The Mandate of Heaven (64 page)

8
^th
Day, 9
^th
Month, 1322

At dawn Hsiung awoke with a start from his couch on the ship’s deck. Mist drifted across the lake and his blanket was damp with dew. Throwing it off, he rose, calling out to his picked bodyguard.

‘Any news of P’ao while I slept?’

The officer on duty bowed. ‘No, sire!’

Hsiung squeezed his hands, recollecting he had intended to dismiss Won-du. There seemed no time for that now.

‘Summon all my senior captains,’ he commanded. ‘Send at least three boats to land spies on the shore. I must know the exact moment our land army approaches Hou-ming …’

Before he could say more a loud bang echoed across the lake, its exact origin obscured by the rolling mist. Hsiung recognised it as a signal rocket – and not one of his own.

‘To arms!’ he bellowed. ‘All men to arms!’

For the next few hours the fog thickened with screams and the echoing detonations of thunderclap bombs hurled blindly into the swirling air. Smoke thickened the mist as dozens of ships burned. Hsiung’s own battleship collided with a large three-masted junk and fierce exchanges of arrows were resolved by a furious boarding led by the Noble Count himself.

By noon the fog began to melt away, revealing the extent of the losses on both sides. Scores of rebel ships had been captured or sunk; an equal number of government vessels suffered a similar fate. Unexpectedly, the mist had favoured the rebels, for in such conditions tenacity and courage counted more than manoeuvrability and skill. In that regard, the Yueh Fei soldiers, fanatical in their grievances against the foreign usurpers, had the advantage.

The Noble Count’s elation at his capture of the enemy junk faded when he realised how close to the shore the Newly Adhered Navy had drifted over the course of the fighting. Equally alarming were the fresh squadrons of enemy ships arriving from the west as though they had been awaiting the outcome of the battle in the fog. The rebels’ advantage in numbers had already been reversed. With a shock, Hsiung realised they were almost trapped.

‘They knew we were coming!’ he exclaimed. ‘To the exact day!’

Hsiung turned to examine Hou-ming in the distance. If a trap had been prepared for his fleet, how must P’ao be faring on land? And until the Red Turban land army arrived he dared not attack the harbour walls of Hou-ming by water.

Twilight found both fleets tending scorched wounds. More plumes of smoke rose from Hou-ming. Long, anxious hours passed without a single report of P’ao’s advance.

9
^th
Day, 9
^th
Month, 1322

Every melody, however harsh and unpleasing to the ear, floats upon some kind of harmony. That red autumn dawn, Hou-ming floated upon an insistent swell of disharmony. The first riots broke out in the Southern Suburbs where clans of fisher-folk and sailors loyal to the Red Turbans lived in filthy, impoverished villages reclaimed from swampland. The news that the Yueh Fei rebel fleet was engaging the enemy out on the lake and that a large land force had disembarked south of the city was enough to provoke their rebellion. Abused and oppressed for two generations, at last they could respond in kind. A force of two hundred reluctant Chinese mercenaries sent to pacify the fisher-villages was soon disarmed then recruited to the rebel cause. In alarm, Prince Arslan sent messengers to reserves of his own hiding in the hills north of Hou-ming and ordered the closing of the Southern Gates, despite a fixed plan to keep all the gates temptingly open. A company of Tipchak archers promptly used the confusion as a pretext to loot a dozen floating oriole houses in the entertainment district.

Panic spread through the slums and commercial districts of Hou-ming. It seemed a massacre would again descend on them like a ravaging typhoon. Everywhere people fled onto the streets carrying bundles of possessions or pushing handcarts. Thousands besieged the Northern Gates, a stream seeking release from a simmering, tight-lidded cauldron. At first they were beaten back by Prince Arslan’s men until the soldiers were almost overwhelmed. If the Yueh Fei rebels did establish a siege, the Mongol lord would need the co-operation of those he had ruled – and utterly despised – for so long. Besides, a reduced population meant fewer mouths to feed. Thus he ordered the opening of the Northern Gates and all day refugees flowed into the countryside. With them departed yet more of Prince Arslan’s claim upon the Mandate of Heaven, for what manner of ruler abandons his people when they are threatened by a hostile fleet and army?

Rumours of the battle on the lake rushed back and forth. At first the Noble Count of Lingling was triumphant; his navy had smashed a force twice its size through sheer courage! Surely the Buddha Maitreya’s manifestation on earth must follow such a portent! … An hour later … Heaven had chosen the Great Khan, the only true Emperor of the Middle Kingdom! Already the rebel fleet was reduced to firewood floating in the lake amidst the corpses of a hundred thousand Yueh Fei bandits … An hour after that … Flee the city! The rebels are triumphant and are attacking the Southern Suburbs, slaughtering man, woman and child as they advance! Even Prince Arslan has fled, taking whatever treasures he can carry!

So the day passed.

At the very start of that terrible day, a messenger had rushed from Golden Bright Temple bearing a hastily penned letter to the head of the Buddhist clergy in Hou-ming. Strangely, it contained no reference to the disorder consuming the city and threatening so many of their faithful followers, Buddhist or Daoist. Instead, Worthy Master Jian offered, on behalf of the Provincial Daoist Council, to exchange Cloud Abode Monastery for a generous portion of the Buddha’s knucklebone. If the aforesaid holy relic was sent to Worthy Master Jian by dusk that same day, then the Buddhist authorities would be granted full possession of Cloud Abode Monastery from the very same hour, including the image of Chenghuang the City God. Finally, the letter stipulated the exact size and weight of the bone sliver.

The Buddhist Tibetan clergy wondered if the wily Worthy Master was attempting a ruse. Such a hasty offer, so contrary to Daoist interests and on such a desperate day, was incomprehensible. But they had long heard rumours of the Worthy Master’s eccentricities and concluded that the Divine Buddha Makhala had afflicted him with madness. Accordingly, they rushed off messengers agreeing the exchange. Soon news of it was circulating all across the city, further proof – to some, at least – of the world’s imminent end.

Those most affected by the Worthy Master’s decision were among the last to learn of it. It was mid-morning before an embassy arrived at Cloud Abode Monastery with an Edict of Instruction signed by the President of the Provincial Daoist Council.

Yun Shu had risen very late, weak and unsteady from the effects of Void’s magical pills charged with autumn minerals. Her most intimate place felt raw and bruised. More painful was the recollection of the Worthy Master’s rituals, his anger and denunciations. The thought of it brought on wretched tears. The unfairness of his accusations!

Then there was her hasty, insane letter to Golden Lotus calling upon him to collect her from Cloud Abode Monastery. Yun Shu could only think Void’s pills were laced with demonic promptings. How else might she explain her conduct? If only she had heeded Bo-Bai’s warnings! Yun Shu had no idea what to do if Father appeared at the gates of Cloud Abode Monastery and ordered her to accompany him back to Prince Arslan’s compound. A father’s word was law, especially after her hysterical request for his protection. The damage to her standing as Abbess would be fatal.

The one threat Yun Shu failed to anticipate that morning, as crowds of refugees gathered in the streets and two fleets clashed out on the lake, was the Worthy Master’s desperation. Hence her surprise when messengers from Golden Bright Temple beat on the closed bronze doors of the monastery with the butts of bamboo clubs.

At that precise moment the Nuns of Serene Perfection were gathered in one place – before the grinning image of Chenghuang – beseeching the City God to avert a massacre. They had formed a shape with their bodies that imitated the Great Dipper constellation and had commenced a sutra. All fell silent as shouts of alarm and running footsteps crossed the courtyard to the Temple of Celestial Teachers. Fifteen Nuns were present, the rest having fled the monastery for the safety of their families. As many servants also remained, continuing their routines under the stern eye of Eunuch Bo-Bai.

Suddenly the painted wooden doors of the Temple slid open, revealing a pale autumn morning. Candles in the shrine room flickered and glowed. A few stray, brown leaves blew in past four men wearing the purple robes of Daoist priests. At their head stood Void. The assembled Nuns muttered prayers and fingered amulets to avert misfortune arising from the interruption of their rite.

‘Where is Abbess Yun Shu?’ drawled Void. His eyes were red-rimmed and unfocussed.

‘Do you really not recognise me?’ she asked, contemptuously.

The wind was rising in the trees of Monkey Hat Hill.

‘Read this,’ he instructed, holding out a sheet of parchment on which hastily composed characters snaked in ribbons. She recognised it as the Worthy Master’s handwriting when in a divinely inspired condition.

Unfolding the thick paper – at least no expense had been spared for that – she read the letter with shock then anger.

‘This is a foolish edict!’ she exclaimed. ‘I refuse to believe the Worthy Master wrote it!’

Void surveyed her laconically.

‘Even if he
did
,’ she added, ‘I do not believe he possesses the necessary authority!’

‘It is the Provincial Daoist Council that commands you,’ said Void.

‘How can they! The city is in chaos. They cannot have met to discuss such a matter.’

‘The Council expects obedience from registered Nuns,’ he said. ‘Are you not instructed to read it aloud three times to all Nuns of Serene Perfection and servants residing in Cloud Abode Monastery? Well then, proceed!’

Yun Shu bowed her head in distress at such disrespect. Her eyelids fluttered.

‘You read it,’ she whispered.

Void nodded courteously and unrolled the letter.

‘Assembled Servants of the Dao,’ he intoned. ‘On the 9
^th
Day of the 9
^th
Month in the Year of the Tortoise, let it be known that Divine Instructions have been sent to the Provincial Daoist Council of Hou-ming Province by the Blessed Queen Mother of the West! First, a message sent through spirit-writing. Then, a vision-journey experienced by the President of the Daoist Council in which he was summoned to the Queen Mother’s throne room to receive divine commands.’

A few of the Nuns cried out in joy at such signs of divine favour. They did not doubt what everyone knew to be true: the Worthy Master was on the threshold of Immortality and conferred with the goddess on a regular basis.

‘Ahem,’ continued Void, ‘there is more: “The Queen Mother instructs all loyal servants of the Dao to obey the following. Firstly, to give thanks for Her gracious condescension. Secondly, in order to heal the rift between Buddhist and Daoist in Hou-ming Province, Cloud Abode Monastery is to pass in perpetuity to the control of the Buddhist clergy at dusk on the 9
^th
Day of the 9
^th
Month in the Year of the Tortoise. Moreover, that the image of Chenghuang shall be likewise passed to them. Thirdly, any registered Nun, Priest, Monk or other sundry servants of the Dao questioning her Divine Edict shall be de-registered instantly and without appeal. Fourthly, the Nuns of Serene Perfection currently residing in Cloud Abode Monastery must gather their belongings and leave that place by dusk of the 9
^th
Day, 9
^th
Month, Year of the Tortoise or be de-registered instantly as Serene Ones.’

A shocked silence greeted this divine decree. No one dared speak lest all the protections offered by the law to a Serene One be confiscated: her license to preach and cast spells for a fee, to beg alms and sell amulets, let alone the food and shelter provided by the Daoist authorities. In short, she would be thrown upon her own resources in a city torn by war. A world where women were either wives, drudges or whores – often all three at once.