Portrait of an Emperor
5.
And then out of the grim, gray dusk, a shadow loomed up to dispute his power. No longer in Kua-chou was he supreme. New legends were drifting back to him from the story-tellers. Too few li away to be comfortable, a barbarian had come into power. His name was Duke Bonimet. He called himself General of all Troops. While this was ridiculous exaggeration there could be no doubting that he had a mighty army under his command, equipped with all the appurtenances of warfare that make one general brave enough to spit in another's face. When he heard about Chang Shou-kuei he laughed heartily, nor would he cease, he declared, until the heavens opened and all the legends of Chang, the Conqueror, rained down like dust upon the desert. This was a challenge that had to be met. For the first time renowned Chang was losing face. Something had to be done about it. His men had turned to the soil. Under their ministrations the soil had responded well. The crops were good. That they were excellent soldiers, there was no denying. They were equal to any emergency. They were in perfect health. Their standard of living was high. They were splendid fighters, brave, loyal, able to stand long marches, and excess exertion without fatigue. In battle they could easily subdue Duke Bonimet. A braggart is like a gaudy kite flying, backed up by a rotten string
that may snap at any moment. Had any of the Supreme
