Xuan was given a stipend each month for clothes and living expenses. He had servants to tend him and his rooms were always well furnished, though he was rarely allowed to stay in one place for more than a year. He had even been allowed to live with his children after the death of his wife, though he had discovered that was a mixed blessing at best. Yet he knew nothing of the outside world, or the politics of the Sung court. He lived in almost complete isolation.
Liao-Jin came out of the lake, dripping water from his lean body. His chest was bare and finely muscled, with his lower half covered in belted linen trousers that clung to him. The young man’s skin roughened in the breeze as he shivered and shook his long black hair. He towelled himself dry with brisk efficiency, looking over at his father and resuming his habitual scowl. At twenty, he was the oldest of the children, one of three Xuan had brought across the Sung border so many years before. The last, now a girl of twelve, had been born knowing no other way of life. Xuan smiled at her as she waved to him from the water. He was a doting father to his girls in a way that he found difficult with his two sons.
Liao-Jin pulled a simple shift over his head and tied his hair back. He could have been a young fisherman, without any sign of rank or wealth. Xuan watched him, wondering what sort of mood he would be in after the swim. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his son walk up the small pebbly beach towards him. Sometimes, he could hardly recall the bright, cheerful boy Liao-Jin had once been. Xuan could still remember when his son had truly understood their situation for the first time. There had been tears and rages and sulky silences almost ever since. Xuan never knew what to expect from him.
Liao-Jin sat on the pebbles and pulled his knees up, clasping his hands around them to keep warm.
‘Did you write to the prefect, as you said you would?’ he asked suddenly.
Xuan closed his eyes for a moment, weary of the conversation even before it had begun.
‘I did not say I would. He has not answered me for a long time.’
Liao-Jin’s mouth twisted unpleasantly.
‘Well, why would he? What
The young man gripped a handful of pebbles and threw them into the water in a jerky motion. One of his sisters yelped, though she had not been hit. When she saw who had thrown the stones, she shook her head in admonishment and waded out deeper.
When Liao-Jin spoke again, the tone was almost a whine.
‘You know, there is no law to prevent me joining the Sung army, father. Whatever they think of you, I could rise. In time, perhaps I could have a house of my own. I could take a wife.’
‘I would like that for you,’ Xuan agreed distantly.
‘Would you? You haven’t written to the one man who might agree. You have done
‘She is not,’ Xuan said, his own voice hardening to match his son’s. ‘And there is nothing I can do until this prefect moves on to another post, or dies. I do not believe he even reads my letters any longer. He has not replied to one for eight, no ten years!’ His mood was spoiled, the peace of the day gone under his son’s fierce glare.
‘I would rather be in prison than here with you,’ Liao-Jin hissed at him. ‘At least there, I might dream of being released. Here, I have no hope at all. Shall I grow old? Do you expect me to tend you when your mind is gone and I am wrinkled and useless? I won’t. I’ll walk into the lake first, or put a rope around my neck. Or yours, father. Perhaps then they would let me walk away from my captivity.’
‘There are servants to tend me, if I grow ill,’ Xuan said weakly.
He hated to hear the bitterness in his son, but he understood it well enough. He had felt the same for a long time; part of him still did. Liao-Jin was like a stick stirring the muddy depths of his soul and he resisted, pulling away physically and coming to his feet rather than listen to any more. He raised his head to call his other children and paused. The distant towers of Hangzhou could be seen around them, the lake a creation of some ancient dynasty more than a thousand years before. On the rare days he was allowed there, he was rarely bothered by anyone, yet he saw a troop of cavalry trotting down from the road onto the shores of the lake. As he watched in vague interest, they turned in his direction. Xuan came to himself with a start.
‘Out of the water, all of you,’ he called. ‘Quickly now, there are men coming.’
His daughters squawked and Liao-Jin’s brother Chiun came out at a rush, spattering droplets onto the dry stones. The riders rode around the curving shore and Xuan became more and more certain they were coming for him. He could not help the spasm of fear that touched his heart. Even Liao-Jin had fallen silent, his face set in stern lines. It was not impossible that the soldiers had been told to make them disappear at last and both of them knew it.
‘Did you write to anyone on your own?’ Xuan asked his son, without looking away from the strangers riding in. Liao-Jin hesitated long enough for him to know he had. Xuan cursed softly to himself.
‘I hope you have not drawn the attention of someone who might wish ill on us, Liao-Jin. We have never been among friends.’
The soldiers drew to a halt just twenty paces from the shivering girls as they moved back to stand close to their father and brothers. Xuan hid his fear as the officer dismounted, a short stocky figure with grey hair and a wide, almost square face that was ruddy with health. The man flicked his reins over his horse’s head and strode to the small group watching him.
Xuan noted the small lion symbol etched into the officer’s scaled armour as he bowed. He did not know every rank of the Sung military, but he knew the man had proven himself as an archer and swordsman, as well as passing an exam on tactics in one of the city barracks.
‘This humble soldier is Hong Tsaio-Wen,’ the man said. ‘I have orders to escort his majesty Xuan, Son of Heaven, to the Leopard barracks to be fitted with armour.’
‘What? What is this?’ Xuan demanded incredulously.
Tsaio-Wen stared at him with unblinking eyes. ‘His majesty’s men have been assembled there,’ he replied, stiff with the formal idiom that would not allow him to address Xuan directly. ‘His majesty will want to join them there.’ He raised an arm to gesture to his men and Xuan saw they had brought a spare horse, saddled and waiting. ‘His majesty will desire to come with me now.’
Xuan felt ice touch his heart and he wondered if the moment had come when the Sung emperor had finally tired of his existence. It was possible that he would be taken to a place of execution and quietly made to vanish. He knew better than to argue. Xuan had known many Sung soldiers and officials in the sixteen years of his captivity. If he demanded reasons or explanation, Tsaio-Wen would simply repeat his orders with placid indifference, never less than polite. Xuan had grown used to the stone walls of Sung manners.
To his surprise, it was his son who spoke.
‘I would like to come with you, father,’ Liao-Jin said softly.
Xuan winced. If this was an order for his execution, his son’s presence would only mean one more body at sunset. He shook his head, hoping it was answer enough. Instead, Liao-Jin stepped around to face him.
‘They have allowed your men to assemble, after how long? This is important, father. Let me come with you, whatever it turns out to be.’
The Sung officer could have been made of stone as he stood there, giving Xuan no sign he had even heard. Despite himself, Xuan looked past his son and spoke.
‘Why am I needed now, after so long?’
The soldier remained silent, his eyes like black glass. Yet there was no aggression in his stance. It had been a long time since Xuan had judged the mood of fighting men, but he sensed no violence from the rest of the small troop. He made his decision.
‘Liao-Jin, I commission you as yinzhan junior officer. I will explain your duties and responsibilities at a later time.’
His son flushed with pleasure and he went down on one knee, bowing his head. Xuan rested his hand on the back of his son’s neck for a moment. Years before, he might have resisted any sign of affection, but he did not care if some honourless Sung soldiers saw it.
‘We are ready,’ Xuan said to Tsaio-Wen.
The officer shook his head slightly before speaking.
‘I have only one spare horse and orders to bring his majesty to the barracks. I have no orders about any other.’
