Chapter 47: Zhang Erlang and His One Hundred and Eight Warriors

In Qi Xiahu's mountain stronghold, beside the very stream where Zhang Zhao had once fought a hundred men alone and cut down Geduo and the others, a great bonfire blazed. Pigs, cattle, and sheep were brought in as if they cost nothing, and the famous cooks hired from Dunhuang's Tianfu Tower were drenched in sweat from the labor.

The hundred or so women and children of Qi Xiahu's stronghold, and the two hundred and more people brought over from Geduo's stronghold, were all here.

Qi Xiahu, his face glowing, bustled about making arrangements. He had obtained a pardon from the Guiyi Army military governor's office. From now on, though he would still remain in this stronghold, Shouchang would no longer cut off their supply of salt, cloth, and the like, and the stronghold's produce could be openly sent to Shouchang to be sold. Life could go on.

Moreover, with the two hundred and more people from Geduo's stronghold added in, the population of his stronghold had reached over four hundred and fifty. The troublemakers who had come from Geduo's side would be taken by Zhang Zhao to Khotan, and those left behind would be relatively easy to manage.

At the same time, among the Han folk fighting men by his own side, only Fan Quan and Fan Shun would go with Zhang Zhao. Qi Xiahu understood what Zhang Zhao meant: he wanted him to assimilate as quickly as possible these people who had come down from the Qilian Mountains.

With these people, even in Shouchang, this would count as a large stronghold.

Beside the bonfire, on a platform built of wooden planks and stones, Zhang Zhao stood stripped to the waist, a short knife in his hand.

Although Dunhuang in the tenth month was already bitterly cold, Zhang Zhao did not feel the chill at all. The surging tide in his heart roasted his whole body warm.

A rooster with brilliant, multicolored feathers was brought up by Zhang Zhong. Zhang Zhao twisted the rooster's head around to bare its neck, then in a few quick motions plucked away the down at the throat. With one stroke of the short knife, the chicken blood gushed into a large earthenware wine bowl that had been prepared.

As the chicken blood spurted, Fan Quan and Fan Shun came over holding a stack of yellow paper and a lump of cinnabar. Zhang Zhao first put the cinnabar into the bowl of chicken-blood wine and stirred it evenly, then lit the yellow paper. Only after watching the ashes all fall into the bowl did he raise the bowl of chicken-blood wine high.

As Zhang Zhao raised the wine bowl, the one hundred and seven fierce men surrounding the wooden platform almost simultaneously dropped to one knee, because they all knew that on the yellow paper that had just burned were written Zhang Zhao's birth date, birth hour, and his oath.

"Brothers! Since the An-Shi Rebellion, the realm has fallen into chaos. The state is no longer a state, the people have no means of livelihood, and nowhere is this worse than in Hexi!

The Tibetan btsan-po, his ministers, and the stong-sde regarded us as slaves no better than pigs and dogs. That is why my great-grandfather, the Grand Guardian, was the first to raise the banner of righteousness, to rescue the common people from misery and seek to return to the Great Tang!

But now the Great Tang is gone, and the realm is in even greater chaos. We who should have been heroes defending home and country have no way to serve, and can only scrape by doing shameful, filthy deeds.

But how can a true man live his whole life in such petty, groveling fashion? Chasing the fleeing, pursuing the defeated, corpses by the million, blood enough to float shields — that is what a real man ought to do!

West of Shazhou, north of Khotan, the Karakhanid Satuq Bughra has betrayed the Buddha and betrayed his ancestors. He persecutes the followers of the Buddha and the Great Compassionate Father, and grovels before the Black-Robed Samanid state. Both gods and men are enraged! I hate him to the core!

Fortunately, I have now received the summons of my uncle, the Great Sage and Great Enlightened Son of Heaven of the Golden Kingdom of Khotan. I am willing to lead brave warriors to punish the Karluks, the Tiele, the Oghuz, and the other tribes.

Defeat them, drive them off, seize all they have, watch those dearest to them wash their faces in tears, ride their horses, and take their beautiful wives and daughters!

Do you dare follow?"

What do men love most? Or to be precise, what did men of this age love most? Stirring up trouble, without a doubt!

In the late Tang and Five Dynasties, military men causing trouble and making a scene was the norm. Temujin's saying perfectly captured the greatest aspiration of the men who held military power in this age.

The atmosphere below the platform was thoroughly roused. Among those Zhang Zhao had selected, there was not a single law-abiding, contented soul.

In Shazhou, all they could do was extort the herders on the Qilian Mountains. Anyone who could waylay and kill some small traveling merchant was considered to have struck it rich.

But now it was different. Zhang Zhao was going to lead them to make trouble in the territory of the Karakhanid dynasty. Compared to traveling merchants who earned hard money, the Karakhanid royal palaces and royal tents were riches beyond the heavens.

Though the risk was immeasurably greater, so too was the reward immeasurably greater!

Besides, they had seen Zhang Erlang's abilities with their own eyes. He had the golden armor bestowed by the Grand Guardian protecting his body — blades and spears could not pierce him! Invincible!

Even better, Young Lord Zhang Erlang had a good head on his shoulders, was descended from nobility, and had connections everywhere. Following a leader like this, it would be hard not to get rich!

"We are willing to follow the Colonel through fire and water, to win merit and build our careers!" the crowd roared in assent.

"Good! All of you are good brothers! I, Zhang Zhao, here and now, with my own birth date and hour, call upon all the gods and Buddhas of heaven to bear witness! From this day forward, I swear brotherhood with all of you. We shall share clothes and food, share wealth and honor. If my words prove false, may gods and men alike strike me down!"

Having spoken, Zhang Zhao carried the wine bowl over to Fan Quan. He dipped three fingers of his right hand into the bowl, then smeared the mixture of strong liquor, chicken blood, cinnabar, and yellow-paper ash onto Fan Quan's forehead!

Fan Quan dropped to one knee with a boom, then drew the short knife at his side and slashed his right arm. He smeared his own blood onto Zhang Zhao's bare chest.

"Your servant Fan Quan pays homage to my lord!"

This was no ordinary blood oath. It was the ritual for taking retainers from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States era, when Xia lords ruled over barbarian subjects. By the Tang dynasty it had changed somewhat, but the meaning remained.

Likewise, the term "retainer" was no ordinary acknowledgment of a master, and the word "my lord" could not be used carelessly. The classic example was Tian Heng's five hundred men in the early Han. Such retainers were even more exacting than the personal troops of later dynasties — theirs was a bond of shared life and death.

If the lord died in battle, his retainers would absolutely not live on alone. Even retainers not at their lord's side would choose to take their own lives.

Even if the lord rebelled, and others refused to follow, his retainers would certainly follow. Because if they did not, and the lord was defeated, those he had rebelled against would do everything in their power to kill them too.

After Fan Quan came Fan Shun, then Qiong Re Duojin, Dunzhu, and the others. Finally it was Bai Congxin's turn, and he too unhesitatingly slashed his arm and smeared his blood onto Zhang Zhao's chest.

This had, of course, been discussed beforehand. Over the past month, Zhang Zhao had shown them all the qualities of a worthy leader, and at the same time had given Bai Congxin and the others a reasonable plan — a path that could turn horse-bandits into nobles.

"Those are retainers!" Cao Yanlu, seated far off with a bowl of wine in his hand, sighed with undisguised envy. The fine wine in his bowl instantly lost its savor.

Even someone of Cao Yanlu's status did not have a single retainer. Even his father, Cao Yuanzhong, had no retainers. Yet this Zhang Erlang had taken eleven retainers in a single day — and they were the kind of brave warriors anyone would covet.

"Little brother, how is it? Did your third sister speak falsely? What do you think of this Young Lord Zhang Erlang?"

Lady Cao Sanniang struggled to conceal the shock in her eyes, then looked toward Cao Yanlu. She too had not expected that in just one short month, Zhang Zhao would have won such renown in the hearts of these men.

"A great man should be like this!" Cao Yanlu exclaimed, without the slightest pretense.

"Third Sister's judgment was right. Young Lord Zhang Erlang truly has the bearing of a hero. If a man like this can return alive from Khotan, then our nineteenth sister should marry him!"

"No! Elder Brother, we should settle the marriage agreement for nineteenth sister with him right now!

Because if Zhang Erlang does return alive, he will surely come back with even more elite retainers. By then, nineteenth sister would be marrying above her station, and it might not even be our family's turn.

But right now, nineteenth sister can still be said to be marrying down — it is we who have the foresight!" A trace of desolation flickered across Lady Cao Sanniang's face, but she quickly concealed it.

"It's not impossible! But Father... will Father agree?" Cao Yanlu was somewhat tempted.

Because if Zhang Zhao did return, then as Lady Cao Sanniang had said, it would no longer be called giving away a sister — it would likely be called marrying up. And if Zhang Erlang did not return, the engagement would naturally be annulled.

"Wait for Father? By the time Father has considered everything with his usual caution, it will be too late. I am nineteenth sister's eldest sister, and you are her eldest brother. Let us take the gamble now. At worst, we go home and take a scolding from Father!"

Cao Yanlu stared fixedly at his eldest sister, then slowly nodded.

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