The Mandate of Heaven (61 page)

Lamps burned late in Wild Goose Pavilion. For Worthy Master Jian was composing desperate letters of his own.

Hou-ming City, 8
^th
Day, 9
^th
Month, 1322

Midnight on Monkey Hat Hill: the night warm and stars vivid; the woods and ruined mansions steeped with shadows. A gentle sound like sighing surf washed over the hill when a breeze arose from the lake. Stray, sapless leaves drifted down. Then the fitful silence of night resumed.

The city at the foot of Monkey Hat Hill was silent now, the authorities having succeeded in enforcing their curfew – temporarily, at least. People waited in the brooding night for what daylight must bring: war, battle, death for victor and loser alike. This balmy autumn night was the last many would ever know.

Not all the shadows on Monkey Hat Hill were motionless. Two folded themselves into the darkness beneath a pine tree as a boy ran down the Hundred Stairs, a letter in his hand. Barefoot and nimble, he leapt the worn stairs two at a time as Teng and Hsiung had done when lads. In a moment he vanished into the night.

‘That same boy accompanied Abbess Yun Shu and Bo-Bai when they returned to the monastery not so long ago,’ came a cultured voice from behind the pine trunk.

‘He’s carrying a message,’ replied a gruff, low voice.

‘Of course, and probably from the Abbess herself. The question is where. And to whom.’ After a brooding pause the cultured voice broke out, ‘Why did you stop me from speaking to her?’

The owner of the gruff voice stirred impatiently. ‘It might get us killed.’

Teng and Shensi lapsed into their anxious vigil at the foot of the Hundred Stairs. From this vantage point they could spy upon anyone climbing Monkey Hat Hill, allowing plenty of time to take up position in a nearby garden. If Teng’s predictions were correct they would not have to wait long – and that suited his feelings exactly. He found it painful to stand here, knowing Deng Mansions – reduced to a twisted, charred pile of beams and ash – no longer existed to shelter him or his clan’s spirits in their ancestral shrine.

Further up the hill in Cloud Abode Monastery, Father would be asleep or meditating upon inner pictures. Since arriving back in Hou-ming, Teng had not dared make his presence known to anyone, not even Deng Nan-shi or Yun Shu, lest they were under observation by spies. Instead he had concealed himself in an old overgrown mansion recollected from childhood while Shensi entered the city, seeking reliable information.

There were other reasons for not risking a message to Yun Shu. Part of him feared her reply. What was he but an impoverished scholar, little better than a beggar? He could offer her nothing but fine words. Besides, no firm understanding existed between them. His imagination might be tricking him about her feelings.

‘I wonder who that boy was taking the message to,’ he mused aloud.

The destination Teng had in mind stirred old jealousies. He feared it was Worthy Master Jian. A love letter or tender message for the Daoist priest’s welfare perhaps – a concern more physical than spiritual. Oh, he knew very well what ‘exercises’ were in the bamboo books.

Teng struggled to master such thoughts. ‘Who do you think she was sending the message to, Shensi?’

The old tomb-finder grunted. ‘Not important.’

‘It is to me.’

‘No more talk.’

Their original plan had been to find a means of using the small junk provided by Liu Shui to spirit Deng Nan-shi to the safety of rebel-held Lingling – an endeavour more easily imagined than accomplished. Government warships were everywhere on the lake, stopping and searching merchant vessels. They had been forced to hole up for days in an estuary to avoid the attention of paddlewheel destroyers sailing back and forth.

Teng, however, had unexpected allies, for Liu Shui had assigned well-armed and reliable men to protect Yueh Fei’s priceless descendents. These fanatical followers of the rebel cause had given Shensi the confidence to plan an ambush he could never have contemplated with just Teng by his side. For that reason he and the scholar waited in darkness, swords to hand, while three warriors lurked in a nearby garden – the same garden Yun Shu had played in as a little girl when her father and Golden Lotus lived on Monkey Hat Hill. Somewhere in the woods a wild dog barked.

‘Are you sure they’ll come tonight?’ asked Shensi, gloomily.

‘You must have a little faith,’ replied Teng. ‘Remember the letter. And, of course, their inordinate greed. Oh, they’ll come.’

The letter in question had been found shortly after their flight from Chenglingji in Chao and Hua’s private junk. The captain, an old intimate of the spymasters, claimed to have no knowledge of the letter’s contents, just that he had been ordered to deliver it to a gentleman in Hou-ming. Conveniently, he didn’t know the gentleman’s name either. Dangling his head in the lake while Shensi held his ankles refreshed the captain’s memory. ‘Salt Minister Gui!’ he spluttered. Another dipping revealed this was one of many letters delivered to that party.

Upon breaking the wax seal, Teng discovered the document was written in code. Ever since he was a boy, Teng had liked puzzles and ciphers and mental challenges that offered a chance to confirm his superior faculties. Common scum like Chao and Hua could never devise a code too difficult for a trained scholar. As their junk sailed towards Hou-ming, he had used every waking hour to unpick the code. Once deciphered, the letter surprised even him.

‘
Salt Minister Gui
,’ he had translated in a pedantic, triumphant voice to Shensi. ‘
We have had no confirmation you received our last message
. Mark that, Shensi! Their correspondence is no new thing. Clearly Chao and Hua are traitors. And no doubt Ying-ge is an accomplice.
Red (yes). Blue (no)
. A password or signal …
We will honour our offer to meet you at midnight of the 8
^th
day, 9th month, in the house you once showed us. In case you do not arrive like last time, we mean the house below the ruins of Deng Mansions. We beg you to join us at the exact centre of the garden
. Note the preciseness of their instructions. They don’t trust our dear Salt Minister and who can blame them? Clearly their business transactions have not been satisfactory! Now we come to it:
Do not forget the great reward you promised us. Think how we have earned it a hundred times over
. Ah, they really don’t trust him! It is signed:
Ox and Snake
. Little difficulty guessing who is the ox and who the snake, eh? Tell me you aren’t impressed, Shensi!’

Teng had beamed expectantly. The former tomb-finder scowled. ‘We never got our share of the dead prince’s treasure from Chao and Hua. Now they’ll pay.’

‘Do you mean to blackmail them?’ asked Teng, in alarm. ‘That is not possible. We must warn Hsiung! Prince Arslan knows all about his plans. He may be sailing into a trap. Surely he will postpone his attack on Hou-ming now.’

‘No blackmail,’ replied Shensi.

‘What then?’

‘I mean to kill them.’

* * *

That was why they waited on Monkey Hat Hill at midnight of the 8
^th
Day of the 9
^th
Month. To kill Chao and Hua. And why the junk intended to carry Deng Nan-shi to safety had been sent back to Chenglingji with a warning for Hsiung. Teng’s hope was that it reached the rebel fleet before any trap set by the Mongols snapped shut.

They took up position in a thicket of rhododendrons overhung by an ancient pawlonia tree. The gardens had reverted to young woodland in the twenty years since Salt Minister Gui and his household left for the security of Prince Arslan’s compound. No one except wild animals and birds came there now.

As Teng had predicted, they did not wait long. One of the bodyguards assigned by Liu Shui appeared by their side.

‘They’re here,’ he murmured. ‘The two Ministers and four guards, that’s all. They carry lots of bags as though they’ve just arrived in the city and come straight here. Ministers Chao and Hua are on their way to the gardens now with a lantern. They’ve left their men at the gatehouse.’

Teng’s breath quickened. He felt an intense discomfort in his bowels. It had been one thing to threaten revenge: securing it was quite another, especially with a sword he had never used in anger. Luckily, their own bodyguards were formidable fighters.

‘Are the Ministers armed?’ he asked, ashamed of the squeak in his voice.

Shensi ignored him: ‘You three surprise the guards they left by the gatehouse. Not one must escape.’

The rebel soldier nodded. Teng immediately detected a flaw in Shensi’s plan. ‘If our own men do that, who remains to subdue the Ministers?’ he asked.

Again he was ignored.

‘Don’t attack the four guards until you hear fighting in the garden,’ said Shensi. ‘That’ll be us. Bring us their heads as proof.’

The soldier saluted with two fists pressed together. A rustle of leaves and he vanished into the darkness to find his comrades. Shensi quietly drew his long sword and Teng did likewise. Then they froze. A light had appeared at the entrance to the garden.

‘Is he there?’ called out Chao in a brash, thick voice. ‘He’d better be this time!’

Teng had seen Chao drunk so many times he could not mistake the signs. Beside him, Shensi stirred with anticipation.

‘Quieter, you fool!’ That was Hua.

‘Why?’ jeered his partner. ‘There’s nothing but mice to be afraid of here. No one can hear us.’

‘Even so,’ replied Hua, ‘we should be careful.’

‘It’s that damned lunatic Gui with his crazy little he-whore who should be careful. If he doesn’t pay us what we agreed, I’ll …’

‘Shut up! You should never have drunk that brandy. What if he hears.’

They came into view, heading for the paved area in the garden’s centre overlooked by the rhododendrons where Teng and Shensi lurked. Both spies were dressed in plain travelling clothes, Chao carrying a flickering oil lamp while Hua held a bag close to his chest as though afraid of dropping it. Close up, Teng was alarmed by Chao’s broad-chested bulk. If it came to a fight he had little doubt who would triumph. At least Hua, though wiry, was small. In addition, he was out of breath from carrying the heavy bag. Teng wondered how he could arrange a brief trial of these two criminals – with himself in the role of judge, of course. He suspected Shensi had other notions of justice.

‘Where is he?’ demanded Chao. ‘That abacus he’s always clicking gives me the creeps. It’s like he’s counting dead souls.’

‘He will come.’

‘Why should he?’ asked Chao. ‘I told you not to give him the information before we got paid. This is your fault.’

‘By tomorrow we’ll be rich enough to set ourselves up as lords,’ said Hua.

‘So you say. Why hasn’t Gui replied to your last few letters?’

‘Because it was too dangerous. He chose not to take the risk.’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Chao. ‘There’s another thing you haven’t considered. What if the Noble Count wins his glorious battle tomorrow?’

‘Then we leave Hou-ming Province with all we’ve got off him – and that’s a lot – and set up elsewhere as wealthy merchants. So I, at least,
have
considered it.’

‘Consider
this
!’ The battlecry belonged to Shensi. He leaped out of the rhododendrons and brought down his sword on Chao’s shoulder while the drunken man looked round in confusion. A bellow rose into the night. The lamp swung at Shensi, forcing him to dodge. Sparks and burning oil flared. Then Chao, clutching his wound, disappeared into the darkness, shouting for help.

‘He’s mine!’ cried Shensi. ‘You take the other.’

With that he was gone, leaping round a corner of the path towards the abandoned house. By now Hua had drawn his sword and stood looking for attackers. Aware all surprise had gone, Teng stepped from the concealment of the bushes.

‘Lesser Minister Hua,’ he said, ‘I advise you to throw aside your weapon. I promise a fair hearing, though I suspect you wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to me.’

If he expected Hua to obey this eminently reasonable command – and he did – Teng was instantly disappointed.

‘Who else is with you?’