Patrick O’Brian 3-Book Adventure Collection: The Road to Samarcand, The Golden Ocean, The Unknown Shore
knew it,’ said Li Han. ‘I knew it. Soothsayers were correct. Physical violence now commencing.’ He shuddered.
They travelled on for many days, holding their westward course towards the Gobi. In time they came back into cultivated agricultural land, with many fields and villages; but it was plain that an army had passed through the countryside, and that there had been fighting. There were many burnt houses on their road, and once they went through an entire village, a large village, that was no more than a smouldering heap of ashes.
The Chinese peasants had mostly fled, and those few who remained hid from them. It was difficult to get any sort of information until they came to the walled town of Chien Wu, which was untouched: they went straight to the great Buddhist monastery of Chien Wu, and there they learnt that the army of the rebel leader, Shun Chi, had marched through not long before, pillaging and burning on their way to Liao-Meng, beyond the low hills on the western horizon.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Sullivan. ‘Shun Chi is a blood-thirsty brute, with unpleasant ideas about foreigners. He strung up three French missionaries not so long ago: but that was in Fan Ling, far away to the south. He has no right to be up here at all.’
‘We had better get in touch with Hsien Lu,’ said Ross. ‘He will give us an escort through Liao-Meng and on to the Old Silk Road.’
‘Yes. That’s the thing to do. We had better go ourselves: I would not like to trust to a messenger, and there is no point in taking the whole expedition until we have got our escort. There is no telling what lies between here and the Liao Meng hills.’
In the morning they spoke of it to the Professor, pointing out that he would be quite safe behind the strong walls of Chien Wu.
‘Safe?’ said the Professor. ‘From what? Oh, yes, these bandits and so on. You are quite right, I am sure; though really I apprehend very little danger from them myself – the Chinese are a very highly civilised race. Why, only yesterday evening the abbot of this delightful monastery had a long chat with me, and he spoke most intelligently about the archaeological significance of some stelae that are to be seen in a near-by village. I am sure that there can be little danger, particularly for foreigners, who are not concerned with their political differences; but go by all means, if it will make you any easier in your minds. After all, we must take every precaution for the boy’s sake.’
‘Tell me, Professor, did you not notice the burnt-out village the other day?’
‘It was not a mere antiquarian interest,’ said the Professor, still thinking of his stelae, ‘the abbot was keenly aware of the importance of what he describes as the obvious Hellenic influence, so unexpected at such a date – but you were speaking of the village. Yes, I did notice it. Most unfortunate: most unfortunate. It was probably the effect of carelessness with matches, or the end of a cigarette. I remember a colleague of mine in St Petersburg who set fire to his waste-paper basket by carelessly throwing an unextinguished cigarette into it. The fire communicated itself to the papers on his desk and thence to his beard, which was badly singed: indeed, he was obliged to reduce it to no more than a goatee, whereas before it had reached to his waist – a great comfort, he assured me, in the Russian winter. However, these unfortunate people are no doubt being cared for by the proper authorities: perhaps there is a subscription to which we might contribute.’
‘You saw nothing else?’
‘No. I think not. Oh, you are referring to the small temple on our right. Yes, I noticed that. Was there anything of particular interest there?’
Sullivan was referring to the corpses in the village, but he said, ‘Oh well … No, I don’t think it was an important temple. But if you don’t mind, Professor, I would rather you put off going to look at your stelae until we come back with the escort.’
Ross and Sullivan left at noon, well armed and mounted: they took Hulagu and Kubilai with them, and they said that if they found the Tu-chun in his capital, as they expected, they would be back in five days with the escort.
Time passed pleasantly enough while they were away. Professor Ayrton rejoiced in the company of the abbot, who had a large and important library as well as a collection of rubbings of inscriptions from all over China. Derrick and Chingiz explored the city, which, although it was not very large, had enough in its walls to occupy them for some time; but when some tribesmen rode in from the north and Chingiz recognised a cousin among them, he was obliged to spend the greater part of the day with them, not only from the call of kin, but to hear all the latest news about the steppe, the desert and the northern provinces. So Derrick was left to his own devices: Li Han and Olaf would not let him go with them, for they had been bitten by the gambling fever, and they disappeared early each morning into one of the tea-houses near the wall, where they played fan-tan hour after hour. They said he was too young, and that anyhow he had not got enough money. ‘Besides,’ added Li Han, ‘gambling for lucre is most pernicious, debilitating, nauseous and immoral pursuit, quite unfitting for cousin of worthy and virtuous philosopher.’
The worthy and virtuous philosopher was fretting about his stelae. ‘It occurs to me,’ he said to Derrick, as he sat after breakfast in the guests’ courtyard of the monastery while a great deep gong boomed inside the temple, ‘It occurs to me, my dear boy, that your uncle will want us to push on with all speed as soon as he comes back. That will mean that I shall have no time to inspect these stelae. I should be very loth to miss them.’
‘Then why don’t we go and look at them, sir?’ said Derrick.
‘An excellent suggestion. But your uncle and Mr Ross seemed quite concerned about the possibility of danger.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there isn’t much,’ replied Derrick confidently. ‘These friends of Chingiz have all the latest news, and they say that Shun Chi’s army is retreating. It never touched the country to the north of here, and that is the direction of your village, isn’t it? But anyhow, nobody seems to know for sure which army is which, or where either of them are. Most likely both of them are miles away.’ Derrick was growing rather tired of being cooped up in Chien Wu, and he welcomed the idea of going out, even if it would only be to see archaeological remains. The Professor needed only the smallest encouragement, so before lunch they left for the village with a monk to guide them and Li Han to prepare their rice.
The ride was delightful: for mile after mile the road led through neat, intensely cultivated fields. Tall trees on either hand gave them shade, and there was enough breeze to diminish the strong heat of the sun, but not enough to raise the dust.
‘I am afraid your uncle has been over-anxious,’ said the Professor. ‘What could be more peaceful than this?’
They came to the village, and the monk led them to a small temple, built on the site of a much larger and more ancient building. He showed the Professor several great slabs of stone, some upright and some fallen, but all carved and covered with half-erased inscriptions. Professor Ayrton was entranced: he took innumerable photographs and rubbings, eagerly explaining the dismal objects to Derrick, who listened dutifully for half an hour, with as much show of interest as he could manage. Fortunately lunch came quite soon: it was perhaps the worst meal that Li Han had ever cooked, for he had been trying to hear the Professor and attend to his work at the same time. But they were hungry after their ride, and the soggy rice vanished from their bowls: by the time they were sitting in the shade and sipping their tea it was no more than an unpleasant memory. The Professor was in fine form, and Li Han listened spell-bound to his remarks on the stelae and on archaeology in general: once, as the afternoon wore on, Derrick suggested that they ought to be going back; he whispered it to Li Han, but the sea-cook turned upon him with such a venomous ‘Shshsh’ that he abandoned the idea and dozed against the wall.
They were at last preparing to return to the monastery when there was a trampling of feet, and a company of soldiers marched into the courtyard. Some were dressed in a ragged blue uniform, and some still had their peasants’ clothes upon their backs; most carried rifles of various kinds, and at their head was an officer who wore the tattered remnants of a Western uniform and carried two revolvers, as well as a sword. He stared hard at them for a moment, and then came forward to demand, in a loud, hectoring