Read Online Taming Poison Dragons by Tim Murgatroyd - Free Book Online
Authors: Tim Murgatroyd
Ads: Link
his clothes.
His plump, pale face wore a smile of amused contempt. I glanced nervously at Father. To my amazement, even he seemed in awe of this strange, gorgeous fellow. It was our first glimpse of Uncle Ming’s wealth, and instead of admiration, it taught shame. Our Lordship of Wei, which had seemed so bright with honour, suddenly paled. Many contradictory and unwelcome sensations contend within the breast of a poor relation.
Father’s impatience for me to commence my studies meant I faced a winter journey to the capital. We left before dawn the next day, after a brief ceremony. I could not help weeping, and Cousin Hong made a great joke of my tears.
Days on road or river brought a thousand new sights and smells. Stooping peasants glimpsed in distant fields, boatwomen plying their oars, or high officials whose carriages dripped with silver – all fed my imagination in ways too subtle to conceive.
We travelled overland through a bare, wind-picked country, colours bled by the winter drought. Cousin Hong rode in his litter while I perched among the baggage on a camel’s back, wrapped in a cloak of sheep’s fur. At night we slept in village hostelries or small towns. They seemed vast cities to me. My senses and thoughts were in constant confusion.
I soon realised that Cousin Hong found me unworthy of notice. One evening, after we had dined in our usual silence, I recited the poem I had improvised for Father on Mulberry Ridge. No doubt I wished to impress him. To my surprise he grew angry.
‘So you can bleat, as your father boasted! Understand at once, I am not interested. My father can hire a dozen poets any time he likes. He is only adopting you because he has a soft heart. You will fail the examination and be sent back to your hut in the mountains with a scorched backside.’
His outburst shocked me. No one had ever treated me in so low a way.
‘ My father saved the life of General Yueh Fei at the Battle of T’su Hu Pass!’ I cried. ‘We are noble, not common peddlers!’
Cousin Hong laughed dryly, but I could tell my words stung. Even he realised there are qualities beyond the reach of cash coins threaded on a string.
We were delayed by blizzards for several weeks and had to spend the New Year celebration a hundred and fifty li north of the capital, in a village whose name I gladly forget, a place where only the lice were energetic. Cousin Hong literally ground his teeth, and I started to feel sorry for him.
Holed up in a miserable inn, while a curious dog inserted its snout up his fine silk coat, he got drunk and poured out his troubles. I listened silently. As I came to learn, he was missing a fine time by his absence from the capital at New Year. Wine lent him eloquence.
He told me of the New Year markets where dishes of rice coloured green, red, white, black and yellow were auctioned. To eat them brought good fortune and he always bid the highest. He told me of painted door gods and paper streamers bearing lucky characters, covering the festival-city like blossom. Firecrackers and gongs and drums filled the streets with noise, so that only a fool bothered to think. Men dressed as gods paraded on stilts.
Chimes and flutes chased misfortune round the Pond of Dragons, then through the Gate Of The Eastern Flowering, never to return.
‘We must get back in time for the Feast of Lanterns!’ he mumbled drunkenly, as though to a dear friend. ‘Ah, Yun Cai, then you will see something.’
‘Let us depart tomorrow!’ I cried, in my high-pitched voice.
I should add that he had favoured me with a cup of strong wine, to ‘float in’ the New Year.
‘What of the snow? Only a madman travels in snow.
We would shiver all the way.’
‘Let us shiver! Father marched in blizzards when he was an officer. Order the servants to prepare our departure!’
Cousin Hong bristled for a moment. Such decisions lay with him, not a boy. Then he laughed.
‘You understand nothing. My litter is heavy. The bearers
His plump, pale face wore a smile of amused contempt. I glanced nervously at Father. To my amazement, even he seemed in awe of this strange, gorgeous fellow. It was our first glimpse of Uncle Ming’s wealth, and instead of admiration, it taught shame. Our Lordship of Wei, which had seemed so bright with honour, suddenly paled. Many contradictory and unwelcome sensations contend within the breast of a poor relation.
Father’s impatience for me to commence my studies meant I faced a winter journey to the capital. We left before dawn the next day, after a brief ceremony. I could not help weeping, and Cousin Hong made a great joke of my tears.
Days on road or river brought a thousand new sights and smells. Stooping peasants glimpsed in distant fields, boatwomen plying their oars, or high officials whose carriages dripped with silver – all fed my imagination in ways too subtle to conceive.
We travelled overland through a bare, wind-picked country, colours bled by the winter drought. Cousin Hong rode in his litter while I perched among the baggage on a camel’s back, wrapped in a cloak of sheep’s fur. At night we slept in village hostelries or small towns. They seemed vast cities to me. My senses and thoughts were in constant confusion.
I soon realised that Cousin Hong found me unworthy of notice. One evening, after we had dined in our usual silence, I recited the poem I had improvised for Father on Mulberry Ridge. No doubt I wished to impress him. To my surprise he grew angry.
‘So you can bleat, as your father boasted! Understand at once, I am not interested. My father can hire a dozen poets any time he likes. He is only adopting you because he has a soft heart. You will fail the examination and be sent back to your hut in the mountains with a scorched backside.’
His outburst shocked me. No one had ever treated me in so low a way.
‘ My father saved the life of General Yueh Fei at the Battle of T’su Hu Pass!’ I cried. ‘We are noble, not common peddlers!’
Cousin Hong laughed dryly, but I could tell my words stung. Even he realised there are qualities beyond the reach of cash coins threaded on a string.
We were delayed by blizzards for several weeks and had to spend the New Year celebration a hundred and fifty li north of the capital, in a village whose name I gladly forget, a place where only the lice were energetic. Cousin Hong literally ground his teeth, and I started to feel sorry for him.
Holed up in a miserable inn, while a curious dog inserted its snout up his fine silk coat, he got drunk and poured out his troubles. I listened silently. As I came to learn, he was missing a fine time by his absence from the capital at New Year. Wine lent him eloquence.
He told me of the New Year markets where dishes of rice coloured green, red, white, black and yellow were auctioned. To eat them brought good fortune and he always bid the highest. He told me of painted door gods and paper streamers bearing lucky characters, covering the festival-city like blossom. Firecrackers and gongs and drums filled the streets with noise, so that only a fool bothered to think. Men dressed as gods paraded on stilts.
Chimes and flutes chased misfortune round the Pond of Dragons, then through the Gate Of The Eastern Flowering, never to return.
‘We must get back in time for the Feast of Lanterns!’ he mumbled drunkenly, as though to a dear friend. ‘Ah, Yun Cai, then you will see something.’
‘Let us depart tomorrow!’ I cried, in my high-pitched voice.
I should add that he had favoured me with a cup of strong wine, to ‘float in’ the New Year.
‘What of the snow? Only a madman travels in snow.
We would shiver all the way.’
‘Let us shiver! Father marched in blizzards when he was an officer. Order the servants to prepare our departure!’
Cousin Hong bristled for a moment. Such decisions lay with him, not a boy. Then he laughed.
‘You understand nothing. My litter is heavy. The bearers
Similar Books
