THE SILK TREE

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

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!’

‘Characters? Well, it’s not quite like that…’

She was alert and intelligent but there was so much that was different in concept between the languages. The appearance of words in Greek were never the same from one sentence to another as Chinese characters always were – they altered with whether things had happened in the past or present, were single or many, even the sex of the thing talked about. Instead of a holistic meaning from the character cluster as a whole, Greek had to be analysed word by word and presented in a logical structure as a sentence.

It was a long and difficult exercise but as the days rolled on she proved herself equal to it.

For his part, Nicander began instruction in writing. He learnt that any character could be made with just eight strokes of the brush and that all these could be exercised in one: the character for ‘eternity’. Then there was the comforting discovery that every character could be found in the dictionary by recognising its pu shou or central essence, and these were limited to just a few hundred to learn.

But after that came the realisation that writing was more than a mechanical means for rendering meaning as it was in Greek. Instead the Chinese revered it as a form of art – calligraphy, and a gentleman could be judged by his mastery and skill of it. Strength, personality, individuality – all could be deduced from the execution of a single stroke.

The writing brush had to be held just so, perfectly vertical and all the concentration and power of thought directed down into one bold action, one culmination of intent to produce a thing of beauty – or childish squiggle.

Nicander was entranced: this was much more than elementary literacy – it was a way of life that seamlessly intersected with what Dao Pa had been saying about the Tao and he felt his mind yearning for more.

The days passed while the caravan slowly made its way westward. Through the Iron Gate Pass to Korla, then along the flank of the mountains to Kucha, the sand-girt walled oasis standing like a rampart against the encroaching sea of sand.

Guarded by a pair of stone Buddhas more than a hundred feet high it was a prime stopping place for the caravans, as well as a trading post for the pack animals coming through the passes from the Turkic peoples beyond.

The bazaars were a place of magic and allure. Nicander and Ying Mei explored them together and she found him the latest Yu p’ien dictionary. Later, they visited the gardens of the old city and tasted peaches and almonds. The caravan did not stop for long; soon it was stretching out over the desert and the rhythms of the trail took over once more.

Under the watchful eye of Tai Yi they continued their lessons as they walked on, Nicander spelling a Greek word in the sand with his staff and Ying Mei having to speak it in a sentence before it disappeared behind them. In turn she would form a character and he would have to do the same. It lent itself to all kinds of frivolity and they laughed together in delight.

At night she guided him while he painfully found his way about the vocabulary and applauded loudly when he managed his first lines of Hsun Tzu.

It was a breakthrough: soon he would know the masters at first hand.