The capital - Jinhai

 

After hearing Duan Bai’s news about a possible assassin, sleep doesn’t come very easily.  My imagination runs riot, thinking up all kinds of scenarios, all ending badly.  I get up feeling ragged.  We’re having a rather dismal breakfast when a knock on the door heralds one of Yuan Song’s child-messengers.

“Doctor says you’re to come to the Pavilion immediately, Young Master.”

“Why?  What’s happened?”

“Dunno,” says the child, looking at the food on the table.  “But it’s urgent.”

“I’ll take you,” says Duan Bai.  “What about Young Master Yao?  He shouldn’t stay here alone.”

“Drop me off at the Lei house,” says Yao Lin.

We’re on the way in five minutes, telling Ah-Bo to bar the door behind us.  The mood on the street’s sullen, resentful, but we encounter no problems.  My puzzlement at being summoned turns to foreboding at the sight of Qian Hu sitting in Yuan Song’s apartment with his face in his hands.  

“It’s the boy,” Yuan Song says quietly.  “Come.”

In the room Xinyi and Qian Hu were sharing, I find Liang Zhou with a grim expression.  Xinyi’s face is flushed, he’s semi-conscious, muttering incomprehensible words. 

“What happened?” I ask in horror.

Liang Zhou beckons me to the bedside and lifts a mass of herbal-smelling cloth covering one of Xinyi’s legs.  There’s an angry wound just above the ankle and the lower part of the leg’s swollen and red.

“A rat-bite,” says Liang Zhou, replacing the covering.  “It’s become poisoned.  I’ve drained as much of the poison as I can.  We’ll have to rely on poultices to draw out the rest.  You remember that man in Qiu City?”

I nod, remembering a soldier who injured himself by accident and told no-one.  We only just saved him.

“It’s the same routine.  Change the poultice at regular intervals and give him medicine to bring down the fever.  I have other patients to see to, but I trust you absolutely to do what’s necessary.  I’ll send you more ingredients for the poultice and the fever medicine and I’ll come back later today.  I’m sorry to have to call on you like this but your skill’s needed here.”

We’re both thinking what he hasn’t said:  if the swelling doesn’t come down, the only way forward will be amputation, with all the danger that implies.  Liang Zhou packs up his instruments, rapidly giving me all the information I need.  Then he touches my shoulder, stands for a moment looking down at Xinyi’s feverish face, and goes out.  I hear low voices outside.  A moment later, Yuan Song comes in.  “I’ll give you any help you need.  You can’t do it all on your own.  Duan Bai will help too.  Just tell us what to do.”

I outline the treatment needed, which is simple, but requires round-the-clock attention.  We clear the room of unnecessary furniture and bring in a large table where we put the herbs that Liang Zhou has left, together with various bowls, cups and bottles.  A stove is brought in to boil the water necessary for the poultices and medicine.  A large pot of cold water will provide damp cloths to keep Xinyi’s fever down.

“He’s so restless,” Yuan Song says, as Xinyi clutches at the quilt and mutters incoherently.

I look round.  “Where’s his cushion?”

“Cushion?”

“Over there.  His mother’s cushion.”

Yuan Song goes to fetch it from the corner where it’s been tossed and brings it to me, stroking the faded embroidery pensively.  “His mother embroidered this?”

“So he told me.  It’s all she left him.”

“The embroidery’s remarkably fine for a farmer’s wife.”

I put the cushion in Xinyi’s arms and he immediately pulls it to his face and quietens down.

“He doesn’t look like a peasant child,” Yuan Song observes.  “Some Young Master’s mistake perhaps?”

“Wherever he comes from, I’m not going to let him die,” I say, resolve hardening in my mind.

It’s a very long day.  We take it in turns to tend Xinyi, tirelessly replacing the poultice and bathing the hot face and hands as best we can.  The fever’s relentless, but the boy’s heartbeat seems strong and regular.  More herbs are delivered and in late afternoon, Liang Zhou returns, escorted by Mo Jiang.  We wait, holding our breath, as he examines the leg.

“There’s no change.”  He looks up at our distressed faces and adds, “That’s good news.  The swelling hasn’t advanced.  You’re doing well.  Keep it up.  Take it in turns to sleep or you’ll drop from exhaustion.  I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”

He and Mo Jiang go off just before curfew.  Time seems to slow down at night.  We work out a shift system, our ranks swelled by Qian Hu, who has pulled himself out of his despair and offered to help.  We work in pairs:  Yuan Song and Duan Bai in one team, Qian Hu and I in the other.  Qian Hu and I take the first shift.  Just after midnight, I snatch a few hours’ unwilling sleep and return to the bedside as dawn starts to break in the sky. 

“No change,” says Yuan Song, stifling a yawn.  “He’s still very restless.”

Qian Hu joins me, looking as if he hasn’t slept at all.  He kneels by the bed, takes Xinyi’s hand and holds it to his cheek.  “I couldn’t bear it if he died.  Six months ago I didn’t even know him and now he’s the most important thing in my life.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

I pat his shoulder, wordless. 

The hours crawl by.  The tasks have become familiar now:   replace the poultice, bathe Xinyi's hot face and hands, give him water and feed him the medicine.  Qian Hu and I don’t speak much.  It leaves plenty of time for worry.  I can’t get the thought of assassination out of my mind.   If Third Brother gets himself killed, I’m next in line.  I’d be the only Imperial Prince left, despite my dubious parentage.  What would happen if they call on me to depose Yan Rong?  What would I do? 

I shake my head.  It’s not going to happen.  I’d refuse.  I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in the Palace signing decrees and listening to councillors boring on about problems in the provinces.  I’d be forced to get married and have children.  No, that’s not how it’s going to be.  I want to live with Shan.  I want us to travel and enjoy life together.  I want to be a successful trader and earn enough money to protect all the people I care about.

And yet, being Emperor would put a fortune into my hands.  I'd have the power to ensure that what happened to Xinyi, what happened to Yuan Song, wouldn't happen to anybody else.  It would mean being able to stop stupid wars, or at least to make sure that the army’s properly supplied if war’s unavoidable.

I shake my head again and Qian Hu looks at me with heavy eyes.  "What?"

"Nothing.  It's just that sometimes I wish I could stop thinking."

Yuan Song and Duan Bai come and relieve us at noon.  I try to get some sleep, but nagging worry prevents me.  Mid-afternoon, I give up and haul myself out of bed.  In Xinyi’s room, Yuan Song turns as I enter.  “He’s no worse.  And we think the redness has receded a little.”

The change is minimal, but I think they’re right.  The wound looks less angry and the swelling’s gone down a fraction. When he arrives, Liang Zhou nods in confirmation.  “Yes, the swelling’s definitely gone down since yesterday and it’s less red here, see.  He’s not out of the woods yet, but this is encouraging.  Try and get him to drink some broth if you can.  We must keep his strength up.”

“Kid’s tougher than he looks,” Duan Bai remarks.

“He must be, to have survived this far.” Yuan Song’s face is sombre. 

Duan Bai yawns, showing a magnificent set of teeth, and starts us all off yawning too.

“Get some sleep,” I say, “I’ll take over.”

As they go out, I see Duan Bai’s arm slide round Yuan Song’s waist.

“Are those two….?” asks Liang Zhou, staring.

“I think so.  I hope so.  Can you get home all right?”

“Mo Jiang’s waiting in the tavern across the road.”

“Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine, but the mood in the city isn’t good.  Some foodstuffs are getting scarce and people are grumbling about grain prices.  The last thing we need’s a food riot.”

“It’s not like there’s a famine this year, either.  Xu Yating’s taking a terrible gamble shutting the city down like this.  If people riot and the Imperial Guards start killing them, there’ll be chaos.”

“Especially with the army just outside the walls.  The people will be caught between the hammer and the anvil.  It’s not a good outlook.”

“Take care going home,” I say, suddenly fearful.  With all this uncertainty, my nerve’s going. 

Liang Zhou smiles and pats my shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  Just concentrate on the job.  I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Qian Hu and I resume our watch and indeed, our patient seems to be calmer and less feverish.  At midnight, we’re relieved by Yuan Song and Duan Bai.  Yuan Song’s holding a letter.

“News from the south?” I ask eagerly.

“Yes.  You’d better read it.”

I can’t believe my eyes.  “Troops gathering in Xu Yating’s home country?  What’s she thinking?”

“If she sends the army south, she might use their absence as an excuse to invite her brother’s troops to defend the capital.”

“And take control while our men are fighting the three lords?”

“Two lords, now,” Yuan Song says.  “Read the rest of the letter.”

I do so, quickly.  “Lord Zu suggested invading the Empire!  Is he mad?”

“A little over-ambitious,” says Yuan Song.  Duan Bai grins.

“Have you let General Tao know?  If this doesn’t get them moving, what will?’

“Yes, I’ve sent him the information.  We’ll see what the reaction is.  There’s food waiting in your apartment.  Go and eat and then rest.”

I eat, but my mind’s not on food at all.  These developments are significant.  I was with the army long enough to know that its loyalty to the Empire is very strong, whatever complaints they may voice about the current Emperor and his mother.  Rebellion’s a huge step.  If the rebellious faction’s in a minority, it risks being put down violently by the loyal majority.  General Tao has to be absolutely sure that most of the men would go along with him or the whole exercise would be pointless and the army would come out of it weakened and vulnerable.  But the idea of foreign troops in the city – surely that would unite them? 

I’m too tired to think this through.  I toss and turn in bed, still unable to sleep.  But next day when Liang Zhou comes back, there’s good news.  He turns to me with a smile.  “Look.”

The swelling has definitely gone down and the redness has receded.  The feverish flush has gone from Xinyi’s cheeks.  Yuan Song and Duan Bai are smiling too.

“Well done, everyone,” says Liang Zhou, “Keep it up and we’ll pull him through.”

Just after nightfall, Qian Hu and I are both dozing when a murmur wakens us.  Xinyi’s eyes are open. 

“Baby!” exclaims Qian Hu.

Xinyi’s voice is very faint.  “What – what happened?”

“You suddenly got sick, but you’re going to be all right.”

“Leg hurts….”

“You were bitten by a rat and it turned nasty, but it’s getting better.”

“Hungry….” the faint voice says. 

Qian Hu and I look at one another and grin.  “I’ll get you something,” Qian Hu says and dashes off.

I bathe Xinyi’s hands and face, help him sit up and generally make him comfortable.

“You looked after me…” he whispers.

“We all did, Yuan Song, Duan Bai, Qian Hu and me.  We’ve been taking turns.”

“I could hear your voices…  it was comforting….”

Qian Hu comes back with a bowl of broth.  Xinyi drinks a little and then goes quietly back to sleep.  Qian Hu and I look at one another and spontaneously hug, as Duan Bai comes in rubbing his eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Xinyi just woke up.  He wanted something to eat.”

“Sounds like good news.  You two get some sleep now.  You both look knackered.”

For the first time in several days, I manage to get some solid hours’ sleep.  When I wake up, the first thing I do is go over to Xinyi’s room, fearful that the improvement was only temporary and that there might have been a relapse, as sometimes happens.  But no, Yuan Song reports that Xinyi’s been awake again and has had a little more to eat.  The leg looks better too, though he’s going to have a fearful scar on his ankle. 

Liang Zhou’s a little later than usual.  There’s serious unrest on the streets.  Somehow the news has got around that foreign troops might be marching on the capital.  I look at Yuan Song and he shakes his head.  “Nothing to do with me.  It’s possible General Tao’s been doing some rumour-mongering of his own.”

“It could become ugly,” says Liang Zhou, “If Xu Yating sends the Imperial Guard to suppress the unrest.  It’s a bad time for the Council to be suspended.”

Xinyi has woken up and Liang Zhou’s able to do a proper examination.  His face doesn’t give much away but I, who know him well, see he’s pleased.

“Excellent,” he says, “The important thing now is to recover your strength, young man.  We’ll keep on with the poultices for the time being, but I’ll change the prescription slightly.  And you can have porridge as well as the soup.  No solids for the time being.”

“Yes sir,” Xinyi whispers meekly.  “Thank you.”

“It’s thanks enough to see you’re better,” says Liang Zhou, smiling.  “I’ll be back tomorrow.  I trust everyone to take care of you in the meanwhile.”

To everyone's relief, the improvement continues, though it’s another week before the swelling and redness disappear completely from Xinyi’s leg and the wound starts to heal.  During that time, the Dowager Empress is forced to issue a statement denying that troops from her homeland are on their way to the capital.  In the meanwhile, food prices reach astronomical heights.  Duan Bai, who comes and goes like a tomcat, curfew or no curfew, brings us the latest news.

“Seems like the grain merchants’ monopoly’s been broken.  Two of the merchants are offering reduced prices for their grain and have forced the others to do the same.  Two women, would you believe?”

“I bet I can put a name to them,” I say, grinning, “Lei and Zhu?”

“Got it in one.  Clairvoyant, are we?”

“I know the ladies.”

Wu Shun brings us the news that some of the Council members are meeting in secret to try to find a way to counter the Dowager Empress.  His father, the Minister of Justice, is leading the effort together with the Prime Minister.

“Dangerous,” says Yuan Song, frowning.  “If somebody betrays them, they’re finished.”

“There’s a small group that would be prepared to support the Third Prince,” Wu Shun says, “But only if the army were to back him.  But we have no way to get in touch with the generals.  Have you heard anything?”

“General Tao has the support of about half the officers.  But the other half’s dithering.  Like a girl who can’t make her mind up about getting married.”

“So everybody’s waiting for everybody else to make a move,” I say.  “What will it take to convince people?”

“An invasion of dragons?” suggests Duan Bai.

The leaden days go by, inching towards spring.  The Dowager Empress closes down brothels, restaurants and any other places where people meet to discuss politics.  The Council members are confined to their residences, allegedly for their own protection.  At a standstill, the city seethes with discontent.  The food situation becomes perilous.  Camped outside the city, the army has access to supplies from the provinces, but hunger threatens the poor in the city so Xu Yating is forced to allow food imports to resume. 

Then what we’re most dreading happens: a rumour starts to circulate that the Third Prince has fallen victim to an assassin’s knife.  There’s no way of knowing whether it’s true or not, but our hearts sink.  Wu Shun hurries to the Pavilion to tell us that the Council members are in disarray.  From the army there’s silence.  We all look at one another but there’s nothing to say.  We can only wait for news, fighting off despair as best we can.

Yao Lin, Duan Bai and I return to the Cloud House, where Ah-Bo’s been holding the fort with the help of an old army friend, a disreputable-looking veteran with a shaven head, tattoos on both arms, and teeth like a row of derelict houses.  Then at last news comes from the south.  The assassination has failed.  Third Brother’s slightly injured and the assassin has committed suicide.  Relief makes my legs weak.  Everyone’s feeling the strain, though messages from my friends reassure me that they’re well, for the time being at least.  But I feel so very tired.

At last, the weather starts to improve.  Leaf-buds appear on the roses that Xinyi and Qian Hu have planted in my garden.  On the surface, it seems as if nothing will ever change.  We’ve done all we can to undermine the Palace, but has it been enough?  With the spring, somebody’s got to make a move, but who will it be?

The answer comes on a cold clear spring day.  Duan Bai comes in one morning with a message from Yuan Song.

The Dowager Empress has ordered the army to prepare for war.