Breaking Bamboo

by Tim Murgatroyd

  ‘Brother, did you see where that stone landed!’ exclaimed Guang. ‘Had it been a thunderclap bomb there would have been a dozen Mongol widows!’

  Shih listened to predictions of burning ships and drowned men, his smile forced and fixed. At last Guang became aware of it.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked. ‘Is Father unwell?’

  ‘Father is exactly as he was when you deposited him at my gates,’ said Shih.

  ‘Put it where I ordered! Over there!’ bawled Guang at a squad of soldiers carrying a huge crossbow. ‘What were you saying?’

  ‘It is not important.’

  Guang scowled at the hammering and confusion around them.

  ‘This is all I hear from dawn until midnight! I say, let them get on with it. I can always mend their mistakes tomorrow.

  Now Little Brother stands before me and I am thirsty. So let us drink.’

  Soldiers saluted as they left the ramparts. Soon the bright doors of a large teahouse came into view, festooned with banners and glowing lanterns. The Five Breeze Loft occupied both sides of the street, a confusion of balconies and tiled roofs.

  A flying bridge connected the two buildings and waiters with steaming dishes on lacquered trays scurried over the hats of people on the street below.

  ‘This place will do,’ said Guang. ‘The owner knows me.’

  Shih hesitated. He could barely afford the simplest of dishes in so grand an establishment. Besides, he had heard Dr Du Mau often came here.

  ‘Don’t worry, Little Brother,’ said Guang. ‘You are my guest.’

  The arrival of Captain Xiao caused a stir among the waiters.

  They were led to a sumptuous private room, its balcony overlooking the rooftops of Nancheng. Across the river, Fouzhou was dotted with lights. Above the Twin Cities, constellations glittered in a blue-black sky.

  Flasks of warm and chilled wine arrived, along with a dozen dishes.

  ‘ Now I feel better,’ said Guang, downing his first bowl. ‘The truth is, I’m busier than a nest of wasps.’

  Shih toyed with his wine for moment, then swallowed it in one. Unworthy feelings crept through his breast. He envied his brother’s apparently uncomplicated nature. That he seemed to live without doubt.

  ‘You might wonder why I’m so busy,’ continued Guang, swallowing a coloured egg stuffed with minced quail. Yellow crumbs clung to his moustache. ‘The truth is, we have received messages that the Army of the Right Hand is in full retreat. Our generals will not risk a fight, the dogs!’

  ‘That is bad,’ said Shih, dully.

  ‘If only I was there! Try one of these chicken wings, Little Brother, the sauce is a wonder.’

  For the first time, Shih smiled. Sometimes Guang reminded him of a guileless boy who draws one into his games through sheer enthusiasm.

  ‘I’m glad of your company, though,’ continued Guang. ‘I need a wise head, and a discreet one. What do you make of this?’ He bent forward to whisper. ‘My patron, Prefect Wang Bai, constantly asks what properties we are confiscating. He’s even given me a long list of places. The strange thing is, half the houses have no military value. And once they’ve been seized, I’m forbidden to pull them down. Some say that he packs them with tenants as soon as their owners have been evicted. Of course, that cannot be true. Yet I suspect a dirty business.

  Corrupt officials must be to blame. What do you say?’

  Shih shrugged and drained another large bowl. His third.

  ‘No doubt,’ he said.

  Guang stroked the wisps of his beard thoughtfully.

  ‘You’re thirstier than a clam tonight,’ he said. ‘How is Father? Still talking to the fishes, eh?’

  ‘To Lord Yun, I am Khan Bayke’s hired gaoler,’ said Shih.

  ‘He refuses to acknowledge me as his son. Well, there is nothing new there. But he asks after you, Guang, really you should visit him more often. It might help him rediscover his true nature.’

  Other reproaches could have been added. That the one they called Captain Xiao in honour of his filial piety neglected his own father. That the old man was a burden in every possible way. But some truths may not be spoken, so he took Guang’s advice and tried a chicken wing. The sauce was indeed a wonder.

  ‘I hear you spend much time with your new lieutenant,’ said Shih. ‘The fellow who helped you escape the occupied lands.’

  ‘You mean Chen Song!’ said Guang, warming. The mention of Father had dampened his spirits. ‘Now, there is a fine gentleman, Shih! Without his assistance in Chunming we would surely have been taken prisoner. I tell you, Chen Song is a man for difficult times. He is both scholar and soldier – and fine company, too.’

  Shih glanced out of the window. Jealousy of one who had saved the lives of his dearest relations was surely ignoble.

  ‘I’m glad you take pleasure in his company,’ he said, stiffly.

  ‘Yes, we’ve had a few wild nights since I got back.’ Guang leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘When we visit an oriole flower hall. . . Well, let us say the welcome is warm.’

  He chuckled and splashed more wine into their cups. Shih felt oddly disconcerted. Though he knew Guang intended nothing by it, half of Lu Ying’s name meant oriole. Against his better judgement, he began awkwardly:

  ‘Actually, I would welcome some advice concerning a lady.

  You know about the Pacification Commissioner’s concubine, who has joined my household?’

  ‘Who does not know? Try these snails, you won’t be disappointed.’

  Shih persevered. After all, Guang was Eldest Brother. It was his duty to offer useful advice.

  ‘Today Lu Ying caused a quarrel in our household,’ he said.

  ‘Even with Cao. . . Well, especially with Cao.’

  Guang’s chopsticks froze in their work of pouncing on snails.

  ‘No need to say more! I always take Honoured Sister-in-law’s side! She is jade to me, solely for her loyalty to you. This Lu Ying must be kept in her place. If need be, drive her from your doors.’

  ‘Matters are slightly more complicated than you suggest,’ said Shih. ‘I fear the Pacification Commissioner would hardly forgive our family for throwing her on the street.’

  Guang nodded.

  ‘You are right. Then lock her in a small room for a day.

  That’ll teach her a lesson.’

  ‘Is she a criminal?’ asked Shih. ‘Am I to be a gaoler as Father believes? You see, I pity the lady. Of course I have not felt it appropriate to enter into relations with her. It would break Cao’s heart. I try so hard to do well by everyone, Guang. But that seems impossible.’

  Guang tugged at his chin, then poured more wine.

  ‘I met the lady myself today,’ he said. ‘She was wandering round the streets, dressed like a peacock. Perhaps she is mad.

  You must keep a tighter grip on her, Little Brother! She claimed to be looking for you, but it was nearly a bad business. A crowd had gathered to stare at her as though she was a puppet show!’

  Shih frowned.

  ‘No one told me,’ he said.

  Somehow he did not welcome the thought of Captain Xiao talking with Lu Ying. The two brothers downed another bowl to fill an awkward silence.

  ‘I have the answer,’ said Guang. ‘I shall admonish the girl sternly. Remember, I am Eldest Brother, and given Father’s condition. . . Well, let’s not bring Father into this. I shall command her to follow Cao’s instructions, as is only proper. Lu Ying will certainly obey me.’

  ‘Actually, the young lady is generally obedient to Cao,’ said Shih, hurriedly. ‘Thank you for your advice. There is no need for you to speak to her. I now see how to proceed.’

  ‘As you wish,’ said Guang. (Was there disappointment in his voice? Shih could not tell). ‘If her conduct gets worse, come and see me. I know a thing or two about women.’

  Guang tapped his forehead, then drank another cup. His expression suddenly grew morose. Shih was used to such shifts of mood in his brother.

&
nbsp; ‘I have never forgotten how you and Cao helped me,’ said Guang. ‘You shared what little you had when all the world viewed me as a worthless, hungry dog on the street. Some would say it was merely your duty. But I have seen many betray their own brothers. Honour me by relating our conversation to Sister-in-law. Tell her I will always defend her.’

  Then Guang’s flame brightened again. His frown smoothed and he returned to favourite topics: how he had overcome a thousand petty obstacles to gather thunderclap bombs; how he had gained praise from the Pacification Commissioner himself and even won the grudging respect of the Zheng cousins, those brave commanders who had initially opposed his promotion.

  Guang arranged the flasks and bowls on the table to represent the Twin Cities, showing how an attacker would be ground like rice until the husks floated away down the Han River. Shih drank so steadily his head swam. He did not mention his troubles again; it seemed easier to listen and admire.

  When he returned to Apricot Corner Court, he found that Cao had not waited up for him. Neither did she stir as he awkwardly undressed in the dark, or even when he murmured drunken endearments by way of good night. Her back was strangely rigid for one who slept.

  *

  Peace returned to his household the next day. At least, outwardly. If intimacy is two boughs fluttering beside one another so their leaves mingle, Shih sensed Cao’s branch lean away, and filled the empty space between them with sad thoughts. He also feared that she suspected his intemperate desires.

  Lu Ying kept to her room and he wondered what she was thinking. Not of plain Dr Shih, that was certain. Yet, sometimes, he imagined she might wish him to approach her.

  That afternoon, his duties at the Relief Bureau fulfilled, he returned home and mounted the stairs to the tower room. As he emerged on the first floor he found Lord Yun by the window, half-hidden by a bamboo curtain, peering like a watchful hawk down at Apricot Corner Court. Shih had little doubt what fascinated the old man. A few swift strides to the window confirmed his fears.

  Widow Mu’s daughter, Lan Tien, was playing with her brothers round the apricot tree, bending and brushing back her fringe. Dr Shih released the curtain so that it fell with a clatter. The old man shuffled back a few paces, his sensitive almond eyes staring into empty space.

  ‘You demean yourself, sir,’ chided Shih. ‘The city has many noble sights. This is not one of them.’

  ‘Do not talk to me about demeaning oneself!’ replied Lord Yun. ‘You claim to be my son, yet what do I find? A doctor. A peddler.’

  Shih went pale.

  ‘If I am just a doctor, as you say, then who is to blame? It is you, Father, who chose that destiny for me. Have you really forgotten?’

  ‘Ah hah! That is what Bayke taught you to say! I’m aware of your game! If only Guang was here, he’d make you grovel.’

  ‘Father, have you really forgotten how I came to be a doctor?’

  There was pleading in Shih’s voice.

  The old man pushed aside bunches of drying herbs that hung from the rafters and descended the steep wooden stairs. A door slammed below. For a moment Shih stood indecisively, wondering whether to follow. Drawing up a stool, he sat at his workbench and stared across the rooftops at Peacock Hill, listening to the children play outside.

  Later he walked across Apricot Corner Court, nodding curtly to Lan Tien and her brother on the way. He found Widow Mu fanning herself in her dumpling shop.

  ‘I have come to enquire about your health,’ he said. ‘Among all these rumours of war and Mongols.’

  She watched him cautiously.

  ‘As I told Madam Cao only this morning, with so many soldiers in the city, business has never been better,’ she said.

  Shih realised his wife had been gossiping. Widow Mu probably knew more about their troubles with Lu Ying than he did.

  ‘So you are well,’ he said.

  ‘Even if we were sick,’ she replied. ‘Since you healed His Excellency’s son, we couldn’t afford your fees.’

  ‘I never charge fees for a neighbour.’

  Widow Mu continued to fan herself.

  ‘It is strange you mention the Mongols,’ she said. ‘Last night Lan Tien woke up crying and said the barbarians were spying on her.’

  He shot her a sharp glance. Was there reproach in Widow Mu’s tone? He could not be sure.

  ‘She will sleep well tonight,’ he said, hastily. ‘I will send Chung over with an infusion and an amulet I have found useful in such cases. You must wave it over Lan Tien’s forehead five times.’

  Widow Mu looked suspicious, even while she bowed with every sign of gratitude.

  ‘It is kind of you to remember us, sir. What with so many changes in your household.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Shih. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I take it Madam Cao is happy with the changes?’

  An insolent question! Here was proof his wife had been gossiping. Soon everyone in Water Basin Ward would become experts on their intimate business.

  ‘Five times over the forehead,’ he repeated. ‘And ensure the blinds are kept lowered at morning and evening, lest day or dusk gather in the rafters and confuse your daughter’s sleep.’

  Shih left, refusing her offer of a dumpling. He had done all he could. As ever, it did not feel enough.

  *

  He went to the East Market to buy merit. On the ground known as Lone Willow, three criminals’ heads were being fixed to hooks dangling from the market gates. A dozen others grinned in various states of decay.

  Nearby stood a pond surrounded by a maze of stalls. Here monks sold lucky spells and blessing-merchants tended golden carp in wooden troughs, scooping them out with long-handled nets. Shih selected a fat one, its scales dappled silver and grey.

  Chanting a short sutra, the merchant reverently placed it in a square bucket painted with favourable symbols.

  Dr Shih prayed for merit in this life and the next as he set it free in the pond. For a moment, the fish quivered as though stunned, then vanished into the dark water with a flick of its tail. Its liberator examined the pond. A few carp floated belly up. On a small island, long-legged cranes paced. One darted its long beak and seized a writhing fish. Its gorge worked rhythmically. The fish vanished.

  He wondered why the blessing-merchants did not scare the greedy birds away. Perhaps they were necessary. Without them, the pond would soon grow full. Perversely, Shih recollected how the Mongols plucked up whole nations in their beaks and devoured them whole.

  Once the rite was over, he walked swiftly towards the North Medical Relief Bureau. The narrow alleys of Water Basin Ward were muddy from last night’s downpour. Dogs and children played in puddles. Low black clouds rolled like his thoughts.

  He longed to unburden himself, to be empty like the Enlightened Ones. All his life Dr Shih had struggled to forget so many things.

  At last he reached a junction. One way led to the Relief Bureau, the other to the Water Gate of Morning Radiance.

  Unpleasantness awaited him at the Bureau. Expensive herbs had gone missing and the matter must be investigated. He hesitated, then followed the line of the ramparts until he entered a narrow, brick-lined tunnel reeking of urine and green slime. The tunnel took him outside the city walls, where the wide river spread into the distance.

  He followed a path along the riverbank, beneath the im -

  pregnable towers and ramparts of Nancheng, soon reaching an isolated wooden jetty. There he sat, leaning against a mooring post. Closing his eyes, he allowed memories to surface, like the round, hungry mouth of the carp he had freed. His daring surprised him, for with those memories invariably came anguish. . .

  The boy had been tall for his age. It was a family trait. People in Wei Valley called them the Stilt-Yuns, though not to their faces. The nickname implied barbarian forebears and other unflattering things. When the peasants came to Three-Step-House, paying half their crop in rent, Lord Yun towered a head above his tenants. Shih always remembered that. As Eldest Son, one day he would be
Lord. The servants told him this many times, as did Mother. Father rarely noticed Shih among his many concerns.

  Father was the sky and Mother the moon floating across him. Little Brother, who resembled Shih exactly, was a star hanging beside his own, glimpsed through the bamboo curtains of the room they shared. Little Guang cast a light of mischief and laughter. Though Shih was the eldest, he often deferred to him.

  They were five years old and Shih might have been completely happy, except when he was not good enough. Father applauded Guang’s bold antics and Shih tried to copy them, discovering that to imitate is to be ignored. Worse, to earn unfavourable comparisons.

  One winter night, as they dined on twenty dishes, Shih said to Father that families in the village were very hungry. He had seen them boiling bark and old hooves for soup. That was the year when the harvest failed because of too much rain, then too little. Father’s only reply was an unblinking, owl-like stare.

  Later, Mother whispered it was better not to mention these things because Father refused to lower the rents. Shih did not know what rent might be. He suspected it made people unhappy.

  A serious little boy, he stared at the plum trees above Three-Step-House, noticing how they changed according to the season. Guang climbed to the topmost branches, clambering and making noises like a monkey. If Father chanced upon them, he watched the pair coldly. Shih understood, without ever a word being said, that he should be the one grappling the highest branches. When he tried to describe how the trees grew from bareness to blossom to fruit, Father seemed angry.

  ‘That is why we hire gardeners,’ he said, sternly. ‘Our duty is to eat the best of the plums and sell what is left.’

  Shih felt foolish but Guang piped up: ‘I don’t want anyone but us to have all the plums!’

  Father rewarded such splendid words with a new wooden ball. Shih received nothing. Though he never doubted the justness of Father’s admonishment, he still noticed the plums turned from sour to sweet, and wondered why. Surely it meant that people or animals would notice and eat them? Whereas if they remained sour and small, no one would pay attention and the fruit would be safe in its tree. He kept those questions to himself.