“What you mean to say is that we’ve spent more than two weeks watching these—these Masters play out their interminable strategies, only to find ourselves right back at the beginning, neh?” “Yes, Chieh Hsia.”
The change was abrupt. One moment he was smiling, the next he was screaming, his eyes wide, spittle flying from his lips. “I want a winner! I don’t want four champions, I want one! Can’t you understand that, you dolt?”
He lowered his head, not daring to wipe the spittle from his cheeks. “It is tradition, Chieh Hsia—“ “Well, bugger tradition! You four, here, now!” The four ancients scuttled across, then prostrated themselves at Wang Sau-leyans feet.
“Good. Now listen and listen carefully. This once we do things differently. You will draw lots to see who will play who, and the winners of those two games will play each other for the honor of being my champion. Understand me?”
The four answered as one. “Yes, Chieh Hsia.” “Good.” Wang turned, walked across and sat again, a strange self-satisfied smile on his lips. “Oh . . . and one more rule. Whoever loses dies.”
li yuan was in the stables, watching the groom brush out his favorite horse and braid its mane, when Hu Ch’ang came running from the House. “Chick Hsia,” the man said breathlessly, stopping just inside the door, then knelt and touched his forehead to the dark earth of the stable floor. “Chancellor Nan bids you come quickly. Your son. . .”
“Kuei Jen?” Li Yuan frowned, his eyes suddenly wide with concern. “Why?
What has happened to him?”
“I do not know, Chieh Hsia. Only that the boy is unwell, feverish. The doctors have been summoned—“ Hu Ch’ang turned, still on his knees, as the T’ang rushed past him, then, not stopping to brush himself off, he climbed to his feet and ran after his Master.
The doctors had just arrived as Li Yuan came into his son’s bedroom. The curtains were drawn and there was the tart smell of sickness in the air. Kuei Jen’s two maids stood on the far side of the bed, looking on anxiously. Li Yuan looked to them, then gestured for the eldest, Welcome Spring, to come to him.
“What happened?” he asked, not looking at her, his eyes never leaving his son. The boy was pale, his eyes closed, his brow beaded with sweat. He moved slowly, feverishly, beneath the sheets, oblivious, it seemed, to the hands of the doctor as he examined him.
The girl knelt, her head lowered. “I—I am not sure, Chieh Hsia. Earlier he was fine. After lunch we played ball in the West Garden, but then he complained of being tired and so we brought him back indoors. He said he would have a nap. I stayed with him, on the chair just there. He slept. . . oh, for an hour or more, and then, suddenly, he sat up, groaning, holding his sides. I asked what was wrong, but before he could answer he was sick. I sent Pale Blossom to fetch Master Nan. The rest you know.” Li Yuan nodded, then made a gesture of dismissal. “Well?” he asked the doctor nearest him. “Do you know what’s wrong with him? Is it poison?” The man looked up, alarmed. “Poison, Chieh Hsia?”
“Look at him,” Li Yuan demanded. “Just look at the agony he’s in.” As if on cue the four-year-old groaned, bringing a corresponding grimace to his father’s face.
“Well? Don’t you know?”
“Forgive me, Chieh Hsia,” the second doctor answered, turning from the boy, “but a proper diagnosis will take time.” Li Yuan raised himself up, his concern for his son making him tetchy. “The gods help us! If you don’t know, say you don’t and get someone here who does!”
There was a rustling behind Li Yuan. He turned to find Nan Ho standing there, his head slightly bowed.
“Thank the gods you’re here, Master Nan. These fools know nothing. Where is my surgeon? Where is Chang Li?”
“Chieh Hsia, please . . . calm yourself. It is nothing serious. If you would come with me a moment.”
“And leave my son?”
“Chieh Hsia . . . please.”
Reluctantly he followed Nan Ho out into the corridor and into one of the tiny anterooms, then watched as his Chancellor closed the door behind him. “Well, Master Nan?”
Nan Ho scratched at his neck, as if what he was about to say were difficult, then, clearing his throat, he began. “I have made my own investigations, Chieh Hsia. They are preliminary, I confess, but I think I have managed to get to the bottom of this little episode.”
“And?” Li Yuan said impatiently.
“And Kuei Jen is ill because he ate too much at lunch, Chieh Hsia. To put it bluntly, he stuffed himself silly.”
“He what?”
“It is true, Chieh Hsia. He was warned of the consequences, but the boy cannot be told. If he does not get his own way, he throws tantrums or smashes things.”
Li Yuan laughed. “Are you serious, Master Nan?”
“I am afraid so, Chieh Hsia.”
“Then why have I not been told of this?”
“It has been . . . difficult, Chieh Hsia. The boy needs . . . discipline sometimes, and yet. . . well, you will not allow him to be punished.” “And rightly so. He is a prince, after all.” “Maybe so, Chieh Hsia, and yet you, too, were a prince, and your father never commanded that you were not to be punished. Why, I remember well the time—“ “Enough!” Li Yuan shuddered, suddenly angry. “Since when was it your place to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” “Since you appointed me your Chancellor, Chieh Hsia.” “Chancellor, maybe, but Kuei Jen is my son and I shall do as I see fit. He is a prince and one day shall be Tang.”
“All the more reason, then, for him to learn self-discipline.”
“You speak out of line, Nan Ho.”
“I speak as I find, Chieh Hsia. To do less would be to fail in my duty. I see a good boy slowly turning bad. Forgive me for saying so, Chieh Hsia, but you are overprotective toward the child. Guard him by all means, but do not make a monster of him.”
Li Yuan stood there for a long time, simply staring at his Chancellor, astonished. Then he looked down. “I—I didn’t realize. Maybe you’re right, Master Nan. Maybe . . .” He sighed. “Tell me. What would you do in my place?”
“There is a man, Chieh Hsia. His name is Lo Wen and he is a Master of Wushu, the martial arts. He is an upstanding and honorable man and would be a fine example to the boy. If I were you, I would invite him to the Palace and place him in charge of the boy. That is, if that is what you wish?”
Li Yuan sighed. “But isn’t he rather young for this? I mean, he’s not yet five.”
Nan Ho stared back at him, stern faced. “It is never too young, Chieh Hsia. Why, when you were five you had not one but five instructors, don’t you remember?”
“Only too well. I hated it.”
“Naturally. When one is too young to understand, one always hates what is good for you. And yet you came to respect your instructors, neh? In time you even made one of them your Chancellor.” Li Yuan smiled. “You have no need to remind me, Nan Ho. Even so, I still have doubts. Kuei Jen is so young. . . .” “It is for the best, Chieh Hsia. If I felt it would harm the boy I would not have mentioned it. You know that.”
“I know. . . .”Li Yuan hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “Go, then.
Arrange it.”
After Nan Ho had gone he stood there awhile, taking in what had been said. Nan Ho was his oldest friend, his closest adviser. In all the time he had known him, Master Nan had never failed to do his best by him. And so now. He alone, perhaps, could have said what needed to be said. And there was no doubt—now that his anger had passed— that it had been necessary. But how long had Master Nan known and not spoken? Just how bad had it become for him to bring this matter to a head?