Shih sat before the gatehouse on a three-legged stool. The street was quiet. The siege ordinances severely restricted trade and few found a reason to wander the city. At night a strict curfew was enforced.
He watched a ragged collection of undesirables being driven down the street: tinkers, travelling magicians, entertainers and itinerants of every kind, forced from the city in case they were spies. Plumed creatures no longer allowed a perch. They shuffled like weary beasts, eyes downcast.
When they had gone Shih felt a terrible sadness. Only last night he, too, had been forced to taste the bitterness of exile from a place he once believed safe.
The previous evening Dr Du Mau had graced the Relief Bureau, accompanied by a smooth-cheeked young man, a Dr Du Tun-i. The lad was little older than Chung. But while the apprentice was plump, Du Tun-i rose like a tall sapling, his doctor’s hat with its long ear flaps slightly too large for his head. He had a strangely angular face, all cheekbones and chin. Yet Du Mau announced that this young man, his nephew, had been temporarily appointed to oversee Dr Shih’s work as Bureau Chief, pending an official enquiry into missing medicines. His tone implied Dr Shih should consider himself lucky he had not been thrown in the Prefectural gaol – and that such an event was still probable if Dr Du Mau got his way.
In that moment ten years’ labour floated away like clouds!
Shih had sensed the pointlessness of arguing. He could not quite believe what was happening. After all, Dr Du Tun-i was only replacing him nominally – and temporarily. Indeed Shih had continued to direct cures for a hundred wounded men all that long night. His own misfortune seemed a small thing compared to losing one’s sight or limbs. Agonising deaths caused by poison arrows. He had returned home at dawn, stumbling through the grey morning light, driven by Guang’s warning that His Honour the Sub-prefect would surely inspect Apricot Corner Court that day.
Shih was saved from further speculation about the Relief Bureau by the arrival of a palanquin and entourage on North Canal Street. Others were also keeping watch from their gatehouses and within moments every courtyard on the street buzzed with alarm.
His Honour turned out to be a small, spare man with a lean face and bushy eyebrows. He led a party of officials and guards into Swifts-At-Sunset Court, emerging half an hour later with a prisoner, who was promptly dragged off to the Prefectural gaol.
‘Chung,’ called Shih, softly. ‘Tell everyone to gather round the apricot tree.’
His Honour processed over the humped canal bridge, his tasselled umbrella carried by a clerk. He paused outside Apricot Corner Court and Shih prudently sank to his knees. Dr Shih dared not lift his head as the official studied him impassively.
‘You there! Is this Apricot Corner Court?’
His accent suggested humble origins. Shih nodded.
‘Your name?’
‘Dr Yun Shih, sir!’
His Honour consulted a list. Evidently he did not connect the kneeling doctor with the saviour of Wang Ting-bo’s heir. Shih wondered if he should mention it.
‘Make way!’
Soon His Honour was inspecting the assembled people. His glance flickered over their bent heads to every corner of Apricot Corner Court.
‘There is no communal cooking fire set away from the buildings,’ he said.
No one had an answer to that.
‘Where are the buckets of sand? And the wet hempen cloths demanded by the ordinances? A single fire arrow could set your whole ward ablaze!’
‘Your Honour,’ said Shih. ‘If there is to be blame, let it fall on my shoulders.’
Potentially, blame meant a dozen lashes of the bamboo.
‘One would think this a nest of traitors!’ declared the official. ‘I have heard there are people with unorthodox views in this ward. Do any dwell here?’
Widow Mu was casting anxious glances at Old Hsu.
Certainly the fan-maker’s views were unorthodox and Shih realised a frightened accusation might billow from her lips. To forestall her, he rose from his knees.
‘Sir,’ he said, quietly. ‘Are you aware my eldest brother is Captain Xiao? There are no traitors here.’
Intakes of breath greeted his words. He had diminished His Honour’s face in notable ways: first by his tone, then by pointing out an ignorance. Lackeys looked away, pretending not to have heard.
‘Of course,’ blustered His Honour.
‘Forgive me, sir,’ said Shih. ‘I am foolish to mention what you already know.’
Slightly appeased, the official looked round for someone to humiliate. His eye found Old Hsu’s mocking expression.
‘Old fellow, you seem to have something to say for yourself,’
he growled. ‘Out with it!’
Again the residents of Apricot Corner Court held their breath. Such an invitation was like lighting a fire-lance –moments later it would discharge with a whoosh of smoke and flame. Old Hsu flushed and was about to speak when the side-door of Dr Shih’s house swung open.
Lord Yun emerged in a fine suit of silks, clutching his bowl of fishes. Water sloshed to the ground. His high cheekbones and balanced features denoted nothing but handsome nobility.
Lord Yun surveyed the official with brazen contempt.
‘Tell Khan Bayke I will defy him to my last breath!’ he shouted. ‘He shall have nothing more that is mine!’
Then the old man threw down the bowl so that it bounced on the earthen floor. Water spread out grasping fingers. Silver-bellied carp flapped helplessly, drowning in air. His Honour went pale, then very red.
‘What is this!’ he spluttered.
In a blur of motion Cao rushed to Lord Yun and bundled him back into the house. She moved so swiftly he was too surprised to resist. The door closed behind them. Silence in the courtyard, interrupted only by the dying exertions of the fish.
A breeze stirred the apricot tree.
‘Captain Xiao’s father,’ whispered Shih, conspiratorially. ‘A delicate family matter. Captain Xiao is most sensitive about it.’
Again His Honour bit back angry words. Defeated, he stalked to the gatehouse, Shih following deferentially. He had the uncomfortable thought that if Guang ever fell from grace, His Honour would make them pay for hiding behind the name of Captain Xiao.
‘A displeasing inspection,’ he grumbled. ‘Dr Yun Shih, I hold you directly responsible for the future conduct of Apricot Corner Court. If anything is amiss you must answer for it with the full force of the law. And let me assure you, I shall keep a close watch.’
Shih believed him. As His Honour the Sub-prefect departed, an angry bellow came from the house.
A clerk was left behind to teach the courtyard what must be done. He was quite as grim as his superior. First he recorded names and occupations, indicating that Chung and the other serviceable men were liable for conscription. Then he ordered everyone except Madam Cao to take buckets and dredge the canal for mud. Miserable work, but finally the roofs and buildings were covered with thick layers of silt, impervious to fire arrows.
Meanwhile, Shih and his wife stood in Lord Yun’s room, listening to a remarkable speech.
‘You! Yes, you!’
‘Father, calm yourself.’
‘Since you claim to be my son, I have a test. A son obeys his father in everything, is that not so?’
Cao and Shih glanced at each other.
‘Perhaps you require refreshment?’ offered Shih, hopefully.
‘One of my cordials perhaps?’
‘I require you to divorce this woman immediately! How dare she manhandle me! It is a crime.’
Indeed, by any interpretation of the law, laying hands on one’s father-in-law could be punished severely. Assuming Lord Yun brought an accusation, there was no shortage of witnesses – including His Honour the Sub-prefect. Shih told himself that given the city’s condition and Captain Xiao’s influence, no magistrate would be interested. But one day the Mongols would leave. Such a serious charge might be revived at any time. Cao, evidently shaken, hid her face. Shih laid a gentle hand on her arm.
‘Father will be pleased to learn I have ordered a new bowl of fish for him. . .’
‘Damn your fish!’ replied Lord Yun. ‘What use are demons if they do not aid me? I have heard enough of their tedious whispering! No, if you are my son you will divorce this woman today. I command you to marry that heavenly creature next door. She has the capacity to please me.’
‘Father is unwell,’ said Shih, severely. ‘I shall prepare something very calming.’
Even as he spoke, disreputable thoughts stirred. A father’s word in such matters held the weight of law. If he wished, he could obey and many would applaud his filial piety. As so often, the haunting image of Lu Ying, the flush of her cheeks and the promise of soft thighs, made his mind gulp for clean air.
As always, he despised his own feelings.
‘Father needs medicine,’ he muttered.
He led Cao to the shop and stared at the floor, unable to meet her eye.
‘Fetch me the tincture of poppy,’ he said, dully.
When he glanced up, his wife’s expression was anxious. She had glimpsed his doubt. Neither spoke as he prepared a remedy.
*
An hour later, Shih trailed through subdued streets towards the North Medical Relief Bureau. He had left Father slumped in a chair. Perhaps the old man would never awake. Certainly the medicine he had drunk was known to sometimes cause paralysis.
Dr Shih chafed inwardly at the prospect. Imagining such things, alongside all his other vile thoughts, surely proved his wickedness. Why else had Father banished him to the capital as a boy? Because he was deficient. Something wrong with him.
Though he tried so hard to be good, it counted for nothing.
Shih realised Chung was talking excitedly and forced himself to listen. The apprentice’s usual amiability was strained –clothes smeared with mud from dredging the canal, hair disordered. Exertion never brought out the best in Chung.
‘It is quite wrong, sir, quite wrong!’
‘What is?’
‘I have just explained that.’
Was that exasperation in Chung’s voice? Dr Shih met his eye.
He was in no mood for nonsense. The prospect of deferring to young Dr Du Tun-i filled him with disgust. It was not that the new Bureau Supervisor was malicious. His face shone with goodwill – as long as he felt himself treated with the diffidence and solemn respect his new position warranted. No, what angered Shih was the certain knowledge that Dr Du Tun-i’s skills were inadequate for healing those in the Relief Bureau’s care.
‘The official took my name for a conscript but I cannot join the militia, sir,’ continued Chung. ‘I’d do anything rather than join the militia.’
‘If you are summoned, then you must answer,’ said Shih.
‘None of us like the situation. Personally, I abhor it.’
‘I will do anything to avoid the militia,’ repeated Chung, doggedly. ‘Has not Madam Cao mentioned it?’
‘Mentioned what?’
‘Captain Xiao, Master! He could speak on my behalf.’
Shih recollected some talk of a petition.
‘That is hardly likely,’ he snapped. ‘With the enemy at our gates, Yun Guang has no time to visit his family, let alone compose petitions for apprentices.’
For a moment Chung seemed admonished, then he glowered.
‘I
do
expect it, sir. Did not Madam Cao explain?’
Shih stopped. They were in Xue Alley and he had no wish to be accosted by Carpenter Xue.
‘Chung, speak more plainly. What has Madam Cao to do with this?’
His apprentice’s tongue was out a little, as a child expresses fear. The youth’s behaviour had never been more ridiculous.
‘I do not like to say, sir. You have been very good to me. . .
But I cannot join the militia. I mean to say, I
know
.’
Chung looked at him significantly.
‘What on earth do you
know
?’
‘About. . . Did not Madam Cao say, sir?’
Chung was clearly in agony. Sweat shone on his plump face.
In more favourable times Shih might have been patient or curious. Now he scowled.
‘I mean, sir,’ said Chung. ‘I know things others would profit to hear.’
Shih had a strange thought his wife had been indiscreet. It was not a suspicion he cared to pursue. Chung was evidently referring to the charge of embezzlement at the Relief Bureau and old habits saved Shih from further speculation. He had long regarded his apprentice as an empty jug and took no notice when Chung struggled to pour.
‘Be quiet and follow me,’ he commanded. ‘Now is not the time for this.’
A few minutes later they reached the Relief Bureau.
Two soldiers were talking by the front entrance. One’s arm was in a sling and his friend offered a gift of late-blooming orchids, crimson streaked by yellow. Shih paused, glimpsing in those petals the civilization they were defending. Flower-lanterns the barbarians wished to extinguish forever.
He politely stepped round them and entered the surgery.
Here he found Mung Po tearing bandages from a hemp sheet.
The orderly’s weathered face broke into an expression of relief; then he glanced furtively around.
‘Where is our new superior?’ asked Dr Shih.
‘Dr Du Tun-i took one look at all the new patients then went back to his family across the river in Fouzhou. Where have you been, sir?’
‘Even I must go home sometimes,’ said Shih.
‘We’ve had a hard time. . . Well, you shall see. A hundred more were transferred here this morning.’
Shih hurried through the surgery into the courtyard. Every inch of the dirt floor was occupied by lines of wounded men on blankets. Between the lines were narrow passageways as one finds in a market. His trained nose detected the iron of blood, amidst pus and putridity. The whole courtyard swam with baleful miasmas. Such a reward for heroes seemed scandalous and wasteful. Could the city really squander its defenders so needlessly?
He bent down to examine a young man clutching his stomach and lifted the single blanket protecting him from the autumn chill. A few bloated flies rose angrily. The lad was gasping, staring up at the sky. Shih noticed a thin, watery excretion between the soldier’s legs and wrinkled his nose.
Glancing round the courtyard he looked for some sign of a latrine. Nothing. Those strong enough crawled or tottered from their blankets and relieved themselves against a wall. The rest soiled their beds.