The town’s still bustling even at this late hour, but there’s a decided drift of people towards the gate.  I go back to the stables to collect Blaze.  The other two horses are dozing peacefully but the grey dog rises to his feet and shakes himself.

“See you guys tomorrow,” I say softly as I lead Blaze out into the night.  Back at camp, I climb wearily into the Yao wagon, move Lai Xue back onto his quilt and fall asleep with my boots on. 

My first thought when I wake up in the morning is, I’ll be seeing him again soon.  And then I suddenly find myself feeling shy at the thought, which is perfectly ridiculous considering what we were doing yesterday.  But I’m jumpy and nervous all morning, expecting him to show up at any moment.  In fact, it’s not till we’re eating lunch that it finally happens. 

“Gosh, who’s that guy with old Hao Meng?” Yao Lin says in an awestruck voice.

Lei Qing, Lai Xue and I all turn our heads together and my heart bounds.   

‘He looks cool,” says Yao Lin.

“Scary,” Lai Xue says.

“Competent,” says Lei Qing.

He looks all those things.  I’m not used to seeing him dressed in black.  It makes him look taller and leaner.  With the short hair, he looks like a stranger.  A pang of desire rises up my spine and I gasp involuntarily.  Yao Lin looks at me anxiously.  “Are you all right, Ah-Jing?”

“Indigestion,” I say, thinking quickly.

“It’s this pork-belly,” Xai Lue says. “Very fatty.”  Then in a stage whisper he adds, “They’re coming over.”

Hao Meng’s looking pleased.  “Young’uns, this is Zhan Shuren.  I’ve hired him to oversee the caravan.  Sir Zhan, let me introduce Young Master Zhao, Young Master Yao, Young Master Lai and Young Miss Lei.”

Shan bows and we respond like a row of nodding ducks.

“We’re going to start inspecting the wagons,” Hao Meng continues, “So if you’ve finished, Young Master Zhao…”

It clearly doesn’t matter whether I’ve finished or not.  I hastily gulp down what’s left in my bowl and follow them.  Naturally, we start with the Zhu family.  Madam Zhu gives us a sour look, arms folded defiantly.  “Come to annoy us?” she says to Hao Meng.

“Wife, wife…”  Zhu Min appears from inside the wagon, clucking.  “What can we do for you, Sir Hao?”

Hao Meng introduces Shan and the parties salute one another.  Shan says, “Sir Zhu, we’ve just come to check what repairs you need.  I understand you have three wagons? What weight of cargo are you carrying?”

As you might expect, Zhu Min knows the weight of his cargo down to the last ounce. 

“All in one wagon?"  Shan says, frowning, “That’s far too much for four horses to pull.  You should spread the weight among your other wagons.”

“Ah, I and my wife and two children are travelling in the second wagon, with all our baggage."

“And the third?”

“Well, my two elder sons are in the third wagon.”

“I’d recommend that you take the excess from the cargo wagon and transfer it to the third.”

“Ah, I’m not sure my sons …….”

I’ve learned how to handle Zhu Min.  I cough and say politely.  “If I may, Sir Zhu, if the horses and wagons break down from overloading, there’ll be delay and, of course, extra expense.” 

Zhu Min dithers, wringing his hands.  We all wait.

Madam Zhu says, “It’s a sensible idea, husband, isn’t it?  We don’t want extra expenses and the boys do have the wagon all to themselves.”

“That’s settled then,” says Hao Meng briskly.  “We’ll help you transfer the stuff, if you show us what to move.”

Zhu Min agrees, but he looks very anxious.  I’m itching to know what Zhu Yu’s response will be.  When we get to his wagon with the first boxes of merchandise, Zhu Min clears his throat nervously and calls, “Ah-Yu.”

An ungracious voice from inside says, “What?”

“Could you come out here a minute, please?”  Zhu Min’s tone is placatory.

After a few moments, the wagon door opens.  Zhu Yu has an exasperated look on his face.  “What now?" he says.

“Ah-Yu, we need to store these boxes in the wagon.”

“What for?”

“Young Master Zhu, the weight in the wagons needs to be distributed evenly,” Shan says.  “So your father needs to store the boxes here.”

The lad runs an insolent eye over Shan.  “And who might you be?” he asks, drawling.

“My new man, Zhan Shuren,” says Hao Meng in the same brisk tone.  “Now if you’ll just stand aside, Young Master…” and he pushes his way up the steps.

“Father, you can’t do this,” Zhu Yu protests, “I need the space.”

Inside we find the younger boy who, unlike his brother, gets up and salutes us politely.  We start to stack the boxes.

“Take these boxes away immediately,” Zhu Yu orders angrily.  “I think my father’s made a mistake.”

“No mistake, Young Master,” says Hao Meng. 

“Father!” exclaims the lad, glaring at the unfortunate Zhu Min.

“Now, Ah-Yu, it’s for the best.  We don’t want the wagons to break down.”

Shan comes up the steps with another box.  “Mind your feet,” he says to the lad, smiling. 

Despite Zhu Yu's protests, the boxes are speedily piled up against the walls of the wagon.

“Does this wagon need any repairs?” Shan asks, ignoring the fury in the boy's face.

“How the fuck would I know?  Ask my servant.”  Sitting down at the table, he picks up a book and starts reading.

After this inauspicious start, we make our way from wagon to wagon, Hao Meng introducing Shan as we go.  Most of the wagons are in good condition, but the Yao wagon’s a different story.   As we approach, Yao Lin comes down the steps and salutes us politely.  “Please forgive my father.  He can’t come outside easily.”

A voice from inside calls, “Please come in.”

Inside, Yao Yuhan smiles at me and greets Hao Meng politely.  He and Shan exchange salutes. 

“No need to disturb yourself, Sir Yao.” Hao Meng says, “We just need to see if your wagon needs anything done.”

This is the oldest and shabbiest wagon.  Unfortunately, the inspection reveals that the pole’s cracked and the back axle’s been mended so many times there’s little left of the original wood.  That’s not to mention all the gaps and cracks in the housing.  The wheels, at least, are new.

“New axle needed,” Shan says briefly, “The pole can be patched up to be going on with.  This gets priority when the carpenters arrive.”

Having checked out the wagons, we turn to the horses.  “The horses should all be picketed together,” Shan says, “I see some of them haven’t been watered today.  Who looks after them?”

“The servants,” I reply, “But the masters demand priority so the horses get neglected.”

Shan frowns again.  “That’ll have to stop.  Sir Hao, I suggest we get everybody together this evening and lay down some ground rules.”

The carpenters arrive a little later and get to work on the repairs.  Shan and Hao Meng go into a huddle to discuss the route and other organizational matters.  The men whom Sir Lai has sent back along the road to assess the state of the damaged wagon come back shaking their heads.  Repairs will take too long.  Sir Lai buys another wagon.  Lei Qing breathes a sigh of relief.

In the early evening, Hao Meng calls a meeting of all the merchants.  They’re a little surprised at the summons.  From where I’m placed, I can see Shan standing with his arms folded, waiting for everyone to arrive   Zhu Yu and Fang Tian are there.  Yao Lin, Lai Xue and Lei Qing are standing with me.  None of the other women are visible, not even Madam Zhu, though I imagine they’re all listening avidly inside the wagons.

This is Shan in full Commander mode.  He mentions the security of the caravan and the need to ensure that the merchants and their goods arrive safely in the capital.  There’s murmuring and nodding of heads.  He goes on to outline the measures he’s come up with:  better organization of the encampment, picketing of horses, sanitary measures.  I hope I’m not going to be digging latrines again. 

Then he says, “I noticed this morning that some of the horses hadn’t been adequately fed and watered and I understand that this is because your servants are instructed to give you priority.”  He pauses and looks round.  “I can’t emphasize enough that your horses are your lifeline and their wellbeing comes before anything else.  If you find yourselves out in the wilderness with no horses, you’ll be easy pickings for any robber that comes along, not to mention the delay, inconvenience and expense.  So I insist that our first priority on camping is the watering and feeding of the horses.  With your permission, I’ll speak to your servants and make it clear that this is their duty.”

There’s more acquiescent muttering and nodding.

“Now,” Shan goes on, “It’s come to my attention that sometimes these horses are used for joy-riding after the day’s journey.  This has to stop, for obvious reasons.  The horses have done a long day’s work and need to be rested.  So if I find anyone using them for joy-riding, that person will be walking for the whole of the next day.  I hope I’m clear.”

We all look at Zhu Yu, who says something under his breath to Fang Tian.  Fang Tian sniggers.

“Finally,” says Shan, “I’m planning to help your guards brush up their martial arts.  If any of you young men would like to be trained in sword-fighting and archery, you’re very welcome to join in.  Any questions?”

There are none.   Zhu Yu turns and walks away, Fang Tian hurrying after him.  The older men disperse slowly, talking in low voices.  Yao Lin and Lei Qing come forward rather hesitantly and address Shan.  “Sir, if it’d be all right, we’d really like to join in the training.”

“I’ll be glad to have you,” says Shan, smiling.  “We’ll be starting tomorrow afternoon.  I hope some of the others will join in too.  How about you, Young Master Zhao?”

“Um, yes,” I say, taken aback at being addressed so suddenly.  I feel I’m blushing.  “I’d be honoured.”

Hao Meng strolls over.   “Very impressive,” he says to Shan.  “Let’s hope no-one gives us any trouble.”

That evening, Hao Meng brings Shan over to our camp-fire for supper.  Madam Zhong’s bending over her cooking-pots.  She looks up, surprised, as Shan bows politely and presents her with a box of supplies.  “Sir Hao says Madam Zhong’s the best cook in camp.  But I can’t take advantage of her generosity unless she accepts this humble gift.”

Madam Zhong smiles and blushes slightly.  “Sir Zhan, you’re very welcome.  I appreciate your kindness.  Please join us.”

He looks round and chooses to sit next to me.  I feel my face heating up.  Luckily, it probably doesn’t show in the firelight.  There’s a little awkwardness at first, but Shan makes a few easy comments and everyone soon relaxes.  Yao Lin and Lai Xue start bickering about something and Lei Qing squashes them with an elder-sisterly remark.  They appeal to me to settle the matter.  The grey dog pushes in between Shan and me and settles down.  It’s all very much like a family.  But I’m acutely aware of Shan’s presence, so close.  It’s almost as if we really have only just met.

Trouble comes the very next day.  We wake to find that Zhu Yu has had all the boxes removed from his wagon and stacked on the ground in front of it.  He himself is sitting on the wagon steps, waiting for Shan’s reaction.  Shan gives him a long look, but says nothing.  The boy’s father's fussing about, wringing his hands.  As we watch, the grey dog trots over, sniffs at the boxes, then lifts a hind leg and urinates copiously.  The boxes are sandalwood, expensive.  Zhu Min casts a flustered look at us, then at his son.  He calls for his son’s servant.  “Put these boxes back in Young Master’s wagon,” he orders.

The boxes are heavy.  The servant’s red-faced and puffing by the time everything’s back in place.  Zhu Yu sends Shan a look which is a declaration of war, and disappears inside. 

An idea occurs to me.  After the midday meal, I wander over to where the servants are eating their own food.  There are three Zhu servants.  One’s an elderly man who looks like an old family retainer. Zhu Yu’s personal servant is a sturdy young peasant.  The third servant’s a thin boy of about Zhu Yu’s age.  They get to their feet as I approach, so I salute, smile and ask if they have any questions about the new arrangements for camping.  They shake their heads.  I say they must let me know if there are any problems. 

Then I say, “About those boxes in the Young Master’s wagon….”

The elderly man’s eyes become beady.

“Those boxes must be very heavy,” I observe to Zhu Yu’s servant, “I hope you didn’t hurt your back lifting them.  If this were to happen again, you might end up doing yourself a serious injury.  It would be very inconvenient.”

“Oh no.”  The servant is evidently no genius, “I can carry any amount of weight.”  As proof, he flexes his arm to show off his muscles.

The elderly man sighs and cuffs him on the back of the head.  “Listen to what Young Master’s saying, melon-head.  Or do you want to be lifting those boxes in and out every day?”

“Ah?” the man says, puzzled.

“If Young Master Zhu persists in this behaviour,” I go on thoughtfully, “It will cause much frustration and delay and your Master will lose face.”

The elderly man bows and says, “I understand, Young Master.  Leave it to me.  I’ll tell this melon-head what to do.”

Shan’s planning to start training our fellow-guards today, so he sends me into town to buy half a dozen wooden swords.  His manner’s brisk and impersonal.  No-one would ever think we know each other.  When I get back, I check in on the Yao wagon.  The pole's been braced with iron plates, the back axle replaced and various holes patched up.  Yao Yuhan greets me courteously.  “So this new man’s going to train Ah-Lin to use a sword?”

“Yes, Ah-Lin volunteered.  He looks as if he might be handy at fighting.”

“It’ll be good for him.  This is an intelligent move on the part of Sir Zhan.  I hear he used to be in the army too?”

“Ah, is that so?”  I’m taken by surprise and feel myself reddening yet again.

“He certainly seems used to command,” Yao Yuhan observes.

Quite a crowd gathers to watch the first training session.  The three backsides in saddles have spent the previous night in town and are rather the worse for wear.  They don’t look particularly athletic.  Shan tests their skills, each in turn.  Although they all habitually carry swords, their skills are derisory and Shan disarms each one in less than three minutes.  Yao Lin, standing next to me, can hardly contain his excitement.  Then Shan looks at me.  “Now you, Young Master Zhao,” he says.

Everyone’s watching.  I walk out, pick up a wooden sword, face him and salute.  He returns the salute, a smile at the corner of his mouth.  We begin.  We’ve done this a hundred times in the past.  I know there’s no way I can beat Shan.  I’m unequal in height, weight, reach and experience.  But then very few people could beat him.  At least I can put up some sort of fight.  As we spar with one another, the crowd starts to murmur.  My concentration slips for a moment but Shan recalls it with a smart blow to my arm.  “Keep your guard up,” he says.  I wince and pull myself together.  “That’s it, good,” he says.  But there’s only one way it can end.  He steps up his speed, disarms me, catches my arm and pulls me against him with his wooden sword at my throat.

“Got you,” he says softly.  I feel his breath in my hair and shiver.  He releases me almost immediately and looks round.  “Young Master Zhao will assist me,” he says.  He turns to the three guards.  “Let’s start.  Anyone else wants to join in?”

Yao Lin steps forward and grabs a sword.  And then Lei Qing takes one too.  There’s a stir of movement and a murmur of sound.  Someone says, “You can’t learn to fight, you’re a girl.”

Lei Qing turns to face them.  “I can do what I want.  And I want to be able to defend myself and my mother.”

“Many women learn martial arts,” Shan says, “Young Miss Lei’s welcome to join us.  Anyone else?”

The training session’s energetic.  The three men are frankly hopeless, uncoordinated and out of breath after only a few minutes.  The two young people, however, are very promising.  Lei Qing has a look of determined concentration on her face as she goes through the moves, but Yao Lin’s a natural, he’s loving every minute of it.  After a short time, the spectators lose interest and wander away.  Shan calls a halt after an hour.

“We’ll practise every day,” he says.  “Keep the swords and practise on your own when you have time.  Your arm and leg muscles will be aching tomorrow – work through it.  If you’ve got blisters on your hands, wrap your hands with soft cloth next time.”

“I’ve got some ointment for blisters if anyone needs it,” I add.

The men don’t seem to need any medicine, or else they won’t admit it, but Lei Qing comes over to me wincing. 

“My hands are too soft,” she says.

“They’ll harden,” I reassure her, “I had the same problem when I started learning.  Wrap some padding round the handle of the sword.  Did you enjoy it?”

She smiles.  “Yes, yes I did.  It felt really good.”

Shan’s talking to Yao Lin.  As we watch, he pats the boy on the shoulder and Yao Lin turns away and comes towards us, hero-worship all over his face.  “That was amazing,” he says.