining to him was not much.

"Why does the King of Han tell me all this? Could it be that you want the Great Khitan to lend you some troops?" Yelu Deguang began probing Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Zhao gave a long sigh. "My family has dwelt in Hexi for generations. For five generations my forebears fought to resist the Tibetans and lead their people back to the motherland.

Alas, the Great Dynasty is no more. Though we have now returned to the fold, the Central Plains are in decline, so we can only unite the various peoples and restore production.

Our original intent was to await the right moment. But the Lord of Jin is no true lord! How can a man so shameless as to kneel and grovel be worthy to be supreme ruler of all under Heaven?

Who knows when a lord of the realm like Emperor Taizong the Civil and Martial will appear again!"

The expression on Yelu Deguang's face was a sight to behold. On one hand, he thought Zhang Zhao's words had some credibility; on the other, he himself was the very person before whom the Lord of Jin had knelt and groveled.

And on yet another hand, he quite agreed with Zhang Zhao — how could a man like Shi Jingtang be supreme ruler of all under Heaven?

Rationally, Yelu Deguang knew Zhang Zhao was very likely trying to fool him, but in his mind, he kept returning to the calculations he himself had run through countless times.

In the Central Plains today, those wanting to cling to his coattails were beyond number, and of course those who opposed him were not few either. But Yelu Deguang did not care — how could a man who would achieve great things have no one opposing him?

He, Yelu Deguang, was Emperor of the Great Khitan. He already held the strategic strongholds of Yan-Yun. In five years he could build up strength and unite the Hu and Han peoples; then he would employ Han officials, adopt the institutions of the Han lands, learn the Han tongue, study Han culture, and make the Khitan nobility into a military-aristocracy bloc like the Longxi or Daibei martial houses.

Then, like Gaozu Li Yuan of the former Tang, or Li Yazi of the Later Tang's ancestral temple, he would sweep from north to south and unify all under Heaven.

The Lord of Jin had lost all virtue, far surpassing the depravity of the old Yang Sui and Zhu Liang. It was not impossible that he, Yelu Deguang, might succeed.

Watching the shifting emotions on Yelu Deguang's face, Zhang Zhao struck while the iron was hot and pressed in directly.

"The moment I saw Your Majesty, I knew you were a heaven-sent lord of surpassing brilliance. You and I dwell at opposite ends of east and west; that we should chance to meet at all — perhaps it was the Buddha's doing.

If we could swear brotherhood and each hold one corner of the land, it would truly be a grand occasion, and would leave blessings for our descendants to come."

Yelu Deguang was somewhat moved as well. He would placate Zhang Zhao for now, and once he entered the Central Plains, he could think of a way to deal with him.

Moreover, he now faced the same difficulty as Zhang Zhao. The Khitan host had been besieging Yunzhou for nearly nine months; the troops were weary and the horses spent, with no strength left for another great battle. They still had to devote effort to taking Yunzhou, and if this dragged on any longer, he would become the laughingstock of the realm.

"The King of Han is, after all, a subject of the Lord of Jin, and I am the Lord of Jin's father. Would that not be improper?" Yelu Deguang said, hypocritically feigning concern for Shi Jingtang.

"There is nothing improper about it!" Zhang Zhao answered decisively. "My son, Xinzhang, has married Princess Yongle, the fifteenth daughter of the Ming Temple, who is full sister to Empress Li.

In years past, the Ascended-to-Heaven Emperor and Emperor Wu swore brotherhood. Your Majesty and I — we are brothers as well!"

Hmm! The logic held. Li Keyong and Yelu Abaoji were brothers, so Yelu Deguang and Li Keyong's adopted son, Mingzong Li Siyuan, were brothers too.

Zhang Zhao's son had married Li Siyuan's daughter, making Zhang Zhao and Li Siyuan in-laws by marriage, while Shi Jingtang was Li Siyuan's son-in-law.

Reckoned this way, Zhang Zhao really was of the same generation as Yelu Deguang, and Shi Jingtang ought to call Great King Zhang his uncle.

Yelu Deguang's heart stirred. It was by this very logic that Shi Jingtang had acknowledged him as father, so it was not all that absurd. What was absurd was ceding the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun.

But then again — if this young fellow Zhang Zhao, barely in his twenties, swore brotherhood with him, he would instantly become Shi Jingtang's uncle.

Shi Jingtang had already sold out his country and acknowledged a father, making himself the laughingstock of the realm. Now if a subject of his became his uncle through this sort of maneuvering, would it not drive Shi Jingtang into a fit?

He, Yelu Deguang, being Shi Jingtang's uncle, was in fact constrained in many ways — it practically limited Yelu Deguang's ability to launch a full-scale invasion of the Central Plains.

If Shi Jingtang could be angered to death, would Shi Chonggui, Jing Yanguang, and the rest still be willing to serve him as a grandson serves his grandfather?

And if they refused, would he not then have his pretext for marching south?

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