As the crane commander translated his words for the benefit of the room, Pero leaned across to him and muttered under his breath, “That’s the best you’ve got?”
Before William could reply, he saw that the young commander in the red armour, whose helmet was shaped like the head of an eagle, had risen from his seat and was now walking across the room towards him, holding out William’s crossbow and arrows. Handing them to William, he turned and said something to the crane commander, who smirked.
“Commander Chen thinks your bow is not worthy of your skill.”
“You mean he thinks it’s an antique?”
Her amused silence was proof enough that William had got pretty close to the mark.
Although he dearly wanted to sit down, become anonymous and fill his belly, William’s indignation got the better of him. “Tell him there’s no better weapon in this building.”
The crane commander conveyed his words, which generated a ripple of laughter. The bearded man in the black bear armour, General Shao, made what was clearly a good-humored comment and the woman nodded.
“General Shao says we have much to learn about foreign pride.” She wafted a hand to encompass the room at large. “We would like to see you shoot.”
William looked at her in surprise. “In here?”
The commander in the red eagle armour who the woman had called Chen said something and chuckled.
“What was that?” asked William.
This time she managed to keep a straight face. “He thinks you have fear. That you are afraid to look foolish in front of so many people.”
That stung William’s pride. His indignation rose another notch. Turning to Pero he pointed at one of the tables. “One of those cups.”
Pero rolled his eyes. “Now?”
“Get one of those cups,” William said, more insistently.
Pero sighed. “I want to eat.”
But a look from William was enough to make him trudge across to the nearest table and pick up an empty copper cup.
William examined his bow, testing the tension in the string. “You remember how to do this?”
“I remember that last time didn’t go so good,” Pero muttered.
William selected his arrows. “We were drunk.”
All eyes in the room were on the two men. Now that William had his bow back some of them looked wary.
“How high?” Pero asked.
William placed three arrows between his fingers. “Ten yards. And six hands to the right.”
Pero hefted the cup in his hand, testing its weight. William turned to face the door he had entered by, his back to Pero and the rest of the room.
“Oh no,” Pero said.
“I’m fine.”
“Seriously, William. Do the easy one.”
Obstinately William said, “On my count…”
Pero looked quickly around the room. Several hundred Chinese soldiers, their breakfast forgotten, looked back at him expectantly.
Lowering his voice, Pero made one last appeal. “Please, Amigo…”
“One…” William said firmly. “Two… Three… Pull!”
With a look of anguish on his face, Pero hurled the cup across the room. As he did so, William wheeled round, bow drawn. Spotting the cup, he waited for it to reach its apex and then let the first arrow fly. There was a clank as the arrow struck the cup in such a way that it sent it both spinning and flying backwards. In quick succession William released two more arrows, which zipped through the air, over the heads of the astonished spectators. With a pair of metallic thwack sounds the arrows hit the cup almost in unison, and next second the spectators were astonished to see that the cup was pinned top and bottom to one of the big oak pillars on the far side of the room, so neatly positioned that it was as if it had been carefully placed and nailed there.
There was a moment of silence, and then the applause was both spontaneous and deafening. Grinning again, William saw General Shao laughing and clapping his big, meaty hands. He looked across at Commander Chen, who smiled and bowed in deference. Then his gaze found the crane commander, who gave him a quick smile and a nod of respect. Feeling a hand clap down on his shoulder, William turned. Pero winked at him.
“Let’s eat!” he said.
Ballard hovered on the periphery, taking everything in. As soon as he saw the bearded Spaniard break away from his friend and head for the food table, he sidled across.
By the time he reached the Spaniard’s side the man’s plate was piled high with dumplings, spicy noodles, rice and pork.
“Pace yourself,” Ballard said. “The meals are plentiful and regular here.”
The Spaniard helped himself to a generous portion of steamed vegetables. “I hope not to stay that long.”
“I like your thinking,” said Ballard, glancing around, “but I suggest you keep your plans private and your mouth under control. You’re not the first westerners to come here looking for black powder. We’ll discuss it tonight. Bring your partner.”
After getting his food, William was beckoned across to the officers’ table. With the crane commander, who told him her name was Lin Mae, acting as translator, he talked to General Shao and Commander Chen for a while, though was careful not to give too much away. Eventually Shao and Chen excused themselves and left the table to go about their duties, leaving William alone with Lin Mae.
“Who taught you English?” he asked her.
She nodded across the room. “Sir Ballard. English and Latin.”
William wondered what good either would be way out here. “Why?”
“Duty to the Nameless Order demands a life of service,” she said as though reciting a mantra. “We become ready in many ways. We have many foreign books. Many books on war.”
“I heard Ballard has been here twenty-five years,” William said. “You won’t let him leave.”
Lin Mae’s face hardened. “He must stay here.”
“What about us?” William asked, but Lin Mae stared back at him implacably. After a moment he tried a different tack. “How long have you been here?”
“Always. I was not five years old when I came here. I have no other family.”
William nodded, feeling an affinity with her. “You came to fight?”
“To learn to fight.” He smiled and she became indignant. “You think I lie?”
“Oh!” he said, surprised by her reaction. “No, not at all.”
She frowned, confused. “You smile. You find me foolish?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” He struggled to explain. “I smile because… I understand. Because we’re the same. I was given to an army before I can remember. As a child.”
“As a soldier?”
“Worse,” he said. “A gleaner.”
Again she looked confused. William’s smile faded as he recalled those terrible times.
“Packs of children… we cleaned the battlefields. After. When the fighting was over.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I became a page, then a pikeman’s boy. Then on and on until…” He raised a hand, indicating himself, a wry expression on his face.
“You fought for your country?” Lin Mae said.
“No, I fought for food. In my world you fight to eat. And if you live long enough, you fight for money.”
Lin Mae’s face hardened. “So all flags are the same for you?”
William smiled again, but this time the smile was an uncertain one. Had he offended her in some way? He realized that if he was going to maintain his standing here he was going to have to tread very carefully.
“How many flags do you fight for?” she persisted.
“Many,” William said, but the answer clearly wasn’t enough. She stared at him implacably, waiting for him to go on.
Unsure whether it would impress her or anger her, he said, “I fought for Harold against the Danes. I was captured and spared and sold to the Normans. I killed my first man in Scotland—and saved a Duke’s life!—before I even had hair on my face. I fought for him until he died, and then I went to Europe as an archer. I fought for Spain against the Franks. I fought for the Franks against Boulogne. I fought for Pisa and Valencia and the Pope. I’ve fought from Swintetown to Antioch.” He looked at her, but still her face was giving nothing away. Uncertain whether he was apologizing or boasting, he smiled thinly and said, “Many flags.”