Shan

 

This is going to be the hardest ride of my life, harder even than my frantic quest to find Jinhai, because now I have to keep this group of people together and get them to safety.  But I have Shao Ru and Ren Baiyi by my side, and we fall immediately back into old familiar ways.  Zi Wuying is level-headed and reliable and fits in with ease.  Shao Ru and I are in excellent condition after a month’s hard training and the two young men are very fit and have the energy of youth.  Wan Ning’s military days aren’t all that far behind him and although he’s older than all of us except Li Wei, he quickly gets into the routine.  It’s the other two members of the party who cause concern.

 Li Wei’s physical condition is our most immediate worry.  At our first camping-place, as the two young men light a fire and start to prepare food, my first concern is to treat his wounds, about which he has said nothing.  Reluctantly, he allows me to unwrap the bloodstained rags on his hand.  The fingernails are missing.  Shao Ru sees my sudden stillness and comes over.  He sucks his breath in.  “Salt water.  I’ll get it.”

I look at Li Wei.  “What else?” 

“Burns.  On my back.”

“May I look?”

He nods, so I lift the robe away from his shoulders and see burn-marks all down his spine.  I have a jar of Liang Zhou’s wound ointment in my pack.  Li Wei makes no sound as I carefully dab it on.  Shao Ru comes back with a pan of salty water.  “Stick your fingers in there, sir,” he says.  Li Wei obeys.  A small grim smile appears.  “The remedies are worse than the injuries,” he observes.

Shao Ru grins.  “That’s what everyone says.  What about the teeth?”

“Knocked clean out.”

“Best way.  Nice and neat.  You didn’t get off too badly then.”

“No.  Du Xun’s cruelty was more subtle.  He tortured my son.”

The faces round the camp-fire all turn towards us.  Li Wei’s voice is quiet.  “Du Xun had no mercy.  Zichen begged me not to confess, but it came to a point where I couldn’t bear to see him suffer any more.  I was going to sign anything they wanted.  So he hanged himself from the bars of his cell.”

It’s completely silent except for the crackling of the fire.  My throat’s choked with pity.  Finally I say, “Your son was a very brave man, sir.”

“Yes, he was.  After that I couldn’t let him down.”

“We heard he’d been executed.”

“A lie.  The Palace has to be seen to be in control.”

“Don’t you worry, sir.” Shao Ru's voice is tight.  “We’ll get our revenge.”

Sir Li’s injuries are painful and unpleasant, but not life-threatening.  However months of prison food and unsanitary conditions have left him terribly weak.  The long hours of riding are agony for him, though I try to make him as comfortable as possible by padding the saddle with my quilt.  Yet in spite of all this, and the grief he must be feeling over his son’s death, he remains courteous, cooperative and uncomplaining.   Our respect for him grows daily.

The Third Prince is our second problem.  He’s not trained as we are, not used to continual hard riding and the inevitable hardships involved in living on the run, sleeping on the ground, enduring bad weather and eating basic rations. He’s no use when we make camp, he’s never had to take care of a horse or cook his own food.  He’s also deeply depressed by the failure of his plans.  He’s still young, he hasn’t learned that life’s a long game.  He sits silently by the fire when we camp and doesn’t participate in the fireside conversation.  He clearly doesn’t like being on the receiving end of orders, though he recognizes that someone has to be in charge and that of necessity, I am that someone.

At my order, we have left our uniforms behind at the training camp and resumed our disguise as horse-traders, so the few people we meet on the road don’t look at us twice.  We’ve been travelling as fast as I know how: changing horses, riding into the night, leaving early in the morning, travelling by moonlight when we can.  Of necessity, we’re following the main road, but the weather has suddenly turned sour, which paradoxically acts in our favour by discouraging other travelers. 

There’s been no sign of pursuit so far.  I can’t quite believe this.  Neither can Shao Ru, riding at the back and continually looking behind.  “Aren’t they coming after us?” he says in a low voice as we sit by the camp-fire. “It’s been three days now and we haven’t even seen a courier.  If we do see one, we’d better nobble him, find out what’s going on.”

“Agreed.  Keep your eyes open.”

We don’t wait long.  The following day, a cloud of dust in the distance announces someone riding hard behind us.  I call a halt and order everyone to the side of the road.  There’s a bit of windblown greenery which affords some cover.  The rider approaches.  He’s wearing the insignia of the Imperial courier service: a small thin man, as couriers tend to be, his face set, at full gallop.  As he gets near, Shao Ru rides out into the road, holds up the gold Imperial token and roars, “Stop in the name of the Emperor!”

Dammit, this bluff works every time.  The horse rears up, pulled violently to a halt.  The courier’s face is covered with dust.  He stares and stammers, “What – who…?”

“Change of plan,” says Shao Ru amicably.  His fist flashes out and the courier’s limp body lifts off the horse and drops in the dirt.

We tie him up and deposit him by the side of the road while we search his saddlebags and his person.  He’s carrying one message:  instructions to all the command posts up ahead on the road to be on the watch for the renegade Third Prince. 

“Bring him round,” I order.

Shao Ru splashes water in the courier’s face.  He’s scarcely more than a lad.  He coughs and opens his eyes, staring round in fright.  The dirt on his face has become muddy streaks.

“We need some information.” Shao Ru's manner is deceptively friendly.  “Be a good boy and answer our questions.”

“I – I can’t,” he says, gasping.  “We’re not allowed.”

“We won’t tell if you don’t.  Anyone coming after us?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“Try again.”  Shao Ru takes his knife out and starts to pare his nails with it. 

The lad stares at it, trembling.  “I – I heard there’s a troop coming this way.”

“Good boy.  How far behind?”  Shao Ru tickles the boy under the chin with the knife.

“A day, p-perhaps a day and a half.”

“How many men?”

“Fifty.  That’s what I heard.  They sent p-people north, south, east and west to bring the Third Prince back.”

Shao Ru and I look at one another.  “It must have taken them a while to figure out what’s going on,” I say.  “Lucky for us.  All right, youngster.  You never saw us. You were attacked by bandits who took your message-pouch.  Wait till dark and then carry on.  The slower the better.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asks disbelievingly.

“We’re not murderers.”

“But – but – you’ll have to injure me.”

”What?” says Shao Ru.

“You’ve got to injure me.  If I turn up without my pouch and I’m not injured, I’ll be executed.  That’s the rule.”

“But we don’t want to injure you,” Shao Ru says.

“You’ve got to.  Break my arm.  That’ll do it.”

“It’ll hurt like hell.”

“I don’t care.  If you don’t do it, I’ll lose my head.”

“Untie him,” I say, resignedly.

We don’t give him time to think about it.  Shao Ru moves fast, we all hear the bone break, and the boy drops in a faint again.

“Splint it up while he’s unconscious,” I say.

When he comes round again, we’ve seen to his injury and are preparing to mount up.  We’ve caught his horse and tethered it nearby.  I bring him his water bottle.  “Tell them a village doctor patched you up.  Take a rest and go on when you feel strong enough.”

“Yes.  Thank you,” he whispers.

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

Shao Ru’s chuckling as I swing back up on Swift behind Li Wei.  “That’s the damnedest thing I ever heard.”

“Let’s move.  Eyes open.”

That night by the fire, the Third Prince says, “Why didn’t you kill him?  He’ll tell them he saw us.”

“I’m hoping he won’t.  I might be wrong, but gratitude’s a very powerful thing.  And as I said, we’re not murderers.”

He mulls this over for a while.  Then he asks, “Aren’t you worried about the pursuit?”

“I reckon we can keep ahead of them long enough to get to the southern border.  It was danger ahead on the road that I was afraid of.  With luck, we’ve prevented that.  If I may ask, sir, was there much incriminating evidence in the mansion?”

“Correspondence.  We didn’t have time …..”

“With whom?”

“The southern lords.”

“Anyone else?  General Chen?  Yuan Song?”

“No, communication with them was all by word of mouth.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.  “That’s good.  The Palace will be looking for people to blame.  May I ask, sir, what was your understanding with the southern lords?”

“My contact was with Lord Kong.  He sent me funds in exchange for concessions for the southern provinces when.... if ……….”  His voice trails off.

Shao Ru says the obvious thing.  “Does he know we’re coming?”

The Third Prince looks anxious and embarrassed at the same time.  “He knew that I’d be making a move soon.  But there was no time to send a message.”

“It wouldn’t arrive before we do anyway,” I say. “We’ll just have to explain ourselves when we get there.”

Shao Ru grins.  “That’ll be interesting.  Let’s hope they don’t kill us before they’ve heard what we have to say.”

“What’s the situation in the south?” asks Ren Baiyi.  “Who’s this Lord Kong?”

Li Wei explains.  “The southern provinces are largely self-governed.  There are three principal Lords:  Kong Ling, Zu Bao and Teng Mu.  They used to send soldiers and grain to the capital in the past, but in recent years they’ve been dragging their heels because the Palace has grown too greedy.  They want complete autonomy, but the Dowager Empress has always refused because she wants control of their farmlands.  Hence the recent war.”

“Lord Kong’s the most powerful,” Wan Ning puts in.  “He’s maintained a military presence on the border since our army withdrew.”

“What sort of army do they have?” I ask.

“Each lord has his own private force but the armies were amalgamated to fight the war.  Currently there are two or three hundred men in winter-quarters a short distance behind the border.  The others have gone home.”

“If I may make a suggestion, Your Highness,” I say, “We need to decide on a strategy.  We’re in a weak position.  We’re running for our lives.  You owe Lord Kong money.  We’re also the enemy they’ve been fighting recently.  But we can’t appear to be begging.  We have to take a confident approach.”

Shao Ru grins.  “In a word, bluff.”

I go on.  “You need resources.  They want autonomy.  We should offer a treaty of cooperation, trade concessions and a decent return on the investment once you’re in power.”

“Do you think they’d accept?” Wan Ning asks.

“If Lord Kong’s smart, yes.  It won’t cost them much.  We’re not asking them to put lives on the line.  We just want shelter and enough resources to set up communications with our friends in the capital and the army.  It’s a drop in the bucket for them.  But the potential rewards are very great.”

“Lord Kong’s a clever man, from what I’ve heard,” Li Wei says musingly, “I think, Your Highness, that Commander Liao’s suggestion is a good one.”

The Third Prince is frowning.  “What do you mean by a return on their investment?”

“Thrones don’t come cheap,” I say. 

Li Wei hides a smile.

 “Very well,”  says the Third Prince, his voice reluctant.

“So all we have to do now,” says Shao Ru cheerfully, “Is stay alive.”

The weather improves as we ride south.  We still see no signs of pursuit.  According to my calculations, we’re pulling further ahead every day.  Fifty men travel more slowly than six, and fifty horses need more water and forage than a dozen.  All the same, we avoid towns as much as we can.  Deprived of the luxury of hay, the horses eat grass and get thinner.  When our rations run out, Shao Ru, a good bargainer, is sent into a village to get supplies. 

As we go on, the Third Prince gets used to the routine and starts to come out of his depression.  Fumblingly, he learns to make camp-fires and cook rice.  He starts to take care of his own horses, a little shamed, I suspect, by our casual efficiency.  And to my surprise, despite the difficult conditions, Li Wei’s health is showing signs of improvement.  Fresh air and simple rations are just what his weakened system needs.  He becomes a little stronger every day.  A week or so into the journey, he insists on riding on his own for a few hours a day, which relieves me of what’s undeniably become a serious burden, a fact of which I think he’s well aware. 

It’s obvious that he and the Third Prince have a very good relationship, dating from the days when he was a minister in the old Emperor’s government.  The Prince treats him like a much-loved uncle, while he offers wise advice and calm support.  While I’m treating his burns one evening, away from the others, I take the opportunity to ask, “Do you think the Prince will make a good Emperor, sir?”

”With guidance and patience, yes.  He doesn’t have his elder brothers’ flaws.  He has a kind heart and a sense of justice.  But his confidence has taken a battering.  He thought it would be easy, but he’s finding out that nothing ever is.  You and your men are excellent examples for him.”

“It’s what we’re trained for.”

“We both owe you our lives.  Someday I hope we’ll be able to reward you all as you deserve.”

“We’re not there yet,” I say with a grin.  “And when we do get there, things will be tough.  We need to be prepared.”

“Yes, I understand.”  He hesitates.  “If I may ask - I’ve never met the Sixth Prince.  How does he compare to Yan Jianhong?”

What do I say?  That he’s beautiful, intelligent, courageous, charismatic and I love him entirely?

“He’s very different.  He has an excellent strategic brain, which I think he gets from his grandfather General Liu.  He’s courageous and determined.  He has a bright and cheerful personality and a knack for getting on with people.”

“Is he ambitious?”

“Only in the sense that he wants to live his own life.  He certainly doesn’t want to be Emperor if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“One needs to be sure.”

“Sir, I’ll trust you enough to tell you a secret, but I must have your word that it goes no further, especially not to His Highness.”

“You have my word.”  He sounds a little surprised.

“Jinhai believes your friend Lord Zhao is his father.  Lord Zhao believes it too.”

“Lord Zhao?”  Clearly this is news to him.  He thinks about it for a moment.  “I suppose it’s possible.  There were circumstances surrounding his birth….   But why doesn’t he want his brother to know?”

“He does, but he wants to tell him personally.  And there was no opportunity before we had to leave.”

“I see.  Lord Zhao’s son.” He sighs, no doubt thinking about his own son’s dreadful end. 

The end of our journey’s now in sight.  The approach to the southern border is disfigured by the familiar signs of war:  the bones of horses picked clean by scavengers, rusted weapons, broken carts and all the filth of an occupying army.  It’s a desolate sight.  We soldiers have seen it before, but the Prince gulps audibly and Li Wei’s very silent.

“Listen up,” I say to my small band of people, “We’ll be spotted soon, if we haven’t been already, and we’re going to be shadowed till the challenge comes.  We’ll go at a steady pace.  Keep your hands in sight and under no circumstances reach for a weapon.  Got it?”

They get it.

“Your Highness, keep your identity token in your hand.  Ah-Ru, when they challenge us, you and I do the talking.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Let’s go.”

We don’t have to go far.  We ride through a no-man’s-land criss-crossed with ditches and mounds, to see a dozen men on horseback waiting on the other side.  More men close in silently behind us.

“Keep going,” I say quietly, “Wait till we can see their eyes.  Stay calm.”

We pull up within eyeshot.  A man walks his horse a little forward.  He’s young, broad-shouldered, his hair a wild arrangement of plaits and gold clasps, his chin shaven except for a long thin strand of beard plaited and entwined with gold.  He’s wearing one gold earring and a sneer.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he asks.

Shao Ru employs his herald’s voice.  “His Imperial Highness Third Prince Yan Jianhong has come to parley with Lord Kong Ling of the Southern Lands.”

“Another Yan rat,” says a voice behind the leader and they all laugh, cold-eyed.

“What makes you think Lord Kong Ling wants to parley with His Imperial Highness?” the leader enquires, with derisive emphasis.

Shao Ru’s voice is amiable.  “Well, unless you ask him, you’ll never know,”

“We want to make Lord Kong an offer which he’ll find very interesting,” I say.  “Please convey a message to Lord Kong at once.”

The leader urges his horse a little further forward, his eyes fixed on my face.  “And who might you be?” he enquires.

“Liao Shan, Commander of the Third Prince’s guard.  Who’s asking?”

He doesn’t like that.  In a flash of movement, his sword is out and pointed directly at me.  My people half-react, but I raise my voice, “Don’t move!” and they subside.  I’m eye-to-eye with this man.  His sword’s a whisker away from my undefended throat.  His face is menacing.

This is bad.