The Mandate of Heaven (37 page)

Despite numerous prayers, spirit-writing sessions, meditations and an attempted spirit voyage to consult the Weaver Maid in the Seven Primes, Yun Shu was no nearer a state of cosmic unfolding. Let alone a course of action. When the question remains obscure, how may one recognise the answer?

She decided to seek revelation closer to home – but not too close. Cloud Abode Monastery had become a place of droning, mournful chants ever since news of the Buddha’s knucklebone spread through the city. Every nun except Lady Lu Si and the venerable Earth Peace – who was too lost in years to retain what was going on from one hour to the next – moved round the monastery in a state of tension, muttering in groups that went quiet when the Abbess approached. Loyal supporters of the Dao came to visit the City God and offer assistance. Unfortunately Yun Shu had no idea what to do if Prince Arslan upheld the Tibetan Buddhists’ outrageous claims.

One foggy morning she donned simple robes and sturdy boots, leaving through the back entrance of the monastery, mindful of watchful eyes. Eunuch Bo-Bai, in particular, seemed to be observing her movements from dawn until dusk. Really, she would suffocate without a little fresh air – and Three Simplicities was welcome to complain about it as much as she liked.

The gate opened directly onto the woods and bamboo groves crowning Monkey Hat Hill. The trees were hung with beads of moisture and she could hear the music of busy little streams. Yun Shu took a winding path through the woods, aware the way was familiar. After a while her pace slowed, weighed down by the insinuating tongue of Three Simplicities.

‘Abbess Yun Shu,’ the nun had said, ‘my niece has told me news that may save the Monastery.’ Such an introduction provoked eager attention. The ‘news’ concerned Salt Minister Gui, who had amassed a large fortune and was using the money to establish his two sons in Dadu, the Great Khan’s capital. This information shook Yun Shu profoundly. She had not seen her brothers since they were children. Now they consorted and rode with barbarian princes!

‘So you see,’ Three Simplicities concluded, ‘perhaps your father will use his influence to help us.’ She had coughed. How delicate her coughs could be, like a spider’s nipping mandibles! ‘For his dear daughter’s sake.’

Yun Shu bit back a hasty retort, replying with dignity, ‘Three Simplicities has forgotten what everyone knows. I am sadly estranged from my father.’

As Yun Shu followed the path through the woods she realised why the way was familiar. It led to the ruined watchtower on the cliff, discovered by Teng all those years ago. Memories quickened her step until she came to the rectangle of broken walls overgrown with dense thickets. It was smaller than childhood had perceived it, the brambles tamer, more ordinary; yet recalling the pain of Father’s rejection made Yun Shu pull her headscarf tight.

She stood for a long moment, lost to anger and distress; then she noticed a young man with his back to her, seated on a pile of fallen stones, staring out at the lake. Yun Shu took a step back, snapping a twig. Startled, he reached for a sword at his belt. His hand fell and he bowed.

‘I wondered whether you ever came here,’ he said, nodding at the watchtower. ‘I felt sure you would.’

Yun Shu shivered in the dank air. ‘You are mistaken, Teng,’ she said, ‘chance not choice led me here. It is not a place I would seek out.’

‘I thought you Daoists were blown around by destiny like seeds in the breeze,’ he said, with a slight smile.

‘Which sensible person is not?’ she countered. ‘But I believe, on this occasion, destiny did not direct me here. Neither did a wish for witty conversation.’

‘Most likely you are right. Still, I believe three destinies did begin at this watchtower when we were children. Yours, mine and Hsiung’s. Why shouldn’t those destinies be happy?’

She examined his pensive face. Her eyes itched with tears she could not explain. ‘Why not,’ she said, quietly, ‘why not.’

For a long moment both examined the ruined watchtower.

‘I have never seen you with a sword before,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that illegal for scholars?’

‘Most things are. But even a scholar may wish to defend himself. Let us just say, it is prudent for me right now.’

‘How oddly you talk!’

‘No more oddly than you nuns.’ He laughed dryly. ‘And perhaps less obscurely than the revelations of the Mysterious Dao.’

She came a little closer to his seat. From the pile of stones one could look out across the lake, though not far today. Thick mists swirled over the placid waters. A dangerous perch. The cliff edge was a mere stumble away and falling on the limestone boulders below guaranteed a broken spine. She peered at the rolling wall of fog and pulled back.

‘How is your father?’ she asked.

‘Better. Thanks largely to you.’

She hesitated. The cold air had brought colour to his cheeks and the whites of his eyes were bright. She recalled how he had caught her when she slipped on the Hundred Stairs, both of them tangled in a precarious embrace. Colour warmed her own cheeks at the memory. He had felt solid and strong then. Yun Shu realised she should not be alone with him here. It was improper.

‘I shall leave you to your meditations,’ she said.

Again he laughed, and she sensed nervousness. ‘I never meditate, you know,’ he said, ‘I am too beguiled by the passing moment.’

‘Then I shall leave you to your passing moment.’

Instead of resuming his seat he came over to join her. ‘There are worse vagabonds than me loose on Monkey Hat Hill these days. Let me accompany you at a decorous distance to ensure your safety.’

So Yun Shu gained an escort. Though he stayed six feet behind, she felt conscious of his gaze on her back and allowed him to draw level.

‘Your clothes are far more creditable than when we last met,’ she said. ‘You look every inch a prosperous Deng!’

‘Appearances can lie,’ he said. ‘Even masterpieces by great painters can become lies.’

‘Oh, you’re all paradoxes today! Where, to put it plainly, has your
cash
come from? Or is that a vulgar question to ask an illustrious Deng.’

‘The answer is vulgar, not the question. It has come from selling paintings like a petty merchant. I’m not proud of it, but it keeps Father fed and medicined.’ He frowned. ‘There was one sale – or attempted sale, for I didn’t get a single
cash
coin – that worries me. It concerns one of your holy colleagues.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Do you,’ he asked, cautiously, ‘have dealings with Worthy Master Jian?’

‘Of course,’ replied Yun Shu, ‘he is our Provincial Master. In fact he has asked me to help officiate at the Ceremony of Fortunate Weather in a few weeks’ time. A great honour.’

She was surprised by Teng’s frown.

‘Has he ever asked it of an Abbess before?’

‘No.’

‘Just you, eh?’

‘We believe he wishes to warn the Buddhists how dearly Cloud Abode Monastery is regarded by officials of the Dao.’

They walked in silence for a while.

‘Do not trust him,’ he said.

‘Who?’

‘Worthy Master Jian.’

‘Why ever not?’ she asked. ‘Why should I not trust a gentleman of proven kindness? A man who is respected by all?’

‘Because … Call it a foolish suspicion, if you like, perhaps even bitterness that he cheated me. Yet I fear he is without scruples … Oh, never mind. Enjoy your great honour at the Ceremony.’

She wondered if he was mocking her in a way so subtle it sounded like sincerity. Unless, of course, he was drunk. Either explanation would have suited her opinion of his character. Yet whenever Yun Shu met Teng she invariably detected more than her prejudices. If nothing else, he made her smile.

She would have liked to ask his advice concerning the Tibetan Buddhists, for the Dengs were notoriously astute on political questions, but his behaviour was off-putting.

‘Tell me,’ she said, to change the subject. ‘Are your plays still being performed in the city’s theatres?’

‘Where else! Actually, I’m writing a new one. Perhaps …’ He cast her a searching glance. ‘No, I’m sure you would rather not.’

‘Rather not?’

‘See my play when it is first performed. If you
did
, you could accompany Father and me as our honoured guest. Father would need to travel by palanquin, of course. I believe you would find the
subject
of my little drama highly diverting.’

Yun Shu pondered the propriety of this. Nuns and priest often attended festivals and theatres. The difficulty might be associating herself too publicly with a disgraced scholar like Deng Nan-shi.

‘I shall consider it,’ she said.

Near the back entrance of Cloud Abode Monastery a loud crack disturbed them. It came from the woods. No one appeared.

‘A monkey,’ said Teng, uneasily, who had again reached for his sword.

Yun Shu was less certain. She sensed spying eyes. Being seen with a handsome young man who bore a rake’s reputation would feed gossip in the monastery. Yet she bowed and received his own bows of farewell, saying in a loud, clear voice, ‘Thank you for acting as my chaperone, Honourable Deng Teng. Please assure your excellent father of our prayers for his health. I shall consider attending your play. Be at peace with the Dao!’

‘Oh, I will,’ he said, wryly. Seeing the concern in her face, he added, ‘At least, I’ll try very hard.’

Not far from the entrance to Hou-ming harbour, like a ship of stone floating in the lake, rose the oval shape of Eye Rock. The island was lined on one side by low cliffs facing the city; on the other by a small shingle beach. A humble island, no bigger than a sizable garden, topped by shrubs and an ancient shrine.

For most of the year no one visited Eye Rock other than fishermen seeking birds’ eggs or sacrificing at the shrine. Its weatherworn altar was dedicated to the protector of all water-farers, Goddess Tien-Hou. Yet on one evening towards the end of winter, when sudden storms were common, the fishermen of Hou-ming and lake villages for a hundred
li
around held a raucous festival to invoke Tien-Hou’s protection. Everyone in Hou-ming took part, whether their livelihood depended on water or not, principally to dispel the winter gloom.

That year the Ceremony of Fortunate Weather was worthy of its name: a pure blue-black sky filled the twilit horizon, staging intricate wisps of cloud and patterns of stars. People looking down from the cliffs of Monkey Hat Hill saw hundreds of boats crammed with revellers, each a blaze of lanterns, so the dark lake glittered in mimicry of the night sky. Heaven’s constellations are ordained and predictable in their movements, but the boats jostled with no discernible order, driven by raucous drumbeats and clashing cymbals to scare water demons.

Yun Shu observed this scene as she descended a narrow flight of steps cut into the cliff where Cloud Abode Monastery perched. Bo-Bai went before her with a bright lantern for the path was dangerous.

‘Can you not go more quickly, Bo-Bai? See! The Worthy Master’s barge is waiting at the jetty.’

Bo-Bai grunted irritably. ‘My Lady can jump down to him if she wants.’

Yun Shu was attired like an Imperial Princess on her wedding day – the finest gold and purple silks and coral-crusted silver hairpieces, all loaned by Worthy Master Jian from the treasure room of Golden Bright Temple. Although, like any diligent Nun of Serene Perfection, Yun Shu avoided cosmetics, tonight she wore the white rice powder and pink rouge of a noble bride. In the highest possible sense that was her role in tonight’s ceremony: and her spirit-groom was the Worthy Master himself.

At the foot of the steps was a short, stone jetty. Yun Shu hurried to reach the splendid barge covered with ornate carvings of dragons, phoenixes and holy toads. Its painted hull shone dully beneath moon and starlight.

She found the Worthy Master in the stern of the barge, his robes as costly and splendid as her own. His forehead wore a crease of annoyance.

‘You are late,’ he began, as she took a seat beside him. He seemed to recollect something and laughed in a tinkling way. ‘Never mind! I’m sure the Goddess will forgive you! As will Chenghuang. Let us hope so, at least.’

Yun Shu, who had been troubled by nerves for days preceding the Ceremony, felt more inadequate than ever.