He looked at her, and found that he could not take his eyes away. He forgot Winter Cherry; he forgot Honeysuckle. The world, and the edges of the world moved back and behind him as though he were advancing from the audience on to a brightly lit stage, moving without his own volition, towards the woman who now stood watching him calmly, as if nothing depended on his answer.
He rubbed his eyes.
“I will take you,” he said. “I am to start with one carriage as soon as General Tung has written his instructions. You will clothe yourself in ordinary clothes, so that none shall know you. They will think that I am taking another girl with me. And hide those jade pins in your hair. I will bring you clothes, and you will wait here. When I bring the carriage past, you will run out and climb in.”
She nodded, showing no sign of relaxation from the strain of wondering if she could have her way with this youth.
He left her, fetched outer garments from the room of Honeysuckle and Clear Rain, gave them to Yang Kuei-fei and went to see to the horses.
There was the sound of horses, and of men shouting, so that the night, now less dark under a faint lightening of the Eastern sky, was less quiet also. It seemed that with the coming of these men a dawn wind stirred. A sentry challenged.
General Tung went to meet the Emperor. Behind him Han Im stood, wondering why eunuchs should now stand behind generals, and reflecting on the inversion of proper procedure which war brings in its train. The Captain of the Guard galloped towards them and drew rein in a spectacular whirl of dust in the dark.
“I have performed my duty,” he said. “His Imperial Majesty is here.” He dismounted.
Behind him the outriders came to a halt, then drew aside. More horsemen emerged from the darkness, and then a carriage drawn by two horses. The Emperor descended from the carriage and advanced towards them. Even in the glistening light of the torches which suddenly appeared in the doorway, the Emperor seemed older, more tired, as if he had shrunk within his robes. Han Im had for a moment the fancy that these robes were draped upon a skeleton. Then the Emperor spoke.
“You are the last of my people,” he said. “I have left Chang-an. The palaces of Chang-an contain but my ghost to keep my Empress company. Is it not strange that I should think of her now, I, who have not thought of her for many a day? Where is Yang Kuei-fei?”
General Tung bowed stiffly.
“All is ready for your departure to a place of further safety,” he said. “A messenger has gone on to prepare for your arrival and see to provender for the troops. He left not long ago. Your Majesty will rest for an hour or two, until dawn?”
Han Im stepped forward and kotowed. Then he stood awaiting orders.
The Emperor said: “Take me to her.”
Han Im moved into the house in front of the Emperor, opening doors.
But Wang Wei’s room was empty.
The Emperor looked wildly round him. “Where is she?” he cried.
Han Im said: “I will look for her. I left her in this room.” But when he had searched the house, finding no knowledge of Yang Kuei-fei’s whereabouts from the two girls or from Winter Cherry, or from a just-wakening Liu, his heart sank as he returned to the room which had been Wang Wei’s. He felt the silken cord of suicide against his neck. Outside the door of Wang Wei’s room he met General Tung, clearly awaiting news.
“You have not found her?” the General asked.
Han Im said: “No. Nobody knows where she is. I wonder . . . could she have gone with Ah Lai? You ask your men. I will go in to the Emperor. I feel my neck’s insecurity growing with every minute. All well, a man can die but once.”
“And an eunuch has less to lose by death than have common men,” the General laughed, keeping a brave face against another man’s misfortune. “I will enquire if any one saw the boy depart.”
The Emperor was pacing up and down the room. He was quieter than Han Im had expected, but seemed to hold the promise of a sudden explosion of anger. He appeared conscious of his clothes and intolerant of them, as if their formal loveliness were an affront at such a moment.
Han Im said: “It is believed that the Lady Yang went forward with the advance party, by carriage.”
The Emperor’s wrath burst. “It is believed!” he cried. “Believed! Where is she? Tell Yen to come to me.”
Han Im replied: “I regret that I am the only one of your palace eunuchs to be here.”
“Then let the others be fetched, together with a ten or so of silken cords, that they may have the doubtful privilege of death!” the Emperor cried. “And bring wine. Am I, the Son of Heaven, to stand here in a draughty, unwarmed room, pacing a wretched mat like any one of my subjects. . . .”
Han Im took his courage in both hands.
“Sire,” he observed, “the great Emperor, Tang the Completer, said: ‘