Chapter Fifty-Five: I Want to Slay the Tartars

His deduction was not accepted by Eunuch Guo, and though Lu Qing felt regret, he was powerless to do anything further. After all, his own reasoning was riddled with improbabilities. Setting aside whether Arat’s true intention was to sever the Imperial Army’s route home, even if that were so, Yang Hong in Xuanhua and the Ming troops at Juyong Pass would never permit Arat to brazenly linger in Huailai.

Huailai, unlike Xuanfu and Datong, was far too close to Juyong Pass—the last line of defense before Beijing—less than thirty li away. Even if the Emperor was far off in Datong and unable to deploy forces in time, the regent prince and all the ministers remaining in Beijing would not sit idly by and watch as Arat cut off the Emperor’s return route to the capital.

Based on existing intelligence, Arat had brought around twenty or thirty thousand troops for this raid. Such a force, once breaching the border, could run wild in Xuanfu’s territory, but if Arat chose to pin his forces at Huailai, he would lose the mobility that was his cavalry’s greatest advantage. Under the combined assault of Ming forces stationed at Xuanfu, Huailai, Juyong Pass, and even Beijing, his chances of successfully holding Huailai and cutting off the Emperor’s eastward return were virtually nil.

Moreover, even if everything unfolded as Lu Qing speculated—Arat entering Huailai unopposed, lodging himself under the very noses of several Ming garrisons, waiting for the Emperor’s army to arrive, and then joining forces with Esen’s trailing troops to encircle and annihilate the Emperor’s men—the likelihood of success was still slim. The disparity in strength was simply too great.

Later generations have fiercely debated the size of the army the Emperor led on his expedition, but Lu Qing was certain it exceeded 150,000. Of these, the elite troops from the capital accounted for more than half. Their numbers were three or four times those of the enemy, and all under the watchful eyes of the Ming garrisons at Xuanfu, Huailai, and Juyong Pass. No one could believe that the Emperor’s grand army would suffer a crushing defeat so close to Juyong Pass, barely thirty li from the stronghold, on the road home.

The most reasonable development would be for the Oirats to be soundly defeated by the Emperor’s personally led forces, together with the combined might of Xuanfu, Huailai, and Juyong Pass.

Yet, the most reasonable possibility was precisely what did not happen. The entire course of the Tumu Crisis defied all rational judgment—what was right was wrong, and what was wrong was right.

Lu Qing’s predictions were based on his knowledge of the Tumu Crisis, not on the actual balance of power between the Ming and the Oirats. Therefore, just as when he first encountered Eunuch Guo—who also could not believe Esen would dare attack the imperial camp—no one would believe his outlandish deductions. What they deemed reasonable, Lu Qing saw as unreasonable.

If Lu Qing’s hypothesis were correct, then a host of questions would follow: Where were the tens of thousands of elite Xuanfu troops under Yang Hong? Where were the Ming troops stationed at Huailai? What were the defenders of Juyong Pass doing? What about the regent prince and the ministers in Beijing? What, too, of the Emperor’s own entourage of civil and military officials?

Could it be that none of them cared for the Son of Heaven, and all would stand by while the Emperor and his tens of thousands of elite Ming troops were destroyed at the hands of the Oirats?

Clearly, such a thing was impossible.

At present, it seemed Lu Qing’s warnings were nothing but madness. Even if Eunuch Guo and the others believed him, what could they do?

Right now, their most pressing concern was not to stop Arat, but to break through the possibly fallen garrison at Jinjiazhuang and head south.

If they could not break through at Jinjiazhuang, there would be no chance to alter the course of the Tumu Crisis, and for Lu Qing, likely not even a sliver of hope for survival.

...

When Lu Qing found Niu Qing, the man was in the midst of a heated argument with Wang Dade and Ge Ming. The dispute, naturally, was whether to break out along the border and circle toward Datong, or retreat to Junzibao and hold out for reinforcements.

The first option was a gamble with a slim chance of survival; the second was certain death.

Niu Qing contended they should fall back and defend Junzibao, while Ge Ming insisted there was no turning back. Since the southern road was already cut off, they might as well make for Prince’s Town and head to Datong—even if the path was perilous, it was not a dead end. Most of the tribes along the border had accompanied the Oirat army in the raid; those left behind were women, children, and the elderly. The few able-bodied men posed less of a threat, so there might yet be a chance if they fought. Retreating meant risking another massacre like that at Songshibao at any moment.

Wang Dade, in truth, wanted neither to return nor to detour around the border. He preferred to follow Eunuch Guo south and try his luck. If he survived, a bright future in the Imperial Guards would await. Unfortunately, Eunuch Guo had already abandoned the Junzibao contingent, even casting off Niu Qing, their own commander. As a mere banner officer, Wang Dade could not expect to be retained.

To speak frankly, Wang Dade also believed the more than four hundred old, weak, women, and children of Junzibao were a burden. Heading south without them might offer a sliver of hope. Bringing them along would only drag everyone to death.

If he could choose again, Wang Dade would rather be among the defeated soldiers who escaped from Dushibao with Eunuch Guo, than remain a banner officer of Junzibao.

Secretary Li Wenhe was only skilled in bookkeeping and clerical work, and rarely had his own opinions. In this dispute, he could not judge right from wrong, and as he was not an official, it was not his place to speak. He simply maintained silence. His only comfort was that he was not a native of Junzibao—his family lived at Wanquan Left Guard, so he did not need to worry about his mother or sister’s fate.

The quarrel reached a stalemate. Suddenly, the hot-tempered Ge Ming shouted that if Eunuch Guo would not care for them, he would take men and tie Guo up himself. If they were doomed anyway, why should Junzibao provide food and water for that band of defeated troops, only to be abandoned and betrayed in return?

Ge Ming, though only a banner officer, was nearly as skilled as Niu Qing and was forthright by nature. He was well-respected in the fortress. His outburst immediately roused dozens of Junzibao soldiers to join in, and the situation grew tense, with signs of an impending internal conflict. Startled, Lu Qing quickly ordered his own banner officers to bring their men forward and surround the group—if things turned ugly, they would strike first.

When Ge Ming and his men realized they were surrounded by Lu Qing’s defeated troops, they were furious, feeling both abandoned and betrayed. Niu Qing and Wang Dade could not restrain them; some had already picked up weapons and squared off against the others, hurling curses and frightening the old, weak, women, and children in the camp.

More and more defeated soldiers arrived, and the standoff was on the verge of erupting into violence.

No matter how soft-hearted Lu Qing was, he steeled himself to prepare for a fight. If they did not deal with Junzibao’s men, how could they head south after dawn?

At this crucial moment, Li Wenhe stepped in to urge both sides to calm down. “We are all Ming soldiers,” he said. “Why kill each other? Since Eunuch Guo will not take Junzibao’s people south, then let us part ways—there is no need for bloodshed.”

He persuaded Niu Qing not to return to Junzibao. The enemy had already breached the border; though they were busy looting and had not yet attacked the fortress, they would eventually withdraw, and then Junzibao would be in grave danger. Breaking out along the border was risky, but Ge Ming’s idea was not without merit. Whatever path they chose was fraught with peril; they might as well try their luck. If fortune favored them, and they did not encounter a large enemy force, or only ran into small groups, with over a hundred soldiers escorting them, they might just make it back inside the border.

After much persuasion, Niu Qing hesitated but finally abandoned the idea of returning. Wang Dade, who followed Niu Qing’s lead, also agreed to try their luck along the border.

With Niu Qing and Wang Dade no longer opposed, Ge Ming had nothing more to say. After all, a fight with the defeated troops would only see their own people killed. Most of the defeated troops were hardened fighters, fugitives from Dushi who would stop at nothing to survive—even against their own comrades. They outnumbered Junzibao’s men by a wide margin, so Junzibao would surely suffer most if it came to blows.

Rather than fight for pride and perish, it made more sense to gamble on the border crossing. Besides, the defeated troops might not survive even if they abandoned Junzibao and fled south on their own.

Thus, the people of Junzibao came to an agreement to break out along the border after dawn.

The resolution came more easily than Lu Qing had expected. He had thought blood would have to be spilled to bring Junzibao’s men into line.

Better that no one died. Whether anyone would survive depended on fate; heading south was no safer than going along the border, and which route would preserve more lives was still unknown.

Preoccupied, Lu Qing did not linger with Niu Qing and the others, but withdrew with his makeshift company. He then went to find Fan Ruo, intending to check whether young Tian Yin had buried his brother, and to ask Fan Ruo to take him with the group heading along the border.

When the boy saw Lu Qing, he said only four words: “I want revenge.” Apart from this, he said nothing, still cradling his brother’s corpse in his arms—a sight that tugged at the heart.

Lu Qing glanced at Fan Ruo and Zheng Yu; both shook their heads, clearly unsuccessful in their attempts to persuade the boy.

Lu Qing tried his best to reason with Tian Yin, but the boy refused to bury his brother. In the end, Lu Qing lost patience and scolded him, “You keep saying you want revenge. Fine, I’ll help you. At dawn, we’re heading south to kill the Tartars. If you want revenge, bury your brother and come with me. If not, you can stay here with your brother forever!”

After a long silence, Tian Yin finally whispered, “I’ll go with you to kill the Tartars.”

Lu Qing breathed a sigh of relief. He had no intention of sending an eleven-year-old to fight; he merely wanted to coax the boy into burying his brother. As for vengeance, that could wait until the child was older. But how to take the boy southward was a headache—he did not want to break his word to a child, but bringing him along might prove even more troublesome than dealing with Eunuch Guo.

Fan Ruo found a clean spot near the camp and dug a pit with his knife. Tian Yin, wailing, placed his brother’s body in the grave. When Fan Ruo moved to cover it with earth, Tian Yin stopped him, took a longevity gold locket from his own chest, and placed it on his brother, then began to cover the body with his own hands.

To give the boy some comfort for the future, Lu Qing found a board and marked the grave.

After the burial, Lu Qing entrusted Tian Yin to Fan Ruo and Zheng Yu, telling them about the plan to break out after dawn and asking them to look after the boy. If fate was unkind, they would die together; if they broke through, at least the Tian family’s bloodline would survive, and even in the afterlife, Tian Dazhuang would be grateful.

Fan Ruo was reluctant to care for the boy, but since he had brought him back and the family’s tragedy was so great, he would see it through. Zheng Yu, being Tian Dazhuang’s trusted subordinate, had no objections.

During the night, more than a dozen Ming soldiers escaped and joined them. After verifying their identities as fugitives from Dushi, Lu Qing asked no more questions and ordered that each be given half a cake before resting.

He was exhausted after these two days. With the journey ahead at dawn, he needed to sleep—a clear mind was essential for passing through that unknown gate of hell.