At the end of the next day, we’re at the Pass.  By this time we’re getting rather tired of our travelling companions, because the smell of blood’s attracting clouds of flies.  As before, there’s a whole encampment of wagons waiting to go through, but Lang Huo leads me right through them and dismounts at the west gate.  The guard recognizes him.

“Hey, Brother Lang, long time no see.  What’s up?”

“Got a couple of bodies here – wanted men.  We’ve come for the reward.”

“Who is it this time?”

“Half-Ear and his big buddy.”

The gate creaks open and we go through, followed by the grey dog.  Several men come out of a doorway, grinning and shoving one another.  Apparently impervious to the flies, they check out the bodies.

“Doesn’t look too good, does he?” says one, lifting Half-Ear’s head. 

“You should see the other one,” Lang Huo says.

“Hey, what happened to his head?”

“He lost it.”

A burst of raucous laughter is abruptly cut off as an officer comes out of the doorway.

“What’s all the noise?  Oh, it’s you, Lang Huo.”

“He’s brought in Half-Ear and the big man, sir,” says one of the soldiers.

The officer grunts.  “Come inside.  You lot, get those bodies out of here.”

I dismount and follow Lang Huo into what’s obviously a common-room, judging by the tables and benches, some with drinking cups on them.  We go down a corridor and into a small office.  The grey dog patters after us.  The officer fumbles in a drawer and brings out a sheaf of papers, which he shuffles through, before extracting two.  He lays them out on the desk.  Even upside down, I can see that they’re posters with approximate likenesses of the wanted men.

“So who gets the reward?” the officer says.

 “I killed the big man and my friend here killed Half-Ear.”

The officer grunts again, fishes in the drawer and takes out two money bags.  Laboriously, he writes out two papers.

“Name?” he says, looking up at me.  His gaze wanders across my face and goes downwards.

“Zhao Jing.”

He writes some more, then pushes the papers over to us.

“Sign,” he says.

I sign one and Lang Huo signs the other.  The money bags are pushed over to us.

“Nice doing business with you,” Lang Huo says with a wink, tucking his money bag into his tunic.  We leave the same way we came, with the dog following us.

Outside, all the horses are waiting.

“What about the extra horses?” I ask.

“We get to keep those.  Spoils of war.  Which one d’you want?”

I choose Half-Ear’s horse, which is more my size. 

“I need a drink,” says Lang Huo.  “And we need a bed for the night.  Grab your stuff.  I know a place. ”

We go back through the gate, leave the horses in the care of a lad who greets Lang Huo by name, and head for the place he mentioned.  It’s crowded, sweaty and loud.  We get to it through a small door in the outer wall of the fort and down a lot of steps.  Lang Huo’s greeted by yells and back-slapping.  Several women in gaudy clothes throw themselves into his arms.  Some curious glances are cast at me and someone says, “Who’s the princess, Brother Lang?” 

Lang Huo scarcely blinks.  “Call him that and he’ll cut your throat.”  We sit down at a table and he shouts for food and wine, which appear almost immediately.  Both are surprisingly good, but at this stage, I’m so hungry I could eat the tables and chairs. 

The noise is deafening.  A game of dice is going on in one corner and Lang Huo has his eye on it.  He takes the bag of reward money out of his waist-pouch and tosses it in his hand.

“I’m feeling lucky,” he says.  “Let’s go over.  Keep a hold of your stuff.”

There are six men at the table.  One of them has two dice and a cup.  The others are a mixture of soldiers, servants and general low-lifes.  Lang Huo puts his hand on one man’s shoulder.  The man looks up and hastily leaves his seat.  Lang Huo slides into it and glances up at me with his impudent grin.  “Stand behind me, Brother Zhao.  You’ll bring me luck.”

The game’s not complicated.  The man holding the cup shakes the dice and then plonks the cup down on the table with the dice underneath.  The players have to guess high or low.  I realize immediately that this is a mug’s game because guessing correctly is almost impossible.  It therefore arouses my suspicions when Lang Huo steadily amasses winnings   I frown. 

He and the guy throwing the dice must have an arrangement.

 The man throwing the dice looks like a ruffian.  He scarcely glances at Lang Huo.  How are they doing it?  I’ve had some experience of gambling (and cheating) back with the troop.  The dice must be rigged.  In fact there must be two pairs of dice, one rigged to fall high and the other rigged to fall low.  The dealer’s swapping them about and then signaling to Lang Huo which pair’s in the cup.  I have to admire the skill with which it’s done.

As I’m puzzling this out, I feel a hand settle on my backside and start squeezing.  Without thinking, I spin round and grab the hand, crushing the fingers together.  The owner of the hand howls.  He’s a small ratty man with sparse hair sticking up all over his head.  His face is scrunched up in pain.  I let go of his hand and give him a push.  He falls flat on his back, clutching his hand and still howling.  People move backwards, rather speedily. 

Lang Huo rises from his chair.  “Didn’t I say?” he says in a velvety voice, “He’s not just a pretty face.”

With a quick movement, before I can stop him, he kicks the ratty-looking man viciously in the mouth.  Blood and teeth spray out and there’s a shocked murmur all round.  I grab Lang Huo’s arm, alarmed at his expression.  “Stop,” I say. “That’s not necessary,”

“He disrespected you.” Lang Huo’s still looking down at the unfortunate victim, who’s whimpering, hands to his bloody mouth. “I don’t like people disrespecting my friends.”

“All the same, leave it.”

He looks at me and the vicious expression fades, quickly replaced by his usual bold cheerfulness.

“You got it,” he says.  “Now what?  Do you want to play with the ladies?”

“No thanks.  Sleeping’s fine by me.”

“You don’t mind sharing, do you?” he asks.  “A room, I mean,” he adds, laughing.

“I don’t mind.”

“Follow me, then.”

The room’s up many flights of stairs and is small and basic, with two rickety-looking beds. 

“Use your own bedding,” Lang Huo advises.  “Make yourself at home.  I’ll be back later.”

As his footsteps recede down the stairs, I strip the grey limp bedding off one of the bedsteads and spread my own quilts. Then I look round.  There are no washing arrangements, only a chamber-pot, unscreened.  There’s a small window which is just a hole in the wall, without paper or shutters.  But through it I can see the stars. 

Lang Huo returns late, but I’m not quite asleep.  He has a lit candle in his hand.  I half-open an eye, expecting to see him fall into bed, but instead he’s bending over my saddle-bags.  Surely he’s not going to……?  But he does.  Quickly and efficiently, he searches both my saddle-bags.  He doesn’t find my money-bag, because I’ve got it on me.  Obviously nothing arouses his suspicions.  As he turns, I sigh, move and, faking sleepiness, say, “Is that you?  Is it late?”

“Yes. Sorry to disturb you.  Go back to sleep.”

I turn round so my back’s to him, but I don’t fall asleep.  Instead I’m thinking, I’ve got to get away from this guy as soon as possible. 

As daylight comes, we’re up and packing.  We eat downstairs in the main room of the inn, or whatever it is.  We’re the only patrons.  Our breakfast’s brought by a sleepy girl who hasn’t combed her hair.  We pick up our horses, which look well-fed and rested.  The grey dog rises to his feet and yawns widely.  We mount up and join the queue waiting to get through the gate. 

There seem to be dozens of wagons waiting, but Lang Huo has obviously greased a few palms, because we’re among the first through the gate.  There’s a huge amount of confusion inside the fort.  Caravans have been admitted from both east and west at the same time, so officials are running about all over the place, horses are whinnying, oxen lowing and people shouting bad-temperedly.  Perhaps because of this, nobody’s really interested in two riders.   I have a bad moment when I recognize one of the officials as the young officer who inspected the Imperial merchandise last year, but such is the confusion that he hasn’t a glance to spare for me.  We pay our toll and are waved through. 

Outside the east gate, the situation’s even worse.  We find a huge crowd of people and wagons, horses and riders, all waiting their turn to go west through the Pass.  Clouds of choking dust obscure the view, people are shouting, dogs barking, insects buzzing, horses milling around.  It’s a perfect cacophony.  It’s not till we’re well clear of the Pass that things settle down.

We travel all day without incident.  Lang Huo’s a cheerful companion, but I’m ill-at-ease, a fact which I try to hide.  He’s adopted a half-flirtatious, half-serious manner towards me which is a little unsettling.  The flirtatiousness grows through the next day, but is suddenly dropped as we see a large cloud of dust on the road ahead of us.  He raises a hand.  “Trouble,” he says briefly.  “Let’s get off the road.”

There are thickets at the side of the road, so we pull the horses over and dismount.  A small group of soldiers on horseback pounds past, heading west.  A few moments later a large cavalry force follows them, travelling at top speed.  There must be three hundred men there and at their head is a banner which I recognize.  It carries the Second Prince’s device.  Why are there troops here, heading west at such a speed under the Second Prince’s banner?  The Second Prince doesn’t have troops at his command.  Only the Emperor does.

A cold feeling creeps up my spine and I feel the hair on the back of my neck rising.  The  Second Prince....  Is it possible?

It takes a while for the cloud of dust to settle so we can move on.

“Bad news for somebody,” Lang Huo says grimly. “Those bastards look as if they mean business.”

That evening as we sit by the fire, Lang Huo says, “So are you related to those Zhaos – the Eagle Rock Zhaos?”

“Distantly.  The old man’s been good to me in the past and I drop in when I can.  It’s worth it because I can usually bum a few supplies off them.”

“Well, how about we meet up after you’ve paid your visit?  There’s a place called River Town not too far down the road.  I’ll wait for you there.”

“Why not?”  I say, trying to sound careless.  “Is there an inn or somewhere we could meet?”

“Sure, there’s a big inn by the river.  Nice location.  Food’s good too.  I’ll treat you to dinner.”

“Deal,” I say, thinking, In a pig’s ear.  Remind me to avoid River Town.

Next day I say goodbye to Lang Huo.  I’m a little concerned he might suggest coming with me, but to my relief he doesn’t.  I watch him ride off and with a sigh of relief, I turn my horses onto the side-road that leads to the Zhao estate.  My spirits start to rise at the thought of seeing Lord Zhao and Zhao Zhan again.  But a few miles further on, I get a rude shock.  The efficient irrigation system of canals and waterwheels, which we admired so much last year, is lying in ruins.  And there's no-one in the fields, when everyone should be ploughing and sowing.  The cold feeling runs down my spine again.  Those troops….. 

Further on again, I smell smoke.  I urge the horses into a gallop and see what I most fear:  a plume of smoke in the sky, right where the house is located.  Grimly, I unship my bow, fit an arrow and proceed with caution.

The compound comes into view.  The smoke’s coming from inside it.  The gate’s been destroyed and part of the wall knocked down.  It’s very quiet, apart from the cawing of carrion birds, but there isn’t the tense feeling of an ambush.  Instead there’s the empty feeling of death.

The stables are smoking, though the fire’s mostly out.  The house hasn’t burned.  Kindling’s still piled against the walls but the flames must have fizzled out.  There are bodies, about a dozen or so, in the dark blue uniform of Lord Zhao’s private guard. 

I dismount cautiously.  The bodies are a day or two old, scattered all round the compound.  Neither Lord Zhao nor Zhao Zhan is among them.  I search the outbuildings. Nothing’s left alive.  The falcons are gone.  The poultry cages are empty.  With extreme caution, I move to the house.  Everything’s been destroyed and defiled:  the furnishings and hangings, the windows, the courtyard with its fountain and carefully tended garden.  The golden fish are lying like autumn leaves on the tiles.  A smashed zither lies alongside them. 

I feel sick, remembering the last time I was here.  Who would do this?  But I already know the answer.  The Dowager Empress has a long arm.  This is revenge. 

I start the heartbreaking task of searching the ruined house.  The same destruction’s visible in every room.  In the bathing room, the pool’s been smashed up and water has flooded the floor and is pouring out unchecked.  There are no more bodies.  Lord Zhao must have escaped.  They wouldn’t have left him alive if he’d been here.  But where’s Zhao Zhan?

As if to answer me, the grey dog growls suddenly and a ghost-like voice stammers, “Y-Your Highness?”

I spin round and see Zhao Zhan standing in the doorway, looking as if he’s seen the dead rise.  The sword in his hand is trembling.

“Y- Your Highness –alive?”

“Zhao Zhan!” I leap across the room and seize him by the shoulders.  “Where’s Lord Zhao?  Is he all right?”

But Zhao Zhan can’t focus, he’s staring at me with incredulity.  “Alive?” he repeats.  He makes a strange ritualistic movement and mutters something in a language I don’t understand.  I grip his shoulders tighter.  “It’s me, it’s really me.  I’m not dead, I’m not a ghost.  Zhao Zhan, where’s Lord Zhao?”

He licks his lips and seems to come to himself.  His hands come up and rest on my arms.  The touch of warm flesh seems to reassure him. 

“Your Highness, we heard – we heard you were dead.  My Lord, he took it very badly.”

 “Where is he?  What happened here?”

Zhao Zhan pulls himself together.  “When we heard of your – your death, my Lord seemed to lose the will to live.  Then we heard that troops were approaching, so I persuaded him to go into hiding.  I thought they would search the house and leave, but we never expected – they attacked without warning, with hundreds of men.  We could not hold out.”

He falls silent, swallowing.  I’d forgotten how formally he speaks, but of course, this isn’t his mother tongue.

“Is he dead?” I ask, suddenly fearful.

“No, no, Your Highness.  There is a secret way out, and when it became clear we were overwhelmed, all our remaining men escaped.  But Lord Zhao collapsed and he and I have stayed in hiding.”

“So he’s here?  Can you take me to him?”

“Yes.  When he sees you – come, I will show you.”

His horse is tethered outside the walls.  He leads me along a roundabout path which soon begins to climb steeply through woods towards the top of the plateau.  We have to dismount and lead the horses, the grey dog following behind.  Halfway up, there’s a flat space in front of a cave-mouth.  It’s the perfect hideout, nothing at all can be seen from below.  In front is a hitching-rail, with another horse tethered to it.    

The cave’s dry, with a sandy floor.  A large fire’s burning in a hearth made from a ring of stones.  A pot is slung on a tripod over the flames.  Firewood, sacks and chests are piled against the wall, along with barrels which I suppose contain water. A rustic table holds cooking utensils, bowls and dishes.  In a sheltered corner, a man’s lying wrapped in quilts, his head turned away from the light.

Zhao Zhan goes over and kneels beside him.  “My Lord,” he says in a soft voice, “See who is here.”

I go over too, kneel and take one of Lord Zhao’s motionless hands in mine. “Father….”

The sick man’s head turns slowly.  Zhao Zhan rises and backs away. 

“Jinhai,” murmurs Lord Zhao disbelievingly.  He lifts a hand to my face.  “It’s really you?”

“Yes, it’s me.  Zhao Zhan thought I was a ghost, but I’m not.  I escaped.”

Suddenly there are tears on his face.  He seems very weak.

“Are you injured?” I ask.

“Nothing serious.  How did you escape?”

“It’s a long story.  You haven’t been eating, have you?”

He doesn’t need to answer. 

“You’ve got to get strong again so we can get you out of here,” I say.  “You just stay there.”

Zhao Zhan’s outside seeing to the horses.  I walk over to join him.

“He refused to eat?”

Zhao Zhan nods.  “He would only take water.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.  Is there any meat?’

“I hunted yesterday.”

“Good.  Zhao Zhan, thank you for saving him.  And thank you for being alive.”  I ’m about to salute when Zhao Zhan prevents me.

“No, Your Highness.  There is no need.  Please, bring your gear inside and we will eat.”

As darkness falls, Zhao Zhan lights a couple of braziers to keep the cave warm.  There are lanterns too, placed well back so that the light doesn’t escape.  It’s the most comfortable place I’ve slept in since the inn in Border Town.  The pot contains stew and there’s plenty of tough flat bread to go with it.  I fill a cup with the broth, soak some bread in it and take it over to Lord Zhao.  He eats slowly, his eyes fixed on my face. 

Zhao Zhan gets up, goes over to one of the barrels and comes back with a jug and three bowls, which he brings over to us.   He pours out and I sip cautiously.  It’s good strong wine and very welcome. 

“Now,” says Lord Zhao, “Tell us what happened.”

So I tell them the whole story, starting from the day Shan and the troop left Qiu City.  Lord Zhao and I have communicated by letter during the winter, but I haven’t told him about my relationship with Shan and I avoid it now.  When I get to the part about the Second Prince’s troop, he looks up with a sudden frown.

“Those troops must have been the ones who attacked us.  You say they were under the Second Prince’s banner?”

I nod.  We stare at each other and I know he’s thinking the same as I am.  “It’s possible he’s taken the throne.” I say.

“If that’s the case, if Yan Yijun has been killed or forced to abdicate, then Prime Minister Li will go down with him.  And the whole network’s in danger.”

“You need to go somewhere safe.”

“We will go to my tribe,” Zhao Zhan says, “My tribal lands are five days’ ride from here.”

I think about Ma Xiuying, Shi Mu and Ah-Ming.  “What about the people in Border Town?” 

“I think we can rely on them to have an escape plan.”  There’s a thread of weary amusement in Lord Zhao’s voice.  “They’re nothing if not resourceful.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Commander Liao will also be in danger.  Not only is he part of Li Wei’s network, but he’s also related by marriage.” 

He’s voicing my most intimate fear. 

“You said Commander Liao’s troop is heading back to the capital?” he pursues.  “They must have encountered the Second Prince’s men on the road.”

The worry must be showing on my face, because he takes my hand and holds it.  “Commander Liao and his men are also very resourceful.  Don’t assume the worst.”

“No, you’re right.  They are.” I try to smile.

The food and alcohol are making Lord Zhao drowsy.  He pats my hand and releases it.  “Sleep and try not to worry,” he says.  “As I shall, now that you’re here.”

I settle him down and then return to sit by the fire with Zhao Zhan.  He pours me more wine.

“Zhao Zhan, you’re spoiling me.”

“It is good to drink when meeting friends again.”

“How did you escape?”

“This cave is connected to many more caves.  I believe that people in ancient times used to live here.  When we were building the bathing room, we discovered a cave behind and it led here.  So all the men who were left were able to escape and have now dispersed to their homes.  We destroyed the entrance behind us.  This retreat, of course, has been prepared for a long time.”

“That was wise.”

“It was necessary.  My Lord always thought that as long as Xu Yating is alive, he would not be safe.”

“None of us are now.”

“Indeed, we are all in the same basket, back where we started.”

“As soon as he’s strong enough, you should leave.”

“That is my intention.”

Lord Zhao has fallen asleep.  I bed down behind a stack of chests that give some small privacy, but lie awake for some time, enjoying the sense of peace and security given by the flickering of firelight on the cave roof and the pleasant buzz of alcohol inside me.  Despite my worries, I’m warm, well-fed and eased by the good wine.  That’ll do to be going on with.

The weather’s cold and grey next morning.  I discover that the stores in the cave include dried herbs and spend the morning making medicine for Lord Zhao.  But he already seems better, sitting up, more alert.  He insists on being shaved and then asks me to follow suit.  “I want to see your face,” he says.

So I oblige.  I don’t much like the feel of stubble on my face anyway.

After the midday meal, I say to Zhao Zhan, “The dead men – should we do anything about them?”

“Better not.  Should the soldiers return, they will see that someone has been here and perhaps search for us.”

“It doesn’t seem right just to leave them.”

Zhao Zhan’s making a trap out of bamboo.  “In some tribes,” he says, “The bodies of the dead are left in the open for wild creatures to dispose of.  Their souls will still go to the underworld and wait to be reborn.”

“Do you believe we’ll be reborn?”

“I believe it.  And when I am reborn, perhaps I will obtain my heart’s desire, as I have not been able to in this life.”

I happen to be watching his face as he says this.  I see him glancing at Lord Zhao and there’s longing in his eyes.  I look away quickly, not wanting to intrude.

So that’s how it is.  While Lord Zhao thinks only of his lost love, Zhao Zhan thinks only of him. 

I’m not sure about the next life.  I already have my heart’s desire in this one and I want to keep it.