The Prince

When I wake up next day, the sun tells me it’s already late morning.  I’m still in my clothes and I don’t remember hearing the morning horn.  I was so tired last night that after I staggered back from the Commander’s tent, I just collapsed face down on my bed.  There’s no noise to speak of from outside and when I emerge in search of food and water, there’s an air of relaxation about the camp.  I manage to get hold of something to eat and then I make sure Arrow’s fed and watered.  I fetch water from the river and manage a very welcome wash.  My uniform smells of sweat and dirt, so I change into my spare one and then head off down to the river again to do my laundry.  On the way I meet Mo Jiang, intent on the same errand.  He looks enviously bouncy as we beat the dirt out of our clothes with stones.

“We’ve got the whole day off,” he says happily.  “I was thinking about going off and finding somewhere to bathe this afternoon.  Are you game?”

“You bet.”

He goes on, “These last few days have been really tough.  But I knew the Commander would get us through.  He always does.”

We spread our laundry out on the rocks to dry and sit down, dabbling our feet in the water.   It’s so peaceful, I can hardly believe that day before yesterday we were in the midst of blood and dust and the clash of weapons.  There’s a path along the opposite bank and groups of people are going along it towards the village, carrying baskets of vegetables, chickens and other foodstuffs.  A group of girls goes by, giggling and glancing shyly at us.  Mo Jiang waves at them with a grin and they giggle some more and hurry their steps.  They’re the first girls I’ve seen since leaving the Palace, and I look at them with interest.

“There must be a market today,” Mo Jiang says, “I’d really like to take a look, but the village is off-limits.  The head-man’s afraid we’re going to rape and pillage.”

“I shouldn’t think anybody’s got the energy,” I say, lying back lazily. 

The grey dog trots up and joins us.  He lets me fondle his ears now.  They’re soft and furry and pleasant to the touch.  He lies down on his side and stretches his four legs straight out.

“You spoil that dog,” Mo Jiang says, “You’re always giving him food.  He’s getting fat.  And he won’t be any use as a tracker if you feed him too much.”

“I always wanted a dog.”  I reach out an idle hand to those tempting ears.  Puffs of little cloud float by and somewhere far away I hear an eagle call. 

“This is the life,” says Mo Jiang with a contented sigh.

By lunchtime most of the men are up and about, but activity’s muted.  I check whether Liang Zhou needs me and he says he can manage, so Mo Jiang and I set off for our bathe.  The other Young Masters decide to join us, so the five of us head off upstream past the village to look for a suitable place.  The grey dog trots along with us.  Others have had the same idea, so it takes a while till we get to an unoccupied place where the river has formed a deep pool against the rocks. 

“This looks good,” says Lin Chen, and starts to strip off his clothes.  The others all follow suit but I’ve never taken my clothes off in public before, and suddenly hesitate.  Then I see that they’re keeping their underpants on, so somewhat reassured, I get my stuff off as well and follow the others as they rush down to the water and jump in with loud yells.  The grey dog jumps in with us.  And suddenly we’re all eleven years old again.  We leap around, splash and duck one other and shout like little kids.  There are fish darting to and fro.  We try to catch them, but they’re far too quick for us.  Finally exhausting ourselves, we haul out and lie on the rocks to dry.  I suddenly realize that wet undergarments reveal all to anyone who cares to look, but it’s too late for modesty now. 

We’re starting to doze in the warm sun when the grey dog sits up and cocks his ears and we hear the sound of soft voices.  We all sit up too.  The voices are coming from behind a tall rock.  Then we hear the sound of giggling.  Mo Jiang gets up and takes a few strides towards the rock and we hear excited squeals and laughter and the rustling of skirts.  Mo Jiang comes back grinning.

“Village girls,” he says, “Peeking.”

The conversation turns to the inexhaustible subject of women and sex.  Lin Chen and Qin Feng are our big experts on this.  At the age of twenty-two Lin Chen’s already married with a couple of small children.  He also has a concubine, his family being wealthy.  Qin Feng, the handsome one, is a regular customer at a pleasure-house in the capital called the Cherry Blossom Pavilion.  Mo Jiang doesn’t contribute much to this kind of conversation, though I know, because he’s confided in me, that he was betrothed to a girl in his home village but that she married somebody else when he joined the army.  Wu Shun says nothing and from his red face, I deduce that like me, he has no experience at all.

But I’ve lived in the Imperial harem, where sex is the all-encompassing, indeed the only interest of women forced to live together and compete for the attention of one man.  It’s a life and death struggle: who’s in favour, who’s out of favour, who’s trying to win favour.   There are recipes for enhancing looks and recipes for ruining them, as my mother found out to her cost.  How to get pregnant, how to ensure the child’s a boy, how to abort a child that’s unwanted, how to dispose of a rival: all these dirty secrets have swirled around me since I was a child.  Life in the harem’s a vicious fight for power, and sex is the only means of obtaining it.

I remember Ah-Cheng explaining carefully and in a very roundabout way that (as he put it) certain night-time occurrences were normal in young men of my age and that I shouldn’t worry about them.  So I assume that in that respect at least, I’m like everyone else.  But I don’t think about women all the time as many of the men seem to do.  In fact, my mind tends to slide away when the sex-gossip begins.

Lin Chen sees my downcast face and Wu Shun’s embarrassed one and says kindly, “There’s no need to worry, you two.  My brother told me there’s a good place in Border Town, nearly as good as the Cherry Blossom Pavilion.  We’ll go there for a night out and you two can get some experience.  A man’s got to know what’s what before he gets married, and going to a reliable pleasure-house is the best way.  Everyone does it.”

“Where’s Border Town?” I ask.  The name doesn’t sound familiar.

“Up in the north-west, a few days’ ride from Qiu City.  It’s a big market-town with lots of amenities, a sort of melting pot for people who live inside and outside the Empire.  There’s an army post there too.  We’ll be spending a few days there, so we’ll certainly get leave.”

Qiu City.  My heart lurches at the thought. 

“We’d better think about getting back,” Lin Chen says, reaching for his clothes, “There’s a briefing before supper.”

We dress and wander lazily back along the river.  The exercise and sunshine have gone a long way towards mitigating our fatigue and clearing our minds. 

If it wasn’t for the thought of Qiu City……

However there isn’t much time to reflect on this, because the purpose of the briefing, which takes place in the Commander’s tent as usual, is to tell us that the Commander and Shao Ru are going to lead a detachment upriver tomorrow to attack the bandit stronghold.  Lin Chen and Qin Feng are to be left in charge of the encampment.  Wu Shun, Mo Jiang and I will be accompanying the troops. 

“I’m not planning to waste a lot of time over this,” the Commander says.  He has a stretched look.  “We’ll call on them to surrender and if they refuse, we’ll burn them out.  The scouts I sent out today report that it’s a square fort with a stout wooden enclosure, surrounded by a heavily-fortified ditch.  So we’ll need archers and fire-arrows.”

“There are women and children inside,” Liang Zhou says, frowning. 

“Then let’s hope they’re sensible,” the Commander’s voice is curt.  “The alternatives are starving them out or making a direct attack.  We don’t know how much they’ve got in the way of supplies or how many men are left.  A siege could last weeks or even months and a direct attack will mean casualties.  Questions?”

There are none.

“Good.  We leave at first light,”

Liang Zhou says, “But….” and is cut off short by the Commander.

“That’s all.  Dismissed.”

We file out.  Liang Zhou stays behind.  We hear a short sharp exchange and the doctor comes out looking discomfited.  He marches over to his own tent and disappears inside.  We all look at one another, our eyebrows raised.

After supper, I venture into the doctor’s tent, on the pretext of asking whether he’d like me to attend to the Commander’s injuries again.  Liang Zhou’s sitting on his bed staring into space, but he gets up when he sees me and assumes his usual kindly expression.  I say my piece and he nods.  “Yes, by all means.  And make sure he drinks the sleeping potion.”

“Is he all right?” I ask cautiously.  “He seems rather stressed.”

“He has a lot on his mind.  And now he’s been landed with this extra task which could turn into a real headache.”

I hesitate, then ask, “And ….are you all right?”

He looks at me in surprise, then smiles, a little ruefully.  “Yes, I’m fine.  It’s just that sometimes, a doctor’s priorities clash with military priorities.  I spoke out of turn in the meeting.  Go along, don’t keep him waiting.”

I find the Commander looking morosely into a wine cup.  His black expression lifts a little when he sees me.  “You look as if you got a good night’s sleep,” he remarks.

“I did, yes.  And this afternoon we all went and bathed in the river.  Some of the village girls were taking peeks at us.”

To my satisfaction, this gets a laugh.  He lifts his arms so I can get his tunic off.  The movement makes him wince, but it looks as if the wounds are healing well and the terrible bruise on his shoulder is starting to fade.  Removing the old bandages isn’t too much of an ordeal and I soon have everything sorted out.  I put the soiled bandages back on my tray and move over to the camp stove to boil water for the sleeping potion.  Then something comes into my mind and I ask, “How long before we get to Border Town?”

“Who told you about Border Town?”

“It came up in the conversation today at the river.”

“With no further hold-ups, we should be there in two or three weeks.”

“And how much further is it to – to Qiu City?”

He hesitates for a moment.  Then he says, “Three days.”

I pour the boiling water onto the herbs in the teapot.  My hand isn’t quite steady.  Then, to my utter surprise, I hear his voice saying my name.

“Jinhai,” he says, “put that down and come here.”

He pulls the camp stool forward and pats it.  Nobody has called me by my name since my mother died.  It’s absolutely contrary to all formal etiquette.  Hardly believing my ears, I go over and sit down. 

“Listen,” he goes on, “I’m racking my brains to find some way to get you out of this.  The political situation’s changing.  My informants tell me your father’s illness is mortal.  That means a new Emperor, and once he’s on the throne, things will hopefully be different.  On top of that, the situation in Qiu isn’t stable.  There may well be possibilities we can take advantage of.  I’m going to do everything in my power to help you.”

“But that means putting you and everyone else in danger.”

“So it’s going to be challenging.  That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.  And we’re a long way from the capital here.  That gives us some leeway.”

I feel a sense first of shock and then of indescribable relief, but words fail me because my throat’s hurting so much.  Dammit, I’m going to cry again.  I cover my face with my hands, while he pats me comfortingly on the back as he did before, on the night I ran away and on the night of the fight.  Eventually I manage to gulp, pull myself together and mutter an apology. 

“No need to apologize,” he says.  “You’ve been under this strain for a very long time.  Let me worry about it now.  Pass me my sleeping robe.  And go and fetch me that drink before it gets cold.”

As I fall asleep much later, the last thing I hear before sinking into oblivion is his voice saying my name.

“Jinhai.”