The Silk Tree (23 page)

They were roused before dawn and after a solid meal the caravan headed out. The same steady swing and plod, the snaking line ahead a ribbon of colour in the dun-grey and soft green of the fields, the distant smudge of the mountains always there.

In a way it was soothing, the regular pace and sounds of leather against hide, the soft tinkle of bits and bridle on his mount blending with the same up and down the line. Nicander found himself surrendering to the rhythms of the journey.

As the sun grew hot, pomegranates were issued, a surprisingly effective remedy against thirst but he was glad when they left the road to stop at a well-trodden riverbank to freshen the animals. The water gourd which had seemed so big when he’d bought it in Chang An now appeared such a puny thing to set against the dusty road and he drank sparingly.

He saw Su chatting amiably with a merchant and waited his chance for a word.

‘Last night I was talking to one of the cameleers. He told me something of your work and I have to admit to having no idea of what a stiff job you do. You have my respect, Su
sheng
.’

The weather-ravaged features eased slightly. ‘So what is it you’re wanting from me, Ni
sheng
? Something special for your fine lady?’

‘Not at all. I was just wondering … what will we see ahead?’

‘A few more weeks on this road takes us across the river and then to the edge of the desert. We can’t take that on, so we turn left and stick close to the mountains – the Kunlun we calls ’em – until we get all around to Khotan. Simple, really.’

‘I’m going to Aksu, Su
sheng
.’

‘Well, I can’t help you there. This caravan’s for Khotan and that’s where I stops. You’ll be continuing on around the desert rim with another. Ask him.’

‘I’ve heard the desert is a wicked place.’

‘It is,’ Su said seriously. ‘The worst in the world. We’ll be moving fast, though. Should be through to Khotan in a few months at the outside.’

‘What if there’s—’

‘You leave all the worrying to me, holy man. We’re on track and staying there. I’m a Sogdian, I take care to keep in with my friends and they’ll let me know if there’s trouble ahead.’

‘Will it always be like this? Apart from the desert, that is.’

‘Ha! You’ll be seeing sights you can’t imagine, feeling cold and heat like the poor bastards in hell but we’ll pull through. Never lost a caravan yet – if I did I wouldn’t be here, would I?’

‘The next …’

‘Crossing the Yellow River at Lan Chou. A bit of a spectacle there. Then naught much until we reaches the Great Desert and that’ll open your eyes. Dunhuang, the monks’ll go crazy and it’s a sight if you likes that kind of thing. Then a bit empty, like, until we reach …’

So, months on the trail, just to reach the other side of this vast desert.

That night it was much the same. A caravanserai effortlessly catering to their numbers, another tiny cell, and away at dawn.

The ground was hilly, light forest crowning the slopes. They passed over the summit through a well-travelled cleft that exposed the fine-dust soil the Chinese called ‘yellow earth’ but on the other side the winds from the right increased, driving invisible particles of dust and sand to sting and irritate exposed skin. It stayed with them all day but mercifully eased towards the afternoon.

Nicander peered into the distance. Was it his imagination or were the mountains closer?

Marius had been riding alongside where he could. They talked occasionally, but mainly continued in companionable silence.

Unexpectedly, with a full hour or more of daylight left, the leaders turned off the road into a sparsely grassed field and rotated to direct the caravan into a giant circle.

‘Dismount!’

Nicander gave Marius a wary glance. This night they would spend without the convenience and comfort of a caravanserai.

A fire was started, flaring and quickly growing bigger. To one side the camels were pegged out in several lines, the horses beyond. On the opposite side of the fire all unloaded freight was stacked together and guards posted.

If they wanted a tent, apparently it would be extra. Feeling the night air coming on Nicander had his views but Marius chuckled, ‘We pocket the hire and kip out under the stars!’

While the daylight lasted the tents were erected and owners’ packs transferred to them. Of strong goat-hide reinforced felt, they had a full eight guy lines each side as if at any time expecting a gale of wind. Peeking inside one Nicander saw that it was remarkably snug, with sewn-in hooks for belongings and a substantial ground covering.

As the chill of the evening drew in, people moved to the fire, taking bedrolls or other articles to sit on and it quickly became the centre of activity. Not far away there was a kitchen with its own fire contained in iron fittings already sizzling with activity – three vast pans, each a yard across, conjuring a hearty meal of vegetables, rice and chicken.

When the Ice Queen did not appear from her tent Nicander gleefully realised he could take his choice of companions at dinner.

The monks were together, chatting solemnly, he’d let them be. A cloaked merchant sat with his wife holding court to several around him and another group had settled around a portly man in finer dress than the others. On impulse Nicander went over to a young man sitting at the edge. Marius followed.

‘May I sit here? I’m Ni K’an Ta of Ta Hsin, this is Ma Lai Ssu.’

‘Wu Kuo Chin. Ta Hsin – I haven’t heard …?’

‘A far kingdom. We’re holy men on a journey to seek after truth.’

‘I’m an officer of the Imperial Bannermen.’

Nicander froze. A soldier of the Emperor sent to root them out?

‘Ah. How strange – may we know why it is you’re in this caravan?’

‘It’s the usual way for officers to travel out to join their garrison at the border.’

‘I see,’ said Nicander in relief. ‘Forgive me, this is my first visit to your land.’

‘Do you know much of our past, Ni
lao na
?’

‘Not as much as I’d wish to.’

‘Well, understand that from the time of the Han dynasty we have held the lands to the west for the Empire, including the Great Desert at its heart. Now, since we’ve suffered unrest and … and uncertainty on the Celestial Throne, we have lost them. Only our watchtowers and garrisons at the edge of the desert stand between us and the barbarians.’

‘A challenging post, Wu
hsien sheng.
’

‘Indeed.’

‘Not as fearful as for an official who must enter in upon these lands to regulate our lawful tribute of the lesser kingdoms!’ the well-dressed fat man called across.

‘Tribute?’ the merchant sitting with his wife scoffed. ‘This is trade’s increase only! We’re the one’s with all the risks – and no one at our backs to come rescue if things get hard for us.’

‘You’ve a venture on this caravan?’ Nicander asked.

‘I have – silk and porcelain out, carpets and glassware by return.’ He was strong-faced, bearded and wearing a curious tall hat, some outlander that Nicander hadn’t yet learnt to recognise.

‘You’d be looking to a respectable return, then, the overheads and fees being what they are,’ Nicander said without thinking.

Talk stopped and faces turned to look at him suspiciously.

‘So you know these things?’ the man said slowly.

‘Oh, my father – he’s in the incense trade. Many times have I heard him complain about them.’

‘I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Ni K’an Ta. And yours?’

‘Korkut the Rouran. Then what are you about – that is, when you’re not being holy?’

‘We seek truth wherever it may be in this world.’

‘That’s what spies do.’

‘We’re as well accompanying the Lady P’eng to Aksu.’

‘Ah. The noble lady. It’s not often we see ones of her quality on a freight run. Can you tell us for what reason she’s journeying?’

‘She’s been summoned by her father in Aksu who is in his final sickness.’

‘How sad.’ He paused, ‘But that’s funny – I know Aksu and there’s no P’eng at that level in the place.’

‘She was sent to live with her rich uncle in Chang An,’ Nicander said quickly. ‘Her father is not of that sort.’

‘Then why does she not travel in some style?’

‘I think she grieves for him and does not wish display.’

‘Hm. Once we’ve cleared Lan Chou the going’s rough for anyone, let alone a high-born. You’d think she’d be advised to take camels and attendants by the dozen. Odd.’

Korkut’s wife was in no doubt, however. ‘Can’t you see? You men are the last to catch on, as always.’

‘What do you mean, Zarina, dear?’

‘It’s obvious. She’s a princess being sent to marry a foreign king. They don’t want to risk that she’s captured in an official legation caravan so they send her in disguise. I’ve seen her face – she’s stricken to leave China for ever, poor lamb.’

She turned to Nicander with a big smile. ‘That’s so, isn’t it? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us – isn’t it, friends?’

The others murmured an agreement.

Lost for words Nicander could only stare back dumbly.

Then their meal arrived. Each was given a bowl and iron spoon, and the food was ladled out. There were appreciative murmurs as they tucked in.

After finishing off with melon, they sat contentedly watching the fire.

A night under the stars was not as bad as Nicander had feared. Marius had taken their padded capes and shown him how only the hips required softer ground for comfort, the head in its warm hood needing to be raised only as much as by a rolled-up day cloak.

It was almost sensual, the feel of the chill night breeze on his face, while the rest of him was snuggled into the strong-smelling oiled felt. He heard the soughing of wind and every snick and scurry of night sounds as though part of it, yet he was tucked up in his warm cocoon.

The next day it rained: a spiteful, blustery downpour that started up soon after they were on the road, and which tested their cloaks and bad-weather gear to the limit.

Cold and dispirited, they journeyed on, the road slippery with running yellow mud, horses snorting with their stumbling efforts.

The rain petered out in the afternoon but the mud persisted. Fortunately that night they arrived at a caravanserai – a roof over their heads, piping hot cabbage soup and an early night.

Under grey skies the next morning they resumed their journey, assured that they would not be troubled by rain once they reached Lan Chou, and in fact the sun did show itself towards the afternoon.

Each day saw them a little further on, the sounds of the caravan now familiar and comforting. Occasionally there were snatches of song, a plaintive flute or a flat nasal instrument that Nicander couldn’t place.

His horse walked on meekly, an occasional shake of its head and muffled whinny its only protest. Behind, their camel dutifully plodded in their wake.

One morning some weeks later, Marius spotted new mountains ahead, others to the left and then, unexpectedly, a wide river.

Swirling yellow-brown with silt, it was fast-moving – the Yellow River once more. Further along was the substantial town of Lan Chou.

The settlement had high, well-defended walls and was a frontier between the fertile plains they had been crossing and the route out into the borderlands. On the way to the caravanserai there were strange peoples with weather-darkened faces, market smells that were pungent but unknown and everywhere a restlessness, a feeling of transience.

They did not stay long. Su got them on the road as soon as he could, swearing that he would lose half his crew if they were any longer in such a town.

Not far upstream they arrived at a crossing point, under vertically fluted crags between two opposite flat areas. There were dozens of rafts manned by scores of small, muscle-hard peasants who jockeyed noisily for position, some joining several craft together to form larger rafts.

The rafts were supported by inflated sheepskins and had to be energetically paddled across against the swift-moving current.

The operation took some time; camels imperturbably standing until their turn came, precious cargoes given particular care and passengers marshalled in apprehensive groups.

Halfway across the river Nicander was fascinated to see figures in the cliff opposite – colossal carved statues ninety feet high. He hoped the Buddhas would look kindly upon their journey …

Their crossing complete, the mountains closed in: to the right a range of undistinguished crags with bands of red-brown, to the left a mighty rearing that had the far-off glitter of white snowcaps.

Slowly but steadily the camel train began an ascent on a stony track through the first pass. They were following a caravan route as ancient as time, out of China and into the trackless deserts and fearful wastes of the interior.

Nicander gazed out on a flatness so vast it was limitless. A deadness – where nothing lived, the eternal grey-brown dust and sand with occasional clumps and tufts of desiccated vegetation stretching out in ever-tinier detail until it dissolved into nothingness at the horizon where the desert met the hard blue sky.

And with it a silence descended that was so profound that his ears filled the void with a soundless screaming.

For weeks – and countless miles – they had travelled in company with a solid, reassuringly visible work of man – the Great Wall of China. The wall came to an end in a tall open structure with upturned eaves above a massive portal, the Jade Gate. The act of passing through this was the formal leaving of the Middle Kingdom, China.

After this point they were entirely on their own.

Near overwhelmed with the sense of desolation and loneliness he trudged back to the safety and familiarity of the caravan in time to farewell Wu Kuo Chin, the young officer, who took his leave with a wooden face.

‘A great honour for him,’ Nicander murmured to Korkut.

‘Ha! He’s going to a living death, and he knows it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s to command a band of criminals, slaves and broken-down misfits
sent here for punishment. They have to man those watchtowers and shift for themselves, there’s nobody cares what happens to them. No glory to be won here, only sudden raids by brigands and those bastard Hsien Pei Mongols.’

‘The Great Wall, how long has it been here?’

‘Why, this part … from the time of Western Han. Five, six hundred years.’

Nicander shook his head at the thought that it had been manned continuously for centuries even before Julius Caesar had seized power in old Rome.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Marius, and gave a hail.

His friend waved, his clothes, like Nicander’s own, were now dust-stained and worn. ‘Just heard. We’ve been called up before Su. Wants to talk about what we’re going to face or something.’

It wasn’t a large, formal meeting. The camel-drivers and passage crew were busy at their preparations and knew what was expected but Su was taking no chances with the travellers.

He stood at the centre of a loose circle: Korkut, his lively wife, the monks in a group, others, some thirty in all – and the Ice Queen.

She had compromised her courtly appearance and was now dressed in a plainer robe with less ornately styled hair. Her expression, however, was the same – a patrician stare above the common herd, a controlled blankness.

Su’s bluff features had a serious cast. ‘You’re seeing me because I want you to hear me tell you what’s ahead. To leave you in no doubt what you have to do if it starts getting rough.

‘The first thing for you to know is that I’m in command of this caravan and therefore responsible for it. That means you do exactly what I say. Understood?’

He looked from one to the other. ‘Very well. The second is just as important. Never leave the caravan. We carry only so much water, camel feed and so on and that means the caravan never stops. Not even to look for anyone who’s missing, wandered off somewhere. We never go back!’

Checking to see he still had their full attention he went on, ‘Up to now we’ve more often than not stayed at a comfortable caravanserai. That’s all over.
We’re going on our own resources by day-stages as fast as we can across the plains between oasis stops, where we rest and take on fresh victuals and water. There’s no roads, no paths – if you ramble off you’ll never find your way back, you’ll leave your bones as a warning to others.’

He continued. ‘Water. More precious than gold – you have your own gourds during the day which you’ll only be able to refill from our skins at the end of the day. Never more than three sips at a go, relish it before you swallow.’

‘What about attacks by raiders, barbarians?’ one of the monks wanted to know.

‘We’re a good-sized caravan but with an escort to match. No band of raiders is likely to trouble us, but they might if they’re desperate. If it happens, we’ll have the camels form a circle and get down, you stay behind them while our archers and cavalry deal with ’em. Don’t stray or run, stay until we give the word.’

Su continued. ‘So where are we going? This is the start of the southern caravan route. The first stop is Dunhuang, then we’ll be keeping close to the mountains all the way to Khotan. It won’t be pleasant but believe me it’s better than the northern route across the desert!’

‘What will it be like for us?’

‘Going’s good, if that’s what you mean. Plenty of water from snowmelt off the Kunluns but pretty bare else. Sooner we get through the better.’

One of his crew signalled to him.

‘We’re ready to move out. Remember what I’ve just said. The season’s advanced but we’re on time. Should have a good run.’

His confidence was reassuring and they mounted up quickly.

Soon the camel train was moving out, every pace setting more distance from civilisation, the world of men and order – deeper into an arid wasteland. A few heads turned back to catch a last glimpse of the Jade Gate, now a forlorn outpost in a sea of desert.

The sun reached its zenith and they plodded on. It began to descend but before the usual violet dusk of the desert stole in, Su had found his place for
the night; a twist of sand and rock that had given shelter for a line of grey-green camel thorn and a flat area to settle.

A fire was quickly started and the well-practised routines of preparing for the night were begun. In respect for the cold of the desert nights Nicander and Marius had now accepted a tent.

This evening seemed in some way different. Was it the certain knowledge that they were utterly alone at the empty heart of the universe? That they would meet no others until they reached the next oasis?

The fire flared and spat but already people were moving to be near it, as all around the darkness fell silently and completely.

‘Korkut
sheng
, where is your wife?’ Nicander said, needing to reach out.

‘As always, she paints her face as if she’s to meet the king of the fairies the next hour. She’ll be here – if only to hear the gossip.’ The burly merchant’s face was impassive as it was lit by the firelight.

‘Well, Ya? Your men are posted?’ Korkut asked.

The commander of the escort, a self-important and opinionated ex-soldier of obscure origins, was condescending to sit with the travellers instead of his customary holding court in his own tent.

‘Of course.’

Nicander found it difficult to follow the thick accent; the man was reputedly a Uighur due to his almost Western features – and brutal treatment of his men.

Zarina stepped into the firelight in a profusion of fur and exuberantly coloured leggings. ‘Good evening, everyone!’ she beamed, and took up position next to her husband.

‘Good to see you in spirits,
habib
,’ he said, helping to arrange her cloak.

‘Yes, dear. I’m always feeling better when I have so many big men about to protect me. You know the desert frightens me.’

‘As I keep telling you, demons are terrified by fire – as long as those lazy beggars keep it going you’ve nothing to worry about.’

‘Oh? You men never stop to think what it is for us ladies. What if we have to go out into the dark to … you know … what then?’

‘Then, beloved, it is clear I must go with you, whatever your business.’

There was laughter but it tailed off as a figure came out of the blackness, moving gracefully towards them.

It was Ying Mei.

No one spoke as she entered the firelight and looked about uncertainly.

Until now she had kept to herself, taking her meals in her carriage and seldom seen.

She was in a plain robe and held a shawl close.

Seeing Nicander she went to him. ‘May I sit with you, Ni
lao na
?’ she asked in an even tone, her elegant poise not out of place at a court reception.

Thunderstruck at being addressed directly for the first time, he stood up. ‘Why, of course, Lady P’eng.’

Tai Yi silently appeared with a travelling cushion.

Nicander took his place again slowly, aware that not a word had been spoken by the others. Ying Mei sat next to him, looking modestly into the fire.

What did it mean?

Zarina smiled at Ying Mei. ‘You’ll have had a dusty ride in the carriage, my dear. How do you keep yourself so …?’ The well-meant opening faltered at the realisation that she had forgotten the complex honorific due a lady – who of course in any event was not to be troubled with such trivialities.

‘A woman’s appearance is her chief ornamentation, without which pearls and gold lose their meaning,’ was the quick reply. ‘As your own appearance and dress does so well confirm. It is our duty to the world, is it not?’

‘If it please you, Lady P’eng, we’ve been concerned you’ll suffer much in this journey,’ Korkut said awkwardly. ‘It must be for some very important reason, I fear.’

His wife glared at him but Ying Mei answered in the same quiet, level voice. ‘I’m called to my father in Aksu who lies ill. I shall obey him, I believe.’

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Korkut said hastily with a quick wink at Zarina. ‘We understand.’

A familiar bong started up at the kitchen and before long a steaming wheel-sized platter arrived. Nicander pulled out his bowl. The serving man
hesitated then humbly went over to Ying Mei and offered the dish, kneeling with his head bowed.

‘Thank you,’ she said equably and reached out delicately with her chopsticks. Selecting a choice collop of mutton she offered it to Nicander.

He could hardly believe it. This was a common gesture of politeness in Chinese society – but among equals. Was this …

Ying Mei then did the same for Marius and Tai Yi as well, before helping herself.

Nicander struggled to make sense of what was happening. Was it because her self-imposed isolation in this vast emptiness was no longer bearable and she was craving warmth and fellowship? Had the Ice Queen melted? He didn’t know whether to be relieved or scornful. But how far did it go?

‘It must have felt quite a wrench to leave China?’ he said.

‘Yes.’ Her expression was composed but she did not catch his eye.

‘I suppose you’re wondering when you’ll hear proper Chinese again,’ he continued.

She froze – and he saw that her eyes were glistening.

He tried to make light of it. ‘But not before we’ve had a few more interesting adventures, I’d say.’

‘I’d call ’em more trials,’ rumbled Korkut, tucking into more mutton. ‘The stretch between Cherchen and Niya is particularly bad. I remember when—’

‘Are you not feeling well, dear?’ Zarina said in sudden concern, looking at Ying Mei.

She got up and went to her, squeezing her shoulder gently but Ying Mei did not respond, and held herself rigid.

‘The first time’s always hard. Leaving behind—’

‘Thank you, Korkut
tai tai,
’ Tai Yi said, helping Ying Mei to her feet. ‘The Lady P’eng will now retire to rest.’ She shepherded her unresisting mistress away.

‘Odd sort of woman,’ Korkut muttered, picking at his teeth.

‘No she’s not!’ Zarina snorted. ‘The poor lamb – she’s homesick, that’s all.’