The Silk Tree Read online

  ‘I’m … I’m go with them.’

  ‘What? You bloody fool, don’t you know – forget it, that’s just crazy talk.’

  ‘I go. They need one who know camels, especially little Meng Hsiao. I’ll be the one.’

  ‘I’m warning you, Arif, if you go—’

  The cameleer stood his ground.

  ‘Right. You’re off wages as of this moment. Get your kit and throw it in with theirs. You can claim your back wages in Khotan. You’re out of this caravan.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Touched by the moonlight the spectral shapes of ridges and dead vegetation held a feral menace. The crunch of their footsteps over the gravel desert seemed overloud to imaginations keyed up by their abrupt fleeing. No one spoke.

  They had left in the dead of night, out into the heart of the deadly Taklamakan. The tiny flicker of the dying campfire had disappeared quickly behind them and there had been no wakening alarm. They had only to put in sufficient distance by morning to be out of sight.

  There were three camels. Arif had claimed his own venture investment, a sprightly youngster he called Ordut. All of the animals were heavily laden – besides food and water for themselves and the camels, they carried extra water skins to be filled at the river, warm gear for the bitter night cold, flatbread and dried fruit for when there was nothing to make a fire and two tents.

  If there was something they’d overlooked it could spell a death sentence for them all. There was no going back now …

  A night breeze started up, brushing their cheeks with a numbing chill, driving the relentless, shuddering cold into their vitals. With it came myriad sounds – a soughing murmur, taps and clicks out in the gloom.

  They pressed on. The hours passed and then the sky lost its velvety blackness, an almost imperceptible lightening that softened the harsh shadows and eased the menace of the hulking shapes.

  Then the monochrome gave way to colours and with just a few fading stars the last of the night fled. The edge of the sun lifted above the far horizon in a searing blast of light.

  In minutes it had risen clear. The landscape was laid bare in all its appalling beauty – a grey plain of stone fragments and sand ripples, occasional red outcrops of weathered rocks and behind them, the far away snow-capped peaks of the Tien Shan range.

  Nicander knew that somewhere in that direction the caravan would be stirring, Su would be making a show of discovering them missing but adamantly refusing to start a search. It happened: a merchant would take the risk of leaving the caravan in the hope of arriving before the others and cornering the market. Sometimes it worked, but often they would be taken and murdered by brigands or claimed by the desert. No doubt Korkut and the others would be shaking their heads in disbelief that their friends had left without a farewell. However this played out, they would never see the little band again.

  They trudged on, enduring. Arif broke the silence and timidly suggested they take a rest at a sandy ridge.

  Meng Hsiang was made to kneel then hobbled with a rope around his folded front legs; the two younger animals would not stray far from him.

  A makeshift awning was fashioned from one of the tents and the little group collapsed to the ground under it. They had gone all night and put in a full day previously and soon sleep brought surcease for aching bodies.

  Marius shook his friend with a rough smile. ‘Wake up! Wake up, you slack bastard!’

  Nicander came to, trying to orient where he was. By degrees it penetrated: the wasteland around them, the Tien Shan still in view, and nearer, a crackling fire tended by Arif.

  ‘We thought you were going to sleep all day!’ Ying Mei teased. She was sitting with her hands clasped around her knees.

  ‘Oh, as we had nothing else to do …’

  ‘You’ll never make a legionary, Nico. Every hour we spend on our arse is one less on the march!’

  ‘So. Are we thinking of eating anything?’

  ‘Arif has a right fine-smelling mutton hotpot ready for us – be a shame if you were asleep while we finished it off.’

  ‘Just like to know we’re on course,’ Marius said, as he wiped his plate clean. ‘Hey, Arif – tell me we’re off in the right direction?’

  ‘Why, make no difference, Ma sheng, we be up with the Tarim river which go across our path, like this.’ He gestured from west to east. They were going south.

  ‘So everything square, then.’

  ‘There is something.’ Tai Yi’s tone was earnest.

  ‘For myself and the Lady Kuo, we need to know there’s someone in charge. A caravan master, even if we’re just a little one. Who will this be, who’ll make the decisions?’

  When there was no reply she said firmly, ‘I think it should be Arif. He—’

  ‘No, no! I can’t!’ The cameleer scrambled to his feet in consternation. ‘It cannot be me!’

  ‘Why not?’ Tai Yi snapped. ‘You’re the only one who knows what he’s doing in this … this journey.’

  ‘I … I too y-young.’

  Ying Mei came in, ‘Perhaps this does need an older man, one who can carry us through with wisdom and strength when things get bad.’

  She looked across encouragingly at Nicander, whose pulse began to race. To be the hero who pulls them through against all the odds! Who would be admired and respected ever afterwards! In fact, who Ying Mei would owe her life to … But this was a matter of sheer survival – requiring swift and merciless decisions and hard leadership.

  He pointed to Marius. ‘You’ve marched with the legions in the Syrian desert, been up against the Persians, you know what it’s like. You should be our leader in this.’

  Marius stared out over the dead, parched landscape for a long moment.

  When he looked back his face was grim and uncompromising. ‘If I do this it’ll be under one condition only.’

  ‘What’s that, Marius?’

  ‘I’m in charge. And I mean that – I give orders and you do as I say, even if you think ’em wrong. And I make the decisions! Could be there’s going to be some bloody hard ones and I don’t need arguments. You want me, this is my price.’

  Nicander was well aware that in an army you sent men in to die; what if there was a situation here of only enough water to keep four of them alive? Who would he condemn to save the others? He recognised it was a choice he could never make but he knew Marius would stand by his decisions whatever it took, seeing them through even with physical violence.

  ‘If that’s what you want, Marius. How about the rest of us?’

  Tai Yi tried to object but Ying Mei quietened her and it was agreed.

  ‘So. What is your first order, Caravan Master Marius?’ Nicander asked.

  ‘Everyone on their feet!’ he rapped.

  ‘What …?’

  ‘We’re moving out!’

  They reached the Tarim river late the next morning – and the miracle of unlimited sparkling water in a lethal desert. Broad and shallow, the stream lazily progressed to the east. They took their fill before resting in the shade of a group of wild poplar as the camels drank deeply and grazed on the greenery that fringed the river.

  Nicander glanced at Ying Mei, who was looking out over the formidable landscape with a distracted expression.

  What was going through her mind? She was a noble lady who had left a home at the highest levels of the imperial court and was now cast down to this existence, a life-threatening plight. He thought of what he’d learnt from Dao Pa. Could it be that she was more advanced on the path to Tao?

  This was a woman of talents and beauty both. That it could never end in … a uniting, there was no reason he should not take pleasure in her close company while he could. He let his gaze linger.

  All too soon, however, it was time to plan the next move. Marius turned to Arif. ‘So – if we’re looking for your river to Khotan from the south, all we need to do is follow this one until we reach it?’

  ‘I not done it, Ma sheng, never this way, but this what I heard.’
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  ‘Then that’s what we’ll do.’

  It was pleasant going along the flat, hard sand next to the agreeable sight of so much water and they were almost sorry when they spotted the much smaller Ho T’ien, sliding in to lose itself in the larger river.

  Now was the point of commitment.

  If they turned to the right they could rejoin the world of man. If they chose the other way, each day would take them further still into the wilderness, deep into the wastes of the Taklamakan that would see them beyond any kind of help.

  ‘Last water for the camels – and I want to see the water skins and personal gourds filled right up. Then no one takes a drop unless I say!’ Marius ordered.

  He surveyed them grimly. ‘Arif, you take Meng Hsiang. Nico, I want you to be rearguard, and with a fucking serious duty. If you see anyone – anyone at all – who falls out of the line o’ march, you shout! Loud! They get lost, there’s nothing on this earth that’s going to save ’em, and I’m not going to try.’

  They moved off. In the lead was Marius, stepping out with stubborn purpose. Then it was Meng Hsiang plodding forward with Arif at his halter and the two younger camels strung out behind, Tai Yi and Ying Mei walking next to them.

  On his own at the end Nicander tried to dismiss the worry of what would happen if he himself took dizzy and fell. No one would notice until …

  At day’s end the comforting sight of the Tien Shan had disappeared. There was nothing to show their direction in the unknown landscape apart from the sprawling glitter of the Ho T’ien, meandering from the south in great curves into the distance.

  Marius declared a halt and briskly detailed duties. While Arif saw to the camels Tai Yi and Ying Mei were to collect the scraggy dried bushes dotted about for firewood and prepare the food. He called Nicander to help him with the tents and then made a muster of their stock of stores and water.

  The days passed and the landscape changed around them. Before, they had travelled over a hard gravel desert – now the dunes and sand ripples were growing, wind-blown crescents that had fine grains whipping from their crests. The only flat area was the bed of the Ho-T’ien as it made its way in vast sweeps through the depressions between the dunes.

  Arif was vague about exactly how far off Khotan was, possibly some hundreds of miles. There was a precious connection with it, however, that they could reach out and touch – the Ho T’ien. It had begun its life as snow in the Kunlun above the town, and had made it right through the desert to the other side, their assurance that they would eventually arrive.

  The dunes grew larger; swelling hundreds of feet from valley to crest they marched away into the desert in silent array yet through it still threaded their lifeline. At places water was visible at the surface of the now drying river bed. At others, the water thinned and braided, forming many small rivulets that joined and split.

  Where the water was plentiful there was lush green, where it was not the bleak grey drabness of the wasteland went unrelieved.

  Ying Mei was the first to notice Meng Hsiao stumble. He gave out a low, almost inaudible moan before raising his head again. She frowned, it was level going and should not have caused him problems.

  Ordut responded with an irritated snarl at the break in pace. Meng Hsiang just phlegmatically paced on.

  It happened again. ‘I think Meng Hsiao has hurt himself,’ she called in concern.

  The caravan stopped and Arif went to see for himself. The animal seemed fractious and resisted his probing hands.

  ‘His stomach. He eaten something bad. He get over it.’

  They got under way again but it was clear that the camel was in some discomfort and in the evening it refused feed. During the night it was heard groaning and in the morning it jibbed at its burden being loaded on again. No allowance could be made, however, for the other two had their own full loads.

  Ying Mei walked beside it, patting the young animal’s muzzle and talking to it but it was clearly still in distress.

  Arif had a worried frown when they made camp. ‘I not like it. He not better.’

  The morning came, a cold grey dawning.

  Ying Mei looked haggard – she had spent the night with the suffering creature.

  ‘Let’s go!’ Marius showed no sign of sympathy.

  ‘Can we not wait for Meng Hsiao to recover? I’m sure he’ll be better in a day or so.’

  ‘No. Get him to his feet, Arif.’

  ‘Ah Wu. Have mercy on the beast, please! He’s tried his best for us and now he needs us to be kind to him.’

  ‘Get him up, Arif.’

  Ying Mei turned away as the switch was used mercilessly. The camel screeched and writhed but did not get up.

  Meng Hsiang loped up and nuzzled him in perplexity and had to be dragged back.

  ‘He weak, Ma sheng. The load, it hold him down.’

  ‘Take it off him.’ Marius glanced at the other camels. ‘We can’t wait, there’s only rations for another ten days. Unload ’em all, sort out which is the most important and they’ll go with these two, the rest is left behind.’

  ‘And Meng Hsiao?’

  ‘If he can stay with us …’

  Marius stood with folded arms as the pile of rejected stores steadily grew until it was one-third of the whole.

  The other two camels were reloaded and Arif finally managed to drive the sick camel to its feet where it stood, trembling.

  ‘Move,’ Marius ordered.

  They started out again, Meng Hsiao in the rear with Ying Mei.

  But after a mile or so the camel was staggering; its humps drooping, the area between its legs and ribs concave and gaunt.

  ‘Keep up!’ roared Marius.

  ‘He can’t!’ called Ying Mei brokenly. ‘He needs a rest!’

  The caravan halted.

  Meng Hsiao fell to his knees, then to his side. His mouth was foam-streaked and his eyes dull.

  Marius strode back. ‘Arif?’

  ‘He not go any more,’ he said with deep sadness.

  ‘Then we leave him. Cut him free.’

  When nobody moved Marius grated, ‘He can’t keep up, so he takes his chances on his own. Just like any of us – right?’

  Arif slowly untied the rope.

  ‘Move on!’ Marius urged.

  ‘I’m staying with him!’ Ying Mei cried.

  ‘No, we must go on.’

  White-faced, Tai Yi went to her mistress and gently led her away.

  The tiny caravan moved off, Ying Mei’s tear-streaked face looking back at the receding shape.

  Heartrending bleats came faintly over the still air.

  After a short while Marius halted them again. ‘Arif, you know what to do. Do it.’

  The cameleer looked away, reaching for control, then took out his knife and paced back to the sick beast, which quietened when it saw him.

  Ying Mei fell to her knees but held herself to a soundless grief.

  Arif was with the camel for some time, hunched over the still form, working at something.

  Then he returned. In his hands was a bloody haunch of meat.

  Ying Mei retched helplessly.

  Nicander tried to quell his pity; this was the cold logic of desert survival.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The next day the river died. Flat and broad it had been their security with the glittering water path always with them. Now there was just the wadi, wind-blown dust and a spreading desolation. The only water was in their precious gourds and water skins. And if the dry bed disappeared entirely, where was their path?

  They kept on. The dunes were now at a stupendous height – towering to over a thousand feet between valley and crest.

  That night, as soon as the camels were seen to, Marius lined Nicander, Arif and the women up and, one by one, granted a single gulp of water, a ceremony he had performed at strict intervals during the day. ‘No boiling, no cooking in water, nothing.’

  The wind got up. It droned and whistled, finding every hole and slit and filli
ng the tents with a fine dust that settled a gritty coating over everything.

  Nicander lay with his covering over his head, unable to sleep. Had they made the right decision to come to this hellish land, where humans had no right to trespass? The alternative was seven years’ imprisonment. That bastard Taw would make sure of it. But they at least would be safe, not in this demented wilderness.

  The wind increased, shaking and flapping the tent – but then there was something else. Tremors through the ground, a deeper pitch to the wind and at the back of it all … the sound – of a great army on the move.

  ‘Did you hear that, Marius?’ he said breathlessly.

  The noise wavered and strengthened, the concussion of thousands of feet, the rumble of wagons from out of the darkness.

  ‘They’re coming for us!’

  ‘I hear it,’ came Marius’s voice, sounding not as steady as usual.

  Intertwining it was a distant calling, a sad keening, the words not quite understandable.

  Nicander’s mind whirled – for he could make it out now. They were calling to him, pleading with him to go outside and come to them.

  ‘It’s the demons of the Flowing Sands!’ gasped Arif. ‘They after us!’

  Nicander stared into the near impenetrable dimness where only the indistinct shapes of Marius and Arif could be made out.

  Outside the wind blustered and moaned and the calls grew more desperate.

  Then he sensed a presence – close outside. A scrabbling and movement.

  He lay rigid with fear.

  A dim shape passed across the laced-up entrance working at the loop.

  Then into their tent burst first one then another giant demon. Nicander opened his mouth to shriek but one sobbed, ‘We couldn’t sleep, we were frightened.’ A cringing Ying Mei and Tai Yi crouched before them in the crowded tent.

  The next day they set off in a still blustering wind with stinging particles that had them winding cloths around their heads and hands. It relented as the day’s heat began but the river bed was getting indistinct. They followed it around in a long sweeping curve and there ahead was a speck of green. This meant water – they were still on track!