“This is Yang Kuei-fei,” Han Im said. “She has killed herself. The other is a fool girl called Winter Cherry, who thought to alter the will of the Gods. So she dressed herself in the other’s clothes. . . . Help me, quickly. We shall say that I came to kill the Lady Yang mercifully. Then do with me what you will. Only, that the Emperor may be comforted—for he would not have liked this—your men had better ride over her body thoroughly. Then the marks of the bow-string will not be seen. Good, the girl has fainted. That makes easy what before would have required words of explanation. Change their clothes.”
The two horses from which they dismounted served as a screen from the ring of horsemen. Soon Yang Kuei-fei lay on the ground in her own robe, the kingfisher hair-pins in her hair. Han Im swung Winter Cherry where the other girl’s body had been.
“When I have restored this girl to her parents,” Han Im said, “I shall be at your pleasure.” He mounted behind the unconscious girl and rode off, back towards the farm. As he rode, he thought how long it was since he had felt a horse’s saddle between his knees. He thought, too, of other things which he had not felt for a long while. Winter Cherry opened her eyes, and he patted her on the shoulder as he rode.
“Go to sleep,” he told her. “The Gods were too strong for you.”
Behind them, clearer now as the light rose, the line of men formed into two ranks, then into four. Thus, in four waves, the line moved forward stirrup to stirrup with gathering speed. Ahead of them a coloured patch lay in the grey dust. The horses in the first rank tried to avoid it, but those of the second, following closely, had no time to do so. Nor the third, nor the fourth. Then they wheeled about and cantered back over the same ground.
When Han Im reined up the horse in the courtyard, he found General Tung standing waiting for him beside the groom’s body. General Tung said amusedly: “You take my horse, you slay my groom, and then you bring back the beast in a lather. It seems to me that an explanation is possible.”
Han Im answered, as he stood Winter Cherry on her feet: “The explanation is a simple one. This girl tried to take the place of the Lady Yang, not knowing that the Lady Yang had hanged herself. I found the Lady Yang’s body, came out here and borrowed your horse. The groom tried to hinder me, and as time was precious, I took what steps you see.”
“But for a eunuch to carry a weapon,” the General protested, “is a contradiction in terms. Have I not seen that sword before?”
Han Im replied: “It was given me by Father Peng, who had overheard the conspiracy and felt that I, a younger man, was more fitted to cope with action than he. Also, I felt that your soldiers were more likely to listen to me, in their present rebellious mood, if I bore with me some form of argument.”
“And this groom, Seuen?” the General asked.
“It seems to me,” Han Im answered, “that he, the cause and centre of the conspiracy, at once its focus and excuse, could best pay by his death for the privilege of having written history. Besides, you will see from this girth, which is indisputably slack, that Seuen, whatever else he may have been, was not a good groom.”
General Tung observed: “Yet, at a time like this, all men are useful. We are short of officers. The rebels are moving towards us, and we, therefore, move on before them. I should value your cooperation, if only”—he laughed—“in return for the loss of my groom. And now, girl, you can go and tell the Emperor of the death of the Lady Yang. None of us dare do so. Tell him that we move in the time it takes to prepare his carriage.” When she had gone, he went on to Han Im: “We must find you a horse, suitable for your weight. Come.”
“You must keep the sword,” Father Peng said to Han Im, “for it will be used in the service of our Emperor, and I am too old to use it myself. You are younger: you have no distractions to take your mind from the duty of a soldier, as have ordinary men. Study of the military art demands a wholehearted attention. Women divert the minds of generals from the correct disposition of their forces, so that they become more skilled in scaling a bed than in attacking a city.
Han Im replied: “I have led a soft life. The affairs of the palace have claimed my attention: my muscles are not as hard and tireless as a soldier’s should be. And yet, when I felt my knees on the horse’s saddle this morning, when the wind past my ears sang a song of action, I was once again my younger self Perhaps with exercise and training . . .”
Father Peng nodded: “You will find no difficulty once the mind is fixed.”
Han Im answered: “I trust that you are right. The Master says: