The Mandate of Heaven

by Murgatroyd, Tim

  Only Teng protested, but as no one paid the slightest attention he adopted a brooding silence, punctuated by observations of an acerbic nature.

  Seventeen

  Yun Shu left Sitting-and-Whistling Pavilion, turning her back on Mirror Lake, unaware she would never see the hills and limestone crags with their brocade of green again. Not in this life, at least. Even as she climbed through the woods, Yun Shu knew the map of her soul would forever include Mirror Lake.

  At Ou-Fang Village they were met by Mother Muxing and her sons. Other villagers soon joined them, bowing to the young Nun of Serene Perfection and her entourage. While Yun Shu blessed the villagers with a fortune-bringing spell, Bo-Bai entered into deep conversation with Muxing, glancing often between the nun and Teng. When it was time to leave, Yun Shu was surprised by tears in her eyes as she waved farewell.

  They comprised an unusual party on the dirt road through the hills. Bo-Bai led, accompanied by Teng using his bamboo spear as a walking stick. Next came Yun Shu, slightly apart lest she inhale impure breaths or brush her sleeve against someone lewd. At the rear were the porters; thin, gangrelly fellows dressed in threadbare hemp clothes, recruited from the stews of Hou-ming for the price of their feed.

  Deeper into the foothills of Mount Chang they climbed, the Holy Mountain rising before them, its peaks and power enveloped by clouds. Yun Shu noticed these things and contemplated the intertwining flow of yin and yang.

  Teng, however, incessantly disturbed her meditation.

  ‘See that,’ he muttered, turning to address her, ‘how does that embody the Dao?’

  They were passing through a village where a mournful, wailing crowd had gathered. Not for a funeral but a different kind of dying. The peasants’ landlord – a petite man in silks surrounded by armed relatives and retainers – was evicting late rent payers, dumping whole households onto the road like buckets of slops. Already a straggle of grandparents, children, mothers and fathers thin as weasels, were leaving their ancestral village. Teng glowered at the landlord, quickening his pace until he joined the drifting cloud of evicted peasants.

  ‘What is he doing now?’ asked Yun Shu, in exasperation. ‘I hope he does not get us into trouble.’

  Bo-Bai’s fleshy features were impassive. They watched Teng greet an old man and enter into conversation. Yun Shu noticed how the headman bowed to the youthful scholar, despite Teng’s stained rags. She wondered at his natural authority; unless, of course, it flowed from mere arrogance, an assumption of superiority.

  After a while Teng joined Yun Shu and Bo-Bai. To her surprise, he was more conciliatory than usual.

  ‘Lady Yun Shu,’ he said, ‘please ensure the temple authorities in Lingling feed this unfortunate clan. It appears they have been evicted to satisfy the landlord’s spite rather than through failings of their own.’

  Wondering how he could be so sure, Yun Shu bowed. ‘I will do what I can.’

  She did not add that the Daoist leaders in Hou-ming Province had ordered all clergy to avoid the slightest contention with the authorities; and it was certain a wealthy landlord like this would smell sweet to local officials, as would his bribes.

  ‘I have learned other things,’ Teng mused. ‘Hornets’ Nest’s replacement has sworn to make Lingling his capital and raises an army as we speak. The old man told me he has sent his sons to join the Yueh Fei rebels. That is his only hope of justice.’

  ‘This new Hornets’ Nest is more ambitious than his predecessor,’ said Yun Shu. ‘What is his name?’

  Teng shook his head. ‘A common name yet one that makes me melancholy. He would be my trusted servant if things had not turned out as they did. Poor Hsiung!’

  Yun Shu glanced at him curiously. They walked in silence. Then Teng said: ‘There is more. The mighty Jebe Khoja has been carried in a litter to Port Yulan and shipped to Hou-ming like a dying tiger. The authorities of Lingling County are in a panic.’

  ‘Are you not a direct descendent of Yueh Fei?’ she asked, softly.

  He glanced at her. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Abbess Lu Si speaks of you Dengs often. Besides, it is common knowledge.’

  ‘Better not remind our enemies. We are never safe.’

  ‘Then you better not attract official attention,’ she said. ‘Why not masquerade as my servant?’

  Deep offence darkened his brows. He laughed uncertainly: ‘How droll! Very good!’

  Yun Shu was about to retort she had never been more serious, for all their sakes, when his pain and humiliation stopped her.

  He bowed and strode ahead to catch up with Bo-Bai, who had quickened his pace, displaying the instinctive tact of a palace eunuch.

  Later that day they caught their first glimpse of Lingling Town. It was a typical county capital, large enough to maintain a governor’s residence and bureaux. There were four streets of importance, the rest being lanes winding around a hill. The markets sold necessities and little more. A military camp next to the governor’s compound contained barracks for five hundred troops – all, save for a few scattered survivors, currently decomposing at the foot of Hornets’ Nest’s cavern. Yet Lingling had one advantage not shared by similar towns. Holy Mount Chang and its many shrines towered over its red-tiled rooftops, attracting pilgrims from all over the province and beyond.

  A warm, fierce wind was blowing up from the valley as they arrived. Peculiarly, the city gates were unguarded.

  ‘Where are the Great Khan’s soldiers?’ she whispered. ‘Are no officials left alive in this County?’

  ‘Even the toll collectors have fled,’ said Teng, in surprise.

  Once through, it became clear a host of other wolves lay in wait for pilgrims. Soothsayers and magicians lined the wide, dusty thoroughfare, along with stalls selling spells and amulets. Cold food and wine sellers cried out their wares. Others offered steaming tea and fresh rice or noodles flavoured with salt fish. At the sight of a genuine Serene One in her blue robes and yellow neckerchief, the boldest amulet sellers ran forward, urging her to bless their stock. Some even had the effrontery – or desperate need for cash – to suggest she buy.

  There was a tense atmosphere in the street. Everyone seemed to be expecting something. Unwittingly, Yun Shu gave the sign by raising a hand to straighten her glossy, ‘whirlwind clouds’ hair. At once a hot wind blew. Paper windows rattled. Grit swirled in the air. To Yun Shu’s amazement, tall dust eddies spiralled, swayed, danced in the roadway. Cries of astonishment and joy rose from a group of pilgrims beside a shrine dedicated to the Mother of Numinous Radiance.

  ‘It is her!’ cried a bald merchant with a pockmarked face.

  Others took up the cry. Soon a crowd had gathered and, as Bo-Bai led them towards Sweet Dew Temple, the pilgrims followed, chanting prayers and the Numinous Mother’s name. Yun Shu covered her head with her kerchief, jostled by elbows and sweating bodies, exposed to hungry, staring eyes. It excited her to be treated with such reverence. Teng was less sanguine.

  ‘Did you hear what they are saying?’ he whispered in her ear.

  Yun Shu wished he would not press so close.

  ‘Apparently there have been miracles here ever since Jebe Khoja’s army was destroyed,’ he shouted above the hubbub. ‘Odd clouds, magic snow … I’ll find out what I can.’

  ‘The Numinous Mother!’ bellowed one man over and over, clapping three times with each repetition of the name. ‘The Numinous Mother!’

  Yun Shu was swept past shops and houses, up the hill to Sweet Dew Temple, amazed by the clamour. She felt certain it would shift to a more senior member of the clergy as soon as one appeared.

  At the entrance to the temple compound she was met by just such a man. He had donned his finest yellow and black robes and seven-brimmed hat as the crowd approached. Blocks of incense had been freshly lit in ancient bronze censers. A dozen lesser priests and acolytes stood behind the cloud of scented, benign smoke, bowing and chanting. Yun Shu also abased herself before the chief priest and many in the crowd follo
wed her example. Gongs boomed behind gilded pillars and frescoes.

  Yun Shu felt herself swept forward into the ancient building. Only once did she glance back, to see hundreds of red, excited faces shouting and calling, all seeking advantage for themselves and their families. One face, however, frowned. It belonged to Honourable Deng Teng.

  Yun Shu was confined to the inner shrine room of Sweet Dew Temple. No punishment was intended, only honour, yet she struggled to comprehend how she deserved it. High Priest Dongxuan explained the matter, an eager glint in his eye:

  ‘A miracle occurred when you arrived in the town, do you not recollect? Of course not, for you were in a transcendental state! Witnesses have explained how you floated through the gates, dust swirling beneath your feet. When you raised your hand a great wind blew! Furthermore, there have been reports of miracles all over the district. Divine birds carrying arrows in their beaks, spirit dragons dancing as they did when you arrived, trees suddenly sweating dew!’

  He leaned forward and sniffed at her.

  ‘Ah!’ he gloated, as though it settled all possible doubt. ‘A wondrous fragrance!’

  Yun Shu felt a terrible urge to test the aroma of her own breasts and armpits but restrained herself.

  ‘What does it mean?’ she demanded.

  Now the High Priest was less certain. He confided that, having consulted with an excellent local astrologer, he advised her not to step upon the Holy Mountain for two days and a night. In the meantime she must pursue the Great Work, all the while encouraging devout followers of the Dao to make offerings at the Temple. So saying, he sniffed deeply, ecstasy once more transfiguring his thin face.

  Yun Shu’s ongoing fast deepened her sense of dislocation. Meditation, breathing exercises, chanting and prayer merged into a blur of hours, all the while observed through window and door by excited crowds. A market established itself in the Temple courtyard, dominated by amulet sellers and a troupe of actors. Gongs sounded. Voices recited in unison. Even as Yun Shu slept she felt her spirit gaining ch’i energy. There were no dreams, just visions.

  On the evening before her ascent to Precious Forest Temple on the Holy Mountain, Yun Shu received a visitor other than Bo-Bai or High Priest Dongxuan. Yun Shu regarded him through a haze of incense. Familiar as he was, he did not seem entirely substantial. Perhaps she was already half spirit and so detected a luminosity in people that turned flesh transparent.

  She had been in the lotus position for hours without a twinge, but as she recognised the visitor her legs felt suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

  ‘Yun Shu,’ whispered Teng, ‘they only let me in because I claimed to be your secretary. Bo-Bai arranged it. So you see, I did end up posing as your servant!’

  She blinked at him drowsily.

  ‘We are concerned you might be unwell,’ he said. ‘People say you have not eaten or drunk for days.’

  His face reminded her of a glimmering image in a bronze mirror.

  ‘I no longer need food,’ she whispered back. ‘Oh, Teng, when we were children who could have imagined this?’

  He shook his head. ‘Only a madman.’

  ‘I will become Immortal!’ she cried, greedily, ‘I shall attain Bodhisattva and leave the husk of this body. Then all who have wronged me will … but no, it’s not for that, not at all.’

  ‘What’s it for, then?’ he asked.

  She detected harshness in his tone, envy perhaps. To mollify him, she said, ‘If that is too much, I shall become the Abbess of Cloud Abode Monastery!’

  Still his face remained stiff. ‘You have not answered my question.’ He waved away a dense curl of bitter, pungent incense. ‘What is this for? To prove yourself better than everyone else?’

  ‘You are jealous,’ she said, softly.

  Teng bit his lip and stared at the ground. ‘Yun Shu, I came to tell you something important. I have begun to understand small sections of the bamboo strips. They mention, among other things, the attainment of Immortality. You must be careful,’ he warned, ‘they speak of terrible danger.’

  ‘You are jealous,’ she repeated.

  ‘Please listen a moment …’

  ‘You believe that only you Dengs should be honoured,’ she said.

  ‘How foolish!’

  ‘You do!’

  ‘Actually I came here to beg. Though it hurts my abominable Deng pride! The family we met on the road, evicted unjustly, are here in Lingling and starving. Can you help them, Yun Shu? Will you speak to the High Priest on their behalf?’

  Her eyelids closed with a flutter and she swayed to the rhythm of a fresh chant outside.

  He rose scornfully. ‘I suppose poor people do not matter to you,’ he said. ‘Only your Immortality matters.’ He bowed with elaborate courtesy. ‘I wish you joy of the mountain.’

  Yun Shu no longer heard. The lotus position felt delightfully comfortable again. She imagined her body as a mountain criss-crossed by pathways and valleys and caverns, all humming with ch’i energy. An energy she directed to her womb where it coalesced as a glowing, brilliant pearl.

  Above Lingling storm clouds gathered in the darkening sky. Lightning danced across the distant horizon. In Sweet Dew Temple, High Priest Dongxuan began to prepare silken robes for Yun Shu to wear during her ascent up the Holy Slope at dawn.

  Eighteen

  Memorandum to Worthy Master Jian, President of Hou-ming Provincial Daoist Council, 17th Day, 8th Month, Year of the Tiger, concerning the miraculous events on Holy Changshan involving the Nun of Serene Perfection, Yun Shu of Cloud Abode Monastery, Hou-ming, and the subsequent miracles denoting an extension of the Jade Emperor’s favour.

  Worthy Master Jian, it is with joy I write to share a great pleasure in the Dao that I witnessed with my own eyes. If you do not trust those eyes (for surely any man may see wrongly), I urge you to consult one of the hundreds who witnessed the miraculous doings I here describe.

  It began thus: in the hour before dawn, the Nun of Serene Perfection, Yun Shu, emboldened by earlier manifestations of divine interest (described in my last letter to your Worthiness), donned robes of purple to represent a heightened dimension of yellow. So she demonstrated her ambition towards the Dao; moreover, she was encouraged to wear a wide girdle of black silk and scarlet silk, thus combining great yin and great yang, the ways of yellow and the ways of red.

  May it be explained that throughout these preparations the gong beat as a warning to hostile spirits, for there was a turbulence over Lingling that early morning. Many attributed it to a malicious dragon long resident in these parts. Suffice to say, Worthy Master, that dragon is the same monster who helped the rebels defeat the forces of His Highness Jebe Khoja, much to the dismay of all the Great Khan’s loyal subjects.

  Thunder echoed around the Holy Mountain and lightning danced around the peaks. ‘Oh ho!’ exclaimed some foolish persons. ‘Now we will see whether this young Nun of Serene Perfection is all people make her out to be!’ By that they meant: is her power sufficient to subdue the dragon cavorting spitefully over the Holy Places and preventing the offering of gifts and cash by honest pilgrims eager to pursue their own Immortality and Perfection through the Dao.

  As the Serene One stepped from Sweet Dew Temple a great thunderclap echoed round the hills, signalling that the White Dragon had taken notice of her challenge and wished to give battle. At this many of the hundreds praying in the temple courtyard fell to their knees. But the Serene One was entirely unperturbed and seemed to float across the courtyard (though I did not witness this myself, other clergy were granted proof in that no footprints were afterwards discernible to mark her route).

  At once the White Dragon began a succession of thunderclaps and lightning flashes so the very air tingled with energy. All to the benefit of Yun Shu! That lady opened her arms wide as she climbed the Holy Slope to the Sacred Peak, much as one embraces a friend or beloved rushing towards one, and scooped up vast effulgences of sheer ch’i energy each time the lightning flashed! The White Dragon merely a
dded to her power even when seeking to abash the Serene One!

  As she neared the Sacred Peak our foe deployed a fresh weapon. Rain lashed down from the sky like fierce whips. At once the earth ran with streams and trickles and many of the crowd lost their footing in the sticky mud, casting aside shoes and offerings. Sensing his advantage, the White Dragon renewed thunder and lightning, striking a huge rock near the Serene One so that the stone glowed and smelt of strange essences. Though entirely drenched, she did not falter. Two thirds of the crowd had fled back to the safety of the town and the remainder cowered on the slope, yet she climbed on top of this very rock that had been scorched by lightning. Raising her arms, she remonstrated with the White Dragon, defying his worst.

  Master, that was a sight to see! A final thunder crack louder than I have ever heard echoed round the mountain, rain beating down and bouncing off the rocks, until, by perceptible degrees, it slackened. Black, frowning clouds began to clear. Still the Serene One maintained her station, praying and commanding the White Dragon to be gone. At last, that perfidious spirit withdrew and the sky was the pure empyrean of summer!

  Our jubilation can be imagined. Those who had not fled back to Lingling carried the Serene One up to Precious Forest Temple in a state of joyous piety.

  Later I received reports that longstanding ghosts had fled the district along with the White Dragon. Also, there have been no miscarriages in Lingling since the miracle occurred, though they were frequent before. So I commend this Nun of Serene Perfection to you, Worthy Master Jian.

  Chief Priest Dongxuan, Sweet Dew Temple.

  The following was added in a secret code known only to the recipient.

  Though the White Dragon was defeated, not so the rebels. I urge you to be cautious, Master, for they have acquired a new leader far more dangerous than Hornets’ Nest. This Hsiung is said to be advised by a cunning master of strategy well known to the authorities (a certain Liu Shui).