She remained still, but a breath answered hers and a barely perceptible voice murmured, ‘Yun Shan . . .’
The girl’s head snapped up and she saw the foreigner turning his eyes to the martyred bodies of his fallen comrades.
‘My soldiers . . . my brothers. I vowed to bring them home, and I led them to death . . .’
Yun Shan felt tears rise to her eyes. ‘You’re alive . . .’ she whispered, passing her hand over his tumid features. ‘You’re alive . . .’
Metellus embraced her for an instant, letting the warmth of her body pervade his.
Yun Shan looked into his eyes. ‘We haven’t a moment to lose. Please, you must try to get up. We have to leave!’ She helped him to his feet and supported him for the few steps that separated them from the cart. She set him down gently and hid him under the bloody rags that had covered the cadavers.
Just then the gravedigger who was to bury the dead bodies approached. He dropped down behind a bush before anyone could see him, trembling with fear.
Yun Shan sensed a presence, but when she took the lantern and looked around, her other hand gripping her sword, she saw nothing. She grabbed the hat of one of the cart drivers and threw his cloak over her shoulders before urging on the mules.
The cart swayed and squeaked its way off, soon disappearing into the darkness.
The gravedigger, finally free to take a breath, ran as fast as his legs could carry him to report that a girl had killed two live men to carry off a dead one. Most thought him mad; someone else, on the other hand, took him seriously.
29
BAJ RENJIE WAS BROUGHT into the presence of regent Wei that evening by a dozen Manchurian mercenaries. The first things he saw were the instruments of torture, and the thought of the savagery of those skilled in inflicting pain made him tremble. He knew he was completely at the mercy of an extraordinarily intelligent and incredibly cruel enemy, a man who hated the world for what he had suffered. Waves of panic washed over him and he had to restrain himself from falling to his knees and begging for mercy.
‘Where are they headed?’ asked the eunuch.
Baj Renjie drew a long breath and then said, all at once: ‘I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.’
‘Then they’re making for Li Cheng.’
Baj Renjie did not answer.
‘And how does one get to Li Cheng?’ asked Wei, unperturbed.
Baj Renjie could very easily imagine the monsters that were crouching in the apparently immobile swamp of the eunuch’s soul. He called on his courage and said, ‘I do not know, and even if you torture me I cannot tell you what I do not know. None but the initiated members of the Red Lotus know where Li Cheng is.’
‘Do you take me for a fool?’ shouted Wei. ‘Even if you don’t know where Li Cheng is, I’m sure you know someone from the Red Lotus.’
‘Of course. But none of them has ever revealed the location of their hideaway. Much as your Flying Foxes won’t speak if they are captured.’
Wei bowed his head and the fact that he would not show his face deeply alarmed Baj Renjie. He tried to imagine what expression the eunuch would have when he looked up again. But at that moment one of Wei’s bodyguards walked in and, after prostrating himself, whispered something in his ear.
Wei raised his eyes and stared at Dan Qing’s officer with an icy look. ‘The body of the adversary that I defeated in the arena has been stolen . . . and two faithful servants of the country were indecently beheaded while they were attempting to give a decorous burial to those valiant barbarians. Can you explain why?’
Baj Renjie looked bewildered as the torturer took a step forward with every word that Wei uttered.
‘What it means, in all probability, is that he wasn’t dead, unfortunately. Otherwise why would he have been carried off?’ Baj Renjie couldn’t quite hide a scowl of disappointment.
‘I understand how you must feel,’ continued the eunuch. ‘Your prince preferred a foreigner over you. A barbarian come from far away, a stranger. Isn’t that so? I’ve been told that you regarded him with envy when he rode on Dan Qing’s right, in the position of honour. I’ve even heard say that he was not required to bow in the presence of the prince: a privilege quite unthinkable.’
‘You’re mistaken. What you’ve heard has nothing to do with me. I never . . .’
‘It’s understandable. You’ve always been loyal to him. Who knows . . . perhaps you even cherished a hope, a dream, deep down in the heart of a faithful old soldier. The dream that he might have given you the hand of Yun Shan . . . and why not? Who would not desire that sweetly scented rose, that morning star? After all, you were the only one he could trust. Don’t tell me that you weren’t counting on it . . . And then this foreign devil walks in and takes your place. That’s what happened, isn’t it? And she – for it could have been no one else – goes off searching for his butchered body, runs the risk of dying herself to save his life. And she may very well succeed . . .’ The torturer had stopped and was watching him without any expression, like an automaton. ‘I, on the other hand, would certainly recognize your true worth, if you were to help me. Look at me, Baj Renjie. Look into my eyes and tell me that you are indifferent to this offer of mine.’
Baj Renjie did as he asked, and it felt as if he was staring into the eyes of a cobra. He felt ensnared by that look, depleted, crushed.
‘How does one get to Li Cheng?’ repeated the eunuch.
Baj Renjie hesitated, then spoke: ‘All I can tell you is what I’ve heard. Rumour has it that the place is inaccessible. It seems that it can be reached by sailing up the Luo Ho river, but the boats which venture there vanish into thin air in the middle of the night. It is said that only a bird can reach the rooftops of Li Cheng.’
Wei half-closed his eyes. ‘Only a bird. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps that is the only way.’ He made a gesture with his hand and the torturer retreated silently, along with his acolytes, to a dark corner of the room. The eunuch stiffened, as if he had been seized by sudden pain, or by a thought. Or perhaps by a demon. A strange vibration ran through the large, shadow-filled room, intensifying into a soft argentine ringing; weak and barely perceptible at first, it became more distinct, as if carried in on gusts of the west wind that blew under the arches of the portico outside.
YUN SHAN watched the small bronze amulets hanging from a cord stretched over the entrance door. They jingled with every passing breeze, raising their voices to the wind that carried them far away.
A voice sounded behind her: ‘Come inside now . . . It’s raining.’
Yun Shan was sitting on the steps at the threshold. She answered without turning: ‘What are you saying, nurse? The moon is out and the sky is clear.’
The old woman came to the door. Her face was the colour of baked clay, her eyes were like slits and her grey hair was collected in a bun at the nape of her neck. ‘An evil aura is raining down,’ she said. ‘I can feel it. Quickly, come inside!’
Yun Shan passed under the amulets and went to sit next to a copper brazier that spread a soft glow and a pleasant warmth through the room. She sat on her heels and looked the old woman in the eye. ‘Will he live?’ she asked.
‘I’ve done what I could,’ she replied.
‘Help me, Shi Wanli! I don’t want him to die.’
‘He fought in the arena against the Flying Foxes and against Wei the eunuch, without any experience,’ replied the old woman. Her words seemed a death sentence. ‘It is difficult to survive such a trial. He has many broken bones. Even if he lives, he will be a wreck, not a man.’
Yun Shan’s eyes brimmed over. ‘I saw him fight with such desperate courage, protecting his companions in every way he could . . . I . . . I took some of the blows meant for him.’ As she spoke she bared her chest, showing a dark bruise between her pure-white breasts.
The old woman widened her eyes. ‘You used the energy of the hidden heart for him . . . You did, didn’t you?’
Yun Shan nodded.
‘You s
houldn’t have done it!’ said Shi Wanli. ‘That energy was given to you only to save your own life when there was no other choice. Years and years will pass before you can accumulate it again, understand? Long years of meditation and harsh discipline.’
‘I don’t care. I couldn’t let him die.’
‘He’s a foreign barbarian. Beware.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he will go, and break your heart. If he ever heals, he will leave.’
‘Perhaps he will, perhaps he won’t. You’ve seen me, nurse. Do you think he would spurn me?’
The old woman sighed. ‘Any pretender would hand over all of his riches merely to be able to glimpse you without veils, daughter . . . but the past of a man you do not know can hold a bottomless abyss . . .’
A moan was heard. Yun Shan got up hurriedly and went to the next room, where Metellus lay on a mat on the floor. He was awake and his breath came in painful wheezes. He was naked, an arm and a leg confined by bamboo sticks. His body was covered in wounds, which Shi Wanli had stitched up one by one with silken thread. His lips were split and covered with clots of blood. His eyes were puffy and almost sealed shut and his right cheek was grossly swollen. His limbs seemed disjointed. He was a mass of aching flesh and almost unrecognizable.
‘Is that you?’ he murmured.
The girl bent close, seeking his eyes. ‘I’m here,’ she answered. ‘It’s Yun Shan.’
‘Swathed in clouds . . . sicut luna,’ said Metellus in a breath.
‘What did you say?’
‘I spoke in my language,’ he replied.
‘And you? What’s your name?’
‘Marcus . . . Metellus . . . Aquila. In your language I’m called Xiong Ying,’ he managed to say before drifting back into semiconsciousness.
‘Resplendent Eagle . . .’ sighed Yun Shan, brushing his arm with her fingers, ‘but your wings are broken.’
AS THE DAY PASSED, Shi Wanli seemed increasingly nervous and worried. Every now and then she would go down to the village nearby to buy provisions and to wait for a message, or a signal. She would always leave after dark so as not to be noticed. One night she returned in great haste, much earlier than usual. ‘Finally!’ she said as soon as she was in the house. ‘I’ve learned that the person you were waiting for has arrived. You will depart this very night. We must be quick. The evil aura is mounting in intensity – I can feel it.’
Yun Shan fell silent for a few moments, then said, ‘Help me to move him. We’ll drag the mat to the door and then pull him on to the cart. You will drive the cart to the ford. I’ll ride on ahead to make sure that the way is clear, and to see my friend, if he’s there waiting for me.’
‘Let’s leave now, then,’ said Shi Wanli. ‘Every moment lost could prove fatal.’
Yun Shan nodded and together they began to pull the mat Metellus was lying on over the floor to the entrance portico. Yun Shan yoked the mule on to the cart and had him back up until the platform was at the same level as the portico floor. They slipped the mat on to the cart and wrapped Metellus, still unconscious, in a woollen blanket. Shi Wanli got into the driver’s seat, while Yun Shan leapt on to her mount and spurred him through the oak forest that extended in front of the house. The wood soon gave way to a grove of willow trees that stretched to the banks of the river. Yun Shan stopped when she saw the silvery glittering of the waters between the willow boughs.
She dismounted and waited, scanning the other bank. Shortly afterwards she heard a rustling of leaves and the cry of a scops owl. Once, twice, three times. She jumped on to her horse and crossed the ford in a cloud of silvery spray.
‘Yun Shan . . .’ a familiar voice greeted her.
‘Daruma!’
‘Thanks the Heavens you’re well. The foreigner?’
‘He’s alive. But just barely.’
‘It’s still remarkable. No one has ever survived an attack from Wei.’
‘Did you bring what you promised me?’
‘By this time the boat should be anchored down there, round that bend. Trusted friends have taken care of this for me. I’ll wait as long as necessary. If you don’t come back, it will mean that all has gone well and you are on your way.’
‘Thank you. This may be the only way to save him. The bumps and jolts of a journey over land would surely kill him.’
‘There’s no need to thank me. I’ve known Xiong Ying for much longer than you have.’
‘How can I repay you?’
‘By saving his life.’
‘I will. But isn’t there anything else?’
‘And by conveying my regards to Prince Dan Qing, your brother.’
‘That won’t be easy for me. My brother has wounded me deeply. And not only me.’
‘This will be your opportunity for reconciliation. Much time has passed. He has suffered himself: a long imprisonment and exile from his country. He needs you, and he needs friends. But go now, please, before you’re discovered. Wei’s men are on your track.’
Shi Wanli arrived and Yun Shan tied her horse to a willow tree, then got into the seat next to her nurse. The horse whinnied, trying to free itself.
‘Forgive me, Breath-of-Fire,’ said Yun Shan, and whipped the mule drawing the cart.
They travelled upriver towards the bend and found the boat anchored there. They gently eased Metellus on to the bottom of the little vessel, and loaded a big jar of spring water and a sack of supplies into the boat. Yun Shan signalled to Daruma that all was well, then embraced her nurse. ‘Please take care of Breath-of-Fire for me,’ she said.
‘I will. You needn’t worry,’ replied Shi Wanli, and pulled on the mule’s reins to return down the path.
Yun Shan had begun to cast off the moorings when she heard a step behind her and swiftly drew her sword. She found an unarmed man carrying a bird cage.
‘Daruma forgot to give this to you,’ he said. ‘It’s a gift for the prince.’ He held out the cage with a dove inside.
Yun Shan took it, got into the boat and began to row. From where he was standing, Daruma could see her leaving the hidden cove, reaching the centre of the current and slowly moving off along the silvery wake cast by the moon.
He continued to watch until she had disappeared round a bend in the river. He breathed a long sigh and retraced his steps back to the village.
IN THE LIGHT of dawn, Yun Shan was better able to observe her second passenger: a dove enclosed in a beautifully crafted silver cage. A scroll at the top said that it was a gift for Dan Qing. At least having this creature along would distract her from her worries.
An enchanted landscape was opening before her eyes: she was crossing the surface of a lake from which many little islets emerged, some low on the surface of the water, others taller and craggy, all covered by thick, lush vegetation. Each one of them was mirrored in the clear water, creating a play of images that multiplied into a thousand different perspectives as the boat advanced through the tranquil waters, carried along by a barely perceptible current. A light mist was rising at that moment from the lake, enveloping every shape and form in a fluttering veil.
The boat slipped along silently, and whenever it passed alongside one of the little islands it was greeted by the cries of cormorants, which took to the air in search of food.
Yun Shan followed the current with the motion of her oars. Every now and then she would turn to gaze at her travelling companion, who lay fitful and feverish in the bottom of the boat. She would dip a cloth in the water and wet his forehead and temples. Metellus would sometimes open his eyes and even say a few words, but his look was full of anguish. Perhaps in the changing reflections of the water he saw the bloodied faces of his murdered friends.
Long silences followed, accompanied by the slow dipping of the oars and the tranquil cooing of the dove in its silver cage.
They sailed on for three days, crossing the lake and then going downstream again. The river was wider now, with several tributaries flowing in. They would meet up with other boats at times, m
ostly belonging to fishermen or merchants, but then, after a certain point, there were no more. The river became strangely deserted and Yun Shan had the distinct impression of being watched by someone hidden in the dense wood that lined the banks. Metellus woke rarely and always asked for water.
They stopped on the evening of the fourth day at the foot of a towering cliff covered in cascading greenery. Trickles of water furrowed the surface of the rocks and flowed into the river, creating a concert of different sounds, depending on the size of every rivulet: soft whispering, gurgling, swishing, as the water rushed through the branches and leaves of so many different plants.
To the west, where the waterline met the horizon, the sun was setting, enflaming the river and the clouds as they drifted slowly through the sky. Yun Shan drew the boat in as close to the base of the cliff as she could, where the current was practically nonexistent. She took from under her gown a long roll of red silk which she unwound into the water, creating a vermilion trail that lengthened out on the surface of the river like a streak of blood.
Metellus opened his eyes and watched her as she performed this strange act. He had only enough strength to ask, ‘What do we do now?’
‘Nothing,’ replied Yun Shan. ‘We wait.’
And they waited, until they saw the full moon slowly rising, enormous, through a screen of light blue vapours; it hovered like a magic lantern over that dreamlike landscape.
Then a cloud advancing from the west obscured the face of the moon and the surface of the river turned into a leaden expanse. The shriek of a bird of prey pierced the night and the frightened dove beat its wings against the walls of the cage. At that same instant they heard a sudden splashing: four ghosts shot out of the water and landed on the boat, two at the fore and two aft. All that Metellus could see were the dripping shapes of steel limbs moving with extraordinary agility, weightless bodies that seem to barely touch the deck. Vermilion bands swathed their hips and razor-edged blades flashed silver in their hands.