BAF 64 - Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat, page 2
part #64 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
“It is better to come empty-handed than to be the bearer of ill news,” answered the sombre woodman, “but since you lay the burden on my head, it is necessary that you should turn your impatient feet aside to ascend yonder slight incline,” and he pointed to a rocky crag that rose above the trees. “From this height, minstrel, now bend your discriminating gaze a few li to the west and then declare what there attracts your notice.”
“That is the direction in which my meagre hut is placed,” admitted Kai Lung, after he had searched the distance long and anxiously, “but, although the landmarks are familiar, that which I most look for eludes my mediocre eyes. It must be that the setting sun—”
“Even a magician cannot see the thing that is not there,” replied Shen Hing meaningly. “Doubtless your nimble-witted mind will now be suitably arranged for what is to follow.”
“Say on,” adjured Kai Lung, taking a firmer hold upon the inner fibre of his self-control. “If it should be more than an ordinary person can reasonably bear, I call upon the shades of all my virtuous ancestors to rally to my aid.” “Had but one of them put in an appearance a week ago, it might have served you better, for, as it is truly written, ‘A single humble friend with rice when you are hungry is better than fifteen influential kinsmen coming to a feast,’” retorted Shen Hing. “Hear my lamentable word, however. It has for some time been rumoured that the banners of insurrection were being trimmed and the spears of revolt made ready.”
“There was a whisper trickling through the land when I set forth,” murmured Kai Lung. “But in this sequestered region, surely—”
“The trickle meanwhile grew into a swiftly moving stream, although the torrent seemed as though it would spare our peaceful valley. Like a faint echo from some far-off contest we heard that the standard of the Avenging Knife had been definitely raised and all men were being pressed into this scale or that of the contending causes…High among the rebel council stood one who had, it is said, suffered an indignity at your requiting hand in the days gone by—Ming-shu his forbidding name.”
“Ming-shu!” exclaimed Kai Lung, falling back a step before the ill-omened menace of that malignant shadow. “Can it be that the enmity of the inscriber of the Mandarin’s spoken word has pursued me to this retreat?”
“It is, then, even as men told,” declared Shen Hing, with no attempt to forego an overhanging bitterness, “and you, Kai Lung, whom we received in friendship, have brought this disaster to our doors. Could demons have done more?”
“Speak freely,” invoked Kai Lung, averting his face, “and do not seek to spare this one’s excessive self-reproach. What next occurred?”
“We of our settlement are a peaceful race, neither vainglorious nor trained to the use of arms, and the opposing camps of warriors had so far passed us by, going either on the Eastern or the Western Route and none turning aside. But in a misbegotten moment Ming-shu fell under a deep depression while in his tent at no great space away, and one newly of his band, thinking to disclose a fount of gladness, spoke of your admitted capacity as a narrator of imagined tales, with a special reference to the serviceable way in which the aptitude had extricated you from a variety of unpleasant transactions in the past.”
“That would undoubtedly refresh the wells of Ming-shu’s memory,” remarked Kai Lung. “How did he testify the fullness of his joy?”
“It is related that, when those who stood outside heard the grinding of his ill-assorted teeth, the rumour spread that the river banks were giving way. At a later period the clay-souled outlaw was seen to rub his offensive hands pleasurably together and heard to remark that there is undoubtedly a celestial influence that moulds our ultimate destinies even though we ourselves may appear to trim the edges somewhat. He then directed a chosen company of his repulsive guard to surprise and surround our dwellings and to bring you a bound captive to his feet.”
“Alas!” exclaimed Kai Lung. “It would have been more in keeping with the classical tradition that they should have taken me, rather than that others must suffer in my stead.”
“There can be no two opinions on that score,” replied the scrupulous Shen Hing, “but a literary aphorism makes a poor defense against a suddenly propelled battle-axe, and before mutual politeness was restored a score of our tribe had succumbed to the force of the opposing argument. Then, on the plea that a sincere reconciliation demanded the interchange of gifts, they took whatever we possessed, beat us heavily about the head and body with clubs in return, and departed, after cutting down your orchard and setting fire to your very inflammably constructed hut, in order, as their leader courteously expressed it, ’to lighten the path of your return.’”
“But she—Hwa-mei,” urged Kai Lung thickly. “Speak to a point now that the moment must be faced—the cord is at my heart”
“In that you are well matched, for another was about her neck when she went forth,” replied Shen Hing concisely. “Thus Ming-shu may be said to possess a double hold upon your destiny.”
“And thereafter? She-?”
“Why, as to that, the outlook is obscure. But a brigand with whom I conversed—albeit one-sidedly, he standing upon this person’s prostrate form meanwhile—boasted of the expilot. Hwa-mei would seem to be a lure by which it is hoped to attract some high official’s shifting allegiance to the rebel cause, she having held a certain sway upon him in the past.”
“The Mandarin Shan Tien—now a provincial governor!” exclaimed Kai Lung. “Thus our ancient strife asserts itself again, though the angles ever change. But she lives—at least that is assured.”
“She lives,” agreed Shen Hing dispassionately, “but so likewise does Ming-shu. If he was your avowed enemy, minstrel, you did wrong to spare him in the past, for, ‘If you leave the stricken bull his horns, he will yet contrive to gore you.’”
“It is no less written, ’The malice of the unworthy is more to be prized than an illuminated vellum,’” replied Kai Lung. “Furthermore, the ultimate account has not yet been cast. In which direction did Ming-shu’s force proceed, and how long are they gone?”
“One who overlooked their camp spoke of them as marching to the west, and for three days now have we been free of their corroding presence. That being so, the more valiant among us are venturing down from about the treetops, and to-morrow life will begin afresh, doubtless as before. Have no fear therefore, story-teller; Ming-shu will not return.”
“It is on that very issue that I am troubled,” was Kai Lung’s doubtful answer. “Ming-shu may still return.”
“Then at least do not show it, for we are all in the same plight,” urged the woodman. ’To-morrow we assemble to repair the broken walls and fences, so that in the association of our numbers you may gain assurance.”
“The spirit you display is admittedly contagious,” agreed Kai Lung. “In the meanwhile, I will seek my devastated ruin to see if haply anything remains. There was a trivial store of some few bars of silver hidden about the roof. Should that hope fail, I am no worse off than he who possesses nothing.”
“I will accompany and sustain you, neighbour,” declared Shen Hing more cheerfully. “In sudden fortune, whether good or bad, men become as brothers.”
“Do so if you feel that you must,” replied Kai Lung, “though I would rather be alone. But, in any case, I will do the actual searching—it would be the reverse of hospitable to set you to a task.”
When they reached the ruin of his once befitting home, Kai Lung could not forbear an emotion of despair, but he indicated to Shen Hing how that one should stand a reasonable distance away while he himself sought among the ashes.
“A steady five cash a day is better than the prospect of a fortune.” Shen Hing busied himself looking for earth-nuts, but in spite of the apt proverb his sombre look returned.
“Even this slender chance has faded,” reported Kai Lung at length, approaching Shen Hing again. “Nothing remains, and I must now adventure forth on an untried way with necessity alone to be my guide. Farewell, compassionate Shen Hing.”
“But what new vagary is here?” exclaimed Shen Hing, desisting from his search. “Is it not your purpose to join in the toil of restoring our settlement, when we, in turn, will support you in the speedy raising of your fallen roof?”
“There is a greater need that calls me, and every day Hwa-mei turns her expectant eyes toward the path of rescue,” replied Kai Lung.
“Hwa-mei! But she is surrounded by a rebel guard in Ming-shu’s camp, a hundred li or more away by now. Consider well, story-teller. It is very easy on an unknown road to put your foot into a trap or your head into a noose, but by patient industry one can safely earn enough to replace a wife with a few successful harvests.”
“When this one lay captive in Ming-shu’s power, she whom you would so readily forsake did not weigh the hazards of snare or rope with an appraising eye, but came hastening forward, offering life itself in two outstretched hands. Would a dog do less than follow now?”
“That is as it may be, and I have certainly heard some account of the affair at various times,” replied Shen Hing craftily, for he well knew that Kai Lung’s reciting voice would lighten the task of each succeeding day. “But even a beggar will not cross a shaking bridge by night, and how are you, who have neither gold wherewith to purchase justice nor force by which to compel it, to outdo the truculent Ming-shu, armed at every point?”
“I have sandals for my feet, a well-tried staff between my hands, a story on my lips, and the divine assurance that integrity will in the end prevail,” was Kai Lung’s modest boast. “What, therefore, can I lack?”
“‘In the end’?” repeated Shen Hing darkly. “Admittedly. But an ordinary person inclines to something less ambitious provided it can be relied upon more toward the middle. You are one who is prone to resort to analogies and signs, Kai Lung, to guide you in the emergencies of life. How can you then justify a journey entered upon so suddenly and without reference to the omens?”
“He who moves toward the light has no need of the glow of joss-sticks,” replied Kai Lung, indicating the brightness that still lingered in the sky. “The portent will not fail.”
“It is certainly a point to be noted,” confessed Shen Hing, “and I cannot altogether expect to dissuade you in the circumstances. But do not overlook the fact that the sun has already set and nothing but dark and forbidding clouds now fill the heavens.”
“We can only see the clouds, but the clouds can see • the sun,” was the confident reply. “Success is a matter of luck, but every man obeys his destiny.”
With this inspired pronouncement, Kai Lung turned his back upon the ruin of his unassuming home and set out again, alone and destitute, upon an unknown path. Shen Hing pressed into his sleeve the few inferior nuts that he had laboriously collected, but he did not offer to accompany the story-teller on his way. Indeed, as soon as he was reasonably sure that he was free from interruption, the discriminating wood-cutter began to search the ashes on his own account, to see if haply there was not something of value that Kai Lung had perchance overlooked.
Chapter Two
THE DIFFICULT PROGRESSION OF THE VIRTUOUS KAI LUNG ASSUMES A CONCRETE FORM
It was Kai Lung’s habit, as he approached any spot where it seemed as though his mat might be profitably unrolled, to beat upon a small wooden drum and even to discharge an occasional firework, so that the leisurely and indulgent should have no excuse for avoiding his entertainment As darkness was fast approaching when he reached the village of Ching, it would have been prudent first of all to obtain shelter for the night and a little rice to restore his failing powers, for three days had passed since the parting from Shen Hing, and with scarcely a pause Kai Lung had pressed relentlessly on toward the west, journeying through a barren upland waste where nothing to sustain life offered beyond the roots of herbs and a scanty toll of honey. But the rocky path that he had followed was scarcely less harsh and forbidding than the faces of those to whom the story-teller now spoke of food and shelter, with an assumed payment at some future time, and however ill-fitted he felt his attributes to be, he had no alternative but to retrace his faltering steps to the deserted open space and there to spread his mat and lift up his voice in the hope of enticing together one or two who would contribute even a few brass pieces to his bowl.
When Kai Lung had beat upon his drum for as long as it was prudent and had expended the last firecracker of his slender store, he looked around so that he might estimate what profit the enterprise held out and judge therefrom what variety of story would be adequate. To his gratified surprise, he now perceived that, so far from attracting only a meagre sprinkling of the idle and necessitous, about him stood a considerable throng, and persons of even so dignified a position as an official chair-bearer and an assistant tax collector had not scrupled to draw near. At least two full strings of negotiable cash might be looked for, and Kai Lung brushed aside his hunger and fatigue as he resolved to justify so auspicious an occasion.
“It is well said,” he remarked with becoming humility, “that the more insignificant the flower the handsomer the bees that are attracted to it, and the truth of the observation is borne out by this distinguished gathering of influential noblemen all condescending to listen to the second-rate elocution of so ill-endowed a person as the one who is now speaking. Nevertheless, in order to start the matter on a satisfactory basis, attention is now drawn to this very inadequate collecting bowl. When even its lower depth is hidden beneath the impending shower of high-class currency, these deficient lips will be stimulated to recite the story of Ling Tso and the Golden Casket of the Lady Wu.”
For a few beats of time there was an impressive pause, which Kai Lung ascribed to a pleased anticipation of what was to follow, but no shower of coins ensued. Then a venerable person stood forth and raised a forbidding hand.
“Refrain from this ineptitude and tell us the thing that we have come to hear,” he remarked in an unappreciative voice. “Is it to be thought that persons of such importance as an official chair-bearer and an assistant tax collector”—here he indicated the two, who assumed expressions of appropriate severity—“would bend their weighty ears to the painted insincerity of a fictitious tale?”
“Yet wherein can offence be taken at the history of Ling Tso and the virtuous Lady Wu?” asked Kai Lung in pained surprise. “None the less, it is reasonably said that he who hires the carriage picks the road, and should another tale be indicated, this one will cheerfully endeavour to comply with the demand.”
“Alas,” exclaimed the one who had constituted himself the leader of their voices, “can obliquity go further? Why should we who are assembled to hear what relief Ang-Liang can send us in our straits be withheld in this extraneous manner? Deliver your message competently, O townsman of Ang-Liang, so that we may quickly know.”
At this reversal of his hopes and all that it foreshadowed, Kai Lung suddenly felt the cords of his restraint give way, and for a discreditable moment he covered his face with his hands, lest his anguish should appear there.
“It is very evident that an unfortunate misconception has arisen,” he said, when he had recovered his inner possession. “The one before you has journeyed from the east, nor has he any part with the township of Ang-Liang, neither does he bear with him a message.”
“Then how arises it,” demanded the foremost of the throng acrimoniously, “that you have come to this very spot, beating upon a wooden drum and bearing other signs of him whom we expect?”
“I had sought this open space thinking to earn a narrow sufficiency of the means whereby to secure food and shelter before the darkness closes in,” replied Kai Lung freely. “My discreditable calling is that of a minstrel and a relater of imagined tales, my abject name being Lung, and Kai that of my offensive father’s ill-conditioned Line. Being three days’ journey from my bankrupt home, I have nothing but my own distressing voice and the charitable indulgence of your unsullied hearts to interpose between myself and various unpleasant ways of Passing Upward. To that end I admittedly beat upon this hollow drum and discharged an occasional cracker, as my harmless custom is.”
“Were it not possible to take a lenient view of the offence by reason of your being a stranger, it is difficult to say what crime you may not have committed,” declared the spokesman with obtuse persistence. “As it is, it would be well that you should return to your own place without delay and avoid the boundaries of Ching in future. Justice may not close an eye twice in the same direction.”
“Nothing could be more agreeably expressed, and this one will not fail to profit by your broad-minded toleration,” meekly replied Kai Lung. “Yet inexperienced wayfarers have been known to wander in a circle after nightfall and so to return to the point of their departure. To avoid this humiliating transgression, the one who is now striving to get away at the earliest possible moment will restrain his ardour until daybreak. In the meanwhile, to satisfy your natural demand that he should justify the claim to be as he asserts, he will now relate the story of Wan and the Remarkable Shrub—a narrative which, while useful to ordinary persons as indicative of what may be reasonably expected in a variety of circumstances, does not impose so severe a strain upon the imagination as does the history of Ling Tso and the Golden Casket.”
“Any strain upon the imagination is capable of sympathetic adjustment,” put forward one of the circle, evidently desirous of sharing in some form of entertainment. “As regards the claim of the collecting bowl to which reference has been made—”
“Cease, witling,” interposed the leader in a tone of noencouragement. “Having been despoiled by Ming-shu’s insatiable horde, are we now to be beguiled into contributing to a strolling musician’s scarcely less voracious bowl? Understand, mountebank, that by flood,. fire, and famine, culminating in this last iniquity at the hands of a rebel band, our village is not only cashless but is already destitute of food and fuel for itself, so that we have even sent imploring messages to less deficient neighbours.”
