The Silk Tree

by Julian Stockwin

  The wall neared, then the open gates – and they were through, in the outside world and on the road heading out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  In a line that stretched for over a mile the caravan wound down the dusty road, past the mean dwellings outside the gates of the town. Excited cries came from the local people.

  Another drone of chanting accompanied by horns and cymbals arose from the Buddhist monks. Not to be outdone the soldiers marching in the van began a full-throated song and then the women and girls of the caravan started a spirited chorus with tambourines and drums.

  The onlookers applauded, enraptured by the sight of a fabled caravan setting out for the vast unknown. Hundreds of camels mounted or led by as colourful and outlandish a mixture of races and dress as it was possible to be, all in gleeful celebration of their departing.

  It stirred Nicander’s soul – these people would be going about their ordinary lives again once they had watched them disappear toward the far-distant mountains, but they were destined to go where very few did, to lands and wonders, adventures and perils that would only tempt disbelief – if they got through.

  His eyes travelled to the far-off leaders, to the escort, with the easy swing of soldiers long inured to the march. They were followed by a single file of plodding camels piled high with goods, then a string of horses, more camels and then themselves, the travellers, perhaps no more than thirty.

  He swung round; close behind was their faithful camel.

  A shaggy merchant on a horse followed, his effortless sway showing an easy familiarity. Catching Nicander’s eyes the man launched into a raucous chorus of his own. Marius, beside him, suddenly bellowed out a legionary marching song: a relic of long ago, Rome defiantly rising up in the vastness of Sinae.

  Picking up the rear trotted the squadron of cavalry, for the occasion fully mailed and with gaudy pennons a-fly. These were following behind to keep watch on the whole line such that if any point was threatened they could gallop up to be on the scene without delay.

  The poorer shacks petered out and the road wound through near identical flat fields.

  One by one the songsters fell silent until there was nothing but the slithery jingle of harness and soft clop of hoofs, the creaking of wheels and occasional animal snort, a hypnotic backdrop to their slow but inexorable progress.

  Nicander took in the passing scene. The landscape seemed unchanging but he soon found that this was an illusion: at their deliberate walking pace the roadside passed by in an unchanging rhythm and the outer perspectives remained solid and unmoving. However, after an hour’s placid motion distant features had subtly changed their shape, had revealed more of one side.

  Of course, this is how it must be – great distances eaten up only by steady and continuous travel. Each new day they would press on in an achievement of endurance that eventually would see all of a thousand miles pass by.

  A horse cantered down the line. It was the caravan master who reined in when he saw Nicander.

  ‘How’s your lady?’ he demanded.

  Irritation boiled up in Nicander at the thought of the Ice Queen in her carriage telling her lady-in-waiting to take issue with them for their conditions. ‘How should I know – why don’t you ask her yourself?’

  The man’s face tightened. ‘Don’t come it the fool with me, Ni sheng! I could make it hard for you before the trip’s done.’

  Nicander regretted his outburst. Su was probably under a lot of strain at the outset of a major transit and a moaning female was not what was wanted at this stage.

  ‘She hasn’t complained to me, Su sheng.’

  The face eased. ‘Good. Let me know if …’

  Nicander nodded, resolving not to let the woman get to him again.

  The sun dipped in the sky, cooling the air. Shadows lengthened, evening crickets began their chorus.

  Idly Nicander wondered how they would spend their first night. The country was fully under cultivation, the intensive kind peculiar to China where fields ran close to the next with only a narrow path separating them. Where were five hundred camels going to fit?

  Soon they entered a small town, pulling off the main road into a lane and through a gate into an expansive quadrangle, much the same as the one in Chang An.

  Waiting for them was a line of men who moved forward as the head of the train came to a stop.

  ‘Dismount! All riders – dismount!’

  Nicander swung down painfully. So many hours in the saddle was going to take getting used to.

  Under the sharp eyes of the escort the men unloaded the goods the camels carried into carts, to be put under guard until morning while the camels were taken to their stables. A lad came for their horses and they were led away into the main building. There was no alternative but to stay close to Ying Mei for this was a caravanserai and there would be costs involved.

  They were efficiently dealt with: a cell for him and Marius on the lower floor with the constant stink of camels, rooms on the airy upper floor for the ladies.

  And within the hour a gong announced a meal.

  As this was a freight caravan the large hall was only partly occupied.

  Nicander held back until he could see how things would be handled. The monks sat by themselves at one table, the caravan crew were already at merriment at another and all the merchants and other passengers were beginning to gather together at a large communal table. There was no sign of Ying Mei or her sharp-tongued companion.

  ‘Come on, Marius. We’ll see who we’ve got for company. Some of ’em look interesting …’

  Before they could move Tai Yi’s voice behind them snapped, ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you two. Neglecting your duty, for shame! You’re engaged as protectors, your place is with My Lady while she dines.’

  ‘We’re monks, not guardsmen!’ Nicander said hotly. ‘We’ll sit wherever—’

  ‘Even holy men can feel hungry if their allowance is cut off! What’s it to be – your duty, or suffer your hunger pangs alone?’

  The four were granted a table away from the others.

  Nicander reluctantly conceded that two ladies on their own could be at the mercy of revellers if the night developed. For the first time they had revealed a touching dependency. It was a minor triumph and helped him put up with the stifling correctness at the table and perpetually averted gaze.

  His ill-humour returned seeing Marius fawning on the woman and the shameless adulation that the caravan master showed when he came up to enquire after her situation.

  However, after they had dined the ladies promptly went to their rooms and they were free for the night.

  Nicander was too restless for sleep even though warned they would be on their way at first light. He wandered out into the moonlit quadrangle. It was busy with men rubbing down horses, lamplit repairs to camel tack and a long line of animals being fed.

  It was a telling picture of the organisation behind an enterprise of this size and his business instinct shied at trying to calculate the overheads of half a thousand camels and horses, not to mention the costs of accommodation for the passage crew which must greatly outnumber the two-legged freight. No wonder the prices of goods passed from market to market in this way were so exorbitant by the time they’d reached their destination.

  He was pleased when he spotted his camel, who’d so patiently followed them all day. He was chewing rhythmically, jaws moving sideways. The beast gave no sign of recognition and a huge eye swivelled glassily away.

  A young man, probably one of the caravanserai men spelling the passage crew, emerged from the other side where he’d been inspecting one of the animal’s splayed feet. He looked up in surprise.

  ‘Do you know the name of this camel?’ Nicander asked.

  ‘Meng Hsiang,’ he answered warily. ‘Fifth time into the desert for this ’un. Never any bother.’

  Nicander felt a jet of pride that his camel had stood out in this man’s memory.

  ‘You’ll look after him, won’t
you?’

  It came out a little awkwardly but resulted in a pleased smile. ‘O’ course I will. This is your first trip?’

  He didn’t seem at all put off by talking to a bearded foreigner and Nicander realised that for him, the exotic must be commonplace.

  ‘First time. Tell me, why are there so many camels not loaded? There must be at least a couple of hundred not working, taking feed.’

  ‘Oh, this is the caravan master’s investment, he and his crew. Only the males take a load. There are spares but most of the others are females with their young. They’ll be sold for a good price somewhere along the way, already trained.’

  ‘Our Mr Su. A hard man.’

  ‘Has to be. Tells the camel wranglers what he wants and can’t let ’em slack off. Responsible for dealings with customs for unaccompanied cargo after every big stage. Has to know the border entry fees ahead of time, negotiate ’em down, know when to go around. If there’s a run-in between two oasis kingdoms he’s got to talk to both to let him through, and of course his is the last word on which direction to take after a sandstorm. Has to be hard.’

  Nicander nodded.

  ‘And did you know he’s got power of life or death?’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘If there’s misbehaving, thievery, suchlike, he can order the culprit thrown off the caravan. If this is in the Great Desert they’ve no hope.’

  ‘So, do what he says.’

  ‘A good idea. Look, I have to go now. ’Ware of the desert demons and have a good journey!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  They were roused before dawn and after a solid meal the caravan headed out. The same steady swing and plod, the snaking line ahead a ribbon of colour in the dun-grey and soft green of the fields, the distant smudge of the mountains always there.

  In a way it was soothing, the regular pace and sounds of leather against hide, the soft tinkle of bits and bridle on his mount blending with the same up and down the line. Nicander found himself surrendering to the rhythms of the journey.

  As the sun grew hot, pomegranates were issued, a surprisingly effective remedy against thirst but he was glad when they left the road to stop at a well-trodden riverbank to freshen the animals. The water gourd which had seemed so big when he’d bought it in Chang An now appeared such a puny thing to set against the dusty road and he drank sparingly.

  He saw Su chatting amiably with a merchant and waited his chance for a word.

  ‘Last night I was talking to one of the cameleers. He told me something of your work and I have to admit to having no idea of what a stiff job you do. You have my respect, Su sheng.’

  The weather-ravaged features eased slightly. ‘So what is it you’re wanting from me, Ni sheng? Something special for your fine lady?’

  ‘Not at all. I was just wondering … what will we see ahead?’

  ‘A few more weeks on this road takes us across the river and then to the edge of the desert. We can’t take that on, so we turn left and stick close to the mountains – the Kunlun we calls ’em – until we get all around to Khotan. Simple, really.’

  ‘I’m going to Aksu, Su sheng.’

  ‘Well, I can’t help you there. This caravan’s for Khotan and that’s where I stops. You’ll be continuing on around the desert rim with another. Ask him.’

  ‘I’ve heard the desert is a wicked place.’

  ‘It is,’ Su said seriously. ‘The worst in the world. We’ll be moving fast, though. Should be through to Khotan in a few months at the outside.’

  ‘What if there’s—’

  ‘You leave all the worrying to me, holy man. We’re on track and staying there. I’m a Sogdian, I take care to keep in with my friends and they’ll let me know if there’s trouble ahead.’

  ‘Will it always be like this? Apart from the desert, that is.’

  ‘Ha! You’ll be seeing sights you can’t imagine, feeling cold and heat like the poor bastards in hell but we’ll pull through. Never lost a caravan yet – if I did I wouldn’t be here, would I?’

  ‘The next …’

  ‘Crossing the Yellow River at Lan Chou. A bit of a spectacle there. Then naught much until we reaches the Great Desert and that’ll open your eyes. Dunhuang, the monks’ll go crazy and it’s a sight if you likes that kind of thing. Then a bit empty, like, until we reach …’

  So, months on the trail, just to reach the other side of this vast desert.

  That night it was much the same. A caravanserai effortlessly catering to their numbers, another tiny cell, and away at dawn.

  The ground was hilly, light forest crowning the slopes. They passed over the summit through a well-travelled cleft that exposed the fine-dust soil the Chinese called ‘yellow earth’ but on the other side the winds from the right increased, driving invisible particles of dust and sand to sting and irritate exposed skin. It stayed with them all day but mercifully eased towards the afternoon.

  Nicander peered into the distance. Was it his imagination or were the mountains closer?

  Marius had been riding alongside where he could. They talked occasionally, but mainly continued in companionable silence.

  Unexpectedly, with a full hour or more of daylight left, the leaders turned off the road into a sparsely grassed field and rotated to direct the caravan into a giant circle.

  ‘Dismount!’

  Nicander gave Marius a wary glance. This night they would spend without the convenience and comfort of a caravanserai.

  A fire was started, flaring and quickly growing bigger. To one side the camels were pegged out in several lines, the horses beyond. On the opposite side of the fire all unloaded freight was stacked together and guards posted.

  If they wanted a tent, apparently it would be extra. Feeling the night air coming on Nicander had his views but Marius chuckled, ‘We pocket the hire and kip out under the stars!’

  While the daylight lasted the tents were erected and owners’ packs transferred to them. Of strong goat-hide reinforced felt, they had a full eight guy lines each side as if at any time expecting a gale of wind. Peeking inside one Nicander saw that it was remarkably snug, with sewn-in hooks for belongings and a substantial ground covering.

  As the chill of the evening drew in, people moved to the fire, taking bedrolls or other articles to sit on and it quickly became the centre of activity. Not far away there was a kitchen with its own fire contained in iron fittings already sizzling with activity – three vast pans, each a yard across, conjuring a hearty meal of vegetables, rice and chicken.

  When the Ice Queen did not appear from her tent Nicander gleefully realised he could take his choice of companions at dinner.

  The monks were together, chatting solemnly, he’d let them be. A cloaked merchant sat with his wife holding court to several around him and another group had settled around a portly man in finer dress than the others. On impulse Nicander went over to a young man sitting at the edge. Marius followed.

  ‘May I sit here? I’m Ni K’an Ta of Ta Hsin, this is Ma Lai Ssu.’

  ‘Wu Kuo Chin. Ta Hsin – I haven’t heard …?’

  ‘A far kingdom. We’re holy men on a journey to seek after truth.’

  ‘I’m an officer of the Imperial Bannermen.’

  Nicander froze. A soldier of the Emperor sent to root them out?

  ‘Ah. How strange – may we know why it is you’re in this caravan?’

  ‘It’s the usual way for officers to travel out to join their garrison at the border.’

  ‘I see,’ said Nicander in relief. ‘Forgive me, this is my first visit to your land.’

  ‘Do you know much of our past, Ni lao na?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d wish to.’

  ‘Well, understand that from the time of the Han dynasty we have held the lands to the west for the Empire, including the Great Desert at its heart. Now, since we’ve suffered unrest and … and uncertainty on the Celestial Throne, we have lost them. Only our watchtowers and garrisons at the edge of the desert stand between us and the barbari
ans.’

  ‘A challenging post, Wu hsien sheng.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Not as fearful as for an official who must enter in upon these lands to regulate our lawful tribute of the lesser kingdoms!’ the well-dressed fat man called across.

  ‘Tribute?’ the merchant sitting with his wife scoffed. ‘This is trade’s increase only! We’re the one’s with all the risks – and no one at our backs to come rescue if things get hard for us.’

  ‘You’ve a venture on this caravan?’ Nicander asked.

  ‘I have – silk and porcelain out, carpets and glassware by return.’ He was strong-faced, bearded and wearing a curious tall hat, some outlander that Nicander hadn’t yet learnt to recognise.

  ‘You’d be looking to a respectable return, then, the overheads and fees being what they are,’ Nicander said without thinking.

  Talk stopped and faces turned to look at him suspiciously.

  ‘So you know these things?’ the man said slowly.

  ‘Oh, my father – he’s in the incense trade. Many times have I heard him complain about them.’

  ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Ni K’an Ta. And yours?’

  ‘Korkut the Rouran. Then what are you about – that is, when you’re not being holy?’

  ‘We seek truth wherever it may be in this world.’

  ‘That’s what spies do.’

  ‘We’re as well accompanying the Lady P’eng to Aksu.’

  ‘Ah. The noble lady. It’s not often we see ones of her quality on a freight run. Can you tell us for what reason she’s journeying?’

  ‘She’s been summoned by her father in Aksu who is in his final sickness.’

  ‘How sad.’ He paused, ‘But that’s funny – I know Aksu and there’s no P’eng at that level in the place.’

  ‘She was sent to live with her rich uncle in Chang An,’ Nicander said quickly. ‘Her father is not of that sort.’

  ‘Then why does she not travel in some style?’