No, he thought. We haven't learned. We have been unwise. And now our own Long March is fast approaching. The bright days of ease—of unopposed rule—lie in our past. Ahead lies only darkness.
The old man sighed again, then straightened, feeling the imaginary cold in his bones. Chung Kuo. Would it survive the coming times? Would a son of his look down, as he looked now, and see a world at peace? Or was Change to come again, like a serpent, blighting all?
Li Shai Tung turned, then stopped, listening. It came again. An urgent pounding on the outer doors. He made his way through and stood before them.
"Who is it?"
"Chieh Hsia! Forgive me. It is 1, Chung Hu-Yan."
Coming so hard upon his thoughts, the tone of panic in his Chancellor's voice alarmed him. He threw the doors open.
Chung Hu-Yan stood there, his head bowed low, his mauve sleeping gown pulled tightly about his tall, thin frame. His hair was unbraided and uncombed. It was clear he had come straight from his bed, not stopping to prepare himself.
"What is it, Chung?"
Chung fell to his knees. "It is Lin Yua, Chieh Hsia. It seems she has begun. ..."
"Begun?" Instinct made him control his voice, his face, his breathing, but, inside, his heart hammered and his stomach dropped away. Lin Yua, his first wife, was only six months into her pregnancy. How could she have begun? He took a sharp breath, willing himself to be calm.
"Quick, Chung. Take me to her at once."
The doctors looked up from the bedside as he entered, then bowed low and backed hastily away. But a glance at the fear in their eyes told him at once more than he wanted to know.'
He looked beyond them, to her bed. "Lin Yua!"
He ran across the room to her, then stopped, his fear transformed into an icy certainty.
"Gods . , ." he said softly, his voice breaking. "Kuan Yin preserve us!"
She lay there, her face pale as the harvest moon, her eyes closed, a blue tinge to her lips and cheeks. The sheets were rucked up beneath her naked legs, as if from some titanic strug-
gle, their whiteness stained almost black with her blood. Her arms lay limply at her sides.
He threw himself down beside her, cradling her to him, sobbing uncontrollably, all thought of sovereign dignity gone from him. She was still warm. Horribly, deceptively warm. He turned her face and kissed it, time and again, as if kissing would bring the life back to it, then began to talk to her, his voice pleading with her.
"Lin Yua.. . Lin Yua.... My little peach. My darling little one. Where are you, Lin Yua? The gods help us, where are you?"
He willed her eyes to open. To smile and say that this was all a game—a test to see how much he loved her. But it was no game. Her eyes stayed closed, their lids impenetrably white; her mouth devoid of breath. And then, at last, he knew.
Gently he laid her head against the pillow, then, with his fingers, combed her hair back lovingly from her brow. Shivering, he sat back from her, looking up at his Chancellor, his voice hollow with disbelief.
"She's dead, Hu-Yan. My little peach is dead."
"ChiehHsia.. . ." The Chancellor's voice quivered with emotion. For once he did not know what to do, what to say. She had been such a strong woman. So filled with life. For her to die ... No. It was an impossibility. He stared back at the T'ang, his own eyes filled with tears, and mutely shook his head.
There was movement behind him. Chung turned and looked. It was a nurse.. She held a tiny bundle. Something still and silent. He stared at her, appalled, and shook his head violently.
"No, Excellency," the woman began, bowing her head re-, spectfully. "You misunderstand. . . ."
Chung Hu-Yan glanced fearfully at the Tang. Li Shai Tung had turned away; was staring down at his dead wife once again. Knowing he must do something, Chung turned and grabbed the woman's arm. Only then did he see that the child was alive within the blankets.
"It lives?" His whisper held a trace of disbelief.
"He lives, Excellency. It's a boy."
Chung Hu-Yan gave a short laugh of surprise. "Lin Yua gave birth to a boy?"
"Yes, Excellency. Four catties he weighs. Big for one born so early."
Chung Hu-Yan stared at the tiny child, then turned and looked back at the T'ang. Li Shai Tung had not noted the woman's entrance. Chung licked his lips, considering things, then decided.
"Go," he told the nurse. "And make sure the child is safe. Your life is forfeit if he dies. Understand me, woman?"
The woman swallowed fearfully, then bowed her head low. "I understand, Excellency. I'll take good care of him."
Chung turned back, then wentiand stood beside the T'ang.
"Cbieh Hsia?" he said, kneeling, bowing his head.
Li Shai Tung looked up, his eyes bleak, unfocused, his face almost unrecognizable in its grief.
"Chieh Hsia, I—"
Abruptly the Tang stood and pushed roughly past his Chancellor, ignoring him, confronting instead the group of five doctors who were still waiting on the far side of the room.
"Why was I not summoned earlier?"
The most senior of them stepped forward, bowing. "It was felt, Chieh Hsia—"
"Fefe?" The T'ang's bark of anger took the old man by surprise. Pain and anger had transformed Li Shai Tung. His face glowered. Then he leaned forward and took the man forcibly by the shoulder, throwing him backward.
He stood over him threateningly. "How did she die?"
The old man glanced up fearfully from where he lay, then scrambled to his knees again, lowering his head abjectly. "It was her age, Chieh Hsia," he gasped. "Forty-two is late to have a child. And then there are the conditions here. They make it dangerous even for a normal labor. Back on Chung Kuo—"
"You incompetent butchers! You murderers! You . . ."
Li Shai Tung's voice failed. He turned and looked back helplessly at his dead wife, his hands trembling, his lips parted in surprise. For a moment longer he stood there, lost in his pain; then, with a shudder, he turned back, his face suddenly set, controlled.
"Take them away from here, Chung Hu-Yan," he said coldly,
his eyes filled with loathing. "Take them away and have them killed."
"Chieh Hsia?" The Chancellor stared at him, astonished. Grief had transformed his master.
The T'ang's voice rose in a roar. "You heard me, Master Chung! Take them away!"
The man at his feet began to plead. "Chieh Hsia.' Surely we might be permitted—"
He glared at the old man, silencing him, then looked up again. Across from him the others, graybeards all, had fallen to their knees in supplication. Now, unexpectedly, Chung Hu-Yan joined them.
"Chieh Hsia, I beg you to listen. If you have these men killed, the lives of all their kin will be forfeit too. Let them choose an honorable death. Blame them for Lin Yua's death, yes, but let their families live."
Li Shai Tung gave a visible shudder. His voice was soft now, laced with pain. "But they killed my wife, Chung. They let Lin Yuadie."
Chung touched his head to the floor. "I know, Chieh Hsia. And for that they will be only too glad to die. But spare their families, I beg you, Chieh Hsia. You owe them that much. After all, they saved your son."
"My son?" The T'ang looked up, surprised.
"Yes, Chieh Hsia. You have a son. A second son. A strong, healthy child."
Li Shai Tung stood there, frowning fiercely, trying hard to take in this latest, unexpected piece of news. Then, very slowly, his face changed yet again, the pain pushing through his mask of control until it cracked and fell away and he stood there, sobbing bitterly, his teeth clenched in anguish, tears running down his face.
"Go," he said finally in a small voice, turning away from them in a gesture of dismissal. "Order it as you will, Chung. But go. I must be alone with her now."