Binu and the Great Wall of China (5 page)

Binu looked around her and noticed a blue aura over the mountains; in the sunlight the blue grass was, truly, blue. The shabbily dressed grass-gatherers spread out and followed the stream, looking for thickets of grass, then eventually came together and, even though Binu was at the base of the mountain, she could see them up on the mountain fighting over clumps of grass. From a distance, the glowing fury of people scrambling on the mountain reminded her of wild animals fighting over food.

‘Are you here to gather grass too? If so, why are you carrying a bundle on your head? And where are your basket and your scythe?’ It was a donkey-cart driver in a green, turban-like headdress, a man of indeterminate age, with a bushy beard and unkempt sideburns. The look in his eyes was an uncanny mixture of evil and warmth.

‘No, I’m not. I was told that there are donkey carts in Bluegrass Ravine that can take me north,’ Binu said. ‘Elder Brother, will you take your donkey cart up north?’

‘To do what? Commit suicide?’ the carter replied, cruelly. He seemed to cradle his hands, as if cold, and raised a bare foot. He studied the bundle on Binu’s head out of the corner of his eye, trying to imagine what it contained. Then, without warning, he kicked Binu and demanded, ‘What’s in the bundle? Open it up and let me see!’

‘Why do you want to inspect it?’ Binu asked as she lifted the bundle down. ‘You see,’ she added as she carelessly undid the wrapping, ‘it’s nothing. It may look impressive, but it isn’t worth much: just a winter coat for my man, and a frog.’

‘Did you say a frog? You’re carrying a frog in that bundle?’ The carter was flabbergasted. His eyes lit up like a lantern, and he started to go through the contents. ‘A frog, you say, well I’ll have to see about that. Are you from Huangdian? Those people take a rooster with them everywhere they go, to lead the way. But a frog? How can a frog lead the way if you hide it in your bundle?’

‘I am not from Huangdian, Elder Brother. I live in Peach Village, on the other side of the mountain. My frog is blind and cannot lead me anywhere. I must lead it.’

‘How can you say you’re not from Huangdian? Your accent gives you away. You people are too sly to carry a bundle that is worth nothing. There must be a ghost in it.’

Binu did not know how to prove that she was from Peach Village, but proving the innocence of her bundle was easy. Looking slightly offended, she shook it. ‘Come out here, frog, let our Elder Brother have a look at you.
A ghost in my bundle? Never! A frog has nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not carrying any salt, they wouldn’t let me. And I don’t have a knife, you can’t carry a knife in a bundle.’ Binu urged the frog to hop out and show itself, but it was curled up inside Qiliang’s sandal, having got used to the warmth and darkness there, and refused to come out. A cowardly frog, it had been frightened all along the way, and now it was petrified. Binu explained the situation to the carter as she held the sandal out for him to see. ‘I’m telling you the truth, Elder Brother, there’s a frog in there. What crime have I committed by taking a frog to Great Swallow Mountain?’

‘Whether or not you have committed a crime is not for you to say. Your strange, furtive manner proves that you are from Huangdian! I’m telling you, the King has already arrived in Pingyang Prefecture, where people from Huangdian, and snakes, are to be eradicated!’

‘I am not from Huangdian; I live in Peach Village. And this frog is not a snake. Please, look inside this sandal, and you’ll see it’s a frog, not a snake.’

‘So you refuse to admit that you’re from Huangdian. The people of Huangdian have rebelled against the court for thirty years. Men and women alike have ventured forth as assassins and bandits. Who but a woman from Huangdian would travel from place to place alone, and
who would hide a frog in a sandal? It is probably a dangerous frog, maybe a snake reborn in disguise! I’m telling you for your own good, if you travel beyond Blue Cloud Pass and reach Pingyang Prefecture, you’ll see what’s waiting for you. Snakes are the King’s greatest fear. No matter how you raise them, they’ll still bite you. And people from Huangdian are the King’s mortal enemies. No matter how you deal with them, they will never submit. They are born with one thought: to assassinate the King. Let me remind you that all the grass in every town and village of Lulin Prefecture was burned, over and over, until every last snake egg was fried to a crisp. Anyone from Huangdian, young or old, is to be arrested and burned alive!’

That terrified Binu. She was not from Huangdian – which was on the other side of North Mountain – but she was frightened nonetheless. Her mind in turmoil, she clutched her bundle and walked to a roadside stand where straw baskets were for sale. People were staring at her bundle, so, with rising indignation, she showed them Qiliang’s sandal. ‘Everyone take a look. Is this a frog or is it a snake? Of course it’s a frog, but he says it’s a snake reborn as a frog.’ Their curiosity roused, people gathered round to inspect the frog and try to guess where Binu had come from.

‘Carrying a frog or carrying a snake, what’s the difference?’ one of them said. ‘If this woman isn’t a sorceress, she’s a madwoman!’

In the prosperous town of Bluegrass Ravine, Binu discovered how it felt to be alone and forsaken. She did not know how to lie, yet the people refused to believe her. When she related her sad story, they doubted her from the very beginning. She told them she was from Peach Village, not Huangdian, that the two places were separated by a mountain, and that her accent was nothing like people from Huangdian. But the people in Bluegrass Ravine had no way of differentiating between the two accents, so they asked her, ‘The people of Peach Village, are they assassins, too?’

Binu told them she was the wife of Wan Qiliang. ‘Have any of you ladies and gentlemen seen my Qiliang?’

They laughed. ‘No one here knows your Wan Qiliang.’

‘Who is this Wan Qiliang?’ someone asked. ‘Does he have his name tattooed on his forehead?’ They told her that hundreds of thousands of workers were building the Great Wall, so who could possibly know anyone named Wan Qiliang?

Many of the people showed unusual interest in the bundle on her head, reaching out with dirty hands to grab hold of Qiliang’s winter coat. ‘Do you mean to say
you’re travelling all the way to Great Swallow Mountain just to give this to your husband?’

‘Yes,’ Binu replied, ‘I’m taking him winter clothing. What else can I do? When my Qiliang was dragged off he wasn’t even wearing a shirt.’

It was a simple statement of fact, but the people treated it as the ravings of a madwoman or a dreamlike fantasy. Binu decided not to talk any more.

‘You people won’t believe anything I say, so I’m better off not saying anything,’ she muttered to herself as she painstakingly rewrapped her bundle. ‘If I pretend I’m a mute, you won’t think I’m crazy,’ she said to the old man selling the straw baskets. ‘All I have to do to make you believe me is lie.’

Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the carter snorted and said, ‘Telling lies is hard for a woman like you. Not saying anything is even harder.’

Binu had the feeling that this old man knew what was in her heart, but she was not about to appear weak, so she put her bundle back on her head and said, ‘How hard can it be to pretend I’m a mute? You say that not talking is hard; well, this time, I’ve made up my mind. You can all forget about trying to talk to me.’

The carter leaned against his donkey cart and blocked Binu’s way with his leg. It was a skinny, filthy leg that
stuck out from under his fancy jacket, but it was more aggressive than an arm. He rudely but forcefully placed it against Binu’s hip. ‘Leaving already?’ he said. ‘Where to? I hear the sound of sabre coins in that bundle of yours. You’re going to have to leave some as a road tax.’

With a mixture of anger and shame, Binu pushed his leg away. Though she had vowed only moments ago not to speak, with his leg blocking her way, she had to say something. ‘What do you mean, a road tax? You’re a highwayman, one who uses his feet!’ She rubbed her cheek with one finger, trying to shame the man. ‘Elder Brother,’ she said, ‘I don’t like to curse people, but that foot of yours is more obscene than other people’s hands!’

He mocked her with a sneer. ‘I thought you were going to be a mute,’ he said. ‘Why are you talking?’ He abruptly lifted his crossed arms out from his armpits and said ‘Hands? Hands are for fools. I’ve never touched a woman with my hands. Here, look for my hands. Where are they?’

Binu was astounded. There were no hands, just two stumps sticking up in the air, a pair of tree stumps flaunting their withered, severed stubs, the fingers and palms long gone. With a dreadful shriek, she covered her eyes. ‘Elder Brother,’ she asked, despite her fear, ‘who chopped off your hands?’

The carter deliberately displayed his handless stumps, first the left and then the right. ‘Why are you so interested in these? Thinking of marrying me?’ He sniggered menacingly. ‘Who cut them off? Guess. I tell you, you can try till the end of time, but you’ll never guess. I did it myself to avoid being taken to Great Swallow Mountain! First I cut off my left hand, but the pressgang man said that missing the left hand made no difference, since I could still carry stones with my right. So I asked my father to help me cut the right one off. I’ll make your hair stand on end when I tell you what happened then. The pressgang messenger was outside pounding on our door while I was inside cutting off my right hand, but with my father’s help both hands were gone just as he broke down the door.’

‘I can see that your hands are gone, Elder Brother,’ said an ashen-faced Binu as she peeked through the gaps between her fingers. ‘But how can you drive a cart with no hands?’

‘I’ve got feet! Everyone in Bluegrass Ravine knows the carter with no palms. My legs and my feet are known far and wide by everyone except a stupid woman like you, who doesn’t know what I can do with them. They are itching to put on a show.’ He raised them slowly, brought them together like a pair of hands, and clasped
the reins between them. ‘I tell you,’ he said, looking Binu in the eye, ‘I’m a retainer in the employment of Lord Hengming, who would never have taken me on if I hadn’t possessed the unique skill of driving a cart with my feet.’

At a loss to understand the special status that the carter was boasting about, Binu’s face wore only an expression of deep-seated fear, without admiration or respect. Apparently displeased, Wuzhang, or ‘No Palms’ said. ‘What are you staring at? Is that pity I see? You pity me? You can keep your damned pity. If I hadn’t chopped off my hands, I’d have been dragged off to Great Swallow Mountain to work like a slave. If I’d kept my hands, I’d never have developed the special skill of driving a cart with my feet, and I’d never have had a chance of being employed by Lord Hengming. Stop staring at me and look at that hunchback there with his oxcart. That hump did him no good, because they said it would have been perfect for carrying stones to the Great Wall. No need to bend over. The only way he was able to keep driving an oxcart in Bluegrass Ravine was to pay off the pressgang messenger.’

Binu glanced at the hunchbacked oxcart driver, who was raking blue grass in his cart and sneaking looks at Binu and the palmless carter. Why, she wondered, was
he smiling crookedly, salaciously? He laid down his rake when she looked at him, rested one hand against his belly, and blinked rapidly. ‘Is there something wrong with his eyes?’ Binu asked Wuzhang. ‘Why does he keep blinking?’ Wuzhang just laughed.

Then the hunchback became audacious; he slid his hand down into his pants and started making strange gestures. ‘How much?’ he shouted.

Binu did not understand. ‘How much for what? I am not selling baskets.’

The hunchback then made an obscene gesture with his fingers, the sight of which turned Binu’s face scarlet. She turned and angrily banged her hand against her eyes, saying, ‘If all I see are people like that, what good are eyes?’

Showing no emotion, Wuzhang said, ‘Hit your eyes, go ahead, blind yourself. But then how will you get to Great Swallow Mountain? And, even if you manage that, with no eyes, how will you tell which one of the thousands of labourers is your husband? As a young woman alone on a long journey, remember that you wear your chastity on your sleeve. If a hen comes running out of the coop, you can bet there will be a rooster hot on her trail. The only way you will keep your eyes clean is, in fact, to go blind!’

Her anger mounting, Binu shrieked at Wuzhang, ‘If the world were full of obscene men like you, then being blind like my frog would be a blessing!’

The carters were clearly not good men. It was time for her to carry on through the pass and be on her way; she’d see what the wealthy people living up on the terrace were like, see if there were good people there. But was she going to walk straight past one man’s donkey cart and another man’s oxcart? No. Instead, she walked around the donkey cart owned by Wuzhang, who was patting his donkey lovingly on the rump as she went by. It was one of those light-coloured, long-and-low animals unique to Blue Cloud Prefecture. It was shod. As she passed by, grey droppings spilled out of its rump, immediately attracting a swarm of flies. Kind-hearted Binu tried to wave them away with her hand, a kindness that the donkey was not pleased to accept. Suddenly rearing up, it brayed in Binu’s face, then edged its rump up beside her and let loose another burst of droppings. Even the Bluegrass Ravine animals showed her no respect, and yet she had a soft spot for this donkey; she could not help herself. Gazing into its big grey eyes, she said, ‘This donkey is better-looking than its owner. It’s a good donkey, just slightly bad-tempered.’

‘I thought you wanted to go blind,’ the carter said. ‘You couldn’t gaze at my donkey if you were blind, could
you now? I’m telling you, you cannot gaze at my donkey for free. Every look will cost you one coin!’

‘Let me ask you, Elder Brother. Which is more expensive, an ox or a donkey?’

‘An ox is expensive, but a donkey is not cheap. More expensive than buying a person,’ the carter said.

Binu gazed timidly at the carter. ‘I know that livestock is expensive these days. If I cannot afford it, I won’t buy. But I do have nine sabre coins. Would that be enough to hire your donkey cart?’