THE SILK TREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

They were roused before dawn and after a solid meal the caravan headed out. The same steady swing and plod, the snaking line ahead a ribbon of colour in the dun-grey and soft green of the fields, the distant smudge of the mountains always there.

In a way it was soothing, the regular pace and sounds of leather against hide, the soft tinkle of bits and bridle on his mount blending with the same up and down the line. Nicander found himself surrendering to the rhythms of the journey.

As the sun grew hot, pomegranates were issued, a surprisingly effective remedy against thirst but he was glad when they left the road to stop at a well-trodden riverbank to freshen the animals. The water gourd which had seemed so big when he’d bought it in Chang An now appeared such a puny thing to set against the dusty road and he drank sparingly.

He saw Su chatting amiably with a merchant and waited his chance for a word.

‘Last night I was talking to one of the cameleers. He told me something of your work and I have to admit to having no idea of what a stiff job you do. You have my respect, Su sheng.’

The weather-ravaged features eased slightly. ‘So what is it you’re wanting from me, Ni sheng? Something special for your fine lady?’

‘Not at all. I was just wondering… what will we see ahead?’

‘A few more weeks on this road takes us across the river and then to the edge of the desert. We can’t take that on, so we turn left and stick close to the mountains – the Kunlun we calls ’em – until we get all around to Khotan. Simple, really.’

‘I’m going to Aksu, Su sheng.’

‘Well, I can’t help you there. This caravan’s for Khotan and that’s where I stops. You’ll be continuing on around the desert rim with another. Ask him.’

‘I’ve heard the desert is a wicked place.’

‘It is,’ Su said seriously. ‘The worst in the world. We’ll be moving fast, though. Should be through to Khotan in a few months at the outside.’

‘What if there’s-’

‘You leave all the worrying to me, holy man. We’re on track and staying there. I’m a Sogdian, I take care to keep in with my friends and they’ll let me know if there’s trouble ahead.’

‘Will it always be like this? Apart from the desert, that is.’

‘Ha! You’ll be seeing sights you can’t imagine, feeling cold and heat like the poor bastards in hell but we’ll pull through. Never lost a caravan yet – if I did I wouldn’t be here, would I?’

‘The next…’

‘Crossing the Yellow River at Lan Chou. A bit of a spectacle there. Then naught much until we reaches the Great Desert and that’ll open your eyes. Dunhuang, the monks’ll go crazy and it’s a sight if you likes that kind of thing. Then a bit empty, like, until we reach…’

So, months on the trail, just to reach the other side of this vast desert.

That night it was much the same. A caravanserai effortlessly catering to their numbers, another tiny cell, and away at dawn.

The ground was hilly, light forest crowning the slopes. They passed over the summit through a well-travelled cleft that exposed the fine-dust soil the Chinese called ‘yellow earth’ but on the other side the winds from the right increased, driving invisible particles of dust and sand to sting and irritate exposed skin. It stayed with them all day but mercifully eased towards the afternoon.

Nicander peered into the distance. Was it his imagination or were the mountains closer?

Marius had been riding alongside where he could. They talked occasionally, but mainly continued in companionable silence.

Unexpectedly, with a full hour or more of daylight left, the leaders turned off the road into a sparsely grassed field and rotated to direct the caravan into a giant circle.

‘Dismount!’

Nicander gave Marius a wary glance. This night they would spend without the convenience and comfort of a caravanserai.

A fire was started, flaring and quickly growing bigger. To one side the camels were pegged out in several lines, the horses beyond. On the opposite side of the fire all unloaded freight was stacked together and guards posted.

If they wanted a tent, apparently it would be extra. Feeling the night air coming on Nicander had his views but Marius chuckled, ‘We pocket the hire and kip out under the stars!’

While the daylight lasted the tents were erected and owners’ packs transferred to them. Of strong goat-hide reinforced felt, they had a full eight guy lines each side as if at any time expecting a gale of wind. Peeking inside one Nicander saw that it was remarkably snug, with sewn-in hooks for belongings and a substantial ground covering.

As the chill of the evening drew in, people moved to the fire, taking bedrolls or other articles to sit on and it quickly became the centre of activity. Not far away there was a kitchen with its own fire contained in iron fittings already sizzling with activity – three vast pans, each a yard across, conjuring a hearty meal of vegetables, rice and chicken.

When the Ice Queen did not appear from her tent Nicander gleefully realised he could take his choice of companions at dinner.

The monks were together, chatting solemnly, he’d let them be. A cloaked merchant sat with his wife holding court to several around him and another group had settled around a portly man in finer dress than the others. On impulse Nicander went over to a young man sitting at the edge. Marius followed.

‘May I sit here? I’m Ni K’an Ta of Ta Hsin, this is Ma Lai Ssu.’

‘Wu Kuo Chin. Ta Hsin – I haven’t heard…?’

‘A far kingdom. We’re holy men on a journey to seek after truth.’

‘I’m an officer of the Imperial Bannermen.’

Nicander froze. A soldier of the Emperor sent to root them out?

‘Ah. How strange – may we know why it is you’re in this caravan?’

‘It’s the usual way for officers to travel out to join their garrison at the border.’

‘I see,’ said Nicander in relief. ‘Forgive me, this is my first visit to your land.’

‘Do you know much of our past, Ni lao na?’

‘Not as much as I’d wish to.’

‘Well, understand that from the time of the Han dynasty we have held the lands to the west for the Empire, including the Great Desert at its heart. Now, since we’ve suffered unrest and… and uncertainty on the Celestial Throne, we have lost them. Only our watchtowers and garrisons at the edge of the desert stand between us and the barbarians.’

‘A challenging post, Wu hsien sheng.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Not as fearful as for an official who must enter in upon these lands to regulate our lawful tribute of the lesser kingdoms!’ the well-dressed fat man called across.

‘Tribute?’ the merchant sitting with his wife scoffed. ‘This is trade’s increase only! We’re the one’s with all the risks – and no one at our backs to come rescue if things get hard for us.’

‘You’ve a venture on this caravan?’ Nicander asked.

‘I have – silk and porcelain out, carpets and glassware by return.’ He was strong-faced, bearded and wearing a curious tall hat, some outlander that Nicander hadn’t yet learnt to recognise.

‘You’d be looking to a respectable return, then, the overheads and fees being what they are,’ Nicander said without thinking.

Talk stopped and faces turned to look at him suspiciously.

‘So you know these things?’ the man said slowly.

‘Oh, my father – he’s in the incense trade. Many times have I heard him complain about them.’

‘I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Ni K’an Ta. And yours?’

‘Korkut the Rouran. Then what are you about – that is, when you’re not being holy?’

‘We seek truth wherever it may be in this world.’

‘That’s what spies do.’

‘We’re as well accompanying the Lady P’eng to Aksu.’

‘Ah. The noble lady. It’s not often we see ones of her quality on a freight run. Can you tell us for what reason she’s journeying?’

‘She’s been summoned by her father in Aksu who is in his final sickness.’

‘How sad.’ He paused, ‘But that’s funny – I know Aksu and there’s no P’eng at that level in the place.’

‘She was sent to live with her rich uncle in Chang An,’ Nicander said quickly. ‘Her father is not of that sort.’

‘Then why does she not travel in some style?’

‘I think she grieves for him and does not wish display.’

‘Hm. Once we’ve cleared Lan Chou the going’s rough for anyone, let alone a high-born. You’d think she’d be advised to take camels and attendants by the dozen. Odd.’

Korkut’s wife was in no doubt, however. ‘Can’t you see? You men are the last to catch on, as always.’

‘What do you mean, Zarina, dear?’

‘It’s obvious. She’s a princess being sent to marry a foreign king. They don’t want to risk that she’s captured in an official legation caravan so they send her in disguise. I’ve seen her face – she’s stricken to leave China for ever, poor lamb.’

She turned to Nicander with a big smile. ‘That’s so, isn’t it? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us – isn’t it, friends?’

The others murmured an agreement.

Lost for words Nicander could only stare back dumbly.

Then their meal arrived. Each was given a bowl and iron spoon, and the food was ladled out. There were appreciative murmurs as they tucked in.

After finishing off with melon, they sat contentedly watching the fire.

A night under the stars was not as bad as Nicander had feared. Marius had taken their padded capes and shown him how only the hips required softer ground for comfort, the head in its warm hood needing to be raised only as much as by a rolled-up day cloak.

It was almost sensual, the feel of the chill night breeze on his face, while the rest of him was snuggled into the strong-smelling oiled felt. He heard the soughing of wind and every snick and scurry of night sounds as though part of it, yet he was tucked up in his warm cocoon.

The next day it rained: a spiteful, blustery downpour that started up soon after they were on the road, and which tested their cloaks and bad-weather gear to the limit.

Cold and dispirited, they journeyed on, the road slippery with running yellow mud, horses snorting with their stumbling efforts.

The rain petered out in the afternoon but the mud persisted. Fortunately that night they arrived at a caravanserai – a roof over their heads, piping hot cabbage soup and an early night.

Under grey skies the next morning they resumed their journey, assured that they would not be troubled by rain once they reached Lan Chou, and in fact the sun did show itself towards the afternoon.

Each day saw them a little further on, the sounds of the caravan now familiar and comforting. Occasionally there were snatches of song, a plaintive flute or a flat nasal instrument that Nicander couldn’t place.

His horse walked on meekly, an occasional shake of its head and muffled whinny its only protest. Behind, their camel dutifully plodded in their wake.

One morning some weeks later, Marius spotted new mountains ahead, others to the left and then, unexpectedly, a wide river.

Swirling yellow-brown with silt, it was fast-moving – the Yellow River once more. Further along was the substantial town of Lan Chou.

The settlement had high, well-defended walls and was a frontier between the fertile plains they had been crossing and the route out into the borderlands. On the way to the caravanserai there were strange peoples with weather-darkened faces, market smells that were pungent but unknown and everywhere a restlessness, a feeling of transience.

They did not stay long. Su got them on the road as soon as he could, swearing that he would lose half his crew if they were any longer in such a town.

Not far upstream they arrived at a crossing point, under vertically fluted crags between two opposite flat areas. There were dozens of rafts manned by scores of small, muscle-hard peasants who jockeyed noisily for position, some joining several craft together to form larger rafts.

The rafts were supported by inflated sheepskins and had to be energetically paddled across against the swift-moving current.

The operation took some time; camels imperturbably standing until their turn came, precious cargoes given particular care and passengers marshalled in apprehensive groups.

Halfway across the river Nicander was fascinated to see figures in the cliff opposite – colossal carved statues ninety feet high. He hoped the Buddhas would look kindly upon their journey…

Their crossing complete, the mountains closed in: to the right a range of undistinguished crags with bands of red-brown, to the left a mighty rearing that had the far-off glitter of white snowcaps.

Slowly but steadily the camel train began an ascent on a stony track through the first pass. They were following a caravan route as ancient as time, out of China and into the trackless deserts and fearful wastes of the interior.