Julian Stockwin - THE SILK TREE

They plodded on through another day, the hot wind got up again and scoured their exposed skin but they dared not stop.

That night Nicander suffered from painful cramps and headache, finally slipping into a fitful sleep in the biting cold.

In the morning and with their gourds barely half-full they got under way.

When the sun rose high, Nicander’s cramps returned. In pain, he reeled about. On the other side of Ordut, Arif, head bowed in endurance, didn’t see him and the little caravan carried on without him.

He dropped to his knees, his hands tight on his stomach as the spasms racked him. He closed his eyes in pain.

There were faint shouts and he opened his eyes to see Marius trudging back towards him.

Nicander struggled to his feet but without a pause Marius knocked him down.

‘I said no one falls out of the line o’ march!’ he rasped. ‘Get back in the ranks!’

Nicander caught up, ashamed that he had let Marius down.

‘I can’t trust you lot out o’ my sight!’ the legionary croaked. ‘I’m following behind, and God help any as drops out!’

They pressed on, ever to the south, this time without the comforting sight of Marius in front.

With a tongue swollen to twice its size and cruel aches in every joint it took Nicander heroic resolve to keep moving. He knew it was the same for the others.

Every step was an effort. His head hung and he saw one foot go out then the other in hypnotic succession.

A strange whimper made him look up. Ying Mei was gesturing behind them.

A dark huddle lay still on the sand thirty yards away. Marius.

It couldn’t be! Of all of them…

Nicander somehow summoned strength to hurry to his friend who lay face down in the baking dunes. The others followed.

‘Marius!’ he whispered hoarsely, turning over his body. He was breathing but unconscious.

‘Get his gourd and give him water!’ Ying Mei pleaded.

Nicander lifted it up and found it empty of even a drop. It didn’t make sense… then it hit him like a blow. Marius had made great play at the water skin but had not filled his own gourd, letting others have his share.

His eyes stung – Marius had not had anything to drink the night before.

Logic demanded that they leave him and go on, playing out the drama until its end.

‘Ah Yung. You are the leader now,’ Ying Mei said unsteadily. ‘What do we do?’

‘We stop here for the night,’ he croaked. It would buy time to think.

‘Try to get him to take some water,’ he muttered, handing over his own gourd.

As he had seen Marius do so many times, he went to the highest point and looked out over the endless dunes, now shadowing as the sun fell. Ahead – south – the curving crest they had been following was splitting into two going in alternate directions. It meant that there were three valleys now – one ahead and one on either side.

Marius did not regain consciousness, lying still, barely breathing. Ying Mei fanned him but there was nothing to be done.

Nicander sat upright against Meng Hsiang’s hairy bulk staring into the night. This was the end, there would be no more hopeless striving. One by one they would drop in their tracks. Then their bones would be left until they too would be covered by the restless sand.

He felt a great sadness that it all had to end like this.

His head drooped as weariness claimed him but something made him look up – and as if in a dream he saw a figure, a robe covering its face.

Shaking his head to try to clear it he saw the vision remained. The robe was thrown back and Dao Pa stood before him!

Nicander hadn’t the strength to do more than wonder what he wanted but the image grew stronger and more real.

‘Why are you here?’ he managed to say.

Dao Pa made a solemn sign of blessing.

‘We’re in our last travails, Master. What can we do?’

The sage mouthed something.

‘I can’t hear you.’ Nicander said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it hurt to speak louder.

Dao Pa shook his head sorrowfully and spread his hands.

In a sudden spasm of hope Nicander pleaded, ‘Where must we go – ahead, to the left or right…? As a last chance!’

The figure extended a hand – and pointed firmly to the right. Then he made the gesture of drinking.

The river!

‘Thank you, thank you, Master! For the others, I thank you!’

With a last farewell, Dao Pa turned and vanished into the blackness.

Marius still lived but would not last the morning without shade and rest. Nicander knew the cruelty of flogging on the two women was beyond him. Therefore there was only one course. ‘I want everyone to stay here today,’ he croaked. ‘I’m taking Meng Hsiang to look for water. If I’m not back by tomorrow then Arif’s in charge.’

He felt lightheaded and strangely calm as the camel stepped off. Was the vision of Dao Pa real or was it a dream? One way or another their problems would all be over before the end of the day.

He followed the crest for about a mile to where it divided. Confidently he kneed the camel to the right. Soon he could look down into the valley and there he would see the flat of the river bed and the unbearable glitter of moving water.

Meng Hsiang plodded forward patiently and they drew nearer – and then the whole valley opened up before him.

He searched eagerly – there was no sparkling water. No flat river bed. Only another drab bottomland.

Disappointment slammed in, followed by a dull and bitter resignation. Even Dao Pa had let him down. Did he turn back now or try another direction? He couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

Then something caught his eye: deep down and near the bottom. A series of dots.

They moved.

With a desperate intensity he stared down and made out a string of camels in a line, travelling slowly along.

He tried to yell with all his strength but it came out only as a harsh croak.

‘Go!’ he urged Meng Hsiang in an agony of hope. The animal reluctantly began to step and slide down the steep slope towards the camel train. They saw him and stopped.

‘Faster!’ he gasped but his camel had its own speed. They drew nearer and he could make out several men dressed in outlandish coloured tunics and turban-like headdresses, gaping at his approach.

Nearer still and his vision blurred with emotion. Then he was up with them nearly crying with relief. ‘Who are you? We need help, desperately, please!’

They looked at each other and shrugged, babbling something that had no meaning to him. ‘Please! Water – water! Please understand – we’re looking for Khotan and-’

‘Ai, ai! Khotan!’ they said, vigorously pointing back to where they’d come from.

Near delirious, Nicander tried to get off but slipped and tumbled. One of the men slid to the ground and hurried over. Nicander pointed to his mouth. ‘Water! Please – water!’

The man untied a small skin pouch and placed it to his lips.

Nicander drank then he fell back, wanting to weep with the emotion of it all but unable to.

The man looked down at him and with the utmost tenderness tried to ask him something.

‘There! Up there!’ Nicander managed, indicating over the crest. ‘More of us!’ He held up four fingers and gestured again.

‘Ha!’ The man snapped a rapid-fire command. A water skin was flung over one camel, another mounted. Twitched into motion, the animals angled up the dune.

Nicander slumped back – and the world dissolved to nothing.

‘Be buggered to you!’ Marius protested. ‘I’m not staying in this bed rotting for ever – we have to get going.’ He threw aside the threadbare cover.