Taming Poison Dragons (24 page)

‘I ask because I am right,’ he replied. ‘At least promise you will think about what I have said. Believe me, I do not wish to bring you pain.’

‘Yet you have!’

I pretended to yawn.

‘The hour is late,’ I said.

He bowed stiffly. We glared at each other. We, who had been closer than brothers.

‘Will you not at least consider my words?’ he said.

We stood apart, staring at the floor

‘I can promise that much. Goodnight to you.’

Our first quarrel as friends. It shook me terribly. One love seemed to have cost another.

The next day I received a summons. All friends of Lord Xiao were to celebrate the wedding of his eldest son, who was in his twentieth year and destined, it was said, for great advancement. The ceremonies preceding the wedding had been an acknowledged topic of conversation among polite society for some time, so splendid were the pre-nuptial gifts.

On the eve of the wedding I stood among a crowd of his clients and dependents outside the bride’s home. It was a house of grandeur, the number of rooms tripled by the number of servants, all very visible. I have always hated waiting in line, yet I was comforted to see men of high position queuing before me.

We shuffled forward into the hall where the dowry was on display. We passed tables laden with jewels, ornate boxes, costly vases, finest wall-hangings painted on silk.

The aim of this display was admonishment. Perhaps the powerful are insecure, for they need to find confirmation of their power in other men’s eyes, as though glory depends on submission. In much the same way, it is said a deity loses its godhead when people cease to worship it.

Those were my thoughts. I was surrounded by conventional exclamations of surprise, for Lord Xiao had stationed secretaries at every trestle. Their task was obvious. To take note of anyone who did not display the required awe. I am sad to say, I could hardly stifle my yawns. P’ei Ti, who stood in the line behind me, doubtless passed the test with more credit.

The next day we were expected to gather at Lord Xiao’s mansion. I joined the crowd outside his gatehouse when it was already several hundred strong. Late afternoon, a cold autumn wind ruffling the tassels and ribbons on the well-wishers’ hats.

One may see many species of humanity in such a crowd. Those who accept their position without question, uncomfortable unless they demonstrate cheerfulness.

Those who fulfil their duties like obedient servants, but retain their sense of self through unobtrusive grumbling.

Those, like me, who find themselves in an uncongenial place, but cannot contrive to reach somewhere better. We were all there.

I stood at the fringes of the crowd, and so had ample opportunity to see the bridal procession as it arrived. First came a dozen singing girls, scattering handfuls of seeds,
cash
coins and cooked beans in front of the gatehouse, to avert baneful influences as the bride entered her new home. Urchins scrabbled to seize what they could. So did the more impecunious of the clerks.

Next came singing girls bearing torches shaped like lotus flowers. In their midst stepped the bride, dripping with finery and happy tears of jade. A plain, broad-hipped girl, ripe for children. Then I saw Su Lin.

My instinct was to hide behind a particularly fat official. I understood her presence at once. She had been hired specially for the occasion to play an honoured role, that of the Chief Singing Girl. She held a mirror and walked backwards in front of the bride, guiding her way. I say, ‘walked’, but ‘floated’ would be a better word.

That was a many-layered pain to me! To see my love serving another woman, however honourably, offended my pride. Worse was the evident enjoyment on Su Lin’s face, her blush of excitement to be attracting so much attention. Her dress and hair-piece in the form of a phoenix, her supple figure, dignity and grace, all exquisite! What a gulf lay between us. I knew something akin to despair.

We followed the bridal procession into Lord Xiao’s vast courtyard. The bride stepped on green-dyed matting and climbed upon a saddle shiny with silver, as is customary.

*

Then she vanished inside, hardly ever to emerge again.

Did Su Lin see me? I did not believe so, and for that I was glad.

Our duties fulfilled, the crowd of clients and protégés dispersed, each to their own little house, each to separate feelings. My imagination raged. I saw the bride and bridegroom drinking their cups of wine before the consummation. Most of all, I saw Lord Xiao’s attention to the flower that was Su Lin, his lust to force aside the petals of her being, and insinuate himself. It seemed no accident she had been chosen as the Chief Singing Girl for these nuptials.

I returned home disconsolate. What a thing it is to love!

To own a heart scored by claw marks.

A few days passed. One afternoon I was lounging on the front steps of Goose Pavilion, watching the progress of a cloud as it journeyed inland, intrigued that it floated alone, a single-boat across the sky. My thoughts were fanciful. Did the Jade Emperor ride that cloud as his pleasure craft? Perhaps it was an Immortal’s daydream, traversing the up-turned lands, mountain and valley, river and forest, just as a dream surveys all it would explain.

The sound of tinkling bells wakened me from this reverie. To my surprise a two-wheeled carriage pulled by a single horse was jolting down the pot-holed path from the high road. Inside, perched Su Lin and her maid, both clutching their seats to steady themselves. So this was the carriage she craved! The coachman whipped on the horse, its eyes staring, jaws flecked with foam.

As soon as she arrived, Su Lin climbed down and ran to my arms, where she sobbed.

‘What is it?’ I cried. ‘Who has wronged you?’

Perhaps one of her clients had forced himself upon her.

I went cold at the thought.

‘Oh, Yun Cai! Take me inside, I must speak to you.’

This I did. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Mi Feng bustling over to comfort Su Lin’s maid, who seemed as distressed as her mistress.

‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘Calm yourself. Tell me what is amiss.’

Her words were lost in tears, so that her elaborate make-up ran down her face.

‘Dearest Yun Cai!’ she cried. ‘I do not know what to do!’

‘You must be calm. Tell me what is wrong, so I can help.’

‘Have you not heard?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have had a most trying afternoon!’

Again sense was stifled by weeping. I waited until she subsided.

‘I must be sensible,’ she said. ‘You deserve that. Lord Xiao summoned me today and made me an offer. An honourable offer, I’m sure he meant it sincerely.’

My heart went cold.

‘What were the terms of this. . . offer?’

‘That I should become his official concubine! He said that though he has three others, I would be his favourite.

He said a splendid house in his grounds, with its own gardens and ponds, had been prepared for me. He assumed I could not refuse.’

I clenched my fists.

‘I must congratulate you,’ I said, coldly. ‘Now you have everything you have always desired. Fine clothes and servants and luxury. All will be yours.’

‘Please do not be angry with me! I could not bear it if you were angry with me!’

‘When do you join his household?’ I asked mercilessly, as one might discuss a simple transfer of property. ‘Or have you already?’

Su Lin gasped.

‘You are cruel! I have told him I could not consent to his offer without careful thought. He seemed very displeased. I thought he might strike me.’

Hope formed a crack in my black mood.

‘He wouldn’t like that,’ I conceded.

‘No, he didn’t. But I do not wish to become his concubine! I have heard his wife is a terrible woman, and besides, he is. . . though such an offer is a great honour, he is not to my taste. Yet who am I to offend Lord Xiao? The world will think me mad.’

‘Perhaps it is the world which is mad,’ I suggested.

‘But what am I to do?’

I sat alongside her on the divan and took her hand. My thoughts whirled. I could speak of my own feelings, but they seemed strangely irrelevant. Su Lin had come to me for guidance. It was my duty to consider all aspects of the question, as a father might.

Firstly, Lord Xiao was powerful, and to scorn him would lead to consequences. He might discourage his friends from using her services, on pain of losing his good will. He might even hire men to physically harm her, or contrive some trumped up charges which brought about her ruin. But everyone in the city would know why and how these things had come about. He would lose much face for being so besotted with a poor singing girl that he took desperate, jealous measures. He would risk becoming a laughing-stock, an object of contempt among the fashionable men of the town. Worse than a cuckold, for at least a married man has enjoyed his wife. . . Yet still he might think it a worthy price to pay for revenge.

On the other hand, Lord Xiao was not without enemies. For all his influence, he had powerful opponents in the court, especially among the Peace-With-Dignity party, who opposed his calls for war against the Northern barbarians as a dangerous policy. After all, our armies enjoyed little success at the time. Such men would seize any opportunity to humiliate Lord Xiao. What could be easier than patronising the singing girl who had rejected his offer? Such an inducement might double the price she could demand. In addition, should Lord Xiao seek to use the law against her, his great opponents would have the means to frustrate him, thereby diminishing his status.

Lord Xiao would be aware of this. It was a risk he would probably wish to avoid, for he was known as a cautious man, who preferred to strike from the shadows. Yet still he might think it a worthy price to pay for revenge.

Nothing was certain, but I inclined to think Lord Xiao would prefer the matter hushed up. Perhaps I was blinded by my own wishes. Yet my acquaintance with him had taught me this much: he hated to look small. What better way to avoid that, than to make light of his offer? I was sure that would be his natural way. Yet still. . .

‘How deep in thought you are!’ Su Lin exclaimed.

‘What are you thinking?’

I ignored her. Sometimes women are tiresome, even those one loves. For I had discovered another possibility.

Lord Xiao’s wife was a notorious she-dragon. His position largely depended on the patronage of her family, for he stemmed from a weaker branch than her own. Her brother’s influence at court was the main pillar supporting his power. If he offended her, he offended her family. For the husband to proceed on some undignified course of revenge against a common singing girl would shame the wife. A coldness might develop with his wife’s relations, the same men he relied upon. They were said to be a proud clan, resentful of insults to their honour.

I looked up, and met Su Lin’s troubled gaze.

‘If you wish to reject his offer,’ I said. ‘I believe it will be safe to do so.’

Then I explained my reasons, elaborating on matters she could not be expected to know. When I had finished, Su Lin seemed reassured, for she was a worldly girl, in her way. Perhaps the intrigues at court resembled games played out among the singing girls. Certain passions are common to every class. Though the form differs, essential truths apply to all.

‘But Yun Cai,’ she said. ‘I must tell you he mentioned your name. I believe that he thinks I hesitated because of my feelings for you.’

In my folly, I laughed, not without bitterness.

‘I hope your feelings for me
do
hold some sway in your decision,’ I said.

In a moment she was in my arms. If I required proof, she gave it that night. I did not allow myself to fear Lord Xiao’s anger. Goose Pavilion had become a house of desperate love. So much so, that when I stepped out to relieve myself in the bushes, I heard Mi Feng busy with Su Lin’s maid in the kitchen. The wind made the bells on her new carriage tinkle forlornly.

The following morning, Su Lin rejected his offer of concubinage in a grovelling letter I composed on her behalf. I thought myself very cunning to hire a scribe to copy it out, so Lord Xiao would not recognise my hand.

It was received with the utter silence I had anticipated, and there seemed an end to the matter. How naïve I was!

All my life I have expected men to behave as I might myself.

But Lord Xiao was capable of schemes I could not conceive.

A week later the poisonous seed spread out its roots. I had broken the cooking cauldrons and sunk the boats. Now came the consequences.

It was a day when minor officials like myself were required to bear witness to the Emperor’s negotiations on our behalf with Heaven. There were a dozen such ceremonies in the official calendar and all began the same way. The staff assigned to the Imperial Library of the Deer Park gathered before dawn, each in his uniform. Then we marched across the Emperor’s Pleasure Grounds and lined up according to our degree, led by the Chief Librarian, until we entered the palace gates.

Here supercilious eunuchs held sway, at least for the likes of us. We joined other streams of officials, as tributaries swell a river, until we took our place in the huge square before His Imperial Highness’s residence.

Thousands were assembled, silent and fearful. As many torches lit the chilly darkness. The occasion, as I recollect, was the Dragon Son’s sacrifice to his ancestors, so the Soil might be renewed.

First the Emperor left the palace in robes of darkest green, riding upon an ivory chariot. As he passed, all torches were extinguished, except those lining the way.

We stood in darkness, craning for a glimpse of the cavalcade, aware of dawn gathering. Imperial Guards bellowed orders to each other. The earth itself shook with drum beats and the solemn, mournful sound of trumpets.

As the court musicians played the prescribed songs, His Highness mounted the altar steps, treading upon carpets of shimmering yellow gauze. So far away, I could barely see as he offered libations to Heaven on our behalf, to the august Earth, and finally to his ancestors. I could not hear as he read from the holy tablets, drinking the ritual Wine of Happiness. Yet the moment was replete with elation.