Dragon Dance (6 page)

There was certainly nothing frightening about the boy emperor, Cho-tsing. They had to greet him with the ritual of obeisance, but after that informality was the order of the day. He proved, in fact, to be an unassuming, almost diffident character.

This emerged clearly when it came to playing games. There was, for instance, a ball game played in something like a squash court, in which you hit the ball with a bat strapped to the lower arm. He introduced them to this but was not himself very good at it. He demonstrated it playing against one of the guards, and it was obvious at once that the guard was playing for him to win. Simon, when the Emperor asked him to take the guard's place, started on the same tack, but after a few minutes, in the excitement of the game, found himself playing naturally, which meant outplaying the Son of Heaven. A warning call from Brad, who was a spectator, brought him up short, and he resumed his previous tactic. But the Emperor stopped the game and, shaking his head in a very unimperial way, told him to play his best.

He had been, as far as they could tell, totally deprived of companions of his own age—indeed, of any real companions—and it was surprising that, despite this, he could adapt so well to the concept of give and take. He seemed quite content to accept being beaten by Simon and subsequently by Brad. They were both naturally better than he was, and after a time, in fact, on the Emperor's suggestion,
they played more often against one another while he watched and cheerfully applauded.

The situation was somewhat different with chess, which they played on a gold and silver squared board, with pieces carved from light and dark jade. There Simon was weakest, Brad and Cho-tsing more of an equal match. But there, too, after Brad had taken the measure of the Emperor's play, he began to win consistently and again without any sign of resentment from his high-born opponent.

The chess games tended to be drawn out, and during them Simon amused himself slamming a ball round the court, or teasing and being teased by the palace monkeys. These wore jewelled leather jackets, were noisy and lively, and could be vicious. Though not, Simon noticed, with Cho-tsing, who was gentle with them and to whom they were unfailingly gentle in return. He was plainly fond of them, and they of him—Simon wondered if anyone else here was.

It was not that he was short of company. Apart from the Lord Chancellor, a frequent visitor, there were the ladies of the court who lived in adjoining palaces. His mother, also quiet and gentle, was a small plump woman, the Lady Cho Pi. He also had
dozens of aunts and female cousins, chattering and giggling behind their fans. And after they had been in the palace a few days, they were summoned to the presence of the Lady Lu T'Sa, the Dowager Empress.

Her palace was almost as grand as the Emperor's, lavishly decorated in ivory and jade and silver. She perched on an ebony and ivory throne, a tiny figure swathed in a cloak of green brocade studded with a swarm of silver dragonflies, wearing a high green headdress with ropes of amber and garnet beads. Her face was small and wrinkled—they guessed she was Cho-tsing's grandmother, or possibly his great-grandmother. After she had questioned them in a thin rasping voice, she called Cho-tsing to private audience, and he was a long time absent.

Brad said: “Did you see the way she and Yuan Chu looked at one another? No love lost there. Rivals, I'd guess, and in quite a serious way.”

“Rivals?”

“The one person who doesn't have power here is Cho-tsing. He's been Emperor since he was a child, but the Lady Lu T'Sa's been in charge of things. She means to keep it like that, but I've a notion Yuan Chu may have other ideas. She mistrusts him, and therefore mistrusts us, since he's
introduced us to the palace. Those questions, wanting to know exactly which part of the Western empire we came from . . . and that remark at the end—that she'd met other Lomani in her long life, but we were different . . .”

“If she does mistrust us, does it mean we could be in trouble?”

“I don't think right now, but it bears watching.”

Simon thought about it. “Do you think Yuan Chu did have some special reason for bringing us into the palace? And if so, what?”

“Probably yes to the first. On the second, I don't know. It may be connected with our not being hypnotizable, but it could also be that he thought he might be able to control Cho-tsing through us, if we became his friends. And that he was ripe for a change from all these women around him.”

“There are a lot of women,” Simon added, as a random thought. “And they all walk funny.”

“It's their feet.”

“Is it?” Simon frowned. “You can't
see
their feet, with those dresses sweeping the floor.”

“You aren't supposed to—feet are the big taboo. But if you could see them you'd understand about
the walk. It's called the lily walk and comes from having their feet tightly bound when they're small. They turn into little hooves.”

“I've seen Madam Butterfly's feet. They're normal—a bit big, actually.”

“It doesn't apply to the lower classes. A serving woman, like a man, needs feet she can use. A noble lady doesn't need to do anything, or even walk far—there's always someone to carry her. Did you notice the long fingernails, too? In our world, some Chinese ladies had nails so long they couldn't do
anything,
even feed themselves.”

“But why? To prove they were ladies?”

“And because the men found it attractive.”

“Attractive?” Simon pulled a face.

“It's all relative. Beauty's an illusion, isn't it?”

•  •  •

There was a banquet that evening, at which the Emperor sat surrounded by the ladies of the court. The only male near was the Lord Chancellor, seated at his left hand. The Lady Lu T'Sa was on his right. Simon and Brad were at the far end of the long table, which suited Simon: whatever might be going on between the Lord Chancellor and the Dowager
Empress, he was happy to be away from the scene of the action.

The food was good, though Simon still found chopsticks difficult, and the succession of tiny cups of tea became boring. He guessed there would be entertainment later and wondered what kind—dancers, jugglers, musicians? Musicians did appear and took up positions near the head of the table, but what followed was more surprising. Serving girls went round extinguishing the lamps, leaving just two burning on bronze pillars in the centre of the room. The ladies' chatter subsided into an expectant silence; and into the remaining pool of light came neither dancers nor jugglers, but the priest, Bei Tsu.

Solemnly he intoned prayers to the Great Spirit, first of all first minds. He made rapid complicated twirling motions with his wand. Then he put out the remaining lamps.

In total darkness, the musicians struck up jangling music: there were strings and some wind instrument playing wailing half-tones, irregularly punctuated by a drum. After some time, to Simon's relief, it ceased, leaving a silence that seemed deeper
and more absolute than before. He wondered what came next, and went on wondering as moments ticked into minutes. Suddenly there was a scratch of flint on metal, a spark, the glow of a taper. The priest relit the lamps. Turning back to face the top of the banqueting table, he said: “The manifestations of first mind are thwarted by hostile thoughts. This accords with the law of suggestion, as pronounced by the sage, Bei-Kun.”

The serving girls were relighting the other lamps. The priest turned to the other end of the table and fixed his eyes accusingly on Brad and Simon.

“The spirits of wind and fire turn away from the earthbound ones and absent themselves.”

A further silence followed. Simon wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or apprehensive: since he had no idea what he might have done wrong, he could think of no way of putting it right. He glanced along the table. Yuan Chu was impassive, but Cho-tsing looked worried. It was the Dowager Empress, though, who spoke.

“The earthbound ones will leave the room,” the Lady Lu T'Sa said. “Begone, Lomani!”

•  •  •

Brad was as baffled as Simon by what had happened. They agreed the only thing they could do was wait and see what came next. In the morning, as usual, they were summoned into the presence of the Son of Heaven.

Cho-tsing behaved as though the incident hadn't occurred. They accompanied him to his favourite pool, where Brad had been teaching him the crawl stroke. It was made of pink and white marble with a green jade rim, set in a small forest of miniature trees and starlike flowers. When they were lying in the sun after swimming, Brad asked about the previous evening: in what way had they offended?

Cho-tsing smiled, and shook his head.

“You do not understand the Laws of Bei-Kun, B'lad.”

“So explain them.”

“It is too difficult, I think.” He paused. “Tell me about your land, the country of the Lomani.”

“Tell you what?”

“Everything.”

Brad shook his head, in turn. “There's too much.”

“That is the problem. Our beginnings lie very far
apart and cannot be brought together. It is enough that you have come here, over many thousands of leagues. Of that I am glad.”

The words were spoken quietly, but with conviction. It was a remark that Simon, accustomed to the unsentimental and unemotional nature of his association with Brad, would have expected to find embarrassing, but he did not. He felt instead a wave of affection for this thin boy, ruler—so-called—of the farflung empire of the East. And felt pity also. Being emperor meant, inevitably, being used by others. He had nothing, including the companionship he had found with them, which was not at risk.

•  •  •

They were again at the pool, three days later, when they were visited by the priest. They had tired of swimming and were amusing themselves in the shallower part, trying to catch the fish which darted round their feet. Bei Tsu called them, and they left the pool reluctantly. The visit was probably, Simon thought, aimed at Brad and him—probably another lecture on the Laws of Bei-Kun was in prospect.

He was right in the first part of the surmise, wrong in the second. Bei Tsu informed them that a
decision had been taken. The Lomani were to go to the Bonzery of Grace, where they would receive instruction from the priests of Bei-Kun.

“No,” Cho-tsing said. “I do not wish this.”

He looked very young, with a yellow drying robe over his narrow shoulders, twisting his hands together.

“It is necessary.”

“But at least not yet!”

“They are to go today, Celestial One.”

“I will speak with the Lord Chancellor.”

Bei Tsu looked at him impassively.

“It is the Lady Lu T'Sa's command.”

Cho-tsing's shoulders drooped, and he said no more.

T
HE CANAL STARTED NOT FAR
from the imperial city of Li Nan and ran northwest across the broad Kiangsu plain. Green paddy fields, dotted with labouring coolies of both sexes, stretched away on either side. It was a very wide canal: their barge, which was itself large, fitted with a lugsail and also manned by oarsmen, ten to a side, rocked in the wake of a passing steam-driven freight barge at least forty yards long.

Simon said: “I still don't understand why she was so determined to get us away. Just because Bei Tsu thought we mucked up the stunts at the banquet?”

“I doubt it. She wanted us away from the Son of Heaven, more likely.”

“Why? She didn't think we were a danger to him, surely?”

“She may have thought we might give him ideas.”

“About what?”

“I don't know,” Brad said. “Yes, I do. About anything. As it is, he's surrounded by guards and eunuchs and aunts—no one near his own age. It all helps keep him under control, and keeping the Son of Heaven under control is the name of the game.”

The day was overcast, grey but not cold. The oarsmen were sweating. Simon said: “She didn't need to send us to the Bonzery of Grace. She could have had us killed. I'd think she's capable of it.”

“Very capable,” Brad agreed. “But she knew he liked us. It could have been risking trouble, even with someone as docile as Cho-tsing. Whereas he couldn't object to something done in the name of Bei-Kun. Mind you, out of sight is out of mind.”

Simon looked alarmed. “You don't think? . . .”

“No.” Brad nodded towards one of the guards who were accompanying them, along with Bei Tsu. “They wouldn't have bothered putting us on board—we
could have been killed just outside the city wall. We're heading for the bonzery, all right.”

“And religious instruction? That doesn't exactly turn me on.”

“Better than death by torture for being bad influences on the Son of Heaven. It might be interesting in a way. We might even discover what the Laws of Bei-Kun are about.”

Simon shook his head. “I can get by without that.”

•  •  •

The barge travelled slowly north. Their canal met and crossed the turbulent waters of the Yangtse and debouched eventually into the Yellow River. Their course was westwards now, and on a bright morning they left the barge at a village on the river's north bank and struck inland. Brad and Simon and the priest were supplied with mules; the guards travelled on foot. The road was reasonably good at first, with a fair amount of horse and ox traffic; but gradually they advanced into the foothills of a mountain range, and the road dwindled into a track. There were fewer travellers, then none.

They spent a chilly night by the side of the trail
and in the morning were surrounded by mist which showed no signs of lifting. After breakfasting on cold rice and dried fish, they resumed their journey on a path which climbed steadily higher. It was impossible to see more than a yard or two on either side. Progress was tedious, and Simon found himself nodding off from time to time. In the middle of the day, a pale disk of sun briefly offered glimpses of mountain spurs, twisted trees, the gleam of a tumbling waterfall. They refilled water bottles there and rested the animals.