TUN-HUANG (14 page)

Hsing-te liked Yen-hui. He was without doubt incompetent as a political leader, and was of such a faint-hearted, nervous temperament that he had declared vassalage when he had felt threatened.

On the other hand, there was something genuine and single-minded about him. Hsing-te liked Yen-hui’s smile. His loose skin would crease slowly, and gradually the joy in his heart would reach his eyes and mouth. It reminded Hsing-te of the smile of an innocent child.

Hsing-te’s liking for Yen-hui had led him to agree to Yen-hui’s plan so that the joy would be evident on his face again.

Hsing-te returned to headquarters and spoke to Wang-li about the matter, and Wang-li quickly replied. “You should do it. I don’t understand anything about the project, but if it’s nothing harmful, go ahead and help him.”

“But even if we try, I couldn’t do it alone. I would need several people with quite a bit of education to help out.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you get some people and have them work with you?”

“I think such people are only found in Hsing-ch ing,” Hsing-te said.

“Then go to Hsing-ch’ing and get them.” Wang-li spoke as if this were a simple matter.

It was not easy to get to Hsing-ch’ing, but Hsing-te knew several people there who were capable of translating Chinese sutras into Hsi-hsia. He could think of several such men even now. They were all Chinese who had worked with him on the Hsi-hsia dictionary.

At the beginning of May, Hsing-te prepared to leave for Hsing-ch’ing. He also wrote several documents to present in the names of Yen-hui and Wang-li. However, a definite departure date had not yet been set. Hsing-te had to wait until troops began to travel east from Kua-chou.

One day in the middle of May, Hsing-te was summoned by Yen-hui. When he arrived at the palace, Yen-hui told him, “There is a Sha-chou trader named Wei-ch’ih Kuang. He says he’s going to Hsing-ch’ing, so why not go with him?”

Hsing-te didn’t know what type of person Wei-ch’ih Kuang was, but he thought it rash for a man to take a caravan from Kua-chou to Hsing-ch’ing when the Hsi-hsia and the Turfans were at war. Nevertheless, Hsing-te decided he would at least meet the man. Yen-hui knew little about him.

Next day, Hsing-te went to visit Kuang in the hostel area by the South Gate. He was out when Hsing-te arrived at his inn, but learning that he would soon return, Hsing-te stood on the corner of a narrow, dirty alley and waited for him.

Kuang, who eventually appeared, was a tall, lanky, dark-complexioned young man with keen eyes. He seemed about thirty years of age. At first he had no idea why Hsing-te had come to see him, and he spoke guardedly. “You’re one of the occupation troops, aren’t you? What do you want with me?”

“I heard about you from the governor,” Hsing-te replied.

“I’m not afraid of the governor. I have a perfectly valid traveler’s permit. If you have some business with me, get it over with. I’m so busy, I haven’t time to think!”

It was an acrimonious greeting. Hsing-te realized that this was an impatient man, and so he quickly told him that he wanted to travel with his caravan to Hsing-ch’ing.

“Is this on Hsi-hsia army orders or the governor’s orders?” the young man asked.

“From both,” Hsing-te replied.

“It’s my policy not to have anyone travel with me. If your orders were from just one of them, either the Hsi-hsia army or the governor, I wouldn’t dream of taking you, but since they are from both, I suppose I can’t refuse. It’s a lot of trouble, but I’ll have to take you along. We’re leaving at dawn the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow night, get ready, and come here around the time the moon rises.”

Then Kuang added roughly that if Hsing-te traveled with his caravan he would have to accept all his orders. And he’d better be prepared to comply.

The next day Hsing-te went to Wang-li’s mansion to take leave of him. As soon as Wang-li saw him, he told Hsing-te that because of him he had had to give up enough weapons for twenty people. At first Hsing-te had no idea what he meant, but it slowly dawned on him that Kuang had come to Wang-li and demanded weapons for twenty men in return for taking Hsing-te with him.

“I liked that reckless young fellow. That’s why I agreed. You will be treated respectfully by them,” Wang-li said.

While he was out, Hsing-te went to see Yen-hui, and there, too, he found that Kuang had preceded him. In Yen-hui’s case, Kuang had not asked for arms, but had requested fifty camels instead, “for official business.”

Yen-hui had agreed and had gone through the proper channels to provide them. Yen-hui also spoke in the same vein as Wang-li. “You should be able to travel in comfort and take a back seat to no one. Kuang has fifty camels of his own, and since he has got an additional fifty for nothing, he should take very good care of you.”

But Hsing-te remembered Kuang’s belligerent look. No matter how much anyone paid Kuang, no one could erase the sharpness from his eyes.

That night Hsing-te, followed by two soldiers carrying his baggage, went to the appointed place. In a few moments Kuang appeared, took the baggage from the two men, and handed it to the camel drivers. He said curtly to Hsing-te, “Follow me,” and started to walk away. Hsing-te dismissed the two soldiers and followed Kuang, his shoes sinking into the desert sand as he walked. Although it was May, the bitter cold of the night air was piercing.

As he walked, Hsing-te wondered just where Kuang came from. His facial structure was different from the Chinese, the Uighurs, the Turfans, and other westerners whom Hsing-te had come across. Kuang spoke the local Chinese dialect. As they walked down the dark road along the city wall, Hsing-te could not check his curiosity and asked, “Where were you born?”

Kuang stopped, looked back and replied, “I am Wei-ch’ih Kuang.” He pronounced each word distinctly as though he were warning Hsing-te.

“I know your name. I just asked you what country you were born in.”

Kuang shouted harshly, “Fool! Don’t you understand when I say Wei-ch’ih? No one outside the Wei-ch’ih royal house of Khotan has that name. My father was a member of royalty!” He resumed walking. “The Wei-ch’ih dynasty lost their struggle for power with Li. Right now, Li is king of Khotan, but my family is different from that plebian family.”

If he were telling the truth, it meant his father was Khotanese, but Kuang did not resemble any other Khotanese Hsing-te had known.

“What country did your mother come from?” asked Hsing-te.

“My mother? My mother was from the famous Fan family of Sha-chou. My mother’s father had several Buddhist caves dug in the Ming-sha mountains.”

“What do you mean, ‘had Buddhist caves dug’?”

Kuang stopped walking, turned around, and suddenly grabbed Hsing-te’s collar. Slowly tightening his grasp, he shouted, “To have Buddhist caves dug in the Ming-sha mountains is not easy. Only a very prominent man or a very wealthy one could undertake such a project. Remember this!”

Hsing-te felt he was being choked. As he gasped for air, he was also roughly shaken. Hsing-te tried to cry out, but he could not speak. Then he was pulled off his feet and lifted into the air; the next instant he fell to the ground, landing on his back. It was a soft fall, just as if he had been thrown on straw, and he was not hurt at all.

Hsing-te brushed off the sand and slowly got up. Perhaps it was because he felt no pain, but Hsing-te felt no antagonism toward Kuang.

Hsing-te said nothing and quietly followed Kuang. According to what he had just said, Kuang had Khotan and Chinese blood. Hsing-te thought that since the western Chinese had intermarried with many native tribes, Kuang was probably a mixture of various nationalities through his mother, aside from his father’s background. If so, it was not strange that his features and physique were unique.

The road running along the city wall seemed unending. As he plodded on in the dark, Hsing-te began to wonder whether it would ever end. Finally, however, the two men reached an area with more light. It was not really lit up, but at least Hsing-te could make out forms in the dim light.

Before him a narrow path stretched ahead, and on both sides were rows of low-roofed buildings, shaped differently from the civilian houses and surrounded by walls. Here and there in front of these buildings he could see a large number of animals moving. Hsing-te just stood there looking at the animals, and then gradually became aware of his surroundings. Kuang had disappeared, and Hsing-te realized he, too, must get out of the way; the number of animals coming out of the buildings was increasing every minute, and the enormous herd was moving slowly toward him.

Hsing-te was gradually pushed out into a large square beside the city wall by the herd of animals. He had not known until then that such a large square existed within the town. A large number of camels had been led there, and Hsing-te could now see ten or more strangely dressed men moving among the animals and loading them.

After some time, Hsing-te heard Kuang’s voice. His shouting could be heard off and on as he went among the men and animals. Hsing-te walked in the direction of the voice. As he didn’t want to lose sight of Kuang again, Hsing-te stayed beside him. Kuang spoke many languages. When he spoke in Uighur, Turfan, or Hsi-hsia, Hsing-te could understand, but he had no idea what the other tongues were. Whenever he heard a strange tongue, Hsing-te asked what language he was speaking. At first Kuang told him that it was the language of Khotan, or Lung, or Asha, but finally he seemed to lose patience and shouted, “Keep quiet, will you?” and grabbed Hsing-te by the collar again. As before, Hsing-te was lifted off the ground and thrown unceremoniously on the sand.

The moon had risen and lighted up the area. The hundred camels and the ten or so men, casting black shadows on the gray sand, continued loading throughout the long night.

There was nothing for Hsing-te to do. Leaving Kuang, he slowly walked among the camels and men to watch them work. He wondered what was in the packs. At times he was readily understood, but at other times the men could not understand him even after he had exhausted all the languages at his command. Even so, he did learn that these traders were going to transport jewels and Persian rugs, animal skins, cloth, spices from various western countries, seeds, and other things to the east.

When the hustle and bustle finally subsided and the loading seemed finished, Kuang’s booming voice, announcing their departure, resounded among the animals. The caravan opened the South Gate, which was normally bolted, and left the city. The hundred camels got into a single long line, and armed men on horseback were posted here and there. Hsing-te rode on a camel near the tail of the caravan.

“Where are my things?” he asked Kuang, who rode just in front of him.

“They’re loaded on the camel you’re on. If you ask me any more questions about your goods, you’re in for it!” Kuang yelled at him.

It was still some time before dawn, and the dim moon still cast its light on the vast plains.

It took fifty days for Kuang’s caravan to travel from Kua-chou to Hsing-ch’ing. While he had been living in Kua-chou, Hsing-te hadn’t known it, but throughout the western territories minor skirmishes were being fought between the Hsi-hsia and the Turfans. Whenever the caravan came upon fighting, the men either waited until the battle was over or detoured around it. Many days were thus wasted.

What surprised Hsing-te most about Kuang was that he had influence with both the Hsi-hsia and Turfan armies. As might be expected, Kuang avoided the battlefields when fighting was in progress, but when the two armies were facing each other without having begun the battle, Kuang would calmly ride through both army camps. Or he would travel between the two camps, his brightly dyed banner carried high, with the letter “Vai” on it, symbolizing Vaisravana, the guardian god of the Wei-ch’ih family, and signaling to everyone that he and his caravan were passing through. At such times, both armies would wait until the caravan had gone by and would then commence fighting.

Kuang was not particularly concerned with the skirmishes between the Hsi-hsia and the Turfans that blocked his way, but he was irritated when he had to pass through the various walled cities. At Su-chou, Kan-chou, and Liang-chou, Hsing-te noticed Kuang was in a very bad temper, ranting and raving. In each case, the caravan was kept waiting for two or three days until their traveling tax was cleared. Before the Hsi-hsia invasion, Kuang had paid Uighur officials only, but now not only did he have to pay the Hsi-hsia who had taken over but also the Uighur officials who still held real control. For that reason, the fifty cases of jewelry on the camels decreased by one-fifth.

During this long trip, Hsing-te became thoroughly familiar with the young caravan leader’s temperament, although they had been complete strangers at the beginning. Kuang was a man who would do anything for money. His profession was that of a trader, but in reality he was hardly less than a pirate or a blackmailer.

Whenever he found a small caravan, he would approach it with two or three of his men and, after some negotiation, return with all of the caravan’s goods. Hsing-te had a good view of these operations. Kuang always kept with him a few men from the Lung tribe, who lived in the mountains south of Sha-chou, and from the Asha tribe, who had settled west of Sha-chou; both were known as highwaymen.

Furthermore, Kuang seemed to fear nothing. There were things which angered him or annoyed him, but nothing seemed to arouse his fear. There was an arrogance about him which until the moment he died would not allow him to acknowledge the fact that death could come to him.

Hsing-te knew the attitude of this ruthless young man stemmed from pride in his family name. The brilliance of the Wei-ch’ih dynasty had now disappeared from the earth. The man could be either very courageous, or very cruel. There was no doubt that his pride in his royal background made him willful, even to the point of attacking other caravans in the desert. In deference to the power and glory of his ancestors, he could not be satisfied unless he took every last item from his victims.

Hsing-ch’ing had completely changed in the three years since Hsing-te had been there. The population of the city had increased tremendously. The shopping area was bustling—large new shops were continually being built—but the city had completely lost that ancient walled town tranquility it had possessed even three years before. This vitality had flowed beyond the walls, too, and a new settlement was being established near the eleven-storied North Pagoda. The area near the West Pagoda was no different, nor was the north-western sector, where Hsing-te had once lived in the temple.