Chapter 87: The People of Ming Arrive

The New Army Post by the Qing Stone River was another One Hundred Household Post of the Kaiping Garrison under the Xuanfu Town, governed by the Jin Family Stronghold's Thousand Household Office. Just four days ago, a detachment of Oirat cavalry, numbering over a thousand, suddenly struck southward along the river, seized the post, and slaughtered all four hundred and seventy men, women, and children within its walls. Yet they did not linger; after wiping the blood from their sabers, their horses' hooves thundered southward, leaving the carnage behind.

The desolate post, littered with corpses, soon welcomed new masters—an outlying border clan that seized the opportunity to loot in the wake of the Oirat army’s devastation. Their leader was Enhesen.

Although Enhesen’s people were Mongols by origin, strictly speaking, they did not fall under Oirat rule, nor were they connected to the four major Oirat tribes—Choros (Dzungar), Khoshut, Dörbet, and Torghut. If they were to be assigned any allegiance, it would be to the Tartar tribes once led by Arughtai, the former Grand Preceptor of the Northern Yuan.

With the Tartar’s decline and the Oirats’ rise, these small tribes could no longer take pride in their Tartar heritage. Beset by years of Oirat aggression, the Tartar influence waned, and now the Oirats dominated the Mongolian steppe. Under the relentless pressure from both the Oirats and the Ming, these remnant Tartar clans could only struggle to survive, never knowing when they might vanish from the grasslands altogether.

Watching his people slowly wither, Enhesen had considered surrendering to the Oirats, hoping to preserve his tribe. Yet, because his ancestors were not Mongols but Alans, the Oirats refused their submission. On the contrary, the Oirats despised these big-nosed, fair-skinned outsiders. Were it not for their usefulness in distracting the Ming forces beyond the frontier, the Oirats would have exterminated these so-called mongrel aberrations long ago.

The Alans had once basked in glory. Their homeland lay far away in the Caucasus (present-day Iran), and during the Mongol westward campaigns, they were taken captive and brought to the steppe, becoming an elite guard within the fearsome Mongol armies. During the reign of the false Yuan Emperor Wuzong, the Alans even served as imperial guards. Arughtai, who contended with the Ming Emperor Yongle for a lifetime, was also of Alan descent, and Enhesen’s clan was among the few remnants of these Alans left outside the frontier.

Unable to gain the Oirats’ acceptance, the Alans’ situation was dire. Enhesen’s tribe was especially meager, with barely over three hundred souls, of whom only eighty or so could ride and shoot, the rest being women, children, and the elderly.

With such scant strength, Enhesen would never have dared to lead his entire clan into Ming territory to plunder in earlier times. But now, with the Oirat army forging ahead of them, even the most timid among them could boldly enter the borderlands to loot.

The Ming forces had collapsed with such swiftness that the lands north of Xuanhua were left virtually deserted. In the days since crossing the border, Enhesen and his people had encountered only a handful of desperate Ming soldiers—whom they quickly dispatched—and no further sign of resistance. Their courage grew, emboldening them to make the Ming post their temporary base during this southern raid.

The Oirats’ slaughter had been thorough; not a single Ming inhabitant remained alive in the fortress. These cursed Oirats, knowing that the lesser clans following in their wake would clean up after them, cared only for killing and not for burial. Enhesen and his people spent an entire day just clearing away the corpses.

Yet, their hardship was handsomely rewarded. The stores of grain, ironware, salt, and cloth within the fortress would suffice to see Enhesen’s clan through the winter. If they could continue looting for ten days or half a month more, Enhesen believed not only would no one starve this year, but come spring, their numbers might even increase. With enough food, he, as chieftain, would no longer be forced to drown newborn infants—a memory that pained him deeply every time he wrenched a newborn from its mother’s arms.

The Oirats fought fiercely, but their focus lay with the Ming. Many fortresses they raided only superficially, leaving ample spoils for small clans like Enhesen’s. Since the Oirats cared little for their actions, if they did not seize this chance to plunder, when would another come?

No one ever begrudges more grain. At dawn, Enhesen sent his son Erdeni with fifty warriors to scour the south for further spoils. Only thirty able-bodied men remained in the post, but Enhesen was unconcerned; he knew there would be no Ming forces for miles around. If any remained, they would be those desperate to flee, and such fugitives would never dare attack them.

The men rode south, jubilant in their quest for loot, while the women busied themselves sorting the riches their husbands had won. Children ran about the fortress, wielding wooden knives and playing at slaughtering Ming soldiers. By the riverbank, a dozen elderly women washed clothes, and smoke curled lazily from the fortress kitchens. From afar, the New Army Post seemed a tranquil, idyllic haven, the very picture of a paradise untouched by strife.

But this scene of peace did not last long. Suddenly, a sharp-eyed Alan on the fortress wall shrieked, “The Ming are coming! The Ming are coming!”

“The Ming are here!”

The elderly women by the riverbank dropped their tubs of laundry in terror, stumbling and screaming hysterically as they fled toward the fortress, desperate to warn those inside.

The Ming arrived swiftly, a cavalry force of about a hundred strong. Yet after crossing the Qing Stone River, they did not pursue the fleeing Alan women, but instead drew up their mounts by the riverbank. The Ming leader conversed with his officers, and those on the fortress wall saw him point several times in their direction.

The news of the Ming’s approach threw the entire fortress into chaos. Years of terror had left the Alans unable to accept the sudden arrival of Ming troops. They scattered in panic, men fumbling for weapons and racing to the walls, women clutching their children and barricading themselves inside the houses they had seized, piling whatever they could against the doors as if their lives depended on it.

The news rattled even Enhesen, the chieftain. Nearly fainting, he had to be helped to the wall by his grandson Zatu.

Fortunately, the gates were quickly shut, and the Ming force did not appear large—just over a hundred men. From their posture on the riverbank, showing no sign of attacking, Enhesen surmised that the Ming were not here specifically for them, but merely passing through. If he could persuade the Ming to leave peacefully, it would surely be in the best interest of both sides.

(To be continued…)