The Chinese Magus - Softcover

Richard Yeo

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1785352393 ISBN 13: 9781785352393

Publisher: Top Hat Books, 2016

Synopsis

Xiang Li is a cultured, rational Chinese Mandarin, Governor of Xinjiang Province. He sees a sign in the skies and falls under a compulsion to travel to the west in the depth of winter. Nothing is clear but that he must hurry. His journey takes him through the snow-choked passes of the Tian Shan mountains and the searing heat of the Syrian Desert, through ambush by evil tribesmen and the deadly court of King Herod, while ahead of him rises a light in the night sky...

About this title

About the Author

Richard lives on the east coast of southern Scotland. A naval officer for most of his career, he became a successful thatcher on retirement. History and esoteric study are two of his life's themes and he is a choral singer.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Chinese Magus

By Richard Yeo

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2015 Richard Yeo
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78535-239-3

CHAPTER 1

Korla

"Every tenth adult male. All troublemakers to be included. One of every twenty male children under ten. The population to watch. Huts of the executed to be burned."

"Xiang Gong."

The eunuch bowed his head, making notes.

"Did you hear that?"

Chief Eunuch Ping looked up. The Governor was gazing out of the window.

"Hear what, Gong?"

Xiang Li turned.

"I thought I heard a child crying."

He shook his head.

"No matter. Who will you send?"

The eunuch consulted a list.

"Major Huan would seem most suited, Gong," he replied.

Xiang Li considered.

"Make it so, but warn him not to exceed his instructions. There will be no repetition of Sugun. Leave him in no doubt that his head is at risk. Tax collectors to accompany the troops. Arrange the details. Next."

His gaze strayed to the window. Ping recognised the signs. His stylus slid to the bottom of the list.

"Xiang Gong, the Xiongnu embassy awaits in the audience chamber."

Xiang Li closed his eyes, tapping his chin with one long fingernail.

"Is the porcelain ready?"

"Yes, Gong. The merchants have arranged the viewing in the Saffron Room."

"The Xiongnu grow presumptuous. They need to understand their place. Have the merchants remove as much porcelain as they can safely hold and carry it through the audience chamber, then back to the Saffron Room, making sure that the embassy see them. Then have it whispered to the Xiongnu – an indiscreet servant would be ideal – that I am viewing porcelain. Later, I will receive them."

Ping bowed, collected his bamboo slips and backed silently out of the room.

Xiang Li turned back to the window.

There were hints of autumn in the air, the first cold breaths from the mountains, and yet here, in the Tarim Basin, summer lingered. Peasants laboured in distant orchards: apricots, Li rather thought. He could see three of the windmills, developed to his design, which raised water from the river for irrigation, and he allowed himself a brief glow of satisfaction.

Much done but so much more to do. Out here on the frontier he must be governor, general, diplomat, engineer ... so much to do. If there were unlimited time what might he not achieve.

He sighed. But time was limited.

No, not today. He would not allow his thoughts to stray down that path. He frowned, briefly then relaxed as he thought of the morrow.

In the morning he would set out with his retinue to the palace beside Bagrash Kol, the last visit to the summer palace before autumn slipped into winter. And although the cadre of eunuchs would follow and harry him with affairs of state, there would be time for his scrolls and bamboo slips; time for study and thought.

He raised his eyes to the distant mountains, stark against the sky. A ghost of yearning brushed his mind, not yearning for anything in particular, more an intimation of vast, unfulfilled need.

As the world counted these things, he was at the height of his power, Governor of Xingiang, one of the elite scholar- administrators of the Empire, yet at what a cost. He who wielded life and death in the name of the Emperor knew himself to be a façade; a façade which, if dropped, would shatter like porcelain. That was the cost of power.

The child running the banks of the Tuajiang River, laughing for joy, where was he? The young boy riding his father's wagons, feeding the oxen, rolling down a grassy bank ... all had been subordinated to this. And of course it was right and proper. Legalism and Confucianism combined in a rigid yet subtle framework without which anarchy would rule. What greater purpose could there be in this life than to use one's intellect to maintain the rule of law in this vast land?

The gates of the palace creaked open. An ox cart lumbered into the courtyard. The leather covers were loosed. Xiang Li leant his elbows on the window ledge. Ah yes. Spears from the new supplier. It was to be hoped that the ash shafts would be straight and without blemish, unlike those provided by Kao Jianyu. The sutler now hung in an iron cage outside the East Gate. Li made a mental note to ask Eunuch Ping whether he yet lived. Two weeks, he seemed to remember, was the sentence. Well, Kao had had enough fat on him to start with, so perhaps he had survived.

Xiang Li was not an unduly cruel man yet neither was he compassionate. His function was to administer the laws and the instruments of government, neither more nor less. Moral considerations were not part of his remit. The Empire ploughed onwards across all its dusty miles. And yet, and yet ...

"Husband."

Xiang Li turned. Mei Su wore her blue silk gown today. A blush touched her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled. Li found himself smiling. Su pleased him.

"Wife," he said, offering his arm.

A last brief dimpling from Su then, masked by polite indifference, Lord and Lady paced from the room.

CHAPTER 2

To the Summer Palace

Governor Xiang Li held a pouch of aromatic herbs to his nose. When necessary, when, for instance, he found himself directing men and animals in civil engineering works, he would suffer the stench of faeces and sweat, but he would much rather not. In an ideal world he would have journeyed alone on a fleet horse to the summer palace on the Bagrash Kol, but this was not, alas, an ideal world.

As the representative of the Son of Heaven, Ruler of the World, he recognised the need for pomp. Hence this heavy, gilded wagon with its superstructure of rare woods and silk draperies, its unsprung weight lurching over the ruts. Hence also the six oxen plodding, defecating and stalling as they dragged the dead-weight eastwards, stirring up clouds of dust to add to that of the mounted escort, the wagons of the eunuchs and the baggage train.

Xiang Li glanced behind him to the cushioned interior where Mei Su lay amongst her handmaidens, prostrate with travel nausea. Xiang Li could only sympathize. He had never seen the ocean, let alone travelled upon it, yet he imagined that the combination of sickness and depression currently poisoning his being bore similarities with the marine illness about which he had read. The wagon lurched. The odours of animal and man hung around the procession and he held himself erect and prayed for the end of the journey.

His discomfort was compounded by the fact that this was a diversion from the main route and, unlike the trunk road, the surface was ungraded. The diversion had been necessitated by repairs to a bridge, weakened by floods. This was wearisome since the train of animals and wagons would now have to cross the river at a ford with all the concomitant delays.

To his right a group of peasants, harvesting maize, hurried to prostrate themselves as a cavalryman wielding a whip, cantered, shouting, towards them. Peasants prostrated themselves before the Emperor's representative because if they did not, then a small fissure would form in the edifice within which their lives were held.

He thought of the village of Zong-gu, even now the subject of Major Huan's attentions. It was regrettable. They had conspired to keep a quantity of livestock hidden in a remote canyon, safe, they had thought, from the eyes of the provincial tax assessor. It had been foolish and naïve of them. Everyone knew about the government's system of spies. Had they really thought that word would not get out? Now they would be decimated. Li deplored the necessity. Blood, in any quantity, appalled him yet only thus could the system of government be assured in this harsh land.

Taxes paid for the army without which the Xiongnu would pour across the border followed, in turn, by yet more barbaric peoples. Peace, stability and the commerce which provided gold for the Imperial coffers were what he sought and if that involved the early release from a miserable existence of a handful of peasants, then so be it. The position of Governor represented the continuing victory of order over chaos. It was a position to which Xiang Li had been born, not through privilege but through aptitude and intelligence.

At the age of thirteen he had been among sixteen boys from his province, selected to go forward for preliminary examinations. His mother had wept. His father, a respected merchant of Sichuan, had hidden his pride that his son might find a place among the scholar-administrators of the Empire. Xiang Li had done well, writing poetry of captivating beauty, as he had been instructed by his tutor, speaking with authority to the board of three ancients about the intricacies of Confucian philosophy and ancestor worship. He had earned the coral hat pin before the age of fifteen. Today, aged thirty-three, his rounded hat carried the ruby pin of a provincial governor.

Ahead, now, the train began fording the small but rapidly-flowing river. Mounted guards herded groups of peasants into position on drag ropes to assist the first wagon down into the water and up the steep slope at the other side. Much to his relief, Xiang Li's wagon ground to a stop. He beckoned to the captain of his bodyguard.

"I shall dismount," he said.

"At your orders, Xiang Gong," replied the officer, bowing.

He turned and shouted at the close escort. Four troopers dismounted and approached the governor as he climbed down from the wagon.

Xiang Li closed his eyes, relishing the stability of the earth and the release from nausea. Then he set off for the ford, the four troopers, tall in their bamboo armour and crested helmets, forming around him. Sunlight filtered between the trees which bordered the road. Xiang Li was minded to look at the possibility of building a bridge here to circumvent this tiresome ford. Financially, it would probably not be viable but he put this thought to one side, intent on enjoying the mental exercise of overcoming a natural obstacle.

The slope to the ford was steep and the wagon heavy. Xiang Li noted the straining of the forty or so peasants on the two drag ropes, trying by main strength to manage the dead-weight. Why had someone not thought to put the ropes around the tree trunks as a simple purchase? Xiang Li despaired at the lack of intelligence – or was it imagination – exhibited by others.

As he drew nearer and was able to look down the slope to the water he saw that a smaller group of peasants was trying to control the progress of the wagon by jamming poles under one wheel and then the other. The six oxen stood motionless, water swirling around their legs. The wagon master, balancing on the driving seat, screamed at the peasants, confusing them. Xiang Li strode forward, opening his mouth to take control when the wagon slipped forwards, jerking the drag rope teams off their feet.

Simultaneously a scream arose from near the water's edge. Xiang Li saw that the off-side wheel had pinned one of the peasants. Holding his robes clear of the mud, he made his way down the slope.

"You," he said to the wagon master without raising his voice, "get the weight of the wagon on the drag ropes now!" The wagon master turned and bellowed up the slope.

The peasant under the wheel was thrashing and screaming. Blood stained the water. The other peasants stood around, gazing helplessly. Xiang Li looked down at the injured man, judging the situation.

"You: silence," he said.

The man tried to obey

Xiang Li took in the deformation of the lower trunk, the whiteness of the pelvic bones, the diminishing pump of blood. Hopeless.

He clicked his fingers at one of his escort and pointed downwards at the casualty then turned back up the slope. Abruptly the screams stopped.

To one of the mounted overseers he said, "Block the wheels." The man began shouting. Why, why must everyone shout?

As Xiang Li passed the wagon master, without raising his eyes he pointed and said, "Go."

The man went.

Xiang Li approached the left-hand drag rope. He judged the angle to the nearest tree. Without raising his voice he addressed the twenty peasants who strained against the weight.

"When I say, but not before, you will all move slowly sideways, following the direction of my arm."

They looked back with dull eyes.

He raised his arm, paralleling the line of the rope.

"Move."

Slowly he moved his arm away from the team towards the tree. Less than half of the peasants moved. One of the mounted guards, quicker than his fellows, nudged his mare towards the peasants, uncoiling his whip.

"No." Xiang Li's glance was enough. The guard backed off.

Now a few more of the team were moving.

"Move sideways. Follow my arm."

The whole team was now plodding raggedly sideways.

"Stop. Stay there." Li lowered his arm.

"You." He pointed at one of his escort. "Take the end of the rope round the trunk of that tree and bring it back to me. The guard saluted and set off, his bamboo armour creaking.

Fifteen minutes later, both drag ropes were bent round tree trunks, the drag teams repositioned to take advantage of the friction provided and the wagon was being lowered steadily into the stream. Unnoticed, the body of the fallen peasant floated free and, spinning gently, disappeared downstream.

CHAPTER 3

Mei Su and Te Zhu

It was the day after their arrival. Her husband was currently immersed in the never-ending affairs of the province so Mei Su was free to indulge herself. She knew how jealous Xiang Li was of his time here at the Summer Palace and that, as soon as he could shake free from the Cadre of Eunuchs, he would shut himself away in his turret room where only his body servant was allowed. She might not see him for two days or more and, whilst she loved her husband, she too valued time to herself.

She made her way down passages and staircases towards the south side of the palace. Here she passed through quiet cloisters and out into the peace of an extensive walled garden. Closing her eyes, she raised her face towards the autumn sunlight, reflected and enhanced by the honey-coloured walls. A gentle breeze, scented with late blossom, lifted a wing of her hair. Birdsong, complex and sweet, drifted down from the fruit trees near the further wall. Bliss, she thought.

Opening her eyes she looked around. Three gardeners were in sight but not the one whom she sought.

"Mistress?"

Mei Su turned. Te Zhu had approached, as ever, silent and unseen. Mei Su wondered again how she did it. The relationship between Mistress and servant was complex. Indeed Mei Su was unclear about the status of Te Zhu. Servant? Companion? Teacher? Yes, Teacher was probably the nearest and yet Te Zhu was a humble woman who spent her life in this garden where the other gardeners treated her with a kind of reverence, based upon her ability to coax life from the meanest of cuttings. Indeed, it was not unknown for them to bow to Te Zhu, just as Te Zhu was now bowing to her.

"Welcome, Mistress."

The little woman held her hands palm together at her breast and smiled, her slightly crooked teeth only adding to the overall effect of warmth. Mei Su placed her hands together and smiled back. With slight difficulty she managed to refrain from bowing. There was a time and a place for that but not here in the open garden.

"How good to see you, Te Zhu. How are you and how is your garden?"

"As to myself, the damp pain in my fingers causes me increasing discomfort but not as long as the sun shines. As to the garden, come, look."

Te Zhu turned, sweeping her arm across the panorama of trees, shrubs and plants.

"Let me show you the apricots, Mistress. I think you will be pleased."

The two followed a stone path to a point against the wall of the palace where six espaliered apricot plants spread their branches. Mei Su had planted them herself under Te Zhu's tutelage, two seasons ago, and had since learnt the intricacies of pruning the branches and attaching them to the slender bamboo trellises. Now the plants stood nearly three feet tall and here and there golden fruit peeped from beneath the leaves.

Te Zhu leaned forward, plucked one of the fruit and offered it to Mei Su. She took it and bit into it, closing her eyes, savouring the sun-warmed flesh.

"Beautiful," she murmured.

They turned and wandered further along the path, Te Zhu pointing out new plants and features. Gardeners bowed deeply but so engrossed were the two women in their talk that they might as well have been alone. Time stood still.

Eventually they sat on the coping of a small pool where water lilies floated in the gentle tumble of a small fountain. Mei Su trailed her hand in the water, enjoying the coolness and the stroking of plant tendrils. There was silence yet it was companionable. Competent and self-contained, Te Zhu sat in stillness. Mei Su often thought that this was the Teacher's chief characteristic. Even when she was in motion, she seemed surrounded by stillness. It was a comfortable stillness and it encouraged sharing should one be so moved.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Chinese Magus by Richard Yeo. Copyright © 2015 Richard Yeo. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
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Edition details

• Publisher: Top Hat Books
• Publication date: 2016
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1785352393
• ISBN 13: 9781785352393
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 320