Empire of Dragons (45 page)

Yun Shan suddenly shot backward, rebounded and flung herself at her opponent, delivering a downward blow of tremendous power. Metellus’s two
gladii
rose up to cross over his head and trap Tip of Ice in a steel vice.

They looked into each other’s eyes, panting.

‘Would you have killed me?’ asked Metellus.

Yun Shan did not answer.

Metellus moved even closer. ‘Would you have killed me?’

‘Yes,’ replied Yun Shan. ‘Because the death that Wei will give you will be a thousand times more painful.’

Metellus dropped his
gladii
.

Tip of Ice descended inexorably but stopped at a hair’s breadth from his head.

Metellus moved her arm away and got even closer. He could feel the heat of her breath. ‘But you couldn’t do it,’ he said.

Yun Shan sheathed Tip of Ice.

Metellus clasped her to him and kissed her. A long, ardent kiss, while the last flash of light went out.

They had fought all day long.

A
T THAT MOMENT
, Dan Qing was entering his quarters. He closed the door behind him. He heard a sound that had become familiar, the ticking of the mechanism that rotated the roof of the silver cage that Daruma had sent him. Then he heard a click, so clear that it made him turn. The door of the cage had opened and the dove was flying out of the open window. Dan Qing watched as the bird soared across the courtyard towards the darkening sky; it was flying in circles, confused. The prince hoped that it would return, as house animals do when it gets dark, but the dove took off towards the forest that covered the surrounding hills and in just moments had vanished from sight.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Metellus was woken by one of the monks, who informed him that Princess Yun Shan was waiting for him in the
palaestra
courtyard, and that he should bring his riding gear. Metellus washed, dressed and went as quickly as he could to the courtyard. He was anxious to see what she had in mind. If they were truly going for a ride, that would be the first time he had been allowed to leave his quarters since he’d arrived at Li Cheng.

Yun Shan did not even wait for him to greet her but leapt on to her horse and spurred it on. Metellus did the same and the two of them galloped through the gate that opened on to the village.

It was a small settlement of houses scattered on the hillside, clustered around a road paved with grey stone. Although they were moving quickly, he noticed that there were no monks to be seen, so all of them must live inside the fortress. The people walking along the road had a very particular appearance, their features noticeably different from the other Chinese he’d seen up till then.

They’d soon ridden through the village gate and found themselves in a dense forest of giant canes stretching south over rocky hills that sloped down towards the open countryside. Beyond the forest was an area of vast rolling meadows edged by a line of green knolls where a narrow river flowed, flanked by trees that were certainly ages old. Towards the west an imposing group of grey cliffs jutted up from the terrain. Their colour and shapes contrasted so sharply with the rolling greenery that they seemed a sort of natural monument.

Metellus followed Yun Shan in that direction and caught up with her so that they were riding side by side, until the girl pulled on her horse’s reins and jumped to the ground, leaving the animal free to graze. Metellus did the same, but he tied his own mount, which he was not familiar with, to a woody plant. When he turned, Yun Shan was leaning against a big tree which had grown in a crevice between the enormous rocks. He walked close and sought her eyes.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked him.

‘Like someone who has risen from the dead. Like a new man,’ replied Metellus.

‘I imagine that must be a pleasant sensation.’

‘It is in part, although it’s not easy to forget the past . . . Why did you stay away from me for so long?’

‘I wanted you to face your memories, as I struggled with my own. Now perhaps we can look one another in the eyes without wounding each other every time.’

‘Do you still think that Wei will destroy me?’

‘He knows all the secrets of a centuries-old art . . .’

‘And I’ve just had a few months of initiation.’

‘But you have been training in the
palaestra
designed by Mo Tze himself. Few have had this privilege.’

‘How do they produce those beams of light in which the adversary suddenly appears?’

‘I don’t know. It’s a machine of some sort.’

‘Who does know? Dan Qing?’

‘No, I don’t think so. The eldest of these monks must know. He is a venerable old man. My master, Wangzi, was his disciple.’

‘I will be using the arts you have taught me to defeat Wei . . . but I can’t stop thinking that he himself is a victim.’

Yun Shan bowed her head. ‘It’s true,’ she said in a whisper, ‘but Wei has chosen a road that can lead only to destruction. To cruel, unlimited power. The Flying Foxes are a confraternity of bloodthirsty fanatics who are blindly obedient to him. But, you know, there’s something even more alarming about them . . .’

‘I do know what you mean,’ replied Metellus. ‘There was a moment, as we were fighting in the arena, when I had the clear sensation that the Flying Foxes were moving like limbs of the same body, commanded by the same mind.’

‘I think you’re right. You’ve hit upon the truth. But to achieve this, he’s lost all respect for the human condition.’

‘There are some wounds that never heal,’ observed Metellus.

Yun Shan looked up at him and Metellus saw that her eyes were full of unfathomable sorrow. He touched her hair.

Yun Shan turned away and walked towards a cave that opened at the foot of the towering grey cliffs. She entered.

Metellus knew that if he followed her into that cave his life would change and nothing would be as it had been, but he also knew that he desired Yun Shan more than life itself. The fragrance which had pulled him back from the other world, her fragrance, was stronger than any other memory. He entered slowly and looked around. It was a big natural cavern and the white limestone-streaked walls were full of carvings: hunting scenes, herds of fleeing animals, galloping horsemen loosing arrows. Images of inconceivable antiquity in a land already so ancient.

The floor was covered with clean, golden sand and on the sand were the blurred prints of bare feet.

She was in front of him, her raven-black hair loose on her shoulders, gazing at him with a look so feverish that he felt his body and soul take flame. He forgot everything when she enveloped him in her embrace and her hair caressed his neck and shoulders. They let themselves fall, clinging to one another, on to the bed of sand, entwining with impatient frenzy, seeking each other with trembling hands. Metellus was engulfed in that intense fragrance – he could smell it in her hair, on her lips, on her smooth, arching stomach. He kissed her everywhere, while she abandoned herself to the panting heat of his breath, opened her virginal body to his tumultuous desire.

They made love endlessly, passionately, and then more gently, with languid exhaustion. When they finally fell back, spent, they could hear the voice of the wind blowing through the forest of giant canes.

‘Will you stay with me, Xiong Ying?’

‘I will stay with you,’ said Metellus. And he was sincere as he pronounced those words. A deep calm had followed the storm of sense and spirit and he was pervaded by a melancholy awareness that a destiny had been carved out for him in that limitless land, in that territory guarded by invisible dragons whom none could flee.

‘You will forget,’ said Yun Shan. ‘When you have won, you will forget. You will learn to rise with the sun each morning.’

T
HEY STARTED BACK
before dusk and stopped to contemplate the walls of the citadel, which were illuminated by the sun setting behind the mountains. The road paving at that point was as smooth as marble and quite slippery. They continued on foot, leading their horses by the reins.

‘Li Cheng is the only centre of resistance to Wei,’ Yun Shan explained. ‘It has never been conquered only because no one knows how to get here. There’s a rock wall on the river side and a thick bamboo forest on this side that hide the fortress from sight until you are very close.’

Metellus watched a dove tracing wide circles in the paling sky. ‘Only that bird up there,’ he said, ‘can see it all and count the houses one by one.’

‘Yes,’ replied Yun Shan, ‘but he cannot speak. And so no one can ever be told.’

They passed a boy with two buckets of water hanging from either end of a pole who stopped to look curiously at the stranger.

Metellus looked back in surprise: the child’s nose was straight, his eyes big and dark. He bent down for a closer look but the boy, frightened, dropped his buckets and ran off.

‘Wait!’ shouted the Roman. ‘Wait, please, I won’t hurt you!’

The child turned, saw Yun Shan’s reassuring smile and slowly retraced his steps. Metellus knelt so that his gaze was level with the boy’s. His features were not Oriental! A strange, involuntary emotion gripped them both as they looked into each other’s eyes and recognized their mysterious similarity. Metellus brushed the boy’s cheek with his fingers.

‘He reminds you of someone, doesn’t he?’ asked Yun Shan.

‘Yes,’ replied Metellus with shiny eyes. ‘Yes.’

Intimidated, the boy backed off, picked up the pole and buckets, and took to his heels.

‘How can that be?’ asked Metellus. ‘How is it possible? Those features, the colour of his eyes . . .’

He hadn’t finished speaking when a man came up to the boy and took the two water buckets. His father, probably. A man much taller than normal, with a thick, bristly beard, a square jaw and an aquiline nose. He reminded Metellus of Sergius Balbus, his faithful centurion.

Metellus couldn’t take his eyes off them as he continued: ‘How is that possible? That man has . . .’

‘His features, do you mean? His eyes and beard?’ They remounted their horses and proceeded at a slow place as Yun Shan began her story: ‘There’s a tale that’s told around these parts . . .’

‘What tale?’ urged Metellus.

‘The story of the three hundred Mercenary Devils. You see, during the reign of Emperor Yuandi, a strange thing was said to have happened on our western border. At that time, about three hundred years ago, we were subjected to continuous raids by the barbarians of the north, whom we call the Xiong Nu. The emperor finally managed to get the upper hand by sowing discord among them and setting their tribal factions against one another . . .’

‘
Divide et impera
,’ murmured Metellus.

‘What did you say?’

‘Divide and rule,’ he replied. ‘We do that as well. Evidently all empires must use the same methods. But go on, please.’

‘Well, what happened was that one of his marshals, who had pushed westward to ensure the security of the Silk Road, had learned from a scout that a group of foreign soldiers had taken possession of a fortress on the border.

‘The emperor gave orders to evacuate them, and sent a robust detachment of infantry and cavalry to wipe them out. But they returned in a sorry state after suffering severe losses. The supreme marshal had the inept commander executed for losing to a handful of barbarians, and sent out another, more numerous detachment of seasoned troops with the order not to come back until they had accomplished their mission.

‘The second detachment attacked but were once again repulsed by that obstinate bunch. The scouts returned to describe those foreign devils: they were hairy, with round eyes and square jaws. Just horrible . . .’

Metellus smiled, looking at the black hairs on his arms and stroking his chin.

‘They did battle lined up like fish scales, and sometimes fought with their shields over their heads.’ Yun Shan pronounced those words with particular emphasis, not hiding the emotion she felt: in her mind’s eye she saw Metellus and his men in their desperate resistance against the Flying Foxes.

Metellus felt the same sensation pierce his soul, but he tried to dispel thoughts that were still too painful. ‘Go on,’ he said.

‘The supreme marshal was furious and decided to besiege the fortress, but big boulders rained down from inside the walls, and steel arrows of incredible dimensions, as if they had been loosed by the hands and bows of invisible giants.’

‘
Ballistae
and catapults,’ thought Metellus, becoming increasingly excited by the story.

‘Terror was sown among the troops,’ continued Yun Shan, ‘and they failed to do battle with their customary ardour. News of the catastrophe reached Emperor Yuandi, who decided to go personally to the outpost to see these foreigners.

‘He was so impressed and moved by their extraordinary valour that he asked to meet their commander, but there was no common language in which they could converse. And so the emperor sent a teacher who taught them Chinese and, when they were able to understand each other, they negotiated.

‘Yuandi allowed them to remain in the fortress they had occupied, as long as they agreed to defend that stretch of the border from any invaders. And so it was. But three hundred of them agreed to become his personal bodyguards and they served him faithfully on innumerable occasions. When the emperor died, he bequeathed them the right to found a
tituan
, a colony, and to live as free men right here at Li Cheng. That’s why the people of the village look the way they do. They resemble you, in a way, now that I think about it . . .’ she concluded, looking at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

Metellus almost had tears in his eyes.

‘What’s wrong, Xiong Ying?’ asked Yun Shan.

‘When did you say this episode happened?’

‘If I remember well, it was the twenty-second year of the reign of Yuandi, so that would make it . . . three hundred and fifteen or sixteen years ago, more or less.’

‘They were Taqin like me, weren’t they?’

‘It’s possible,’ replied Yun Shan. ‘When I mentioned their way of fighting with their shields over their heads I thought of you that day in the arena.’