â¦THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOANâS SWORD AND RAISED IT HIGH.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd.
Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are rebornâ¦.
Loulan City, China
184 A.D .
Everyone in the city hated Emperor Lingâs tax collectors. Times were hard. Spring floods had ruined crops and dwellings. Families struggled to make ends meet while still having enough left over to fill the imperial coffers. The Han Dynasty, though, remained unsympathetic to the needs of its citizens. Rebellions had begun around the kingdom.
Occasionally, when angry men grew tired of the heavy tax burden, they killed the royal collectors and took back their taxes. The emperor then had to employ more warriors to protect the tax collectors, and that raised the taxes again.
Of all the emperorâs tax collectors, Tsui Zedong was the most hated.
Fat and arrogant, Zedong enjoyed throwing around the emperorâs power. It was said that were he not able to add sums so quickly in his head he would have been executed for being a thief.
Dressed in brocade robes, he traveled the countryside inside an opulent carriage. Six armed warriors on horses escorted him and protected the emperorâs gold from bandits. All of the warriors were experienced and scarred from many battles.
When the carriage slowed that late spring morning, Zedong slid the rice paper shade from the carriage window and peered out. Loulan City was small, filled mostly with farmers who barely eked out an existence. But there were a few skilled artisans and craftsmen. Most of them had shops on the street he presently traveled.
The driver pulled the carriage to a stop, then got down and opened the door.
Holding his robes together, Zedong heaved his bulk up from the padded seat and got out to do the emperorâs collecting. Zedong smelled food in the air. When he stepped down from the carriage, he saw a tavern three shops down. The carcasses of ducks and geese hung from a rope out front, ready for purchase by those who worked inside the city and didnât raise their own livestock.
All of the shops ran in straight lines on either side of the street. Most of them had existed for years, put together by families and trained carpenters. A well in the center of the square provided water for travelers. Several shopkeepers stopped their work and came out to look at the carriage. Most of them wore looks of dread.
The warriors, bristling with swords and bows, tied their horses to the back of the carriage. They took the chest from inside the carriage. Two of them carried it between them.
Several murmured curses echoed along the street. The shopkeepers knew what was about to occur.
Unrolling the scroll the emperorâs tax keepers had prepared listing the shopkeepers and the amounts they were to pay, Zedong reviewed the listing for the jeweler he planned to visit first. Zedong rolled the scroll back and entered the small shop.
The jewelerâs establishment was small and tidy. On the surface, he appeared to be a poor man, but Zedong knew from years of collecting that many shopkeepers and tradesmen disguised their wealth.
An old woman sat in a chair holding a fat cat in her lap.
âI have come to collect the taxes for the emperor,â Zedong announced.
The old jeweler looked nervous. His back was bent from years of hunching over his tools, creating settings and pulling thin gold wire. With a trembling hand, he handed Zedong a cloth bag that clinked.
Zedong knew from the feel of the bag that it didnât contain enough gold. He could have told the shopkeeper that without opening the bag, but he opened it anyway and spilled the contents across his hand.
âThere is not enough,â Zedong accused.
âIt is all we have,â the jeweler whispered.
âNonsense. You have a fat cat. If you have enough to keep your cat fat, then you have enough to pay the emperor his taxes.â