Chapter 843

By the fifth or sixth month the weather had already turned rather hot. Xiaowulang had thrown open the front of his clothes and was panting like a bellows; his feet had long since gone numb, yet he still plodded mechanically forward.

The comrades around him were in much the same state as Xiaowulang — this did not look like an army on the march so much as a crowd fleeing disaster.

They had just come sprinting back from Owada-no-tomari toward the Naniwa-kyo capital.

It was sheer torment. From Naniwa-kyo to Owada-no-tomari was a full one hundred seventy li, and no sooner had they reached Owada-no-tomari and stayed a mere seven or eight days than they were urgently ordered to turn back.

A long forced march — especially one the soldiers felt in their hearts was a wasted journey — dealt a devastating blow to morale.

Xiaowulang felt exactly that now. Extreme exhaustion had just begun to kindle a patriotic fervor in his heart, and in an instant it was utterly extinguished.

In his imagination, he, Xiaowulang, should have been gripping a tachi and charging into the enemy ranks, slashing and killing; even if outnumbered, he would still be a heroic son who served his country with utter loyalty.

But reality dealt him a sharp blow to the head, and his surging hot blood, worn down by the grime and exhaustion of dashing back and forth, vanished completely.

Fujiwara no Hidesato rode beside the Minister of the Left, Fujiwara no Saneyori. The two were of the same clan, and although Hidesato came from a distant branch, he had the prestige of having slain Taira no Masakado, and the warriors of the eastern provinces had a reputation for martial prowess.

In times like these, when warriors had to be relied upon, the Minister of the Left was quite capable of humbling himself before worthy men — all the more so since this one was, after all, one of their own.

Fujiwara no Hidesato rode a Hokkaido horse that was by no means short. These little horses were generally only four shaku tall — that is, about one meter twenty or thirty — though there was, of course, a small chance of producing a tall, fine mount.

Fujiwara no Hidesato was the governor of a province, so naturally he could not ride a short horse. The brown Hokkaido horse beneath him stood a full five shaku high — in the land of Wa, that counted as a truly magnificent steed.

Seeing the column straggling out over ten-odd li, front and rear in disorder, with order maintained only by a host of lower-ranking officials and guardsmen of the palace guard bureaus holding military titles — soldiers of the Palace Guards and Inner Palace Guards, junior lieutenants, and the like — Fujiwara no Hidesato was frantic.

Whether an army was strong or not could be seen from its marching alone. The court had not sent tens of thousands of men on campaign in over a hundred years, so its coordination was a complete mess; it truly could not be called strong.

And as far as Fujiwara no Hidesato knew, the Yan bandits came from Andong and had always excelled in cavalry. Though he had never seen what Chinese iron cavalry looked like, he had seen Emishi cavalry with his own eyes.

Few in number, but fierce and swift, skilled at surprise attacks — presumably these Yan iron cavalry were the same.

Looking back at his own side, with its marching in utter chaos, if they were ever ambushed, it would mean utter ruin.

At that thought, Fujiwara no Hidesato spurred his horse up beside the Minister of the Left, Fujiwara no Saneyori, and offered his counsel:

"Minister of the Left, our great army is about to arrive outside Naniwa-kyo. This is flat, open country, and we are extremely vulnerable to a surprise attack by the Yan bandits. I request permission to take fifty elite horsemen of my own house and ride ahead to screen and scout for the army."

The word "war" left no deep impression at all in Fujiwara no Saneyori's mind, because the land of Wa had never fought any real wars, and he certainly could not imagine how ferocious the iron cavalry of the Central Plains was.

Nor had the Minister of the Left ever deeply experienced the dangers of a march; he could not see where the danger lay at all. But since Fujiwara no Hidesato was willing to go serve as a roving scout rider, he did not object.

Fujiwara no Saneyori looked at Fujiwara no Hidesato with a genial smile and said, "With the Governor of a Superior Province taking the field, the great army will surely be as steady as Mount Tai. I shall also allot you fifty knights of the Fujiwara house to guard against the Yan bandits."

In Japan's administrative system, the provinces and counties under the various circuits were divided into Greater Provinces, Superior Provinces, Middle Provinces, and Lesser Provinces.

Provincial officials were divided into four grades: kami, suke, jo, and sakan. The kami was the chief; the suke was the deputy; the jo ranked third and was generally a local magnate; the sakan was something like a clerk; below them were the petty functionaries.

Fujiwara no Hidesato was the Governor of Shimotsuke with the rank of Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade, and Shimotsuke was one of the Superior Provinces, so Fujiwara no Saneyori very affably addressed him as "Governor of a Superior Province" — clearly with the intent of winning him over.

Fujiwara no Hidesato, however, had none of this on his mind at all. A soldier's instinct for danger told him that something major was surely about to happen.

He clasped his hands in salute at once, and immediately, burning with impatience, led his hundred horsemen out of the great formation and rode ahead to reconnoiter.

Along the road, the marching soldiers saw Hidesato's hundred horsemen and at once, as if by common accord, burst into cheers.

For in the land of Wa, cavalry like this — one man with two horses, most wearing iron lamellar armor, with strong bows hung at their horses' sides — was an extremely formidable armed force.

Because the plains of Wa were narrow, its cavalry had never been numerous, and since their Emishi opponents lived on several small plains in the Kanto and Hokkaido, it was instead the Emishi who for the most part could ride and shoot.

To counter them, Wa had formed cavalry of this sort, wearing lamellar armor, or great armor evolved from lamellar armor and lacquered in red and black.

They also liked to wear odd capes of black and red, to make themselves look very fierce.

This kind of heavy cavalry, which to Chinese eyes looked rather bizarre, was one of the origins of Japan's later three-colored horo elite horsemen.

Moreover, after shooting dead the legendary, ferociously invincible Taira no Masakado, Fujiwara no Hidesato was regarded among Wa's warriors as a brave general, and his fame stood very high. When these warriors realized it was Fujiwara no Hidesato passing by, they grew all the more excited.

But Fujiwara no Hidesato had no energy to spare for such praise. All he wanted to know now was whether the Yodo River was still in his side's hands.

The Yodo River was the most important river of Naniwa-kyo, Osaka. At this time the urban area of Osaka still lay on the east bank of the Yodo, so the river did not yet run through the city as it would in later ages, but instead served as a moat.

At the same time, however, if the enemy cut the bridges over the Yodo, they could bottle up this army of fifty or sixty thousand outside Naniwa-kyo, Osaka.

Then the city's defenses would be hollow within, the men outside would have no supplies, and doomsday would arrive.

Just as Fujiwara no Hidesato was burning with impatience, a brave general in the distance came galloping over with seventy or eighty horsemen. This man was none other than Taira no Sadamori, who in former days had campaigned against Taira no Masakado together with Fujiwara no Hidesato.

"Is Lord Fujiwara heading for the Yodo? The Taira have come especially to lend aid."

Taira no Sadamori called out from far off. He was indeed worthy of being the great general now opening up the Kanto for Wa — almost at the same instant, both men had sensed that something was wrong.

At the sight of Taira no Sadamori, Fujiwara no Hidesato burst into laughter, and the shadow over his heart seemed to lift considerably. "Lord Taira is as loyal to the sovereign and devoted to the country as ever. Then let us go hold the Yodo together."

Taira no Sadamori also laughed heartily. "The Yan bandits are elite troops. If we're going, we should go in force — what can a mere one or two hundred men accomplish?"

With that, Taira no Sadamori shouted to the Wa men who were watching them: "Here is the Governor of Kozuke, Lord Fujiwara, setting out to reconnoiter the Yodo. Are there any brave men who dare to follow, and be the first to test the Yan bandits?"

At Taira no Sadamori's shout, no small number of armored lower-ranking officials who held manors, elite warriors of noble houses, and guardsmen of the palace guard bureaus bearing titles of Palace Guards and Inner Palace Guards answered the call, and before long more than two thousand men had gathered.

Fujiwara no Hidesato cast an approving glance at Taira no Sadamori. Though the two had not discussed it, in their hearts they both felt that the Yan bandits had long since landed at Wakayama and were very likely to come raiding.

At once, Fujiwara no Hidesato addressed the two thousand-odd men who had gathered: "Since you all place your trust in me, Hidesato, let us make our agreement all the clearer.

Those willing to obey orders and not act on their own may remain. Once the Yan bandits are defeated, there will be ample rewards.

If any have come merely to join the excitement, then please turn back — I, Fujiwara no Hidesato, will still be grateful for the sentiment."

Since these lower-ranking officials and warriors had come forward of their own accord, it proved they were indeed men of some courage, and such men naturally would not back down at a moment like this. One after another, they declared themselves willing to obey orders.

So Fujiwara no Hidesato struck while the iron was hot and at once formed the two thousand men into a legion, with himself as legion commander and Taira no Sadamori as colonel, and beneath them established the various offices of brigade commander, squad leader, and the like.

Good heavens — in the Great Zhou, if a noble dared to privately organize troops while the army was on the march, not only he himself but his entire family would lose their heads.

But in the land of Wa, this was, on the contrary, perfectly normal.

After the collapse of the allotment system, the army model built up by local defense commissioners was utterly incapable of fighting a proper war, so in times of crisis, restoring this legion model of legion commander, colonel, brigade commander, and squad leader was actually the most effective approach.

It must be said that one cannot look down on the heroes of the world — Fujiwara no Hidesato and Taira no Sadamori had guessed exactly right.

After Murong Xinzhang led the main army and drove Tachibana no Toyasu back into Osaka Castle, he at once left behind Xiang Xun, who had not yet departed for his post, to hold the position, while the army likewise set up many banners and drums and made a show of preparing siege equipment.

But Murong Xinzhang himself personally led five thousand cavalry made up of such fierce generals as Murong Yanchao, Helian Hailong, Yuan Yanchao, Zhao Siwan, Zhang Jianxiong, Yelu Guizhong, and Riluge, quietly bypassed Osaka Castle, and went to ambush the main Wa army returning from Kobe.

The reason for fighting so recklessly was that young Xinzhang had run into no small trouble of his own.

Ever since the army had risked crossing the sea in winter, cases of frostbite and colds among the troops had increased day by day.

Before they took Awaji Island, the number of men suffering from the unfamiliar climate and water had begun to rise; had they not rested and reorganized on Awaji for a dozen or so days, the situation would likely have been even more severe.

Originally, Murong Xinzhang had mobilized thirty thousand troops and more than ten thousand sailors, over forty thousand men in all.

But now, apart from the seven or eight thousand garrisoning Dazaifu, Akamagaseki, and Itsukushima, those still at full health numbered only a bit over twenty thousand.

Of these, the roughly eight thousand weaker ones were in the hands of Wang Jing and Li Hanqiong; part of them were keeping watch on Ono no Yoshifuru, while a force of elite cavalry hovered behind the main body of the Wa army.

Of the remaining fourteen or fifteen thousand, another two thousand were on Awaji Island, so around Murong Xinzhang himself there were only about twelve or thirteen thousand men.

This—by the numbers, Murong Xinzhang's expedition was the smallest force any conqueror had ever sent in all the dynasties.

He had come to conquer the land of Wa, and now had only twelve or thirteen thousand usable troops, while the Wa army, apart from the immobilized Ono no Yoshifuru, still had more than seventy thousand men, and the number was still growing.

At the same time, the Osaka Plain, where the three capitals of Heian-kyo, Heijo-kyo, and Naniwa-kyo lay, held a population of over seven hundred thousand. If it truly came to the final moment, they could still raise another fifty thousand able-bodied men.

The enemy was weak, but once their numbers grew large, they would be troublesome too.

It was not that they could not be defeated; it was that after routing them, it would be very hard to establish control. Without strong control over this population, they would sink into the quagmire of war.

Therefore, Murong Xinzhang, who had not personally taken the field in a long time, decided to lead five thousand elite cavalry himself in a surprise attack on the Wa army's main force, striving to utterly shatter their administrative command in a single battle.

In the distance, the Yodo River loomed faintly into view. Fujiwara no Hidesato could even hear the rushing sound of its waters. As far as the eye could see, green rice seedlings rippled in the wind—it looked to be another good year.

Taira no Sadamori spurred his horse forward as well. Seeing that the great bridge over the Yodo River was still intact, he immediately set his mind at ease.

Naniwa-kyo, that is, Osaka, had terrain low in the west and high in the east. As long as the army could return to the city, even if the outer city could not be defended, the Morinomiya area in the eastern city sat on high ground with dense waterways, enough to hold out firmly.

Fujiwara no Hidesato pointed to a dense forest to the northeast and said, "If I remember correctly, there should be a small stockade there.

I ask Lord Taira to take six hundred elite troops and camp there. I will set up a stockade around the great bridge. Once the Left Minister's army returns to position, all will be safe."

"Aye!" At this time the Wa upper class used Tang pronunciation, and Taira no Sadamori clasped his hands and answered with a shout, immediately preparing to lead his men there.

But before he had fully gathered his knights, he saw birds burst up from that dense forest in flight. There was no great wind, yet the branches rustled loudly, and from time to time the faint sound of hoofbeats arose.

Fujiwara no Hidesato was shocked. "It is nearly dusk now, and the birds in the forest have suddenly risen—there must be a great army coming!"

The words had barely left his mouth when earth-shaking hoofbeats rang out, and from the northeastern woods countless silver-white figures suddenly burst forth.

They wore silver-white padded armor, draped silver battle cloaks, and held hard bows lacquered silver-white, like cranes spreading their wings as they swept in from both flanks.

"Such tall warhorses, such speed!" Taira no Sadamori's face went pale, and he shouted to Fujiwara no Hidesato:

"The Yan invaders have come—truly the iron cavalry of the superior realm! Warriors of the eastern provinces, follow me and intercept the enemy raiders!"

With that, Taira no Sadamori took the lead, quickly pulling a suit of hanging armor over himself. He gathered over three hundred riders and charged at the left wing of the onrushing Yan cavalry, hoping to break their momentum and buy time for Fujiwara no Hidesato to form ranks.

It was a pity, though—he had courage, but his equipment was far too poor.

The Hokkaido horses used by the Kanto warriors of this time were also far too small. Though their legs were thick and stocky and could bear weight, their sprinting speed was truly pitiful.

More importantly, the cavalry the Kanto warriors had faced before were the fishing-hunting Emishi horsemen, who were fewer in number than them and had little in the way of tactics. So they mostly did not emphasize coordinated combat, instead giving play to individual valor. The so-called "single combat" of this era arose from exactly this.

Taira no Sadamori saw the charge as ferocious, but to Riluge it looked somewhat laughable. Those Wa men rode little horses no bigger than donkeys; the men were small and the horses short, looking like a bunch of children from the steppe.

Around Riluge were all elite steppe light cavalry selected from the twelve myriarchies of the grasslands. Seeing the Wa cavalry thrusting at their flank, Riluge let out a sharp whistle, and the surrounding riders answered with ape-like howls, their minds in perfect accord. They immediately abandoned the pounce and wheeled their horses away in a wide arc.

Taira no Sadamori groaned inwardly. Their warhorses' galloping endurance was already inferior to the enemy's, and the enemy shamelessly chose to evade, seeking to wear down their horses' strength. How shameless!

And so a bizarre scene unfolded on the battlefield. Taira no Sadamori's cavalry had gone to intercept, and the effect had indeed been achieved—he had truly cut off part of the enemy's left wing from their charging momentum—but he had not even touched a single hair of them.

What was more terrifying was that the enemy's formation had not broken at all. They were clearly leading him around like a dog!

Feeling insulted, Taira no Sadamori burned with rage. He was still considering whether to continue the pursuit, but his knights had already charged out.

These men made their living by individual valor in ordinary times. Once on the battlefield with blood running hot, how could they care about formations or ranks?

Besides, when fighting Emishi cavalry before, there had been no need for such complicated tactics!

Yo-ho! Riluge saw that these little dwarves were brainless, and was immediately even more delighted. He led his steppe warriors in an even wider elliptical dispersal.

Finally, after pursuing for two or three hundred paces, the Wa cavalry at last felt they could not keep chasing.

Because the excitement had passed, adrenaline was plummeting, and their donkey-like warhorses were already drenched in sweat, foaming at the mouth, and too exhausted to run.

At that moment, Riluge whistled again, and several hundred steppe cavalry came galloping back in a countercharge. The Wa men were horrified, and heedless of their horses being near their limit, immediately spurred forward again.

Eh? Riluge saw they could still move, and at once signaled his riders to withdraw again, refusing contact.

This made the Wa cavalry so angry they nearly vomited blood. Taira no Sadamori now sensed the gravity of the situation, and shouted for his riders to strip off their heavy hanging armor and quickly switch to fresh horses.

But the moment they began switching horses, Riluge's cavalry came sweeping in again, blotting out the sky.

This time it was no feint, because the Wa men's stamina was at a critical point, and they were caught in the gap of switching equipment.

In an instant, several hundred steppe cavalry swept past the Wa horsemen, and with their fine horse bows in hand, poured arrows down on the Wa cavalry like rain.

Taira no Sadamori and the others howled in agony. Unable to build up speed, they could only use their warhorses as shields and shoot back with their short bows.

But while they were essentially stationary, the steppe cavalry kept circling around them, gaining the advantage of horse speed and being far harder to hit.

More importantly, these steppe cavalry were Sage Zhang's elite troops. Neither their bows nor their armor were anything the Wa men could match.

In the fierce exchange of fire, countless Wa cavalrymen who prided themselves on valor kept toppling to the ground, until the survivors huddled together so tightly that their flat shields could protect everyone, and only then did the arrows begin to slacken.

Yet it was at this moment that their doomsday truly arrived.

Riluge waved his hand, and the thirty armored cavalrymen—men and horses both fully armored—who had not yet entered the fray spurred forward. In just a few breaths, with a single charge, they smashed directly through the huddled Wa men.

Then Riluge's light cavalry, wielding fine steel sabers, followed the assault cavalry's path and began the harvest.

Taira no Sadamori desperately raised his long spear, but before his roar could leave his mouth, a wrought-copper mace struck him on the head.

Then the cavalry thundering past struck him with every kind of weapon, and by the time this brave general's brains were smashed out, he had still not managed to kill a single enemy.

And this was only a small interlude. The real battle unfolded on Fujiwara no Hidesato's side.

Facing Fujiwara no Hidesato were the White-Robed, Silver-Saddled Zhaoyi Lancers, personally led by Murong Xinzhang.

Because their warhorses were all the swift Hexi dragon horses, Taira no Sadamori had in fact not bought Fujiwara no Hidesato much time at all.

By the time Fujiwara no Hidesato and his cavalry had donned armor and mounted, the White-Robed, Silver-Saddled Zhaoyi Lancers had already charged to within seventy or eighty paces.

The Wa warriors' attendants and followers desperately came forward with wooden spears to block them, hoping to win their warriors a brief, precious moment.

But the storm of arrows savagely shot down these followers, who did not even have a single piece of bamboo armor.

Many followers had not even seen the enemy's faces before they were writhing on the ground clutching their throats.

This kind of cavalry shock, far beyond anything the Emishi could deliver, shattered their fragile hearts in an instant. With no time even to wail, many men, the moment their comrades fell, opened a path for the charging White-Robed, Silver-Saddled Zhaoyi Lancers.

Murong Xinzhang rode at the very front, his bright silver long lance in hand, and beside him were his fifty most elite trusted riders.

Here were the sons of his Guazhou Murong clan, and the old Tuyuhun followers from the He-Huang valley. They formed the sharpest arrowhead and suddenly charged toward the Wa cavalry, who had finished donning their armor but had not yet begun to move.

Thirty paces. Everyone, following Murong Xinzhang's movements, drew the horn crossbows from their waists in perfect unison.

By this time, Zhang Zhou's horn crossbows were even more refined than in the Tang era, and somewhat smaller in size.

The draw weight was only around one shi and three or four dou, but still far stronger than a cavalry bow. Its compact size allowed it to be raised and aimed with one hand, making it extremely suited for firing while charging on horseback.

To put it plainly, this was a hand cannon of the cold-weapon age, good for only a single shot.

It avoided the flaw of the cavalry bow, which required the rider to turn sideways for accuracy during a charge, and it also solved the cavalry bow's weakness of feeble power — but it could only be fired once.

Yet that was enough. At thirty paces, with the power of one shi and three or four dou, its force was matchless.

The Wa knights, who could only wear inferior armor and hanging plates, tumbled from their warhorses one after another, "opening" a passage for the charge of the white-robed, silver-saddled Zhaoyi Lang.

Fujiwara no Hidesato watched all this in despair. The enemy had come too fast — beginning a slow acceleration at three hundred paces, and by a hundred paces they were like the wind and lightning.

In Wa, the only horse that could run at such speed was the brown cloud beneath his own legs, yet the enemy had over a thousand warhorses all of this quality. That alone showed how vast the gap between the two sides was.

In his despair, Fujiwara no Hidesato wore his red great armor, which he had stripped from Taira no Masakado's body.

The rebel who had called himself emperor had earned his reputation in the eastern provinces for being invulnerable to blade and spear — in truth, it had all been thanks to this suit of great armor.

Murong Xinzhang also saw the Wa general opposite him. It had been a long time since anyone had dared raise a long spear before him in such provocation.

The good son first directed the Zhaoyi Lang under his command to scatter Fujiwara no Hidesato's cavalry outright, then stabbed them down one by one, leaving only this Wa general who was clearly the leader.

Fujiwara no Hidesato drew a deep breath and slowly began to accelerate. His target had already been pointed out to him by the Yan bandits clustered around.

It was a bandit general fully wrapped in silver armor — tall, handsome, so striking in appearance that even as an enemy, one would have to praise his looks.

Murong Xinzhang also slowly urged his horse forward. By the time he reached twenty paces, he was eighty percent certain he could knock this Wa general from his horse with a single lance thrust.

But at that very moment, the Wa general opposite him threw away his long spear with extreme speed, and at the same time drew from his bosom a very cleverly designed crossbow, then pulled the trigger.

This was Fujiwara no Hidesato's true secret technique. His ancestor had been one of the envoys sent to the Tang, and by a stroke of fortune had learned from the Great Tang the method of making this small crossbow. He had then selfishly hoarded it, hiding it away as the family's secret weapon.

The reason Fujiwara no Hidesato had been able to subdue Taira no Masakado, who was called invincible, was precisely this: he closed in and suddenly released the crossbow bolt, shooting the unsuspecting Taira no Masakado to the ground.

Today, Fujiwara no Hidesato hoped it would work again.

But at the very moment Fujiwara no Hidesato pulled the trigger, the warhorse beneath him let out a startled cry and threw him straight off its back.

It turned out that Murong Xinzhang had a foot crossbow mounted on the side of his horse. With a light tap of his toe, the bolt had pierced through his mount's chest and belly before Fujiwara no Hidesato could launch his sneak attack.

With that fall, the bolt from the short crossbow in Fujiwara no Hidesato's hand flew off to who knows where. The man tumbled from his horse in a spinning daze and was quickly captured.

"Why? Why do you invade our homeland?"

After his treasured armor, treasured horse, and divine crossbow had all failed before the enemy, Fujiwara no Hidesato, pinned hard to the ground, had nothing left but fury.

He raised his head in rage, glaring with resentment and incomprehension at Murong Xinzhang, who looked down upon him like a god.

"Why? Hmph!" The good son snorted coldly. "The Supreme Heaven tells me: if a child is not taught, it is the father's fault. The root went crooked with your people, so those who came before must pay the price for what those who came after have done!"

Fujiwara no Hidesato listened with a face full of confusion. He had no idea at all what Murong Xinzhang's words meant.

But he would not need to know for long, because a burly man with flashing red triangular eyes was staring at him, drooling with greed, and said in a hoarse, panting voice:

"Finally, this one has waited long enough. So this is the first warrior of Wa?

Your heart and gall must be the most delicious and potent of all. After savoring them, this Zhao Siwan will have eaten exactly over a thousand galls and become invincible under heaven, hahahaha!"

"Why? How would I know why." The good son muttered to himself, then broke into a smile.

"This one only knows that Father's words are right. That is enough."

(End of Chapter)

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