Taming Poison Dragons (26 page)

‘Do not be so foolish!’ I cried. ‘You act as if you were a man.’

‘I have the spirit of a man,’ she said. ‘It is only with you I feel like a woman, and that has been stolen from me.’

If I had not known better, I would have feared for Lord Xiao then. But she was only a singing girl. What could she do?

‘That was a stupid thing,’ I said, kissing her wounded hand. ‘So beautiful a hand should be treasured with gentleness. You hurt yourself for no reason. Go home, my love. Read my letter. Make me proud of you, by being happy.’

I turned to P’ei Ti.

‘Oh, my friend, watch out for her until I return!’

He bowed in grave assent. That bow reassured me more than a thousand words.

When I tried to mount my horse, the beast at once sensed who was master, and threw me to the dusty ground. A crowd of on-lookers had gathered, and they roared with laughter. Among them, watching with his usual small smile, stood Secretary Wen.

Mi Feng helped me into the saddle and we rode away. I glanced back only once. Su Lin and P’ei Ti were watching until I could be seen no more. Both were weeping. No magic potion of powdered jade and gold and dragon bones was needed to read their thoughts. It was strange to be considered already dead, when young and full of life.

‘. . . The sly pheasant boasts six raw talons.
Our mulberry tree has countless roots.
The general’s chariot tinkles with pendants of jade.
 Rocks are our jewels, green bamboo our brocade. . .’

I am woken from my memories by a scraping noise, and peer round in confusion. I try to rise from the couch. The floor is no longer dappled by afternoon light, as it was when I began to doze. Hours have passed. Now dusk seeps shadow across the room. It takes a moment to locate the source of the scraping sound. When I do, it seems best not to move at all.

A tousled head slowly pokes through the window, pushing aside the paper curtain. The man’s cheeks are grimy and pinched, starved of rations. Dark eyes glitter, searching the shadows. Then he spots me, where I lie on the couch.

The fellow is a third my age, and four times as desperate.

*

I should stand up, shout for help, but I’m paralysed. His eyes flick anxiously round the room, falling on my three bronze-bound chests. Then with a slow, crab-like movement, he starts to clamber in through the window.

Beneath his cloak I recognise a uniform – one of Youngest Son’s rabble – and the hilt of a sword. At last, I find the courage to act.

‘Eldest Son!’ I bellow. ‘Help! Come quickly!’

The looter hesitates. Once again he glances desperately at the chests. Perhaps he imagines they are crammed with gold and precious things, enough for him to flee into the mountains and set up as a landowner, far from the Winged Tigers Regiment and General An Shu’s rebellion.

Enough to purchase a wife and home. Enough to make him a proper man.

‘Father! What is it?’

Feet can be heard in the corridor. Exclamations of surprise. For a moment the young soldier hesitates, casting a final, longing look at the chests. Then he slides back over the window-sill, jumping to the ground. I stumble after him, but all I can see when I reach the window is a bounding form, vanishing into the stands of bamboo beside Three-Step-House. I turn to find Eldest Son beside me, his face full of concern.

‘Your brother cannot control his own men,’ I say, feebly. ‘Order the servants to bar all the shutters and doors.’

I am disconsolate over my dinner, and eat alone. This third day of occupation has been the most terrible – and still it is not over. First the Four Punishments in the village square, then the alarm of a desperate intruder. In addition, Wudi tells me that the girl who vanished from the village two nights ago, when the soldiers had their fun, has still not been found. We all fear the worst.

Eldest Son requested permission to retire early. The day’s events have wounded him more than he possesses eloquence to express. He always counted it a blessing to dote on Youngest Son. Thus good becomes its opposite.

Who can explain why the companion of his childhood exists no more, and has been replaced by General An-Shu’s executioner? To do so would baffle a thousand sages. He must acquire acceptance in his own way.

The servants lay out plain dishes. Steamed rice. A sauce of soy and chervils. Cabbage flavoured with vinegar. Salt fish fried in garlic and ginger. The steward has informed me that, since the banquet for Youngest Son and his officers, our stores are sadly depleted. Soon we will dine on a handful of sprouting millet and be thankful for it – war is the enemy of the simplest satisfactions. There is no prospect of fresh supplies from the village. The soldiers devour like a cloud of locusts, and I do not care to think what will happen in a day or so when Wei is finally stripped bare. A hundred atrocities must surely follow.

Halfway through the meal, a servant sidles into the room and whispers to the steward, who also serves as my butler. Ever since the Four Punishments, my entire household is jumpy. My own servants fear me. After all, a word to Youngest Son and who knows what he might do? The steward edges before me.

‘Lord Yun Cai, your son awaits your pleasure at the gatehouse.’

I blink at him.

‘Which one?’ I ask.

He struggles to find the correct title, poor man. His father was butler to my own father.

‘Your youngest,’ he says.

‘Ah.’

I continue to lift rice to my mouth. Courtesy demands I leave my meal and greet him at the gate. Youngest Son has lost the right to courtesy.

‘What message shall I give, Lord?’ asks the steward.

‘Tell him he may share my dinner.’

The fellow nods, hurries away.

A few minutes later Youngest Son enters the room. I do not look up from my bowl of salt-fish.

‘Father!’ he calls from the doorway.

Without further acknowledgement, I gesture at the food with my chopsticks. Youngest Son clanks across the room, wearing a hauberk of iron squares sewn on leather. A sword hangs from his belt. I am surprised he didn’t feel the need to bring a loaded crossbow.

He waits for me to speak. At least it is within my power to deny him this satisfaction. After a minute he takes a seat and the butler rushes forward to fill more bowls.

Neither of us chooses to speak before the servants.

The meal is finished. Still ignoring him, I belch and sigh; wipe my lips with a napkin. Then I gaze out of the window. Cloud banks are gathering over the peaks we call Three Widows, threatening rain if they blow this way.

Crows wheel high above the valley, circle slowly then descend towards the village. No doubt they hope to peck for morsels in the square. I sense Youngest Son’s restlessness beside me; he has never been one to benefit from silence, though I often advised him that silence is where a wise man hears the most. At last he scowls.

‘Father,’ he says. ‘I can tell you are angry about the justice meted out today. That is a great fault in you.’

I can contain myself no longer. Let him administer the Four Punishments on me, for all I care!

‘Who are you to tell me I am at fault?’ I demand. ‘On what authority? Have you no respect, no decency, to address your own father in this way? You have shown me discourtesy after discourtesy since returning to Wei. Do not talk to
me
of fault, when you embody it!’

He is taken aback, but soon bridles.

‘You are wrong again, Father. A man’s first loyalty is to the state, and the ruler of the state. This duty over-rides all others. General An-Shu is wise. All will acknowledge him as their father, even you. I have merely been doing my duty.’

I snort.

‘What of your family?
That
is an upright man’s first duty.’

He shakes his head, no longer angry. How soon his moods change direction, like a hot wind! Youngest Son leans forward eagerly, and I realise he wishes to correct my errors, to offer me instruction.

‘General An-Shu has taught all his officers to expect incomprehension,’ he says. ‘That is only natural.
Where
ignorance runs deep, many will not understand
, he has said. The General warned us to expect this, so I do not blame you entirely, Father.’

‘What nonsense you have been taught.’

‘Not nonsense, Father. These are new ways, new times.’

I drink a cup of wine with unsteady hands.

‘There you show your ignorance, boy. The General’s ideas are old and stale. They date back to the tyranny of Shang in the time of Zhou. Their author, Shang Yang, was beheaded for his troubles and the world clapped its hands for joy. Did the general tell you
that
?’

He nods happily.

‘We have been told everything. Not that, exactly, but everything we need to know. It is our destiny, His Highness’ destiny. All will learn this! Can’t you see the future, Father? Can’t you feel it gathering around you?

Why, the General will seize the capital and proclaim himself the Son of Heaven! Then he shall no longer be General An-Shu, but the founder of a dynasty to endure a thousand years!’

His voice lacks balance. Has he been drinking? Perhaps he is drunk on something more dangerous than wine. I must counter with calmness.

‘Were the scenes in the village square a foretaste of his great dynasty?’ I ask.

‘Of course! Only through the harshest punishments may order be maintained. One’s duty can be painful, but only the disloyal flinch.’

I do not mention that he seemed to enjoy his duty today.

‘Peace will never come from such a system of rule. If you had studied history thoroughly, instead of believing the words of a. . . of the General, you would know that repression breeds only sorrow, cruelty merely engenders more cruelty, until the tyrannical state chokes on the blood it has shed and expires. There are patterns to history, as in nature.’

Youngest Son tightens his fists. He is not used to hearing his precious truths disputed. Good. It is time the boy learned how civilised men weigh ideas.

‘Take the Four Punishments,’ I continue. ‘I assume you were acting out the General’s commands?’

‘Of course,’ he says, haughtily. ‘All deserters are to be punished in the severest way. That is the new law.’

‘Are there to be no exceptions? Or courts? Or evidence?

Or shades of wrong? Just terrible punishments?’

‘They got what they deserved,’ he says.

‘Did they truly deserve that? Look into your soul! There you will find the truth. Subtle, baffling, glimmers of truth.

Does not your heart tell you that the new law, in this case, is excessive?’

‘Men’s hearts are bad!’ he exclaims, angrily. ‘Only through punishment, the harshest punishment, will order thrive. Everyone knows that.’

‘Should we not encourage virtue by watering it like a tender plant?’ I reply. ‘There is goodness in all souls.

Indeed, evil deeds often flow from a man’s circumstances, or companions. We must maintain the natural way, then men are not led towards evil.’

I could point out that when he committed a crime, a capital crime, those who loved him averted the law. I could mention we hoped he would learn gentler ways, that we believed in his essential virtue. But I forebear.

‘Look at my men,’ he continues. ‘They obey every instruction because they know what will happen if they don’t.’

‘If only this were true!’ I sigh.

Then I tell him of the intruder in my bedchamber that afternoon – the Four Punishments did not deter
him
.

Youngest Son blusters that he will post a guard around Three-Step-House, yet I do not speak my thought aloud: who will protect us from such protectors?

He bolts down a cup of wine. Then another. The conversation has clearly taken turns he did not anticipate.

I press my advantage.

‘Your dear mother had a kind heart,’ I say, gently. ‘Do you remember how she helped those who were needy, whether they deserved it or not? Think of the seasons.

Winter’s punishments are accidental, and wholly a consequence of the Way.’

‘I have heard enough, Father!’ he snaps.

‘But consider. . .’

‘No! I will listen no more. Your words border on treason. No wonder the General has warned us to distrust adder-tongued scholars.’

I sigh, settle back in my chair. I cannot hate him, though his instincts have grown hateful. His precious General is the one I detest. Vile corrupter of youth, thief of my son.

‘Your views sadden me,’ I say. ‘When you are older, I believe they will seem strange to you. I dearly hope so.’

‘Then you hope in vain,’ he says, rising to his feet.

His sword knocks a bowl off the table. It clatters and breaks into shards.

‘I am disappointed, Father. This should have been a glad meeting, for I bring happy news. Before I left the temporary capital at Chunming, I persuaded one of the officials to summon you to court, so you might pay homage to His Highness. Perhaps he will grant you an official position.’

‘What!’

‘I see that the influence I possess surprises you!’ he continues.

‘You took it upon yourself to offer me as one of the General’s officials? Are you mad, boy!’

‘You should be grateful, but you are not!’

‘I’m not grateful, that is certain.’

‘Have you no pride, Father? Do you not resent the Emperor’s lackeys for banishing you? I cannot understand you.’

I shake my head vigorously.

‘Long ago I reconciled myself to my banishment. This news alarms me deeply. Send word at once to Chunming and have the summons rescinded.’

‘That is not possible.’

‘Tell them I am sick. Tell them I sit in a corner all day dribbling. I will help you to compose the letter.’

‘I will not disobey my orders,’ he counters. ‘Besides, my officers have witnessed your good health. They would report my lie and that I had wilfully defied an instruction.’

‘Then tonight I shall catch the plague!’ I say.

‘No, Father. I will not fail in my duty.’

His voice has grown obdurate and proud. Finally I realise the truth. Youngest Son would burn the whole of Wei to possess the glorious future he imagines for himself.

But there may be other motives.