Part 13 (2/2)

”Sawyer,” Zilin said. ”Barton Sawyer. His family, too, were farmers, though I don't believe they had anything to do with horses.”

”I don't know the name,” Davies said, obviously disappointed. ”But Virginia's a big state and I haven't been home in some time. Since I was a young boy, actually.”

Zilin, watching the expression softening Davies's features, thought, Well, at least some things remain universal. ”You must miss Virginia as much as I miss Suzhou.”

Davies gave a rueful smile and his face turned boyish. He had a wide, mobile mouth, clear blue eyes and the kind of straight patrician nose unheard of in Asia. His shock of curly reddish-blond hair covered the back of his neck in thoroughly unmilitary style. ”I suppose I do.” He took out a chased silver case, plucked out a cigarette. He offered one to Zilin, who politely refused. Davies struck a match. ”I was once quite a fine equestrianhorseback rider.”

Zilin suppressed the urge to grunt and hoot like an ape. Since he believes that I have a limited English vocabulary, he thought, I will not disabuse him of the notion. I may be able to make use of his ignorance in the future.

”Horses are something of an oddity in China,” Zilin said. ”I don't suppose there's been much chance to ride.”

Davies laughed, blew out smoke. ”Not a one.”

”Well, perhaps there's a farm near here where we can find you” he bit back the word equis”a n.o.ble steed to ride.”

”Really!” Davies came down off the steps, relinquis.h.i.+ng his added height advantage. *That would be most welcome. Quite fantastic, really.” He thought a moment, tapping ash off his cigarette. ”Look here, s.h.i.+ tong zhi, how would you like to learn how to ride?”

Not on your life, Zilin thought. With an inward shudder he imagined himself atop the gigantic creature. ”That would be most interesting, Mr. Davies. I would like that.”

Davies's blue eyes got shrewdor, Zilin thought, in his case, as close as they could come to shrewd. ”Look here, would you consider teaching me tai chi chuan in exchange for equestrian lessons?”

A decade of plagues on your horses, Zilin thought. ”A most splendid idea, Mr. Davies. I would be most pleased to a.s.sist you on such a worthy journey. Shall we say tomorrow at five thirty?”

Davies swallowed. ”In the morning?”

Zilin gave a little bow. ”You learn quickly, sir.”

Davies thrust out his huge hand. ”You've got a deal.” Grinning just like a gorilla.

In fact, Ross Davies proved an exceptionally quick study. While there was nothing fast about tai chi, the American was swift to pick up on the mental aspects of the discipline. This surprised Zilin somewhat since it had been his experience that most foreign devils failed completely to understand the philosophic nature of tai chi, relegating it to the province of old men and those too infirm to apply themselves to a ”real” discipline involving speed, strength and stamina.

The fact was that tai chi required great strength and stamina, since to perform exercises slowly took far more control and agility than to run through positions by rote. As for speed, one had to have it in order to keep it in check, as one did in tai chi. Besides, the mind was at work here, which made it a far cry from army calisthenics.

Davies brought up this point to Zilin at the beginning of their second week of morning meetings. ”I start to do my jumping jacks,” he said, ”and in this weather I'm overheated within a minute or two. With tai chi, we can work at it for over an hour and I'm still comfortable. Yet my body feels as if it has gotten as complete a workout as if I'd done my full complement of calisthenics.”

”I don't know much about what you call calisthenics,” Zilin said. ”But I do know that the body and the mind must be made one. Exercising the one without the other makes little sense.”

They were sitting on a bench in the courtyard, sipping tea.

”I sleep better since I've started tai chi. I smoke less,” Davies said. ”And here, look”he drank back his tea”I can put away hot tea in the summertime and not break out in a sweat. What do you make of that, s.h.i.+ tong zhi?”

Zilin laughed. ”That you're becoming Chinese.”

He had made inquiries and had found them a farm. It was up near the slopes of Jinyun Shan, the Red Silk Mountain, where they harvested the area's fine Jinyun tea. Zilin supposed that was why the horse hadn't been killed and eaten. Here, because of the tonnage of the harvest, he was more valuable to the peasant family alive. Indeed, he was an excellent specimen, Davies a.s.sured Zilin on their first visit. He ate as well, if not better, than the family itself.

All the young menthere were five brotherswere off at war, leaving the father, who was close to Zilin's age, the mother and three daughters. Yes, indeed, that horse was important, their lone means of survival through the bleak years of the war. Up here on the fertile slopes of the shan, where mult.i.tudinous subtropical plants grew in riotous profusion, there were no mean seasons. The carefully cultivated tea grew strong and full, and in China there were always empty teacups to fill.

On their first visit, Zilin brought presents of fish and egg noodles, staples to a faan gwai loh such as Davies, but manna from heaven for the Pu family.

”Why don't you just give them some money?” Davies said. Prompting Zilin to think that, no matter how tempting, it is unproductive to believe that apes will ever be able to think.

To Davies's way of thinking there was an awful lot of bowing and palaver, considering these people were just a bunch of peasants. But he did what Zilin bade of him. These people may be peasants, he rationalized while on his knees, bowing, but they have a horse.

*This is some animal,” he said sometime later, in the ramshackle structure that served as barn. He ran the flat of his hand across the animal's fetlock, feeling the long ropy muscles ripple beneath his palm. ”I'm amazed they take such good care of him.”

”Did you ever try to take a half ton of tea leaves down a mountainside on your back, Mr. Davies?”

Davies, continuing his a.s.sessment of the stallion, said, ”I see what you mean.”

”Accordingly, we must be extremely careful with this animal.” Zilin made sure that he stood well away from the monster. He had no desire to be kicked in the head by this unthinking creature. ”Without him, the Pus would most a.s.suredly starve or work themselves to death first.”

”No problem,” Davies said, and with a startlingly swift motion, he vaulted onto the stallion's back. There was a soft whinnying and a certain amount of nervous stamping which, had Davies been more observant, he would have seen panicked the other man. Zilin clung to a beam as if it were a spar off a broken s.h.i.+p, clutched in a storm.

Davies was bent over the stallion's arched neck. His hands gentled the creature while he spoke directly into its ear in a soft, singsong whisper.

In a moment, the horse was still, save for the odd reflexive s.h.i.+ver running down one leg or another. Davies urged it forward by a method unclear to Zilin.

He followed Davies and the horse cautiously out. It was near midday, the time when the family traditionally rested from its labors and the intense heat. It was no accident that Zilin had picked this time to take Davies here. He never would have thought to interrupt the family's daily routine with such an idiotic request as to borrow their precious animal, for sport.

The girls had come out of the house to watch the hideously tall faan gwai loh. They giggled and stared and one of them asked Zilin why if the barbarian's hair was on fire he didn't burn up.

Zilin watched in fascination as Davies bent forward and the horse leapt ahead, galloping along the steepening slopes, racing in and out of the singing trees. Birds called, scattering away from the pair's progress. Zilin saw the white tail of a rabbit bounding out of their way in a terrified zigzag.

He heard an odd sound. The Pu girls heard it, too, for they had fallen silent. And then Zilin knew. Buddha protect me, he thought, the barbarian is laughing. For a long time after that, Ross Davies's cries of sheer delight echoed down the slopes of Jinyun Shan where no such sound had ever been heard before.

In time, Davies returned. He came back at a slower pace which, he informed Zilin later, was important, since the animal needed to walk off the sweat of his galloping pace.

Davies, red-cheeked and grinning from ear to ear, swung off the stallion and said, ”Now it's your turn.”

Zilin's bowels turned to water. ”What?”

Davies c.o.c.ked his head. ”You don't think I've forgotten, do you, s.h.i.+ tong zhi? If you taught me tai chi, I promised to teach you how to ride.”

Is this my reward for living an honorable life? Zilin thought. ”It is getting rather late,” he said. ”Perhaps another day.”

”Nonsense!” Davies patted the horse's back. ”It's easy. Here, you're not as tall as I am so I'll give you a hand up.” He laced his fingers tightly together and bent over. ”Step right into there,” he said. ”Come on. You won't believe how much fun it can be.”

”I don't know, Mr. Davies. The prospect seemed somehow more appealing back at Chungking.”

”I understand,” Davies said, his emotions so transparent Zilin could almost see the light bulb going on over his head. He swung back up on the stallion's back and leaned over. Before Zilin knew what was happening, he felt himself being pulled up behind the American.

”Just put your arms around my waist, s.h.i.+ tong zhi” Davies said and dug his boot heels into the horse's flanks.

Oh, Buddha, this will never work! Zilin thought. Such physical contact in public was for himas it was for all Chinesesomething one did not even contemplate.

But as they lurched forward, he was almost thrown off, sliding backward along the creature's sweat-slick back, and he reached desperately out, seeing how far below him the ground was. Terrified of falling, he wrapped his arms tightly around the barbarian, closing his eyes and praying that none of his ancestors were awake and watching this humiliation.

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