Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

‘I’m sure you will.’

‘But what will we use for the writing?’

‘Ah. My teacher today told me there is much to learn first. I think these are very wise words.’

He grinned. ‘He must be a fine teacher. So what must we do?’

She assumed a grave expression. ‘The first is to acquire a proper respect for the power of the characters, the play between words and meaning. Please listen carefully to this quatrain.’

Closing her eyes she recited:

‘Than colours of the peony

my raiment is more fair.

The breeze across the palace lake

takes fragrance from my hair’.

‘You see? So sublime – and only four characters in each line. And this one…’

For Nicander, who only knew the tongue from workaday utility and Dao Pa’s stern metaphysics, the beauty leapt out at him. She recited three more and then got out her portable writing set, an inkstone and a selection of brushes on their stand.

Taking just one character from each line she showed how a delicate shading of understanding was built up by a coalescing of the individual meanings of its elements. Then she used the same character several times in company with others. In each case the totality of what was derived had a subtle difference.

Where each Greek word was fixed and immutable in meaning, in Chinese it was a much more supple process. If in Greek there was no exact word for an intended meaning then it was too bad, the conceit could not be put across. In this language, however, something could be built up in order to match the precise requirement of what was intended; there was the possibility of an infinite variation.

It was a revelation.

In the predawn chill the two holy men waited by Meng Hsiang, already harnessed and loaded.

‘So how’s it going for you?’ Marius said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You can’t fool this old soldier!’ he sniggered. ‘Although how you’re going to get the old biddy out of the way…’

‘You bastard, Marius. That’s not how it is at all!’

‘Oh? So you’re hanging about just in case she needs a fan or something.’

‘No!’

‘I’ve seen how she looks at you! She’s out to make a monkey of you, Nico, take it from me – I know women, and this one’s bad news.’

‘You’re jealous! That’s what it is, you’re jealous!’

‘Look at her – she’s a fucking high-born and there’s no way she’s for you. She’s just playing around with who’s available!’

Nicander went rigid. ‘She’s an honourable, intelligent lady. She knows literature and the arts and-’

‘Hah! All right – tell me what you’re talking about all this time.’

‘Why, the history and geography of Greece and Rome, the-’

‘I’ll bet you everything I have… that she tries every time to get personal – embarrassing, like. That’s what women do when they want to throw you off guard, get things started down the track they want. Am I right?’

Breathing hard, Nicander kept himself in check. ‘I don’t think I want to continue this conversation. She’s asked me for help and I’m giving it to her, and that’s an end to it.’

Marius threw off a harsh laugh and busied himself with Meng Hsiao.

Su came slowly down the line with his crew on his inspection, grunting a few words to them in the pale light of the morning before passing on.

‘Good morning, sirs!’ Ying Mei said gaily as she approached. ‘You look a little out of sorts, Ah Wu. You are well, I hope?’

‘My teacher!’ she said to Nicander and gave a decorous courtly bow.

He blushed but hid it by returning the courtesy.

She touched his hand. ‘I am going to have my next lesson today, aren’t I?’ she asked softly.

‘Yes, of course,’ Nicander said uncomfortably, feeling Marius’s gaze on him. ‘Lesson two.’

‘Then I’d better be ready. What will we-’

Before she could finish someone asked brusquely, ‘Are you the holy man Ni?’

He hadn’t noticed the group of monks coming up, the ones who had joined at Turfan and who had until now kept to themselves.

‘I am.’

The man speaking was in traditional Buddhist garb but around his neck were many strings of beads and ornate hangings. His features were hard and ruthless.

He made an elaborate gesture of greeting. ‘I am Taw Vandak, lama of the oasis kingdoms. These are the venerable monks who accompany me on my journeys.’

Nicander gave a cautious bow. ‘This is Ma Lai Ssu, my brother in faith.’

Marius gave an ill-tempered grunt but was nevertheless awarded a careful greeting.

The lama paused to regard them, his eyes cold and appraising. ‘My brothers and I are confused. Caravan master Su tells us you are holy men from a far land. Pray do tell us something of your origins and… beliefs.’

Nicander realised this was no idle meeting but what was its purpose?

‘Thank you for your interest, Taw lao na. We are from a distant kingdom sent on a quest after truth. Our beliefs are very complex to explain.’

‘I see. We are confused because we expected you to join with us in our prayers to Avalokitesvara for the safety of this argosy and all within it.’

‘Ah. This is because we don’t include him in our pantheon.’

‘This is very strange as she is the paramount bodhisattva to the traveller. Which kingdom did you say you came from?’

‘Byzantium.’ He couldn’t think of Chinese words to express it and fell back on the Latin.

‘Bai Zan – I cannot think to have heard of this. Another thing that puzzles us is that it has been two days and we have yet to see you at any form of devotion. In your beliefs, then, is there no room for prayer to the higher?’

Where was this leading? Nicander thought quickly. ‘Oh, I can see what confuses you. Well, in our sacrament we think it sacrilegious to approach the higher except within the bounds of a consecrated place, a church. And as we have seen, there are no churches of our faith to be found here.’

Taw came back in a harder tone, ‘And still another thing. You were seen at profane entertainments of a wicked nature, not to be contemplated by any who does truly profess holiness and purity.’

Nicander could feel the hostility radiating from the man’s followers.

‘There is nothing in our way that-’

‘No? Then answer me this – you were seen entering the tent of this woman under cover of night. What does this mean, Ni?’

‘We were discussing the beauty of literature and she’s going to teach me writing.’

Taw spat on the ground and with a final venomous glare turned and stormed off.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Ying Mei said. ‘You have to understand that in China monks are exempt of taxes and therefore many claim to be holy men to take advantage of this. This makes it a harder burden for the taxpayers, who then end up hating all monks. And as holy men only exist by begging alms there is so much less for everyone.’

There was a jingling of camel bells ahead: the caravan was getting under way.

‘There’s trouble brewing with those monks,’ Nicander said in a low voice to Marius, ‘I feel it in my bones.’

The early morning light showed the continuing Tien Shan range on their right at its best, vaunting snow-tipped mountains cleft with dark shadows of night not yet banished; purple, blue and where touched by dawn, a delicate rose. By contrast on their left was the deadly Taklamakan, a grey-brown sea of dunes and desolation that could swallow whole armies with ease.

Nicander caught up with Ying Mei for the promised lesson.

‘This is so kind of you,’ she said with a warmth that left him glowing. ‘I do so look forward to our lessons. I’m hoping that today you’ll give me some real Greek characters to learn!’