‘Then what?’
‘Sit down,’ Wayland said. ‘I’m going to take a drink of wine and I suggest you do the same.’
Hero sat holding his cup on his knees. Wayland drank half his in one gulp.
‘The sacristan told me Oussu had come to the temple a thousand years ago and showed me evidence to support the claim. Like you, I was sceptical. I remember saying that if it were true, Oussu would have lived around the same time as Jesus.’
‘Several of his disciples carried the word of God abroad in their own lifetimes. St Thomas established churches as far away as India.’
‘And the sacristan told me that within a hundred years of Oussu’s departure, a group of Christian pilgrims came to worship at the site. It was they who left the fish symbol on the walls of the cave. The only reason they did that is because they venerated him.’
‘I’m not sure where this is leading.’
‘Oussu. Think about the name.’
When Hero made the connection, he spilled his wine. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘Is it? That Gospel of Thomas you found in Anatolia. You believed it contained an account of Jesus’s life before he began teaching and working miracles.’
‘I didn’t have a chance to read more than a few lines before the emir’s secretary snatched it away.’
‘I remember you telling me that nothing was known about Jesus’s life between his boyhood and the time he was baptised at the age of about thirty.’
‘That’s true. Most of his life was passed in obscurity.’
‘During that period he could have travelled anywhere. He could have travelled as far as Nepal. Why not? I did, and on my journey to China I had plenty of time to reflect. One thing that struck me was how much Buddhism and Christianity have in common. Show compassion for all livings things. Forgive your enemies. Turn the other cheek.’
‘Most of the great religions teach similar precepts, and they’re honoured more in the breach than the observance.’
‘I knew you’d think I was crazy. The rabbi doesn’t. That’s why he stole the scroll. It contains Jesus’s writings, his thoughts.’ Wayland made for the door. ‘I’m going to get it back.’
Hero caught him. ‘Suppose you’re right. The rabbi won’t return it.’
‘Yes, he will.’
Hero struggled to hold Wayland back. ‘He’ll deny it. You have no evidence. The rabbi is a well-respected citizen. He’ll summon a magistrate. You’ll be arrested. At the very least the authorities will uncover your connection with Vallon.’ Hero eased Wayland away from the door. ‘Have another drink.’ He managed to seat Wayland and put a cup into his hand.
‘I could have established proof if I’d had more time in the temple.’
‘Perhaps one day you’ll return.’
Wayland shivered. ‘I lost three friends on that journey. I lost Zuleyka and I lost my dog. For what? All I wanted was to return to my family and instead I’m further from home than ever, living in a whorehouse with nothing to show for it.’
He knocked back his wine and stood looking at the thanka. His back was turned and Hero couldn’t tell if he was laughing or weeping. Hero had never seen Wayland drunk before, not even tipsy.
‘I possess the only portrait of Jesus in existence, and no one – not even you – believes me.’
XLI
Hero entered Vallon’s quarters fizzing with excitement. ‘See what I’ve got.’
Vallon watched as Hero set a small rectangular iron plate on the table. He brushed the plate with a sticky resin then placed a frame over it.
‘Does this have anything to do with Fire Drug?’ Vallon asked.
‘This,’ said Hero, ‘is far more interesting.’
From a box he took small squares of clay each carved with a Chinese character on one face and fitted them into the frame, wedging them tight with strips of bamboo. When the frame was full, he coated the characters with gummy ink, pressed a sheet of paper over the form and rubbed the surface with a pad. Grinning like a conjuror about to perform a thrilling sleight of hand, he took one corner of the paper, peeled it off and showed Vallon the impression of the inked characters printed on the other side.
‘What does it say?’ Vallon asked.
‘I don’t know. I placed the pieces at random.’
‘What’s it for?’
Hero inked the character again and made a second print. ‘You see, once I’ve positioned the characters I can produce a copy in a fraction of the time it would take to write a page. I could produce a book in less than a day.’
Vallon wasn’t impressed. ‘Judging by how long it took you to put those pieces together, assembling an entire book would be a week’s work. In fact a month might not be long enough. Besides, you were playing with only a few dozen characters and the Chinese language contains thousands.’
‘That’s why they continue to use wood-block printing. It’s faster than the moveable-type system.’
‘You’re beginning to confuse me.’
‘Don’t you see? The technique isn’t restricted to Chinese. The Greek alphabet contains only twenty-four letters. Carve enough of them and you could set a page in a morning, a book in a week. It will revolutionise the way books are produced.’
‘Professional scribes will never adopt the method.’
‘There won’t be any need for scribes with my printing set.’
‘You know, Hero, sometimes your enthusiasm for newfangled gadgets runs ahead of what’s practical.’
‘You’re in a grumpy mood this morning.’
‘Sit down,’ Vallon said. He went to the window and pointed at the cherry trees in full blossom. ‘We’ve been in Kaifeng four months and we’re no nearer persuading the emperor to draw up an alliance. A meaningful alliance was always a fantasy. Byzantium and China lie so far apart they could be on different planets. Duke Phocas was right. The expedition was simply the emperor’s way of ridding himself of a traitor and an embarrassment. All we’ve got are some presents and a message to Alexius that will be a talking point in Constantinople for a day and then forgotten. It’s time to return home.’
Hero’s chest went hollow with dismay. ‘Considering how long it took us to reach China, four months isn’t a lengthy stay.’
‘If we don’t leave soon, we’ll find ourselves travelling through the winter.’
‘Wait until the new year, when we’ll have the whole of spring and summer to make the journey. I’d be happy to stay even longer.’
‘You’re not the only one. My troopers think they’ve made landfall on the Happy Isles, and the longer they remain, the more difficult it will be to prise them away from their paramours and wine cups.’
‘We still haven’t obtained the formula for Fire Drug.’
‘And I doubt we ever will. Failure to find it isn’t a calamity. From what I saw at the demonstration, its power has been exaggerated, the damage it causes being due to its incendiary qualities rather than explosive effects.’
‘I think I know a way of concentrating its power. As you know, I was named after the engineer Hero of Alexandria, who made an engine powered by steam under pressure. If Fire Drug were to be enclosed in a tight casing and then heated, it would release all its energy —’
Vallon cut him off. ‘I haven’t given up all hope of discovering the secret. If I can’t find a way to it by other means, I’ll resort to bribery. The worst that will happen if I’m found out will be summary deportation. In any case, our stay in China is coming to an end.’
Hero probed uncertain ground. ‘What will happen to Qiuylue?’
‘She won’t be coming with me.’
Hero ventured further into treacherous territory. ‘It’s clear that you hold each other in great affection.’
‘The liaison could never last. You seem to forget that I’m betrothed to another with stronger claims on my heart.’
‘Of course I’ll never mention Qiuylue to Lady Caitlin.’
‘It makes no difference. When I return to Constantinople,
I intend to resign my commission and enter a monastery.’
Hero was staggered. ‘But you’re still in your prime.’
‘The emperor effectively ended my career by sending me on this mission. Returning empty-handed will seal my fate. At best I can expect a posting to another dreary frontier.’
Hero rose in a pall of misery. ‘Aiken and I have been invited to visit the imperial porcelain factory this afternoon. Perhaps you’d care to accompany us.’
Vallon pulled a face. ‘I’m not interested in how dishes and cups are made.’ He saw Hero’s face fall even further and sweetened his tone. ‘Don’t let my troubles cloud your day. Enjoy your visit and call on me when you return.’
Hero said nothing of this conversation to Aiken as they travelled by litter through Kaifeng. He suspected that Vallon’s decision to leave China ran counter to his real desires. He’d fallen in love with Qiuylue and the only way he could return to the path of fidelity was by giving up what he held most dear.
The imperial porcelain factory lay within the city’s outer walls, in a secure compound that also housed an armoury and barracks. The factory superintendent showed the visitors round himself. First he took them to the site where the special clay was left to weather for fifty years. Then he showed them the kilns and the furnaces designed to generate the very high temperatures required to fire the porcelain body. Finally he took Hero and Aiken to a warehouse where the finished goods were stockpiled.
Depressed by his conversation with Vallon, Hero couldn’t summon up more than tepid interest. The pieces were exquisitely crafted and beautifully decorated. Held to the sun, they admitted light and rang like a bell if tapped with a pebble. But after seeing yet another bowl glazed in a subtle shade of green, a sense of ennui began to set in. Hero was used to Arab lustreware and Seljuk pottery, which though much cruder in body, enchanted the eye with their vibrant designs painted in brilliant reds, blues, greens and gold.
‘Wonderful workmanship,’ he said, handling a ceramic pillow glazed to resemble jade. ‘Do you ever decorate your wares with brighter pigments?’
The superintendent showed him a vessel with a mouth rimmed in soft purple that flowed down to a brown base. Hero thought it ugly. ‘Like a diner who takes too much salt, my taste has been blunted by a surfeit of colour.’
‘We use a yellow pigment exclusively for imperial wares,’ the superintendent said. He clicked a finger and a workman returned bearing a vase that seemed to have been distilled from sunlight.
Hero handled it with reverence. ‘Remarkable. I haven’t seen anything finer in my life. The glaze is so deep yet so transparent. It draws the eye in even as it reflects.’
‘Mutton-fat glaze,’ said the superintendent. ‘Only one family knows how to achieve it. Even I don’t know the secret.’
‘What makes such a glorious yellow? Where does it come from?’
‘If I told you, I would part company with my head. Not more than a dozen men know the formula. The materials are so rare and valuable that they’re kept under lock and key in the armoury.’
Nervous of holding such a treasure, Hero handed it back. ‘I’m surprised you don’t decorate your wares with strong blues. The Muslims in Turkestan employ cobalt to brilliant effect on their holy places, sheathing whole domes with tiles that gleam like heaven’s vault.’
‘Cobalt is a rare commodity in China and what’s available is of inferior quality, producing a muddy hue that I would never allow on the porcelain produced here. The mineral used by the Karakhanids is imported from Persia and too heavy to be transported overland. I’ve instructed one of the imperial shipping agents to order a consignment by sea. Return this time next year and you’ll see what magic my potters can achieve with Persian blue.’
Hero spoke without any thought of gaining an advantage. ‘Actually, our expedition carried a barrel of Persian cobalt to China. It was a last-minute addition on my part, and sometimes when the way grew hard and the loads heavy, I considered abandoning it. I would love to see how your potters use it.’
The superintendent’s face went from excitement to indifference in a trice. ‘I’ll take the cobalt off your hands. It will serve for practice pieces until my order arrives. As payment…’ He picked up an ivory-glazed bowl decorated with incised lotus leaves. ‘One of our finest pieces, fit for a palace.’
‘I don’t seek anything in return,’ Hero said. ‘The cobalt is a modest gift compared to the riches His Imperial Majesty has heaped on our embassy. I only wish —’
A sharp kick on the ankle shut him up. ‘Don’t give it away,’ Aiken hissed. ‘See if you can exchange it for Fire Drug.’
‘What would a porcelain factory be doing with Fire Drug?’
‘The armoury. You heard the superintendent. He keeps his precious pigments in the armoury, the same place where they store Fire Drug.’
‘I can’t offer cobalt in exchange for Fire Drug. The explosive is a state secret. The superintendent will have us arrested.’
‘Try him. This could be our last chance.’
The superintendent’s smile had worn thin during these exchanges. ‘Do you wish to sell your Persian blue? If so, you can take your pick of any three pieces not reserved for the emperor’s palace.’
Hero plucked up courage. ‘I fear these fragile beauties would never survive the rigours of a camel train. Perhaps we could explore alternative trade goods. In private.’
The superintendent was a toper. The moment he’d dismissed his staff, he quaffed wine from a vessel that was decidedly earthy compared to the porcelain. He adopted a fake jolly tone. ‘Now then, I’m no market trader. I have nothing to offer in return for your Persian blue except my porcelain. Well, perhaps I could run to a thousand cash.’
Hero sipped his wine. ‘If artistry was the measure of value, your most flawed piece would be worth fifty times more than my cobalt.’
‘A connoisseur. I knew it.’
‘Alas, no. My interests reside more in the realm of science. I’m a physician. One of the reasons I travelled to China was because my first master told me your alchemists had discovered the elixir of life.’
‘Cursed Taoists,’ said the superintendent. He was on his second cup. ‘They claim that if you stand on a certain mountain on a certain day and chant the right spell, you’ll become an Immortal. Rubbish. In the past emperors followed their instructions and constructed man-made mountains and meditated on them while their subjects starved below. Didn’t make any difference. The emperors died as must all men. I follow the old ways. I’m a Confucist.’ He upended his cup. ‘Wine made from mare’s-teat grapes. That’s the elixir of life.’
‘My master said that Chinese alchemists had perfected some sort of compound that if taken internally increased longevity. My enquiries have left me confused. It seems that this formula is now used to make bangs and flashes at festivals.’
The superintendent frowned in the act of pouring his second refill. His face cleared. ‘You mean Fire Drug.’ He laughed. ‘I call it Dragon Fire. Whole wards have been razed to the ground by alchemists experimenting with its properties. The government tried to make me adopt it, claiming it would make the kilns burn hotter. At the first trial the kiln burst apart, killing or maiming its attendants.’ The superintendent raised his vinous face. ‘I forget your question.’
‘I’ll exchange my barrel of cobalt for a barrel of your Fire Drug.’
‘I don’t have any. I wouldn’t allow it anywhere near the factory.’
‘They probably store it in the armoury, where you keep your yellow glaze pigment.’
The superintendent put down his cup, slopping some of the wine. ‘Are you suggesting I steal Fire Drug from the imperial armoury?’
‘Lord no,’ Hero said. ‘I was just thinking that you might requisition some for experimenting with in your kilns. I know the first trials were disappointing, but it might be worth making a second attempt.’
Thoughtful now, the superintendent poured again and sipped. ‘Fire Drug for cobalt. Hm. It
will take weeks for the director of the armoury to consider the requisition. You can’t imagine the amount of paperwork involved. Even then there’s no guarantee that my request will be granted.’
‘If there’s anything I can do to expedite matters…’
The superintendent absorbed the meaning. ‘One of my cousins is employed in the quartermaster’s office as an inventory clerk. I’ll consult him as to the best course of action.’
‘If he’s to be employed as a consultant, he should be reimbursed.’
‘Your thoughtfulness does you credit. My cousin isn’t a rich man and has five children and two elderly parents to care for.’
‘Would three thousand cash ease his lot?’
‘Seven thousand would be better.’
‘Five thousand and it’s a deal.’
Vallon was playing chess with Qiuylue when Hero and Aiken burst in, grinning like excited kids.
Hero waited for Qiuylue to leave. ‘We’ve done it,’ he said. ‘One barrel of Fire Drug will soon be ours.’
‘How?’
‘Remember the cobalt I included in the cargo? It turns out to be a rare commodity in China. In exchange for Persian blue, the superintendent of the porcelain factory has promised a barrel of Fire Drug.’
‘Are you sure it isn’t a trap?’
‘There was no guile on either side,’ Aiken said. ‘The superintendent mentioned that he kept certain valuable pigments in the imperial armoury and I immediately made the connection.’
‘How will it be delivered? The guards check all goods entering the compound.’
‘I arranged for the handover to be made at our ship.’
‘They check there, too.’
‘I think I know a way to smuggle it aboard.’
‘Did you obtain the formula?’
‘That would have been too much to hope for.’
‘Then we’re not much further forward.’
‘Don’t be so sure. If the Chinese can unpick the secrets of Greek Fire, we can unravel the mystery of Fire Drug.’
The sun was diffusing into the fog over Kaifeng when Vallon and his party reached the ship. Wulfstan hailed them from the stern deck and raised a hooked hand in greeting. He’d had the prosthetic fitted to make ship-handling easier. A squad of Chinese infantrymen on the jetty rose from their mah-jong and dice. Their captain saluted.
Imperial Fire Page 56
