Taming Poison Dragons (62 page)

There will be no submission this time. He stands upright and glares like an angry judge. Above our heads the monkeys shriek and jabber. I realise they have been following our progress up the ravine.

The Empress-in-waiting regards us. The kohl on her eyelids has run, perhaps from weeping. She struggles to speak. Another two lancers trot up to join their comrades.

Still the Ensign Tzi-Lu remains immoveable, barring their way.

‘You!’ accuses the Empress-in-waiting.

Her voice echoes round the barren rocks. A cry of wounded disappointment.

‘Kill them!’ she shrieks, jabbing her finger at P’ei Ti.

Unexpectedly another voice rings out.

‘No!’

It belongs to Yuan Chu-Sou. His hasty departure from Chunming can only mean one thing. The battle was not won by General An-Shu. The rumour we heard was false and the Son of Heaven has been victorious. I see from P’ei Ti’s expression that he comprehends the truth and the irony of our situation.

‘No!’ repeats Yuan Chu-Sou. ‘We must take His Excellency P’ei Ti as a hostage.’

The rebels look uneasily among themselves, uncertain who is in charge. The Empress-in-waiting frowns at being contradicted but she is only a woman, her power borrowed from General An-Shu. And there is no sign of him.

‘Seize Second Chancellor P’ei Ti!’ urges Yuan Chu-Sou.

The soldiers edge their horses forward. Yuan Chu-Sou raises his hand to delay them.

‘Kill all but the old man in blue,’ he says. ‘Harm him and you’ll be flayed alive. Do it quickly!’

The soldiers trot forward and draw their swords.

Golden Bells squeals beside me. His weapon clatters on the flinty ground. He has decided to die without a fight. It will be quicker that way. Still the gallant Ensign does not move. The flickering of his eyes betrays that he is deciding where to launch himself.

I shrink against the wall and take P’ei Ti’s arm. No words are exchanged. What is left to say?

Then I become aware of a distant noise. A drumming sound. Everyone present pauses, and turns. The cavalry try to wheel their horses in the narrow space. An armoured rider appears, followed by another, and another. Their flag is the Son of Heaven’s. I thrust P’ei Ti into the dirt. Hooves kick up spurts of dust. A brief clash of weapons follows, making the narrow ravine ring with noise and shouts. Horses rear in panic.

When the dust blows away our situation is entirely reversed. Imperial cavalry hold a dozen prisoners and the Ensign Tzi-Lu is wiping his sword on a dead man’s robes.

The captives are on their knees; P’ei Ti confers with an officer who dare not look him in the face. His exhaustion has vanished. The resumption of power is like a rejuve-nating drug.

I lean against a boulder with Golden Bells. Once more we are irrelevant. Perhaps we always were, for hidden within the hours of our usefulness lay a future where we do not matter. It is no hardship to resume one’s natural state.

At last P’ei Ti comes over. His is a weathered face, duty and care have dried his skin to the colour of parchment.

On that scroll I read a fierce determination so powerful that he seems a stranger to me.

‘Yun Cai,’ he says.

I remember his youthful tone. His voice was kinder when we were young.

‘You have saved me,’ he says. ‘I honour you.’

Abruptly the ravine fills with cries of amazement, even wonder. For His Excellency P’ei Ti, Second Chancellor to the Son of Heaven, struggles to his knees before me and bows, lowering his forehead until it touches the earth.

Everyone present is obliged to do the same. I drag him up, my cheeks crimson. We totter in each other’s arms.

‘Will we never learn?’ I chide, laughing hoarsely.

P’ei Ti does not smile. He is all business now.

‘I have ordered half of these men to ride with you. They will ensure General An-Shu’s cavalry do not punish your family. You should accompany them in the General’s chariot.’

I nod gratefully. He has read my dearest wish.

‘As for me,’ he says. ‘I shall return to Chunming to ensure proper rule commences. I hear that the rebels have been soundly defeated and the General captured. We must part now. Remember this, old friend, that I shall honour my promise to visit you in Wei Valley, as soon as my duties allow.’

I look at the prisoners kneeling in the dirt: the Lady Ta Chi and her Head Eunuch; the Excellent Yuan Chu-Sou and the other courtiers. My own words haunt me: no man is born wicked, only circumstances make him so. P’ei Ti follows my glance and shrugs.

‘I must use their carriages, there is no room for them.’

He turns to meet Yuan Chu-Sou’s brooding gaze. Then P’ei Ti leans forward, clicking his fingers as I saw Yuan Chu-Sou do in Chunming, and a cruel understanding passes between the two men. I look away as the inevitable follows. There are subtleties in such matters, as in anything. Was it necessary to sever his head? No doubt it was.

The Lady Ta Chi’s screams, her excuses and pleading fill the ravine. Soon a dozen heads are rolled onto her silken robe and tied into a lumpy bundle. Within a few hours they will adorn the walls of Chunming as a warning. Is it cynical to detect another motive? P’ei Ti is eliminating any who might report his homage to General An-Shu.

I mount the ivory chariot and Golden Bells stands beside me. The horses are whipped forward. Swept along by a stream of cavalry we gallop towards Wei.

I close my eyes. Hours blur. When I open them the land may be glimpsed by a little starlight, occasional appearances of the moon between wind-driven clouds. General An-Shu’s chariot, pulled by two fierce horses, carries me nearer and nearer to the end of my fears. I perch on a small seat, Golden Bells crouching beside me, while the driver whips on our horses. Before and behind us dozens of lancers ride in loose formation, cantering at a pace ruinous to the health of their mounts. But His Excellency P’ei Ti has issued orders. There are consequences for failing to satisfy such commands. The officer in charge is especially zealous. He rides a dozen yards ahead of his troops, drawing them onwards.

So acute is my discomfort that I have no leisure for thought, except of an unwelcome kind. Visions of what we will find in Wei sicken my soul, but I cling to my seat and anticipate the next jolt. I dare not anticipate more.

Yet I have discovered a new fear: that General An-Shu’s men will not only execute my family but that my poems, my precious sheaves of poems, will burn alongside them.

Ignoble to compare the two losses, yet a thought cannot help itself.

At last, toward the middle of the night, the officer calls a halt in a roadside village. His horses and men must rest for a while.

The village is silent as my chariot rolls to a stop. I glance back the way we have come. A climbing hill road, with the land falling away behind us. My eyes are drawn to the sky. Black monsoon clouds pursue us. If the rain breaks while we are still on the road it will become a quagmire, our pace a laborious trot and all hope of reaching Wei at daybreak must be abandoned. But for now the sky is clear above our heads. We must not delay here.

Agitated, I step down from the chariot. At once my legs buckle and I am on my knees, panting. Golden Bells tries to raise me to my feet. I groan in protest. The cavalry officer appears by my side.

‘Lord Yun Cai,’ he says, embarrassed by my undignified posture. ‘We have not arrived yet.’

I flash him a hard look. I’m limp as an old fish.

‘That is obvious, young man.’

‘Forgive me, sir, quite so.’

He looks round and orders his sergeants to wake the peasants. There is a pounding on doors and requisitioning of fodder for the horses. I remain on my knees until strong enough to return to the chariot. Then the officer is before me again.

‘How far is your home, sir?’ he asks.

I name the distance and he scowls.

‘His Excellency P’ei Ti informed me that the enemy are a day’s ride ahead of us,’ he says. ‘We can hardly hope to catch them, yet that is my order. This is an impossible duty!’

‘Perhaps they travelled slowly,’ I say.

‘Well, that’s easily found out.’

A villager is dragged before us by two burly cavalrymen. An old man. And quaking.

‘Are you the headman?’ I demand.

He nods, afraid to speak.

‘Have horsemen passed this way?’

‘Sir, the horsemen asked for the road to Wei,’ he says.

‘How many were there?’

‘Thirty, maybe more.’ He leans forward conspiratorially. ‘They looked like barbarians to me, my Lord.’

I exchange glances with the officer. Our enemies sound like the mercenary archers hired by General An-Shu’s brother. The captain does not seem pleased.

‘When did they pass through?’ he asks.

‘At dusk.’

‘Were they in a hurry?’

Everything depends on his answer. Yet it comes as a relief, for the old hetman shakes his head.

‘They stayed here for several hours and cooked every last hen we own!’

Half an hour later our troop has re-assembled. The officer and I agree there is still hope. If General An-Shu’s men have travelled slowly we may yet catch them before they reach Wei. They may even have camped at the head of the valley, hoping to surprise the village at dawn.

Our journey flows through nightmare. It requires all my strength to remain seated in the chariot. One wheel wobbles alarmingly on its axle. Towards dawn we leave the high road and enter the lowest reaches of Wei. The valley rolls with mist, reducing vision to a dozen yards. I pass familiar hills and slopes, listening to birds and monkeys as they greet the swelling day. The road is empty except for a confusion of hoof prints in the earth. We advance cautiously, hoping to catch the enemy unawares.

A few
li
from the village we come across the remains of a hastily-constructed camp. A sergeant dismounts to inspect the fires and kicks up glowing embers. Dawn is spreading rapidly across the eastern horizon. Behind us banks of cloud threaten rain, almost upon us now. The cavalry officer canters over to me.

‘Lord Yun Cai, you must take the rear and only enter the village when it is secure. Although we appear to outnumber the rebels nothing must be taken for granted.’

I discern from his expression that he seeks my approval.

After all, His Excellency P’ei Ti bowed low before me. A cruel logic fills my mind.

‘Captain,’ I say. ‘I expect every one of you to give up your lives to save my family. The Second Chancellor expects nothing less. Otherwise your own families will pay for your negligence.’

So I resort to the same threats as General An-Shu! The captain bows stiffly then hurries to his horse. He turns to address his exhausted men.

‘Any who show cowardice shall die at my own hand!’

he roars, glancing in my direction for approval. I glower implacably.

He orders the ranks and gallops up the road through swirling mist toward the village. Distorted shapes surround us. I nod to the driver and we follow at a cautious trot.

‘Lord Yun Cai,’ says Golden Bells. ‘I can smell something.’

‘Smoke,’ I say, dully. ‘They’ve set fire to the village.’

As we ride into Wei, it becomes obvious we are too late.

The street is full of mist and smoke. A dozen houses are ablaze. We choke and the horses neigh fearfully. Fighting men appear through the gloom: Imperial cavalry clashing with General An-Shu’s troops and, a little further on, a group of peasants dragging down a mounted archer, hacking at him with axes and spades.

Suddenly the captain appears beside the chariot. An arrow hangs from his saddle. In one hand he grips a sword, the other holds a bloodied lance. All around us are shouts, whinnies and screams.

‘Where is your house?’ he splutters as dense smoke billows over us.

‘Up the hill! Follow me!’

I urge the driver forward. At first he refuses, then takes one look at the cavalry forming into a column. We canter up the hill and break through the mist clinging to the valley bottom. Three-Step-House is revealed and I cry out.

They have reached my home. The gate stands open and soldiers have set alight the lower buildings. As I watch, they are dragging out servants to question them, overseen by a man in an administrator’s uniform. Who they seek needs no guessing. Others are climbing inexorably to the topmost house, our family quarters, swords and torches in hand. I shriek like a man consumed by demons.

‘Stop this!’

My voice echoes amidst the sound of crackling wood, flames and battle in the village below. The cavalry charge forward, outstripping the chariot. As we approach the gatehouse, one of the chariot’s wheels hits a pothole, bending at an absurd angle. We scrape to a halt, horses stumbling. Golden Bells and I are thrown to the ground.

When I recover my breath, Three-Step-House is masked by the smoke of its own burning.

No thought now. Up the hill. Step by step. Past the gate gods and tangles of fighting, struggling men. I am beyond fear. I scale steps slippery with blood and reach the Middle House where Mother used to sew and Father held audience. An arrow thuds into the wall beside me. Ignore it. Up the next flight of steps towards the screams coming from the top-most house. Is that Daughter-in-law’s voice?

But she is safe in Whale Rock Monastery. Let it just be a maid’s! A handful of soldiers are setting fire to the roof with their torches. Another arrow skims past. I hear a cry behind me. Then I’m running round the house to a side entrance. The air is dark with smoke. How soon my past burns! Suddenly a new terror grips me. My chest of poems! My poems will burn. I must save my poems.

When I struggle through the side door, I find Eldest Son, sheltering his sons with out-stretched arms. Daughter-in-law crouches, trying to calm the children.

‘Why are you not at the monastery?’ I bellow.

He shrinks back in surprise.

‘Father! I thought it was safe to return.’

‘Go up to the orchard! Hide in the family shrine.

Everyone. At once!’

One by one the children flit through the door and up the hill, Daughter-in-law follows close behind. Sounds of fighting draw near. Eldest Son hovers, eager to join his family.

‘Help me!’ I command.