She replied: “It is difficult to speak on that. You will understand that I am more accustomed to say of a girl that she is not going to have a child than to estimate the probability that she will. And with already married women it is still more difficult. There are signs . . . One can but wait in patience.”
Thus she concealed, as far as might be, her near-certainty that the Lady of the Tapestry was not, at the immediate future, likely to make Father Peng again the possessor of a grandson.
Father Peng was saying: “I should take it as a courtesy if you could so far postpone your business in the Capital as to spare us another day of your company. I shall claim the right to deal with the claims of your bearers. But it has occurred to me that the greater, unknown shock which my eldest granddaughter has seemingly suffered might yield to the lesser, known sorrow which she experienced on the day of the death of the Lady Yang. I thought that perhaps, if you or your friend took the girl out yonder on to the slope where she was saved from a horrible death by the eunuch Han Im, something of what she felt there might flow back into her empty mind and start a return to herself.”
Honeysuckle answered: “I will get Clear Rain to go with her. Clear Rain is the possessor of a soothing, receptive personality. I, myself, am a little too sharp at the corners, too much like . . .”
Father Peng replied: “Like unresponsive jade? No; you could not be said to resemble unresponsive jade. But if you think that the girl Clear Rain would serve our purpose the better, it shall be so. They ought to have a bowl of soup, at least, ready by now.”
Honeysuckle promptly praised the evening meal of the night before, saying that its efficiency as a satisfier of appetites left her unable to take any complimentary interest in food so soon.
“The frogs’ legs and bean-sprouts were remarkable enough in themselves,” she said, “but the sauce which was served with them, seemingly containing ginger and honey, made one forget the frogs in the excitement of the ginger, made one disregard the bean-sprouts in the surprise of the honey.”
Yet, when the soup was served in the Great Hall, she did not leave any at the bottom of her bowl.
Clear Rain said to the groom: “I think she wants to ride. You would be wise to put a saddle on the horse.”
The groom replied: “I will do so. You will want a horse as well? It is fortunate that in the neighbourhood of Chang-an we are famous throughout the Eight Directions for the breeding of horses; otherwise the officers who came from the Capital to requisition mounts would not have left us these two.” He busied himself with a girth.
Clear Rain had always wanted to ride a horse. She remembered that the Lady Kuo Kuo, the sister of the Lady Yang, had been famous for her horsemanship, and that it was owing to this skill that she and the wife of her unfortunate brother, Yang Kuo, had been killed by the soldiers at another place. But, despite this unhappy idea, she still wanted to ride, and the others, coming out of the Great Hall, were astonished to see the two girls riding out through the side doors, Winter Cherry leading and Clear Rain clinging to her own saddle-bow with mock desperation.
“If only I could grip the beast properly with my knees!” she cried as she went by.
Honeysuckle forbore to make a suitable reply, and they all watched the two move slowly up the slope away from them.
Clear Rain did not speak as they rode, for she was fully occupied. She had never dreamed that a seat could be so precarious that it demanded all her attention, and began to feel admiration for those horsemen whom one saw daily in Chang-an reining in their steeds to a pivoting stand or moving with them as if man and horse were part of the same animal.
Winter Cherry led on, walking her horse gently up the slope. Near the top, she reined in. Clear Rain came up beside her.
“It was here,” Winter Cherry said. Then she shook the reins and moved off back to the farm.
Later, rubbing herself carefully, Clear Rain told Honeysuckle what Winter Cherry had said.
Honeysuckle replied: “She is remembering. What she needs now to cure her is the presence of that boy Ah Lai, who is now far away on the Emperor’s business. And how did you like riding? As you went by on your way out I nearly called after you to keep your knees together.”
“But on a horse one cannot keep the knees together, whichever way one sits,” Clear Rain replied.
Honeysuckle answered: “I know. But I thought possibly our hosts might misunderstand me, and I did not want that. Here—let me rub some oil in. Then I must go and discuss poetry with the old man. All men are really the same, I have found out, for they all have something to show you, something to discuss with you, and something to ask your advice about. With the old man, it is poetry.”
“A finger’s breadth more towards the middle,” Clear Rain answered.
Old Father Peng wrote with fine calligraphy:
PART FOUR
In the ninth moon, during the period of Cold Dew, the farm stood silent, secret and remote under a slanting sun. The grain had been garnered: the autumn work was done. The farm gates stood bolted and barred, and from a single, high window Father Peng looked out to the north-west.
All day long the battle had been joined there, over the ridges. All the morning long Father Peng had watched men move past the farm towards the fight, too hasty to bend even a glance in the direction of the shut gates. All the afternoon he had seen men stream back towards the Capital, men broken and downcast, archers with their bows loose, horses with sweat dried white on their coats. And all day had come nearer the sound of drums beating the advance, gongs sounding the retreat.
Still Father Peng watched, hastily gulping soup which they brought him, then setting it down and turning back to the high window.
The last few came.
When they, too, had passed towards the Capital, a figure on a horse appeared on the crest and halted there. A second man appeared beside the rider and it seemed from his fuller garments that he could be a priest. He was on foot. Then the two moved slowly down towards the farm and, after they had passed out of range of Father Peng’s window, he could hear the sound of knocking at the outer gate.
When Father Peng reached the gate, Peng Yeh and the servants had reached there first.