She parted her mistress’s hair and brushed it in long, practised sweeps, then paused in mock irritation. ‘Do keep still, my pet,’ she said, positioning her head before continuing.
‘But you’ll-’
‘Things will go hard for us all soon, and you will need someone to look after you, my dear. Don’t worry, we’ll make do.’
Ying Mei choked back her feelings.
Kao Yang struck early. In the Hour of the Rabbit, before the more auspicious Hour of the Dragon could come, it was clear that a clash at arms was taking place just beyond the walls of the city. Faintly, on the still morning air, brassy stridency, screams and the continuous din of weapons carried out from a whirling ocean of dust that was blotting out the bloody scenes.
Ying Mei ran into the courtyard, trying to escape the terrifying sounds. Past the ornamental pond, the lion-carved gates empty of guards, she fled instinctively into the sanctuary of the Inner Court – and the Throne Room.
The incense braziers were not lit and the close odour of ancient decay lay heavy on the air. There were few officials in attendance but five loyal guards stood to attention close to the hanging gauze.
‘Is…?’ she gasped.
One nodded importantly.
She fell prostrate. ‘Heavenly Lord, I beg forgiveness for my intrusion. I… I-’
‘Be still, child. You come for reassurance from your emperor and that is a very natural thing.’ The voice had a strength in it, a dignity that reached out to her.
‘Sire – may I… c-could I s-stay here?’
‘Granted – if you do read to us from the classics of Han while we… wait.’
She rummaged in a nearby chest: works sanctified by the centuries, the learning of scholars in remote dynasties of China separated by vast gulfs of time, yet joined to the present by a golden thread of enduring values.
It steadied her as she read; the written characters, strong and upright, scribed by long-dead sages who seemed to be talking to her directly. The Book of Odes, the Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean. Confucius, K’uo Tzu, Ch’uang Tzu. She felt their strength and certainty – and was comforted.
She was deep into the transcendent mysteries of the I Ching, the Book of Changes, when the Grand Chamberlain appeared.
He said nothing but proceeded to perform a ceremonial kowtow, the three times three of prostrating full-length before his emperor, his forehead gently touching the ground repeatedly in humble obeisance.
He rose at last, and head bowed, intoned, ‘Great Ruler – the gravest of tidings. The Lord Kao Yang and General Wu met in battle and it is my solemn duty to inform the Dragon Throne that General Wu was overcome, his forces slaughtered. He was executed in the field.’
There was the briefest hesitation before he went on, ‘This, therefore, is the last sanction. Yeh Ch’eng must fall.’
From behind the hanging a serene voice replied, ‘We understand.’
‘Does the Son of Heaven comprehend also that there is still a little time in which the way is clear for a retreat to-’
‘The Empire of Wei will not be yielded up by flight. We will occupy the throne until heaven mandates otherwise.’
The Grand Chamberlain bowed silently and withdrew to the shadows where he stood motionless, waiting. Others joined him; quiet, expressionless, dignified.
A towering stillness descended.
Long minutes turned into an hour. Distant sounds of cries, the rumbling of massed horses and full-throated shouts came fitfully.
Another hour passed. The noise faded and there was now nothing but a death-like silence. It seemed to Ying Mei that the world was clamped into an infinite suspension of time, an unreal floating of the spirit in a state of-
The door crashed open and a dozen warriors burst in. Swarthy, and in field tunics stained from the battlefield, they bore Kao Yang’s cruel falcon cipher. Fanning out quickly, with swords up, they took commanding positions.
‘Let no one move!’ shouted an officer at the door.
Ying Mei’s heart beat wildly but she remained by her father’s side, her hands tightly clasped within her sleeves. There was no sound from behind the yellow gauze hanging.
The officer walked about warily among the stock-still figures until, apparently satisfied, he gestured to one of the soldiers.
Minutes later the stillness was interrupted by voices outside and then, with a shocking suddenness, the warlord Kao Yang was in the doorway, feet planted astride, thumbs hooked belligerently into a broad belt. Under a rich scarlet battle cloak he still wore his lapped plate armour. A tall, gold-tasselled hat looked out of place on his stout figure.
He glanced about arrogantly. ‘Emperor of the Wei!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve come!’
There was no indication from behind the yellow gauze that he had been heard.
The Grand Chamberlain came forward and bowed low. ‘The ancient ways of piety and respect are not so easily to be set aside. The Son of Heaven is not accustomed-’
Contemptuously, Kao Yang knocked him sprawling. Ying Mei gasped but held still, trapped in thrall to events, as was the rest of the court.
Kao Yang strode up to the canopied dais and ripped away the fine gauze in savage tugs until the Emperor of the Wei was revealed. Sitting calmly, and dressed in full imperial regalia, he stared back unblinking at the intruder.
‘Yield up the throne to me. Your reign has ended this day!’
‘Make your obeisance, Lord Kao Yang,’ the Emperor demanded quietly. ‘The Mandate of Heaven has not passed from my hands.’
‘Ha! Then how do you account for me being here, with you at my mercy like a common cur? The gods have withdrawn their favour, Yuan Shan Chien, and better you know it!’
A smothered gasp went up at the great disrespect shown by the deliberate use of the Emperor’s common birth name.
‘You would risk the wrath of heaven, Lord Kao Yang? To seek to depose the rightful emperor is-’
‘I will have the throne! Take him,’ he ordered the soldiers, gesturing savagely.
They hung back, clearly reluctant to lay hands on the person of their emperor.
‘Remove him or I’ll have you craven scum gutted and hung like sheep!’
In visible consternation, they still hesitated, some making ineffective attempts to move forward.
Kao Yang went red with fury but was forestalled as the Wei Emperor rose painfully and said, ‘We do declare that we have been overborne by forces beyond our power to control and therefore this day must yield up our ancestral rights to another.’ He moved to the front of the dais and with the utmost nobility descended the steps, ignoring Kao Yang. His five guards fell prone in a kowtow, remaining in the position even after their emperor had left the Throne Room.
Regaining his composure, Kao Yang snapped to the officer, ‘Take them out and decapitate them.’
As the guards were dragged away, he challenged the room with a fierce glare, then turned and mounted the steps. At the top he wheeled about triumphantly. ‘Take heed, you people of Wei! Know that you see before you your new emperor, the first in line of a new dynasty – the Northern Ch’i!’
It was done. It was now manifest that the gods had seen fit to withhold their protection, and thus whatever the fate of the old, allegiance and duty would transfer to the new.
In the appalled silence first one, then several quavering chants rose. ‘Wan wan siu! Wan wan siu! Wan wan siu!’ Others joined in, then more, until the hall rang with fervent shouting.
Kao Yang held up a hand and the noise quickly died. ‘Each of you will make his obeisance.’
As figures came forward to fall prostrate in the ceremonial kowtow, his eyes roved suspiciously over them.
‘Send for scribes, secretaries,’ he commanded. ‘We wish set down from this hour the first records of the Northern Ch’i.’
The Emperor leant back in the throne, his hands casually stroking the lion knobs on its armrests. ‘We shall now decide on our court,’ he declared, a brief nod inviting a first candidate.