The Mandate of Heaven

  One hot, long afternoon in early summer while Hsiung was drilling his army before the walls of Chenglingji and practising attacks by siege towers, ladders, covered ramps-on-wheels, Teng sat in the garden of the Noble Count’s residence. Only the Zhongs’ skin and bones remained, still dangling, still objects of interest to flies. He found himself composing a song in his head and sent a servant for ink, paper and brush. Instead the boy returned with a rotund, huffing figure.

  Teng’s respectful bow to Chancellor Liu Shui was matched equally.

  ‘Honourable Deng Teng,’ said Liu Shui, ‘may I claim an interview?’

  Again Teng bowed. ‘That would be an honour beyond my expectation.’

  The fat man took a seat beside him on the stone bench. Both examined the floating water lilies for a while.

  ‘We have been greatly pleased to note your companionship with His Highness,’ remarked Liu Shui.

  ‘The pleasure has been entirely my own,’ said Teng, ‘as has the honour.’

  The Chancellor nodded gravely.

  ‘As a scholarly gentleman you will realise, of course,’ he said, ‘that the Mandate of Heaven has already been lost by the Mongol Yuan Dynasty – assuming they ever really gained it.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Teng.

  ‘This is the hour for righteous men, however humble, to be chosen by Heaven as saviours of the people.’

  ‘There are countless examples,’ agreed Teng. He went on to mention several from numerous dynasties.

  ‘Yet no ruler, however strong in battle,’ said the Chancellor, ‘prospers without benign government for the people. Otherwise he is little better than a bandit.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Teng, more warily. The wily old scholar-official was clearly preparing for something.

  ‘That is why,’ said Liu Shui, ‘we are greatly pleased by your influence on His Highness. My agents report that other influences – I may say, less favourable ones – are drawing near. For the sake of your noble father and the cause your entire family perished to defend, perhaps you might be persuaded to stay in Chenglingji until the autumn?’

  Teng grew attentive.

  ‘I fear that will not be possible.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Liu Shui. ‘Please consider my proposal. When I have passed away His Highness will require a new adviser. Who better than a man of impeccable family, intentions and education?’

  With that, Liu Shui rose and bowed. Teng did likewise, watching him waddle back into the Noble Count’s residence. Oddly, Liu Shui had merely voiced a vague, stirring ambition of his own.

  The next day Teng accompanied Hsiung to the wharfs of Chenglingji. Since their last visit the construction of warships had advanced hugely. Many were already on the water, their crews drilling and practising manoeuvres to the signal of flag and drum. It seemed much practice was necessary. Two, in particular, avoided colliding by a miracle, their captains screaming abuse and refusing to give way. Despite this interesting sight, Hsiung’s attention kept drifting towards the main body of the lake. He shielded his eyes with a callused hand for a better view.

  Recollecting his conversation with Liu Shui, Teng asked: ‘Tell me, is this new fleet of yours for attack or defence?’

  ‘Ah hah!’ chuckled Hsiung. ‘So you see how the wind blows. It is a great secret. Yet old Liu Shui told me you are worthy of our confidences.’

  Teng waited expectantly as Hsiung leaned forward to ensure not even the passing breeze might overhear.

  ‘We intend a blow the Mongols will never anticipate: to attack Hou-ming before autumn lowers the waters of the lake too deeply. My navy should be able to get in close while a land army causes a diversion by attacking the ramparts.’

  Everything on the busy dockside seemed to freeze apart from the two whispering men. Teng’s eyes widened at the audacity of the rebel scheme. In four months Hsiung might be lord of the very city where he had spent his childhood lighting fires, sweeping, cleaning, and emptying chamber pots! While he, Deng Teng, rightful heir to the leadership of Hou-ming, called his father’s scullery boy Noble Count. What might Hsiung become next? Prince? Emperor? Such transformations were possible when dynasties lost the Mandate of Heaven. And what would Teng be when the storm clouds of war blew away? A superfluous man, forgotten even by his own heart, famous as neither painter nor scholar-official. Perhaps even a pitiful teacher, his ambition drained by fresher, more confident minds, until all hopes of success were futile.

  His discomfort was answered by another version of his destiny. One without glory but happier. He imagined a long clean room lit by soft lamps where children played round their mother’s skirts. He sat with a woodcut book of Yun Cai’s poems, bowl of wine to hand. A vivid picture. The identity of the laughing mother was no surprise to Teng.

  ‘What is your view of my plan?’ asked Hsiung. ‘Liu Shui believes I should seek your opinion. Do you think now is the time to capture Hou-ming?’

  He was saved from replying by a cry and clang of bells.

  ‘A flotilla! A flotilla approaches.’

  Hsiung clasped Teng’s arm with excited, heedless fingers. ‘That will be Ying-ge and my two spymasters! They were delayed because she insisted on visiting her sick parents in Hou-ming. I respect her for that, though she did not ask my permission. I would hate to think she could be unfilial, though that would be impossible for one as loyal as Ying-ge.’

  Teng watched curiously. The Noble Count was giddy as a puppy.

  Within half an hour the flotilla had tied up at the wharfs. Teng found Shensi by his side.

  ‘I’ve got everything in place if we need to run,’ murmured Shensi.

  ‘Good, we might …’

  Teng fell silent. He sensed Shensi grow taut beside him. Two familiar figures – and despite the years since their last meeting at Hornets’ Nest’s camp, despite new silks and jade jewellery and plumpness, there was no mistaking them – rushed from the ship to abase themselves before the Noble Count. A third, also well known to Teng and Shensi, descended the gangplank with mincing little steps and shuffles, her fan working to hide shy blushes of joy.

  The Noble Count of Lingling had eyes for no one else. He leaned over her as she fell to her knees and bowed on the dusty earth, apparently eager to kiss his boots. Whatever he whispered was heard only by her. She shot him a grateful, wondering look and rose with her head constantly bowed. Then he strode to his carriage and she followed as swiftly as tiny lotus feet allowed.

  The two men in silks also rose, brushing dust from their knees, watching Ying-ge’s progress closely. As she followed her master through a crowd held back by soldiers, all those present bowed. Except, that is, for two men with stiff, expressionless faces.

  At the sight of Teng her eyes widened slightly but she gave no other sign of recognition. A moment later she had been handed into the Noble Count’s carriage and they were on their way, accompanied by cavalry.

  ‘Well,’ said Teng to Shensi.

  The latter grunted in reply.

  Their attention shifted to the pair advancing up the wharf with satisfied faces, one tall and muscular, the other wiry and sly. When they reached Teng and Shensi, the newly-arrived men halted in surprise. For a long moment the four examined each other.

  Hua smiled slightly. Chao’s grin revealed more black teeth than white. Teng had gone pale apart from red spots on his cheeks, while Shensi studied every inch of his enemies from toe to scalp. Still Hua smiled until Teng met his eye with the kind of impassive gaze Grandfather Deng used as Prefect in the days of his glory; a gaze suitable for condemning malefactors to death. The smiles stopped. Without a word being exchanged, all four men understood each other’s intentions exactly.

  Part Five

  Documents

  The contents of a sealed case delivered by a secret courier into the hands of Abbess Yun Shu, Cloud Abode Monastery.

  First, a hand scroll in a bamboo tube stopped at each end with moulded beeswax. Upon opening, the following was revealed:

  A coloured ink painting
on paper of a wide landscape. In the centre an old wooden pavilion with tiles missing from the roof, perched upon a mound shaped like Holy Mount Chang. Within the pavilion sits a lady wearing red and green silks, the colours of love, wealth and happy new life. She stares out across wide waters, empty save for blurred islands and rectangular sails on the horizon.

  Behind the pavilion is a luxuriant stand of green bamboo; nearby grows a single, thick-trunked pine; beside that is a plum tree heavy with blossom – in short, The Three Friends.

  A poem has been written in exquisite calligraphy above the trees:

  No geese on the horizon, just sails.

  The Lady of Serene Perfection is patient.

  Amidst bamboo and pine, delicate blossom.

  Who knows when the plum will fruit?

  The picture itself does not bear the artist’s seal, perhaps because he wishes to remain hidden or its recipient already knows his name.

  Also enclosed, a small silken bag containing two plum stones, each painted with lucky characters. The first reading blue plum, the second bamboo horse, meaning a couple attached to each other in early youth.

  Finally a sealed letter addressed to Honourable Deng Nan-shi:

  Honoured Father, your son begs forgiveness for not kneeling before you. He begs you to overlook his failures, most especially, the loss of our ancestral home and bringing calamity upon our house through his foolishness.

  Honoured Father, I now find myself in a safer place, the location of which I dare not mention. My companions are honourable and decent, though nearly all of low birth. Some would certainly meet with your approval.

  Honoured Father, I have resolved to find honest employment to support you through diligent labour, however scanty the reward, so you may live in a little comfort and peace as you deserve. Therefore, I implore you to take good care of your health until I return. This I shall arrange as soon as I can.

  It is my understanding you are housed and fed by the Nuns of Serene Perfection. Please offer them my thanks for fulfilling that duty until I return. Mention, I beg, my name to Abbess Yun Shu, and commend the painting I have sent. Assure her my intentions are sincere, honourable and unquenchable.

  Your dutiful and ever repentant son, Teng.

  Report to Chancellor Liu Shui in Lingling Town from the High Commissioner for the Newly Adhered Navy.

  Early summer, 1322

  Excellency Liu Shui, I hereby make a just and true report. You urged me in your letter of instruction to spare no detail, however unfortunate, so you might be fully surmised of the situation here in Chenglingji. This I do reluctantly, for reasons Your Excellency shall shortly hear.

  I begin by stating that much has been achieved. The Newly Adhered Fleet is, for the most part, afloat. That is to say, its hulls are watertight and sails or oars in position. A great many of the paddlewheel destroyers are now capable of rapid movement, despite the problem of poor workmanship.

  Accordingly, I divided the fleet into five squadrons, each of thirty vessels, and appointed trustworthy commanders of proven worth to train the men.

  Now, Your Excellency, I come to matters I quake to set forth. You urged me to frankness so I shall not fear punishment from yourself. However, I beg that this report does not reach those who might use it against me.

  First to the question of command. It has pleased His Highness to heed the advice of certain people here in Chenglingji. Above all, his spymasters, now promoted to the rank of Lesser Ministers; also his concubine, Lady Ying-ge.

  As a result, my five original squadrons have become one huge squadron led by Lady Ying-ge’s cousin, Admiral Won-du, who has experience as a naval officer. To be more exact, as the captain of a two-masted junk charged with the apprehension of petty smugglers for the Salt Bureau. Admiral Won-du has in turn appointed a dozen old drinking cronies as his senior officers, dismissing my appointees and any captains who express disquiet or have superior naval experience.

  Next to the matter of weapons and training. Although catapults and crossbows have been fitted at great expense, as well as naphtha spraying pumps, thunderclap bombs and noxious cloud bombs, I must report a disturbing lack of proficiency. The catapults, only effective if manned by experienced crews, lie idle even on those rare occasions when the fleet attempts manoeuvres. Vital rehearsals of boarding and disembarkation of marines are neglected.

  Admiral Won-du’s decision to abolish the squadrons means that the fleet sails back and forth across the lake with drums pounding and a thousand flags flying, incapable of dividing into more flexible units if harried by enemies, hugely impressive in appearance but impractical in battle. No one dares mention this reality to the Noble Count, especially in the hearing of Lesser Ministers Chao and Hua or the Lady Ying-ge.

  Will these difficulties be overcome by early autumn, as I am commanded? I would welcome a chance to discuss that question with Your Excellency as soon as you return to Chenglingji from Lingling.

  Ma Fu, High Commissioner for the Newly Adhered Navy.

  Memorandum from the Chief Minister of the Right Hand Secretariat to His Highness Prince Arslan, Hou-ming City, Hou-ming Province.

  Early summer, 1322

  Your Highness, I have been commanded by His Imperial Majesty to express grave displeasure at your report concerning the loss of the Imperial Salt Pans in Hou-ming Province. The Imperial household requires every resource to maintain its necessary expenditure. Moreover, the success of bandits against an army comprising not just native troops but men of higher, governing races has caused much disquiet in the Royal Chambers. How, His Imperial Majesty asks, could such a reverse occur?

  Hence, His Majesty commands the following actions:

  One. The content of this memorandum shall be restricted to the smallest number possible. Any discovering it must be silenced.

  Two. Your Highness is hereby informed that a fleet and army large enough to crush the Yueh Fei bandits has been gathered in the Yangtze Delta under the pretence of exterminating pirates. Its real purpose is to sail swiftly west and enter Six-hundred-li Lake prior to the rebel attack on Hou-ming planned for the autumn that your agents have learned about. Thus, the bandits shall find themselves like a ship driven onto merciless rocks by an irresistible wind.

  Three. Your Highness is commended to raise and train as large a force as his domains may support, both land forces and naval forces, to assist the Army of Righteous Reprisal upon its arrival in Hou-ming Province.

  Four. Traitorous elements amongst the population must be identified and harried, so that those wavering towards treason are dissuaded from throwing in their lot with the bandits. His Majesty states: ‘Beware of corrupt or inept officials! Each is as bad as the other, as one rat is as bad as ten mice.’

  Let it also be known that His Imperial Majesty entertains grave suspicions of the lower elements of the Daoist clergy and would encourage rigorous scrutiny of their activities. Let it similarly be known that those proclaiming the cause of the Buddha Maitreya are to be punished mercilessly, while those worshipping the Buddha Makhala shall have every benefit heaped upon their temples and monasteries, especially those clergy from Tibet spreading messages of peace and obedient harmony.

  Six. Your Highness will understand the importance of tempting the bandits into a decisive engagement with our forces before winter. All policy must tend towards that objective, even at the risk of giving the Yueh Fei bandits temporary advantages.

  On behalf of His Imperial Majesty, Hsieh-Ho, Chief Minister of the Right Hand Secretariat.

  The diary of Chancellor Liu Shui

  (Written in a code decipherable only by those closely familiar with Yun Cai’s ‘Lotus Poem’.)

  Early summer, 1322

  14th Day, 4th Month, 1322

  Arrived back in Chenglingji towards dusk. As our flotilla approached the land, I glanced back to the West and was amazed by the depth and complexity of the sunset: sunbeams slanting directly towards the Noble Count’s palace. Surely a sign! But when I remarked upon it to the ca
ptain he said that midway between equinoxes the sun often went down at that angle. The implication is that Heaven is unsure whether to grant its favours to the Noble Count.

  My mind was full of Navy Commissioner Ma Fu’s report concerning the poor condition of our fleet upon which all our schemes depend.

  Later, on arrival at the Temporary Palace, I received appalling news. Not only was His Highness indisposed and incapable of seeing me until the morrow, but the Bureau chiefs reported to me in whispers that Navy Commissioner Ma Fu had been accused of spying by Ministers Chao and Hua. A short trial that very day had led to his immediate execution, as demanded by Admiral Won-du. It is impossible Hsiung could have taken so severe a step without the clearest proofs. Yet if Ma Fu – with us since the very start of our rebellion – was a traitor, whom may we trust? I prepare for sleep with a heavy heart.

  15th Day, 4th Month, 1322

  A most dismal day. The monsoon returned with fresh force, making the roofs of our Temporary Palace resound like warning drums. Little light in the sky. Much grey.

  I was finally admitted to the Noble Count in his quarters. I thought him ailing, his face bloated and pale. When I drew near, he reeked of strong spirits despite the early hour. Naturally, I begged to discover what evidence had condemned Ma Fu. At first he was reticent, then he said – remorsefully, I thought – that Minister Hua had reported his suspicions concerning the Navy Commissioner at the end of a long banquet. Although he could not remember it exactly, it seemed he had ordered Hua to execute poor Ma Fu at once and that Minister Hua, though terribly reluctant, had obeyed sooner than risk His Highness’s wrath. As he spoke I noticed the Noble Count’s hands shaking: never a good sign with him.

  At that moment there was a most disturbing occurrence: the Lady Ying-ge appeared through a side door and stood watching us silently, her large brown eyes unwavering. Her beautiful face – and it is an exquisite ornament – turned towards His Highness. At the sight of her, he puffed out his chest like a pigeon in spring and frowned angrily. At me! At me! Then he ordered our audience was over. I left crestfallen.