The Silk Tree

by Julian Stockwin

  Soon the whole river was a dazzling display of bobbing floats intermingling as they were carried away on their romantic mission. She watched as they sailed further and further along until the pinpricks of light began to disappear one by one.

  Ying Mei was happier now than she had been for an achingly long time. On this adventure she was tasting a freedom she had never before experienced in her life. No more stifling correctness of court, rigid rules and excruciating rituals of etiquette. No longer was there the necessity to guard every word and move for fear it could be used against an innocent, and gone too was the train of those set about her, watching her day and night. Now there was only the ever-faithful Lai Tai Yi, at the moment down at the water playing with the children.

  Dear Ah Lai! She had made the sacrifice of her own future to accompany her into exile and share whatever lay ahead. And she was watching over her just as she had when she’d been a child and now had gamely taken on this very different world.

  She hoped that she had not disappointed too much in her behaviour but it really was impossible to sustain the front of a noble lady any more. Later, when the journey was over she would mend her ways.

  She looked to where Marius, also down at the river, was rescuing a float for a crying child.

  Her father had been very astute in choosing her two protectors, for apart from being from the Western Lands themselves they were holy men and therefore to be trusted.

  She smiled as she remembered their arrival and transformation from holy men on a quest, into the beastmaster’s star comic turn. It must have been hard for them, especially for the big Ma Lai Ssu who stood every inch the proud barbarian.

  She wondered why he had chosen to be a holy man on a sacred mission for there was little that was outwardly sensitive or contemplative about him. Bold-eyed and confident he strode fearlessly through life and stepped aside for no man. This was not the bearing or attitude of the clerics she knew.

  And he looked as if he’d seen a lot of the world, one not to be too easily taken by surprise, who could be relied on in frightening situations. In fact, he had the build of a warrior with that deep chest, muscular arms and those massive thews she had seen at the river as they were escaping.

  She caught herself: was she physically excited by Ma Lai Ssu? He was a barbarian, uncouth and with crude Chinese but as a man he stood head and shoulders above the rest she had known. Others in the court she was familiar with were primped and pampered, knew poetry and the classics but they had little …

  It was odd, though. The two holy men were so different to each other.

  Ni K’an Ta was more of a mystery – the more perceptive of the two, he had been cooler to her. Was this because he didn’t like her? Or was he holding himself distant because of his piety and vows? He had spent a lot of time at the monastery in retreat, even missing this feast. Yes, it was probably that – he was holding true to his calling, and she must respect this.

  But then again, could it be that he was disappointed in her behaviour? That he expected more of the noblewoman? She vowed to be more ladylike the next time she met him.

  Even so, it was strange that she had never seen or heard either of them at their devotions. This could be that they worshipped a god of the night who could not be approached during daylight. But it was not proper for her to pry.

  Marius came up from the water, laughing. ‘Stupid child got the frights, thought I was a hungry ghost!’ he chuckled, stroking his dark beard.

  ‘Do sit!’ she commanded, shifting along to make room for him.

  Surprised, the big man obeyed. She became aware immediately of the musky scent of masculinity and its secret thrill caught her off guard.

  ‘Ah Wu,’ she said self-consciously. ‘The fierce one. A good name for you, I think, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, M’ Lady,’ he said.

  ‘It’s Ying Mei.’

  ‘Y-Ying Mei.’

  She was touched – he was shy with her, like a little boy!

  ‘That’s better. Tell me, Ah Wu, what tribe do you come from?’

  ‘I’m a Roman!’ he growled.

  ‘Wo Mun. “The culture of the commonality”. Wonderful! A deep meaning indeed.’

  He didn’t reply and lowered his head awkwardly.

  ‘Tell me. When you decided to become a holy man, did your family approve?’

  ‘I didn’t ask ’em.’

  ‘Not even the … lady you were attached to?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you gave her up for a holy life. Do you miss her?’

  ‘Why are you asking me questions?’

  ‘Well, it always puzzles me that the first thing a holy man does is to put away his feelings for the opposite sex. Can you not feel it in you to respond to the love of a woman – that is, if it is true and honourable?’

  He looked at her with a twisted smile. ‘I reckon that whichever way you say it, a holy man can only be man first, holy second. Is that what you’re asking?’

  Ying Mei felt herself blushing. ‘I didn’t wish to intrude, please forgive me.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  ‘Where the hell have you been, Nico?’ Marius asked indignantly. ‘I get this stupid message about you stopping at the monastery, which of course you didn’t, did you? On the town with one o’ those Kuchean tarts, I reckon!’

  ‘Actually I was there. Learning to look inside myself, see past things into the real world …’ He tailed off.

  ‘So you’re going to join that Buddha crew, spend your day on all that fool mumbling!’

  ‘No, I won’t. The sage who I’ve been talking to isn’t one of those, he takes all philosophy and learning as one and—’

  ‘Well don’t start boring me with it all. Don’t you know you missed the Feast o’ Lanterns? Had to take the women myself, all that ooh and aah at these pretty lights on the water and stuff. Bloody fine eating after, though, believe me. Anyway, Su Li is in a fit, wants to be away off while things are right for us.’

  The caravan master was everywhere, chivvying, driving, directing. Another camel train had come through from the opposite direction and had reported that there were no troubles in the oasis realms that lay ahead of them and that the going was good. Su let it be known he would be displeased at anyone who got in his way, or made it difficult for the caravan to leave for Karashahr within the next day or two.

  ‘No, that won’t be possible.’ Tai Yi was in no mood to change her mind about spending good money. ‘My Lady Kuo has a mount, you do not.’

  So it was ‘Lady Kuo’ still, as far as she was concerned. ‘Not even a camel?’

  ‘Certainly not! You will walk, as will I, and there’s an end to it.’

  It would be sand the whole way by all accounts so they took Korkut’s advice and found special shoes in the market. These laced up tight above the ankles and being made of camel skin had a flexibility the heavier ox-hide did not.

  ‘Bugger that old woman,’ Marius grated. ‘What right has she—’

  ‘She’s the one with the silver,’ Nicander replied matter-of-factly. ‘So we walk.’

  ‘I’ve a mind to do something about it. Come on.’

  They went to the caravanserai where the camels were being prepared. Nicander was pleased when Meng Hsiang gave a snort of recognition.

  ‘He’s remembering me!’ he chuckled to Arif, the young cameleer who was combing him down.

  ‘If you are kind to him, of course!’

  Marius didn’t waste time. ‘How are the females?’

  ‘Two sick, lost five calves on the way – why do you want to know? You going to buy one?’

  ‘How many young ’uns?’

  ‘Thirty-two – no, six.’

  ‘You’ll get a good price for ’em all when they’re ready.’

  ‘Yes?’ Arif said warily.

  ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do for you. Any young beasts as are newly broken in, why, we’ll take one and by riding him all day get him used to the saddle, like. You can sell him for more t
hat way.’

  Arif grinned. ‘I understand. We do this if you man enough!’

  ‘Go and get one, let’s try it.’

  The cameleer went to a string of young camels at a rail and patted one affectionately before untying it and bringing it over. ‘Meng Hsiao – baby Meng. One of your Meng Hsiang’s own sons.’

  The father gave a glassy stare of indifference but the young one pawed the ground restlessly, his eyes rolling.

  ‘Say hello, he know who you are.’

  Marius came forward cautiously but before he could say anything the head reared up and a frightful set of bared teeth clashed ominously.

  ‘Hey, hey, Meng Hsiao, he a friend,’ Arif said reprovingly, then to Marius, ‘Touch his muzzle, talk.’

  The long-lashed eyes were beautiful and Marius reached out to stroke the downy brown fur. The head recoiled and before he could react the camel spat at him, stinking ejecta catching him on his cheek and shoulder.

  ‘The fucking bastard!’ Marius roared in Latin, wiping his face, ‘He’s scored one on me!’

  The camel jibbed fretfully.

  ‘Try – hold your hand in front of his nose so he smell you, then do.’

  Eventually they came to speaking terms and Arif was satisfied. ‘Now we ride him.’

  Meng Hsiao was made to kneel, which he did unwillingly.

  ‘Get on.’

  Marius gingerly slid between the two humps, holding on by a scruff of hair on the mane. ‘Where’s the reins?’ he demanded.

  ‘This not a horse, lao na,’ Arif said. ‘You ready?’

  The camel snarled menacingly, its head twisting to see what was on its back.

  ‘Yes. Get it going.’

  Arif thwacked its hindquarters. Meng Hsiao gave an ill-tempered low grumble.

  He gave another slap. Without warning the back legs levered up on the knuckled forefeet and Marius was jerked forward wildly. His grip on the mane was the only thing that saved him from a hard landing but then the front legs came into play and he shot backwards, hanging on grimly.

  Marius found himself sitting precariously atop a nervously gyrating camel. The animal eventually settled and stood still, the hide on its back giving nervous twitches as though trying to rid itself of a foreign object.

  ‘Well done!’ Arif said with a wide smile.

  Marius clung on tightly to the mane. ‘How do you steer the beggar?’

  ‘Don’t worry. Meng Hsiao follow his father, who is bigger.’

  ‘Well, then. Now make him let me off.’

  There were newcomers joining the caravan: a troupe of entertainers who plied the northern route and a party of monks on their way to the oases of the west. Two of the merchants had decided that they’d had enough and after disposing of their wares planned to return as soon as possible but the others were keen to take advantage of a caravan heading in that direction.

  In the morning, bright and early, they set out again.

  But of Dao Pa, there was no sign at all.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The first day promised well of their journey as they threaded along roads passing sweet-smelling melon beds, orchards with fruit in season and clumps of giant sunflowers three feet across whose seeds Korkut declared were excellent eating.

  Soon however they were away from the intensive irrigation works and the familiar desert landscape returned.

  Ying Mei rode a steppe pony, now with an easy grace and in colourful riding dress while the ever-faithful Tai Yi walked beside her. Then came Meng Hsiang and tagging along beside was Meng Hsiao, getting used to being away from the females and other young.

  Marius had quickly adopted the lazy sway of a cameleer, finding there was no need to hang on at all.

  At midday it was Nicander’s turn to ride and he tried to copy Marius’s easy posture as the rhythm of stately sway and rocking took hold. But when the camel train came to a halt that evening he was grateful to be able to stretch his aching muscles.

  The stopping place was well chosen, between two spurs of the Tien Shan and with firm ground. The crew energetically got to work in anticipation of the entertainment. The space around the fire was widened and traveller and cameleer quickly found places.

  Ying Mei felt an expectant thrill. These, of course, would not be as accomplished as performers at the imperial court but their stage was the grand spectacle of the desert at night, under the stars by the dancing flames of the firelight.

  A troupe of musicians came on with their instruments and squatted to one side, opening with a lively piece.

  The show started with the acrobats: young girls in crimson blouses and green tasselled trousers skilfully leaping and throwing each other aloft in time to the music.

  When the applause finished they scampered off to allow a pair of dancers to steal in opposite one another. The slim-waisted woman had dark curled locks and long legs half-concealed within mysterious gauze finery. The man, in a dashing costume with sparkling gems on his bared chest, prowled like a panther around her to the sensuous throbbing of the drum.

  Ying Mei stole a glance at the two holy men: Marius was rapt, watching with undisguised excitement the intertwined playing of hands and the woman’s wanton pout.

  Nicander was taking it in, but had a distracted frown – was this because he was disapproving or was he regretting his status as a holy man?

  As the dance livened Ying Mei found herself caught up in its charged atmosphere. Beside her Tai Yi shifted uncomfortably so she quickly assumed an immobile expression in the best traditions of an imperial court.

  The acrobats came on again with somersaults and juggling and were followed by three female contortionists who drew gasps from the crowd.

  Ying Mei noticed Nicander and Marius lean back in conversation. Was this not to their foreign taste?

  In fact, she wondered, what was?

  She knew nothing about them, really – they were barbarians, from somewhere in the outer world beyond the bounds of civilisation. But did they have any culture or civilisation of their own – she doubted it, for all the peoples she had heard of shaded by degrees from the Middle Kingdom’s delicacy and elegance into the unspeakable brutality of its far borderlands.

  Her protectors were holy men seeking after truths, so it was understandable that they would come to China in this quest. Who could foresee that they would be caught by pirates and sold into slavery? The strange part was that now neither seemed particularly interested in the gentility and aesthetics of the greatest civilisation of them all.

  Yet they were taking back to their kingdom a wonderful treasure of precious works of literature and philosophy – which neither of them was able to read! What did this say about their mission to seek the great truths of mankind?

  There could be only one explanation: their searing experiences at Yeh Ch’eng had soured them on Chinese culture.

  And, she reminded herself, the works they carried and looked after so well in their little chest were there only as ‘holy scriptures’ as a cover for their leaving China and would probably be discarded at the first opportunity.

  A new set of performers pranced on, the famous Sogdian whirling dancers, entrancing the crowd with trailing ribbons and dazzling smiles.

  Ying Mei glanced again at Nicander and Marius; both seemed to be enjoying this part of the show – or was it the Turfan wine?

  One thing was certain: the freedoms and spice of danger was making this the adventure of a lifetime for her. It wouldn’t last, though. Sooner or later they would cross the mountains and she would be duly delivered to the Western Lands and left to find a new life.

  She had to face it with courage and resolve – which for her father’s sake she would – but it was a frightening thought. Was there nothing that could prepare her for exile?

  Then a daring thought came. She would get the holy men to teach her the language of their tribe, and as well perhaps discover what it was like to live there, the customs and etiquette of the natives. She had her gold secreted away with
more to be withdrawn from her uncle’s agent in Kucha but would this be enough to sustain the life of a gentle lady in their society?

  How amusing to think of Marius teaching her elements of societal delicacy! It would be fun – but on reflection she realised that Nicander was more suited. He had been quicker to pick up spoken Chinese and was intelligent enough to go about selecting what were the more important aspects for her to learn on his side. But with his religious outlook would he agree to teach a woman?

  There was one thing she could offer. In return for teaching her his barbarian ways she could make him literate – teach him written Chinese so that when he arrived back, the ‘scriptures’ would have some value.

  The more she thought about it the better she liked the idea. She would make it her mission to reveal to him the enthralling beauty of the poetics and subtle strength of the prose of the ancients, to bring him to a realisation and respect of the glory that was Chinese culture.

  The last act, a trio of madcap dwarfs, ended the entertainment in a riot of laughs.

  ‘Well done!’ Ying Mei called and was generous when the gratuities bowl went round.

  ‘Ah Yung, did you enjoy it?’ she called sweetly.

  Tai Yi threw a reproving look at Ying Mei.

  She ignored her and went over to Nicander. ‘There’s something I want to ask you, a favour which I would very much appreciate.’

  ‘Why, if it’s possible, of course.’

  ‘I was just thinking. I’m to go to the Western Lands and then you’ll leave me there and I’ll be on my own. I’d be grateful if before then you could teach me your language, tell me what to expect and prepare for. In return I agree to teach you Chinese characters so then you’ll be able to read your scriptures when you get back.’

  Tai Yi bristled. ‘My Lady! This is impossible! These two are barbarians and it’s well known that such are quite incapable of a true understanding of the sages. A waste of time!’

  ‘Really?’ said Nicander. ‘Then, Lai hsiao chieh, I’d be interested in your views of why Lao Tzu denies transcendence in the Tao. How can this be?’