An Inch of Ashes (25 page)

He fell silent. Even now it was not said. Even now he could take her in his arms and carry her up into the temple rooms and lay her on his cloak. Even now he could have that sweetness one last time.

But no. If this once then he would want her for ever. And that could not be. Not while there were Seven. Chung Kuo itself would have to fall before he could have Fei Yen.

He looked down, the pain of what he felt almost overwhelming him.

‘You want to end it? Is that it?’

Her voice was strangely soft, surprisingly sympathetic. He looked up and saw how she was looking at him, saw how his own hurt was reflected in her face. And even as he watched he saw the first tears begin to gather in the corners of her eyes and fall, slowly, ever so slowly, down the porcelain perfection of her cheek.

‘Fei Yen...’ he said, his voice a whisper. ‘You know I love you.’

‘And I you.’ She shuddered, then stepped back from him. ‘I had a dream. A dream that I was free to become your wife.’

He shivered, horrified by the words. ‘It cannot be.’

Her eyes were pleading with him now. ‘Why not? I was his brother’s wife. You know our laws.’

‘And yet you married him. The Seven put their seals to the special Edict. It was done. It cannot be undone.’

‘Why not? You willed the law changed once, now will it back.’

He shook his head. It was as he said; it could not be undone. Though all the seven T’ang agreed the match was ill-chosen, they would not change this thing. Not now. For one day Li Yuan would be T’ang, and to do this would be to wound him deeply. Only catastrophe could come of that. Only the end of everything they were.

He spoke clearly now, articulating each word separately. ‘I would we both were free, Fei Yen. I would give up all I have for that. But only ill – great ill – would come of it. And this, this
play
between us... it too must end. We must not meet like this again. Not ever.’

She winced at his finality.
‘Not
ever?’

The sweetness of the words, their pain and pleading, seemed to tear his soul from him, and yet he stood firm against her, knowing that to soften now would undo everything. ‘Not ever. Understand me, Li Yuan’s wife? From now on we are but... acquaintances, who meet at functions and the like. All other thoughts must now be put aside.’

‘Would you forget... ?’ she began, then fell silent, dropping her head, for he was glaring at her.

‘Enough! Would you have me die before you’ve done with me?’

‘Never...’ she answered, the word a mere breath, a whisper.

‘Then go. At once.’

She bowed, obedient, for a moment so like a wife to him that he caught his breath, pained, beyond all curing pained by the sight of her, broken, defeated by his own determination not to have her.

And then she was gone and he was alone again. He sat down heavily, feeling suddenly empty, hollowed of everything but grief, and wept.

Fei Yen jumped down and, without waiting for her groom to come and take the horse, made towards the palace. As she ran through the stable yards, grooms and servants bowed low then straightened up, watching her back, astonished. No one dared say a word, but their exchanged glances spoke eloquently. They had seen her ruined face and understood, for they, at least, knew what had been happening between the Princess and the handsome young T’ang.

And now, it seemed, it was over.

In the corridor Nan Ho made to greet her, but she ran past him as if he was not there. He turned, frowning, deciding not to pursue her but to go out to the stables and investigate the matter. It was his duty, after all, to serve his Prince. And how better than to understand and gauge the volatile moods of the woman closest to him?

Fei Yen herself went into her rooms and slammed the doors behind her, locking them, then threw herself down on to the bed, letting the enormity of what had happened wash over her at last, her tiny body shaken by great shuddering sobs.

For a while she slept, then woke an hour later, all of the anger and hurt washed from her. She stood and looked about her, studying the hangings, the rich furnishings of her room, frowning at their strangeness, finding no connection between herself and these things. It was as if she had died and come to life again, for she felt nothing. Only an overpowering numbness where feeling ought to be.

She turned, catching her own reflection in the glass on the far side of the room. She took a step towards it then stopped, looking down sharply.

Her news... She had never had a chance to tell him her news.

She stood there a moment, trembling, a single tear running down her cheek, then lifted her head defiantly, taking control of herself again, knowing what she must do.

She bathed, then summoned her maids and had them put her hair up and dress her in a simple
chi pao
, the silk a pale lavender trimmed with blue. Then, to perfect the look, she removed all of her bangles and her rings, bar his, wearing nothing about her neck. That done, she stood before the mirror, examining herself minutely.

Yes. That was the look she wanted. Not sumptuous and sophisticated but plain and almost earthy – like a peasant girl. She had kept even her make-up simple.

Smiling, she turned from the mirror and went out, into the corridor.

‘Master Nan!’ she called, glimpsing the Master of the Inner Chambers at the far end of the corridor.

Nan Ho turned, acknowledging her, then, giving a small bow to the man he had been talking to, hastened to her, stopping four paces from Fei Yen and bowing low, his eyes averted.

‘Master Nan, is my husband back yet?’

Nan Ho kept his head lowered. ‘He is, my lady. Twenty minutes past.’

‘Good.’ She turned, looking away from him. ‘Then go to him, Master Nan, and tell him his wife would welcome a few moments of his time.’

Nan Ho looked up, surprised, then looked down quickly. ‘Forgive me, my lady, but the Prince asked not to be disturbed. He has important work to finish.’

‘He is in his study, then?’

Nan Ho bowed his head slightly. ‘That is so, my lady. With his personal secretary, Chang Shih-Sen.’

‘Then you need worry yourself no longer, Nan Ho. I’ll go to him myself.’

‘But, my lady...’

‘You are dismissed, Nan Ho.’

He bowed very low. ‘As my lady wishes.’

She watched him go, then turned away, walking quickly towards her husband’s study.

In front of the door she hesitated, composing herself, then knocked.

There was a moment’s silence, then footsteps. A second later the door opened slightly and Secretary Chang looked out at her.

‘My lady...’ He bowed, then opened the door wider, stepping back, at the same time looking across at Li Yuan.

‘It is your wife, my lord, the Princess Fei.’

Li Yuan stood up behind his desk as Fei Yen entered, his face lighting at the sight of her.

‘Fei Yen... I thought you were out riding.’

‘I...’ She hesitated, then crossed the room until only the desk was between them. ‘The truth is, husband, I could not settle until I had seen you. Master Nan said you had returned...’

Li Yuan looked past her at his secretary. ‘Go now, Shih-sen. We’ll finish this later.’ Then, smiling, he came round the desk and embraced her, lifting her face to kiss her lips. ‘Your eagerness to see me warms me, my love. I’ve missed you too.’

She let her head rest against his chest a moment, then looked up at him again. ‘I’ve missed you, yes, but that isn’t why I’ve interrupted you...’

He laughed gently. ‘You need no reason to interrupt me. You are reason enough in yourself.’

She smiled and looked down. ‘Even so, it wasn’t only my eagerness to see you. I have some news.’

‘News?’ He moved her slightly back from him, taking her upper arms gently in his hands, studying her. Then he smiled again. ‘Well, let us go outside, into the garden. We’ll sit on the bench seat, side by side, like doves on a perch, and you can tell me your news.’

Returning his smile, she let herself be led out into the sunlit warmth of the garden. From somewhere near at hand a songbird called, then called again. They sat, facing each other on the sun-warmed bench.

‘You look beautiful, my love,’ he said, admiring her. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done, but it suits you.’ He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, caressing the bare, unadorned flesh of her neck. ‘But come, my love, what news is this you have?’

For a second or two her eyes searched his, as if for prior knowledge of what she was about to say; but he, poor boy, suspected nothing.

‘What would you say if I told you I had fallen?’

He laughed, then shook his head, puzzled. ‘Fallen?’

She smiled, then reached out, taking his hands in her own. ‘Yes, my wise and yet foolish husband.
Fallen
. The doctors confirmed it this very morning.’ She saw how his eyes widened with sudden comprehension and laughed, nodding her head. ‘Yes, my love. That’s right. We’re going to have a child.’

It was late afternoon and the Officers’ Club at Bremen was almost empty. A few men stood between the pillars on the far side of the vast, hexagonal lounge, talking idly, but only one of the tables was occupied.

A Han servant, his shaven head bowed, made his way across the huge expanse of green-blue carpet to the table, a heavily laden tray carried effortlessly in one hand. And as he moved between the men, scrupulously avoiding touching or even brushing against them as he set down their drinks, he affected not to hear their mocking laughter, or the substance of their talk.

One of them, a tall, moustachioed man named Scott, leaned forward, laughing, then stubbed out his cigar in one of the empty glasses.

‘It’s the talk of the Above,’ he said, leaning back and looking about him at his fellow officers. Then, more drily, ‘What’s more, they’re already placing bets on who’ll succeed the old bugger as Minister.’

Their laughter spilled out across the empty space, making the Han working behind the bar look up before they averted their eyes again.

They were talking of Minister Chuang’s marriage earlier that day. The old man had cast off his first wife and taken a new one – a young girl of only fourteen. It was this last that Scott had been rather salaciously referring to.

‘Well, good luck to the man, I say,’ another of them, Panshin, said, raising his glass in a toast. Again there was laughter. Only when it had died down did Hans Ebert sit forward slightly and begin to talk. He had been quieter than usual, preferring for once to sit and listen rather than be the focus of their talk, but now all eyes looked to him.

‘It’s a sad story,’ he began, looking down. ‘And if I’d had an inkling of how it would turn out I would never have got involved.’

There was a murmur of sympathy at that – an exchange of glances and a nodding of heads.

‘Yes, well... there’s a lesson to us all, neh?’ he continued, looking about him, meeting their eyes candidly. ‘The woman was clearly deranged long before I came across her.’

For once there was no attempt to derive a second meaning from his words. All there realized the significance of what had happened. An affair was one thing, but this was different. Events had got out of hand and the woman had overstepped the mark when she had attacked Ebert.

‘No,’ Ebert went on. ‘It saddens me to say so, but I do believe Madam Chuang would have ended in the sanatorium whether I’d crossed her path or not. As for her husband, I’m sure he’s much better off with his
tian-fang
,’ he smiled, looking at Scott, ‘even if the girl kills him from sheer pleasure.’

There were smiles at that but no laughter. Even so, their mood was suddenly lighter. The matter had been there, unstated, behind all their earlier talk, dampening their spirits. But now it was said and all felt easier for it.

‘No one blames you, Hans,’ Panshin said, leaning forward to touch his arm. ‘As you say, it would have happened anyway. It was just bad luck that you got involved.’

‘That’s so,’ Ebert said, lifting his shot-glass to his lips and downing its contents in one sharp, savage gulp. ‘And there are consolations. The
mui tsai
for one.’

Fest leaned forward, leering, his speech slurred. ‘Does that mean you’ve cooled towards the other one, Hans?’ He laughed suggestively. ‘You know. The young chink whore... Golden Heart.’

Fest was not known for his discretion at the best of times, but this once his words had clearly offended Ebert. He sat there, glaring at Fest. ‘That’s my business,’ he said coldly. ‘Don’t you agree?’

Fest’s smile faded. He sat back, shaking his head, suddenly more sober. ‘Forgive me, Hans, I didn’t mean...’ He fell silent, bowing his head.

Ebert stared at Fest a moment longer, then looked about him, smiling. ‘Excuse my friend,
ch’un tzu
. I think he’s had enough.’ He looked back at Fest. ‘I think you’d best go home, Fest. Auden here will take you if you want.’

Fest swallowed, then shook his head. ‘No. I’ll be all right. It’s not far.’ He sought Ebert’s eyes again. ‘Really, Hans, I didn’t mean anything by it.’

Ebert smiled tightly. ‘It’s all right. I understand. You drank too much, that’s all.’

‘Yes...’ Fest set his glass down and got unsteadily to his feet. He moved out from his seat almost exaggeratedly, then turned, bowing to each of them in turn. ‘Friends...’

When he was gone, Ebert looked about him, lowering his voice slightly. ‘Forgive me for being so sharp with him, but sometimes he forgets his place. It’s a question of breeding, I suppose. His father climbed the levels, and sometimes his manners...’ He spread his arms. ‘Well, you know how it is.’

‘We understand,’ Panshin said, touching his arm again. ‘But duty calls me too, I’m afraid, much as I’d like to sit here all afternoon. Perhaps you’d care to call on me some time, Hans? For dinner?’

Ebert smiled broadly. ‘I’d like that, Anton. Arrange something with my equerry. I’m busy this week, but next?’

Slowly it broke up, the other officers going their own ways, until only Auden was there with him at the table.

‘Well?’ Auden asked, after a moment, noticing how deep in thought Ebert was.

Ebert looked up, chewing on a nail.