by Alice Major
Time wore on again. The servant brought them bowls of cooked millet drizzled with a thick, spicy sauce. They ate rapidly, except for Chuan’s father, who sat glumly beside his daughter.
“Who was that, anyway,” Joss asked at last, chasing a last few grains of millet around the bottom of her bowl. “The man in brown, I mean.”
“Ssu-ma, Director of Horses,” the potter answered.
“Is he important?”
“He is one of the three dukes, the ministers of the first rank,” said the potter even more gloomily. “Those three are second only to the king himself.”
“Because he looks after horses?” Joss asked, amazed.
Chuan laughed abruptly. “He does not command only horses. He commands the people who ride them and the people who follow behind them on campaigns. He commands the army in all things.”
“So who are the other two top ministers?” asked Alasdair.
“Ssu-t’u, the Master of Agriculture. He directs the work in the fields and the harvest and the markets. Then there is Ssu-K’ung, Master of Works. He looks after the river crossings and highways, the building of walls and canals. But Ssu-ma is the most important of the three.”
“So where does the Count of Religious Affairs fit in?”
“He is a minister of the second rank.” A slight contempt shaded Chuan’s voice, making her father look nervously at her. “That’s important enough for me,” he said.
“Here comes His Importance now.” Joss pointed at the Count trotting towards them. He surveyed them fussily as they got to their feet. “We are going into the presence of the king. Couldn’t you have found them clothes more suitable for the palace?” he demanded of the potter, who shrugged humbly in reply. The Count made a ticking sound with his tongue and ordered them to follow him.
Even Joss was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious as they walked across the vast courtyard. Chuan’s gaze, usually so direct, was kept on her feet. Up the stairs they went at a quick trot and between two pillars painted bright green. The Count led them down a spacious hallway. At the far end stood a cluster of people, apparently relaxing after the conclusion of the ceremonies. The man in green stood at the centre of this group, his back to them as they approached, with the tawny lord at his side. Two other men in the same brown were part of the group. A ripple of laughter rose and died away.
At the sound of their footsteps on the cool, echoing floor, the man in green turned around to face them. The Count made a deep bow. Chuan and her father sank to the floor and touched their foreheads to the ground. The others didn’t know what to do and stood obviously puzzled until a gesture from Ssu-ma indicated that they too should bow their heads.
“So these are our visitors from another world,” said a light, clear, young voice.
Chapter Fifteen
The king wasn’t very tall—certainly not as tall as Ssu-ma. In fact, thought Joss, Mark would tower over him. His ceremonial robes were stiff, but a lightness and strength showed in his gestures. Joss was caught by the expression in his eyes. They looked as though it would take little to make them dance with laughter, and she realized how seldom Chuan’s people smiled or laughed. His cheeks and chin were beardless. He was young, she thought. Barely any older than Chuan. The older girl was standing half-turned so Joss could see her face. She had a dazzled expression in her eyes.
“Welcome. Although ambassadors seldom look so travel-worn when they appear before me. Or so outlandish.” The king’s voice was exuberant, teasing. Joss chuckled in response.
“Well, you look pretty outlandish to us,” she said.
There was a little gasp from the rest of the circle, and even Chuan looked alarmed. But the king only laughed back. “These robes would certainly be odd for everyday wear. It will be a relief to put them off.”
The Count of Religious Affairs ventured a small croak of protest. “The spring ceremony, Your Highness ... so important!” But the king waved him away.
“Leave us,” he ordered. “All of you. No, not you, Ssu-ma. The dukes should stay.”
The cluster of brightly robed figures melted away, bowing low as they went. One girl in a robe the same green as the king’s looked Chuan over briefly and contemptuously before she, too, turned away. Chuan’s cheeks reddened and she flung back her head.
“And now. This other world you come from ...”
Once again, they told the story of their arrival at the garden and answered the questions. Not all of them came from the king. The king’s inquiries were less probing that Ssu-ma’s had been. He was more curious about rather superficial things. How did they dress on ceremonial occasions? How was their nobility arranged?
The king didn’t do all the questioning. All three dukes listened attentively and posed their own queries. Ssu-tu, Master of Agriculture, was a mild, round-faced man who asked questions about crops and size of farms, few of which they could answer.
“I don’t know,” Alasdair said frankly at one point. “We just go to the supermarket and it’s there.”
“And this market—how many merchants sell there.”
“None, really. It’s all one big store. . . “ Alasdair wandered off into an attempt to explain retail grocery shopping, losing both himself and Ssu-tu in the process.
The third duke, Ssu-kung had a flat face, wide cheekbones and a restless manner. He echoed the king’s words frequently and laughed diligently when the king made a jest. But he didn’t seem to care for it if anyone but himself made the king laugh. His eyes narrowed when the king chuckled again at something Joss said in her matter-of-fact way.
The grilling went on for a long time. Sometimes it seemed as though the questioners were on the verge of not believing the answers, especially when they raised some such subject as electricity or automobiles. Sometimes the king and the three dukes stood aside to confer among themselves.
The king seemed particularly intrigued and restless at the idea of so many millions of people, so many countries, so many armies. “Who is the most important person in your world?” he asked.
Joss and her companions looked at each other, doubtfully. “The president of the United States, maybe?” Alasdair mused. “Or someone like the pope?” Then all these terms had to be explained too. Joss was getting dizzy and hungry again by the time they were interrupted by the Count of Religious Affairs. He hovered a little way off, attended by a servant who was bearing a cushion on which lay three carved sticks. The king caught sight of him and sighed. At this reluctant acknowledgment of his presence, the Count came bustling closer.
“Your Highness,” he muttered apologetically. “It is your first sleeping period in the Spring residence. The prayers ...”
“Yes, yes, of course.” The king waved his stiff-sleeved arm impatiently, then caught sight of the puzzled expression on Joss’s face. “You have no idea, do you?” he said with a trace of envy in his voice. “In the spring, I live in the east pavilion and wear green and eat millet and mutton. In the summer I move to the south pavilion and wear red and eat beans and chicken. And so on. And so on. Every day of my life laid down by the ancestors.”
“Your Highness ...,” the Count pleaded again.
“Yes, yes.” The king looked at the group before him. “They shall remain in the palace,” he said abruptly.
“All of them?” asked Ssu-kung, a cloud on his flat face.
“All of them. Oh, not him.” The king flapped his hand at the potter, who was still standing anxiously at a distance. “But the other four. Call the chamberlain to find rooms for them.”
Ssu-kung ventured a protest. “They should not stay within the palace. They are not of the noble clans.”
“They are ambassadors. And she . . .” he glanced at Chuan briefly and her face flushed again. “She is a daughter of the garden.”
Ssu-kung almost opened his mouth for another protest, then caught his sovereign’s eye. Ssu-tu tranquilly b
owed to the king and beckoned to Joss and the others. “Come.”
Bowing awkwardly, they shuffled backwards out of the king’s presence. As they left the hall, Ssu-tu resumed his questions. “Now, this animal you call ‘cow’ ... what does it eat?”
Joss stirred, vaguely aware of being watched. She opened her eyes to see a prim girl about her own age standing at the foot of her bed. The girl had been examining her face closely, but when Joss wakened, she turned her eyes aside, giggled nervously and held out a pile of material draped over her arms.
“Here. the king sends clothes for you. To attend the ceremonies.” She giggled again, put the pile of fabric down on a chest at the side of the room, and fled. Joss pulled a face, then stretched luxuriously. The bed was quite stiff and hard, but infinitely easier to sleep on than grassroots or bare ground. Finally, she sat up, swung her feet out from under the cool, linen-like, spicy-scented sheet. There was a tray with food on it, which she ate thoughtfully before unfolding the fabric.
“What the heck am I supposed to do with this?” she wondered, turning embroidered swatches of cloth this way and that. There was one long coat-like garment that she could figure out how to put on, but as for the rest...
The door opened and another woman walked in. Joss blinked twice before realizing it was Chuan, dressed in a long scarlet robe embroidered with pink pheasants. Her sleeves were lined in a deep rose silk and her hair twisted up on her head and skewered with an ivory comb. She looked suddenly splendid, and she laughed when she saw Joss’s dilemma.
“I though you might be having trouble,” she said. “Here, let me show you.”
Joss obediently stood still while the other girl draped various pieces of clothing around her. They were held in place by cunning folds and the occasional ornate clasp. One length of fabric that had baffled Joss completely turned out to be a sash that wrapped tightly around her waist, covering her from under-arms to hips. Her outer robe was of sky-blue silk trimmed with yellow on the sleeves.
“Molly would love this,” she murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. She hadn’t even thought of her friend in a while, and pushed the thought away now. “How on earth do you do anything when you’re wearing these?” She revolved slowly with her arms stretched out.
“You’re not supposed to. These are the full ceremonial robes, to be worn only on the most important festivals.” Chuan touched the intricate embroidery on her sleeve with disbelief. “That I should be wearing something like this. It would cost as much as all the land in fifty villages.”
“Well, you look great in it. I’m sure I just look peculiar.”
Chuan laughed. “Indeed, your hair does not look right. Let me see what I can do.” She combed and pulled at Joss’s shoulder-length hair for a while, braiding it back from her face.
They found Ariel in a similar state of bewilderment, her lap piled with apricot silk. Chuan wrapped her in the various layers and did the best she could with Ariel’s hair. The spikiness had started to grow out, at least, and Chuan smoothed it back with a sweet-scented pomade from a jar she found in the room. Finally, the three girls proceeded sedately towards the courtyard.
They had been given rooms in the women’s quarters, a row of buildings along the south wall of the palace.
“I wonder where they put Alasdair?” said Joss as they stood uncertainly between two pillars looking out into the courtyard.
“I think the chamberlain said he would be in one of those houses near the east pavilion.” Chuan waved towards the building.
The court was already busy with people coming and going, but almost no-one was dressed as ornately as themselves. The passers-by looked at them with an expression of awe and alarm and Joss suddenly felt overdressed.
“Perhaps we weren’t supposed to put this stuff on ‘til later,” she said. But before the others could reply, another party of formally dressed people came out of the women’s quarters and proceeded down the steps. Among them was the girl in green who had been in the king’s party. As she passed, her glance fell on Chuan’s robe. With a start, she looked up to see who was wearing it and a storm cloud crossed her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, apparently thought better of it, and swept on down the steps.
Ariel was the only one standing in a position to see the expression of fury. “What’s eating her?” she wondered aloud. But the others didn’t hear. They had spotted a figure making its way towards them—Alasdair, dressed in a scaled-down version of the costume worn by Ssu-ma. A quilted vest in a vigorous orange fitted over a long tunic and pants of the same colour. A round, quilted cap covered his head, fitting closely above his brows. It occurred to Joss that he suddenly looked older, more confident.
“Almost as though he belongs here,” she thought as he came to join them.
“I’ve been exploring,” he announced.
“Find anything?”
“There’s a garden area back there.” He waved towards the north side of the enormous courtyard. “And you get food over there.”
“We’ve had breakfast,” said Joss. “Let’s look at the garden.”
They drifted towards the far end of the courtyard, where trees could be seen beyond the row of buildings that bordered the open area. The pleasure gardens were deserted except for themselves. They wandered along sand-covered paths that twisted from one artfully placed bench to another, beside small pools or in groves of trees.
It was a tranquil place. As they strolled and chatted, it seemed almost as though they were back on the long, quiet journey across the prairie. Finally, they found themselves in a small area surrounded by tall hedges, right under the towering wall of the inner palace. On a pedestal in the centre, stood a small statue of a horse and its master. Ariel stood fascinated by it. The horse was a squat, powerful beast with a heavy neck and its chin tucked back against its neck. The master’s face reminded her of Ssu-ma.
Without saying anything, the others seated themselves on the benches surrounding the little square and lost themselves in their separate thoughts, in the quivering of slender green bamboo leaves and a faint scent of blossom from somewhere nearby. Only after they had been sitting there quietly for a while did they hear voices from the far side of the hedge.
“. . . the arrow well shot. Your performance was excellent, sire.” It was the high-pitched, flat voice of Ssu-kung.
“A toy. Toy bows and toy arrows.” The king’s clear voice carried well. “If only I could handle real weapons again. Remember the campaign against the Chou, Ssu-ma?”
“I remember,” answered the deep voice of the Director of Horses.
“Would that I could go riding on such a campaign again.”
“Your Highness’s lordly spirits are admirable,” said Ssu-kung. “We will pray the Sovereign Earth grants your desire.”
“Do not pray for war,” Ssu-ma said soberly. “It is all too likely to find you.”
“You are too cautious a commander,” said the king. “Where is your lordly spirit?”
“It’s caution that wins campaigns, not lordly spirits,” Ssu-ma replied with a note of grim humour in his voice. “I have never had to go into mourning for losing a campaign. Strive for peace and fight if you must, Your Highness. Follow the ceremonies with a filial heart and your people will bless you.”
The king gave a snort of disgust. “Mince around a courtyard and play with toy bows, you mean.”
A silence fell, until Ssu-kung spoke hurriedly as if he was trying to distract the king’s attention.
“These ... outlanders. Who say they are from a different world.” His tone was faintly sneering. Joss stiffened and looked back over her shoulder with an angry glance.
“I hope indeed they are,” said the king boyishly.
“What are we to do with them?”
But before anyone could answer, a hasty, rustling step interrupted them and another, slightly breathless, voice—a girl’s
voice—spoke.
“One thing we will not do is put them in the sacred robes. That robe belonged to your mother and to the lady queen before her. Only the highest woman in the Middle Kingdom should wear it. Not some girl born with potter’s clay under her fingernails.”
“Daughters of the garden are traditionally placed above all other women,” replied the king with a sort of metallic sweetness in his voice that told Ariel there was no love lost between the two speakers. It flashed on her that this was probably the girl in green.
“That may have been so five generations ago,” the girl snapped back. “It was suitable when the daughters did come from the highest families. Not now. That robe is mine by rights, my lord.”
The king spoke with something of a hiss. “You are not married to me yet, Chung-hou.”
“I shall be,” she replied levelly. Then there was silence and the rustling sound again as her footsteps died away.
Once again, it was Ssu-kung’s voice that came first, as if he was trying to distract and soothe the king. He made some passing comment about the ceremony of that day and suggested they return to the courtyard.
“Your people will be looking for you.”
“Yes,” said the king. His clear voice had gone flat and sullen, but Ssu-kung ignored the tone.
“Think of how they depend on you to keep them in harmony with the gods.” When the king made a testy noise, Ssu-kung went on smoothly, “and to defend them from barbarians like the White Ti ...”
More footsteps faded into the distance, but Ariel wisely held a finger against her lips to keep the others silent. After the king’s footsteps disappeared, they realized that the two dukes were still there when Ssu-ma spoke.