Her father desired it, therefore there was no recourse to argument or self-pity. She was going to the far lands and that was an end to it.
After all, as she’d told her uncle, there were Chinese princesses who had gone this way before on their way to permanent exile, to be married for political reasons to some barbarian king. They must have gone through this agony but had nevertheless nobly complied for the sake of their country. At least she was not being dispatched to marry a horse-stinking nomad or mountain dwarf.
It made her feel better – but then again they knew where they were going, what their fate was – she didn’t. Would this far country be a terrifying place of witches and goblins, barbarous civilisations who despised the delicacy of Chinese thought and manners? Would the men…
She crushed the thoughts.
Whatever lay in the future she would face it as the daughter of a Kuo. And, she clutched close to her heart, she was a lady, high-born and with an impeccable education and would never let her standards slip whatever the situation. If she was confronted by barbarians then they would see her quality and respect her nobility…
Certainly she would maintain her distance from the holy men, uncouth and rough-tongued as they were, more or less barbarians themselves. Her father had shrewdly set limits on their familiarity: ‘wise direction’ she would only accept as a last resort and that properly, through her Gold Lily Lady-in-Waiting. They held the chest and means to pay their way through as well as the authority to draw upon her uncle’s account, quite sufficient to keep the holy men humble and supplicants for the length of the journey.
The passage would be long; she and Tai Yi would be in their company all that time and it would be essential to maintain a countenance.
From outside came a sudden massed tinkling of small cymbals and the acrid drift of incense sticks. The drone of chanting began from the Buddhists claiming protection for their journey. This was followed by the hearty thumping of drums and loud gongs calculated to keep the Taoist demons at bay.
They would be leaving very soon.
Deep within her, Ying Mei’s heart began to cry out in its desolation.
The order came down the line. ‘Mount up!’
Nicander swung up on to his horse. The saddle was not a supple leather one but a felted wooden frame, with a high crudely carved lion for its horn. What was so strange were the two foot supports dangling each side. He noticed others had put their feet in the iron loops and he did the same. It felt odd but remarkably steadying.
The crowds were thickening but kept at bay. Much of Chang An had come to see one of their famed caravans set out on their legendary journeys and he was one of the intrepid travellers! His excitement grew.
Marius, trying to control his horse which was gyrating and snorting at the noise, managed a quick grin.
Ahead there was definite movement, heads turning, gesturing. From over to the right people fell back quickly – and the head of a column of soldiers swung into view.
Nicander’s first instinct was terror – then it was replaced by anger that they had been so easily trapped.
Run? Hide? By now the caravanserai would be well and truly surrounded.
Dully he watched the soldiers tramp around to head off the line of camels, an officer on a horse accompanying them.
They reached the front of the line, then the tall gates of the western wall of the city opened up and the soldiers marched through.
‘It’s our bloody escort!’ Marius gasped in relief.
With a surge of shouting and cries and a tinkle and jingling of harness the front of the caravan set off through the gates.
The ripple of movement reached back to them, and in a haze of unbelief he felt the horse jolt into motion to follow the next ahead. A slight twitch at his saddle showed that their camel was beginning its plod behind them. The whole caravan was under way.
The wall neared, then the open gates – and they were through, in the outside world and on the road heading out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
In a line that stretched for over a mile the caravan wound down the dusty road, past the mean dwellings outside the gates of the town. Excited cries came from the local people.
Another drone of chanting accompanied by horns and cymbals arose from the Buddhist monks. Not to be outdone the soldiers marching in the van began a full-throated song and then the women and girls of the caravan started a spirited chorus with tambourines and drums.
The onlookers applauded, enraptured by the sight of a fabled caravan setting out for the vast unknown. Hundreds of camels mounted or led by as colourful and outlandish a mixture of races and dress as it was possible to be, all in gleeful celebration of their departing.
It stirred Nicander’s soul – these people would be going about their ordinary lives again once they had watched them disappear toward the far-distant mountains, but they were destined to go where very few did, to lands and wonders, adventures and perils that would only tempt disbelief – if they got through.
His eyes travelled to the far-off leaders, to the escort, with the easy swing of soldiers long inured to the march. They were followed by a single file of plodding camels piled high with goods, then a string of horses, more camels and then themselves, the travellers, perhaps no more than thirty.
He swung round; close behind was their faithful camel.
A shaggy merchant on a horse followed, his effortless sway showing an easy familiarity. Catching Nicander’s eyes the man launched into a raucous chorus of his own. Marius, beside him, suddenly bellowed out a legionary marching song: a relic of long ago, Rome defiantly rising up in the vastness of Sinae.
Picking up the rear trotted the squadron of cavalry, for the occasion fully mailed and with gaudy pennons a-fly. These were following behind to keep watch on the whole line such that if any point was threatened they could gallop up to be on the scene without delay.
The poorer shacks petered out and the road wound through near identical flat fields.
One by one the songsters fell silent until there was nothing but the slithery jingle of harness and soft clop of hoofs, the creaking of wheels and occasional animal snort, a hypnotic backdrop to their slow but inexorable progress.
Nicander took in the passing scene. The landscape seemed unchanging but he soon found that this was an illusion: at their deliberate walking pace the roadside passed by in an unchanging rhythm and the outer perspectives remained solid and unmoving. However, after an hour’s placid motion distant features had subtly changed their shape, had revealed more of one side.
Of course, this is how it must be – great distances eaten up only by steady and continuous travel. Each new day they would press on in an achievement of endurance that eventually would see all of a thousand miles pass by.
A horse cantered down the line. It was the caravan master who reined in when he saw Nicander.
‘How’s your lady?’ he demanded.
Irritation boiled up in Nicander at the thought of the Ice Queen in her carriage telling her lady-in-waiting to take issue with them for their conditions. ‘How should I know – why don’t you ask her yourself?’
The man’s face tightened. ‘Don’t come it the fool with me, Ni sheng! I could make it hard for you before the trip’s done.’
Nicander regretted his outburst. Su was probably under a lot of strain at the outset of a major transit and a moaning female was not what was wanted at this stage.
‘She hasn’t complained to me, Su sheng.’
The face eased. ‘Good. Let me know if…’
Nicander nodded, resolving not to let the woman get to him again.
The sun dipped in the sky, cooling the air. Shadows lengthened, evening crickets began their chorus.
Idly Nicander wondered how they would spend their first night. The country was fully under cultivation, the intensive kind peculiar to China where fields ran close to the next with only a narrow path separating them. Where were five hundred camels going to fit?