‘Zarina’s going?’
‘I couldn’t stop her!’
‘Then as she’s a lady, so there’ll be company for her.’
Nicander was not proud of the fact that there was also another motive behind the request: as they were a party invited together Ying Mei could hardly refuse to pay for their share – one worry disposed of.
Dunhuang throbbed with life. A caravan of colourful strangers with money to burn, fashion goods from China to buy, the latest gossip from Chang An and travellers to entertain were irresistible.
The brightly lit streets were full with peoples from every remote corner of Asia in all kinds of outlandish dress. Korkut’s little band made their way through and soon arrived at the inn.
From the upper-storey balcony, girls with elaborate coiffures threw them kisses. They passed inside to a roar of noise, candlelight picking out gold-leafed carvings, scarlet furniture, intricate tapestries – and the eyes of the revellers.
Korkut took them to stairs at the rear. The upper floor turned out to be even more extravagantly furnished. They were shown to an elaborately lacquered table close by an open space.
A voluptuously dressed girl bowed with a dazzling smile. ‘Good evening! I’m Mei Ling, mistress of the table, you are our honoured guests.’
They sat on low benches, Korkut and his wife in the centre with Ying Mei opposite. Tai Yi eased herself between Nicander and her mistress. Marius sat next to Korkut.
Waiters arrived with trays of delicacies. ‘Wine!’ ordered Korkut. ‘The best!’
It came in a silver-chased jug worked with flying camels with wings, and was silky smooth, slipping down rapidly after the stern discipline of the desert.
‘Not so fast!’ Korkut ordered.
‘We’re here as guests in Dunhuang. We must follow their customs. So – will you drink my health, or will I drink yours, Ma sheng?’ He made a fist. ‘You see this?’ Two fingers came out. ‘Now you – any number.’
Three fingers came out of Marius’s big hand.
‘So the total is five. Now to make it interesting, at just the same time we throw, we shout out what we think will be the correct number. Ready?’
Marius caught on quickly to the drinking game but it was Korkut who first scored.
‘Your very good health, sir!’ Marius grinned and toasted him Roman fashion, moving his arm wide across his chest.
Nicander joined in and after losing twice in succession, a pleasant fuddle settled in.
The promised feast arrived. Pigeon’s eggs, a fish in bamboo root, tripe in spicy noodles, the dishes kept coming.
He eased forward to catch a glimpse of Ying Mei. She was talking gravely to Zarina but appeared to be having a good time, even if her poise was as unbending as ever.
There was movement at another table where caravan master Su sat. He wore a deep-blue silk top jacket with distinctive yellow patterns woven into it and leg-hugging red trousers which were tucked into calf-length brocaded boots. And on his head was a black conical cap cheekily tilted forward.
His guests were two girls in as colourful a dress as he and both were in paroxysms of laughter.
‘Bloody Sogdians!’ Korkut spluttered. ‘Can’t keep away from ’em.’
To one side a flute began an exploratory trill. It was from a trio which included knee drums and lute.
‘Ha! This is why we came, m’ friends. Only thing the Sogs are good for.’
Two serving girls scurried out with a crimson and green rug which they threw over the reed-matting floor. An expectant hush fell.
The flute then joined with the pipa lute in a soft, lingering melody, hinting at mystery and allure.
Even through his alcoholic haze Nicander was caught up in the atmosphere. Mere yards away in the darkness huge silent dunes were stretching away to infinity, while here they were, cheating the wilderness demons in a celebration of their victory over the desert.
In a flash of movement a dancer appeared in a bare-shouldered silk blouse and a long, filmy gauze skirt over loose green trousers. She stepped forward daintily, her tiny jewelled slippers pointing and tapping in deliberate movements until she reached the centre of the rug where she took up a provocative pose.
Then the drums spoke with a soft but insistent beat underlying the music, steadily increasing in power until the dancer sprang to life. She threw out her arms and twirled about, setting off tiny bells on her arms and ankles, beginning a dance of sensuous whirling as the drums deepened and became more demanding in their rhythm.
At each turn she fixed her eyes on a different man who shouted encouragement until the room rang with whoops and calls.
Nicander’s attention was diverted by a sudden movement. ‘Come, My Lady, this is no fit place for a well-born!’
Tai Yi stood, her face tight. Ying Mei hesitated, an unreadable emotion passing across her face, then she rose and left.
The dance tightened, the turns became more abandoned, the drums deafening.
For Nicander the wine was having its effect but he was as much intoxicated with the sensual impact of the exotic scene. This was the reality now – not the desert, not the Imperial Palace, not the domes and columns of Constantinople, now but a faded dream.
The drums built to a furious climax, then without warning the dancer ran to Korkut’s table. With a deft movement at her blouse she thrust her bare breasts to Marius.
There was a roar of appreciation as the legionary huskily acknowledged her. She held her pose, then turned and left.
‘Don’t worry, there’ll be others on,’ chuckled Korkut, his hand busy inside Zarina’s bodice.
More wine came.
In his detached state Nicander saw Marius furtively show Korkut something.
‘An Imperial silver sycee! Where did you get this?’ the merchant demanded loudly.
Seeing Marius scrabble in vain for an explanation, Nicander leant over drunkenly. ‘It’s for doing a magical healing on the Emperor’s daughter,’ he burbled.
‘Yes, that’s right. So can you split it up, like. Coin or whatever?’
‘For you? I think we can do something.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Nicander acknowledged his friend with a smile. ‘Been wondering when you’d get back.’ It was well into the morning and he’d been able to sleep off the effects of the previous evening enough to take in the day.
Marius grinned, then flopped down on his bed. ‘Hard work – the woman didn’t know a word of any civilised lingo.’
‘You’ve missed the excitement.’
‘Have I now?’
‘The caravan may be delayed.’
‘What a pity.’ The big man stretched lazily.
‘Seems the Tibetans are coming down from the mountains and causing grief between here and Khotan.’
‘How long?’ The eyes were closed, the speech slurred.
‘They’re sending a scouting party ahead to find when we can move out. Long enough, I would have thought, for you to spend all the Emperor’s silver – and half that’s mine, I’ll remind you.’
‘I’ll pass her across at the right time, don’t worry.’
About to give a hot retort, Nicander saw the cheeky grin. ‘Korkut says there’s some famous caves close by. Feel like stretching the legs?’
‘Not now, I’ve got some kip to catch up on. Have fun.’
Nicander demanded some coins and left him to it.
It was hot so he hired a donkey as the distance to the caves was considerable, the path winding between dunes and craggy passes for a dozen miles or more.
He went in company with five monks headed there on pilgrimage. They chattered in a barbarous dialect, completely incomprehensible to Nicander.
Left to his own thoughts he allowed it not impossible that he and Marius would make it through after all. The caravan was well organised, no doubt Su would be able to pay off the Tibetans to let them pass and then it was the lengthy journey to the mountains. There would bound to be some at that place who could tell them the direction to take next.
At least the Ice Queen was talking to him now. Never had he been completely ignored before like that. It had rankled more than it should have, the way she looked down on him.