Breaking Bamboo (59 page)

On Peacock Hill musicians played flutes and the
pi-pa
, while drums, gongs and cymbals kept time. The great banqueting hall, formerly reserved for the Twin Cities’ notables, had been filled with tables and stools – so many that the Mongols were outnumbered by pieces of furniture. At first they sat down suspiciously. Then, after hoarded wine had been served and the earnestness of their welcome became apparent, hands crept away from sword-hilts to clasp delicate bowls.

Guang watched from the side while the feast advanced.

Either he had been forgotten or his arrest would follow later.

Perhaps he should flee while he could, sidle to the door, find a horse, ride into the city; there were places to hide, loyalists to offer shelter. But he knew the first place they would search was Apricot Corner Court.

He glanced up at the high table where Wang Bai and Wang Ting-bo sat beside the Mongol general. A-ku was around Guang’s age but appeared older, a squat, swarthy man, his skin tanned by fierce steppe winds. The painting of the Great Khan had been propped behind A-ku’s chair like the image of a god.

After eating and commenting on each dish through an interpreter, General A-ku spoke to Wang Ting-bo; the former Pacification Commissioner bowed solemnly and scanned the great hall until he located Guang, who was leaning against a frieze depicting noble ancestors at a moon-gazing party. Wang Ting-bo waved him over to the high table, a stern expression on his face. Clearly no support could be expected from that quarter.

Commander Yun Guang bowed low before the assembled notables then drew himself to his full height. A-ku would want a swift revenge for the indignities Captain Xiao had visited on him, yet Guang suspected he might wait until the Mongol army had taken full possession of the city before ordering executions.

All that mattered to Guang was fulfilling his plan – or desperate hope – to save Apricot Corner Court.

Silence spread from the nearby tables as Mongol commanders who had lost hundreds to Captain Xiao’s artillery examined their enemy curiously. At last General A-ku spoke through an interpreter.

‘I swore that I would behead you after we captured this city,’ said A-ku. ‘You killed two of my cousins through your catapults. Both were dear companions of my childhood.’

Guang looked up expectantly. When his chance came he must seize it, nothing more was left to him.

‘But I promised Wang Ting-bo that the entire city would be spared,’ said A-ku through his interpreter. ‘Are you part of the city? Does one oath cancel out another?’

The great hall waited in silence.

‘Wise general,’ said Guang. ‘My family are part of the city.

By the terms of your oath every one of them must be spared. As an honourable man I hold you to that. As for me, I do not care what happens, so long as you fulfil your oath to spare the city and therefore my family, I ask no more.’

When the interpreter had translated these words, General A-ku guffawed and his officers followed suit.

‘Your request is granted, your family will be spared. As for you, why should I break my previous oath?’

Guang’s heart raced. His mind moved slowly. He could think of no good reason.

‘Glorious General!’ broke in a smooth voice. It was Wang Bai speaking through the interpreter and A-ku glanced at him in surprise. ‘Your Excellency,’ continued Wang Bai. ‘Forgive my interruption, but if Yun Guang submitted to the Great Khan he would no longer be your opponent. In a sense, he would have died and been reborn. Then Your Excellency might choose to forget your oath.’

The courage of such an outburst did not escape Guang – or Wang Ting-bo, who motioned anxiously to his nephew that he should be silent.

General A-ku took a moment to consider Wang Bai’s meaning. He drank more wine and summoned the portrait of Khubilai Khan. Deftly the servants held it up. Guang stared at the portly figure in the painting. The Khan of all the Mongols and a hundred nations possessed a strong nose and narrow eyes; his ears were large, denoting great character. He looked no different from any foreign merchant one might meet in the market: a fat, plausible merchant. Guang slowly lowered himself to his knees and bent forward, pressing his forehead against the polished wooden floor. Three times he abased himself, as was customary, then he awaited General A-ku’s verdict.

Two muscular hands came together. A loud clap echoed round the room. Guang glanced up to find the general looking down at him and speaking to the interpreter in their ugly tongue: ‘My enemy Yun Guang has passed away,’ said the interpreter. ‘The glorious A-ku need not pursue his oath, for it is already fulfilled.’

Then one of the Mongol officers rose, knocking aside his wine bowl. He glared with red-rimmed eyes across the room at the accused. For a moment Guang did not recognise him. When he did, his hand reached for a sword he was no longer allowed to carry. Khan Bayke spoke and the interpreter continued to translate: ‘General!’ called out the man, in a harsh voice. ‘You might be able to renounce your oath with honour but I cannot forget mine. I demand justice! I demand the head of the man who murdered my eldest son.’

Silence in the hall. Guang did not take his eyes from Khan Bayke’s face. He had often dreamt of meeting him, but never like this. Always it had been in battle, an equal fight between two fully armed men to decide two families’ honour.

Sometimes, in his dreams, Bayke’s head had been severed from its neck with a single blow, sometimes it had been his own.

Then Guang’s dream would assume the garish intensity of nightmare – Bayke’s men sacking Apricot Corner Court, dragging out Cao and Shih, dispatching Lord Yun after he had abased himself shamelessly; and, finally, as one saves the tastiest morsel for last, Lu Ying. Those had been the shadows of fear. Now he faced a man of bone and sinew quite prepared to make them real.

‘General A-ku is wise,’ continued Bayke. ‘But I appeal to the
yasa
. This man has robbed me. Everyone knows how my son was taken from me.’

Many of the officers murmured their agreement, yet more were silent, showing neither approval nor disapproval. Among this last group was General A-ku. He glanced over at Guang then addressed his followers: ‘The
yasa
states that the injured party must lead the captured one to justice at once or there can be no punishment. Bayke’s son was taken from him years ago.’

The interpreter’s voice grew excited as he translated Bayke’s reply for the benefit of Wang Ting-bo and the accused.

‘But it was no fair fight between warriors, Wise General! He killed my son while he was naked and sporting with his whore.’

Now A-ku’s cold eyes fixed on Guang.

‘Is this true?’

‘I interrupted his pleasure, Great General,’ he said. ‘Then he went for me. I had no choice but to kill him.’ Another recollection of those terrible moments outside his ancestors’ tomb came to him. ‘General, two armed servants of Khan Bayke immediately attacked me after Bayke’s son was dead.

One I killed, but the other I blinded and allowed to live. Had I been intent on murdering all that belonged to Bayke, surely I would have killed the blind one, too?’

His argument provoked further muttering amongst the officers. It was the kind of nicety the more learned among them enjoyed. Khan Bayke flushed.

‘How these swamp people can talk!’ he declared, contemptuously. ‘If they could fight half as well, their Empire would be secure! But Great A-ku, I have more to say. Has not the Great Khan himself decreed that the Chinese are to be ranked as the very lowest of creatures known as men? Why then is the law used to protect this one?’

Those Mongol officers sympathetic to Bayke banged the table, cracking delicate porcelain bowls. Even A-ku hesitated, examining Guang’s face for marks of guilt.

Then all heads turned as a calm, refined voice addressed the interpreter: Wang Bai again, his expression thoughtful.

‘Commander Yun Guang is a difficult case!’ he declared.

‘The people in the city call him Captain Xiao on account of his filial piety. His orders led to the death of hundreds of the Great Khan’s servants.’ Wang Bai gestured expressively. ‘All in honest battle.’

Now he had the full attention of the room; Bayke seemed about to shout him down until A-ku glared for silence.

‘Every father of the thousands he caused to die are just like Khan Bayke,’ continued Wang Bai. ‘They, too, want revenge!’

Guang listened as the interpreter relayed this speech. All that mattered to him was that A-ku kept his promise and spared Apricot Corner Court. The Mongol general, however, was regarding Wang Bai with genuine respect, not because of his arguments, but because he had the courage to state them.

‘Your point?’ he asked. ‘Be brief.’

‘My point, Mighty General,’ said Wang Bai, ‘is this. If Yun Guang is to be judged a murderer, let him be killed. But the effect on every Chinese who hears about his fate will be immeasurable. They will see only that Captain Xiao was promised his life if he surrendered – then he was executed.

After that, who will dare to surrender to the Great Khan? One might as well die fighting.’

A-ku sat back in his chair. He waved for more wine and drank it slowly. No one spoke. At last his bowl was drained and he set it on the lacquered table with a light rap. His eyes sought out Khan Bayke.

‘I understand your desire for vengeance, that you cannot feel complete without it, but these are new times, complicated times. This is my final judgement concerning Yun Guang, who has already taken up too much of my attention. All his former crimes are to be forgotten, as are those of the other soldiers who fought gallantly against us and surrendered willingly today.’

One by one the assembled commanders saw the prudence of such clemency and grunted their approval. How else could the Great Khan conquer this vast land, teeming with people and cities?

Guang’s expression showed no trace of triumph; he had been spared death to endure a lifetime of dishonour and defeat.

Meanwhile Wang Bai gestured impatiently that he should withdraw and the feast resumed, the Mongols talking loudly among themselves. Bayke and two of his sons left soon after A-ku’s judgement, their boots echoing on the wooden floor.

Scents of roasting meat filled the air as laden platters were carried in by a procession of servants. Where Wang Ting-bo had found such delicacies, Guang could not imagine. The aroma made his mouth water and, having been spared death, his appetite returned.

One of the Mongol officers rose and ceremoniously invited him to join his companions. It was hard to refuse without causing offence, so he shared the meat put before them and drank the wine. No one at the table spoke Chinese. Wine brought the illusion of good cheer and fellowship as the Mongol officers emptied bowl after bowl.

An hour passed in this way. Although Guang longed to return to Apricot Corner Court and tell Lu Ying of their deliverance he was too ashamed. So he drank and joked, mis-pronouncing the Mongol word for
wine
to the great amusement of his new companions.

By now Chen Song would be looking back at the distant ramparts of Nancheng from beyond the siege lines, his honour intact. Waves of exhaustion and disgrace swept Guang’s soul.

How could he face Shih or Cao or Lu Ying with any semblance of pride? General A-ku was right, Commander Yun Guang had passed away, Captain Xiao had passed away, leaving a wretch who grinned and shared wine with those who put the people of Fouzhou to death – man, woman, child, regardless of age or innocence. It was a long, long feast for Guang.

*

Twilight was approaching when Guang finally entered Water Basin Ward, escorted through the curfew by a detachment of Mongols led by the drunken officer who had befriended him.

He could not return to his old pavilion on Peacock Hill because it had already been seized by one of A-ku’s commanders.

Before he left the banqueting hall, Wang Bai had sent for him and whispered that he would receive a worthy commission as soon as the Mongols advanced east. In the meantime, he should keep out of sight in Apricot Corner Court. Wang Bai waved impatiently when Guang tried to thank him for speaking on his behalf. ‘Be cautious,’ he said. ‘For the sake of your family, if no one else. All we need do is keep them pacified until they leave.’

Guang parted with his escort some way from Apricot Corner Court. He did not want them to know where his family lived, though that was no secret in the city.

Glancing round, he patted his horse, amazed he had been allowed to keep it when they stripped his armour and weapons.

There had been few signs of looting on the ride to Water Basin Ward and none of massacre apart from the self-inflicted kind.

An eerie silence shrouded the city. He passed shuttered windows, aware their occupants were cowering inside, speaking only through whispers in case they attracted the attention of Mongol patrols fanning out across Nancheng.

Guang sensed Lu Ying was waiting for him, also afraid.

What he might say to justify his defection was unclear. Perhaps it would be enough for her, for everyone, that Wang Ting-bo had led the capitulation. Perhaps he would suffer no loss of honour after all. Were they not merely reacting to circumstances, as a bird swoops to avoid a tree or mountain? He had done everything to preserve his family, even at the cost of his future peace. But Guang suspected the sacrifice would not be enough, would never be enough.

He was so absorbed in these thoughts that the clip-clop of hooves behind him remained unnoticed until quite close. Then Guang glanced back and comprehended the depth of his folly.

For although General A-ku could not be seen to condone Captain Xiao’s execution in public, he could let him perish in the streets without witnesses.

Khan Bayke was trotting towards him with three companions. Two were clearly his sons, the third an armed retainer.

Guang swung his leg over the saddle of his horse, intending to gallop away from his enemies. Every movement seemed agonisingly slow. His feet were in the stirrups, raised to spur the horse forwards. Simultaneously the horse dipped and quivered in shock. Two arrows had pierced it: one near the buttocks, the other in its neck. Guang saw the earth rush towards him as he was thrown and somehow found his footing, so that he stumbled away from the screaming animal. This saved his life.