by Jeremy Han
Wen pleaded, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please. Jian Wen is like a son to me. I brought him up, taught him as I had taught you. To me, you both are like sons I will never have. And now I am turning to you to save...an emperor who called a slave ‘brother’.” Zheng He remained silent.
Wen kneeled before him. “I beg you Sanbao. You must remember him for he has been kind to you before. And you are a eunuch too. Do you not remember the humiliation done to you to never have children, to never have a line after you? Jian Wen was the closest I had to a son. I beg you to save his life. Let him sail with you and then leave him anywhere you see fit as long as it is a place the Eastern Depot cannot reach him.”
There was a silence as loud as thunder, as his teacher’s words reverberated in Zheng He’s ears, echoing its severity into his mind. Slowly, the seriousness of its meaning settled in. The admiral sat down heavily, stunned. For awhile, the two men sat in silence, the only sound coming from the waves breaking, and the wind blowing. The revelation about Jian Wen like a wall between them: They were no longer teacher and student but traitor and soldier. Zheng He spoke softly finally,
“You could be killed. You know how brutal Yong Le is. It would be terrible.”
The old man looked into his student’s eyes with a peaceful gaze. Not the look of a hunted criminal but a man at peace with himself. “I have thought about this for the last eighteen years, asking myself if it comes to this, would I do it. And my answer is yes.”
“But this is treason. You serve the imperial family. How could you let an enemy of the emperor escape? You survived the purges because you are a eunuch. If Yong Le finds out, he will kill you in the most terrible way.”
His teacher chuckled softly. “Serve? Yes Sanbao, you and I serve the imperial family as eunuchs. You see, Sanbao, we eunuchs are supposed to be servants. But have we forgotten that we are human as well? Just because they removed our manhood does not mean that they remove our heart, our conscience. I have been in imperial service for forty years now. I have no family but does that mean that I cannot love? That I cannot feel for another’s child like my own? Just because we are eunuchs, we cannot yearn to be a father? Jian wen was like my son. I taught him, Sanbao, just like I taught you.” Wen looked at the admiral, who looked heavily burdened. A request from your teacher was like one from your own father. To refuse a morally upright request was a great dishonour. But in this case, it was also treason. The old man continued,
“I know what Yong Le is capable of doing. Just remember Fang Xiaoru.” He was referring to the scholar who was asked by the emperor Yong Le to write his inaugural address. He refused because of his loyalty to the emperor Jian Wen. He was also steadfastly against Yong Le for his unlawful rebellion. The emperor responded by executing not just him but his entire clan, as well as his students and peers. In all, more than eight hundred people were executed because of one man’s unbending allegiance to morality.
He continued, now his voice tired. “But I have no family, Sanbao. No one to risk except myself but two people to save: my students, you and the emperor Jian Wen. I am trying to save Jian wen’s life and your soul. Just because you are a eunuch Sanbao, does not mean that you must sacrifice your conscience and let an innocent man die.”
Zheng He tried once more.
“But teacher, how do you know Jian Wen still lives? He could be dead by now.” Sanbao asked, eager for an escape clause.”
“No he is alive. I know where he is.”
FOUR
They had come a long, long way. In a way, one could say they had walked the length of the Great Wall of China. The two horsemen gazed ahead and saw the shimmering city, and a little beyond them laid the western end of the Great Wall. This fortress city was commonly known as the ‘The Tail of the Dragon’, as it is the end of the mighty wall that stretched along its northern border. Its ‘Head’ was all the way to the other side at Sanhai Guan in the northeast, thousands of miles away close to the land of the Manchus. The city of Jiayu Guan lay before them, and that was where their mission was to be accomplished. This city was the last Chinese city before the gates of its fortress pass open into a land of uncertainty, desert and frequently, death. This border pass could lead to wealth via the Silk Road, to an obscure demise in the merciless desert or slavery under the barbarians that inhabit the world beyond the Middle Kingdom. Such was the view point of the Han that exiles were sent through the Jiayu Pass as a symbolic gesture to show that they were expelled from civilisation. Ordinary citizens who needed to exit the city to trade were given a pass, a red letter with the word ling which means ‘authority’ – authority to re-enter the Middle Kingdom. As the two riders approached the city gates, the great structure beyond filled them with awe. Tan-coloured imposing walls rose out of the sand and reached to the blue sky. Beyond that loomed the great, snow covered peaks of the Tianshan mountain range, always white against the blue sky. Watch towers were erected strategically to look into the endless horizons like hawks for the sign of an invasion for after all, the fortress was constructed by the first Ming emperor in anticipation of an invasion by the great Central Asian leader Timur, who fortunately or unfortunately, depending on whose point of view, died while leading his army like a sandstorm against these mud and brick walls. The fortress was ingeniously designed for war with layers of walls surrounding empty courtyards enclosed by even more walls, so that an enemy who penetrated a gate would run into a dead end surrounded by four walls lined with archers who would rain death on those men caught like rats in a cage. The soldiers on duty looked at them with a passing glance; threats to Jiayu Guan came from the other direction, from the vast, limitless horizon of the Xiyu, the great Western Desert, not from the empire’s interior.
As they approached the city gate, the two men felt a sucking wind. The tunnel leading from the main gate through the walls created a funnel for the strong winds in this region to be channelled through the only passage way, creating a whooshing sound as they entered the tunnel beyond the massive wooden gates. The wind was so strong they felt a force propelling them forward slightly. The temporary shade gave respite to the two men as they passed through the city gate. Their horses walked slowly as though they too needed a little shelter from the sun. Soon the glare was piercing the eyes of the two riders again. The whooshing had stopped. The buildings along the street offered no shadow from the scorching noon day sun. It was a typical town like any other in the empire except that the racial mix was vastly different compared to the inner cities. Ma Hun, the lead rider looked around and saw traders, craftsmen and all other kinds of people mingling, haggling and going about with the business of life. They were dressed in various colours and fashions that conveyed an identity that was equally varied. Compared to the unchanging dullness of the desert, this small square filled with people and goods from different regions looked invitingly metropolitan. Ma Hun, a native of Hebei province, was a young man recently appointed to the Eastern Depot. As with all agents, he was highly skilled and battle tested. Filled with ambition and drive, he had worked hard for this promotion and opportunity to serve the emperor. But it was the authority vested in the Dong Chang that truly attracted him: The power to torture and to kill with impunity. He rode straight back on the horse, taking great pride in his purpose for coming.
He continued to look, fascinated at the potpourri of ethnicity, and wondered what the world must be like beyond this city, which was the meeting point of the cultures that surround the empire. Ma Hun and his partner, An Deli had ridden for weeks to reach this place. “Ma Hun, head over there.” His partner An Deli was older and he commanded. He was the senior man in the team. An usually acted as Ji Gang’s second in command as he was a man known for both his deliberateness in action and careful thinking. He was not anxious to prove himself like Ma, who was on his first mission. An was a seasoned agent and knew when to act and when not to.
They went toward the Yamen, the local magistrate’s office. They tied their horses and approached the guard. Before the sentry cou
ld speak, An Deli thrust his pass into the man’s face and said,
“We want to speak to the magistrate now. We are from the Eastern Depot.”
That was enough to get the man scampering in to seek his master’s attention. This far from the capital, a sudden visit by the Dong Chang made it even more ominous. An and his partner Ma entered the magistrate’s chamber and waited. It was not long before the miserable magistrate came and greeted his ‘guests’. He looked as drab and tired as the desert city he was assigned to. Obviously, the best and brightest officials remained at the northern capital.
“Sirs, what can I do for you?” He asked as a servant poured tea.
“We are here to ask you some questions.” An spoke after he drank. “Do you have the records of all those who left the Pass this last eighteen years?”
“Yes Lord. Why may I ask?”
“You may not. Just bring the records.”
That evening, An Deli told his assistant Ma that he would be going out. The discussion with the magistrate yielded an answer that An expected; the Jian Wen emperor did not leave the empire here.
“Stay at the inn. I am looking for someone, a person more likely to know the true answer than the magistrate.”
“Who?”
“Look after the place.”
And then he walked out of the room, leaving Ma Hun fuming. He was supposed to be paired with An to locate Jian Wen, not to guard luggage. He hated the way An brushed him off.
As An headed into town, he asked for a few directions, and then he headed to a quiet part of the place, where the crowd thinned. Before long, he was walking on a dark, quiet street with few people. He approached a house with two armed, burly, turbaned guards standing under a lone lantern. He walked purposefully toward it, his body language aggressive.
In the Han language, there is a phrase that says ‘the man who comes does not do so with good intentions and the one with good intentions does not come.’ An personified that saying. The two sentries sensed his intentions and drew sabres. The first one to move died so quickly he did not even know it. An sliced opened the first guard’s throat as he drew the blade with lightning speed. The other man was shocked by the copious amount of blood spewing out of his partner that he stood frozen for a split second. An thrust the blade and killed him instantly. He flicked the blade to clear the blood and then he entered the house.
The fat man sitting by the oil lamp counting his money jumped when he saw An. The secret agent had killed the men so silently and efficiently that there was no noise. He startled at the sight of the intruder and gave a shout.
“Who are you? Guards! Where are my guards?” He shouted, turning his head to look around.
“They are dead.” An replied coolly. “And you will too if you do not cooperate.” He had killed the guards to give the man the impression that he had lost all control.
“Who are you and what do you want?” The fat man asked. He thought An was a killer sent from a rival. His face started to shine from perspiration. In reply to his question, An threw the ling on to the table.
“Eastern Depot?” The man asked with incredulity. He was a criminal in many ways but he did not get involved in state matters. An sensed what he was thinking.
“I have no interest in your business. All I need to know is whether a man had ever used your services to leave this Pass. Answer me truthfully and I will leave.”
After some time, An emerged from the house. His sword was sheathed as he did not expect to use it on his way back to the inn. He walked down the lonely street again, and then took a turn at the street corner, having remembered the way back. At that moment, all his senses went on full alert; his hands flew down to the handle of the sword and drew it just as his feet slid backward to avoid the coming attack. His sword flashed at the man waiting for him at the blind turn and caused a loud clang as it struck metal. Just as fast as An drew his weapon, a spear head thrust forward and blocked the cold steel blade from counter-attacking. As An readied himself for the next strike, the man stepped into the light.
“Ma Hun? What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, shocked that it was his colleague.
“Where did you go? Who was the man you met?” Ma demanded.
An turned toward him and said coldly. “In the intelligence business, the official source is often the least accurate. If the Jian Wen emperor left through here, do you think he would have applied for a permit through the magistrate? This border town is like a sieve. The man I visited is the head of the smuggling operations here. If anyone should know if a fugitive left the city through this place, he would.”
“I am your assigned partner. You should have told me and I could have covered your back.”
“Do I look like I need your help boy?”An started to walk away and then he stopped and said to his partner with a sneer.
“It seems that you have a lot to learn about intelligence gathering.”
FIVE
The old man tried to admire the scenery without paying any attention to the stench but could not. Rows of pine and poplars lined the road ahead. The ground was covered in a mosaic of red and yellow to celebrate the coming of autumn. Mingling with the smell of fresh fallen leaves and gum was the smell of waste. He covered his nose as it wrinkled involuntarily. He shook his head to indicate the pity he felt for the person who lived here. Still, he trudged down the muddy path. He mission was more important than his personal comforts. Someone dear to him was in danger, and old as he was, he had to do something. He headed toward the tannery by the river. Before him was the path leading to the clearing where the tannery was, but the compound was blocked by the beautiful poplar trees to the right. The leaves were turning red. When he looked up, the sunlight shone through the leaves turning them into little red lanterns shining in the day. A gush of wind lifted his hair, temporarily dispelled the odour. He smiled sadly and thought, such a nice place, such a sad circumstance.
As he reached the clearing, he could see rows of animal hide being sunned. The whitish skins were cut into squares and were stretched out on A-framed wooden racks. These were the pieces that were almost ready. Next he could see a shed with the huge wooden tubs. That was where the stink came from; those containers were filled with urine. The old man knew that the skins were soaked in urine for days to remove any hair in it. Tanners would also soak the skin in water mixed with dung before stepping on it to make it supple. That was why the whole place stank so strongly. He covered his nose as he passed the unpleasant shed. Used to a good life, the old man was no longer familiar with such crude conditions, but still he continued on. He treaded softly in small steps until he passed the shed where the skins were beaten and scoured. He knew inside the hut there was a table made of rough wood. The wood was old and covered with blood from the skin of countless animals until one could no longer discern what its original colour was. Blood, flesh, dung and urine; a most unpleasant place to be for a refined, old man, he thought. Yet, he knew the circumstances that created this place. The owner did not want to end up owning and living in a tannery either.
Finally, the old man came to a small hut with a balcony facing the river. Here he confirmed this was the right place. Next to the hut stood a tree with bark severely mauled. He walked over and fingered the ripped wood admiringly, imagining the power that destroyed the wood then he proceeded to the hut. The wooden hut was sturdy. It had small windows facing inland; the owner took a very serious view to preserving privacy. A boat was tied to the railings. From what he knew about the owner, the little boat was probably well-stocked with supplies and perhaps a weapon or two. He took in the fresh scent of the river now that he was away from the smelly factory. He stepped onto the creaking wood and took a seat by the chair on the balcony, listening to the lapping waters. Such a peaceful place, he thought as he contemplated the willows by the water, then his attention was caught by the sight of a kingfisher skimming the water before breaking the flawless liquid mirror. He sat there for a long time with a level of patience developed from years of
waiting upon others. He should not have been here, but still he waited.
The old man heard dogs barking. He turned his head, but he could see no one. He knew the owner of the tannery had returned. Then he felt the stone hitting his leg and he turned.
“Gotcha!” The man smiled at the old man as he stepped up the balcony to join him.
“What winds brought you here my friend?”
“Zhao Qi, you look good. It must be all the smell of shit that has kept you young.”
The old man’s face crinkled with laughter. Before him was the familiar figure of Zhao Qi, the captain of Jian Wen’s bodyguard. No longer youthful, the man had a mellowed look about him like someone who had spent the last years thinking of a lot of things. There were lines on his once smooth face. He wore a loose tunic that was common among labourers with his pants folded up at the legs to reveal a pair of sturdy calves. Wen knew that it was tough running a tannery and it showed on the man’s physique and countenance. Zhao kept his strong, middle-height frame, in fighting shape. The face was still one of a faithful and honest man. Plain looking but somehow charismatic, he looked like a down-to-earth leader. The appearance of his friend lifted him momentarily from his sorrows.
