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Rogue Angel™
Forbidden City
Alex Archer
THE LEGEND
…THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOAN’S 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 reborn….
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Prologue
Loulan City, China
184 A.D .
Everyone in the city hated Emperor Ling’s 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 emperor’s tax collectors, Tsui Zedong was the most hated.
Fat and arrogant, Zedong enjoyed throwing around the emperor’s 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 emperor’s 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 emperor’s 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 didn’t 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 emperor’s 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 jeweler’s 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.
“I have come to collect the taxes for the emperor,” 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 didn’t 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.
“There is not enough,” Zedong accused.
“It is all we have,” the jeweler whispered.
“Nonsense. You have a fat cat. If you have enough to keep your cat fat, then you have enough to pay the emperor his taxes.”
“No, I swear to you,” the old man said. “It is all we have.”
Zedong dropped the bag into the emperor’s chest. Then he looked around the shop. “You have gold ingots and jewels.”
“Please,” the old man begged. “We do not have many of those. Hardly enough to stay in business. If you take those, we cannot make items to sell. Then the emperor’s new taxes won’t be met.”
“If you don’t meet the taxes,” Zedong promised, “things will go badly for you.” He turned to the warriors. “Seize the gold and gems.”
The warriors went about their assignment. Screaming in outrage and pain, the old jeweler grabbed one of the warriors by the arm and yanked. Without hesitating, the warrior shoved the old man away and thrust a dagger