The Mandate of Heaven by Tim Murgatroyd Read Free Book Online

with a gasp and peered over.
    An ill-assorted band of soldiers, the Salt Minister’s bodyguards, drilled in the front courtyard of Yun Shu’s house. Their numbers had doubled in response to attacks against the Great Khan’s officials by Red Turban rebels.
    Teng examined the burly men stabbing imaginary foes. At the end of the line stood a diminutive warrior: Hsiung.
    Twisting a spear to murder air, his former playmate screamed Hai! Hai-eee! Ha! Somehow Hsiung glimpsed Teng’s head bobbing over the boundary wall. The young warrior hesitated, perhaps because Deng Nan-shi had impressed upon the two boys that no decent man willingly becomes a soldier, before shouting more loudly than ever, Hai! Hai-eee! Ha!
    Teng withdrew and climbed down into the lane.
    There, aimlessly plucking handfuls of grass from the verge, he listened to Sergeant P’ao shouting. It was weeks since he and Hsiung had explored their favourite haunts together. His old companion had grown indifferent to all they once shared. Whenever his duties at Deng Mansions allowed – and often when they didn’t – Hsiung skipped away to join Salt Minister Gui’s bodyguards, who had adopted him as a blend of mascot, slave and butt of their jokes.
    Teng trailed home to his study with its worn table and stool, cheap ink cake and writing materials. There he read a woodcut printed volume of poems from Father’s library. One in particular, The Lotus , seemed so fine that he copied it in a flowing cursive style for display on his study wall.
    Engrossed by this work, Teng didn’t notice Deng Nan-shi’s presence until he was peering over his shoulder. The boy lowered his brush and bowed.
    ‘Ah,’ said Deng Nan-shi, ‘ The Lotus ! I’m glad you found it out for yourself.’
    Teng blushed at such rare praise.
    ‘Do you know the poet’s name?’ asked Deng Nan-shi.
    ‘Yun Cai,’ replied Teng, indicating the front page of the book.
    ‘Yes, Yun . Does it not strike you as strange he shares his surname with our courteous neighbour’s daughter?’
    Teng shrugged. He grew uneasy whenever he thought about Yun Shu. Lady Lu Si had heard from one of her friends in Cloud Abode Monastery that Yun Shu was kept prisoner in a room with barred windows.
    ‘The world is full of Yuns,’ he muttered, ‘as the sky is full of clouds.’
    The hunchbacked scholar nodded.
    ‘Perhaps finding The Lotus is a sign,’ he said. ‘Come with me, Teng, there is somewhere I must show you.’

    He led his son through courtyards and corridors, emerging at the rear of the compound, where a faithful model of Holy Mount Chang, tall as two men, had been sculpted from rocks and earth. On its summit stood a small moon-gazing pavilion with a high domed roof resting on six carved pillars.
    Deng Nan-shi climbed the model mountain, seating himself on a marble bench in the centre of the pavilion. Vines, creepers and moss covered the structure. Teng crouched at his feet, looking out at the lake.
    ‘It is twenty-eight years since I last set foot here,’ said Deng Nan-shi.
    Teng waited. Father bent forward, his eyes closed as though in meditation. Finally he sat upright.
    ‘Our family,’ said Deng Nan-shi, ‘has been the foremost in this province since the advent of the Song Dynasty, three centuries ago.’
    All this Teng knew. It seemed all he had ever been allowed to know.
    ‘You have heard of our ancestor General Yueh Fei,’ continued Deng Nan-shi, ‘a great hero and saviour of the Empire against the Kin barbarians, betrayed by cowards, pragmatists, traitors. Yet before his execution, Yueh Fei granted a mountain estate to an unknown infantry officer with the surname Yun . I know this because I found a document in our library. It states Officer Yun saved General Yueh Fei at the Battle of T’su Hu Pass, and so earned his reward.’
    A ragged vee of honking geese flew overhead toward the lake; both watched silently.
    ‘Officer Yun had a famous son, a brilliant son, a great poet. The author of that