THE SILK TREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The Yellow River was broad and slow-moving, its muddy waters sliding along as they had done for untold centuries through the featureless flat plain.

Settled under an awning on the timber cargo of the big lighter, Nicander watched the passing spectacle while Marius snoozed.

He looked aft. The amiable old man in a curious conical bamboo hat at the steering oar, who was owner and captain of the craft, gave a toothless smile. His whole family was on board in a tiny house-like structure perched right on the stern.

From above came the comfortable creaks of the single lofty rectangular sail, heavily slatted and needing little handling, driving them on at a steady pace.

Forward, Ying Mei and Tai Yi were keeping out of sight in the privacy of their own spacious temporary quarters atop the long timbers. He shifted in annoyance. There had been no thawing in the Ice Queen and in fact it felt as if she was going out of her way to antagonise them with her airs.

Damn her Chinese ways!

He had reluctantly accepted that there was a distance to be kept between a high-born and commoner but this was ridiculous – having to communicate only through her doughty and ever-vigilant lady-in-waiting, the averted eyes, the cold hauteur. The boatman and his wife were always fawning and bowing, overawed by her presence. Even Marius was uneasily polite and deferential in front of her.

Nicander had tried to get Ying Mei to utter words directly but never once succeeded. He’d come up with strategems, from saying there was a unicorn behind her, to pretending she was not there and passing sly comments to Marius on her appearance. None had broken the silence.

There was no future in a confrontation. No doubt he and Marius could seize the chest, but to what purpose? Her uncle was crucial to their deliverance and that needed her presence. The Ice Queen had the upper hand.

They left the broad expanse of the Yellow River for a tributary and with distant mountains always to the left, sailed on westward.

Nicander idly wandered back to the boatman, who grinned in pleasure at the break in the tedium.

‘Ho!’ he cackled, pointing to the horizon off to the right where a long, low dun-coloured smoke haze betrayed the presence of a great city. ‘Chang An!’

Although it was hard going, as the accent in this part of China was flat and guttural, Nicander pressed the old man for information about their destination.

It was a very old city, perhaps the oldest. It had been the capital of the first emperor of China and counted on gnarled fingers by centuries, it was apparently two thousand years older than the Rome of Augustus – clearly impossible, of course.

Its size was equally fantastic – from excited sweeps of the arms it would need to be measured in handfuls of miles, but he’d not wanted to show sceptic and let the old man babble on about the sights and the pleasures in the venerable city.

Marius was not impressed. There was only one thing he was interested in and that was getting back to Roman civilisation and a decent feed.

The waterway was now busy; barges and lighters like their own, slim fishing craft and fat brick transports, pleasure skiffs and sampans – all the usual bustle at the approaches to a great metropolis.

Outer settlements began to appear along the bank, here and there pagodas on the skyline.

The Lady Kuo Ying Mei stepped out of her quarters. She had long restored her appearance, the slim silk gown with its elegant embroidery setting off her elaborate hairstyle, her ceruse-daubed face restored to its impassive rigidity. She looked about with cool detachment.

The captain hurried up, enquiring of her lady-in-waiting if there was anything she desired. It seemed not and the man was dismissed.

The sprawl of settlement became continuous. They dropped sail and were pulled down a long canal against the wind by hundreds of whipcord-thin men.

What they had seen before was the overflow of buildings outside the city. Inside a rectangle of great, towering walls twenty feet high and pierced only once each side with a single set of three gateways, Chang An proper was indeed immense in size.

Peoples of all kinds in every sort of dress were coming and going, quite ignoring the arrival of yet another boat from the outside world.

Tai Yi was soon engaged in spirited bargaining for the hire of their transport.

The merchants’ quarter was well known and they set off, My Lady in a curtained sedan chair, Tai Yi sitting next to the driver of a cart, the foreign devils on the tailgate.

Passing through one of the city gateways they came on an impressive sight – arrow-straight, immensely broad treelined avenues that disappeared into the distance in a regular grid. Minor boulevards and streets led off them and there were canals with pretty arched bridges and every so often a noble pagoda or vermilion eaved mansion showed above the roofs.

They swung off the main avenue and proceeded along a street with high, blank walls on either side. They turned again, into a residential district. Then, past the hubbub and commotion of a bazaar, they came to street stalls selling fish, pastries and flowers.

Through more urban bustle they crossed another broad avenue and continued along by a residential ward, spacious and well guarded.

Abruptly, they stopped by a dignified entrance. Painted on each panel of the heavy wooden gate were demons. Above, a large red triangular flag trimmed in yellow with huge Chinese characters in black flapped lazily.

Nicander dropped to the ground. ‘Looks like we’re here.’

Tai Yi spoke with a guard who went away, returning quickly to open the gates.

Waiting inside was a group of people, in the centre a small figure in a flowing blue robe, his face so creased with pleasure his eyes almost disappeared.

Ying Mei went up to him and bowed.

Words passed between them; she turned and beckoned the others forward. ‘Dear Uncle, you know my lady companion, Lai Tai Yi, who has served me steadfastly since I was a child. Those two are foreign holy men, Ni and Ma, who are accompanying me in my visit.’

Kuo looked at them in keen interest. ‘From where do they hail, Ying Mei?’

‘A long story, Uncle. It were best left to later.’

‘But of course – I forget my manners! Do enter, my child, take some refreshment while you tell me why you are here. You are most welcome, most welcome!’

They were led along paths lined with peonies and trees, through several courtyards, and then past a series of modest buildings of a charming style to a formal hall.

It was delicately appointed in the same spare, elegant taste as his brother.

They sat by a low table, Ying Mei close to her uncle. A set of tiny porcelain dishes was brought and a larger container used to decant a fragrant steaming liquor.

Kuo told Nicander, ‘You may not yet have tried jasmine cha.’

Nicander lifted the dish and caught a subtle aroma – there were tiny leaf fragments and a dried white blossom floating in the tea. It was delicious.

‘Now, my dear, tell me. How is your father?’

Ying Mei replied without emotion, ‘Uncle, this is why I’ve come. I beg that before you hear me, you desire all of your household to leave save yourself.’

In the same controlled tone she laid out what Kao Yang’s usurping of the Dragon Throne had cost her family.

It was the first time Nicander had heard the full story, and despite himself, his heart went out to her.

To stand helpless while her father was mutilated, to hear that her mother had hanged herself in shame soon after, and that all the time she had been living with the constant fear of being taken up as a concubine by the tyrant was deeply shocking.

She had held her dignity for her father’s sake and, like him, had done her duty as she saw it. With the Emperor’s cruel putting to death of his own son they had felt released of the bonds of loyalty.

Kuo’s face went pale and when she passed him a letter from her father his hand trembled.

He read, twice, then turned aside.

She waited quietly, her face an impenetrable mask.

Recovering himself, Kuo addressed her gently. ‘Your father is a great philosopher, a worthy disciple of the sages and a loving and dutiful father. And I will not refuse him. But in this he is asking for more than he can possibly realise. The obstacles to be faced are very severe. On the other hand you have little choice: your fleeing the Emperor’s court has earned his rage and vengeance – you will be hunted for the rest of your days. Or his.’

He went to the door and looked out, then resumed his place. ‘So – you seek to leave China for exile in the Western Lands. Are you still resolved on this?’

‘I am.’

‘Not Japan or Korea, as others have done?’

‘My father despises their debasing of our civilisation, and as well, fears that the Emperor’s agents have influence even there.’

‘So he wishes you to be entirely out of the reach of the Emperor.’

‘Yes, Uncle.’

‘Therefore beyond the influence of our civilised ways, into the land of the barbarians. This is hard indeed, my child.’

‘Our history has many instances of a princess journeying beyond civilisation in obedience to her father. How am I to be so different?’

‘Very well. I bow to your wishes, my dear. Now, you gentlemen…?’

Nicander answered. ‘We have sworn to your brother that we will stand by his daughter until she has reached her sanctuary.’

‘That is most noble in you, sir. May I enquire where you come from?’

Wary, he knew the question would not have been asked if Kuo had mentioned it in the letter.

‘Sir, from a small kingdom far away, it is of no consequence for we came by sea. We are seekers after truth and have travelled far in our wandering.’

‘I honour you for it. Yet the obstacles remain a threat to you all. I shall be frank. I am a merchant in silk and it is in my interest to know of far places to learn of the market there, prices, demand. Yet my knowledge extends only to the oasis towns in the great desert before the mountains. Past these, no one knows what is there.

‘We merchants consign our stock and sell to the highest price as advised to us by our agents in those places, the most distant of which is in a place called Aksu, still far from the mountains. That is to say, this is as far as my knowledge and influence extends. I cannot help you any further. After Aksu… you are on your own.’

‘How will we go on from there?’

‘You will join a caravan leaving here for those regions. They are large, some several hundred camels is the usual number. These go to an agreed destination, like Dunhuang, Khotan and such, so the merchant may plan to send his freight there. On arrival there may be an entirely different caravan going on – the silk is transferred and the original caravan returns. The furthest I personally have sent a freight is Kucha. The merchants in the various cities know the market prices and conditions further on the route, having their own agents out there. They can advise of caravans going on and make arrangements for you.’

‘So we travel by camel caravan.’

‘Yes. Do understand that the purpose of these caravans is the moving of freight – you are only a variety of goods requiring special handling.’

‘Then people regularly travel?’

‘On the nearer routes, often. Officers relieving outer garrisons, imperial messengers, merchants consulting agents, but the further parts very rarely. In fact, I can tell you that I know of not a one who has gone beyond the last oasis towns, as you must. There have been famous travellers who have gone into the mountains, devout monks wishing to reach India to acquire the original writings of the Buddha, but only very few, and none whatsoever any further.’

‘Sir, are you not curious what lies at such a distance?’ Nicander asked respectfully.

‘We Chinese have little interest in barbarian peoples. To journey into the direction of the setting sun can only end in regions of darkness at the edge of the world. Whatever is the nature of the tribes there makes no difference to the price they seem willing to pay for our silk.’

He gave a wry smile. ‘But of course, I’m forgetting the Sogdians.’

‘I know little of them, sir.’

‘These are peoples who make a profession of running the caravans. You will find them in every town, every stage. Your caravan master you can be sure will be a Sogdian, and they speak among themselves the intelligence to make a crossing, but never to we. The secrets of the way are theirs and they are jealous to keep them so. It is possible they do know what is beyond the mountains but we will never learn of it.’

‘Then, sir, it is clear: we join another caravan at Aksu for our onward journey.’

Kuo’s face set. ‘Before you go further, I find it my duty to express something of the horrors – yes, I use that term – of the journey. As you move away from here, you will enter a region of madness. You will reach the edge of a desert that is an empty wilderness that stretches for eternity. You will then leave the world of mankind entirely and enter upon a place where you have nothing save what is carried on you, no friend but who is on the camel ahead, no stranger will you meet but the fiends and demons of the desert.

‘The heat of the day is all but unendurable, at night the cold can petrify a man. Sandstorms arise that mount to the heavens in blackness and grief to fall upon the hapless traveller and force him to his knees to scour him mercilessly before burying him.

‘And all the time there is no living thing save the caravan, which moves at the pace of a walk, yet it has to exist on its own resources until it finds the next oasis. If it does not, or misses this place, the next caravan will find its bones.

‘If you think this a small risk, know that not three years ago a Turfan caravan of over a thousand camels was overdue at the Yi Wu oasis. It had vanished into the emptiness and no one knows why, it was never found nor a soul survived to tell of it. And I have to tell you this is not uncommon. I beg you, reflect on what you are contemplating. This I beseech you!’

‘We go on,’ Ying Mei said. ‘It is my father’s wish.’

Kuo hesitated, then spoke. ‘Very well. I shall begin preparation. As your father would remind you, Confucius confides, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step” and so it is in our case.’

‘We are in your hands, Uncle.’

‘Then, to the first consideration. To leave China is a serious matter – there are the customs, of course, and you will be searched for contraband, but above all your passes will be demanded.’

‘Passes?’

‘Signed by the military commander that you are no threat, are not spies, are known to the authorities as loyal subjects of the Empire and, most importantly, have good reason to leave. These will be sighted by the caravan master before he lets you join. I need to arrange these for you with General Wu. For that, I will have to find a story that satisfies.’

He pondered. ‘Here we have a well-born lady summoned by her father to attend on his final sickness in, say, Aksu. She is accompanied by a lady attendant, naturally. That is the easier. She is under the protection of two holy men – that is the harder. These two are clearly foreigners and therefore suspect. However, she can vouch for them and carries a letter under the seal of a well-known abbot of a monastery here in Chang An.

‘I think it best if these holy men carried some token of their truth-seeking, an earnest of their studies while here in China, something to take back with them to their native kingdom. By way of holy scriptures, as it were. I’m thinking of the Great Learning and Mencius, perhaps?’

He looked pointedly at Ying Mei.

She bit her lip then said in flat tones, ‘The Doctrine of the Mean, Uncle. The Classic of Changes and of course the Analects have meaning comprehensible even to the barbarous.’

‘Splendid! I think we have our story! Oh, your family name must change of course, my dear. That of my agent in Aksu is P’eng, you shall borrow it for now. And these faithful gentlemen have a Chinese name but this, of course, is unknown to the authorities and may safely remain.’

He stood. ‘Time presses. If they seek you ardently, we may soon expect imperial agents in Chang An. This very afternoon I will make enquiries, but meanwhile you shall be my welcome guests.’