Wild Orchid (12 page)

The muster would occur in one week’s time.

I do not think I will ever forget the look on Zao Xing’s face when the messenger arrived at our door. Never did I respect or love her more. I could see Zao Xing’s body quiver with the effort it took to not cling to my father, to keep her fear and despair to herself. Not once did she beg my father to stay with her and the unborn child she carried. Not once did she plead with him to not allow history to repeat itself.

Instead she, Min Xian, and I worked together to make sure my father would have everything he needed when he rode away to war. We sewed a fur lining inside his cloak, for he was heading north and the weather would be cold.

We made sure the leather of his armor was waterproof and supple. My father cared for his weapons and his horse himself. And all of us waited for special word from the emperor calling my father to return to his duties as a general. Surely, after all Hua Wei had done to defend China, the Son of Heaven would request my father’s experience once more.

But the days came and went, and no message from the emperor arrived. And though he tried to hide his pain at this, it seemed to me that with every day that passed my father grew older before my eyes. Until finally the night before he had to depart arrived. By then we all knew the truth: There would be no special summons. When my father went to fight, it would be as a common soldier. This increased the chance that he would not come back alive.

We ate a quiet dinner the night before my father’s departure. Zao Xing’s eyes were red, signaling she had been crying in private. But she sat at my father’s side and served him his dinner with her customary grace.

From across the table I watched the two of them together. I saw the way my father angled his body toward her as he sat, a gesture I think he made without knowing it. I saw the way their fingers met as she
passed him dishes, lingered for a few moments before moving on to their next task.

They are showing their love for each other without words
, I realized suddenly. And though I was sure they would do so later in the privacy of their own apartments, it seemed they were also saying good-bye. As I watched them demonstrate their love, I felt a resolution harden in my heart. It was one that had been taking shape there for many days, ever since word of the muster had come, but that I had allowed myself to clearly acknowledge only that night.

I cannot let him go
, I thought.

My father had as quick and agile a mind as ever, a mind that could have been used against the Huns. But his body was growing old. The wound that had sent him home in the first place had been slow to heal. There was every reason to suppose my father would not survive another injury. Against all odds he had found happiness. My father had a new, young wife who would give him a child, perhaps even a son.

If I had been a son, I could have gone to fight in my father’s place. My father could have remained home and our family could still have kept its honor. But I was not a boy; I was a girl. A girl who could ride a horse, with or without a saddle. A girl who could shoot an arrow from a bow made for a tall, strong man and still hit her target. A girl who had never wanted what other girls want. A girl unlike any other girl in China.

I must not let my father go to fight
, I thought.
I will not
.

I would not watch my father ride away, and then stay behind to comfort my stepmother as she cried herself to sleep at night. I loved them both too much. And I had waited too long for my father to come home in the first place to stand in the door of our home now and watch him ride away to die.

And so I would do the only thing I could to protect both my father’s life and our family’s honor: I would go to fight in his place. I would prove myself to be my father’s child, even if I was a daughter.

I waited until the house was quiet and then waited a little longer. I had no way to make certain the others were asleep. If I’d had to make a guess, it would have been that none of us would get much sleep that night. But finally the walls themselves seemed to fall into a fitful doze, as if acknowledging that the future was set and there was nothing to be changed by keeping watch through the night.

I threw back my covers and slipped out of bed, dressing quickly in my oldest clothes, the ones that made me look the most like a boy. My ears strained against the silence, alert for even the slightest sound. But the house stayed peaceful all around me. Whispering a prayer of thanks, I gathered the few belongings I had decided to take and tied them into my winter cloak. It was not as warm as my father’s because it had no fur lining. But it would have to do. I took my bow and quiver full of arrows and slung them across my shoulders.

I tiptoed to the kitchen, wrapped some food in a knapsack, and retrieved a water skin. I would not risk filling it here but would do so from the stream. Then I let myself out of the house and walked quickly to the stables. I did not look back. I feared that if I did, I would lose my nerve, in spite of all my resolve.

It was fortunate that my father’s great stallion and I were well acquainted with each other. Otherwise, my plan would have been over even before it had started. I fed the horse a bit of apple, and he let me saddle him without protest. I was just leading him from the stall when the door to the stable slid open. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“I thought so,” Min Xian said as she poked her head around the door.

“Min Xian,” I breathed. “Be quiet. Come in and close the door.”

“What’s the point in doing that when you’ll only open it right back up again?” she asked, but she did lower her voice. “You didn’t think I was going to let you go without saying good-bye, did you?”

“You knew I would do this?” I asked, suddenly feeling the hot sting of tears behind my eyes.

“Of course I did, little one,” my nurse said. She crossed to where I stood, my hand on the horse’s neck, and she placed her hand on my arm. “I saw you watching them at dinner, and saw into your heart, my Mulan. I should stop you.”

“No. You shouldn’t,” I said. “It’s the only way. You know it too, Min Xian.”

“I don’t know that,” she answered crossly. But I knew Min Xian too well to be deceived. The longer she sounded cross, the longer she could postpone crying.

“But even these old eyes can see that it may be the best way,” Min Xian went on. “Now turn around. You can’t go off with all that hair. It’ll give you away for sure. If I cut it and then tie it back, you’ll at least stand a chance of looking like other peasant boys.”

“Oh, thank you, Min Xian,” I said, for I had worried about my hair.

I turned my head and felt her strong fingers grasp my braid. A moment later there was a tug and a rasping sound as Min Xian moved the knife blade back and forth. And then my head felt strange and light. Min Xian tucked the thick braid of hair into her sash. Then she quickly rebraided what was left on my head, tying the end with a leather thong.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now take this.” She turned me back around and thrust a bundle into my hands.

“I packed food,” I protested.

Min Xian gave a grunt. “Take more. It’s a two-day journey to the muster place, and you’ve never ridden as hard as you must to make it there in time. If you faint from hunger as soon as you arrive, you’ll be no use to anyone.”

“Only girls faint from hunger,” I said. “And I’m no longer a girl, remember?”

Min Xian gave a snort. “Hold your tongue unless
you’re spoken to,” she said. “Go quickly. Don’t stop to make friends on the road. It will be full of many such as you, going to do their duty.”

She stepped back. “Get along with you now. And remember that no matter what you show on the outside, inside you have a tiger’s heart.”

“I will,” I promised. “Please tell my father and Zao Xing that I love them.”

Min Xian nodded. “I’ll hardly need to do that,” she said. “They already know it, and they’ll feel it all the more strongly once you are gone. Hurry now. Before I change my mind and wake them up instead.”

“Help me, then,” I said. Together we carefully lifted each of the horse’s hooves and wrapped them in cloth. This would keep the noise from giving us away as we crossed our courtyard. Once I reached the hard-packed earth of the road, I would take them off. There would no longer be a need for silence.

Min Xian went with me as far as our gate, helping me to ease it open. I led the horse through and stopped to free his feet. Min Xian took the cloths from me, clutching them to her chest.

“Mulan.”

I swung myself up into the saddle, heart pounding. I was really going to do this. I was going off to war.

“What is it?” I asked. “Speak quickly, Min Xian.”

“There is something you should know before you go,” she said. “Something that I should have had the courage to tell you long ago.”

“What is it?” I asked again.

“Your mother’s name was Xiao Lizi.”

Before I could answer, Min Xian stepped back through the gate and shut it fast behind her.

I put my heels to the horse’s flanks, urging him out into the road. I was glad he was sure-footed, even in the dark, because I could see nothing through the tears that filled my eyes.

My mother’s name was “Little Plum.”

T
WELVE

I arrived at the assembly place for the Son of Heaven’s great army after two days of hard riding. Along the way I had plenty of opportunities to be grateful for Min Xian’s advice. Two long days in the saddle is not the same as an afternoon’s ride for pleasure. By the time I reached the place of muster, my whole body was aching and sore. But I had done it, becoming one of the steady stream of men and boys traveling to do their duty.

I moved as swiftly as I could, and I spoke to as few people as possible.

The longer I traveled, the colder it became, for I was moving almost due north. More than once I wished for my father’s fur-lined cloak.

For as long as I live, I will never forget my first sight of the great encampment and the army that the Son of Heaven had called together to defend China. It was a large valley at the mouth of the mountain pass through which the emperor’s spies had said the Huns planned to attack. As I approached, it seemed to me that the land itself had come alive, for it moved with men and horses. The air above it was filled with
the smoke of cooking fires. A long line of recruits clogged the road that was the only access. As we waited, word of what was happening began to move down the line.

Each new recruit was being asked a series of questions before he was given his assignment and permitted to enter the valley. The army would be divided into three large companies, each one led by one of the princes.

“As for me, I hope to fight with Prince Jian,” said the man beside me. He was not quite my father’s age. Though, with his face lined from the sun it was difficult to tell.

“You’d do better to fight for the middle son, Prince Guang. He’s the better fighter, or so they say,” commented another.

“That may be,” the first man answered. “But I’ve heard that General Yuwen is commanding Prince Jian’s forces. He’s an old campaigner. I’ve fought with him before. And the young prince is the emperor’s favorite, or so they say.”

“That must make things happy at home,” a voice behind me remarked.

The older man beside me snorted. “I know nothing of court intrigues,” he replied. “But I do know this: Many things can happen in the heat of battle.”

After that there was no more talking, as each of us stayed busy with our own thoughts. Soon enough I came to the head of the line.

Where the road ended and the encampment
began, the land widened out. There a group of experienced soldiers were interviewing the recruits and handing out assignments. Those of us on horseback now dismounted. I reached to thread my fingers through the horse’s mane, and he turned his head, blowing softly into my face through his large nostrils, as if to offer reassurance.

“You, boy, what is your name?” the official barked.

I had given this a lot of thought and had decided to stick to the truth as much as possible. I could hardly say my name was Hua Mulan, for there wasn’t a boy on earth who was named orchid. But I thought that I might risk my family name.

“Hua Gong-shi,” I answered as boldly as I could.

“Huh,” the soldier said, and I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile. He sounded exactly like my father.

“You are young to have such a fine horse,” the soldier said. All of a sudden he thrust his face right into mine. “Unless, of course, you stole it.”

“I am not a thief,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm with the insult. My heart began to pound in fear and anger combined. But even then my mind was racing faster.

Think, Mulan
, I told myself. If I could think, and act, quickly enough, perhaps I could turn this situation to my advantage.

“The horse was a gift,” I said now. “From General Yuwen Huaji himself. Go and ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

The soldier made a sound of disgust. But he did step back. I had managed to sow a seed of doubt.

“You expect me to disturb a general on your behalf?” the soldier inquired, his tone sarcastic. “Perhaps I should just turn you over to his aide right here and now. He’ll soon get to the bottom of this.”