Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

It was a near impossible demand: they grew only in the desert oasis of Turfan and would have to be shipped out packed in snow from the Tien Shan mountains.

Kao Yang glowered. ‘Do we have to show you how to serve an emperor? We’ll have some order in this court if we have to punish every last one of you. What do you say to that, Kuo?’

Calmly, he intoned, ‘Confucius said, “The progress of the superior man is upwards; the progress of the mean man is downwards.” Therefore it is to be understood-’

‘Yes, yes, we know all that. And if you’re going to be our grand chamberlain you’re to learn that this court will be run just how the Emperor of Ch’i wants it.’

Kuo bowed wordlessly.

‘Well? Do you want to be grand chamberlain? Swear to be our man, serve us only and so on?’

‘As this poor person is able, sire.’

‘Then you are so promoted. Let it be recorded.’

The small eyes grew calculating and cruel. ‘And as you’ll be serving me at all hours, we shall be merciful. Quarters will be provided for your family here in the palace.’ There was a significant pause before he added, ‘And from this hour they are not to quit the Inner Court for any reason at all – under pain of instant death! Does that please you, Grand Chamberlain?’

Ying Mei swayed with emotion. To be incarcerated within this insanity for ever – it was past imagining.

Kuo’s voice was controlled, his manner faultless, ‘As it is written: “A Prince should employ his ministers with courtesy. A minister should serve his Prince with loyalty.”’

‘Have a care, Grand Chamberlain. We don’t take to those who are always throwing words in our face!’ He drank deeply, then meaningfully held out the goblet to Kuo himself to fill. The Emperor’s face was flushed, whether from the wine or the intoxication of power it was difficult for Ying Mei to tell.

‘So. What is our first matter of state?’ Kao Yang pondered aloud. ‘Ah. It is – what should I do with the old emperor? Finish him now, or later? Public or private? Speak up then, Grand Chamberlain!’

‘Sire, that is a difficult matter. I can do no more than echo the words of the great Confucius: “He upon whom a moral duty devolves should not give way even to his master.”’

‘The gods rot your tongue, Kuo! Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

‘Our Heavenly Dragon will believe that the sages are our guide and safeguard, that we do not err in our-’

‘Enough!’ the Emperor roared, flinging the goblet at him. It missed, the priceless white jade shattering on the stone floor. ‘You’re besotted by words!’

His speech now slurred by drink, Kao Yang went on thickly, ‘Reading too much, all those scrolls, hours an’ hours – not natural!’

He slumped back, then eased into a cruel smile. ‘I’ve a cure for that, Kuo! Just the thing – this’ll stop your time-wasting!’

With a leer he hailed down the hall, ‘Send Master Feng to me!’

A dwarf dressed in shapeless black clothing ran up and grovelled at the Emperor’s feet.

‘Are you ready for work?’

Dark eyes looked up, a gobbling and energetic nodding the only reply – the creature was mute.

‘Very good.’ The Emperor paused for effect then hissed, ‘Put out his lights!’

‘No!’ shrieked Ying Mei, flinging herself prostrate.

‘Do it!’

Two soldiers seized Kuo by the arms and rotated him to face about, then forced him to his knees. With an inhuman calmness, Kuo lifted his head to gaze down the hall to where Ying Mei had been taken, weeping brokenly.

‘Now!’

Gibbering with delight, the dwarf fumbled inside his clothing and came out with a short, black instrument. He held it high for all to see. Attached to a simple handle was a small but very sharp curl of iron.

Gasps of fearful comprehension went up as it was brandished before Kuo, who refused to acknowledge it. The dwarf jabbed at his eyes but still he did not flinch.

In his last moments of sight, Kuo sought out his daughter and fixed on her with a terrible intensity – then the hook flashed out. It caught an eyeball and with a savage twist it was plucked out, simultaneously a knife slicing its nerves and muscles.

In a mist of horror and madness Ying Mei witnessed the other destroyed and then the dwarf stepped aside from his work and she saw her father’s noble face, pale and streaked – with two empty, bloody sockets, where that morning his kind eyes had looked upon her.

‘God only knows where we are on this earth,’ Nicander murmured, a new despair setting in; the further into these fantastical realms they went the more impossible it would be to ever retrace their steps.

They finally shaped course for land, towards a vast, sprawling seaport set in a bay between bare mountains.

On deck for exercise, Nicander and Marius mimed to their new master to be allowed to watch. As they came nearer, a panorama of roofs with upturned corners, spiky monoliths and the occasional grand building with red and gold ornamentation came into view.

Nicander and Marius were held to one side as they came into the wharf. The wafting odour of humanity, cooking and other smells of the city was utterly alien.

The boat gently bumped alongside and with a rising babble men swarmed aboard.

The pair were quickly escorted over the gangway. People stopped and stared then broke into a chatter of excited comment after they passed.

Then it was into a crowded street, pushing through gaping crowds to a courtyard with three carts, each drawn by a huge beast that stood patiently. Their heads had wide, spreading horns that were held low in a crooked curved harness. On one of the carts was a large cage made of ridged wood.

‘I’m not getting into that fucking thing!’ Marius protested.

‘I reckon it’s not so much to stop us, more to keep the others off our backs,’ Nicander muttered.

A crowd was building, some gawping and hesitantly approaching, others reaching to touch their faces.

Nicander hurriedly clambered in. Marius followed and they sat on the rush floor and peered out at the sea of faces.

With a crack of whips they jerked into motion.

Once over the surrounding hills the road settled to a slowly meandering route through fields of rice and grain, meticulously kept with narrow paths between and water channels in dead straight lines.

Workers with wide conical straw hats laboured on, not looking up.

The carts ground on through the flat and never-varying scene, hauled by the docile, plodding beasts.

What would become of them? In a land in which not even a word of the language made sense was there the possibility – as there was in the Roman world – that they could emerge from slavery and make a life? Both were unmarried – was there a woman for each out there who could take to them and their strange ways?

Or was it to be a path ending in miserable degradation, a spiralling down to the dregs of existence and a cur’s death?

On the fourth day the terrain changed into a broad plain between distant mountains and on the following day a yellow haze on the horizon betrayed the existence of a great city.

As they rumbled into the fringes the cart stopped and a cloth was spread over the cage. When they eventually came to a halt the cloth was flung back and Nicander and Marius saw they were in the grounds of an opulent villa.

There were men waiting in silken gowns and exotically coloured vestments, some with halberds, all with blank faces.

They were hustled in through a tiled gate with stylised lions on each side and across an inner courtyard to a large room where they were left in the care of a strapping woman in black and white with three giggling maids.