MOURN THEIR COURAGE

Xing Dynasty: In the Tenth Year of Rebuilt Tranquility

Chapter One

Inside the Peach Orchard Inn, Lord Liu Jie counted around two hundred recruits. He sighed. To bring peace, we must attack our brothers. Beside him on the narrow stair's landing, Jie's general drained a tankard and slammed the metal cup against the stair's supporting pillar. General Tong's armor emphasized his girth and the single eyebrow, bristling mustache and beard completed an intimidating picture, reminding everyone why they'd come.

Grimfaced, Jie waited while the recruits quieted.

"For the safety of his people, Emperor Xien has warned us about rebels who have robbed from Imperial warehouses — stealing from all of us and threatening the capital." The rebels are probably more starving farmers in need of pity, not punishment.

Jie gazed at the trusting, uplifted faces below. They were just like the men and women he would soon kill. He'd done nothing to deserve acceptance or hatred, but appear in armor.

"We must do more than be wary. Our Imperial Father is in danger and we must protect him." Jie paused. "General Tong Zhang will see you are fed and I will pay those who serve."

The room buzzed. Most men joined militias for consistent meals they didn't receive elsewhere. That's reason for loyalty, but not enough.

Jie raised his hand and the room quieted in an instant. "Make your mark on the sign up sheet. We'll take recruits for the next three days." Jie nodded to the crowd and stepped off the landing as men rushed forward to give their names to Zhang.

Servants lit the new-fangled paper lanterns. The fragile lights swayed as he passed.

Jie still struggled, sickened by his decision to go to war. All he wanted was to reach his nephew, the Emperor. Together, they could stop the mounting civil unrest. It was why he and his family had journeyed all the way across the country, but now he couldn't reach the Emperor without sounding the battle drums he'd fought to keep silent.

"Will they have flower song girls in this war?" One nearby farmer laughed.

"No." Another grinned, pushing the first young man out of line. "They'll make you into one." They laughed and jostled one another, some nervous, others boasting as the sign up line encircled the room and twined about the red pillars. Shouted orders for rice wine filled the inn and the drink's spiced, flowery scent overwhelmed Jie.

He clenched his fists. Heavenly Emperor, please don't let me betray their trust. He fought the desire to swipe his Chuntze cap off his head and crush it into a silken ball of colored bands. Black and yellow for nobility, blue for strategy master — a level of study he'd finished two years before and already wished he'd never completed.

The inn door slammed open and Jie's seven-year-old boy Shan rushed inside.

"Papa!" Shan cried. "Come outside, quick!"

Jie glanced at Zhang who chatted with the recruits, oblivious. Jie raised an eyebrow at his son. "It's dark outside. There's nothing to see."

"There's a body!" Shan said. "A dead boy's in the garden."

Coldness pressed in on Jie. A dead boy... "Show me." They hurried out the door. His eyes adjusted to the dark as he rushed beyond the golden light spilling from the inn's latticed windows.

Jie raced into the peach orchard after his son.

The moon's full face lit their path and sour wine rose from slippery peaches beneath Jie's feet. Dry leaves on branches sounded like a shallow stream. Like the river that brings the dead to hell. Did his ghosts haunt him again?

"Quick, Papa! The body's over here!" Shan gestured ahead.

Jie's embroidered cotton robes slapped against his legs.

Each cold breath was a visible, white dash before he reached the garden. At last, Jie slid to his knees.

Moonlight lit the hollow cheeks and blue lips of an emaciated teenage boy. Jie put his ear to the boy's chest and listened as air squeaked from the boy's lips.

"He's alive. Run and beg the innkeeper for hot water. I'll follow you."

Shan sprinted toward the inn.

Jie wished saving this boy would alter the memories of his dead children, but his life was a ladder of wishes. He refused to think of it, but gritted his teeth and hefted the strange boy into his arms. The boy's thin hemp tunic and straw sandals showed no blood. Jie probed the body for wounds and found none. The rebels were not responsible for the boy's condition, then. How long before the fighting involves the innocent? Jie shook the question and unwanted memories away. He ran.

Outside the inn, a blast of cold, rank air made the boy moan. The door burst open as if a typhoon wind struck it and Jie ran through.

"Shut the door!" a guest shouted, not looking to see who had come in. Jie ignored the demand and the curious stares of recruits. He pounded upstairs.

The innkeeper waited for them at the top of the landing, wringing his hands. "My Lord, perhaps he would fare better at the holy shrine?"

"No," Jie said. "He's not ill. I can feel his ribs. He needs good food, not incense." The innkeeper bowed out of the way as Shan opened the door to their room.

The instant Mei saw what he carried, her hands flew to her lips and tears threatened.

"He's alive, Mei," Jie said. "We need to warm and feed him and let him sleep." He hesitated, unsure of her response. "If you prefer, I can pay for the local priests to care for him."

"Nonsense." She pulled off the boy's tunic.

Relieved, Jie helped her remove the rest of the damp clothing. Mei would be all right, but Jie's heart still bled. The last undershirt, damp with sweat and stained red in odd places peeled away and they both gasped.

The child's back was crisscrossed with puckered scars.

The boy sat bolt upright, terror-filled wide eyes. "Don't hit me! I didn't do it! I didn't!" He screamed and flung himself away.

"We're not going to hurt you, boy," Mei said in her gentlest tone, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I have never whipped anyone in my life and I am not about to start with a boy," Jie said. His voice shook with revulsion.

The boy strained away for a few more moments, then passed out. He shuddered and groaned while Mei stoked the coals under the kang bed. Then she fed the boy beef broth while Jie ordered more warm water and toasted blankets by the fire. Together, they swaddled the young man in steaming cloth.

The boy muttered in nervous sleep on their bed while Shan watched. Subdued, Shan ate his meal and crawled into the farthest corner of the bed before falling asleep.

Jie looked at his wife. They were childhood friends before they married twenty-five years ago. He knew the terror and helplessness in his heart was in hers, too. But she would not give up. Mei was stronger than he. He hadn't always loved her for that as much as he did now.

Jie knelt before his ancestor's prayer stone. The stone was black and etched with the names of his parents, brothers and two boys.

Heavenly spirits and ancestors, please guide and protect us all. He wanted to say more, to commune with his loved ones, but weariness overtook him. Mei knelt beside him and her prayer was as short as his.

Neither commented on the other's tears as they climbed into bed and Jie blew out the light.

"Papa!" Jun said. "Papa, wake up!"

Jun? That's not possible.

Jie opened his eyes and relief flooded his heart. He was home. The roadside inn was gone along with thirteen years of guilt.

The boys are alive.

Jie sat up, drinking in his children. Jun knelt at his side and Jiao brought tea and rice porridge flavored with salt pork. Steam rose from the bowls like a kuei, a hungry ghost.

Jie sighed, happy because there were no kuei. The death of his sons was a terrible nightmare.

Daylight tried to break through the shutters. Jun laughed. He opened the windows. Birdsong rang in the courtyards. Jie wanted to spend the day with his children. A trip to town with his boys sounded wonderful.

"I'm sorry, Papa," Jiao said. He knelt with the porridge and tea kettle without spilling. He poured the tea and gave it to his father. Jie sipped it, cradling the warm cup in his numb hands.

"Sorry for what, son?" He wanted to treat them to sweets and a night of theater.

"I'm sorry we're dead."

Jie choked. His tea was bitter and his cup iced over, then cracked and shattered. The bright morning darkened to predawn blues. The birds fell silent.

"I'm sorry this is how we have to talk."

"We wish we could be with you, Papa," Jun said.

Tears wet Jie's cheeks as he struggled to stay in the dream.

"Take him with you, Papa. He's part of the family, too." Jiao's lips twisted in his sad half smile. He put his hand inside Jie's numb fingers for a moment.

Let me stay with you!

"Don't forget, Papa." Jun said, like he used to if Jie promised him a toy.

"Don't leave me alone," Jie pleaded.

"You know you're never alone, Papa." Jiao kissed him and was gone. Jun grinned and waved goodbye.

Jie woke. A frigid blanket of air wrapped around him. His eyes were glued shut with tears, but Mei's rustling step sounded and the Orchard Boy lay warm, but not hot beside him. A bird chirruped outside as if testing the morning. Jie smelled steamed rolls and bacon from downstairs.

Mei put a cup of tea in his hands and molded his numb fingers around the heated, smoothed clay.

Water dripped from a cloth as she wrung it out over their wash basin. She sipped from her teacup. Her actions were familiar and heartbreaking. She wiped the crusted tears away from his eyes, but the dream stayed in his heart. He'd prayed for guidance the night before. The response was not what he'd expected or wanted. He felt heavy with care and older than his years.

Mei always knew when he spoke with their boys, and he appreciated her willingness to wait for their message. She was tender and patient while they shared the basin for washing away sorrows.