stronghold left to China, and its fall would be almost fatal to that

realm. Hence Kublai, who had succeeded to the empire of the Kins in

Northern China, and was bent on making the rest of that country his own,

made his first move against this powerful city, which the Chinese

prepared with energy to defend. In all the history of its wars China

showed no greater courage and resolution than in the defence of this

important place.



The army of Kublai consisted of sixty thousand veterans of the Mongol

wars, with a large body of auxiliary troops, an army large enough to

occupy all the neighboring heights and form an intrenched camp around

the city ten miles in length. This done, and all communication by land

cut off, steps were taken to intercept all supplies sent by water. The

Mongols had no vessels, but they set themselves with their usual

activity to build a fleet, and in a short time had launched upon the Han

fifty junks larger than those used by the Chinese.



Meanwhile Lieouwen Hoan, governor of the two cities, was strengthening

their works and vigorously repelling every assault of his foes. The city

was surrounded by thick and lofty walls and a deep fosse, was amply

garrisoned, and was abundantly supplied with provisions, having

food-supplies, it was said, sufficient "for a period of ten years." Thus

provided, the gallant commandant, confident in his strength and

resources, defied the efforts of the enemy. Threatened by the Mongols

with massacre if he should continue a vain defence, he retorted by

declaring that he would drag the renegade general in command of their

troops in chains into the presence of the master to whom he had proved a

traitor.



These bold words were sustained by brave deeds. All the assaults of the

Mongols were valiantly repulsed, and, although their army was constantly

reinforced by fresh troops, the siege made very slow progress. The

position of the besiegers was several times changed, their lines were

here extended and there withdrawn, but all their efforts proved vain,

they being baffled on every side, while the governor held out with

unyielding fortitude.



A flotilla of store-ships on the Han was met by the Mongol fleet and

driven back with serious loss, but this success was of no great service

to the besiegers, since the cities were still well supplied. Thus for

three years the siege went on, and it was beginning to languish, when

new spirit was given it by fresh preparations on the part of the two

contestants. Kublai, weary of the slow progress of his armies, resolved

to press the siege with more vigor than ever, while the Chinese minister

determined to do something for the relief of the garrison.



A large Chinese army was put into the field, but it was placed under the

command of an incapable officer, whose dilatory movements promised

little for the aid of the valiant defenders. Nothing would have been

done had not abler and bolder spirits come to the assistance of the

beleaguered host. Litingchi, governor of Ganlo, a town on the Han south

of Sianyang, incensed by the tardy march of the army of relief, resolved

to strike a prompt and telling blow. Collecting a force of three

thousand men, from which he dismissed all who feared to take part in the

perilous adventure, he laid his plans to throw into Sianyang this

reinforcement, with a large convoy of such supplies as he had learned

that the garrison needed.



The attempt was made successful through the valor of the Chinese troops.

Several hundred vessels, escorted by the band of devoted warriors,

sailed down a tributary of the Han towards Sianyang. The Mongols had

sought by chains and other obstacles to close the stream, but these were

broken through by the junks, whose impetuous advance had taken the

besiegers by surprise. Recovering their spirit, and taking advantage of

the high ground above the stream, the Mongols soon began to regain the

ground they had lost and to imperil the success of the expedition.

Seeing this, and fearing the defeat of the project, Changchun, at the

head of one division of the escort of troops, devoted himself and his

men to death for the safety of the fleet, charging so vigorously as to

keep the Mongols fully occupied for several hours. This diversion gave

the other Chinese leader an opportunity to push on to Sianyang with the

store-ships, where they were joyfully received by the people, who for

three years had been cut off from communication with the outside world.



So great were the excitement and joy of the garrison that they flung

open the city gates, in bold defiance of their foes, or as if they

thought that the Mongols must be in full retreat. Their enthusiasm,

however, was somewhat dampened when the mutilated body of the heroic

Changchun came floating down the stream, in evidence of the continued

presence and barbarity of their foes. The work of reinforcement done,

Changkone, the other leader of the party of relief, who had succeeded in

bringing to the garrison certain needed supplies, felt that he was not

wanted within its walls. Outside, Litingchi was hovering near the enemy

with a force of five thousand men, and the gallant admiral of the fleet

resolved to cut his way out again and join this partisan band.



Calling together his late followers, he extolled the glory they had won

and promised them new fame. But in the midst of his address he perceived

that one of the men had disappeared, and suspected that he had deserted

to the Mongols with a warning of what was intended. Changkone, however,

did not let this check him in his daring purpose. Gathering the few

war-junks that remained, he set sail that night, bursting through the

chains that crossed the stream, and cutting his way with sword and spear

through the first line of the Mongol fleet.



Before him the river stretched in a straight and unguarded course, and

it seemed as if safety had been won. But the early light of the dawning

day revealed an alarming scene. Before the daring band lay another

fleet, flying the Mongol flag, while thousands of armed foes occupied

the banks of the stream. The odds were hopelessly against the Chinese,

there was no choice between death and surrender, but the heroic

Changkone unhesitatingly resolved to accept the former, and was seconded

in his devotion by his men. Dashing upon the Mongol fleet, they fought

on while a man was left to bend bow or thrust spear, continuing the

struggle until the blood of the whole gallant band reddened the waters

of the stream. The Mongol leader sent the body of Changkone into the

city, either as a threat or as a tribute of admiration. It was received

with loud lamentations, and given a place in burial beside that of

Changchun, his partner in the most gallant deed that Chinese history

records.



This incident, while spurring the garrison to new spirit in their

defence, roused the Mongols to a more resolute pressure of the siege. As

yet they had given their attention mainly to Sianyang, but now they drew

their lines around Fanching as well. The great extent of the Mongol

dominion is shown by the fact that they sent as far as Persia for

engineers skilful in siege-work and accustomed to building and handling

the great catapults with which huge stones were flung against fortified

places in the warfare of that age. By the aid of these powerful engines

many of the defences of Sianyang were demolished and the bridge between

the two cities was destroyed.



This done, the siege of Fanching was vigorously pressed, and, after a

severe bombardment, an assault in force was made. Despite the resolute

resistance of the garrison, the walls were forced, and the streets

became the scene of a fierce and deadly fight. From street to street,

from house to house, the struggle continued, and when resistance had

become utterly hopeless the Chinese officers, rather than surrender,

slew themselves, in which they were imitated by many of their men. It

was a city of ruins and slaughtered bodies that the Mongols had won.



The engines were now all directed against the fortifications of

Sianyang, where the garrison had become greatly dispirited by the fall

of Fanching and the failure of the army of relief to appear. Lieouwen

Hoan still held out, though he saw that his powers of defence were

nearly at an end, and feared that at any moment the soldiers might

refuse to continue what seemed to them a useless effort.



Kublai at this juncture sent him the following letter: "The generous

defence you have made during five years covers you with glory. It is the

duty of every faithful subject to serve his prince at the expense of his

life; but in the straits to which you are reduced, your strength

exhausted, deprived of succor, and without hope of receiving any, would

it be reasonable to sacrifice the lives of so many brave men out of

sheer obstinacy? Submit in good faith, and no harm shall come to you. We

promise you still more, and that is to provide all of you with honorable

employment. You shall have no grounds for discontent: for that we pledge

you our imperial word."



This letter ended the struggle. After some hesitation, Lieouwen Hoan,

incensed at the failure of the army to come to his relief and at the

indifference of the emperor to his fate, surrendered, and thenceforth

devoted to the service of Kublai the courage and ability of which he had

shown such striking evidence in the defence of Sianyang.