China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

with the correct medicine, was soon nearly himself again. The owner of the lacquer workshop gave me piecework, but for the time being there wasn’t enough to support a family, and I wasn’t sure there ever would be. My mother found part-time work as a servant in a merchant’s house. The only one of the family who was really happy was my father.

The city seemed to suit him. Not that he found regular employment. But wandering the streets, he seemed to make friends with astonishing speed. Perhaps it was because he was always talking to people and asking about their business. In no time he became a well-known figure around our lodgings, and people began to employ him on all kinds of errands. They’d always give him something for his time and trouble, and though it wasn’t much, he made enough to pay for our food and part of the rent. For the first time I realized that my father wasn’t actually lazy—it was just that he hated repetitive work. There wasn’t much scope for a man like that in a village; but in a big city, he could survive quite well.

When my second child was born, he turned out to be a healthy son. You might think that would have made me happy, and in a way it did. But it also made me anxious.

With my family growing, I was looking for ways to earn more money for my wife and children. As for my parents, my mother could be paid as a servant and my father might pick up a sort of living hustling in the streets, but one day that would end and I’d have to look after them, too. Everything fell to me. Getting paid for piecework was all very well, but I needed a permanent position—not only for the money today, but so that I could work with more advanced craftsmen, improve my skills, and earn more in the future.

I’d already discovered that the master owner of the lacquer store employed very few craftsmen on-site. He mostly farmed the work out to people like me. There were other lacquer workshops in the capital, of course, though I had no introduction to them. I did visit several, all the same, to ask if they had any piecework for me, but had no luck; and nobody was offering a permanent position at that time.

So every day, you can imagine, there was a nagging fear in my mind. What if my little boy got sick again, or the new baby? What was I going to do then?

My father had done quite well when he’d sold the lacquer piece he’d stolen, and he still had some money left over. That was our reserve in case of emergencies. After that, there was nothing.

It was a month before the new year when I brought a piece of finished work to the lacquer store. This little box was a bit more complex than anything I’d done before. There was a pattern on the lid that had needed to be carefully carved, and I was quite proud of the result.

When the owner of the store examined it, he nodded in appreciation. “This is beautiful work,” he said. “I’m going to pay you double what we agreed.” I was quite overwhelmed. But only for a moment. “I’m afraid I won’t be needing you anymore,” he went on. “If I do, I’ll let you know. But don’t expect anything.”

“But surely, my work…”

“Oh, your work is excellent. The trouble is, I’ve a fellow who’s been supplying me for years who wants more commissions. So I’m giving him the work that you do. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid he comes before you do.” He gave me a kindly look. “That’s partly why I’m paying you double now, to help tide you over.”

There was no point in arguing. I said thank you and went on my way.

It was still early morning. I didn’t go home. I remember walking through the streets for hours in a kind of daze. I began to imagine terrible things—my father stealing again and getting caught, my children dying for want of medicine…I scarcely even noticed where I was going until I found myself not far from the Tiananmen Gate and opposite a large teahouse. This won’t do, I thought. I need to stop having nightmares, drink some tea, calm down, and think about what I can do to make a living. So I went into the teahouse. And once I had my tea, I tried to be logical.

It seemed to me that, whether I liked it or not, there wasn’t much hope of getting employment practicing the one craft for which I had any skill. And I couldn’t afford to start again as an apprentice in a new trade. Perhaps I could be a servant in a merchant’s house. But the pay isn’t much. I started to go through all the trades and occupations I could think of. And I’d been doing that for a little while when I heard the sound of drums.

It was a small procession, like the one I’d seen the time I came to visit Grandfather’s Elder Brother when I was a boy. A magnificent company of palace eunuchs solemnly led the way, flanked by drummers and men beating gongs. And the moment I saw them I felt a thrill of pleasure. The silks the eunuchs wore were so richly embroidered, so splendid, just to see them was like a glimpse of Heaven. I could almost forget my own troubles for a moment.

They were followed by a closely guarded sedan chair, no doubt containing some high palace official. They passed the teahouse and came to a big mansion where the sedan chair entered. Some of the eunuchs disappeared into the courtyard of the mansion or were brought chairs and sat by the gateway. Three decided to go for a walk. And to my surprise, one came into the teahouse.

The manager of the teahouse almost fell over himself as he