Free Breaking Bamboo by Tim Murgatroyd

enemy were men, not immune to softer feelings. He blinked. Shook his head. The thought confused him. A traitor’s thought.
    At the appearance of the picture Father half-rose. One of the Mongols had noticed Lord Yun, and was nudging a companion to point out the ridiculous old fellow.
    Once more Chang Xi declaimed, lamenting the impossibility of his quest in a land where all are debased by corruption and greed, unmindful of their filial duties. How could he find such a girl? He stamped his feet. Glared at the crowd.
    ‘Impossible!’ he cried. Knowing glances were exchanged among the audience. The actor’s hidden message was clear, but not to the Mongols, who roared at the actor’s eloquence.
    The music resumed. Louder, wilder. Drums and clashing chimes. Flutes and strummed pi-pa . Dancers cart-wheeled onto the stage – the very same beauties who had captivated Lord Yun earlier on the street. Chang Xi marched up and down, pretending to assess each girl, before rejecting her as unworthy.
    Thunderous applause allowed Guang to slip closer to his father.
    Lord Yun was on his feet now, staring at the dancers like one possessed by fox-fairies. It seemed he might rush forward, causing a scandal that could only end in arrest. Surely every eye in the crowd must be upon him! Someone might even recognise the former Lord of Wei.
    Guang gently took the old man’s arm. The tumult on stage was beginning to settle. Now was the time to slip away, while attention was focused on the actors. Yet he dared not manhandle Father, who would certainly protest. So he stood beside him and awaited the worst.
    Yet a strange thing happened. As Chang Xi addressed the crowd once more, bewailing his failure to find a virtuous maiden, his glance fell upon Guang and the painted man blinked in surprise. The actor’s hesitation was momentary, but the fugitive’s stomach tightened. Had they been recognised?
    Perhaps the posters were more accurate than he supposed. The actor hurried into the wings.
    A beautiful lady entered the stage. Her silks and make-up were perfect. The Mongol officers exchanged sly remarks, no doubt recollecting their own hairy women and itchy, yak-skin couches.
    ‘I am Shu Qian,’ she announced, in a shrill, nasal voice. ‘My father is so poor he has arranged an auction of my virtue. . .’
    A commotion at the edge of the crowd made Guang turn.
    Then he knew they were truly lost.
    Khan Bayke and his retinue were pushing their horses straight into the ranks of people, examining faces in the crowd.
    In a moment they would cry out in recognition, riding down any who got in their way.
    Someone was tugging at his arm. He turned to find a fat lady at his side. Closer inspection revealed a eunuch dressed in women’s clothes.
    ‘Quick!’ he hissed. ‘Follow me.’
    The crowd was applauding again as the beautiful Shu Qian began to sing. Guang enveloped his Father in strong arms and carried him after the fat he-woman, who hustled them to the side of the stage, out of sight. Yet as Guang placed his hand over Lord Yun’s mouth, the old man’s jaws closed tight and Guang cried out in pain. When, in the safety of an alleyway crowded with actors waiting to go on stage, he pried open Lord Yun’s clamped jaws, a bloody half-circle of tooth marks dis figured his hand, scars he would carry to his grave.
    *
    They were led to a room at the rear of a cheap tavern. The eunuch bowed very low.
    ‘Wait here,’ he said, examining the two fugitives curiously.
    ‘My master will join you as soon as the performance ends.’
    Before Guang could demand more information the man had gone. Father squatted on the floor, just as he had in Whale Rock Monastery, alternately weeping and staring into space.
    Sometimes he muttered incoherent words. Guang did not wish to know what haunted so troubled a mind. Lord Yun’s lack of dignity revolted him. His instinct was to flee into the streets of Chunming but he held back. After all, the actors could have betrayed them