The Silk Tree (22 page)

He edged further around. ‘Do convey our thanks to your colleagues who prayed for us so sincerely. We will now take our leave.’

The monk bowed politely – but then called out, ‘
Lao na,
what is wrong with your brother? Is he taken sick?’

Nicander turned around in concern. Marius was bent over, holding his stomach with both hands.

‘Oh, dear. I fear a return of the river fever. I will help him home. Come, Ma
lao na.’

The monk bowed again, his face unreadable.

Out of the monastery, Brother Ni and Brother Ma turned into the lane of the apothecaries and hurried until they were out of sight.

Marius laughed in relief. ‘Be buggered! The monk thought I was pissed!’

‘You did get one?’

He pulled out two bamboo containers.

‘It’s stealing,’ Nicander mumbled in a sudden rush of guilt.

‘I’ve only snitched a couple, they won’t miss ’em in all that lot,’ Marius said in triumph. ‘And now we’re going back to Constantinople – and with what everyone expects us to return with. The doings to make our own silk, for God’s sake! We put ’em in our holy scriptures box – remember that false bottom? No one’s going to look under our sacred writings, are they now!’

It was breathtaking. If they made it through they would have the means not only to make themselves insanely wealthy but earn Justinian’s undying gratitude.

If – they successfully crossed the deserts and mountains, faced demons and barbarians, went in the right direction …

Kuo was waiting for them, his face creased with worry. ‘Thank the heavens. Quickly – inside!’

‘What is it, Kuo
hsien sheng
?’ Nicander said with a sudden chill.

‘Wen Hsuan – he’s hot and angry, determined to find you. I’ve received word from Luoyang. There are imperial agents out, asking about you.’

Terrified of the Emperor’s wrath, they were apparently sparing no efforts to cover the country and Chang An, one of the biggest cities in the Empire and the gateway to the outer world, would be high on their priorities.

‘How far—’

‘My man has only just reached here, but they cannot be long behind. I will hide you here of course, however I fear that the first place they will secure is the caravan terminus. We must pray you’re able to leave before they reach us.’

With nervous apprehension Nicander and Marius prepared for their journey. In the privacy of their quarters the contents of the bamboo tubes were carefully extracted. A mass of undistinguished black earth studded with pale specks, it was easily padded down into the false bottom of the box and the scriptures carefully arranged above, in the main compartment.

Their clothing and necessities were gathered together and packed into a pair of pannier bags and then they were ready.

After a sleepless night they waited in a stew of anxiety. Kuo himself would visit the terminus to see if anything was amiss and leave it until the last moment to send for them.

It was well past midday when word finally came. It was on!

They left the house separately, the two holy men going on foot the relatively short distance to the Western Market, Ying Mei and Tai Yi in a sedan chair took a different route, their baggage yet another.

Nicander was keyed up and the noise and confusion of the bazaars and choked lanes tried his patience. When they reached the caravanserai the substantial quadrangular courtyard was packed with jostling humanity and strings of camels. On the air was a heady compound: the stench of droppings, occasional wafts of perfume, the pungency of old leather and a sense of imminent travel.

There seemed no order to the scene. Kuo found them and took them to where the ladies waited. ‘It’s always like this. Don’t worry, it will sort itself out. The freight camels have already been loaded, there’s only you passengers who are left.’

Eventually a harried clerk with a well-thumbed list came up with two stable boys. ‘Kuo
sheng
! You’re last, do you know that? Or nearly last. I have you down for four – two females for mule and carriage, two males for class three horses, one pack camel through to Khotan, changes at Dunhuang. Right?’

‘Correct, and here they are.’

‘Well, good. The boys will take you to your mounts. Please stand by them, do not leave for any reason, we will not be held liable in the event the caravan goes without you. Understood?’

The clerk made the necessary entries and they were hurried into the throng.

‘Make way! Make way!’ the boys yelled and suddenly they were at the long camel train.

Brother Paul and Brother Matthew’s place was next in line to a snug enclosed carriage for the ladies.

Nicander looked at their two horses with dismay. They were small – halfway in size between a horse and a donkey, a different breed to any he knew.

‘This is your camel,’ one of the boys said.

It was a large two-humped beast with a mournful look and huge eyelashes. It swung its big head to regard him then looked away.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Name?’

‘Yes. What do I call him?’

The lad, surprised, gave a soft smile. ‘This one’s Meng Hsiang, on account he’s always dreaming.’ He fondled the beast’s muzzle. It responded with a subterranean rumble and a grey tongue shot out to touch his hand.

He expertly brought it down to a kneeling position. ‘We’ll load him up now.’

It was skilled work; balancing the load, leading the plaited cords to counter movement and yet not interfere with the camel’s gait, and having the underlying harness cinched just so.

‘I’m going to be a cameleer when I’m big,’ the boy said shyly as he finished up. ‘My father promised.’

He tapped at its rear with a stick. Obediently the giant back legs levered the animal up on the kneeling forelegs then it straightened, not seeming to notice the load at all. He went to its muzzle and inserted a wooden nose-peg and led the line from it to the rear of the saddle of one of the horses.

‘On the road the cameleers will take care of him for you – but don’t let ’em treat him rough, he’ll never forget. And if ever it comes on to a sandstorm—’

The booming of a large gong sounded making conversation impossible. The boy shouted, ‘You’re leaving!’ and scurried away in a general movement to one side of all who did not belong to the caravan.

The noise became deafening with boisterous farewells, restless snarls of nervous camels and orders being shouted up and down the long snaking line.

And there was the Ice Queen, exchanging last words with her uncle. Nicander watched cynically as she finished, putting her hands together in a courtly bow. She straightened, turned quickly and went to her carriage without once looking back. She got in, followed by Tai Yi, and in one swift movement drew the curtains on the outside world.

Heartless bitch!

The little carriage was small and stuffy, worse when the veils were drawn.

Tears squeezed out until Ying Mei’s face, expressionless and rigid, dissolved into a rictus of grief and heartbreak. She surrendered to her emotion, weeping helplessly.

Tai Yi reached for her, held her close, whispering the same endearments she had so long ago when she had comforted a small child on the loss of her friend to banishment.

But then Ying Mei fought back – she was her father’s daughter and would never, ever, shame him. How could she? Such a wise, wonderful, perfect man … who she would not see ever again. It brought on terrible sobs welling up from her deepest being, a flood of pain and desolation that threatened her sanity.

The never-ending din outside beat in on her – but at the same time it gave her a focus. They might well have to face the world before they left and to be caught like this …

She brutally clamped a hold on herself, forced her body into a dignified position and managed a wan smile at Tai Yi.

Her father desired it, therefore there was no recourse to argument or self-pity. She was going to the far lands and that was an end to it.

After all, as she’d told her uncle, there were Chinese princesses who had gone this way before on their way to permanent exile, to be married for political reasons to some barbarian king. They must have gone through this agony but had nevertheless nobly complied for the sake of their country. At least she was not being dispatched to marry a horse-stinking nomad or mountain dwarf.

It made her feel better – but then again they knew where they were going, what their fate was – she didn’t. Would this far country be a terrifying place of witches and goblins, barbarous civilisations who despised the delicacy of Chinese thought and manners? Would the men …

She crushed the thoughts.

Whatever lay in the future she would face it as the daughter of a Kuo. And, she clutched close to her heart, she was a lady, high-born and with an
impeccable education and would never let her standards slip whatever the situation. If she was confronted by barbarians then they would see her quality and respect her nobility …

Certainly she would maintain her distance from the holy men, uncouth and rough-tongued as they were, more or less barbarians themselves. Her father had shrewdly set limits on their familiarity: ‘wise direction’ she would only accept as a last resort and that properly, through her Gold Lily Lady-in-Waiting. They held the chest and means to pay their way through as well as the authority to draw upon her uncle’s account, quite sufficient to keep the holy men humble and supplicants for the length of the journey.

The passage would be long; she and Tai Yi would be in their company all that time and it would be essential to maintain a countenance.

From outside came a sudden massed tinkling of small cymbals and the acrid drift of incense sticks. The drone of chanting began from the Buddhists claiming protection for their journey. This was followed by the hearty thumping of drums and loud gongs calculated to keep the Taoist demons at bay.

They would be leaving very soon.

Deep within her, Ying Mei’s heart began to cry out in its desolation.

The order came down the line. ‘Mount up!’

Nicander swung up on to his horse. The saddle was not a supple leather one but a felted wooden frame, with a high crudely carved lion for its horn. What was so strange were the two foot supports dangling each side. He noticed others had put their feet in the iron loops and he did the same. It felt odd but remarkably steadying.

The crowds were thickening but kept at bay. Much of Chang An had come to see one of their famed caravans set out on their legendary journeys and he was one of the intrepid travellers! His excitement grew.

Marius, trying to control his horse which was gyrating and snorting at the noise, managed a quick grin.

Ahead there was definite movement, heads turning, gesturing. From over
to the right people fell back quickly – and the head of a column of soldiers swung into view.

Nicander’s first instinct was terror – then it was replaced by anger that they had been so easily trapped.

Run? Hide? By now the caravanserai would be well and truly surrounded.

Dully he watched the soldiers tramp around to head off the line of camels, an officer on a horse accompanying them.

They reached the front of the line, then the tall gates of the western wall of the city opened up and the soldiers marched through.

‘It’s our bloody escort!’ Marius gasped in relief.

With a surge of shouting and cries and a tinkle and jingling of harness the front of the caravan set off through the gates.

The ripple of movement reached back to them, and in a haze of unbelief he felt the horse jolt into motion to follow the next ahead. A slight twitch at his saddle showed that their camel was beginning its plod behind them. The whole caravan was under way.

The wall neared, then the open gates – and they were through, in the outside world and on the road heading out.

In a line that stretched for over a mile the caravan wound down the dusty road, past the mean dwellings outside the gates of the town. Excited cries came from the local people.

Another drone of chanting accompanied by horns and cymbals arose from the Buddhist monks. Not to be outdone the soldiers marching in the van began a full-throated song and then the women and girls of the caravan started a spirited chorus with tambourines and drums.

The onlookers applauded, enraptured by the sight of a fabled caravan setting out for the vast unknown. Hundreds of camels mounted or led by as colourful and outlandish a mixture of races and dress as it was possible to be, all in gleeful celebration of their departing.

It stirred Nicander’s soul – these people would be going about their ordinary lives again once they had watched them disappear toward the far-distant mountains, but they were destined to go where very few did, to lands and wonders, adventures and perils that would only tempt disbelief –
if
they got through.

His eyes travelled to the far-off leaders, to the escort, with the easy swing of soldiers long inured to the march. They were followed by a single file of plodding camels piled high with goods, then a string of horses, more camels and then themselves, the travellers, perhaps no more than thirty.

He swung round; close behind was their faithful camel.

A shaggy merchant on a horse followed, his effortless sway showing an easy familiarity. Catching Nicander’s eyes the man launched into a raucous chorus of his own. Marius, beside him, suddenly bellowed out a legionary marching song: a relic of long ago, Rome defiantly rising up in the vastness of Sinae.

Picking up the rear trotted the squadron of cavalry, for the occasion fully mailed and with gaudy pennons a-fly. These were following behind to keep watch on the whole line such that if any point was threatened they could gallop up to be on the scene without delay.

The poorer shacks petered out and the road wound through near identical flat fields.

One by one the songsters fell silent until there was nothing but the slithery jingle of harness and soft clop of hoofs, the creaking of wheels and occasional animal snort, a hypnotic backdrop to their slow but inexorable progress.

Nicander took in the passing scene. The landscape seemed unchanging but he soon found that this was an illusion: at their deliberate walking pace the roadside passed by in an unchanging rhythm and the outer perspectives remained solid and unmoving. However, after an hour’s placid motion distant features had subtly changed their shape, had revealed more of one side.

Of course, this is how it must be – great distances eaten up only by steady and continuous travel. Each new day they would press on in an achievement of endurance that eventually would see all of a thousand miles pass by.

A horse cantered down the line. It was the caravan master who reined in when he saw Nicander.

‘How’s your lady?’ he demanded.

Irritation boiled up in Nicander at the thought of the Ice Queen in her carriage telling her lady-in-waiting to take issue with them for their conditions. ‘How should I know – why don’t you ask her yourself?’

The man’s face tightened. ‘Don’t come it the fool with me, Ni
sheng
! I could make it hard for you before the trip’s done.’

Nicander regretted his outburst. Su was probably under a lot of strain at the outset of a major transit and a moaning female was not what was wanted at this stage.

‘She hasn’t complained to me, Su
sheng
.’

The face eased. ‘Good. Let me know if …’

Nicander nodded, resolving not to let the woman get to him again.

The sun dipped in the sky, cooling the air. Shadows lengthened, evening crickets began their chorus.

Idly Nicander wondered how they would spend their first night. The country was fully under cultivation, the intensive kind peculiar to China where fields ran close to the next with only a narrow path separating them. Where were five hundred camels going to fit?

Soon they entered a small town, pulling off the main road into a lane and through a gate into an expansive quadrangle, much the same as the one in Chang An.

Waiting for them was a line of men who moved forward as the head of the train came to a stop.

‘Dismount! All riders – dismount!’

Nicander swung down painfully. So many hours in the saddle was going to take getting used to.

Under the sharp eyes of the escort the men unloaded the goods the camels carried into carts, to be put under guard until morning while the camels were taken to their stables. A lad came for their horses and they were led away into the main building. There was no alternative but to stay close to Ying Mei for this was a caravanserai and there would be costs involved.

They were efficiently dealt with: a cell for him and Marius on the lower floor with the constant stink of camels, rooms on the airy upper floor for the ladies.

And within the hour a gong announced a meal.

As this was a freight caravan the large hall was only partly occupied.

Nicander held back until he could see how things would be handled.
The monks sat by themselves at one table, the caravan crew were already at merriment at another and all the merchants and other passengers were beginning to gather together at a large communal table. There was no sign of Ying Mei or her sharp-tongued companion.

‘Come on, Marius. We’ll see who we’ve got for company. Some of ’em look interesting …’

Before they could move Tai Yi’s voice behind them snapped, ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you two. Neglecting your duty, for shame! You’re engaged as protectors, your place is with My Lady while she dines.’

‘We’re monks, not guardsmen!’ Nicander said hotly. ‘We’ll sit wherever—’

‘Even holy men can feel hungry if their allowance is cut off! What’s it to be – your duty, or suffer your hunger pangs alone?’

The four were granted a table away from the others.

Nicander reluctantly conceded that two ladies on their own could be at the mercy of revellers if the night developed. For the first time they had revealed a touching dependency. It was a minor triumph and helped him put up with the stifling correctness at the table and perpetually averted gaze.

His ill-humour returned seeing Marius fawning on the woman and the shameless adulation that the caravan master showed when he came up to enquire after her situation.

However, after they had dined the ladies promptly went to their rooms and they were free for the night.

Nicander was too restless for sleep even though warned they would be on their way at first light. He wandered out into the moonlit quadrangle. It was busy with men rubbing down horses, lamplit repairs to camel tack and a long line of animals being fed.

It was a telling picture of the organisation behind an enterprise of this size and his business instinct shied at trying to calculate the overheads of half a thousand camels and horses, not to mention the costs of accommodation for the passage crew which must greatly outnumber the two-legged freight. No wonder the prices of goods passed from market to market in this way were so exorbitant by the time they’d reached their destination.

He was pleased when he spotted his camel, who’d so patiently followed them all day. He was chewing rhythmically, jaws moving sideways. The beast gave no sign of recognition and a huge eye swivelled glassily away.

A young man, probably one of the caravanserai men spelling the passage crew, emerged from the other side where he’d been inspecting one of the animal’s splayed feet. He looked up in surprise.

‘Do you know the name of this camel?’ Nicander asked.

‘Meng Hsiang,’ he answered warily. ‘Fifth time into the desert for this ’un. Never any bother.’

Nicander felt a jet of pride that his camel had stood out in this man’s memory.

‘You’ll look after him, won’t you?’

It came out a little awkwardly but resulted in a pleased smile. ‘O’ course I will. This is your first trip?’

He didn’t seem at all put off by talking to a bearded foreigner and Nicander realised that for him, the exotic must be commonplace.

‘First time. Tell me, why are there so many camels not loaded? There must be at least a couple of hundred not working, taking feed.’

‘Oh, this is the caravan master’s investment, he and his crew. Only the males take a load. There are spares but most of the others are females with their young. They’ll be sold for a good price somewhere along the way, already trained.’

‘Our Mr Su. A hard man.’

‘Has to be. Tells the camel wranglers what he wants and can’t let ’em slack off. Responsible for dealings with customs for unaccompanied cargo after every big stage. Has to know the border entry fees ahead of time, negotiate ’em down, know when to go around. If there’s a run-in between two oasis kingdoms he’s got to talk to both to let him through, and of course his is the last word on which direction to take after a sandstorm. Has to be hard.’

Nicander nodded.

‘And did you know he’s got power of life or death?’

‘Oh?’

‘If there’s misbehaving, thievery, suchlike, he can order the culprit thrown off the caravan. If this is in the Great Desert they’ve no hope.’

‘So, do what he says.’

‘A good idea. Look, I have to go now. ’Ware of the desert demons and have a good journey!’