Her stomach rebelled at the thought of such an ugly old man for a groom. But hadn’t her mother warned her that no decent family would take her for a daughter-in-law? That was why, at eighteen, when all her friends were already mothers, she remained unmarried. Unwanted. Besides, even good matches did not guarantee good husbands. Marriage brokers often lied, and everyone knew of girls who thought the red chair was carrying them to rich households with young, handsome husbands only to find they had been cheated.
How would Chen treat her? The winter he had lived with them as her father’s laborer, he had never come back from market without a sweetmeat for her and her brother. In the evenings, he had often whittled little toy animals for them or woven delicate balls out of straw, all the time holding them spellbound with marvelous stories of mighty warriors and vengeful ghosts. But he had changed. Sold his own children and caused his wife’s death. Still, her mother said if a woman were clever, she could persuade a man to do her will. Could she win Chen over, entice him to be kind?
Lalu swallowed hard and leaned back, soft and cuddly, against Chen. Tilting her face up, she whispered. “Let me be yours.”
His hand slid under her jacket, deftly unhooking the buttons on her tight inner bodice. He fondled her breasts. Instinctively, she stiffened. Desperately, she tried to relax. Instead, she felt a rush of goosebumps and a burning redness sweep over her. She forced her body, however unyielding, to remain pressed against him.
Chen twisted her nipple cruelly. “I’m not so easily fooled, Little Sister,” he said, withdrawing his hand.
Tears of humiliation coursed down Lalu’s cheeks. “I’m a farmer, not a wanton,” she wanted to cry. “Then act like a farmer,” a voice inside her said. When bandits, insects, disease, rain, or drought wiped out a crop, a farmer did not crumple and cry like a disappointed child, he began the whole process of fertilizing, plowing, and reseeding once again. Even now, with the drought into its third year, the farmers in her village remained undefeated, searching for ways to save their land and their families. Could she do any less? The seed from her sale would save her father’s land and her mother and brothers from starvation. Now she had to save herself.
She would find a way to escape. Not back to her village, she knew she could never go home again, but to a large town or city where the bandits would never find her.
SEVEN
Lalu wakened feeling stiff and sore. She stretched. Her arms and legs hit sharp edges. Puzzled, she opened her eyes. She was wedged in by bags, boxes, baskets, and trunks. She reached out to push them aside, then froze as events from the day before crowded in on her: the raid, her sale, her failure to please Chen, their noisy arrival in camp, Chen’s orders to dump her with the rest of the booty in this long, windowless room.
She remembered fighting to stay awake as the narrow room filled with fierce-looking camp dogs and men pushing and shoving and all talking at once. The barking and shouting giving way to sounds of eating. And, finally, the agonizing fragrance of the bandits’ dinner forcing her to give in to her exhaustion as a means of escape. How long had she slept? Was she alone? Cautiously, Lalu raised herself so she could see beyond the boxes and trunks that surrounded her.
Through a curtain of sickeningly sweet smoke, she sighted half-naked men stretched in pairs on long sleeping platforms on either side of her. They lay facing each other. Beneath each pair, she saw a small, lighted peanut oil lamp, partly covered with a paper shade. Over the flame, each man held a long, slender wooden pipe with a softly spluttering mass in the bowl. As the dark brown lumps became smaller, the smokers reshaped them into cones and resumed smoking. Lalu’s pulse quickened. Concentrating on their pipes, the bandits took no more notice of her than they did of the dogs gnawing on leftover bones. This was her chance to escape.
Her eyes searched the smoke-blackened walls for a door, finding one behind her, to the left, not more than five feet away. Unguarded. She started to climb over the trunks and boxes.
A glitter of gold stopped her. She leaned down to grab it, but it was only a character painted on a red leather trunk. Disappointed, she pushed aside a basket of turnips and squeezed between two boxes. Midway she twisted back to stare at the painted gold. Though she could not read, she knew this pair of characters. Everyone did. Double happiness, the characters used for weddings. This was a wedding trunk, and a wedding trunk meant jewelry, jewelry she needed to exchange for food or pawn for cash.
Lalu crouched beside the trunk. Padlocked. In one swift motion, she removed the brass earring from her left lobe, straightened it, and picked at the clasp. The smoke and shaded lamps made it hard to see clearly, and she fumbled. The lock slipped in her sweaty palms. She wiped her hands dry on her jacket and probed deeper. The earring stuck inside the clasp. She pulled. It would not yield. She twisted it and pulled again, but the end of the straightened earring was too short and thin for her to get a proper grip. Head throbbing and mouth dry, she leaned down, gripped the sliver of wire with her teeth, and pulled.
The wire yanked free, springing the lock. At the same time, the force threw Lalu against a basket which tumbled, scattering peanuts with a loud, dry rustle. The bandits did not look up from their pipes, but the dogs trotted over and sniffed at the peanuts and Lalu. Scarcely daring to breathe, she waited for the dogs to go back to their bones, then pried open the lid.
The trunk was filled with silks and satins. A wealthy bride. She felt around the sides and all along the bottom for jewelry. Nothing. Was she wasting precious time searching for what might not be there? No. She must find jewelry. If not in this trunk, then in another, for without it, she would be helpless, the prey of charletans as evil as these bandits.
Lalu plunged back into the jumble of jackets, skirts, and trousers, tossing out garment after garment until the trunk gaped empty. Nothing. Dizzy with disappointment, she fell back. Something sharp pricked through her thin cotton pants. She pulled it out tiredly and threw it into the empty trunk. It winked up at her. Gold! A gold earring.
She snatched it up and felt around the mess of clothing for its mate. Wildly hurling garments back into the trunk, her fingers knocked against something cold and round. A jade bangle. A silver hairpin. The mate for the gold earring. And three jade buttons. Shaking with relief, Lalu used the earrings and hairpin to hook the bangle and buttons to the wide inside waistband of her pants. She pulled her jacket down over her cache, took one last glance at the bandits, and headed for the door.
The weakness in her legs and the hollow cramping in her stomach reminded Lalu she had not eaten since the bowl of thin gruel at breakfast the day before. She pushed the thought from her mind. She must leave while she still had the chance. Later, when she was safe, she would eat. She edged forward, leaning against the trunks and boxes, grateful for their support. A haze of black and red dots thickened and came together in a solid sheet of black. She shook her head impatiently. For a moment, the darkness faded. Then again it deepened. Tears of frustration pricked Lalu’s eyelids. She must eat now.
Sinking to the floor, she searched for some leftover she could grab without upsetting the dogs. As her fingers touched the rim of a bowl, her mouth flooded with saliva. She lifted the bowl to her lips and shoveled in scraps of pork and congealed millet, barely chewing before she swallowed and gulped some more.
Suddenly, the bowl was wrenched from her grasp. She thought at first that the hideous beast who had seized it was a dog, but bony talons clutched the bowl. Could the long tangled hair and matted beard be covering a man? Repelled yet unable to move, she watched the creature lick the bowl clean and hobble away on all fours, dragging a chain and iron weight which left a deep groove in the dirt floor.
“How do you like our bear?”
Lalu whirled around. A small, slightly built man with hollow eyes and sunken cheeks dropped down lightly from the sleeping platform beside her. How long had he been watching? Did he guess she was heading for the door and escape?
He came closer. She must distract him. Talk.
/> “It’s not a bear, it’s a man,” she said, trying to keep her voice low and steady.
“Once, maybe, but he’s been our bear for years. Keeps us entertained with his dancing and tricks during the long winter months when we’re snowed in. Of course, we won’t need him now that we’ve got you.”
Lalu forced a laugh. “Me?”
“We’ve drawn lots to see who will get you first. Worst luck I’m forty-three.” He lunged and grabbed her to him. “Unless . . .”
The door burst open. “Soldiers!” the man silhouetted in the doorway shouted. In the rush of stampeding bandits, Lalu found herself seized by a medium-sized, middle-aged man with a long, droopy gray mustache. She dug her heels into the dirt.
“Let me go,” she begged.
He hoisted her off the floor. “Believe me, you’re better off with us than the soldiers,” he said.
Wedged tightly between the bandit who held her and the pommel of the saddle, Lalu listened to the scouts’ report. There were soldiers everywhere, they said. And those sons of turtles looked as though they intended to stay.
“This fit of housecleaning won’t last. It never does,” Chen said.
“What do we do until they leave?” his second-in-command asked.
“Gao and Ma have camps near here. We can take refuge with them,” Chen said.
“Wu’s camp is not too far either,” a tall, thin man added.
“Take some men with you and go see what the situation is with them,” Chen ordered. He pointed to a dense thicket about half a li away. “We’ll wait for you there.”
The trees sheltered them from the glare of the hot afternoon sun, but not from the mosquitoes and horseflies. The horses, nostrils quivering, tossed their heads and flicked their tails, but their necks, legs, and bellies were soon covered with bites. Lalu felt welts rising wherever her skin was exposed. She slapped and scratched until her fingers became sticky with blood, but the itching and irritating buzzing did not stop.
She studied the bandits, wondering if she could crawl away unnoticed. Splotches of blood and flattened insects flecked their backs and faces which glistened with huge blisters of sweat. They swore and slapped themselves angrily.
“A fire would get rid of those blood suckers.”
“And bring the soldiers down on us like maggots.”
“If they’re not deaf, you ignorant bastard, they can hear the horses stamping and snorting.”
“But you can see smoke farther away.”
“They might think the smoke is from a soldier camp.”
“And what do we do if they come? Serve hot wine?”
Chen turned to the bandit who had seized Lalu when the soldiers came. “Ding, build a fire.”
“It’s too hot,” Ding grumbled.
Lalu jumped to her feet. She would quiet Ding’s suspicions by gathering brush from nearby, then go farther and farther until she was safely hidden in the forest. “I’ll help,” she said.
Chen kicked her to the ground. “And fly the coop and spoil our fun?”
The men laughed.
A heavy-set man threw himself on top of her. “How about a taste of swan’s meat?” he sneered, ripping the buttons off her jacket.
Lalu struggled, but against his bulk she was helpless. The sharp points from the earrings hidden in her waistband dug into her belly and she felt a strange hardness swell and press against her thigh.
“Get off,” she gasped.
“And lose the chance to eat a virgin?” he grinned, his calloused fingers tearing at her flesh.
“Hey, Zhuo, get off her. My number is before yours!” Ding protested.
“Mine too!” another bandit added.
The two men fell on Zhuo, pulling him off Lalu.
“Zhu drew the lowest number, he goes first,” Ding said.
“He’s with the scouts,” Zhuo protested. “I say we draw lots again.”
“And lose my low number? Never.” Ding laughed scornfully. “You’re just afraid that by the time you get her she’ll be like a mushy old sweet potato, too much for someone like you with testicles the size of a gnat.”
Zhuo sprang to his feet and lunged at Ding. “I’ll tear your tongue out, you son of a whore.”
Chen jumped between them. “Get the fire going before the horses bleed to death,” he snapped. “The lottery stands as it is.”
The scouts returned with the first evening star. Even before they dismounted, Lalu knew from their faces that the situation was desperate. She felt a small flutter of hope. If the news was bad for the bandits, it might be good for her.
“Our rice is cooked,” Zhu reported. “Wu’s camp is deserted. Ma is taking his men up into Mongolia. And Gao’s band, poor bastards, must have been taken by surprise. They’re all dead.”
“We’ll hole up in Shanghai,” Chen decided.
“With soldiers crawling all over, we can’t make any raids. How will we eat?” his second-in-command asked.
“We’ll sell the whore.” Without pausing for discussion or argument, Chen continued, “There’ll be less chance of getting caught if we travel in smaller groups.” Swiftly, he selected four bandits to act as leaders and began dividing the men among them.
“Come here, Little Sister,” Ding hissed.
Lalu did not move.
“Come here,” Ding repeated more urgently. He edged closer. “Ride with me. I can help you.”
Lalu tightened her grip on her torn jacket. “Like you did when you brought me here?”
“You have to trust me. It will be days before we reach Shanghai and you will need my help. Like you did with Zhuo just now.”
He had helped her when Zhuo jumped her, Lalu admitted. And later, waiting for the scouts to return, he had stayed close, watching. She had thought he had been watching to see she did not escape. Now she wondered.
“The whore will ride with me,” Chen said.
Ding jerked Lalu toward him. “Save yourself the discomfort,” he said obsequiously. “I’ll make sure our little bag of gold doesn’t get lost.”
“Or damaged!” Chen warned, laughing.
“Or damaged,” Ding agreed, dragging Lalu to the tree where his horse waited.
EIGHT
They traveled hard, following narrow deer paths that ran along ridges and sides of mountains, making endless ascents and descents to avoid villages, military forts, and camps, stopping only when the horses were too exhausted to go any further. Then, while the horses grazed, the bandits, edgy, fatigued, and chronically hungry, vented their frustrations by baiting Lalu. But when they became rough or tried to force themselves on her, Ding held them at bay, reminding them that their futures depended on Lalu and the price she fetched.
It was also Ding who found a scrap of coarse netting to protect her from the mosquitoes, and Ding who made sure she got a portion of any food they forced from frightened woodcutters and farmers in isolated hamlets. Ding. A friend who cared about her as a person? Or an enemy looking out for his own interests, protecting her like a landlord protects his property? She had to find out.
Riding night and day, with sleep coming in stolen snatches, Lalu lost track of time, and she worried that they would reach Shanghai before she had a chance to speak to Ding without fear of being heard. But finally, on a scorching hot afternoon, as they were ascending a narrow valley choked with sword grass, thorny bushes, and vines, Ding’s horse, doubly burdened, fell behind.
Lalu waited impatiently for the distance between them and the rest of the group to widen. Then, relieved and nervous that the opportunity to talk had come at last, she blurted, “Why did you force me to come with you when I might have escaped?”
“Have there never been soldiers in your village?” Ding asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you know why I did not leave you.”
Lalu thought of the soldiers who had come to their village. She had been a child, too young to remember how they had behaved, but she remembered the farmers’ resentful comments to her father just bef
ore the bandit raid and Ding’s accusing, “You’re better off with us.” Were soldiers really as bad as bandits? Or, as Ding claimed, worse?
Lalu shook her head. Better or worse, the soldiers were not important. What was important was that Ding had believed he was helping her to escape from them. Would he help her escape now?
“I could have hidden from the soldiers and found my way to a village or city,” she suggested cautiously.
“A girl like yourself does not have one chance in ten thousand of traveling alone safely. But say you had made it to a village or city without being kidnapped or raped or killed, what would you have done then?” Ding asked, imitating Lalu’s careful phrasing.
“I would have found work.”
“Doing what?”
What kind of work could she do? No one would hire her as a farm laborer, but her fingers, used to a hoe, no longer held a needle with ease, and she had never learned to cook. What else was there? Babies. She loved caring for her brothers, and she was good with them, able to tease a smile from them when no one else could.
“A nursemaid. I could have been a nursemaid for a wealthy family.”
“And before you knew what was happening, you would have found yourself with life inside you from the master or one of the men servants.”
Lalu flushed. “My parents gave me better home teaching than that.”
“It’s not a matter of home teaching,” Ding said patiently. “You would have had no more choice than I or any of the others here had a choice to become bandits. And when you were discovered with child, it would have been you who were blamed and thrown out into the street. Then what would you have done?”
Lalu ignored his question. “What do you mean you had no choice in becoming a bandit?” she asked, puzzled. “You’re educated. I can tell by the way you speak. And your manners. You’re cultured, refined. Different from the others. From me.”
Thousand Pieces of Gold Page 4