The Silk Tree (15 page)

The dawn came as it always did, a delicate rose touching every rooftop in Yeh Ch’eng in a show of splendour at the new day. But as the light strengthened, it brought another sight: spreading across the whole horizon to the north was an ochreous cloud, ugly and ominous. Lazily rising, it was driven up from the fine wind-blown soil around the Yellow River by the advance of a great army – of the warlord Kao Yang.

Rubbing her still-sleepy eyes, Ying Mei rose from her bed and went to the window. The yellow-brown line smudging the skyline was hateful and frightening. She could hear disturbances in the city as its significance spread.

She waited for Tai Yi to appear in attendance, but remembered that, of course, she had sent her away from the palace the previous night.

Then the bedroom door opened noiselessly and her Gold Lily Lady-
in-Waiting
entered.

‘Ah Lai! Why are you here?’ Ying Mei gasped.

‘Is not this my place of duty?’ she said, finding combs and ribbon.

‘You must leave, Ah Lai. It’s not safe any more!’

‘My family have gone, they are out of harm’s way, My Lady. But I would not rest if I thought my
yuan kua
was left unattended.’

She parted her mistress’s hair and brushed it in long, practised sweeps, then
paused in mock irritation. ‘Do keep still, my pet,’ she said, positioning her head before continuing.

‘But you’ll—’

‘Things will go hard for us all soon, and you will need someone to look after you, my dear. Don’t worry, we’ll make do.’

Ying Mei choked back her feelings.

Kao Yang struck early. In the Hour of the Rabbit, before the more auspicious Hour of the Dragon could come, it was clear that a clash at arms was taking place just beyond the walls of the city. Faintly, on the still morning air, brassy stridency, screams and the continuous din of weapons carried out from a whirling ocean of dust that was blotting out the bloody scenes.

Ying Mei ran into the courtyard, trying to escape the terrifying sounds. Past the ornamental pond, the lion-carved gates empty of guards, she fled instinctively into the sanctuary of the Inner Court – and the Throne Room.

The incense braziers were not lit and the close odour of ancient decay lay heavy on the air. There were few officials in attendance but five loyal guards stood to attention close to the hanging gauze.

‘Is …?’ she gasped.

One nodded importantly.

She fell prostrate. ‘Heavenly Lord, I beg forgiveness for my intrusion. I … I—’

‘Be still, child. You come for reassurance from your emperor and that is a very natural thing.’ The voice had a strength in it, a dignity that reached out to her.

‘Sire – may I … c-could I s-stay here?’

‘Granted – if you do read to us from the classics of Han while we … wait.’

She rummaged in a nearby chest: works sanctified by the centuries, the learning of scholars in remote dynasties of China separated by vast gulfs of time, yet joined to the present by a golden thread of enduring values.

It steadied her as she read; the written characters, strong and upright, scribed by long-dead sages who seemed to be talking to her directly. The
Book of Odes
, the
Great Learning
, the
Doctrine of the Mean
. Confucius, K’uo Tzu, Ch’uang Tzu. She felt their strength and certainty – and was comforted.

She was deep into the transcendent mysteries of the
I Ching
, the Book of Changes, when the Grand Chamberlain appeared.

He said nothing but proceeded to perform a ceremonial kowtow, the three times three of prostrating full-length before his emperor, his forehead gently touching the ground repeatedly in humble obeisance.

He rose at last, and head bowed, intoned, ‘Great Ruler – the gravest of tidings. The Lord Kao Yang and General Wu met in battle and it is my solemn duty to inform the Dragon Throne that General Wu was overcome, his forces slaughtered. He was executed in the field.’

There was the briefest hesitation before he went on, ‘This, therefore, is the last sanction. Yeh Ch’eng must fall.’

From behind the hanging a serene voice replied, ‘We understand.’

‘Does the Son of Heaven comprehend also that there is still a little time in which the way is clear for a retreat to—’

‘The Empire of Wei will not be yielded up by flight. We will occupy the throne until heaven mandates otherwise.’

The Grand Chamberlain bowed silently and withdrew to the shadows where he stood motionless, waiting. Others joined him; quiet, expressionless, dignified.

A towering stillness descended.

Long minutes turned into an hour. Distant sounds of cries, the rumbling of massed horses and full-throated shouts came fitfully.

Another hour passed. The noise faded and there was now nothing but a death-like silence. It seemed to Ying Mei that the world was clamped into an infinite suspension of time, an unreal floating of the spirit in a state of—

The door crashed open and a dozen warriors burst in. Swarthy, and in field tunics stained from the battlefield, they bore Kao Yang’s cruel falcon cipher.
Fanning out quickly, with swords up, they took commanding positions.

‘Let no one move!’ shouted an officer at the door.

Ying Mei’s heart beat wildly but she remained by her father’s side, her hands tightly clasped within her sleeves. There was no sound from behind the yellow gauze hanging.

The officer walked about warily among the stock-still figures until, apparently satisfied, he gestured to one of the soldiers.

Minutes later the stillness was interrupted by voices outside and then, with a shocking suddenness, the warlord Kao Yang was in the doorway, feet planted astride, thumbs hooked belligerently into a broad belt. Under a rich scarlet battle cloak he still wore his lapped plate armour. A tall, gold-tasselled hat looked out of place on his stout figure.

He glanced about arrogantly. ‘Emperor of the Wei!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve come!’

There was no indication from behind the yellow gauze that he had been heard.

The Grand Chamberlain came forward and bowed low. ‘The ancient ways of piety and respect are not so easily to be set aside. The Son of Heaven is not accustomed—’

Contemptuously, Kao Yang knocked him sprawling. Ying Mei gasped but held still, trapped in thrall to events, as was the rest of the court.

Kao Yang strode up to the canopied dais and ripped away the fine gauze in savage tugs until the Emperor of the Wei was revealed. Sitting calmly, and dressed in full imperial regalia, he stared back unblinking at the intruder.

‘Yield up the throne to me. Your reign has ended this day!’

‘Make your obeisance, Lord Kao Yang,’ the Emperor demanded quietly. ‘The Mandate of Heaven has not passed from my hands.’

‘Ha! Then how do you account for me being here, with you at my mercy like a common cur? The gods have withdrawn their favour, Yuan Shan Chien, and better you know it!’

A smothered gasp went up at the great disrespect shown by the deliberate use of the Emperor’s common birth name.

‘You would risk the wrath of heaven, Lord Kao Yang? To seek to depose the rightful emperor is—’

‘I will have the throne! Take him,’ he ordered the soldiers, gesturing savagely.

They hung back, clearly reluctant to lay hands on the person of their emperor.

‘Remove him or I’ll have you craven scum gutted and hung like sheep!’

In visible consternation, they still hesitated, some making ineffective attempts to move forward.

Kao Yang went red with fury but was forestalled as the Wei Emperor rose painfully and said, ‘We do declare that we have been overborne by forces beyond our power to control and therefore this day must yield up our ancestral rights to another.’ He moved to the front of the dais and with the utmost nobility descended the steps, ignoring Kao Yang. His five guards fell prone in a kowtow, remaining in the position even after their emperor had left the Throne Room.

Regaining his composure, Kao Yang snapped to the officer, ‘Take them out and decapitate them.’

As the guards were dragged away, he challenged the room with a fierce glare, then turned and mounted the steps. At the top he wheeled about triumphantly. ‘Take heed, you people of Wei! Know that you see before you your new emperor, the first in line of a new dynasty – the Northern Ch’i!’

It was done. It was now manifest that the gods had seen fit to withhold their protection, and thus whatever the fate of the old, allegiance and duty would transfer to the new.

In the appalled silence first one, then several quavering chants rose. ‘
Wan wan siu! Wan wan siu! Wan wan siu!
’ Others joined in, then more, until the hall rang with fervent shouting.

Kao Yang held up a hand and the noise quickly died. ‘Each of you will make his obeisance.’

As figures came forward to fall prostrate in the ceremonial kowtow, his eyes roved suspiciously over them.

‘Send for scribes, secretaries,’ he commanded. ‘We wish set down from this hour the first records of the Northern Ch’i.’

The Emperor leant back in the throne, his hands casually stroking the lion knobs on its armrests. ‘We shall now decide on our court,’ he declared, a brief nod inviting a first candidate.

‘Son of Heaven and Extreme Ruler, I am First Eunuch Yuan,’ the man said in oily tones, falling to his knees before him, ‘as has served the previous emperor to his entire satisfaction. Should you require a discreet and worthy—’

‘Yes, we know. A eunuch who has had the ear of the Dragon Throne for far too long.’ The Emperor looked down on him with contempt. ‘We must make sure your secrets stay with you, dog. Strangle him.’

Three soldiers fell on the stupefied man, pinioning him as he knelt. A fourth wound a silken tie around his wrists and with a knee in the eunuch’s back looped it about his throat and deftly twisted it tight, holding it in place while the body jerked and writhed. After it shuddered and gave a last spasm the soldiers dragged it swiftly away, feet first.

A few in the court turned to try to escape but were quickly held with a clash of weapons.

Sick with horror, Ying Mei watched the swelling nightmare.

‘So. A new emperor reigns.’ Kao Yang demanded loftily, ‘Bring me wine, fruit from the ice pit. If we’re an emperor we mean to live like one!’

There was a terrified hesitation, then a courtier was pushed forward. He fell to a grovelling kowtow. ‘S-second Eunuch Liu, Great Ruler. Does the Emperor of Ch’i prefer—’

‘Honest rice wine, toad!’ The man scurried away as if all the demons of hell were after him.

With a suddenly benign expression the Emperor gazed about. ‘Now which is the Grand Chamberlain? Step forward that minister and we’ll take a look at you.’

He approached, then performed a measured kowtow in neat, formal motions. ‘Kuo Ming Lai, if it please the Celestial Dragon.’

Heart in mouth, Ying Mei watched as her father waited for his fate.

‘Kuo. And you stayed by your emperor. What does this mean, then? That you do not recognise the succession of the Northern Ch’i? That you’ll refuse to disavow the dynasty of the Eastern Wei that is now past?’

The silky menace was chilling but Kuo replied in calm, even tones. ‘If I had abandoned my emperor then I would not be worthy of respect as first minister to the throne. The next emperor would be wise to distrust any protests of devotion and thus cast me aside.

‘However, the Son of Heaven knows that the sage Confucius confides that of all qualities in a gentleman, filial piety is the greatest. And if the Dragon Throne intercedes for us all, then it must be said that the greatest piety is due the Emperor. Sire – if the first emperor of Ch’i occupies the Celestial Throne, then all piety is due to his person. There is my loyalty and that is my duty.’

‘Ha! They said you were good, Kuo, and they were not wrong. A wordy scholar, perhaps, but you mean well.’

The eunuch Liu returned with a platter of fruits, accompanied by a younger attendant who bore the imperial wine jug and white jade goblet. Shaking, Liu began to pour from the magnificent jug, aware that on it a sinuous carved dragon with five toes was entwined about a haughty crane, the insignia of the Eastern Wei.

‘I t-tremble that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years does take offence at this poor article – about its decoration, I m-mean,’ Liu stammered.

‘Never mind that, you cretin – pour the wine!’ roared the Ch’i emperor.

Liu hastened to obey and when the goblet had been snatched and drained, he carefully refilled it, then proffered the fruit.

The new emperor picked some grapes up suspiciously. They were fat and dewy from the ice pit and glimmered with a soft inner glow of red.

In an explosion of rage he threw them aside. ‘They have seeds? These are not fit for an emperor, you vile cockroach! Get me mare’s nipple grapes or by heaven I’ll see you leave your bones at the Great Wall workings!’

It was a near impossible demand: they grew only in the desert oasis of
Turfan and would have to be shipped out packed in snow from the Tien Shan mountains.

Kao Yang glowered. ‘Do we have to show you how to serve an emperor? We’ll have some order in this court if we have to punish every last one of you. What do you say to that, Kuo?’

Calmly, he intoned, ‘Confucius said, “The progress of the superior man is upwards; the progress of the mean man is downwards.” Therefore it is to be understood—’

‘Yes, yes, we know all that. And if you’re going to be our grand chamberlain you’re to learn that this court will be run just how the Emperor of Ch’i wants it.’

Kuo bowed wordlessly.

‘Well? Do you want to be grand chamberlain? Swear to be our man, serve us only and so on?’

‘As this poor person is able, sire.’

‘Then you are so promoted. Let it be recorded.’

The small eyes grew calculating and cruel. ‘And as you’ll be serving me at all hours, we shall be merciful. Quarters will be provided for your family here in the palace.’ There was a significant pause before he added, ‘And from this hour they are not to quit the Inner Court for any reason at all – under pain of instant death! Does that please you, Grand Chamberlain?’