The Emperor’s carriage and those of the few who had stood with him came, halted, then wheeled back to their places in line. Han Im mounted the horse which had been brought for him. In the now level rays of the full sun the ranks broke into ordered movement down towards the road for Chang-an.
Han Im suddenly remembered what he had forgotten. He galloped down towards Father Peng, dismounted and bowed.
“It is the Emperor’s command,” he said, “that your grandson-in-law, Keun Ah Lai, be instructed to report at the Palace tomorrow, not today.”
Father Peng bowed and replied: “It shall be as you say. The child is strong, like his father. He was feeding just before I came out.”
They bowed again to each other and Han Im rejoined his company.
As the sun rose higher and lemon came to take the place of pink, and then that lemon turned to a misty white, Father Peng saw the last of the Emperor’s force turn the corner and pass from sight.
He made the full nine-fold kotow, dusted his knees and went back through the gate.