Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

In a surge of desperation Nicander left the line and ran to the elderly oriental in a full-length silk gown, whose eyes widened with astonishment. Nicander flung himself on his knees and mimed a heartfelt plea to be kept with his friend.

There was a torrent of jabbering. For a long moment the man stared down at him then imperiously gestured at the slave-keeper.

They would go as a pair. They were now the property of the man in the silk gown to do with as he wished.

He spent some time inspecting them, peering into their faces, especially that of Marius, whose pale-blue eyes seemed to fascinate him. Delicately he reached with his cane and lifted the front of his waistcloth, revealing the white skin of his loins. Satisfied, he let it drop and asked a question in a strange, song-like language.

Marius shook his head and the man repeated it several more times in different ways. At the incomprehension he smiled sadly but seemed satisfied with his purchase.

While the rest of the human cargo lay in the pit of an open hold amidships they were granted a small compartment in the bows, sheltered from rain and sun. It reeked of dried fish but it was out of the merciless sun and even had two circular holes in the side for fresh air.

There were two other two ships in their argosy – an exceedingly strange sight with their high square poop decks, flat ornamented sterns with a central rudder and a hull curved fore and aft. Most peculiar were the sails, a single rectangular one on both masts but with many rigid horizontal battens across them. A red flag with curious black markings was at the masthead of each.

Nicander and Marius were regularly allowed on deck for exercise.

They were well fed, too. At mealtimes they were given a bowl of rice, topped with small pieces of meat and vegetables.

It was not until they had been at sea for several days that Nicander tumbled to why they had been given special treatment.

‘It’s because we’re a rare breed, different to these we see around us. See how they’re all black-haired and have those foreign eyes? Flat noses and dark eyes, every one. We stand out a bit – especially you, Marius.’

He fiddled with the new clothes they’d been issued, loose baggy trousers and a simple round-collared tunic that opened in the front and was held by a small sash. On their feet they had sandals with a sole of dried rushes.

‘But that’s good! If we’re prize breeds we won’t be worked to death on a farm, we’ll be shown off at feasts and such!’

‘Or we could be thrown in as gladiator meat. The crowds’ll go crazy to see the end of a pair of ugly outlanders.’

The dawn came as it always did, a delicate rose touching every rooftop in Yeh Ch’eng in a show of splendour at the new day. But as the light strengthened, it brought another sight: spreading across the whole horizon to the north was an ochreous cloud, ugly and ominous. Lazily rising, it was driven up from the fine wind-blown soil around the Yellow River by the advance of a great army – of the warlord Kao Yang.

Rubbing her still-sleepy eyes, Ying Mei rose from her bed and went to the window. The yellow-brown line smudging the skyline was hateful and frightening. She could hear disturbances in the city as its significance spread.

She waited for Tai Yi to appear in attendance, but remembered that, of course, she had sent her away from the palace the previous night.

Then the bedroom door opened noiselessly and her Gold Lily Lady-in-Waiting entered.

‘Ah Lai! Why are you here?’ Ying Mei gasped.

‘Is not this my place of duty?’ she said, finding combs and ribbon.

‘You must leave, Ah Lai. It’s not safe any more!’

‘My family have gone, they are out of harm’s way, My Lady. But I would not rest if I thought my yuan kua was left unattended.’

She parted her mistress’s hair and brushed it in long, practised sweeps, then paused in mock irritation. ‘Do keep still, my pet,’ she said, positioning her head before continuing.

‘But you’ll-’

‘Things will go hard for us all soon, and you will need someone to look after you, my dear. Don’t worry, we’ll make do.’

Ying Mei choked back her feelings.

Kao Yang struck early. In the Hour of the Rabbit, before the more auspicious Hour of the Dragon could come, it was clear that a clash at arms was taking place just beyond the walls of the city. Faintly, on the still morning air, brassy stridency, screams and the continuous din of weapons carried out from a whirling ocean of dust that was blotting out the bloody scenes.

Ying Mei ran into the courtyard, trying to escape the terrifying sounds. Past the ornamental pond, the lion-carved gates empty of guards, she fled instinctively into the sanctuary of the Inner Court – and the Throne Room.

The incense braziers were not lit and the close odour of ancient decay lay heavy on the air. There were few officials in attendance but five loyal guards stood to attention close to the hanging gauze.

‘Is…?’ she gasped.

One nodded importantly.

She fell prostrate. ‘Heavenly Lord, I beg forgiveness for my intrusion. I… I-’

‘Be still, child. You come for reassurance from your emperor and that is a very natural thing.’ The voice had a strength in it, a dignity that reached out to her.

‘Sire – may I… c-could I s-stay here?’

‘Granted – if you do read to us from the classics of Han while we… wait.’

She rummaged in a nearby chest: works sanctified by the centuries, the learning of scholars in remote dynasties of China separated by vast gulfs of time, yet joined to the present by a golden thread of enduring values.

It steadied her as she read; the written characters, strong and upright, scribed by long-dead sages who seemed to be talking to her directly. The Book of Odes , the Great Learning , the Doctrine of the Mean . Confucius, K’uo Tzu, Ch’uang Tzu. She felt their strength and certainty – and was comforted.

She was deep into the transcendent mysteries of the I Ching , the Book of Changes, when the Grand Chamberlain appeared.

He said nothing but proceeded to perform a ceremonial kowtow, the three times three of prostrating full-length before his emperor, his forehead gently touching the ground repeatedly in humble obeisance.

He rose at last, and head bowed, intoned, ‘Great Ruler – the gravest of tidings. The Lord Kao Yang and General Wu met in battle and it is my solemn duty to inform the Dragon Throne that General Wu was overcome, his forces slaughtered. He was executed in the field.’

There was the briefest hesitation before he went on, ‘This, therefore, is the last sanction. Yeh Ch’eng must fall.’

From behind the hanging a serene voice replied, ‘We understand.’

‘Does the Son of Heaven comprehend also that there is still a little time in which the way is clear for a retreat to-’

‘The Empire of Wei will not be yielded up by flight. We will occupy the throne until heaven mandates otherwise.’

The Grand Chamberlain bowed silently and withdrew to the shadows where he stood motionless, waiting. Others joined him; quiet, expressionless, dignified.

A towering stillness descended.

Long minutes turned into an hour. Distant sounds of cries, the rumbling of massed horses and full-throated shouts came fitfully.

Another hour passed. The noise faded and there was now nothing but a death-like silence. It seemed to Ying Mei that the world was clamped into an infinite suspension of time, an unreal floating of the spirit in a state of-

The door crashed open and a dozen warriors burst in. Swarthy, and in field tunics stained from the battlefield, they bore Kao Yang’s cruel falcon cipher. Fanning out quickly, with swords up, they took commanding positions.