Daylight on Iron Mountain (49 page)

‘You think that will stop them coming?’

‘No. There will still be those who revere him. To whom he was a great man.’

‘He
was
a great man.’

Li Chao Ch’in glanced at him, then shrugged. ‘Anyway… are you ready?’

Shepherd nodded. ‘Strange, neh, how both men died on the same day?’

He was talking about Jiang Lei now.

‘Now he was a great man.’

Shepherd smiled. ‘There are those who would argue with you, Li Chao Ch’in.’

‘But not you?’

‘No. Not me. I admired his qualities. He was a true man. And, rarest of all things, an honest man.’

‘Then come… let’s celebrate his life.’

As the last rays of the sun settled over the edge of the City, Li Chao Ch’in’s cruiser set down on the pad above where Jiang Lei rested, in his bed, in the First Level mansion that had been his home these past twenty years.

Stepping down from his craft, the new T’ang of Europe looked about him. It was silent up here on the roof of the City. A silence broken now and then by gusts of wind which blew the gathered dust about in swirls.

He turned as Shepherd stepped out of the craft.

Shepherd looked about him a while, then grinned. ‘I should have built it with more character, neh? A few more minarets and the odd bridge and decorative fountain. As it is…’

‘It works,’ Li Chao Ch’in said. ‘It may not be beautiful, but beauty generally comes at a price, neh? Some rich man’s folly paid for by a thousand poor men’s graft.’

Shepherd stared at him, taken aback. ‘You surprise me, Li Chao Ch’in. Such sentiments…’

‘Can be expressed but once, between you and I, and never again.’

They fell silent. Across the way from them a welcoming committee was forming up, near the airlock.

‘Come,’ Li Chao Ch’in said. ‘Let us do our duty.’

Li Chao Ch’in knelt at the bedside, Shepherd stood directly behind him, both of them bending their heads in respect to the man who lay there, serene in death.

Across from them, on the other side of the massive bed, Jiang Lei’s family waited silently, knelt with their heads lowered, as the T’ang and his advisor paid respect to their Head of Family.

All, that is, except for young Lo Wen. As if she knew she would never witness such an event again, she had raised her head, looking across at the two great men who had come to pay their respects to her
yeh-yeh
. And they did indeed look like great men, the one – Li Chao Ch’in – for his impressive silks, the other – Shepherd was his name – for his great shock of hair, his beard and his fierce eagle eyes.

As the T’ang stood once more, she saw how his eyes went to her and, despite the solemn nature of the moment, he smiled.

Lo Wen liked that. Liked that he wasn’t like the others, cold and haughty.

‘My dear friends,’ Li Chao Ch’in began, addressing them all. ‘I heard with great sorrow of Jiang Lei’s death, and have to come to celebrate the man. Tomorrow, it has been decided, will be a holiday, to celebrate his life. And to give universal thanks to a man who helped this great world of ours through its birthing pains. A great man. A truly great man.’

There was a great murmur of satisfaction from the family at that. Satisfaction and surprise at the great honour being done their family.

‘
Chieh Hsia
…’ they answered, bowing low once more, the word hissing out from every mouth, uncoordinated, so that it sounded echoey and strange.

‘And you,’ Li Chao Ch’in said, gesturing to Lo Wen. ‘You must be Jiang Lei’s granddaughter… Lo Wen, is that right?’

She grinned, delighted that he knew her, and bowed her head.

‘Come here, child.’

Li Chao Ch’in picked her up and held her a moment, pleased with how pretty she was.

‘I had two daughters once like you,’ he said, and there was the faintest wistfulness as he said it. Only as he set her down again, he was smiling.

‘You must come and visit me,’ he said. ‘At Tongjiang, once it is rebuilt. You and your family, of course.’

‘
Chieh Hsia
…’ the older members of the family uttered, honoured even further by this invitation, which spawned yet another spate of bowing and murmuring.

Li Chao Ch’in’s eyes had returned to the figure laid out on the bed.

When he had first worked for Tsao Ch’un as advisor, Jiang Lei had been a figure of awe to him – someone not merely to admire, but to aspire to. It was Tsao Ch’un who had made their world, certainly. But it was the spirit of Jiang Lei, and his alter ego, Nai Liu, who had transformed it. Without Jiang Lei this world of theirs would have been a different, darker place.

Again he bowed his head. ‘Master Jiang… go in peace…’

He would have a great marble edifice built for Jiang Lei. A place where his descendants could come and give honour to their illustrious ancestor; where they could sweep his grave and burn incense as of old. Counterpoint to the well where Tsao Ch’un’s bones lay rotting and untended.

He looked to Shepherd. ‘Do you wish to say anything?’

Amos stepped forward. He stood still a moment, looking down at the old man. Then, leaning over him, he kissed his brow and taking a single black stone from his pocket, placed it in Jiang Lei’s right hand.

‘For old times’ sake,’ he said, and stepped away.

Later, flying back in the craft, on their way to Bremen, where repairs had already begun, the two men looked across the cabin at each other.

‘Why no cameras?’ Shepherd asked.

‘Because he deserved better than that from us. Deserved not to be used for some cynical act of propaganda.’

‘Yet you meant what you said.’

‘I did.’

‘Then…?’ But Shepherd was confused now. It had seemed, to him, the
perfect opportunity to make an impression – to make a firm statement to all the citizens of Chung Kuo that they were starting anew, and that the figure of Jiang Lei was to be their template now.

‘Leave it,’ Li Chao Ch’in said, knowing that Shepherd would not understand. Not that he really understood it himself. Only that it had not seemed right to make that private moment public.

And the girl. Lo Wen. Such a pretty thing she’d been. So like his darling Kuei.

He looked down, a cold shadow falling over him at the thought. For a moment he had forgotten. For the briefest instance the pain had gone away. Looking up, he met Shepherd’s eyes once more – saw how Amos watched him closely, intensely, but for once with an unfeigned sympathy.

‘It
will
get better,
Chieh Hsia
.’

‘Will it?’

‘You must take a new wife. Replace the children that you lost.’

Li Chao Ch’in stared at him aghast. ‘
Replace?
’

‘You cannot live in a void, Chao Ch’in. You survived, and that must be made to mean something. Li Chang So can take your place in Council, once he’s old enough, but for now you need to go forward not back. However much you hurt, you can’t afford to dwell on it. If you were any other man, maybe… only you are T’ang now. One of the Seven. It was not fated for you to be a common man and suffer common miseries.’

There seemed some truth in that. Even so, his heart rebelled against it. Shepherd had not lost what he had lost. Shepherd had not paid the price
he
had.

‘If I could turn back time…’

‘Yes,’ Shepherd said, softer than before. ‘And yet you can’t.’

Li Chao Ch’in was silent for a time, staring at his hands, then looked up at Shepherd again.

‘We won,’ he said quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe we won.’

Shepherd nodded. ‘I know. But that’s the easy part.’

SUMMER/WINTER 2098

‘Going to see the river man

Going to tell him all I can

About the ban

On feeling free.’

—Nick Drake, ‘River Man’, 1969

J
ake stood beneath the arch, getting his breath, looking out across the sunlit veranda towards where the children were playing.

It was late morning and he had woken from a dream. A rare dream. Of Corfe. One that bore no resemblance to his usual fogged and half-formed recollections. No. This once he had been there, looking back from the ridge-way, the castle’s shape cut cleanly against the blue of the sky.

In the dream he had felt the wind tickling the hairs on his arm, felt the sun’s warmth on his back through his thick cotton shirt. Late summer, back in the days, before China had come.

One of the children noticed him; saw him standing there in the great curve of the moon door, and ran over to him.

It was Cath’s youngest, Beatrice. The vivacious nine-year-old was wearing a special blue silk dress for the occasion. She looked like a Han princess, her dark hair coiled in a bun, a delicate pink and blue butterfly brooch securing it.

The Han clothes the children wore these days confused him sometimes; made them all look the same, but Beatrice was different. She was her own person. A real character. Which was why she was one of his favourites.

He bent down, his ancient features creased into a smile. ‘Hey, sweetheart. You been here long?’

She grinned back at him. ‘We’ve been here
hours
,
Yeh-yeh
… Auntie Meg said we weren’t to make too much noise. She said that you and Nanna needed your sleep, but it gets awfully boring being quiet!’

He laughed. ‘Well, now you don’t have to. Now you can make as much noise as you like!’

He watched her run away and rejoin her playfellows, eager to tell them the good news.

Jake stretched and yawned.

Maybe it was just the day. Birthdays always got him thinking, and Mary’s birthday more than most. They would all be here later on – family and friends. Here to celebrate, before it was all gone. Before…

He stopped himself.

Savour it while you can. Before the world is nothing but ghosts.

Jake turned, looking back at the big, three-tiered house. Peter had done well for himself. Very well. Only there was something overbearing about these big Han mansions that set his teeth on edge. Grand they might be, and elegant… but they were dauntingly uncomfortable. All those big vases and formal chairs. Like living in a giant waiting room.

‘Yes, but waiting for what?’ he said quietly, and laughed.

He was still chuckling when Beth came out.

‘Daddy… why didn’t you say you were up?’

‘I’ve only just surfaced. I’ve left Mummy in bed. Thought she could do with an extra hour.’

Beth smiled at that, then leaned in, embracing him and kissing his cheek warmly, the scent of plum blossom washing through his senses.

Again, it was distinctly Chinese.

As she stepped back he looked at her, studying her face.

In her fifties now, Beth was still a lovely woman. There were signs of ageing, sure, at her neck and in the skin of her arms, but the crow’s feet about her eyes only enhanced her beauty. Or so
he
thought.

‘What’s Peter up to?’

Her smile was beautiful.

‘Organizing things. You know how Peter is. He’s been up since dawn.’

Dawn
, Jake thought.
Lights up, more like
. But he said nothing. He’d promised Mary he’d not cause any trouble today or say all the wrong things like he sometimes did. No. He was going to be on his best behaviour. But it still rankled, beneath the surface. The fakeness of this world of theirs.

‘I… had a dream,’ he said hesitantly, looking away, not wanting her to see how much it had troubled him.

‘A dream?’

‘Of the old days. It woke me.’

‘Ah…’

Yes, ‘
Ah
…’ he thought, and wondered how they managed that particular trick – the not-thinking-of-how-it-was trick. They seemed to find it easy, whereas he…

‘It’s okay,’ he said quietly, looking to her again, conscious of the camera on the eaves nearby. ‘I won’t misbehave.’

‘Good,’ she said, as if to a little boy, then leaned close to kiss him again. ‘Now I must go through and help the others.’

‘You should have got caterers,’ he said. ‘All that work…’

But Beth would have none of it. ‘You know how much Meg and Cath like to do it all themselves. And besides, it’s not just about preparing the food. It’s the talk. We get so little chance to catch up on things.’

‘What are you cooking?’

‘A nine-course meal. Lots of things you’ll like, don’t worry.’

Maybe and maybe not
, he thought, but he’d been hoping that they’d do a barbecue, like in the old days. Only that too was fraught with danger. Anything that touched upon the past.

He watched Beth go, then, with one last wistful glance across at the children, turned and went back inside.

Jake had been sitting in the low armchair this last hour and more, half dozing in the sun. Mary, the subject of all this activity, was sitting forward in the chair to his right, laughing and joking, as full of life as she always was on these occasions and acting as though the last thirty years had changed nothing.

He didn’t know how she did it, but he sometimes wished he felt more comfortable in his skin – like she did. She and her brood, all of whom were here today. When you counted the in-laws, it came to four daughters, three sons and a full seventeen grandchildren, not to speak of two great-grandchildren.