Taming Poison Dragons (27 page)

‘So this is how you punish me,’ I murmur.

He is already half way across the room, his horseman’s boots echoing.

I sit, hands folded on my lap. For the first time I am truly afraid. Heed your own wisdom, I tell myself, inhabit what is, not imagined fears.

The night-rain enters my dreams, running down the eaves in tiny rivulets, hurrying drops, a constant whisper. My dreams are angry, full of eyes. The deserters dismembered once again in the village square until they form a mound of limbs and torsos and organs and grinning heads.

Though I protest in a strained, querulous voice, the body parts begin to move and re-assemble – head to arm-socket, leg to severed nose – crawling in confusion like startled ants.

‘This is not natural!’ I rail. ‘This is an affront to the Way! Oh, when will we learn?’

Their strange dance continues. Then I realise I am not in Wei at all, but on the large parade ground before the Prefect’s residence in Chunming!

I wake covered in sweat. The room is dark. A smell of rain seeps through the rafters. I listen to its irregular tap, opposing distress with measured breaths, emptying my mind until a space is formed where sleep gathers. The hours drag towards sunrise.

It is the fourth dawn since the soldiers marched into Wei Valley. I watch from the gatehouse, pleased to see them march away. But they are only continuing their search for the cavalrymen further up the valley, not returning to Chunming. Perhaps I should be pleased. When they finally leave for Chunming, I must go with them.

Youngest Son is at their head, as usual, implacable on his white horse, drummers all around him. How he loves a loud noise! Perhaps he hopes to frighten away evil spirits. Or thoughts. Certainly he is surrounded by threats, some made worse by his own actions. Instead of wasting a whole day on fancy executions, he should have been scouring the valley. Now everyone is too terrified to offer him information. Should it prove wrong the consequences are unthinkable. Even his strictures concerning the necessity for harsh punishments work against him. If he fails to capture the cavalrymen, to succeed in his essential mission, General An-Shu’s code allows no mercy.

I am reminded of an anecdote related in a Legalist text I once perused in the Imperial Library. It concerned Prince Chao of Han, who got drunk and fell asleep on a bitterly cold night. The man entrusted with bearing his crown placed a coat over him. When the prince awoke he enquired who had covered him against the cold. On hearing it was the crown-keeper, he ordered the man’s execution. The coat-keeper, whose job it was to keep his master warm, was merely castrated. Prince Chao’s reasoning? To transgress one’s duties of office is worse than simple negligence. Thus the crown-keeper deserved the more severe punishment. One might view Youngest Son’s decision to waste a vital day in this light.

As I recollect, the author of this text also fell foul of his Emperor. After suffering the first of the Four Punishments until without nose, feet, or genitals, he was whipped and severed at the waist, all his family – parents, brothers, wife and children – were executed in strict accordance with the principles he had spent his life propounding.

By such ironies one may judge the prudence of espousing any system. Can such antique ideas really hold sway in Chunming? Youngest Son’s words seemed to indicate so. One might call General An-Shu a desperate man indeed. Or simply bad, unfit for the Mandate of Heaven.

*

Thoughts of law send me rooting about in my three chests for documents. I gather up the charter granted by General Yueh Fei to my father, confirming our family’s Lordship of Wei in perpetuity. Other papers, too, concerning our property, for the estate has grown over the years, despite my neglect. My wife’s dowry, then Daughter-in-law’s, added swathes of unproductive hillside and woodland, some of which Eldest Son has managed to bring to prof-itable cultivation. We are not rich as a result. Yet we have much to lose. Finally, I send for the steward and ask him to fetch Eldest Son.

He arrives unshaven, a beaten look about his eyes. If I had any doubts about what must happen next, his gaunt appearance settles them.

‘Sit beside me,’ I say. ‘We have much to discuss and little time.’

‘Father!’ he exclaims miserably, once seated. ‘I have heard the news that you must go to Chunming. Why does my brother hate us so?’

I purse my lips.

‘I suspect it is not hatred. More a kind of confusion.

There may be some anger, certainly, but we must try to think the best of him. We must assume he means well.’

Or pretend he does. I do not wish Eldest Son to hate his own brother. Such feelings can ruin a man’s peace.

‘I wish to talk seriously for a while, and you must listen,’ I say.

‘Yes, Father.’

‘I have not always paid you the attention you deserve. . .’ I wave my hand to silence his protests. ‘When you were young, my head and heart were full of other things. But if I can, I mean to do well by you now. See that bundle of papers? I want you to take them to Whale Rock Monastery and join Daughter-in-law there. My will and all our deeds are in that bundle, so ask the monks to guard them well. When you get there, do not return home. It is too dangerous for you to stay here. I could not bear it if harm befell you.’

‘But Father, who will look after you?’

My eyes flash.

‘I can look after myself quite well.’

‘I wish to accompany you to Chunming,’ he says, doggedly. ‘It is my duty.’

‘And I wish the opposite,’ I reply. ‘That is
my
duty.’

He sighs and lowers his head.

‘You should go at once. Thankfully your brother has neglected to enforce an embargo on all travel within the valley. Yet another mistake on his part. If you are stopped, point out you are the Captain’s brother and that you have been sent away on urgent family business. Tell them he will be angry. That should settle the matter.’

‘Are you sure I must go, Father?’

‘Do not question my instructions! Now I will say something grave. It is very possible I may never return from Chunming. You know that, don’t you?’

He nods.

‘So I want you to know this. I am very proud of you. . .’

‘How can you say that!’ he exclaims. ‘I was always too stupid to pass the examinations! I have disappointed you.’

‘Once that was true,’ I concede. ‘Since then I have learned better. You are my pride and heir, do not forget that. If I do not return, tell my grandsons about me, and my poems.’

*

‘Father, do not keep saying you won’t come back! It will bring bad luck.’

‘Perhaps. Now leave Three-Step-House. Delay only to put on your shoes. Take one of the servant boys with you.

Go with my full blessing, and tell Daughter-in-law I am particularly satisfied with her conduct.’

He hovers. I suspect he wishes to embrace me. His tears make my own eyes itch.

‘Go!’

An hour passes. I sit with hands folded on my lap, for once empty of thought, though not feeling. A knock on the door. It is Wudi. He appears pale and anxious.

‘Enter!’ I cry, relieved to have company.

‘I’m not alone, Lord,’ he says, hurriedly. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

He glances nervously over his shoulder, and bundles a large, heavily-cloaked man into the room before hastily latching the door. I look at my visitor curiously. I have seen him somewhere before. Then I remember, and my mouth goes dry.

‘I had no choice,’ whispers Wudi. ‘I found him hiding beside your family tomb. I’d gone there to measure up where I can build my own tomb, as you promised. There are soldiers all over the place!’

I meet the man’s eye. He is young and, by the look of his cheeks, hungry. My one comfort is that he does not wear his uniform, though no one would mistake him for a peasant.

‘Why are you here?’ I croak.

He lowers himself to his knees and cries: ‘Ensign Tzi-Lu, sir!’

‘Quieter!’

‘Of His Majesty’s Guard! I was instructed to pass a message to you alone, sir!’

He looks at Wudi meaningfully.

‘You may speak in front of the headman,’ I say.

‘That is against my orders. . .’

‘Damn your orders! Speak quickly, then leave my house before you bring it tumbling round my ears. What is the message?’

The Ensign Tzi-Lu nods stiffly, bringing his fists together in a salute. He rises suddenly, listening for movement in the corridor. The house creaks ominously. Then he resumes his kneeling position and lowers his head.

When he speaks again, it is in the sing-song tones of a messenger who has learned his message by heart:

‘Should the Second Chancellor to the Son of Heaven, His Noble Excellency P’ei Ti, arrive at the gate of Yun Cai of Wei, in Chunming Province, His Imperial Majesty expressly orders that his servant should return at once to the capital, without delay of any kind, and that this command be confirmed by the seal carried by this bearer.’

The Ensign Tzi-Lu proffers a small jade seal, carved with intricate characters and fletched with gold. There is a reckless courage about the man. No doubt that is why he was chosen for so insane a mission. Yet travelling through General An-Shu’s armies to Wei calls for guile as well as bravery. At last I fully understand P’ei Ti’s importance.

‘I am grateful to you for saving my life, ‘ he adds. ‘And that of my men.’

‘You are still hiding behind the waterfall?’

‘Yes. The rebels have searched the area twice, but without success. Lord Yun Cai,’ he says, passionately. ‘Please know that I have been commanded to save His Excellency at any cost. Any cost at all!’

A knock on the door – one I know well – my steward.

‘Do not enter!’ I call. ‘I am indisposed.’

I motion fearfully that the cavalry officer should hide behind my dressing screen.

‘Lord!’ calls my steward, outside the door.

‘What is it? I have told you I cannot see anyone.’

How long has he been listening by the door?

‘Lord, your youngest son has arrived in the hall. He won’t have a moment’s delay. He told me he wishes to see you.’

‘Tell him to wait in the hall.’

I hear the steward’s hurried footsteps padding down the corridor.

‘Go at once!’ I hiss. ‘Wudi, get Ensign Tzi-Lu away from Three-Step-House! I will occupy my son.’

‘Your son?’ asks the officer.

‘Is one of General An-Shu’s captains. Oh yes, now you know my predicament.’

He stiffens with suspicion.

‘Leave at once. For all our sakes.’

Wudi opens the door and peers around. The corridor is clear. He gestures to the officer who hurries after him. The door closes and I listen to the scuffle of their feet. All is silent once more. Then the sound of heavy boots in the corridor, and my door swings open without even a knock.

Youngest Son stands glaring in the doorway.

‘Father,’ he says. ‘Didn’t the steward tell you I was here?’

I fan my face with the first piece of paper to hand. A copy of the lake poem I have prepared for Lieutenant Lo.

‘What is the matter, Father?’ he demands. ‘You seem unwell.’

I cough uneasily. It is essential I detain him in my room for as long as possible.

‘Ah,’ I say. ‘Sit! Sit yourself down! I am just tired. Are you thirsty?’

He glances round the room suspiciously.

‘There is no time for that. One of my guards saw a stranger approaching Three-Step-House. The fool lost him in the bamboo grove! Have you seen any strangers?’

I gesture at the empty room. Smile blandly. It is a shameful thing when one is afraid of one’s own son.

‘Doubtless he saw a villager,’ I say.

‘No, Father, he reported a man of military bearing.’

‘Really? How curious.’

Youngest Son paces up and down. He seems to fill the room with his armour and cloak, his long sword rattling in its scabbard.

‘I take it, His Imperial Majesty’s soldiers have not been found?’

He stops pacing. Scowls.

‘You should not refer to the Usurper like that!’ he says.

‘Only General An-Shu deserves such a title. You must remember that when you are in Chunming, or. . .’

Or else? Well, he hardly needs to explain. I must keep him talking, win time.

‘Perhaps your enemies have left Wei. In which case you search in vain.’

‘That is not possible,’ he snaps. ‘The exits to the valley are guarded.’

‘You should know there are numerous routes in and out of Wei.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘I
know
they are still here. I can feel it. I must capture them, Father! It is essential for me to capture them! I have assured His Highness it will be done.’

‘Sometimes we all fail,’ I suggest. ‘What matters is how one learns from it.’

‘I will not fail!’ His voice is slightly hysterical. ‘I have not failed!’

It distresses me to see him like this. Yet the more he talks, the better hidden my unexpected visitor will be. I have no doubt Wudi is too wise to leave Three-Step-House. As a boy he learnt every corner on our cricket hunts, surely he will find a quiet hiding place for our guest.

‘What am I doing here?’ cries my son. ‘The house must be searched! Wait here, Father.’

Now my anxiety doubles.

‘Surely that is not necessary,’ I say. ‘Let me call for wine.

You can tell me about the situation in Chunming. I mean, the Temporary Capital.’

Once more he looks at me suspiciously.

‘Chunming is indeed the Temporary Capital,’ he says.

‘Of course. Sit yourself down! We have much to discuss.’

For a moment I think he will oblige. Then he remembers his intention and, without another word, stamps out of the room. I hear him bellowing orders. The sound of soldiers’ feet and clumsy hands opening doors, frightening the servants, shifting furniture and barrels. Youngest Son’s shouts rise above all. He is in a frenzy, the fever of a desperate man. Should I pretend to be an old dotard and try to frustrate them? Or should I stay here and anticipate the worst? Few know Three-Step-House better than Youngest Son. At any moment I expect to hear shouts of triumph, the sound of the Ensign Tzi-Lu being dragged forth.

Finally I can bear it no longer and make my way to the Middle House. Everywhere soldiers and their sergeants.