The Mandate of Heaven Read online

  ‘Well listen to this!’ said Hsiung. ‘I’ve hidden Yun Shu in the watchtower so they can’t crush her feet. That’s how afraid of him I am!’

  Teng’s brush hovered above the paper.

  ‘Hidden her?’

  ‘You said we should be her xia, her heroes!’

  Teng wiped the excess ink off his brush onto the mixing slate. Holding it delicately between finger and thumb, he swirled it in a small bowl of water that turned grey. Hsiung remembered the bucket he had filled with cloudy water that morning. His friend’s hands were shaking.

  ‘You’ve hidden her in our watchtower?’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ offered Hsiung.

  He was prevented by the arrival of strangers.

  ‘Through here!’ called a gruff voice.

  Teng rose and stepped behind his chair, dragging it towards the corner. But Hsiung maintained his stance near the doorway. A burly man appeared. He wore his robes loose in the heat, revealing a bare, hairless chest covered with tattoos. A sword hung from his belt and he carried a short two-pronged spear. Hsiung recognised him as one of the Salt Minister’s hired bodyguards. It was unwise for an official in the Salt Bureau to travel without protection. Salt provoked endless thirsts and grudges. He examined the boys impassively. Only Hsiung returned his gaze.

  ‘Something here!’ called out the man. He was joined by another mercenary with a halberd.

  ‘Take them to Master,’ ordered this second soldier.

  Aware that running away would excite suspicion, Hsiung followed.

  They found Deng Nan-shi still in his library. Except that now their neighbour, Salt Minister Gui, occupied the scholar’s high-backed chair while its owner knelt before him with a bowed head. Hsiung glanced swiftly at Teng, who had flushed with shame.

  ‘Your Honour can be sure we know nothing of your daughter’s disappearance,’ Deng Nan-shi was saying. ‘We live quietly here, in strict obedience to the Great Khan’s laws.’

  Salt Minister Gui reached for an abacus hanging from his belt. He frowned and gripped it tightly.

  ‘Let us hope so,’ he said. He leaned forward and waved a pointing finger. ‘I have heard about you!’

  The hunchbacked scholar smiled modestly.

  ‘I have heard,’ continued the Salt Minister, ‘all about your father. B-because of his pride and vanity this city is like a g-graveyard. Is it true?’

  The kneeling scholar lifted his head and met the Salt Minister’s eye.

  ‘I fear you may be right,’ said Deng Nan-shi.

  ‘I’ve also heard,’ continued the Salt Minister, ‘one of your ancestors was no less than the illustrious General Yueh Fei. A name loved by rebels!’

  ‘He was indeed my revered ancestor,’ said Deng Nan-shi, quietly.

  ‘How strange! Look at his g-great household now! A spineless scholar, two scrawny b-boys and, oh yes, a madwoman.’

  Lady Lu Si had begun keening and moaning in the next room, having curled herself into a tight ball that refused to open, however hard the Salt Minister’s men prodded her with halberd butts.

  ‘Your Excellency is well-informed,’ said the grey-haired scholar.

  ‘I am. I am. So, as I say, let us hope my daughter is not here.’

  Deng Nan-shi sighed regretfully. ‘Your Honour has already searched …’

  ‘Just remember,’ interrupted Gui, ‘inform me. At once, I say!’

  With that he rose. Deng Nan-shi remained on his knees. When the official had gone he met the boys’ frightened gaze and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘See if you can discover his daughter,’ he said. ‘It seems she’s disobedient in the matter of binding her feet. Because she shames him, he feels compelled to shame us.’ Deng Nan-shi chuckled scornfully then went off to comfort Lady Lu Si.

  ‘We’re done for now!’ moaned Teng. ‘You heard what Yun Shu’s father said. They’ll slave us and ship us across the lake to the Salt Pans.’

  ‘I thought we were her xia,’ replied Hsiung.

  ‘She has put us all in danger! Can’t you see? Everyone hates us Dengs!’

  The panic and distress in Teng’s voice could not be ignored. ‘I don’t hate you,’ said Hsiung, ‘and neither does Yun Shu.’ He struggled to think of another, and then his face brightened. ‘Neither does Lady Lu Si! So that’s three people!’

  They sat at the foot of the Hundred Stairs, afraid to venture further in case Gui extended his search to the bamboo groves.

  ‘I shall visit her at dusk with water and food,’ said Hsiung. ‘You can come, too.’

  Teng’s eyes flickered. ‘Oh, I’ll come,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll come.’

  The sun crawled from east to west. For reasons neither could explain the boys kept within each other’s sight. Teng even helped to prepare the family dinner of millet and steamed greens. As was his custom, Deng Nan-shi ate in solitude and contemplative silence. Lady Lu Si had recovered sufficiently to dine behind a painted screen, lest she make an indecorous noise with her chopsticks. All the while crickets chirruped excitedly and dusk drained the passing day.

  The boys stole to their secret hole in the garden wall. Glancing back, Hsiung saw the faint glimmer of his master’s lamp in the library as he sifted through the family archives.

  ‘Have you filled the water gourd?’

  Teng nodded.

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  They crept up a steep path running parallel to the Hundred Stairs. It was gloomy in the bamboo groves at this hour. Even the monkeys had fallen silent. A deep, ancient calm lay across the Hill, but as they approached the watchtower both boys halted, straining to hear.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Teng.

  Cries for help were drifting from the direction of the cliff. Hsiung surged forward, leaping through the twilight, slashing aside plants with his bamboo sword. Nearer the watchtower they heard the snarl and growl of a wild animal. Unmistakeable now, Yun Shu’s cries for help. She sounded desperate, as though she had been calling in vain for a long time. Birds circled, disturbed from their roosts. Further down the hill a troupe of apes began to shriek.

  Hsiung sensed what was happening within the ruined walls – walls that no longer protected but trapped. There had been signs: scraped earth, fox scents, gnawed bones …

  He hesitated, looked for Teng. The scholar’s son hung back fearfully. Easy to melt into the shadowy groves, join his friend and run back down the hill. Then Yun Shu screamed out Teng’s name and Hsiung’s own. The snarling animal answered furiously, yapping and growling.

  The boy gripped his bamboo sword with both hands and dived into the crawl-way through the bushes. A moment later he was on the other side of the ruined wall. There could be no retreat.

  The fading light confirmed his guess. A nest in the earth was occupied by yelping puppies; and standing over them, a frightened mother, a large red wild dog, leaping up at the ruined staircase where Yun Shu cowered, just beyond the reach of its snapping, yellow fangs.

  For a long moment boy and dog surveyed one another. Hsiung saw the mother would never abandon her pups or allow Yun Shu to leave without a savage attack. They were trapped. Just as the people had been trapped in this stone square when the Mongols came.

  ‘Aiee!’ he bellowed, leaping at the wild dog, bamboo sword raised above his head.

  Perhaps the creature did not expect so sudden an attack from so small a human. It shrank back. Bamboo smashed onto its skull. At once it rolled away, twisting to leap at the boy.

  ‘Hsiung!’ wailed Yun Shu from above.

  He did not hear. The creature had fixed its jaws round his calf, worrying, biting. In fury he stabbed down with the end of the bamboo onto the top of its head. Again, again. Abruptly the slavering jaws, foaming pink with his blood, loosened. The wild dog’s head fell back. Hsiung wobbled and almost collapsed. Blood was trickling from his leg.

  He lurched back onto a pile of masonry, still gripping the bamboo sword. Glancing round, he realised Teng and Yun Shu were on either side of him. As adrenalin l
eft his body waves of pain followed. The girl wept hysterically, telling a story he could barely comprehend, ‘When I came here this morning I found the puppies! I tried to warn you but you’d gone. Then the mother returned from hunting. For a long time she wouldn’t enter. Then she grew desperate to feed her puppies. That’s how …’

  Ignoring her, he turned in wonder to Teng. ‘I killed it!’ he whispered. A deep exultation opened in Hsiung’s soul like a clenched fist unflexing strong fingers. A hand discovering its force, power. ‘I killed it!’

  Teng splashed Hsiung’s leg with water from the gourd. A bandage torn from Yun Shu’s spare clothes staunched the wound. Once the bleeding had slowed, Teng put an arm round his friend’s shoulders.

  ‘Yun Shu,’ he said, ‘see what trouble you have caused! Go home! And do not mention our names.’

  The two boys watched her. She was kneeling by the dead mother and the mewling pups.

  ‘Did you not hear me?’ demanded Teng.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, tears still wet on her cheeks.

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  Hsiung had never seen Teng so angry. It made him want to laugh in a dizzy, exulted way.

  ‘All you think about is yourself!’ cried Teng. ‘Do you intend to live here forever? Where will your food come from?’

  Yun Shu sat back on her heels, one hand resting on the dead dog’s warm body. ‘There must be a reason.’

  Teng examined her in disgust. ‘You’re mad! Go back to your father. He scares me! Just make sure he leaves us in peace.’

  ‘There must be a reason, Teng,’ she repeated, tears welling again. ‘It is fate! It is the Dao!’

  At that word of power they became aware the wind was rising. Bamboo groves swayed and muttered. Sighs like mournful ghosts swept the cliffs.

  ‘It is the Dao,’ she repeated. ‘Can’t you hear it?’

  Teng stepped back, alarmed by the restless wind.

  ‘You are mad and selfish,’ he declared. ‘I found this place, not you! I forbid you to live here and I am no longer your xia.’ He turned to Hsiung. ‘Let’s get home before they catch us. We must hurry.’

  In the shock of his injury and triumphant pride, Hsiung felt no desire to argue. Leaving Yun Shu bent over the wild dog’s corpse, they struggled into the thickening darkness. Hsiung’s blood-stained bamboo sword turned from weapon to crutch. He leaned on Teng’s shoulder for the slow, painful walk home. Half way down the Hill it was necessary to hide. A dozen men with burning torches were climbing the Hundred Stairs, prodding the undergrowth with spears, calling out Yun Shu’s name.

  Three

  The pups whined and crawled around the dark interior of the tower as Yun Shu knelt beside the dead mother. Warmth left its body. All she could do was wait until morning.

  Yun Shu took a deep drink from the gourd-bottle: the water tasted earthy. Hsiung had also bought some steamed buns which she ate hungrily. Then she froze. Voices out in the bamboo groves, calling and whistling to the rhythm of sticks threshing the undergrowth. She winced her way to the crawl-way and peered out through leafy branches. Lights in the wood, flickering red demon eyes moving methodically towards her. Yun Shu pulled the concealing foliage tight and wiggled back, stifling a cry when she stubbed a tender, bruised toe.

  In the dark ruin she felt the panic of all trapped creatures. Was it best to flee before they reached the tower? Or remain hidden? Her feet were too damaged for a swift escape.

  Yun Shu gingerly ascended the round stairway and crawled into a corner. Too late she realised the water-gourd and pile of clothes remained in full view: anyone peering into the tower would spy them immediately. By now voices surrounded her; she even picked out words.

  ‘Here’s the cliff. If she’s gone further she has wings.’

  ‘Hey, P’ao! What’s that hole?’

  Yun Shu tried to merge with stone.

  ‘Some animal’s been digging,’ came the reply.

  ‘What about this tower? Perhaps the little bitch is in there listening.’

  ‘Hush! Master might hear.’

  ‘How? He’s dining at Jebe Khoja’s while we search for his precious daughter. That’s how much he cares about her.’

  ‘I’ve heard Jebe Khoja likes to invite Golden Lotus to dinner along with Master.’

  ‘Ha! Ha! You’re bad!’

  ‘Who’s this Jebe Khoja?’ asked a new voice with a strange accent.

  ‘Only Prince Arslan’s favourite nephew. And Deputy Governor of the Province. You can be sure Master will rise alongside him.’

  ‘I didn’t agree to this kind of work,’ said the new voice, crossly. ‘What kind of man can’t protect his own daughter?’

  ‘It’s not his fault she was taken by rebels.’

  ‘If she was taken. Maybe she ran away. The maids say she isn’t afraid of anything and disappears for hours at a time. I’ve heard she even reads her father’s books when he’s not around.’

  ‘What about this tower?’

  Their torches flickered beyond the walls and she sensed them staring up at the ruins.

  ‘Nothing here,’ called P’ao. ‘Let’s tell Master.’

  ‘Not yet,’ suggested another. ‘Wait for a while on the Hundred Stairs. That way it looks like we searched longer.’

  So saying, they left. Yun Shu listened until their noise faded into the sounds of a wood at night.

  The puppies had instinctively gone silent at the sound of human voices. Now, in their hunger, they mewled once more. Yun Shu descended to the lowest step and arranged her spare clothes as bedding.

  What use was it to stay here? Teng was right, sooner or later she would be forced home. The longer she hid, the deeper her disgrace and Father’s anger. Yet as Yun Shu hugged herself on the step, gazing up at the clear night sky, she thought of Immortals floating through patterns of stars. Then she remembered another occasion she had slept out beneath stars, in an open river junk bound for Hou-ming and Father’s wonderful new appointment as Salt Minister. She’d been just four. Her mother was already thin and pale with the nameless disease that killed her not long after Golden Lotus became Father’s concubine.

  Yun Shu stared up at the constellations, longing to hop across them like stepping stones. She had read in Father’s books that invisible threads connect night to day, river to land, moon to stars, earth to water. For the first time she understood properly. The Eternal Dao joined all things.

  This odd thought comforted her until she fell asleep.

  Doves were perching on the tower’s jagged walls when Yun Shu woke. She stretched and winced. Yet her feet no longer felt aflame. Though purple and blue, they were already mending. She massaged her toes in the dull light of an overcast morning. The pale sun was higher than she had expected. In her exhaustion she had slept late. Yun Shu heard boots tramping in her direction.

  ‘Is this the place, boy?’

  Sergeant P’ao’s voice! Yun Shu ducked fearfully before accepting the futility of further concealment. No, she would not be found cowering or dragged out. Instead she crawled out into the sunlight and tottered upright.

  At that moment Salt Minister Gui turned the corner of the tower, carried in a sedan chair by two sweating porters. Behind him, escorted like criminals by Father’s soldiers, came Teng and Hsiung. Last of all, the hunchbacked scholar, Deng Nan-shi.

  Yun Shu tried to find Teng’s eye but he evaded her. She became aware Father was gripping his abacus with white knuckles.

  ‘Cover your feet!’

  She struggled to her knees and bowed, trembling.

  ‘Is this where you hid her?’ he demanded, turning to Hsiung.

  Hsiung said nothing, his face blank.

  ‘Sergeant P’ao, if he does not answer, hit him!’ commanded the Minister of Salt.

  ‘Your Excellency,’ broke in Deng Nan-shi, ‘my son has already explained. A stupid child’s game, that is all! They could not imagine the upset they were causing.’

  ‘A g-game?’ snorted Gui. ‘Then I hold you
responsible.’

  Hopping from foot to foot, Teng cried, ‘Father didn’t know! It’s our servant’s fault. I warned Hsiung … Oh, he never listens to me! But I found the tower and showed it to her. I should take the punishment, not Father!’

  Gui’s glassy, slightly bulging eyes flicked from child to child, one defiant, the other tearful. He turned to Sergeant P’ao. ‘Search the tower, as you should have done yesterday.’

  No one spoke until he returned. In his arms were diverse things: Yun Shu’s clothes, the empty gourd and the mother dhole’s corpse. A second soldier retrieved the puppies, blinking and wriggling.

  ‘Otherwise, Master,’ said P’ao, ‘there’s only old bones.’

  Gui turned back to his daughter. For the first time wariness softened the anger in his voice. ‘Is this where you chose to spend the night? In a charnel house? With a wild dog? It’s b-big enough to be a fox fairy!’

  She was too afraid to reply.

  ‘How did the creature die?’ he asked, fingering a protective amulet attached to his silken girdle. ‘P’ao, how do you think it died? Was it through magic?’

  The soldier bent over the corpse.

  ‘Skull crushed inwards, Your Honour,’ he said. Then Sergeant P’ao turned to Hsiung. ‘Boy, is that how your leg got injured? Fighting this wild dog?’

  Hsiung would not answer. He met the sergeant’s eye then looked away in contempt. P’ao bent forward and whispered: ‘Better to answer Master’s questions, son.’

  ‘Honoured Excellency!’ cried Teng. ‘Our servant saved your daughter! He fought the wild dog when it was attacking her and killed it. Hsiung saved her life! I was too afraid. But not him!’

  The bodyguards murmured their approval at the boy’s courage. Sergeant P’ao went so far as to slap his back.

  ‘Is this true?’ demanded Gui, turning to his daughter.

  She nodded. ‘It was scared for its pups, Father! Hsiung arrived and …’

  ‘Enough!’

  The Minister of Salt turned to the silent boy. He raised his abacus and rattled the beads. ‘Lucky for you the accounts b-balance. Therefore, you shall not be punished.’