Everything Under the Sky (48 page)

All of us but Lao Jiang picked up what we liked along the way and put it in our bags. The antiquarian said that these were just trinkets and that the real treasure was in the emperor's true funeral palace. Still, it took us quite a while to get through the gardens before we came upon the largest building any of us had ever seen: a huge pavilion with red walls and several tiered black roofs as well as numerous staircases rising up from the middle of another esplanade that stretched as far as the eye could see. The pillars there burned incessantly, reflecting brightly off the giant bronze statues of warriors guarding the approach, the shiny floor, and an incredible ceiling studded with colossal heavenly constellations that sparkled with every imaginable color. Up above, the figure of a magnificent red crow that could only have been made of rubies or agates was visible in the south; a black tortoise fashioned out of opals or quartzes was to the north; to the west was a white jade tiger; to the east was an amazingly beautiful green dragon undoubtedly made of turquoises or emeralds; and in the center, above the gigantic front hall of the underground palace of Epang, was an exquisite yellow snake fashioned from topazes.

Such beauty and such excess! We were spellbound, staring at the image that lay before our astonished eyes, as if it were some fantastical place that couldn't be real. But it was, it was real, and we were there to see it.

“I believe we have a problem,” I thought I heard Master Red say.

“What's wrong now?” Lao Jiang asked, his voice also sounding unreal.

“We can't get there,” Master Red replied. I had to tear my eyes off that amazing ceiling to look at him and saw he was pointing toward the set of stairs in the middle of that enormous front hall. A wide river of mercury some fifteen feet across encircled that never-ending esplanade like a medieval moat, cutting off access.

“Isn't there a bridge anywhere?” I asked unnecessarily, because I could see there wasn't.

“ ‘And on the sixth, the Original Dragon's true burial place, you will have to cross a wide river of mercury to reach the treasures,’ “Lao Jiang recited from memory. “How could we have forgotten?” he moaned.

“Why don't we use those iron boats we saw near the pavilions in the garden?” Fernanda proposed.

“They weigh too much,” Master Red replied, shaking his head. “We wouldn't even be able to carry one between the five of us. Besides, we'd have to break so many of those lovely clay trees to get them here.”

“But there's no other way,” Lao Jiang objected angrily. Flushed and sweating, he was running out of patience.

“Let's use the trees,” I said without thinking. “We could cut—I mean, we could break some off at the bottom and use that line of yours to make a raft.”

“No, we'll not use my line,” he refused, slicing his hand categorically through the air.

“Why not?” I asked, confused.

“We might need it on the way out.”

“That's not true!” I retorted. “All six levels are open. The hardest part will be climbing those bridges and getting through the methane. We're not going to need your line for anything.”

“Just a moment,” Master Red interrupted. “Please don't argue. If Da Teh doesn't want to ruin his line in the quicksilver, we won't use it. I have another idea. Remember the steel fish we saw floating in that stream?”

We all nodded.

“Well, why don't we try to swim across?”

“Swim in mercury?” I asked in disbelief.

“It's a very dense liquid, Master Red Jade,” Lao Jiang objected. “I don't think that's possible. We'll tire out before we get halfway across, if we get that far.”

“You're right,” the monk admitted, “but the fish floated, so we will, too. If we use poles to propel ourselves, we could easily get to the other side.”

“And where do we get poles?” I asked.

“The bamboo in the garden!” Fernanda exclaimed. “We can use that to push ourselves. We'll be like gondoliers in Venice!”

Master Red and Biao looked at her blankly. Gondoliers in Venice must have been as incomprehensible to them as
tianlu
s were to us.

Any silliness aside, I wasn't the least bit sure about us going into the mercury. After all, immersing yourself in a metal seemed a little dangerous, not to mention how incredibly cold it was. What if we accidentally swallowed some and poisoned ourselves? I knew that mercury was an ingredient in many medicines, especially purgatives, deworming treatments, and some antiseptics,
⁵⁰
but I was afraid it might be harmful in amounts higher than those prescribed by doctors.

The children were already running toward the garden in search of clay bamboo. Though he hadn't complained about the foot he'd hurt when he fell into the Han shaft, Biao was limping some. He didn't seem to be in serious pain, however. I heard a loud knock, and then it sounded as if an earthenware pot had hit the ground.

“Get it, Biao!” my niece shouted.

Master Red, Lao Jiang, and I went to get our own poles. Master Red Jade picked up a crane with a long beak and used it to chop at the bamboo. Soon enough we all looked like penitent Nazarenes keeping time with the shafts of their tall candles. We were ready to wade into that river of quicksilver.

Lao Jiang went first, after he'd tested the depth of the river. It was only about six feet and therefore perfect for pushing himself along. He smiled happily as soon as he was in.

“I'm floating just fine,” he said, and, digging one end of his bamboo into the riverbed, began to propel himself toward the other bank.

“Fernanda, Biao,” I called. “Come here. I want you to promise me you'll keep your mouths closed when you're in the mercury and not put your heads in under any circumstances. Do you hear me?”

“I can't dive?” whined Biao, who had evidently already been planning to.

“No, Biao, you cannot dive, you cannot take a drink of that quicksilver, you cannot get your face wet, and, if at all possible, don't put your hands in either.”

“But that's ridiculous, Auntie!”

“No it's not. Mercury is a metal, and it could be toxic. I don't want to hear any arguments. Is that clear?”

They nodded unhappily. No doubt they'd been picturing many exciting tricks and experiments in the mercury.

Lao Jiang had already reached the other side and, after struggling to get the pole out of the moat and set it on the ground without breaking it, tried to haul himself out by pushing down on his hands. Although his clothes looked dry, they must have been soaked with mercury and made it hard for him to move. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he managed to get one leg up on the bank and crawl out. Puffing, he shook himself off like a poodle, creating a cloud of quicksilver that fell onto the ground.

“Throw me my bag, Master Red Jade,” he called out, and my stomach knotted. Yes, I'd been told that dynamite was the safest thing in the world, but hearing it didn't mean I believed it. The bag of explosives flew through the air, clean across the river thanks to Master Red's strength.

“Your turn, madame.”

“I'd rather the children crossed first.”

Fernanda and Biao didn't hesitate. I watched them like a hawk the whole way, but apart from a little messing around and laughing, they obeyed my orders to a tee, and I was able to breathe freely once I saw them safe and sound beside Lao Jiang. I prepared to head in while Master Red threw the children's bags.

At first the icy mercury took my breath away, but then it was rather nice to float along, bobbing in the thick liquid without having to move arms or legs. All you had to do was push the bamboo against the bottom, and inertia moved you in the desired direction as if you were a Venetian gondola. I now understood the children's silly laughter, because it was really quite a lot of fun.

Soon I was on the other side, where Lao Jiang and Biao had to help me out; my clothes did indeed weigh as much as if they were made of lead. Master Red threw my bag over and then his own before wading in. I turned to examine the amazing esplanade with its bronze giants. There were twelve in total, six on either side of the main avenue, and each one must have been over thirty feet high. They were all different and seemed to represent real human beings with fierce eyes and a martial stance. They were certainly imposing. If their objective was to terrify the First Emperor's visitors, they were successful.

We walked toward them along the avenue, intensely emotional and nervous now that we were so close to what was undeniably the First Emperor of China's true tomb. We reached the stairs and started to climb. Fortunately, there were only fifty, so no one fell behind, and before we knew it, we were standing in front of the open doors to the great front hall of Epang. The hair-raising sight that lay before us wasn't something we could ever have prepared for: millions of human skeletons scattered on the floor, countless piles stretching into the distance, bare bones heaped against walls with old bits of dresses, jewelry, or hair ornaments still visible. Women, there were so many women: the concubines who'd never given Shi Huang Ti children. The rest were the poor slave laborers who'd built that mausoleum. Sai Wu, our guide on that long journey, would be among the remains in that vast graveyard. A lump formed in my throat at the same time the terrified children drew close on either side of me. No one could look at that deplorable sight without feeling tremendously sorry or imagining the horrible deaths those thousands and thousands of people must have suffered to satisfy the megalomania of one man, a king who thought he was all-powerful. So many lives wasted for nothing, so much suffering and anguish just to punish the supposed infertility of young girls married to an old egomaniac and to keep that tomb a secret! I could understand Sai Wu's fury and desire for revenge. As admirable as the First Emperor's construction was, he had no right to take the lives of so many innocent people with him. I knew that it had been another time and that one shouldn't criticize the past from such a distant perspective, but even so, I thought it odious that one man could have had so much power over others.

“Come on,” Lao Jiang said firmly, lifting a foot to cross the threshold and setting it down among the human remains.

I don't remember a more horrific walk than the one that day through that sea of corpses; it was worse than the swarms of beetles. The children were terrified; they jumped or let out a choked cry whenever they inadvertently stepped on bones or when a little pile of remains tumbled down on their feet. The last ones alive had obviously piled up the bodies of those who had already died. I shuddered at the superstitious thought of all that pain impregnating the walls of this magnificent, solemn hall.

Finally, after an eternity, we reached a long red wall with a little doorway and two sliding doors.

“The funeral chamber?” Master Red asked.

“The outer sarcophagus,” Lao Jiang specified. “According to the customs of that time, an emperor's coffin was placed in a room surrounded by compartments containing his funeral possessions. These are the treasures we've been looking for.”

“Will it be locked?” I asked, trying to open the door. Not only did it open, but it disintegrated in my hands, scaring me half to death. Another red wall was in front, with a narrow hallway to walk along, but there was no light in here. It was pitch black, and so Lao Jiang had to ignite his torch again. He went in first, and the rest of us followed. Although the passageway was very long, as soon as we turned the first corner, we saw the entrance to one of the compartments Lao Jiang had mentioned.

The light from the torch didn't properly illuminate all the fabulous riches piled in that huge room the size of a warehouse: thousands of chests overflowing with gold pieces that littered the floor, along with hundreds of elegant outfits embroidered in gold and silver and covered in precious stones. There were also countless beautiful cases containing spices and medicinal herbs, stunning jade objects of all shapes and kinds, and long, ornately decorated cylinders that contained marvelous maps of Everything Under the Sky painted on exquisite, delicate silk. The next compartment seemed to be devoted to the art of war. All the pieces—there must have been fifteen or twenty thousand—were made of pure gold: Swords, shields, lances, crossbows, arrows, and a variety of completely unknown weapons seemed to stand guard around an enormous case in the middle. It was also made of gold, decorated with silver and bronze spiraling clouds, lightning, tigers, and dragons, and it held the First Emperor's incredible armor, identical to the set we had seen upstairs, but this time the little plates joined together like fish scales were made of gold. Each piece was trimmed in precious stones, separating one from another: the breastplate from the back, these from the skirt, the arm pieces from the shoulder guards, and the throat piece from the neck guard. It was made for an average-size man, and only the helmet indicated that he'd had a very large head. Judging from that armor, the First Emperor must have been very strong. Wearing that suit—which surely weighed at least forty-five or fifty pounds—during an entire battle was a feat in itself.

It goes without saying that we didn't take anything from that compartment, because all the objects were too big to fit into our already full bags. The third wasn't terribly appropriate for plundering either. It was an absolute wonder, housing millions of everyday items such as ladles, incense holders, bronze mirrors, buckets, trowels, vases, knives, measuring cups, bowls, stoves—some even with an outlet for the smoke—bottles of essences for the bath, water heaters, ceramic toilets for the dead to use in the afterlife, and more. According to Lao Jiang, any one of those objects would fetch an astronomical price on the antiquities market. Oddly enough, he didn't take a thing. Actually, he hadn't put a single thing from the other compartments in his bag either. Once I realized this, I again felt that strange sense of unease, morbid and absurd. I forced it out of my mind, because I didn't want to drive myself crazy with outrageous suspicions. The fourth compartment was dedicated to literature and music. Countless huge chests, the size of houses, held thousands and thousands of valuable
jiance
s; delicate animal-hair brushes of varying sizes, only slightly the worse for wear, hung on the walls next to bars of red and black ink stamped with the imperial seal; and there were beautiful jade stands, exquisite jars for the water, and, on a long, low table, small knives with curved blades that Lao Jiang said were used to smooth the bamboo or erase poorly written characters. Huge quantities of whetstones, bamboo slats, and sheets of silk sat waiting to be used. The variety of musical instruments was endless: long zithers, flutes, drums, a small Bian Zhong, syrinxes, strange lutes, upright violins, a lithophone, and gongs. In short, there was a full orchestra to make a powerful dead man's eternity more enjoyable.