Tales and Imaginings (6 page)

‘My treasure is buried up there. I must have it. Someday it will tell me who I am. You love me; are you to be my husband? Get it then. Hurry!’

‘Where I first saw you?’ asked So, already on horseback again.

‘There, among the roots of a great double-oak, under a flat stone. Ride!’

So thundered through the town and up the mountain-track. Beads of fire were already threaded along the lower edges of the woods. He drove his horse stumbling in the fading light up the steep rides. By the time he had found the pond he had bathed in, a scorching wind was rushing up the mountainside and bats of flame were flickering through the branches overhead. He dragged the
terrified
horse towards the twin trunks of the ancient tree, kicked over the stone that lay among its roots, and snatched up the twisted shape of metal underneath. Then fiery mouths opened all around
him; the horse was gone, he was running between bellowing
thunderclouds
, he was lost in the maze of this god-like calligraphy of flame, he was blown at last like a speck of soot out onto the precipices.

Below, the wind with shouts and blows forged great bars of light. The strangely worked piece of bronze lay in So’s hand.

It was nearly a month before the plains answered the mountain. Then day by day nine columns of dust grew up into the sky from below the horizon. In the warm evenings So and Springrice would sit on the roof of an ancient tower left half ruined when the great wall was torn away from it, and watch the slow blossoming of these nine gigantic flowers long after the sun had set.

The tribes began to arrive; first single horsemen who came
darting
out of the hazy distances to fling down their tribute, a wolf-pelt or an unusual pebble, and galloped away again without a backward glance; then families, small bands of marauders, shabby wandering villages with cats that looked like dogs and dogs that behaved like cats; finally vast encamped hordes, the unnumbered grassland
peoples
, the shepherd kingdoms coming like flood-tides to cast up such offerings that the masonry wall torn down was replaced by one of treasures. So and his labourers attacked this second wall as fiercely as they had the first; as his men dragged the tribute to the storehouses So tried to list it, but most of the objects were too unfamiliar and outlandish for him even to identify, and his records became a gabble of the nameless, the purposeless and the
indecipherable
. One curiosity, however, raised an echo in his memory. It was a bone, a shoulder-blade, scratched all over in the script of the Empire, which the nomad who brought it could not read. Through an interpreter So heard this man’s tale: he had gone out one
moonlit 
night to an old battle site to search for the silver links and
jewelled
clasps which it was said could sometimes be found there; while he was groping among the closed flowers for fingerbones bearing rings, he heard a little sound, and saw, not an arm’s length away, a tooth busily scratching columns of writing onto a flat bone. He held his breath and slowly reached out his cupped hand. The tooth was so absorbed in its task that he was able to grab it, but then it squeezed out between his fingers and jumped like a
grasshopper
into the undergrowth.

So took this inscribed bone out of his pocket on his way home that evening. The writing was so small and covered every surface so closely that it was difficult to make out where it began or ended. It told some confused tale of exiles’ journeys, a hidden message, a
girl-child
– and here a strange phrase caught So’s eye: ‘Love unites the keys to the lock that divides.’ He paused to ponder this, turning the bone in his hands and looking up to where a young and slender moon hung beside the dark outline of Springrice watching him from the top of their ruined tower. He saw her as a woman waiting for him, but when he ran up the stairs he found her a child again, who laughed and jumped to and fro across the great fissures in the stonework, who would not be caught, who vanished into the
shadows
and then leapt out on him like a cat, knocking the bone out of his hand. Then she came softly to him as he sat bewildered and troubled by regrets, over the chasm full of the sound of rushing water into which had vanished his letter from the other end of the world; she held his hand, and calmed him, and promised to marry him when she was older.

Although the flowing-in of tribute at last dwindled to a trickle of oddities brought by lame beggars and old madwomen, the great
horde did not depart. The Governor could not hide his disquiet from So, as night after night the plain was drunk with singing, and day by day the celebrations and games brought squadrons of
horsemen
galloping in circuits ever nearer the open valley mouth. The womenfolk of the nomads were absorbed again into the dusty
horizons
, leaving warriors. So and the Governor saw the inchoate sea of peoples crystallizing under their eyes into an army.

‘Is there some doubt troubling the minds of these humble folk as to the legitimacy of our Empire?’ said the Governor, as he and So watched one day what appeared to be the preparation of an onslaught. ‘There was some talk at the time of the accession of the present Emperor … Has some rumour crossed the deserts to
disturb
the confidence of these simple shepherds in our love, a love as fatherly as Time itself? Look there, a chariot bearing a throne is coming to the centre of their front; it seems the blades of grass own a leader! King Thistle mounts! An attack is imminent. I am going down to stand in the mouth of the valley before them as an
embodiment
of our ancient authority; that is the only wall that can prevail against the coming wind. Do not offer to accompany me, your appearance would not add to the impression I hope to produce. If I should fail, take your horse and cross the mountain to meet the approaching Court. Warn the Emperor, let him gather his armies; report the climax of my career of service. One personal request; take the girl; such a feather will wing your flight. Travel as brother and sister, for safety and seemliness. No, do not weep. Even if I fail, the Emperor will blow this chaff out of our granary. I give you my seal of office, and my blessing.’

So, with Springrice behind him, watched from the saddle as the old man walked out of the village and took up his position at the focus of the arc of hostility, straightened his bowed shoulders and gazed across the plains as if they were empty. The army was silent. The horsemen were stringing their bows at leisure, choosing arrows
with deliberation; a thousand men were calmly taking aim at the motionless figure before them. No signal was given, but the arrows flocked in one moment, and like a plume of smoke caught by a
sudden
wind, the Governor ceased to be.

So and the weeping girl were already riding up the ashes of the forest slopes when the army began to move into the village behind them. That night he cradled her in his arms on the edge of the snowfields, and heard wolves howling from the horizon to the stars. The next day they reached the first of many mountain villages, where the authority of the Governor’s seal procured them food, but nobody believed their story.

They journeyed on, and at last one evening, from the shelter of a flowering thorn, they could see the lights and hear the music of the Court encamped and feasting in the valley below. ‘Perhaps tomorrow you can stop being my brother,’ said Springrice. ‘Perhaps you will become my husband, and then you won’t love me any more because you will discover my defect.’

So laughed at the idea of her having a defect, but she wept and would not be comforted. ‘What is this terrible defect, my love?’ said So. ‘A mouse-bite? A moth-bite?’

‘I have never seen it properly,’ she whispered, crouched against him in the sweet evening breath of the flowers, ‘and of course nobody else has seen it since I was a baby. In the middle of my back there is
a
mark; it has grown as I grew.’

‘Let me look,’ said So. Springrice was very pale. Turning away from him, and undoing the clasp at her throat, she let the robe slip from her shoulders. The dark hair, the smooth skin, so snared and held separate the elements of night and day mingled around them that So felt his heart stop beating. Then she turned her head, and the soft web of darkness swung off her shoulders, revealing a pale twisted mark under the surface of her flesh like the vein in a flawed jewel.

‘What is it like?’ whispered Springrice. So’s voice had been taken away from him by the glow of her body; it was a moment before he could reply.

‘Like smoke, drowning.’

‘And what does it mean?’ she said, still more quietly.

‘What does it mean?’ repeated So, blank before her troubled eyes. ‘Does it mean something?’ He caught her in his arms and kissed her. ‘It’s the footmark of the legendary bird that carried you off as a baby and has now brought you to me, who will keep you forever!’

But So found out what it meant, that night, as they lay together in the moonlight. Springrice slept curled up like a child, clutching in her hand the curious bit of bronze So had rescued from the
blazing
forest; now he saw how like it was to the sign on her back. With the tip of his finger So parted her hair where it flowed over her shoulders; the mark glowed in the shadow with a pulsing, cloudy light. He leaned across her and gently disengaged her fingers from the bronze key – he remembered the phrase from the bone – and held it where the moon turned its edge into a tiny frozen lightning flash. The two shapes were different in detail, but they were the same size, the length of So’s hand from top to bottom. He put them side by side; together they formed a column of script. It was as if a hand came out of the night to tear So’s hopes from his heart.
Written
in the darkness was the fact that Springrice was the daughter of an Emperor.

At dawn, So led his lost love down the mountainside to the royal camp. Springrice was troubled by his confused bearing, now that of a lover at parting, now that of a servant so humble as to be nearly invisible, but she could not persuade him to tell her what was wrong. As they entered the broad way between the gay pavilions of the Court, a gong began to throb so slowly that after every stroke they thought it had stopped. The sound seemed to spread ripples
of anxiety across the sleep of the camp; guards became alert at the doors of tents, servants appeared running with the furs and
footgear
of their masters. The sudden uproar flowed towards the
grandest
pavilion of all, over which hung the banner of the Emperor. Here So showed the Governor’s seal to the captain of the guard, who ushered them into an antechamber where several high officials were conferring in agitated whispers as robes were flung about their shoulders and their jewelled belts were fastened by crowding
servants
. One courtier came forward with a distracted look, listened to So’s story of the barbarian invasion in silence, and then disappeared into an inner room. A minute later he reappeared and beckoned to So. Leaving Springrice he followed the official, and found himself facing a brilliant figure whom he supposed at first to be the Emperor; but when So prostrated himself, this personage dragged him to his feet with an almost hysterical shriek: ‘This is
no time for ceremonies, when fate brings you and your news of invasions on this particular morning! The Emperor is dead! Do you understand? The Emperor died in his bed after last night’s feasting; the fact has just been discovered – and you come now to warn of rebellion!’

‘Then his successor must be begged to muster the armies of the Empire,’ cried So.

‘His successor? There is no successor named. The Emperor died childless. Now can be said what many have always known; he was an usurper, and from that flaw in the chain of succession comes the imminent collapse of our Empire. The son and baby daughter of his murdered predecessor were smuggled away into exile, and
contrary
to our hopes and plans never returned. Thus there is no true descendant of our first Father to defend us now.’

‘That daughter is
miraculously returned from the outer lands!’ said So. ‘She is in the antechamber now.’ And he told the story of the inscription in flesh and bronze. At that moment Springrice parted the curtains that hung at the door, and peeped in. The
chamberlain sprang up, staring at her. ‘The likeness to her mother is extraordinary,’ he whispered to So. ‘And who, sir, may you be, who travels with such a companion?’

‘He is my brother,’ cried Springrice, running to his side.

A look of utter disbelief spread across the chamberlain’s face, was checked, and replaced by one of frantic calculation. Then he flung himself to the ground before So, and crept backwards out of his presence.

The new Emperor was enrobed that same day, with what
magnificence
could be mustered, and in accordance with ancient tradition was married to his sister Empress immediately. That evening he took leave of his bride and set out through the provinces to raise the Imperial forces. Every mountain farm sent down its man to the village, the tiny bands united in the market towns and marched to join the columns that flowed out of every valley. By the end of the winter the land was armed. The invader was said to be lurking in the northern mountains.

The forces of the Empire moved slowly; in the foothills their endless baggage-trains were ambushed again and again. Further north, the poised accumulated snows of winter were loosed upon them by single horsemen on high skylines. The Emperor led his groaning armies up to the mouth of passes where the wind struck at their faces with an emerald whip. In the great battle of the crests, storms of arrows broke upon them out of rolling banks of mist; the Imperial host became a shapeless thing striving to hide itself in the crannies of the precipices. Months later and half a province away the Emperor refounded part of his army, but was forced to cede town after town in a great southward circuit of the kingdom. Watching from a hillock the nomad hordes burning down one
more of many hundred villages, the Emperor knew that among the distant fleeing figures too tiny to be recognized were the parents, brothers and sisters of So. From that village the remnants of his bodyguard hurried him away, down a road choked with autumn leaves. The army had broken and fled; the horsemen were close upon them. In a minute his last soldiers were struck down by the flights of arrows, and So was alone, face to face with the great Lord of the Grasslands himself with his curving axe-blade swung high. So drew his heavy ceremonial sword and flung it up to defend
himself
. At that moment his foot turned on something buried in the leaves, he looked down, and the axe fell on his neck.