The Old Fort- Shan

 

The day of the games arrives.  Shao Ru and I have followed the pattern of the games we organized on the way to Qiu:  wrestling, sword-fighting, archery and the jiju match to top it all off.  The winners will be invited to the grand banquet in the evening.

The dignitaries went out hunting yesterday and brought back enough game to keep everyone fed for days.  We ordered wine a while ago and it arrived on schedule.  What could possibly go wrong?

“Anything,” says Shao Ru with a snort of laughter.  “It might rain.  Somebody might get killed.  You might miss your four-arrow trick.  Lord Kong might have a heart-attack.  But if anything does happen, my money’s on Kong Guanyu causing it.  He’s been in a filthy mood since his parents arrived.  I’d guess they’ve been pressuring him to measure up.”

I grunt.  “They should leave him alone.  Guanyu always does the opposite of what anyone wants and if they haven’t figured that out yet, they’re fools.”

As it happens, Shao Ru’s observation matches my own.  Guanyu’s determination to win the jiju game borders on obsession.  He’s been driving his team mad with endless practices.  Shao Ru has warned him that this might be counterproductive, but has been ignored. 

“Remember how destructive he used to get back in the day when he couldn’t have his own way?” Shao Ru says glumly, “And he’s got a lot more wilful since then.  Nobody dares talk back to him.”

“We’ll just have to take it as it comes.”

“It’s like managing bloody tigers,” Shao Ru grumbles.

My own mood isn’t exactly sunny either.  These games, intended as a means of entertaining the men and creating team spirit, have become a diplomatic nightmare.  What with all the hoops we’re being required to jump through, my anger and frustration are mounting daily. 

“We’ve just got to hold it together for another couple of days,” I say, more to convince myself than Shao Ru, “And then the whole damn lot of them will piss off back home and leave us alone for the winter.”

“Here’s hoping,” grunts Shao Ru.

It doesn’t rain.  The day’s fine and bright, if a little cold.  The dignitaries in the stand are wrapped in luxurious-looking cloaks.  There’s a bright cluster of womenfolk around Lady Kong.  The Princess is there, with Jia Ju.  There’s also a separate cluster of excited chattering girls and young men:  the dancers and musicians brought in to entertain the guests at the banquets.  And Lord Kong’s surrounded by a group of men of his own age, relatives or friends, as well as by his private guard.  Those soldiers who aren’t taking part in the games are sitting around the ground.  There’s a holiday air.  I think, It’s going to be all right.

And in fact, all goes very well in the morning.  The competitions take place.  No-one’s killed.  Hou He wins the sword-fighting competition, pleasing the crowd, with whom he’s very popular.  Since he took my advice and went to an experienced swordsmith for a new weapon, he’s gone from strength to strength.  He’s also learned not to lose his temper.  The archery competition’s won by the fort’s best hunter, a young man with extraordinary eyesight, while the wrestling champion’s the man who fought Shao Ru in the courtyard when we first arrived.  There is, naturally, an exhibition of mounted archery.  I don’t miss the four-arrow trick and to everyone’s uproarious delight, neither does Hou He, who’s been practicing determinedly since the day of our first challenge.  I slap him on the shoulder in congratulation, grinning.  Lord Kong applauds, rising to his feet and forcing everyone else to do the same.  Hou He’s red with emotion.  He’s having a good day.

At noon, the dignitaries retire to the fort to eat, drink and satisfy natural needs.  The men, chattering, gather round the fire-pits where the meat’s being roasted.

“So far, so good,” says Shao Ru.

Sometime after the meal, the higher-ups return and settle down expectantly.  The temperature’s risen and the cloaks have been abandoned.  It’s time for the teams to assemble for the jiju game.  Apart from the Third Prince, Shao Ru and me, all the players are southerners.  I know immediately that Kong Guanyu’s in a bad place because he won’t meet my eye.  Shao Ru shrugs.  There’s nothing we can do.  The Prince is smiling and excited.  He looks for his wife in the stand and raises his stick to salute her.  The teams bow to Lord Kong and then we’re off.

There was great competition to be in the teams and we selected the best riders, but none of the southerners have had any previous experience playing jiju.  However they all make a very good fist of it.  The play’s fluid, flowing easily from one end of the ground to the other.  Kong Guanyu’s team is the first to score, to an almighty roar from the crowd.  Shao Ru sets the goal up and the young man who hits the ball makes no mistake.  However, the team’s so delighted that they let their guard drop and my team evens the score almost immediately.  After the first break and change of horses, Kong Guanyu seems to be on fire.  He clouts the ball with a sound which echoes round the ground and then chases it down the field.  The ball’s gone a little to the side and doesn’t offer a good strike on goal.  The soldier who hit the first goal is up level with Guanyu and in a better position, but Guanyu doesn’t even look, he wants to do it himself, so he just raises his stick and whacks the ball.  A groan announces that it’s gone wide.  Guanyu swears loudly, his face black.

By half-time, it’s two goals each.  Shao Ru has scored for his team and I’ve set up my best player to score for us.  As we resume, I can see that Guanyu’s team is feeling the strain of his ambitions.  Under his loud and violent urgings, they start to lose their concentration and play wildly.  Another shot goes wide of the goal.  I get the ball and start off down the field, my team racing alongside.  Guanyu screams at his people and sets his horse charging to intercept me.  We’re going to collide, I only avoid it by pulling my horse aside so abruptly that he stumbles and I lose the ball.  Crap, I think, Ah-Yu’s out to get me.  The ball’s gone to the other end, but again there’s no score.  Guanyu’s yelling angrily at his team again, waving his stick.  This happens over and over.  His team can’t seem to score and every time we get the ball, Guanyu employs aggressive tactics that eventually result in one of my players being knocked down, fortunately without serious injury to man or horse.  During the break that follows, Shao Ru comes over and says briefly, “Be careful.  He’s lost it.”

I don’t need to be told.  I warn my team to watch out and stay clear of trouble.  But again Guanyu attacks our goal, ignores a better-placed player and whacks the ball way outside.  Time’s running out.  Well, a draw’s an honourable result.  But then the ball drops at my horse’s feet and  I see instantly that I have a clear run to the goal.  To hell with a draw.  I set off, aware that Guanyu’s spurring his horse cruelly on a direct course to intercept me.  And I know that he has no intention of playing the ball or even just colliding with me, because his stick’s raised above shoulder level.  He’s going to knock me off my horse.

In your dreams, Ah-Yu.  In this final quarter I’m riding Swift again and he knows what to do.  As Guanyu swipes viciously at me, Swift lowers his head and swerves, while I duck down low on his neck.  Guanyu’s stick whistles over our heads.  Losing his balance, he lurches forward in the saddle, his horse stumbles, he pitches forward and it’s only through excellent horsemanship that he manages to hang on and avoid the total humiliation of falling off.  Swift and I gallop after the ball, the goal’s open before us.  Don’t fuck this up, I say to myself, and mercifully I don’t.  With a hugely satisfying crack, my stick hits the ball directly into the goal.

We’ve won.  Fuck you all.  We’ve won.

As we line up for Lord Kong’s congratulations, I see that Kong Guanyu has disappeared, abandoning his team to its disappointment.  It’s Shao Ru who goes round clapping everyone on the shoulder and consoling them.  Lord Kong’s lavish in his praise.  The ladies are clapping, their faces flushed, while the dancers and musicians are jumping up and down and shouting.  The Third Prince is inarticulate in his enthusiasm.  With his big grin and his red face, he suddenly looks like a schoolboy.

All I want is to soak in a deep hot bath.

Back in our apartment, away from the sunlight, the dust and the noise, I wearily strip off my clothes and ease myself into the water.  I’m bruised and battered.  I long for my bed, but there’s still this bloody banquet to endure.

Shao Ru comes in, having seen to our horses.  “Well, that was some game.  The bastard could’ve killed you.  Did it feel good, scoring the winning goal?”

“It felt great.  Though it was probably undiplomatic.”

“Sod diplomacy.  There’s a limit to how much crap we’re expected to take.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“There’s just this banquet to get through.” He suddenly sounds a little anxious.  “I’m not looking forward to it much.”

“It’s just eating, drinking and being polite.”

“It’s the last one I have trouble with.”

“Just stick to eating and drinking, then.  Hand me that cloth, will you?”

“I wish they’d all just bugger off and leave us to it.”

“Hang in there, Ah-Ru, it’s just another day or so.”

The banquet’s arranged so that the higher-ups are all on a dais while the rest of us are arranged below, one jiju team on each side and the other winners divided amongst us.  It’s clear from the embarrassed faces that many of these men have never been to a formal banquet before and aren’t too sure what to do.

Lord Kong starts off by congratulating the winners and handing out rewards, a process which he mercifully doesn’t prolong.  Then we start on the food, while a bevy of dancers in floating garments takes to the floor to entertain us.  Luckily we all know how to eat and drink.  I’ve got Hou He on one side of me and our tables get merry very quickly.  I notice that Kong Guanyu’s  on the dais with his parents and not with his team, a choice which the men around me have noticed.  Even Hou He makes a mildly critical comment.   Kong Guanyu’s clearly on the wrong side of public opinion about this.  He’s drinking heavily, his face sullen.  His mother can’t hide her exasperation.  The Third Prince and Princess, side by side, are whispering and smiling together, a pleasant sight.

As the buzz of conversation gets louder, the dancers float away and people start to get up to go and salute their friends.  But Lord Kong gets our attention by clapping his hands.  “Commander Liao,” he says.

Oh fuck, what now?

I get up and bow.  Lord Kong’s smiling.  “My son informs me that you have other talents than archery and swordplay.  Your less warlike accomplishments include the sword-dance, if I’m not mistaken.”

Guanyu, you bastard.

Across the room, Shao Ru’s red-faced with indignation.  Kong Guanyu’s smirking.

I bow again.  “Yes, my Lord.”

“Would you favour us, Commander?  It’s been many years since I’ve seen this performed and many of us have never seen it.”

“It would be a pleasure, my Lord.”

“Please use my sword.”  He hands it to Ren Baiyi, who’s standing behind the Third Prince’s chair.  Ren Baiyi brings it to me.  It’s one of the finest I’ve ever seen, with gold and silver inlay and jewels encrusted in the hilt.

“Just don’t break it,” Ren Baiyi whispers.

“I feel like breaking somebody’s head.”

 “I know the one.  I’ll help you.”

I walk over to the musicians, who are whispering and nudging one another in excitement.  One of the lads knows a suitably rhythmic piece of music.  We confer for a moment, then I walk out into the centre of the hall and take up my position.

Fortunately, I haven’t drunk too much.  The hot bath has taken away the worst of the aches and pains.  But nothing can take away the fury in my mind.  Kong Guanyu’s stupid petty revenge has got me performing like a tame animal for the entertainment of the company.  My anger transforms itself into savagery.  As the dance progresses, it becomes fierce - a threat and a challenge.  I hear gasps from the audience as the sword whistles repeatedly through the air.  Other musicians take up the rhythm as it gets faster and faster and then I bring the whole thing to a climax and finish kneeling on one knee, the sword held out across both my hands.

There’s pandemonium.  People rush out, ignoring protocol, to slap me on the back and stammer their praise.  Ren Baiyi prudently takes the sword back before somebody gets themselves impaled on it.  The higher-ups are applauding enthusiastically, though Kong Guanyu’s seat is empty.  I’m hardly aware of Lord Kong’s praise, which is fulsome.  But the embarrassment of the evening isn’t over yet, for Lady Kong adds her praise to her husband’s and then turns to him and says, “My Lord, we must find a suitable wife for the Commander.  A gentle southern lady will bring him happiness.”

By now my relationship with Jinhai is common knowledge in the fort, so this suggestion evokes a mixture of hilarity and embarrassment.  But in blithe ignorance, Lady Kong continues, “Would you find this agreeable, Commander?”

I bow.  “My Lady, forgive me, but I’m unable to accept your offer.  I have taken a vow not to marry without the permission of my liege lord.”

“But your liege lord’s here,” Lady Kong continues, looking round at the Third Prince, “Why don’t we ask him?”

The Prince rises to his feet and bows.  “Mother,” he says, in a voice that could soothe tigers, “The men of my guard have been lent me by my Sixth Brother, Prince Jinhai.  He is their liege lord.”

Nice one. 

Lady Kong’s mouth forms a round O of disappointment.  She’s about to say something else, but her husband lays his hand on her arm and shakes his head slightly.  To my relief, I’m allowed to retire, still surrounded by people congratulating me.  The dancers are clamouring to be taught the sword-dance and I promise to meet them next day.  Then I escape, thankfully, to my quarters.

Where Kong Guanyu’s waiting for me.