Food revives me somewhat.  In the early afternoon an official from the magistrate’s court comes to demand a fine from Zhong Buo.  Judging by the colour of Sir Zhong’s face, it’s a substantial sum.  The man also delivers a letter to me.

“What is it?” Yao Lin asks curiously.

“An invitation from the Chief Magistrate.  He’s inviting me to use his medicinal spring and stay for dinner.”

Yao Yuhan’s eyebrows rise.  “Will you go?”

“A medicinal spring sounds very tempting.  Don’t know about dinner though.”

“He seems to be a very civilized person,” Yao Yuhan says, “I doubt if you’d find yourself in difficulties.”

“What difficulties?” Yao Lin asks, looking from one of us to the other.

I chuckle wryly.  “Unwanted attentions.  I suppose I should be used to it by now.  But I think you’re right, Sir Yao.  I’ll accept.” 

Later that afternoon, I make my painful way to the magistrate’s house, an elegant mansion set in extensive grounds.  Once inside, I’m immediately reassured by the sight of several pretty maids, who giggle and cast interested glances at me, and by the sound of children’s voices somewhere in the interior.  I’m greeted by a courteous man in middle age, who introduces himself as Xian Long’s steward.

“Sir Xian’s still in court, but he will join you for dinner and begs you to take advantage of the spring in the meantime.  This way, if you please.”

He takes me into an inner courtyard full of flowers.  I stop short, amazed at the profusion of colour and scent.  The air’s full of bees and butterflies.  The steward smiles, but ushers me on towards a small pavilion in a bamboo grove.  Inside there’s a familiar medicinal smell and a large marble tub full of bubbling water.

“These waters are excellent for wounds, bruises and fatigue,” the steward says.  “Please spend as much time as you wish.  I’ll take my leave.  If you require anything, please call.  A servant will be outside.”

He bows and departs.

Wearily, painfully, I undress, peel off my bandages, and lower my aching body into the water.  It’s just the right temperature, not too hot, not too cold.  There’s a jade pillow to rest my head on.  I get used to the smell after a minute.  I hear the bamboos rustling outside, complementing the faint bubbling of the water.  Somewhere, birds are chirping.

This is heaven.  If only Shan were here.

The warmth and the gentle bubbling smooth away the pain.  My eyes close.  I don’t exactly sleep, but time seems to stop for a blessed while.  Then I hear the clinking of crockery and a young servant comes in with a tea-tray, which he puts down carefully on the rim of the tub. 

“Sir Xian begs to inform his guest that dinner will be ready in an hour,” he murmurs, averting his eyes politely from my naked body.

I thank him with a smile.  He blushes and beats a hasty retreat.  I really don’t want to leave the comforting water, but a guest must be polite.  I drink the tea, pull myself out of the tub and reach for the drying cloths.  It takes a while to dry my hair and get my clothes back on.  I wander out into the perfumed dusk.  As night falls, servants are hurrying round lighting lanterns.  The boy servant’s sitting outside drawing figures in the dust.  He sees me and leaps to his feet.

“This way, Young Master.”

He leads me to a rustic kiosk in the centre of the garden, where a low table and cushions have been placed.  Xian Long comes to meet me with a smile.

“I trust you enjoyed the waters,” he says, “And I must apologize again for my soldiers’ behaviour.”

I bow, smile and thank him for his kindness.  We sit.  He pours me a drink and servants begin to bring food.

“Your garden’s beautiful,” I say, looking round.  “I haven’t seen flowers like these …..  since leaving the Palace…for many months.”

“Ah, you’re stroking me the right way.  Gardening’s one of my passions.  Are you interested in this gentle art?”

“Only in medicinal herbs.  But seeing this, I think I could get interested in flowers as well.”

From gardening, the talk strays to current affairs, about which he’s very well-informed, as one might expect.  The war in the south is dragging on as hopes fade of an early victory by the Imperial troops. 

“The new generals are very inexperienced,” Xian Long says, “There’s unrest in the capital and among the common folk, but the Dowager Empress has a firm hold.”

“Last year when I was travelling west, there was a lot of misery in the countryside.  Bad harvests and high taxes don’t encourage faith in the authorities.”

“Indeed they don’t, as I know to my cost.  People are driven to extremes by poverty.”

He talks entertainingly and informatively about his work as a magistrate. Then he turns to the day’s events.

“I’ve been suspecting Dong Qiu of taking bribes for some time, but I couldn’t pin him down till your man Zhong turned up.  I suppose I should be grateful to him.  Not a pleasant character.  How did you come to fall in with him?”

I once again recite my prepared account, to which I’ve been adding details as I go along.  Xian Long listens to the tale of my encounters with the Yaos and the Zhongs, frowning.  “So you did indeed save Sir Zhong’s life.  That puts his action in an even worse light.  Tell me, the caravan they belonged to, is it led by a man called Hao Meng?”

“Yes, it is.  Is there news of them?”

“They passed through here two or three days ago.  You’ll catch up with them soon.”

“That’ll be a huge relief.  I’ll be glad to see everyone safe.  We’re so vulnerable and there are so many predators out there.”

“It’s impossible to patrol the whole length of the trade road,” Xian Long says, shaking his head.  “The soldiers in the command posts are too few and tend to be demoralized.  We townspeople do what we can, but we can’t be everywhere.  I keep suggesting that each town should organize some kind of people’s militia, but there’s no enthusiasm from the higher-ups.”

“They’ll be worried about the potential for rebellion.  Perhaps the command posts could be encouraged to form auxiliaries drawn from the local population?  It would need funding, of course.”

He smiles.  “An intelligent suggestion, Young Master Zhao.”

The food has been excellent.  It would have surprised me if it had been otherwise.  As the dishes are cleared, Xian Long proposes a little music.

“One of my ladies plays delightfully.  Or perhaps you play yourself, Young Master?”

“I do, but I haven’t practised since I left Qiu City.  I’d be happy to play for you, if you’d overlook my mistakes.”

“Of course.  Which instrument do you play?”

A servant brings a zither and arranges lanterns around me.  Moths beat against the parchment with a soft sound of wings.  Memories suddenly surge up:  the night we all dined at Eagle Rock and entertained Lord Zhao;  many nights in Qiu City last winter singing and playing in the common room at the Black Snake;  playing for Shan, alone in our quarters.  My breath catches.

“Are you well, Young Master?” Xian Long says, leaning forward in concern.

“Yes, thank you.  I was thinking of past times.”

He says no more and waits, his eyes fixed on me.

When I finish playing, his face is full of emotion.

“That was beautiful,” he says simply.  “Thank you for letting me hear it.”

“Please take it as my thanks to you.  I’ve enjoyed this evening very much.  But I should perhaps be getting back.”

“I’ll accompany you to the gates.  They close at sunset but they’ll let you through on my word.”

We stroll through the quiet dark town side by side.  At the gate, the soldiers salute and open the postern for me to leave.

“Your Sir Yao,” Xian Long says as I turn to say goodbye, “I’d be happy for him to take advantage of the spring, if you think it would help him.”

“I’m sure it would, sir.  That’s truly generous of you.”

“Tomorrow afternoon then?  I’ll send a sedan chair.  Come yourself.  And bring the boy.”

“Thank you very much,” I say, bowing. “Until tomorrow, then.”

Everyone’s asleep when I get back.  I undress and roll myself up in my quilts, but the evening has wakened a longing for my friends’ faces, for the comradeship of the troop and the security of knowing that Shan and Shao Ru and Liang Zhou are in charge. I miss them all so much. 

Yao Yuhan’s delighted by Xian Long’s invitation.  The sedan chair arrives promptly just after noon, carried by four sturdy servants.  Two of them lift Yao Yuhan from his bed and carry him down the wagon steps.  They heave the chair to their shoulders and off we go, Yao Lin and I walking alongside.  Yao Yuhan looks around with an air of incomparable satisfaction.

“Do you know,” he says, “I haven’t been outside that wagon for two months.  This is wonderful.”

He takes a deep breath of the fragrant air.  All around us is the sweet scent of leaves bursting out.  Yao Lin looks at me and grins happily.

When we reach the bathing pavilion, the servants carry Yao Yuhan in, and Yao Lin and I take off his outer robes and lower him into the water.

Yao Lin wrinkles up his nose.  “Gosh, it does pong.”

“It’s the minerals in the water.  That’s what’s good for you.  Worked wonders on me yesterday.”

“Indeed, it’s very comfortable,” Yao Yuhan says, smiling. 

Someone has left a Go board near the tub.  A servant brings tea. 

“This is amazing,” Yao Lin says, awed.  “This guy must be really rich.”

“This is true taste,” Yao Yuhan says, “Not ostentation, but luxury.  We’re privileged.  White or black, Young Master Zhao?”

“I’ll take white.  I’m going to beat you this time.”

But I don’t.  Nor the next time either.  We’re locked in battle for the third time when our host wanders in casually.  Yao Lin and I jump to our feet, but Xian Long waves a friendly hand.

“A battle of giants, I see.  Please continue.”

A few more moves and I crash to defeat again.  Xian Long laughs.  “I see Sir Yao is a master.  Perhaps after some refreshments, I might be allowed to challenge him?”

“This humble person would be honoured, Sir Xian,” Yao Yuhan replies courteously.

“Take your time.  I’ll be in the garden pavilion.  Young Master Zhao knows the way.”

So, having extracted Yao Yuhan from the water, dried him off and dressed him, Yao Lin and I carry him, forming a chair with our crossed arms, to the kiosk among the flowers.  A table’s laid with a variety of snacks.  Tea appears as if by magic.  We sit and eat.  Xian Long and Yao Yuhan converse amiably and eruditely.  I contribute from time to time, while Yao Lin remains tongue-tied, mostly because he’s eating.  The Go board appears again.

“Young Master Zhao, why not take Young Master Yao to see the garden, while we play,” Xian Long says, smiling. “And there are falcons, if you’re interested.”

“Gosh, yes,” Yao Lin bursts out.  Then he remembers his manners and bows, “Thank you very much, Sir Xian.”

We wander away into the garden, leaving them to their game and their conversation.

“Do you think Dad will be all right?” Yao Lin asks anxiously.

“He’ll be fine.  He’s enjoying himself.   I expect he misses civilized company.  He’ll be very tired, but this will do him good.”

We press further into the wilderness of flowers, until Yao Lin suddenly says, “Ow!” and rubs his head.

“What’s up?”

“Something hit me.  Ow!”  he says again, much more loudly.

A giggle comes from above.  We both look up.  We’re under a tree with very dense leaves. 

“Ah,” I say, “Something tells me it wasn’t an accident.”

There’s a flurry of branches and a flash of white undergarments and a very young girl jumps down onto the path in front of us.  She’s maybe fourteen, very pretty, with a mischievous little face.

“No it wasn’t an accident,” she says, “It was me.”

Yao Lin’s face is bright red.

I bow and smile.  “The daughter of the house, I presume?”

“I’m the Eldest Young Miss, Xian Lan.  It means ‘orchid’.”

“I know,” I say, “It was my mother’s name.”

“Oh.  Is your mother still alive?”

“Alas, no.”

“I’m sorry.  My mother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Yao Lin suddenly finds his voice.  “Why are you here?”

“Because I heard my father talking about his guest yesterday.”  She fixes limpid eyes on me.  “He said you had the face of a beauty and the manners of a prince, and I wanted to see if it was true.”

“Well, he’s not a prince,” Yao Lin scoffs.  “But he does have good manners.  Not like you.”

“And he is beautiful.  Not like you,” she retorts, sticking out a little pink tongue.

“You threw something at me.”

She giggles.  “Well, I dropped something.  It was too tempting.  Don’t be cross.  Come and see the fish in our pond.”

Without waiting for an answer, she grabs his hand and drags him off, lifting the encumbering skirts with one hand.  I follow at a more leisurely pace, suddenly feeling elderly. 

Xian Long has a collection of carp in a splendid pond filled with lotus plants.  The young lady, we find, is very knowledgeable about all the plants in the garden and she’s also quick-witted, running teasing rings round Yao Lin.  She takes us to her father’s mews, where she handles the birds fearlessly and competently.  She coaxes Yao Lin out of his initial gruffness and gets him laughing with her outrageous comments.  Her father has built a tower in the garden, so we climb it to find that from the top, you can see right over the town walls and the surrounding countryside.  Xian Long’s no fool, I think.  But what did he mean, the manners of a prince?  A chance comment or more than that?

 We make our way slowly back, Xian Lan chattering like one of the birds in the trees.  Hardly surprisingly, Yao Lin looks absolutely mesmerized.  We find the two older men relaxing with wine cups in their hands.  Xian Lan runs to her father and throws her arms round his neck.

“Lanlan, have you been annoying my guests?” he asks, laughing.

“Not at all sir,” I say, “Your daughter has been charming.”

“Hmmm,” says Xian Lang, “Did she throw things at you or put worms down the back of your neck?”

“Nothing like that, Sir Xian,” Yao Lin says, blushing, and is rewarded with a beaming smile.

“Well young man, your father remains unbeaten,” Xian Long says.  “I couldn’t get the better of him.”

“None of us can, sir,” Yao Lin replies.

Yao Yuhan puts his cup down.  “Sir Xian, I have to thank you for your hospitality this afternoon.  It has been balm for the soul.”

“No, no, I should be the one thanking you for your company,” Xian Long says smiling.  “The provincial life can be monotonous.  I understand you’re leaving tomorrow?  I’ll send a couple of my soldiers with you till you reach the caravan, for your protection.”

We say our goodbyes with real gratitude and some regret.  Xian Long and his daughter watch as the sedan chair sways out of the gate.  We turn and wave and they wave back.  Yao Lin sighs.  His father looks very tired but he’s smiling.  He doesn’t need the sleeping potion this evening.  He’s asleep before we finish helping him to bed.  Yao Lin’s unusually quiet as we eat our evening meal.  I ask no questions. 

Xian Long’s as good as his word.  Next morning two stolid-looking soldiers turn up and fall in behind us as we take to the road again.  They hand me a letter from Xian Long, addressed to whomever it may concern and assuring us of his protection.  One of the soldiers also hands a package to Yao Lin.  It contains a little hand-embroidered sachet of scented petals.  His face bright red again, Yao Lin tucks it away as if it’s a precious jewel.  We’ll all remember Orchard Town.