Bridge Across the Land

By Yvonne Wang

It is 1241 AD, and the Mongols have just invaded Europe, causing a giant collision of cultures. Hungarian King Bla has already declared a state of emergency, Mongolian troops have killed nearly three hundred thousand people in Moscow, and now everyone fears the troops are headed for Poland. As King Boleslav and his son, Prince Alexander, anxiously await the Mongols next move, they have no idea that a team of cavalry scouts has already made the decision to assassinate the Great Khan of Mongolia. Now all the scouts must do is capture the one person who can help them execute their plan.

Tianyin has been assigned to find a girl with one blue eye and one brown eye, possessing a dagger carved with the Great Khans nameand he must do so before the army seizes Krakow. Angela Cherreh, however, has grown up in Poland without any clue that she is the Mongolian princess they are seeking. And now she stands at the stake, preparing to be burned alive because everyone believes she is a witch.

In this historical tale, an assassin and a princess discover that sometimes things do not turn out as expected, especially in an uncertain and dangerous world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466917958

Yvonne Wang

Yvonne Wang is a writer, financial analyst, and Kung Fu medalist. Born in China, she came to the United States as a teenager. In 2011 she graduated from University of Southern California with a degree in Business Administration. In the past few years she worked at The Walt Disney Company, Merrill Lynch and Yuno Inc. As a foreign born writer living in Los Angeles, Yvonne dedicates much of her time contemplating and extracting memories from her multicultural background and historical Asian knowledge base to develop and constantly create rich storylines. Her storytelling brings out exquisite depictions of the environment along with vivid physical appearances and the martial actions of the characters to create visual impact through her eyes. Thus, her novels are known as "books that read like movies".

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© Copyright 2012 Yvonne Wang.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-1793-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-1794-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-1795-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904013

Trafford rev. 11/26/2012

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www.trafford.com

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Contents

Preface

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

Act Four

Act Five

Act Six

Act Seven

Act Seven And A Half

Bibliography

Thank You, Readers!

About Yvonne

Endnotes

Preface

What would our world be like today if the Mongols never invaded Europe or conquered the entire Eurasia continent?

Then our world would look much different today.

This novel is not about historical details, but about our common nature and self-reflections as humans. It is a debate about the concepts of war, mission and love. Even in a modern society, the same globalization and awakenings happens every day.

1. A Significant War and a Significant Mystery

The Mongol invasion of Europe, or the Second Western Expansion of Mongolia, was a global event affecting dozens of countries and their cultures by establishing the foundation for future industrialization. Mongols introduced gunpowder, printing, and the compass to Europe. However, the invasion also threatened European civilization with about half of the population killed and many churches burned.

If the expansion continued, perhaps the world history would have been greatly altered. However, somehow Europe magically survived. In the chilly winter of 1241, the Great Khan Ögedei died in the Mongolian capital Karakorum, and all Mongolian princes who were fighting in the West retreated home to contend for power. The German Principalities, together with England and France, all braced themselves for a Mongol invasion, but they never saw the Mongols coming back.

There are countless studies on this short period of history, but few investigated the key trigger: the death of Ögedei. A popular statement is that he had drunk too much wine that night. To me this claim is not persuasive since no modern physician can examine his body and confirm the lethal factor. Deaths in royal families are usually not as simple. I am not a historian, but I would like to build my story upon this mysterious and significant death: maybe he was assassinated.

2. A Thoughtful Fiction and a Thoughtful Reality

The story begins in 1241 AD, when the Mongols invaded Europe and brought the first-time culture collision between the West and the Far East. A team of cavalry scouts, with different backgrounds and motives, decided to assassinate the Great Khan of Mongolia. To execute their plan, they capitalized on the opportunity of escorting the Mongolian Princess back to Mongolia, while the Princess grows up in Poland without knowing her identity before.

The story involves the assassins, the mix-blood Mongolian princess and the prince of Poland. As their paths merge, they discover each other’s underlining identities. They struggle, hesitate, and grow in the cruel battlefields full of neigh, sword and fire. After spilling blood and shedding tears, they start to reconsider their missions. Are nationalities important enough to make people sacrifice their God-given lives? What is the truth of altruistic patriotism? Does justice conflict with conscience? What is the most precious pursuit in life? They fight not only with the outer surroundings, but also with their own souls.

In the end after the assassination, Mongols retreat from Europe and never come back. Those few characters unconsciously change the flow of the world history. They show us how little details have the power to alter the final outcome; they demonstrate the thoughts of self-discovery and self-reflection. These thoughts are the roads leading to liberty, philanthropism, and equality. This is a story of love and responsibility, of the dialectic philosophy between individuals and the collective, which is a long-lasting struggle in all mankind.

In discussing of self-discovery, perhaps individualism is already an old concept in the West, but in China, where I grew up, the awakening had just begun. Although the novel has only two major Chinese characters, I wrote it as an allegory for current social movement in China. Under the influence of Internet, commercialization and Western thoughts, the current generation in contemporary China no longer trust collective instructions of patriotism, obedience and contribution. Instead, we want to be honest with our souls and develop a unique sense of self. Multidimensional value in young people’s heart heads and minds lead to doubts about traditions and the pursuit of freedom.

This is the conflict, or awakening, I was referring to, whereas the mainstream emphasizes the power of unity, and the anti-collectivism ideology emerges. The assassins in the novel face the same dilemma when they have to choose between their emotions and the mission. War is collective, but death and love are personal. Should they go with their beliefs, or should they listen to their hearts? The characters in this novel are representatives of this awakening of individualism. They are like shooting stars lighting the ancient continent.

3. An Inspired Journey and an Inspired Work

In 2007, I came to the U.S. to receive, in my opinion, the best education in Finance. The experience of living aboard alone was more difficult than I imaged. Like many others, I was challenged by the cultural differences. I could not understand friends’ jokes, struggled in the English writing class, and was not used to American food. The Chinese and American cultures collided in my heart violently. One day, in January 2008, I stood in the Boston University dining hall, and felt I wanted to write a story about this type cultural collision between multidimensional values.

This is how Bridge Across the Land was born. The journey to the U.S. inspired me, and with the novel’s progression the story inspired me more. I did abundant research on the history of the Mongol invasion of Europe, but I never felt I had read enough. The characters gradually came to life, and they accompanied me throughout my first two years of college life. Whenever I was standing in the bus, sitting in the metro, or walking in the snow, I thought of the plot. I would say those are among my happiest memories.

I wrote the script in Chinese because I wanted to deliver my feelings preciously with literary descriptions and my versatile vocabulary. I also extensively depicted martial art movements in detail using my knowledge of Kung Fu to make the fighting scenes more vivid. When it comes to publishing, I was lucky to have Linda as my translator. With her educational background in both US and Taiwan, she is a master of both languages. For a whole year we sent scripts back and forth and made countless edits. Eventually the novel was fully translated and ready to be shown to the whole world. However, as for the preface, I chose to write in English myself as a channel to communicate with my readers directly.

The purpose of studying history is to enlighten our future. Unfortunately most of the time we only depend on the government or the media, both of whom cannot avoid having editorializing, to teach us history. My story is fictional, but I believe discovering the lessons from the past is a job in which everyone can participate. As I experienced the transition of thoughts in China and also the cultural collision in America, I wanted to explore how our ancestors faced the same problems. By looking into the past, each of us will have our own interpretation and association.

Thousands of years is a short period of time, and it is surprising how little mankind has changed. We are as greedy, as ruthless, as brave, as affectionate, and as lost as ever. However, knowing these traits is enough for us to make a grand awakening. By studying ourselves, we are eligible to study the world.

Thirteenth century A.D., the Mongol Empire led by Genghis Khan began to expand its hegemony. The Mongols occupied nearly 70 countries and conquered close to 600 million people, becoming a proud clan. Intrepid audacity was pervasive throughout East Asia, North Asia and the Middle East as a result of their sweeping victories. Eventually, they strived to become the largest country on map in human history by attacking Europe.

This is where history was altered . . .

ACT ONE

Bridge Across the Land

Act One

1241 A.D., Krakow, the capital of Poland.

Ivan, Ivan . . . God, ah— Valerie caresses her son’s sweaty forehead as she anxiously crouches down next to the bed. She is nervous and impatient throughout this restless night. The candle is dim and the air is stuffy, the narrow room is packed with relatives and friends. They look to the unconscious six-year-old boy lying level to the mat. Fingers interlinked, they pray piously. Ivan’s face and arms are full of sores with pus, stings by venomous bees. The swelling is expanding willfully while he twitches uncontrollably. On his collar bones is a prescription written and left by a priest: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen! A string of characters becomes deformed with the rise and fall of his difficult breathing.

Pardon me, let me try! From outside the door, a teenage girl squeezed in; A tan brunette, young and pretty, with a frown and pursed lips; Dressed in an old shirt and a dirty skirt, she has a cloth bag slinging across one shoulder. The most horrifying thing though is her eyes—one is as blue as a celestial lake while the other is as dark as the night. Quite a few people are terrified enough to take half a step back and wonder if she is a witch.

Angela, what do you want? Valerie watches her approach and stands in front of Ivan to protect him.

Get out of the way otherwise little Ivan will die! Angela digs out a dagger with a refined sheath and an expensive handle engraved with symbols no one recognizes. She pulls out the shiny blade and swings it, roasting the tip of the machete over the candle.

What are you talking about? Father came, God will bless Ivan! Valerie argues, every syllable succinct and sonorous. Several people immediately rush forward, wanting to drag Angela away.

Unexpectedly, the young woman whips the knife toward the crowd, threatening them fiercely, Don’t anyone come over!!

She spins across the floor and reaches the bed. With lightning speed, she picks out the poisonous needles remaining in his skin with the tip of her scalpel one by one. She leans forward, sucks and spits out the venomous blood. With blood tainting her mouth and jaws, she looks incredibly scary. A little while later, Angela takes out some herbs, again from her satchel. She chews it until it becomes a paste with which she dabs Ivan’s wounds. . . .

Her eyes, blue on the right and black on the left, are focused, stubborn and serious.

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The mild mist leaves dawn’s effulgence in a haze. The sleeping city is just starting to wake up. The tender and green shoots of grass along the streets nod and drip clear and cool dewdrops. The brick path is still as mice scurry about lightly while flaring their pink noses. Morning sparrows and domestic pigeons block half of the sun while they lie on the roof of the bell tower, observing languidly and whispering. Shadows from the stone wall and the sharp steeple melt into the first ray of sun. The tall church stands out among hundreds of houses; with light reflecting on the lattice windows, it seems secretive, holy and mysterious.

Inside the Bender Bakery, the enticing scent of baked bread and cheese lure and waft. The shop may be small but its reputation has spread far and wide. Morning guests flow in. Milk bread, onion bread, sesame donut and egg cake are always the best sellers. By afternoon, it will be graham roll, cheese cake and rye bread’s turn.

The production of baked goods that begin at faint sunrise finally comes to an end, Angela strips off her two sleeve protectors covered with flour and collapses due to fatigue; With a tired and aching back, she sits on the wooden barrel next to the reception. This 17-year-old is alone in a daze.

Angela! The boss hollered, Do you have to sit here? Your eyes will scare the guests. Don’t you have a date today?

Angela’s inherently two-colored, molten and delicate eyes look up at her, Oh. Her face is still somewhat solemn, but an undercurrent of delight surged forth. She tosses her dark brown waterfall-like hair and said, Then I am going! As she finished, she lifted up her skirt, clanging up the wooden steps, then she stops to turn around and ask, Oh yeah, is your little Ivan better?

The boss places a stick of French bread into a bag and said, Better. He has never slept better. There is no gratitude; in fact, only hostility. Angela does not let it bother her, That’s good. She slips upstairs when she finished talking.

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The curved arch of the stone bridge creates a circle in the water’s reflection. The slightly cool breeze blows ripples set against the light of dawn. Images of surrounding architecture and people never seem to cease. From a long ways away, Angela saw the young man who has been waiting for an extended period of time on the bridge. She shouts, Alexander—

She rushes closer but he continues to have his back to her. He stiffens his spine and seems to feign deafness. Angela beams a gorgeously ethereal smile and taps him on the shoulder, Alexander?

The young blonde has a tall nose, fair skin and elongated eyelashes. The uniform of an imperial attendant on him is crisp and handsome. Suddenly he turns, smiles brightly and hollers, Happy birthday! Angela!

What is this? He is holding a bouquet of flowers! Angela goes mad dizzy, overcome with happiness that is at once intoxicating. She only has eyes for how each petal has a different color, gorgeous and celebratory; the aroma of which rushes forth.

Alexander’s hazel eyes reveal sincere admiration. Bowing softly, Angela, I dyed the colors . . . they look just like your eyes . . . in different hues . . . . He looked at her deeply, with a wide and innocent smile.

Oh, thank you. Angela holds the bouquet, cherishing it with a sweetness and utmost gratefulness. He is probably the only one in the world who feels that her pair of eyes are stunning.

Uh— Biting his lips, the young man tips his toes and with hands behind his back, he hesitatingly emboldens himself and tries to ask, Angela . . . May I ask you for a dance?

The young lady lifts her head and her brows, blinking her sparkly eyes so her face is like a blossom, immediately responds, Okay, what dance steps?

Alexander is overjoyed and chuckles in secret delight, said: That . . . . that one you taught me last time, the basic steps.

Yes! Angela tilts her head briskly, with the bouquet in her one hand, she takes his hand with the other, "Come on!

The young man reels around and quickly holds her tight. The two then pose and hum, stomping according to the movements and tapping to keep tempo. Sometimes together and sometimes apart, they gaze while moving in circles. The morning light warms their cheeks and the rhythm and the river carry their beautiful reflections. Sometimes they bump into the stone fence and sometimes they go around pedestrians; they twirl and twist. Arms wrapped around each other as they tap about, they forget all that is around them. Alexander dumbly gazes at Angela’s splendid face that is delicate and ivory, amber hair that is fall-like and shiny. They moves their feet and bend their knees intoxicatingly, twisting and turning. He only feels as if the street scene and waves on water behind her all become blurry; there is only that pink face in the golden light, that pair of two-colored translucent eyes.

The hummed tune concludes, he dips and has his arm around Angela’s waist. The young lady does not respond in time; she lifts her arm and that bouquet flies out of her hand and scatters across the river.

Oh no! Angela quickly clings to the fence of the bridge and looks over, she only sees the branches and the flowers separating and the dyed colors of the petals smudged. The clear ripples are smeared a bloody red, slowing drifting away with the waves.

The young woman is frightened and for some reason feels a chill up her spine. All of a sudden she feels something ominous is about to happen.

The young man is shocked, scratching his head and trying to make up for things by saying, Never mind, Angela . . . I’ll . . .

Suddenly he sees her stubbornness and determination. She lifts up her skirt and ties it to her waist, then steps onto the stone fence. She is about to jump off! Don’t— Alexander plunges forward, clutches her waist, pulls her down and implores, Oh my God, aren’t they just some flowers? I’ll dye another bunch for you another day.

Angela pants, looking at the surface of the river then glancing at him. She is silent and does not answer. To him, those are just flowers? But to her, that is the first birthday present she has received since her dad passed away.

Anxious and breathing unevenly, Angela is upset. She says, But . . .

Um—I’m sorry Angela, the young man smiles dashingly and interrupts her. With hands in his pockets, he says earnestly, I have to go.

Angela frowns and seems to wake up from a stupor, as if she has been soaking in chilled water. With her rosy mouth agape, she is disappointed and frustrated.

The prince will be attending a meeting today, as an attendant I must accompany him. Alexander drapes his arm around her shoulder and coaxes her softly.

Angela turns about and immediately becomes alert and determined. Eyes wide, she follows up, Another meeting? Is it because of the Mongol army?

Yes. Alexander expresses sadness and worry. Brows furrowed in serious consideration, he bites his lip dolefully, The Mongols have already occupied the South Kievan Rus’ steppe, next will be us. The Hungarian King Béla has already declared a state of emergency.

Alexander, Angela and him hug. She sighs in disappointment and tells him, Go, don’t just take care of the prince, you have to take care of yourself too.

Okay, I will. Goodbye, Go home. He kisses her cheek.

Goodbye! Angela smiles with difficulty, untucking her skirt and glancing back every step she takes as she disappears around the corner.

The attendant who has been hiding across the street the entire time slips out and walks over to Alexander. Seeing that he is stilling looking and reminiscing, humbly says, Your Royal Highness, it’s time to go.

Anthony, she is very special, isn’t she? Alexander stands straight and stunned at the foot of the bridge, staring longingly, You saw her eyes? One of them is black . . . like a piece of art made by God. Unfortunately— He suddenly becomes sad and powerless, Given her status, I will never marry her.

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Golden lights filter through the large windows and shine into the luxurious conference room. Carvings are on the murals and crystal chandeliers hang darkly while intricate oil paintings decorate the walls. Ornate vases dot the room, opulent curtains caress the floor, soft chairs and long tables, cotton blankets and crystal glasses further make the room exquisite and royal. The royal leaders of Poland’s four dukedoms sat together.¹

Okay, Miechowo, you and others may go first, King Boleslav waves and commands, sinking into the soft leather seat with elaborate engravings. A large sheet of sheep skin map and movable tags cover the platform. Servants and attendants are stationed on both sides; the atmosphere is tense and oppressive.

Yes, Your Majesty. The over 50-year-old butler has a round belly, drooping cheeks and an elegant and smooth voice. He leads the servants and they file out.

The King watches them leave then sighs to the other three individuals, Mongolian troops are devils, they have killed nearly 300,000 people in Moscow. King Béla also contacted Bohemia, Austria, as well as the Knights Templar. If we cannot help Béla keep the Mongols out of Hungary, then Polish territory will also be scourged by those devils. Boleslav puts down the letter delivered by the Hungarian envoy. His expression grave and he sighs bitterly as he leans into his forehead, Oh, why . . . . did God connect Asia and Europe?

Duke Henry of Silesia stands up angrily and looks out the window proudly, "How are the Mongols scary? Our military strength is not slight. I will immediately write my brother-in-law Wenceslaus.² Have him send troops expeditiously to help. Our knights, armors and shields are not defeated easily."

So, what is your plan? Conrad asks.

Boleslav sends an army to help Béla. I will build strength to preserve Poland.

Conrad gives his beard a lilt and says in an odd voice, Why aren’t you the one going?

Henry chokes back his words to diffuse the quietly spreading smoke. The King is just about to open his mouth when an attendant comes to report, His Royal Highness the Prince is here.

A minute later, Alexander greets the elders. The king is dissatisfied, Alexander, you are late.

I’m sorry, please forgive me. Alexander bows gracefully.

Did you slip out again in civilian clothes? His father snaps, wrinkling his forehead and shooting rage with his green eyes.

. . . No, no. Alexander shakes his head to deny vigorously at the same time remains composed. He respectfully lowers his head to say, Master Ed taught me new sword techniques, I went to a desolate location to practice. Little did I know that I would forget the time . . . I am extremely sorry. He smiles and quickly changes the subject saying, Oh yes, Father, just received news from an intelligence agent, the Mongolian army has already divided its soldiers into three, of which the northern division has already reached East Prussia. I am afraid . . . they are headed for Poland!

His words shocked the four elders. As potential danger escalates rapidly, terror is heightening too; they cannot help but feel their hair are standing on end. Boleslav is bathing in the sunlight but a drop of cold sweat quietly drips down his temple, Aren’t, aren’t they against Hungary only? Then . . . . Who is the leader of the northern division? Also, East Prussia . . . aren’t the Teutonic Knights able to block them?

Anthony pulls out a cushioned seat. The prince bows and sits down worriedly and sadly, replying immediately, "It seems to be Baidar.³ Since the Teutonic Knights have been invited down south to help King Béla in Hungary, Lithuania has almost no defense."

Oh my God. Conrad shakes in fear. Touching that old sheep skin map, he pushes a wooden block to East Prussia, There is not much more distance. The Mongolian army can charge into Krakow in merely a blink of an eye.

Henry hangs on to the table and asks: Alexander, how many people do they have?

The frustrated Prince: I don’t know.

Five people gather in front of the map, exchanging glances and together looking over at the river-land divide. The territory occupied by the Mongols goes from the east coast and crosses the Asian continent. Along the way, they leave hardly any survivors. Forcing their way through with sharp swords, they seem poised to swallow Europe. The heart of Poland is only a thin veil away from the Devil. They are so close that the demon can be heard; they are at the edge of a deep abyss.

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A starry night. The Mongolia army camp east of the Lublin region, Poland.

Inside the tent, lanterns are just lit. Reflections of light sway in the helmets and the blades. Baidar sits cross-legged before the low table, reading a roll of military orders and writing vertically. His eyes steady and his penmanship bold. After he finishes writing, he rolls the scrolls up and hands them to Kaidu next to him. "Kaidu⁴ then turns to a messenger. The messenger genuflects to receive the command, then leaps onto a horse at a lightning speed, riding afar in the wind.

Kaidu is young and agile. In a flash he steps back and sits down. Baidar drops his voice and says, Okay, once the North Wing takes down Lithuania, we will have no more worries. They continue to move toward Pomerania and should be able to enter northern Poland from there and join forces with our main army.

Do the Poles think the North Wing division is our main force? Scrunching his eyes, Kaidu asks.

Baidar reveals a slight sneer, "The real main force is in Hungary. Even if they were to find us here, it will be useless for them. Spring is coming, we must fight and end it quickly. We might even be able to get back and help General Subutai.⁵ He focuses and considers it for a brief moment then looks at his nephew, We will start invading from the territory east of Conrad; getting on the road tomorrow, how is that?"

Of course it’s not too late, Kaidu answers casually. Then he leans over to ask, But what about the princess? Before the major army attacks Krakow, we have to send people to find her.

Rest assured. Since we have discovered the princess, I will send people with the best martial skills to bring her back to Mongolia. As he finishes speaking, Baidar rises to reach the tent opening, ordering a soldier to send for Tianyin.

Tianyin? Kaidu is puzzled, "That Han⁶ Chinese with no last name? Is that Okay?"

Baidar laughed heartily, Ha ha, do not worry, he is absolutely loyal and reliable. He almost died in escaping a famine when young and was saved by the Mongols and grew up with Mongolian children. For the last decade and more, he has been victorious on numerous occasions and the Han style kungfu he knows can evade and close-in, which is much more practical than the cavalry in bringing back the princess.

In a short while, Tianyin breezes right in and gets down on his knees. He is approximately 27 or 28. Dressed casually, he wears a hair bun and a belt. With his head bent and eyes lowered, he speaks while kneeling on one knee, "Reconnaissance cavalry⁷ Tianyin bows to the General and the Vice General."

Kaidu looks at this man in detail. His brows are like swords and his eyes are bright. He is handsome and seemingly talented. Though he does seem a bit aloof with emotions restrained like a well. He seems as old and steady as someone who has crossed a sea of frost. His movements are swift and strong; his bone structure is solid and muscular and as he hits the ground, his balance is powerful but deft. He really does look like he has a few set of martial skills.

Baidar indicates for him to rise, stroking his beard he says, Tianyin, here is an important task assigned to you. He paces back and forth slowly while explaining, "Eighteen years ago when the Great Khan followed the Grand Founder on a westward expedition⁸ he had favored a blue-eyed woman. Later she stole Great Khan’s switchblade, headed west and disappeared. Earlier, Cavalry Scout Kazakh reported that they found a girl with this knife in Krakow. And from the look of her eyes, she has the blood of Great Khan."

Tianyin stands listening intently, still and quiet, breathing deep and long. His consciousness seems empty like a stone statue. The candlelight casts shadows of his elegant features; his icy eyes are deep and clear. Kaidu purses his lips tight and lifts the heated brass pot on the stove, pours a cup of mare’s milk to nourish his throat. He is too lazy to look at him again.

So if you see a girl with one blue eye and one dark brown eye with that dagger carved with Great Khan’s name in Mongolian, you know she’s the princess. The day after tomorrow, our army will start barraging Conrad’s territory from east to west, charging into Krakow. Baidar stands before Tianyin, gets close to him and lowers