The Commander

“I’m telling you, the look in his eyes nearly broke my heart.  There was absolutely nothing I could say.  When all’s said and done, we’re going to have to hand him over to the old bastard in Qiu and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Liang Zhou’s in my tent, unburdening himself.  There’s a jar of wine on the table between us and he’s had a cup or two.  I’m a little taken aback, because Liang Zhou is usually an abstemious man.

He goes on:  “When I think of what’ll happen to him when that lecherous brute gets his hands on him, I could cry.”  He pauses and then says in a low voice:  “And he’s so beautiful.  You saw the disturbance he created today just by sitting there.  Somehow that makes it so much worse.”

Liang Zhou’s echoing my own thoughts on this subject entirely, but I’m not about to tell him so.  I pat him on the back and pour him another cup of wine.  Later he goes to sleep and I heave him back to his tent.  Shao Ru helps me lay him down and we stand there, looking down contemplatively.

“His conscience is troubling him about the little bundle.” Shao Ru diagnoses accurately. 

I nod. 

Shao Ru says unsympathetically : “Well, we all have our troubles.”

“Being thrown into the bed of a sadistic pervert isn’t exactly the usual kind of trouble.” I say. 

Shao Ru glances at me, but says nothing.  Sometimes his lack of emotion’s a relief.  Back in my tent, I try to get on with compiling lists of supplies, but my mind’s wandering.  I finish the wine and get to bed.

We’re making good progress in this warm dry weather and by the following evening, we’re within a few miles of the area’s market town.  Tomorrow we’ll get our supplies and then we’ll be pushing on into the debatable lands.  The terrain will get rougher, there’ll be more obstacles.  Progress will be slower. 

I deal with the day’s usual administrative and practical problems, thinking that I ought to go over to the Prince’s wagon and check out what the carpenters have done.  When at last the paperwork’s finished and I walk over, I see they’ve done a good job.  The Prince has dug out a set of delicate porcelain cups from somewhere and offers me tea.  He seems to be in an excited mood, his eyes are sparkling.  He gives me another drawing:  it’s a comic and rather accurate picture of the carpenters breaking up the bed and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“You could make your living drawing,” I say and he laughs too and shakes his head.

I remember the main purpose of my visit and say:  “We’re going into town tomorrow.  Anything you need?”

“Some sweets would be nice,” he says.  “Anything will do.  How far are we from town?”

“A few miles.  There’s a good road so the wagon shouldn’t take too long.”

“What kind of town is it?”

“Busy market town which supplies the surrounding area.  Lots of buying and selling, market stalls, restaurants, very lively.  People come from all round.”

“And where do we go after that?” he asks.  

”Then things get more interesting.  We get into the badlands.  There’s a long stretch of wild country before we hit civilization again and anything can happen.  But there’s no need to worry.  I know that country pretty well – I’ve campaigned there.  We’ll make it through.”

He leans forward and cups his chin in his hands.  “Was campaigning there exciting?”

I laugh again.  “Terrifying, exhausting, nerve-racking, but yes, I guess you could say it was exciting.”

“Tell me about it,” he urges, so I do.  I’m not usually one for reminiscing, but he seems so interested and asks so many questions that it’s midnight before we know it.  I’m rather embarrassed about how much I’ve talked, but it doesn’t seem as if he minds.

Shao Ru’s standing in front of my tent as I get back.

“You’ve been in there for hours,” he says.  “Trying out the new bed, were you?”

“Cesspit,” I say, delivering a friendly punch which makes his teeth rattle.  I hear him laugh as I go into my tent.