The Stone Road (7 page)

“Peace,” sneered Hsin, “you do not want peace, truly. You want time to rebuild. I know all about the disaster and coming famine. You cannot stop it, nor buy your way out of it. Give me what I want, the stone cattle who produce gold from grass, and I will guarantee food aid from Wubei and its trading partners.”

“The traders?” the duke asked in a helpless tone and his shoulders slumped.

“Yes, the traders. The best source of information out there. You hoped to have this done and signed before we found out. Hence, the sudden proposal of peace, the giving away of land so easily. We found out and now, I know, you need peace much more than we do.”

The Duke moved slowly, looking years older than when he had walked in, to sit down on the cushions. The calm, warm river that had brushed against Haung’s mind turned deep and sorrowful. It tugged on the walls of his constructed dam, seducing him into drowning in its depths. He stood firm and plugged the gaps and cracks that were appearing along the protective barrier. He could see that, whatever power the duke had was working on the other three men in the room.

“It’s true, Cheng. Not common knowledge amongst everyone at court but you’ve seen the town of tents outside our walls. You’ve seen the stream of newcomers increase in number. My scouts tell me more and more are on the way. My Geographers and Historians can recite times past when such disasters happened and almost destroyed Yaart. Why do you think we have the Jade Cattle? My ancestors have always had them, hidden away in different parts of the country, providing the wealth my family used to build and control Yaart in the first place. The first emperor, Qin-Quay, divided his Herd of Jade Heaven between his loyal supporters. As far as I know, these are the last still alive. The others lost or killed in squabbles over land and wealth.”

“Your Lordship, why did you keep this from me?” Cheng asked, moving to kneel before his Lord.

“Because you would not be able to negotiate as I know you can with this weight of knowledge hanging over your head, only the slender thread of time keeping it from crushing you. We have no choices left. If Wubei want the cattle then give them. You have my permission. If they will aid us in the coming crisis then we stand a chance. If we delay much longer then it will be too late and all the wealth in the empire will not save the people or the city. As the diplomat has said, Wubei could ride in, just a year or two from now, and pick over the ruins of Yaart. Give them the cattle in return for aid.”

“My Lord.” Cheng bowed in obedience.

“Honoured Hsin, my reports on you were correct,” the duke said slowly. “You are a tough negotiator, though my sources underrated your intelligence. Looking back, I could wish that Wubei had sent someone else but the past cannot concern me now, only the future of my people.”

“You have made a wise decision, Duke Yaart,” Hsin said, satisfaction and glee bubbled under his words. “Your people will thank you. Aid will be on its way as soon as the cattle reach Wubei.”

“We may need it sooner than that. You understand the problem of moving the cattle, don’t you?” The Duke’s tone and face were now concerned. “They are not like cows or sheep in the field. They need constant feeding to survive but also, and more importantly for Wubei, they weigh hundreds of tons each. The track between Yaart and Wubei, especially in the mountains will not be enough to support them. One misstep or crumbling trial and they could be lost.”

“Then we will build a road, a strong road to take the cattle and bring your aid. I will speak on your behalf to my Duke. Aid may come sooner than the cattle but we must be assured that they are coming.” Hsin’s voice had returned to its normal whisper.

“I will have the treaty ratified by the emperor as soon as it is signed. I will use our fastest horses and best riders. We could have a response inside a week or two. Also, we will begin work on the road from our end before you leave the city, Honourable Hsin. That should assure you and your Duke of our sincerity. In truth, you know we have no choices left to us but to do this thing. Even to give up two thousand years of my family’s history. It must be done and quickly.” The duke looked at Hsin and waited for a response.

“As you say, Lord of Yaart. It shall be so. We will leave for Wubei as soon as the emperor’s seal is upon the treaty.” Hsin bowed to the duke who then left the room.

Haung followed his lord out and then respectfully closed the doors. His last sight of the room was of Hsin rubbing his greedy hands together in expectation and joy. The doors closed with a solid clunk.

“It all goes to plan,” the duke said.

Part 2

CHAPTER 9

Zhou surveyed the scene. The road, a full 40 paces wide, was nearing the foothills of Wubei province. The winter storm was howling off the mountains and the workers were huddled, cold, around the orange coals of the braziers. No more work would be completed this day, which was fine with Zhou as he was just as exhausted as the builders.

Hsin had returned in triumph to Wubei. The Duke, after seeing the treaty and the emperor’s seal, had promoted Hsin to be the head of the diplomatic service. Hsin’s first act in charge was to demote Zhou from diplomat to bureaucrat. Despite his father-in-law’s pleas and his campaigning of other government officials the decision could not be overturned. Hsin’s rising power was too great. The building of the road had begun and Zhou had been shipped out to manage and account for the work of the advance crew.

“Why did you argue with him?” His wife had asked again and again. Zhou could not muster a defence. He was broken.

The small paunch that Zhou had developed during his teaching career had dwindled to nothing during the weeks on the road. Zhou returned to his tent and sat heavily on the wooden framed bunk. The only other furniture was a small chest that doubled as a writing desk and a stove that provided a meagre heat through the night -  it was more than many of the workers had. He dipped a hand under his pillow and unfolded the artist’s drawing of his son he had commissioned before he left. The little round face, dark almond eyes and innocent smile had been captured perfectly and Zhou gazed at them, sighed, and placed it back. He patted the pillow.

He took the map from the cylindrical case he always carried now. Flattening it out on the bed he traced the route of the road from Wubei to the Yaart capital. His finger rested on Yaart, it was supposed to be the place where he realised his true worth and potential but it had, instead, been the site of his downfall. Angrily, he shook his head and returned his finger to the point on the map the road had reached. A few more weeks in the foothills and then it would be out onto the plains. The winter weather was spreading colds and illness amongst the men of the road crew, work was getting slower and days were being lost. There was no doubt that the final build would be behind schedule unless more men came to help the advance crew out.

Zhou moved over to the writing desk and put a fresh piece of paper on top of the pile. Dipping the brush pen into the inkwell he began to form the characters of a letter. His lines were clean and graceful, each character formed to perfection but the message half-hearted. When he had finished, he placed the brush back onto its lacquered stand and held the letter up to the light to read it back. His eyes moved up and down the columns, ensuring the meaning was clear. Satisfied that it was correct he screwed it up into a ball and threw it into the corner to land alongside the other three he had written today. All of them asking for more men and resources, pointing out the troubles of building in winter and the need to get the foundations of the road completed on time. The road surface laying crew were bound to catch up his advance crew somewhere in the plains and then he would have failed again. There was little point in sending the letters though. All the others he had written and sent had been returned with notes of refusal and exhortations to get on with it. The letter writing was now more a method to work out his own stress than any actual attempt to reason with the bureaucrats above him, each of whom reported to Hsin.

He left his tent and headed to the mess tent. It had become his evening ritual. Write a letter, throw it or, on occasion watch it burn in the little stove, and then head off to get some food. As usual, at this time, the mess contained a good number of builders getting their evening meal before they stumbled off to bed. None of them waved, spoke or in any way acknowledged his presence. He was pushing them hard, he knew it, but they were paid to work, it was their livelihood and they should think themselves lucky not to be pressed into service for a pittance of pay. At least here, they were getting reasonable pay for a hard day’s work.

The crew’s cook, Zhou would never call him a chef, handed over a bowl of steamed rice and waved laconically at the selection of meat sauces. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Zhou watched without expression as it was spooned over his plain white rice, the dark juice searching out the gaps between the grains and sinking quickly. A tiny amount of stringy meat and wrinkled vegetables were left, marooned on the top, like survivors of a particularly vicious shipwreck. Picking up some rough cut chopsticks from the bin, he scanned the room for a place to sit and spotted a likely place not far from the door.

As he sat down, the two other men at the table got up, chucked their bowls in the wash bin and left. They didn’t say a word to him. Sighing, he gripped the largest of the ugly looking vegetables and raising it to his mouth, took a bite. He fought hard not to gag as he chewed and then swallowed. The first bite was always the worst, from then on the taste buds seemed to shut down in self-defence. He forced himself to choke the bowlful of the food down. He had to set a good example, he told himself.

“Zhou,” the rough force came from behind him, “you got us any more men yet. This road is never going to get done in time if you don’t. It can't build itself.”

The bench shook as the heavy and scruffy looking foreman sat down. He had his own bowl of foul food in front of him which he tucked into with relish. Zhou watched him shovel the food into his mouth and chew it with twisted, black and broken teeth. Regarding his own empty bowl, Zhou felt his stomach roil and he pushed it away.

“Wang,” a name that just didn’t fit the foreman, there was nothing kingly about him, “we have no choices left to us. We are not getting any more men but it is clear from all my communications that the road must be finished on time.”

Wang snorted, little bullets of juice-soaked rice flew out from between the gaps in his teeth, “Can’t be done. Won’t be done. My boys are working their guts out to get the foundations properly set but there ain’t no more they can do.”

“They’re paid a good wage to do more. The illnesses will pass and we’ll be back at full strength soon. Good food and hard work will bolster their strength.”

“Yeah, well, we certainly got one out of the two sorted ain’t we.” Wang shovelled another heap of rice into his mouth. Zhou looked away, disgusted by the man and his manners.

“Wang, we do what we are expected to do. We have peace and most of your boys will have a chance to get married and have a family. A little more effort now won’t kill them.” He cursed his choice of words as they left his mouth.

“Tell that to the nineteen we lost bolstering the mountain path. They won’t be having no kids now will they.” Wang spat the words out along with more rice.

Zhou knew the number who had died changing the mountain track into a road wide enough and strong enough to take the weight of what was coming. The accident with the black powder had been investigated by junior bureaucrats sent down by Hsin. Zhou had submitted himself to their insulting questions, their prying and probing into every inch of the camp and the storage of the powder. There was nothing to find or discover apart from simple human stupidity. Anyone who smokes a tobacco pipe when handling the powder deserves to get blown to pieces, Zhou thought, it was just a shame he had to take the other eighteen with him. Once the investigation was complete, the report written and submitted, Zhou had sat down for a day and written individually to the families, as tradition demanded. Also, for tradition’s sake, he included a full three months’ wages in the letters, though he was not convinced it would make it past the mail checkers in the main camp.

“Wang, we have to face facts. We are not getting any more men to complete this job. The track has to be cleared and the foundations laid. That is our duty and we are expected to perform it. No excuses will be granted or accepted. You think anything else and you’re wrong. So,” Zhou paused and gathered his courage, “you will push the men as hard as you can to get it done. As soon as a man recovers enough to work, I want them out there with the others. I want the tally of workers brought to me every day. I want to know of any man who is off work for more than three days, on the fourth day I will stop their pay until they're back out there putting their full strength into it. I hope this is clear to you.”

Zhou watched the blood rush into Wang’s face. The veins on the big man’s neck pulsed and his eyelids twitched but Zhou refused to look away or back down. The stare lasted until Wang broke it, smashing his chopsticks down on the table.

“You ever wonder why you eat alone every night?” Wang asked as he stood and loomed over Zhou, “It’s because you’re an arsehole.”

Zhou watched the overweight giant stomp out of the tent then turned back to the other men in the tent, all of whom had stopped eating to stare.

“Can I help you at all?” Zhou asked them and getting no responses continued, “Then I suggest you finish your food and get to bed. I expect you all to be back on the line at sun up, no excuses.”

Zhou picked up his bowl and went for a second helping, forcing the food past his lips. He was the last one out of the tent and to bed.