‘Drink this,’ he said. ‘I shall apply massage in a moment.’
For half an hour he massaged places correlating to the womb and conducive to sleep. Every so often he indicated to Old Hsu’s Widow that the towels should be changed. At last the flow of blood slowed. Cao fell into a restless doze then a profound sleep.
Shih sat beside her for a while, looking at her swollen belly.
At last he whispered to Old Hsu’s Widow: ‘Tell me if she wakes or the bleeding changes in any way.’ The grim look was back in his eyes. Again he indicated to Lu Ying she should follow him from the room.
‘Where is Lord Yun?’ he demanded, once the door was shut.
Lu Ying shook her head.
‘I do not know.’
‘I will find him.’
Shih strode into his father’s chamber. It stank in subtle, pervasive ways. Of unopened windows and chamber pots. Of endless days and nights spent waiting for Bayke – and chewing the bitter roots of a thousand imagined insults and wrongs.
Shih looked down contemptuously at the bowl of fishes, his father’s familiars. He kicked it so savagely the earthenware broke in two. Water rushed over the floor and tiny grey fish flapped helplessly.
‘Dr Shih!’ cried Lu Ying, who had followed him. ‘You will frighten Madam Cao!’
He thrust her aside and climbed the ladder-stairs to the tower room. The shutters were closed and at first he could not see clearly. At last he spied a figure on a low stool in the shadows, apparently meditating.
‘Bayke has sent you!’ Lord Yun’s drawl was forced. ‘I knew he would.’
Shih walked over to the shutters, throwing them open one by one, until light filled the wide room. Lord Yun blinked at the sudden brightness of morning and covered his eyes. Dr Shih stared at the old man in wonder, as though seeing him for the first time. Could this man really be his Honoured Father? Or Guang’s? Perhaps Lord Yun sensed his repulsion and wished to defy it, for a look of icy contempt crossed his face.
‘My wife is bleeding downstairs,’ said Shih. ‘She is carrying the heir our ancestors crave. Do you feel no shame?’
Lord Yun looked puzzled.
‘She is not carrying your child,’ he said. ‘You are impotent as a eunuch. In any case, you are not my son.’
Abruptly, the old man grew agitated.
‘Guang is my son! I have no son but Guang! Do not come near me!’
But Shih did step closer.
‘If anything happens to my wife or unborn child. . .’ His threat dangled. He became aware that Lu Ying had climbed into the room after him.
‘Come away, Dr Shih!’ she urged. ‘I am sure Lord Yun wished only to stop me from calling out. Oh, I have never seen you like this! Please, come away and sit with your wife!’
Dr Shih did not seem to hear. He turned back to Father and took yet another step closer, his fists bunched.
‘You have ruined half my life,’ he said. ‘If my wife bleeds to death or my child. . .’ He could not finish the thought, too dreadful to be spoken aloud. Perhaps he feared demons would hear the violent promptings of his soul.
‘Get away, you devil!’ screeched Lord Yun, shrinking back in his chair. ‘Guang! Save me!’
‘Be quiet, you will frighten Cao!’
‘Get away!’
Shih’s arm, as though controlled by something outside himself, swung back in preparation for a slap. A blow that would have cost his life, for striking a parent was a capital crime. He was saved by a parade ground bellow from the stairs.
‘You will
not
!’
Shih went limp. Guang, still dressed for battle, climbed into the room. His armour, repaired many times, showed fresh signs of damage. His helmet had taken a dint and a lotus-shaped bruise disfigured one cheek. Now Lord Yun crowed with delight.
‘You see! I have summoned my real son. He always comes when I need him! Guang, punish this devil! Throw him down the stairs!’
Yet Guang had taken Shih’s arm. His brother was sobbing painfully.
‘You saw!’ continued Lord Yun. ‘He meant to hit me! I told you he was not my real son. All those years ago, I told you.
Throw him down the stairs, Guang!’
The soldier seemed near the point of exhaustion. He stepped over to the table Shih used for the preparation of medicines and sat down heavily. Then he removed sword and scabbard from his belt, casting them onto the wooden boards with a loud clatter. Dagger and gauntlets followed.
‘Father,’ he said, finally. ‘Enough.’ His voice was calm.
‘Yes!’ urged Lord Yun. ‘Do as I command. That is a true son’s duty.’
‘Father,’ said Guang. ‘You know quite well you have two sons. The Eldest you repudiated because. . . Oh, I cannot say why! I dare not, Father, for I suspect it diminishes all your honour! As for the Youngest –
me
– you gave him a fine hat that has never fitted his head.’
Guang’s eyes did not shift from the old man’s face.
‘Do not betray me like the others!’ gasped Lord Yun.
‘Oh, Father! If you do not admit right now that you have two sons, I shall walk from this room and tell all the honourable men of my acquaintance that I am to be called Youngest Son from now on.’
‘You would not dare!’
Guang laughed.
‘You would not throw away the title to Wei Valley!’ con -
tinued Lord Yun. ‘You would not!’
‘That title is nothing now. In any case, I renounce whatever false claim I once had to it.’
The old man’s confidence drained. His face was very red. He seemed to have trouble breathing and began to scrabble at his left arm as though in pain.
‘I admit there were two,’ he whispered. ‘Two identical husks of rice!’
‘Who was the eldest husk, Father?’ asked Guang.
‘Why, you! You are my chosen heir!’
Guang turned to Shih, who had stood throughout this debate with a lowered head. Then he glanced back at Lord Yun: ‘No, Father, I am
not
the eldest husk.’
Lord Yun’s breathing was heavier. Sweat appeared on his forehead. He began to pull more fiercely at his stiffening arm.
Now Shih stirred, examining the old man’s complexion with alarm.
‘Father is not well,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps if I took his pulse? Something is not right.’
Guang waved him aside angrily
‘In front of witnesses, I declare that Dr Yun Shih is the rightful heir to Wei Valley!’
‘I am a good man.’ moaned Lord Yun.
A deep silence followed. Time became a doorway through which the Yun clan’s fortunes must step one way or the other.
Guang went over to the window and looked down on the people gathered in Apricot Corner Court. Their upturned faces stared in surprise at the warrior leaning out of the window towards them. There was little doubt they had heard every word of the preceding conversation.
‘Let all our neighbours know!’ he roared. ‘A mistake has been made!’ Then he laughed oddly. ‘Caused by bad astrologers. Yun Shih is Eldest Son and I am Little Brother!
Pass the message that Captain Xiao honours Dr Yun Shih as Eldest Brother!’
Guang pulled back his head and said almost hysterically: ‘It cannot be unsaid now! I am free of that lie!’
His triumph faltered. Lord Yun had fallen from the chair and was in Shih’s arms. The old man gazed glassily into space.
‘He has had these fits before,’ muttered Shih. ‘Sometimes if he has taken too much medicine by mistake. . . We shall carry him to bed.’
Several burly men were needed to achieve this. Then, before the magnitude of Guang’s declaration could strike Shih, he was summoned to attend Cao.
It was late afternoon when he emerged and stepped into his father’s room. The smashed bowl still lay on the floor, surrounded by dead demon-fishes. Lord Yun lay on his back, blinking at the ceiling.
Old Hsu’s Widow popped her head into the corridor:
‘Madam Cao’s flood has come early,’ she whispered. ‘Dr Shih, fetch the midwife. Fetch her at once.’
Then hooves were striking the baked earth of the street.
There was a hasty knock on the door and a messenger called out for Commander Yun Guang to arm himself.
*
Captain Xiao had often derided the Mongol artillery’s best efforts – but he was cowering now. Every few minutes the enormous catapults facing the Gate of Revealed Splendour in Fouzhou gracefully released their missiles. Enormous stone boulders curved up and just as remorselessly span down towards the ramparts. They seldom missed their target. The artillerymen summoned from the West by their Great Khan had found the range now. Their weapons appalled the city’s defenders. Many believed they were operated by demons.
No catapult in the Empire’s long history had possessed the power to destroy city walls. These monsters, with their vast height and system of weights, unleashed the careless strength of gods.
Guang watched from a high temple pavilion within the ramparts and thought the hundreds swarming round the machines were human enough. The problem was reaching them. The Mongols could only be attacked by the largest of the defenders’ siege crossbows and these remained across the river in Nancheng at the Pacification Commissioner’s express command.
A stout figure climbed up the spiral stairs to join Guang. It was Chen Song, who had dashed across the Floating Bridge and Fouzhou to get here. As they watched, another huge missile curved towards the Gate of Revealed Splendour, the principal entry-point into Fouzhou. Down, down it fell, striking the centre of the fortifications with an echoing crash.
Clouds of dust and masonry rose. There was a loud sound of tearing wood, creaking stone. The centre of the Gate slowly collapsed in on itself, raising yet more dust.
‘A few more like that and the Gate will be rubble,’ said Guang. ‘And see! Tens of thousands of infantry are waiting for a chance to assault.’
Chen Song followed his gaze. Phalanxes of Mongols on foot, General A-ku’s most fearless, lined up patiently around scores of cloud ladders and mobile towers.
‘Are regiments from Nancheng making their way here?’ asked Guang. ‘We must have reinforcements now.’
The expression on Chen Song’s face answered that question.
Both men had fought against the Mongol night attack the previous evening. The fall of Fouzhou had come surprisingly near. Not only did the enemy know the most unprotected sections of the ramparts, but the same problem of reinforcements forced the defenders to show desperate resolve. At last General Zheng Shun had disobeyed the Pacification Commissioner’s orders, appearing with five thousand soldiers from Nancheng. The Mongols withdrew, allowing the exhausted defenders of Fouzhou a respite. Some whispered the Wang clan were exchanging messages with General A-ku in anticipation of defeat – and hastening it in exchange for favourable terms.
By now the dust was beginning to settle around the battered Gate of Revealed Splendour. Screams from the wounded contended with shouts of encouragement. Swarms of brave soldiers could be seen placing thick chains across breaches in the walls. Behind them, others attempted hasty repairs with buckets of stone and earth.
Unworthy thoughts whispered in Guang’s mind:
So long as
those I love do not perish, let Fouzhou fall. Let the Son of
Heaven be humbled, rather than lose those dear to me.
Traitor’s thoughts. Coward’s thoughts. He felt glad Chen Song was no Immortal capable of eavesdropping a man’s fears.
‘It cannot be long before they attack,’ said Chen Song. ‘The Gate of Revealed Splendour is not the only part of the ramparts they have damaged. That corner tower to the south has almost entirely collapsed.’
‘The Jade Emperor has abandoned us,’ muttered Guang. ‘Let it just rain as it should! Heaven itself conspires against us. As though His Highness is no longer Heaven’s Son, as though the Mandate of Heaven has been withdrawn.’
Chen Song stepped back in horror. A look of haughty disdain crossed his features.
‘I take it you are unwell,’ he said, stiffly. ‘I advise you to leave such nonsense to your patron, Wang Bai, and those like him. I am going to join General Zheng Shun in the lanes below.’
He departed with a clatter of boots. Guang was left alone, shame-faced at his weakness. What had gripped him? To talk like a fearful woman, to question what is eternal! Then Guang sensed the problem – as one might a question of baffling complexity, too hard to even attempt – love was threatening to confound itself, if that was what he truly felt. By loving a woman, he risked losing the resolve needed to protect her. And hundreds of thousands like her throughout the Empire.
More boulders landed on the Gate of Revealed Splendour.
Dust rose like a pillar of smoke. Drums could be heard, signalling the Mongol attack.
What was he doing up here, watching instead of fighting! He could see Chen Song hurrying up the street to join the battalions General Zheng Shun had marshalled, ready for a desperate counter-attack. Yet assisting Zheng Shun did not seem dangerous enough to atone for his moment of cowardice.
Was he not Captain Xiao? Even if, thanks to Wang Ting-bo’s folly, they lacked sufficient men, he would take a last stand on the Gate of Revealed Splendour and hold the Mongols back by himself until reinforcements arrived from Nancheng!
Two hours later Guang stood with Chen Song in Fouzhou’s great central market square, deep in the city. Once merchants had thronged here, selling goods from every circuit of the Empire. Now the square was bare, the trestle tables long ago used for firewood and siege defences.
Guang was grey with dust, darkened by crimson patches of blood – not his own this time. Chen Song had also seen close action. His ornate halberd was broken and he carried only sword and bow.
‘Where is the relief column?’ asked Chen Song. ‘If they come soon we might yet drive them back and out of the city.’
‘What of Zheng Shun?’ asked Guang. ‘When did you last see him?’
‘Surrounded on all sides, but still fighting.’
The two officers had rallied a few hundred men. It was Guang’s idea to use the open market square as a killing ground.
Chen Song, however, was all for retreating to the Floating Bridge.
‘If Fouzhou falls,’ he urged. ‘We must prevent the enemy from crossing to Nancheng.’
A madness had gripped Guang since their conversation in the tower. No risk seemed great enough. No casualties were significant – as long as the Mongols were matched corpse for corpse.