The Ensign opens the door a crack. It creaks ominously.
Slowly, he pokes his head outside. Whatever he sees reassures him.
‘Quick!’ he murmurs.
We file out into a narrow alleyway at the rear of the prison. The path smells of ordure and we soon pass a walled dung heap. I cry out involuntarily. A corpse lies on the manure, his arms and legs splayed, eyes glinting dully at the sky. Three large pigs snuffle around him.
We shuffle through the darkness to a postern gate in the wall of the Prefect’s enclosure. Beyond lies a dark road lined by mulberry trees and low houses. We are free! Can it be so easy? The Ensign barely hides his triumph. We follow him into the street and he closes the door behind him. Then my misgivings begin, for there is no sign of horses. The Ensign sheathes his sword and I turn to Thousand- li-drunk.
‘Where now?’ I whisper. ‘Where are the horses?’
Thousand- li-drunk flaps his hands. His face is pale as mourning clothes. He is shaking. I have never seen him truly afraid before. It is hardly a sight to inspire confidence. What he lacks in courage the Ensign Tzi-Lu offers in abundance.
‘Follow me, Your Excellency,’ he murmurs.
It seems I exist merely as P’ei Ti’s shadow.
P’ei Ti nods stiffly.
‘We are wholly reliant on you,’ he says.
*
Now begins a journey across Chunming fit for bad dreams. Every corner might conceal enemies. With each moment that passes I expect shouts of pursuit. I am filled with a strange certainty that I will meet Youngest Son somewhere in this darkness, that he will join our motley band. Under a son’s protection I might feel safe. But he is far away. Or dead.
Finally, we halt in sight of the Western Ramparts, hiding in the shadow of a derelict temple. We wait expectantly.
The Ensign Tzi-Lu bows to P’ei Ti and offers us food and drink. It is strange to see a great man gobble like a beggar. I’m sure I look no better.
‘We have not been able to get horses, Your Excellency,’
he whispers. ‘The rebels have taken every last one in the city. But I’ve got a ladder hidden by the walls. We’ll climb it, then lower ourselves by rope. No one will know how we have left Chunming.’
P’ei Ti nods solemnly.
‘Get on with it, young man.’
Our party hastens to the shadowy foot of the ramparts.
A dog barks further up the alleyway. The Ensign seems to be casting about for something. We wait anxiously as he walks up and down, evidently agitated. In one of the hovels behind us, I hear a querulous voice. When the Ensign returns his head is bowed.
‘Forgive me, Your Excellency,’ he mutters. ‘The ladder is missing. And the ropes. Perhaps they have been stolen.’
We glance uncertainly among each other. P’ei Ti’s breath hisses with frustration. As for me, I sense only inevitability. For a long moment we huddle in the alley, eight armed men and Thousand- li-drunk, not to mention two decrepit fellows useless in a fight.
‘Your Excellency,’ says Ensign Tzi-Lu. ‘I have a plan.
We shall march up to the West Gate, pretending that you are our prisoners. Once there we shall bluff our way through and escape. If need be, we shall dispatch the guards.’
P’ei Ti and I regard him in amazement.
‘That is a crazy plan,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ says Thousand- li-drunk. ‘Insane folly.’
‘What choice do we have?’ demands the Ensign. ‘At any moment the warders may be discovered and a general alarm raised. Consider, General An-Shu has emptied the city of all available men. There will only be a skeleton guard on the West Gate for the Imperial army is attacking from the east.’
He sounds eager to convince himself.
‘We can hide at the bird-seller’s shop,’ protests Thousand- li-drunk.
‘That is not practicable,’ counters the Ensign. ‘We will never make it there without being seen.’
If our situation weren’t so desperate, I might laugh. Our saviours look absurdly like brigands. Yet they have already proved themselves capable of daring. The question is settled unexpectedly.
‘We shall do as this officer thinks best,’ announces P’ei Ti. ‘I have faith in his judgement.’
The Ensign Tzi-Lu puffs with pride.
It is only a little way to the West Gate. We make hasty plans. Thousand- li-drunk produces a tattered document which I recognise as a licence to beg. Clearly, we must pray the guards are not only imbeciles but illiterate.
Starlight and lanterns illumine our way as we approach the gate, marching in strict military style. P’ei Ti, Thousand- li-drunk and myself shuffle along, pretending to have bound hands. As we draw near, guards pour out of their quarters wearing the tatty uniform of the Penal Battalion. Five, six, then eight and nine, including a sergeant. Who would have expected so many?
‘Halt!’ calls the sergeant, one hand on his sword.
We do so.
‘Special prisoners!’ replies the Ensign. ‘We must be allowed instant passage. Open the gate!’
The sergeant frowns.
‘I have orders not to open the gate for anyone.’
‘His Highness wants these prisoners removed from the city,’ says the Ensign, stepping closer.
‘Where is your pass?’ demands the sergeant.
‘I have it here.’
The Ensign walks boldly up to the sergeant. There is a sudden movement. His knife protrudes from the sergeant’s throat. Blood spatters on the ground in a thin spray. Then the sergeant collapses. For a long moment the guards watch in horror. Suddenly the gateway is full of fighting men. The clank of iron on iron fills the air. P’ei Ti and I shrink against a wall. The fight seems to last many minutes. Four of our escort are dying or grievously wounded, amidst half a dozen of our enemies. The rest have fled.
The Ensign summons us over, gasping. He has taken a wound to his chest.
‘The gates!’ he croaks.
As his men open them, we hear pounding feet on the rampart above us, shouted orders.
‘Now!’ he cries. ‘Now! Or rot here forever!’
*
We need no encouragement. P’ei Ti, Thousand- li-drunk, Golden Bells and myself stumble through the gateway onto the exposed road beyond. The pitiful remainder of our escort follows. It is dark, yet there is enough starlight to shoot by. Crossbow bolts land among us. The last of our remaining soldiers fall. A shaft pierces Thousand- li-drunk’s basket. He slows to taunt the man who fired it, then another bolt appears in his exposed chest. With a short scream, he crumples. More missiles descend, they have found the range now. Yet by Heaven’s will we are unscathed. Darkness conceals us. We have escaped Chunming!
The Ensign Tzi-Lu leads us into a field and we hobble over the sticky earth and hide in a stand of bamboo.
Escaping Chunming is one thing. Preserving our liberty quite another. We are a pitiful remnant.
Thousand- li-drunk’s loss affects me deeply. I always suspected he might be an Immortal, and now he lies pierced by a crossbow bolt. His arrival in Wei every spring coincided with the plum blossom. His cryptic utterances over decades of my life have come to just this: a mouthful of dusty road.
There is no time to mourn. I survey our forces. The Ensign Tzi-Lu staunching the wound on his chest with a strip of torn cloth. Golden Bells squatting on the ground, dazed by violence. And P’ei Ti slumped against a gnarled root, evidently exhausted. As for myself, I might despair if not for one certainty. Somehow I must frustrate the horsemen riding to destroy my family. An insane restlessness grips me. To an onlooker it might seem resolution.
‘We cannot stay here!’ I say. ‘We are less than three li from Chunming and dawn is coming.’
Indeed, the first rays are brightening the eastern horizon, rising above the watchtowers and walls of Chunming. The West Gate is illuminated by lanterns and even my poor eyesight detects movement. When the Excellent Yuan Chu-Sou finds out we have escaped, his rage will ensure a swift pursuit. Ensign Tzi-Lu
finishes fastening his bandage.
‘You are right,’ he says.
I await a bold stratagem. He looks around, and shivers.
‘We must find a place to hide before dawn comes,’ I suggest, helpfully. ‘No doubt you have somewhere in mind?’
He nods, then gestures vaguely into the darkness.
‘Have you really no plan?’ I ask. ‘What did you expect to happen once we got beyond the ramparts?’
He peers at His Excellency P’ei Ti to check whether he is listening. But my old friend seems stupefied. This is a cause for grave concern. If he cannot walk we are lost.
‘I did not expect any of this,’ admits the Ensign.
Now I must be the leader. It is a strange thing, this shuffling of responsibilities.
‘How far off is dawn?’ I ask.
‘An hour at most.’
In the midst of exhaustion I struggle to remember the land to the west of Chunming. I have ridden through this district often enough when returning to Wei, but always by the Western Highway. Only a fool would venture that way now.
As if in a dream, I recall encountering the deserters in Mallow Flower Marsh at the start of General An-Shu’s rebellion. They hid there for a reason. Such places are especially hard for horsemen to search.
‘I believe there is a swamp a few li from here,’ I say. ‘I glimpsed it often when travelling on the high road back to my home. We should go there, I think. As I recollect, there are many tall reeds to conceal us.’
‘A few li ?’ asks the gallant Ensign.
We both examine P’ei Ti. He is breathing heavily, his eyes closed. I turn to Golden Bells who is listening to our conversation.
‘Golden Bells,’ I say. ‘Now is the time to double your reward.’
He frowns.
‘Lord Yun Cai, I’ve delivered my part of the bargain.
More than my part. No one said anything about fighting.
I should be paid what I am owed, then I’m free to go.’
I sense the Ensign Tzi-Lu’s hand drifting to his sword.
‘You can only be paid when His Excellency is safe,’ I reason. ‘Besides, you are in too deep to falter now. I promise you this, Golden Bells: act like a man and you’ll never cease to be glad.’
He glances nervously at the ramparts of Chunming. I can tell he is ready to bolt.
‘His Excellency will grant you land as a further reward,’
I suggest. ‘We discussed the matter while in prison.’
I have no right to make such a promise. Yet I have not said how much land. It might amount to a pigsty. He wavers.
‘I am no soldier!’ he protests. ‘I don’t know how I lived through that fight by the gate.’
‘You do not have to be a soldier,’ I say, soothingly. ‘Just a porter.’
He follows my glance to P’ei Ti’s slumped frame.
‘Why, His Excellency is thinner than a cricket!’ I say.
‘And the Ensign Tzi-Lu will take his other arm.’
This is the moment of crisis. If Golden Bells deserts us now we are surely lost. Still he wavers.
‘All right,’ he grumbles. ‘I know you’re true to your word, Lord Yun Cai.’
Soon P’ei Ti sits cradled between Golden Bells and the Ensign. I am consigned to carry the weapons. If I am mistaken about the location of the marsh we might as well return to Chunming.
Casting a fearful glance back towards the city, I notice that a band of men have emerged bearing torches. We advance through stands of bamboo, clumps of mulberry trees, and every footstep leads us further from Chunming towards the mountains.
I awake from foul dreams to the music of reeds. Whenever the breeze lifts, ten thousand stalks murmur and sway.
They form the walls of our womb – or tomb. We sleep back to back, hidden from the prying eyes of all but birds.
P’ei Ti snores. Even Ensign Tzi-Lu and Golden Bells prop each other, utterly spent by the effort of carrying His Excellency. Only I am awake. If General An-Shu’s men came across us now they could take us without the least resistance. I listen. No voices, just wind through the reeds.
A yellow butterfly lands on my arm, slowly opening and closing its wings. I am too spent for further struggle and my eyes close.
A brisk shaking stirs me.
‘Shhhh!’
There are many ways of demanding silence. The Ensign’s tone is masterful. I freeze, but all I hear is the rustling of reeds. And then something else, indistinct yet recognisable: men’s voices, close by. The four of us concealed in the hollow of reeds meet each other’s eyes. How hungry we are, and thirsty! The voices recede. Golden Bells rises unexpectedly as though he means to betray our position. We stare in horror. He peers round the marsh, then bobs back down.
‘Soldiers,’ he whispers. ‘A dozen or so.’
‘Whose army do they belong to?’ I ask.
‘I could not tell.’
P’ei Ti clears his throat. Such is his authority, we all listen. He appears refreshed by his hours of sleep. I detect new strength in his bloodshot eyes.
‘If His Majesty’s army has prevailed, as surely they must, then the remnant of General An-Shu’s army must flee this way.’
We digest his idea.
‘That makes our position more precarious than ever,’ I say.
‘Not if we find His Majesty’s troops,’ says P’ei Ti.
‘How are we to know one from the other?’ I ask.
It is a good question. Not by their virtue, that is for sure. Perhaps by their uniforms, but even then one cannot be certain.
‘The best thing,’ I say. ‘Is to find a refuge. I propose that we travel to my home in Wei Valley.’
No doubt P’ei Ti sees through my motives. He looks at me sharply enough.
‘It is one of the Five Directions,’ he concedes. ‘At least it takes us away from Chunming.’
Golden Bells’ eyes gleam. He has every reason to support such a plan, but of course he is too lowly to be consulted. We turn to Ensign Tzi-Lu. The final decision must lie with him.
‘We have no food,’ he says. ‘No drink. We must leave this marsh soon. Why not return to Lord Yun Cai’s home?
We could easily hide in the hills.’
‘How far is it?’ asks P’ei Ti.
‘A good day’s walk to the foothills even if we travel on the Western Highway,’ I say. ‘We could follow the general course of the road, using fields and woods as cover. Once in the hills we should be able to buy horses.’
No one offers a better plan.
So the day passes. Now we acquire an unexpected leader.
Golden Bells proves wily as a bandit. A true peasant, he reads the land as well as his betters might a scroll and we make good progress, seldom more than a li or two from the road, yet distant enough to be unrecognisable to searching eyes.
The Ensign Tzi-Lu regularly surveys the travellers on the highway. They are many. Refugees from Chunming by the look of their wheelbarrows and handcarts.
Occasionally, small bands of hurrying soldiers. We take cover until they pass, then start again. All of us long to question those fleeing. Has General An-Shu joined battle?
Perhaps he has already been defeated, or maybe Heaven has decided to grant him victory and he is revelling in Chunming as we trudge west. Whenever we encounter signs of habitation Golden Bells leads us on a roundabout route to avoid village or house. This cannot continue.
Without food we will faint, though streams and ditches provide plenty to drink.
At last we glimpse a hamlet through a stand of trees.
P’ei Ti calls a halt.
‘I must eat,’ he croaks.
The Ensign bows submissively.
‘Your Excellency, I shall purchase food in the village,’ he says.
I meet Golden Bells’ eye. Tzi-Lu is too obviously a soldier, and a wounded one at that.
‘Send Golden Bells with a little money,’ I say.
The Ensign shakes his head vigorously.
‘Why
should he not desert us?’
Despite the gravity of our situation, I am annoyed on the fellow’s behalf.
‘Because he is a nung, a peasant, he will not stand out as you do,’ I say. ‘And he has proved his loyalty. I trust him.’
P’ei Ti nods once. So it is settled. We spend an anxious half hour. When Golden Bells returns he carries a basket of wind-dried pork and steamed rice, millet wrapped in lotus leaves, pickled sparrows and cucumber. A feast.
‘I told them my father is desperate for his last meal,’ he boasts as he stuffs himself. ‘And that no one should come near because he has the plague. They are all hiding in their houses anyway.’
I glance up sharply. Such a lie is a bad omen. No one else seems to notice, so I keep my fears to myself.
‘I heard something else,’ he continues. ‘Something bad.
General An-Shu surprised the Emperor’s men as they advanced on Chunming and trounced his army.’
Our jaws cease to move. The breeze ruffles the leaves of the copse.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask.
*
‘So they said.’
Our meal, delicious a moment before, tastes like saw-dust.
Shadows are lengthening as we reach the entrance to the foothills. From here on there is no alternative to the road.
A single ravine cuts through densely wooded slopes and the highway climbs with it. A place of dubious reputation.
Five hundred years ago, a minor prince of the royal family was robbed by bandits in the ravine, taking a fatal wound when he resisted. Ever since it has been known as the Valley of White Sighs. Once through, we will find many places to hide until the storm has exhausted itself around Chunming.
‘Your Excellency, are you well enough to attempt the climb?’ asks the Ensign Tzi-Lu.
P’ei Ti’s flush of strength is fading, yet he nods stiffly.
The entrance to the ravine is dark, ringed by huge sandstone boulders. Thorn bushes fill the gaps between the stones. A brace of cawing pheasants flutter over the deserted high road and I am afflicted by foreboding.
Pheasants represent an Empress. I think of the Lady Ta Chi.
‘Perhaps we should not attempt the ravine,’ I say. ‘It is a dangerous place. Let us find another way round.’
Taming Poison Dragons Page 48