Kai Lung’s Golden Hours by Ernest Bramah (an ebook reader .TXT) 📕

is as naught.’ If they who go are clad as underlings, Ko’en Cheng will cry: ‘What slaves be these! Do men break plate with dogs? Our message was for six of noble style. Ah-tang but mocks.’ ” He sat down again moodily. “Let others speak.”

“Chieftain”⁠—Tian threw forth his voice⁠—“your word must be as iron⁠—‘Six captains shall attend.’ There is yet another way.”

“Speak on,” Ah-tang commanded.

“The quality of Ah-tang’s chiefs resides not in a cloak of silk nor in a silver-hilted sword, but in the sinews of their arms and the lightning of their eyes. If they but carry these they proclaim their rank for all to see. Let six attend taking neither sword nor shield, neither hat nor sandal, nor yet anything between. ‘There are six thousand more,’ shall be their taunt, ‘but Ko’en Cheng’s hospitality drew rein at six. He feared lest they might carry arms; behold they have come naked. Ti-foo need not tremble.’ ”

“It is well,” agreed Ah-tang. “At least, nothing better offers. Let five accompany you.”

Seated on a powerful horse Tian led the way. The others, not being of his immediate band, had not acquired the necessary control, so that they walked in a company. Coming to the Lantern Gate Tian turned his horse suddenly so that its angry hoof struck the gate. Looking back he saw the others following, with no great space between, and so passed in.

When the five naked captains reached the open gate they paused. Within stood a great concourse of the people, these being equally of both sexes, but they of the inner chambers pressing resolutely to the front. Through the throng of these their way must lead, and at the sight the hearts of all became as stagnant water in the sun.

“Tarry not for me, O brothers,” said the one who led. “A thorn has pierced my foot. Take honourable precedence while I draw it forth.”

“Never,” declared the second of the band, “never shall it be cast abroad that Kang of the House of Ka failed his brother in necessity. I sustain thy shoulder, comrade.”

“Alas!” exclaimed the third. “This person broke his fast on rhubarb stewed in fat. Inopportunely⁠—” So he too turned aside.

“Have we considered well,” said they who remained, “whether this be not a subtle snare, and while the camp is denuded of its foremost warriors a strong force⁠—?”

Unconscious of these details, Tian went on alone. In spite of the absence of gravity on the part of the more explicit portion of the throng he suffered no embarrassment, partly because of his position, but chiefly through his inability to understand that his condition differed in any degree from theirs; for, owing to the piercing nature of his vision, they were to him as he to them. In this way he came to the open space known as the Space of the Eight Directions, where Ko’en Cheng and his nobles were assembled.

“One comes alone,” they cried. “This guise is as a taunt.” “Naked to a naked town⁠—the analogy is plain.” “Shall the mocker be suffered to return?”

Thus the murmur grew. Then one, more impetuous than the rest, swung clear his sword and drew it. For the first time Tian understood that treachery was afoot. He looked round for any of his band, but found that he was as a foam-tossed cork upon a turbulent Whang Hai. Cries of anger and derision filled the air; threatening arms waved encouragement to each other to begin. The one with drawn sword raised it above his head and made a step. Then Tian, recognizing that he was unarmed, and that a decisive moment had arrived, stooped low and tore a copper hoop from off his horse’s foot. High he swung its polished brightness in the engaging sun, resolutely brought it down, so that it pressed over the sword-warrior’s shattered head and hung about his neck. Having thus effected as much bloodshed as could reasonably be expected in the circumstances, Tian curved his feet about his horse’s sides and imparting to it the virtue of his own condition they rose into the air together. When those who stood below were able to exert themselves a flight of arrows, spears and every kind of weapon followed, but horse and rider were by that time beyond their reach, and the only benevolent result attained was that many of their band were themselves transfixed by the falling shafts.

In such a manner Tian continued his progress from the town until he came above the Temple of Fire and Water Forces, where on a high tower a strong box of many woods was chained beneath a canopy, guarded by an incantation laid upon it by Leou, that no one should lift it down. Recognizing the contents as the object of his search, Tian brought his horse to rest upon the tower, and breaking the chains he bore the magic sheaths away, the charm (owing to Leou’s superficial habits) being powerless against one who instead of lifting the box down carried it up.

In spite of this distinguished achievement it was many moons before Tian was able to lay the filial tribute of restored power at Ning’s feet, for with shallow-witted obstinacy Ti-foo continued to hold out, and, scarcely less inept, Ah-tang declined to release Tian even to carry on so charitable a mission. Yet when the latter one ultimately returned and was, as the reward of his intrepid services, looking forward to a period of domestic reunion under the benevolent guidance of an affectionate father, it was but to point the seasoned proverb: “The fuller the cup the sooner the spill,” for scarcely had Ning drawn on the recovered sheaths and with incautious joy repeated the magic sentence than he was instantly projected across vast space and into the trackless confines of the Outer Upper Paths. If this were an imagined tale, framed to entice the credulous, herein would its falseness cry aloud, but even in this age Ning may still be seen from time to time with a tail of fire