The Mandate of Heaven (71 page)

Foremost among them was outrage, mingled with mourning and sheer hatred. But who did he hate most? Gui for betraying years of faithful devotion and service? Or the petite, smirking boy with shiny teeth like melon pips Gui had somehow acquired while accompanying Jebe Khoja in the campaign against the Yueh Fei bandits?

The exact circumstances of the boy’s purchase were mysterious. Only one thing was certain: ever since his arrival Golden Lotus had been summoned less and less frequently to warm his dear master’s bed.

How he regretted his folly in not collecting Yun Shu from Cloud Abode Monastery! If he hadn’t succumbed to old resentments against her mother, Yun Shu would be here now. And that would change everything. Even Gui, hardened as he was to the world’s disapproval, could hardly parade a new yellow eel boy before his daughter without a little shame.

Golden Lotus froze, afraid his anger had somehow woken the Salt Minister. But no, he was just snuffling and grunting in response to a dream, clutching Golden Lotus’s hand so tightly it hurt. Perhaps the snoring had stopped for the night. Then a fresh, quavering whinny burst from Salt Minister Gui’s hairy nostrils.

Golden Lotus allowed himself a sigh. It was no good regretting Yun Shu. The girl had vanished and even costly bribes had failed to uncover her whereabouts. All he knew was that the Nuns of Serene Perfection, and Yun Shu with them, had escaped from the city amidst a crowd of refugees, heading north. That was months ago.

Still the antique bronze lamps burned into the night. With them smouldered Golden Lotus’s hurts and fears.

Towards midnight fresh clouds rolled across Hou-ming, obscuring moon and stars. Then the snow fluttered softly again. Some settled on the topmost storey of Wild Goose Pagoda where lights showed behind the thick paper curtains of the windows. From within came a low, droning chant, interrupted by hoarse coughing and cries of alarm. Suddenly there was a grating noise and part of the sloping roof lifted, emitting noxious-smelling fumes and wisps of steam into the night.

Inside the pagoda, two gaunt and skeletal figures, heavily swathed in robes against the cold were bent over a small steel crucible in which a precious concoction bubbled as it cooled. Solemnly, Worthy Master Jian added three drops of mercury into the mixture, followed by grains of incorruptible gold. Meanwhile Void chanted a sutra adapted from the ancient book of bamboo strips, to connect the mixture to the Heavenly Immanence. Finally, and with great care, Worthy Master Jian added a few shavings of the Buddha’s knucklebone to the crucible.

‘Master,’ urged Void, ‘you must shape the pills with your own fingers and swallow them while they are still warm!’

Worthy Master Jian’s eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated. He laughed triumphantly and picked out a pea-size scoop of the mixture between finger and thumb. The pill shone like a pearl in the candlelight and he felt a momentary confusion, remembering the Pearl of Dew he had harvested from Yun Shu and lost at the very moment of transformation. Her guileless, handsome face and earnest enthusiasm created a baffling picture in his mind.

‘Repeat the sutra!’ he ordered Void. ‘My thoughts have become sullied.’

While Void chanted once again, Worthy Master Jian swallowed the foul pill as though it was the finest delicacy this world could offer. Waiting for the elixir to take effect, he gazed up at the gap in the roof through which stray snowflakes entered the chamber; waiting for Realisation; waiting to never feel pain or decay or loneliness or dismay; waiting to fly through the hatch in the roof of Wild Goose Pagoda, dancing round and round with joy like wind-driven snow …

Five hundred
li
to the west in the limestone hill country around Holy Mount Chang, there was no snow. Just a fat, indifferent moon peering at the campfires of a large army preparing to attack Lingling Town, the last remaining Yueh Fei stronghold.

The streets of Lingling were a confusion of people loading carts with bundles and boxes. Only fools believed the Great Khan’s soldiers would show restraint when they overwhelmed the town’s few defenders. The rebellion that had lasted for nearly a decade was over. One could only hope for escape.

In what had once been the Noble Count’s residence, servants and officials rushed to and fro, claiming anything of value that might support them and their families through the harsh months ahead. One official, however, sat motionless upon a lacquered throne reserved for the Noble Count’s First Chancellor. His fleshy hands were hidden by thick silk sleeves. The lamplight made his ruddy cheeks appear more flushed than usual – or perhaps they were red with anger. Certainly his small piggy eyes glinted as he examined the woman kneeling before him.

A dozen soldiers – the Chancellor’s fanatical bodyguard – lined the walls of the audience chamber. They also examined the young woman on the floor with hostile interest.

‘Well, Ying-ge,’ said Chancellor Liu Shui, ‘you have heard the evidence against you. Do you offer any defence?’

The actress had aged in the months since Hsiung sailed from Chenglingji. Her perfect oval face bore the first traces of crow’s feet. Without make-up or fine clothes she resembled a tradesman’s pretty young wife rather than a celebrated court beauty. Liu Shui’s eyebrows rose fractionally.

‘Then we may take it you have no defence,’ he said.

Ying-ge looked up with a trace of her old defiance. ‘Why do you keep me prisoner?’ she demanded, shrilly. ‘Ever since you forced me to travel here from Chenglingji I have begged and begged you to let me go!’

Liu Shui glanced at the captain of his bodyguards. ‘Do your duty.’

‘Please!’ she cried, half-rising. The soldiers lining the walls stirred. ‘The letters were forgeries … I do not know who put them in my papers! Yes, now I think of it, I
do
know! They were placed there by Chao and Hua!’

A deep sigh escaped from the fat man. ‘Ying-ge,’ he said, ‘you have heard my verdict. Your treachery demands nothing less.’ Ignoring her wail he carried on. ‘After
that
, I shall leave Lingling with my followers for a monastery deep in the mountains. Rest assured I am known by a different name there, but due to my generosity over the years, we can be sure of a warm welcome. There I shall spend my time in meditation and calm. At least, that is my intention. Yet I fear I shall not gain the peace I have so richly deserved for my services to the people. Do you know why?’

Ying-ge stared up at him, for once without words.

‘Because of my poor, dear boy,’ he said, quietly. ‘Oh, I am aware Hsiung will be executed by Prince Arslan. All because of
you
.’

Another wail escaped Ying-ge’s lips. Liu Shui turned to the captain of his bodyguard.

‘It is time,’ he said, tonelessly. ‘Be swift.’

The officer bowed and drew a long, heavy sword. ‘A pleasure, Your Excellency,’ he said, grabbing Ying-ge by the hair and pulling back her head to expose the neck.

‘No!’ shrieked Ying-ge. ‘You cannot …’

‘Carry on,’ commanded Liu Shui.

‘I’m carrying his child! I’m pregnant with Hsiung’s child!’

‘Halt!’

The officer’s sword, tensed for the severing blow, froze. Yet his grip on her hair tightened so that she wept with pain.

‘You are a confirmed liar,’ pointed out Liu Shui, in a reasonable tone.

‘No! Not this time!’

‘Time is pressing, Your Excellency,’ said the captain, ‘we must be long gone before dawn.’

Still Liu Shui hesitated.

‘Prove you are pregnant!’ he said. Realising that was impossible, he added, ‘Besides, even if you are with child, how do we know it is his? A whore like you, it could be anyone’s.’

The captain raised his sword arm once more.

‘It is his!’ she sobbed. ‘It is! A woman knows. You must believe me.’

For the first time since the Newly Adhered Fleet went down, Liu Shui’s expression lightened a tiny shade. He grunted in wonder. ‘Captain! Let her go, but bind her hands very tightly. She’s coming with us. And let us hope, my dear,’ he said, leaning towards her, ‘that the child
does
resemble my dear, lost boy. Or your pretty little neck will be wrung out like a wet cloth by the good captain here.’

An hour later, a small group of horsemen cantered through the gates of Lingling, escorting a carriage with closed curtains. When, late the next day, government forces ransacked the Noble Count’s palace they found no trace of his First Chancellor or even his concubine, Ying-ge, though special orders had been issued to protect her.

An hour after midnight, Hsiung woke suddenly from a dream or memory of Monkey Hat Hill in the cool warmth of early summer, before sticky dog days brought discomfort and monsoon.

He had been leading Teng and Yun Shu through the bamboo groves towards their secret watchtower, all three squabbling over nothing as usual. Stiff branches and softer leaves brushed his bare calves. Sunbeams slanted through the trees. Parrots rose in a cloud of red and green, disturbed by the children’s argument, so that Hsiung was tempted to order the others to be quiet. But he knew they would not listen. Although, even in his dream, he sensed a need to bend their wills to his own, Hsiung realised he didn’t care. Let them quarrel! He was simply glad to walk along the sunny path, soft underfoot from yesterday’s rain, its scents and textures and colours.

‘This way!’ exclaimed Hsiung as he opened his eyes. ‘I’ll go in front!’

But there was no one left to hear. He became aware of cold, iron manacles round his wrists, the unrelenting slats of the bench where he lay.

Hsiung rose hurriedly, kneading life back into his fingers. He stamped his feet to warm them, flexing his aching spine as he paced the dark cell. Something up on the wall startled him: a soft, mysterious glow. Hsiung smiled at his own fancy, for it was just the moon’s waxy, round face framed by the window. He stopped pacing and stared at the mother planet.

One by one his fears for the morning that was fast approaching, the day of his death, faded as he gazed up. The clear, pale light seeped from moon to eye to soul, its gentle illumination falling across the landscape of his spirit, tortured crags and swamps, dark forests and cave entrances so black it seemed light would never find a way in, never reach the shadows – and yet it did, a pale, calm light, merging with the dark lights that had so often danced demonically from vile corners in his soul to master him. Merging with the dark lights until they were dark no more.

Hsiung understood the moon was Liu Shui’s patient face, so reasonable and moderate, that it always had been. A face that was firm and just when the need arose, always seeking to cast peace upon the world.

For a moment Hsiung recollected his own folly. How his misjudgements had betrayed the Yueh Fei cause. His breath became uneven as tears of silent anguish stung his cheeks. Only the steady, clean light of the moon offered peace; and, at last, he no longer despised himself as a failure. There was still one way to make amends.

Tomorrow he would die well for Liu Shui’s sake. For the thousands who had trusted him. For old Deng Nan-shi, haughty yet generous. Perhaps, even, to prove himself a
xia
to two children long transformed by time. Hapless, well-meaning people like Teng and Yun Shu needed a strong
xia
to protect them. Dying well might bring them good fortune. It was the only sacrifice he retained.