The Silk Tree

by Julian Stockwin

  In a mist of horror and madness Ying Mei witnessed the other destroyed and then the dwarf stepped aside from his work and she saw her father’s noble face, pale and streaked – with two empty, bloody sockets, where that morning his kind eyes had looked upon her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ‘God only knows where we are on this earth,’ Nicander murmured, a new despair setting in; the further into these fantastical realms they went the more impossible it would be to ever retrace their steps.

  They finally shaped course for land, towards a vast, sprawling seaport set in a bay between bare mountains.

  On deck for exercise, Nicander and Marius mimed to their new master to be allowed to watch. As they came nearer, a panorama of roofs with upturned corners, spiky monoliths and the occasional grand building with red and gold ornamentation came into view.

  Nicander and Marius were held to one side as they came into the wharf. The wafting odour of humanity, cooking and other smells of the city was utterly alien.

  The boat gently bumped alongside and with a rising babble men swarmed aboard.

  The pair were quickly escorted over the gangway. People stopped and stared then broke into a chatter of excited comment after they passed.

  Then it was into a crowded street, pushing through gaping crowds to a courtyard with three carts, each drawn by a huge beast that stood patiently. Their heads had wide, spreading horns that were held low in a crooked curved harness. On one of the carts was a large cage made of ridged wood.

  ‘I’m not getting into that fucking thing!’ Marius protested.

  ‘I reckon it’s not so much to stop us, more to keep the others off our backs,’ Nicander muttered.

  A crowd was building, some gawping and hesitantly approaching, others reaching to touch their faces.

  Nicander hurriedly clambered in. Marius followed and they sat on the rush floor and peered out at the sea of faces.

  With a crack of whips they jerked into motion.

  Once over the surrounding hills the road settled to a slowly meandering route through fields of rice and grain, meticulously kept with narrow paths between and water channels in dead straight lines.

  Workers with wide conical straw hats laboured on, not looking up.

  The carts ground on through the flat and never-varying scene, hauled by the docile, plodding beasts.

  What would become of them? In a land in which not even a word of the language made sense was there the possibility – as there was in the Roman world – that they could emerge from slavery and make a life? Both were unmarried – was there a woman for each out there who could take to them and their strange ways?

  Or was it to be a path ending in miserable degradation, a spiralling down to the dregs of existence and a cur’s death?

  On the fourth day the terrain changed into a broad plain between distant mountains and on the following day a yellow haze on the horizon betrayed the existence of a great city.

  As they rumbled into the fringes the cart stopped and a cloth was spread over the cage. When they eventually came to a halt the cloth was flung back and Nicander and Marius saw they were in the grounds of an opulent villa.

  There were men waiting in silken gowns and exotically coloured vestments, some with halberds, all with blank faces.

  They were hustled in through a tiled gate with stylised lions on each side and across an inner courtyard to a large room where they were left in the care of a strapping woman in black and white with three giggling maids.

  Before they knew what was afoot they were stripped naked and taken to a large tub where they were scrubbed and pummelled. They were then allowed to recover in a thin gown.

  When the women left them the merchant arrived with two others. There was much deliberation but when it was over two girls were summoned. They came with pots and unguents, brushes and sponges and got to work under the stern eye of the merchant.

  The first item was their hair. By now it was long – shoulder-length and unkempt. This was combed and gathered into a fetching tail.

  Marius’s beard was a magnificent imitation of Neptune, fierce and curly, and greatly admired but Nicander’s was a more modest growth which was neatly trimmed.

  Next it was indicated that they should close their eyes and they felt something being smeared on their skin.

  When they opened them again it was to see in a bronze mirror that black kohl had been applied making their eyes wild-looking and rounded to an exaggeration.

  An attendant returned with folded clothes.

  They held them up in puzzlement. A long, featureless length of white linen, edged in red and a loose tunic not too different to what they had been wearing. And finally they were handed a weighty brooch, cheap and worthless.

  An exasperated woman shook the tunics at them until they put them on, then held up the length of linen. Confused, Nicander could not think what to do with it but Marius caught on.

  ‘Makes a passable toga. We wear it like the old-timers did!’ He flung the garment over his shoulder, settling it in front in folds.

  The onlookers laughed and clapped, delighted.

  ‘Well, if this is the uniform around here, I’ve had worse,’ Marius muttered.

  Then their headgear was brought in. Tall and ridiculous, it consisted of a low crown-like piece with peacock feathers fastened to flare in all directions. It felt awkward but had a chinstrap to hold it in place. A pair of rigid clog-like shoes varnished in red completed their outfits.

  The merchant indicated they stand before him while he inspected them closely. Satisfied, he called an attendant forward and seemed to tell him to carry on.

  He proceeded with a mimed lesson in elementary manners. They should keep their silence and stand politely with their hands concealed in their sleeves, their heads lowered. When the merchant indicated, they were to go on their knees and bow, then to rise on command.

  If this was all it was going to take to save them from work in the fields, Nicander was willing to go along with it. Marius’s face was set, giving nothing away.

  The merchant stood up suddenly, and imperiously rattled off orders. Men scurried away and they were beckoned outside to a carriage. They were motioned in, the merchant climbed in opposite and they set off.

  Quite soon they arrived outside the majestic wall of a great complex, the structure gaunt and forbidding with towers at the corners, upturned eaves and shaded lookout parapets.

  The gate was flanked by stone lions and well guarded. They dismounted, the merchant positioning them decorously before the carriage, while he went over to the guards. One disappeared inside.

  ‘I’ve got my suspicions we’re not done with adventuring,’ Nicander said quietly. ‘I believe this rogue is about to sell us up the chain to some patrician for a fat profit.’

  At the gateway a tall, acid-faced man appeared. He was dressed in a florid vermilion gown, on his chest a gold-embroidered rectangle of office, on his head a black hat with odd wings each side of it.

  The merchant indicated urgently; they obediently went to their knees and bowed to the ground. A barked command and they rose again, placing their hands in their sleeves as bid.

  The man approached disdainfully, passing by them once. He returned, stared at Marius’s blue eyes and reached out to stroke his beard. Then without warning he brutally tugged down on it, nearly bringing Marius to his knees.

  The legionary spat an oath but Nicander hastily calmed him. His words, though, aroused the interest of the man who asked something in his musical but utterly incomprehensible tongue. Marius smouldered but shook his head. The man tried again in a different, rougher dialect, with the same result.

  The merchant anxiously intervened but the official waved him off, and signed to them in a lordly manner to converse together.

  Marius turned to Nicander and grinned savagely.

  ‘A right heap of horseshit, don’t you think, Nico?’

  ‘Why, not worth the avoiding of the meanest charioteer, I believe.’


  The official beckoned the merchant back. They spoke together and he swept away without a second glance.

  ‘It seems he’s made a sale.’

  Two men shortly appeared at the gate. One handed the merchant a folded parchment. He tucked it inside his robe and then impatiently gestured for Nicander and Marius to go with them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Inside the gate it was a different world. Ordered, a sense of ancient peace – but also menacing in its alien mystery.

  Nicander and Marius were hurried along a confusing maze of alleyways into a wide courtyard. The reek of horses left no doubt where they were but as they entered a dark passage at the end they were startled by a sudden roar of some wild beast and the agitated chatter of monkeys.

  Cages extended into the gloom, some with giant snakes slowly uncoiling, others with creatures they’d never seen before.

  Their escorts stopped at a door set apart from the animals and entered, pushing Nicander and Marius ahead.

  A small, remarkably ugly man sat at a table spread for a meal. He looked up in annoyance but after a heated exchange the escort left.

  The man raged across the room to Nicander and Marius. Because of a crooked back he could not stand straight and craned his neck sideways to peer up at them.

  He threw out a torrent of words then pointed to a side room.

  When it was clear they didn’t understand, he grabbed Marius, rotated him to face the room, then booted him hard in the rear.

  With a snarl of rage Marius turned on him.

  But in one catlike move the man leapt aside, his hand flinging over his shoulder and coming back with a small but vicious whip.

  ‘Come on, Marius. The ringmaster here wants us in that room,’ Nicander intervened.

  It turned out to be a small sleeping area, and for want of chairs they sat on the bed.

  The man took his time finishing the meal, burping with satisfaction.

  Then they were summoned with a hectoring, animal-quelling roar.

  Twisted back aside, the man was different to the others. His eyes were like their own, round and without the upper fold and he had a close-trimmed beard. Was he a tribesman from the outer lands?

  Nicander and Marius stood uncertainly while he looked at them in puzzlement. At length he stepped back and barked something.

  It was in no language Nicander had come across in his years of merchantry and he shook his head. The man tried again, this time in a rough patter that sounded for all the world like heavily accented Persian.

  Then again – and unbelievably he was hearing Aramaic, the lingua franca of traders in Syria and Anatolia!

  Stammering in his eagerness he managed, ‘I’m Nicander of Leptis Magna. What is your name, sir?’

  The man glowered in triumph. ‘Hah! Knew you were foreign devils, soon as I clapped eyes on you.’

  ‘What are you doing here, where are you—’

  ‘Calm down, Nicandorus whatever. Bugger, but I’m rusty in this barbarian lingo! But thank the gods we can talk – we’ve one pile o’ things to get done.’

  Marius grabbed Nicander’s arm. ‘What’s he say? Tell me, for God’s sake!’

  ‘You speak Aramaic! H-how is this possible?’ blurted Nicander.

  The man eyed him shrewdly. ‘Let’s be straight on one thing. Wherever you’ve come from I don’t give a toss. Now, I’m the master, you bastards are my slaves and you do what I say. Understand that, Mr Nicandorus?’

  ‘Yes, Mr …?’

  ‘You two can call me Beastmaster Yi.’

  ‘Tell me!’ implored Marius piteously.

  Nicander ignored him. ‘Mr Yi, sir. In all mercy, please, what country is this? Where under heaven are we? I beg!’

  Yi eased into a smile and slowly shook his head. ‘Then you really don’t know, do you?’

  ‘No! For pity’s sake …!’

  ‘I’m of Chalcis, in Syria. Know it?’ He went on, ‘That was a fine place to grow up. But then the Persians went through it on their way to sack Antioch and I was taken. The fucking bastards sold me on to a Bactrian as a stripling and I can’t remember how come I ended here. Where are you from, then?’

  Nicander hastily brought Marius up to date, then told their story to Yi.

  ‘Byzantium? I’d keep a bit quiet about that, if I was you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They knows nothing here about the other side of the world – only that someone out there is paying big for what they’ve got a lot of. Silk. They doesn’t want ’em to find out, break their secret of how it’s made or they’d do it themselves. So anyone from that side has got to be a spy, hasn’t they?’

  ‘I suppose so. Grows on trees, of course, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Silk? Don’t be stupid. It’s little insects weaving away like spiders.’

  ‘But – how?’

  ‘Don’t ask me fool questions. Talk to the peasants, they’re herding the worms.’

  ‘No trees?’

  ‘No, no trees. Now – you had it tough, but you’ve got it better than me – I had to start on my own, no one to speak the old lingo to me! Made it all on my own, I did.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Yi. But – please tell, where the devil are we at all?’

  ‘Well, you’re in Chung Kuo. Means the middle kingdom, it being the centre of the world,’ he added. ‘The Romans call it Sinae, Serica or something. All these people, they’re your Seres. Heard of it?’

  Nicander gulped, speechless.

  Yi went on, ‘Here they sometimes call ’emselves Sons of Chin. I’d think we’d have to call it Chayna, it being easier in Aramaic, and I suppose the locals are then Chinese.

  ‘More’n that,’ Yi went on impressively. ‘This here is Yeh Ch’eng, and it’s the imperial city, the capital of the Northern Ch’i dynasty.’

  At the puzzled look he explained, ‘You’ve come to the big one. This is where Emperor Wen Hsuan, the Son of Heaven himself, lives and rules – and this is his palace!’

  ‘Then … why are we here?’

  ‘Ha! Because that prick Hao is banking on you being the next big act at the Emperor’s feasts.’

  ‘Act?’

  ‘Yes! Thinks you should prance about being fantastical foreign devils, frighten the ladies, you looking so queer, like.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I know,’ Yi said bitterly. ‘Me! The top beastmaster in the kingdom! I’m proud o’ my work, I’ve had leopards and lambs in a chase act, snakes as will play dead and alive, dogs walking backwards. And now they want me to put on a couple of kuei lao strutting about acting foreign. Won’t work, I tell you.’

  ‘This is why we’re wearing this stuff?’

  Yi nodded. ‘The merchant who traded you to Hao wanted to dress you up to look like a kuei lao. See, years ago, the time of the Han dynasty – ’bout three hundred years ago, about the same time as, oh, Antoninus, was it? – seems that some Romans did come here, no idea how. Didn’t do ’em any good, they had nothing to trade the Chinese wanted, and never came back. But they made a splash at the time, and ever since, they think all kuei lao wear a toga like in old Rome, and they’ll expect you to look the part.’

  Nicander tried to make some sense of all that he was hearing. ‘So – we live here as your slaves, and our job’s to be going on public show as …’

  ‘As a kuei lao – foreign devil. I can’t see it lasting,’ Yi said acidly. ‘And I’ll be blamed. Wen Hsuan – he’s barking mad and murderous with it, you know – he tires of things very quickly. I spend all the days the gods give me trying to think of something new for the prick and, every time, I leave the room feeling for my head, that it’s still there.’

  ‘So it’s important—’

  ‘It’s life and bloody death! If the bastard’s not amused I wouldn’t give a single lychee for your chances of seeing out the year. Savvy?’

  Nicander murmured something appropriate and relayed it all on to Marius.

  Then the germ of a notion took root.

  ‘Say, Mr
Yi. I’ve been thinking. By my reckoning we’re all in this together. Why don’t we come up with an act that gets in the crowd, wins them over to our side.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, I’ve an idea, but we can talk about that later. What I’d like to be assured of is that we’ll be looked after. Decent living quarters, regular routine, that sort of thing. Then we’d be keen in our work, wanting more – and giving all credit to you, of course.’

  ‘You’re still my slaves.’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. I thought more along the lines of say, foreign devils together against the odds – friends, in fact.’

  ‘Bloody cheek! I’ll sleep on it.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Yi honoured his end of the bargain. They were given a room to themselves overlooking the upturned roofs of the city, unheard of for mere slaves.

  Their beds were raised platforms with poles at each corner from which a red cloth curtain hung on three sides. The mattress was a woven rush matting and the pillow a polished woodblock, cut away where the head would rest. There was also a black lacquered low table; stools with cunningly crafted paw-shaped legs; a side table with drawers and some colourful hangings.

  Nicander stretched out. ‘So, we’re here in Sinae – or I should say Chayna. But in the name of all that’s holy, just what’s waiting in store for us?’

  ‘Pig swill and insults,’ Marius came back. ‘Expect that, and you won’t be disappointed.’

  ‘Don’t come it the Cynic, Marius. If I’ve learnt anything from our adventuring it’s that you can go from king of the world to boot-licker slave in the blink of an eye. More the Stoic is the thing – we don’t know our destiny therefore we do what we can to make our present existence as tolerable as possible.’

  ‘Where’s your pride, Greek? We’re from a great country and don’t belong here. We’re going back to where we can hold our heads up, sup on decent vittles and—’