Daughter of Xanadu - Dori Jones Yang [6]
On the day of the battle, they hurled torrents of rocks over the walls into the city. The army could hear the shrieks of the Chinese citizens. So frightened were the people that they opened the city gates and flooded out, screaming.
I leaned back against a wall and frowned. I disapproved of this new way of fighting, by frightening townsfolk instead of wielding sword and bow. No valor in it.
Old Master continued. The Mongol soldiers, ready with their swords and bows, mowed down the evil people of that city by the tens and hundreds. They showed the bravery and daring of their honored ancestors.
“How many enemies did they kill?” one boy asked.
Old Master smiled, reached for his bag, and turned it over. Out of it spilled what looked like small pieces of leather, the kind used to make armor.
The children shrieked.
Ears. A pile of ears that our warriors had sliced off the heads of the enemies they had killed. By tradition, our soldiers cut off ears to count the dead.
A shiver shook me. Suren recoiled. But many boys jumped forward and grabbed the ears. Some tossed them into the air and shouted with delight. Suren’s younger brother, Temur, near the front, shouted more loudly than everyone else. “Victory!”
The horror I felt was weak and girlish, so I shook it off. I drank in the happiness and confidence around me. As the next generation, we would inherit a mighty military more successful than any in history. The Mongol troops had achieved a well-deserved victory. They had fought hard to win each of those ears.
Everything seemed possible. I could no longer contain my secret desire.
“Suren,” I said, in a voice only he could hear. “I want to join the army.”
Suren pulled away so he could look directly into my eyes. Surprise crossed his wide brow, then a wrinkle of skepticism. No woman had ever served as a soldier in the Khan’s army. But after a moment, Suren shook his head and grinned. I could always count on him to support my wild ideas. Suren planned to join the army in Ninth Moon. He leaned over and spoke directly into my ear. “So may it be! We’ll ride off together and fight side by side.”
An arrow of joy pierced my heart. I could see the scene clearly. Prince Suren on his bay steed and me, Princess Emmajin, riding my golden stallion, both of us in leather armor, metal helmets on our heads, quivers of arrows at our backs, swords hanging from our belts, riding in a row of gallant warriors, the crowds cheering all around us.
It was unlikely. I knew that. Still, I sighed. What a perfect day.
“Attention, everybody!” Standing next to Old Master, my cousin Temur shouted above the clamor. “Listen!” Although one year younger than Suren, Temur had the commanding voice that Suren lacked, and the young cousins quickly quieted down.
I frowned, annoyed. Temur was always trying to gain attention.
“Who are the future leaders of the Mongol Empire?” Temur shouted. He was well proportioned and handsome, taller than Suren, broad-shouldered yet trim. His eyes were set wide in his face, giving him a distinctive and appealing look.
The younger boys looked at one another, shifting uncomfortably. They were too young to think of themselves as leaders, more used to taking orders than responding to motivation. Suren frowned but didn’t stop his brother. Suren, I knew, felt jealous of his brother’s confidence. He feared that their father—and the Khan—would choose Temur as eventual heir apparent, even though Suren was the firstborn son and grandson.
“Grandsons of the Khan! We are the future!” Temur continued.
“Yes!” yelled one boy. Then others shouted, “We are!”—still only half convinced. Old Master, rubbing his long wispy white beard, looked on with approval.
Temur stood even firmer. I wished Suren could rally enthusiasm that way.
“Let