deer hearts. A human heart can move a human heart, but how was she to move the hearts ofa herd of deer? She shouted loudly, calling out Qiliang’s name. The mournful sound sent evening dew falling to the ground. Her cries made the leaves and branches fall and curl, but the boys’ callous hearts remained unmoved.
General Deer gave her a disdainful look. ‘Is Qiliang your husband?’ he asked. ‘What good can calling his name do? If he came, we’d chain him to the tree next to you.’
Binu stubbornly continued to call out Qiliang’s name, and she heard the old elm tree behind her shout, ‘Qiliang! Qiliang! Qiliang!’ Then a crisp sound resounded in the night air: the branch of the elm tree snapped in two and crashed down on top of General Deer.
With a convulsive shudder, he threw off the offending branch and cried out in alarm, ‘What is this woman shouting?’ he demanded. ‘Her shouts have snapped a branch!’
Chancellor Deer picked up the branch and examined the dewdrops that covered it. ‘Shouting didn’t break it, crying did. Her tears are all over this branch.’
At that moment, the boys were plunged into inexplicable terror, from which emerged the certainty that they must stop the woman from shouting. Her shouts were so shrill that they swirled around the forest, just as their mothers’ cries had when they were calling their sick children’s spirits back from the mountain. Binu’s shouts hadopened the door of their memories; they found themselves thinking back to their mothers, wherever they were, and that led to thoughts of their homes, and from there to those wretched virtues they detested – conscience, filial piety, moral integrity, all things that were anathema to free-ranging deer-boys. To stop those memories, they had to stop Binu shouting.
Chancellor Deer picked a strip of hemp from the grave and stuffed it in Binu’s mouth. ‘Go ahead, shout,’ he said. ‘I’ll just stuff the hemp in tighter.’ Dew from the elm tree rained down on Chancellor Deer, who complained loudly that his deer horns hurt terribly and were about to fall off. General Deer stepped away from the tree, protesting that when he had stepped on a fallen leaf, sharp pains had shot up his leg, and that several months of practising how to leap like a deer were about to be cancelled out in a single day. The other deer-boys had suffered a variety of uncomfortable reactions. The hand of one still meandered about his own chest, as if seeking the location of his heart; a tear had appeared in the corner of another’s eye.
Now that they had silenced Binu, the boys appeared to recover and bounded away. They stopped after a few leaps, turned and studied her face closely, anxiously waiting for something to happen. With her voice stilled,her eyes became a latent danger. They were opened as wide as they would go, the pupils reflecting the semidarkness of the pre-dawn morning, empty, it seemed, of all traces of resentment or anger. They reminded the boys of their mothers’ eyes, although Binu’s eyes radiated a watery light, an obvious sign that tears were about to spill from them. Tears from her breasts, the palms of her hands and her toes had surprised and delighted the boys, but tears from her eyes threw them into a panic.
‘Tears! Tears! There are tears in her eyes! Don’t let her look at us. Cover her eyes!’
They rushed up, tore off Binu’s sash, and wrapped it around her eyes, but that had no effect on her tears, which flowed down her cheeks like a river, crystal-clear drops that splashed lightly onto the boys’ faces. Troubled by a nagging premonition that Binu’s tears were imbued with evil curses, the boys tried to get out of the way, leaping and screaming and wiping the tears off, but it was too late. They all experienced an attack of sadness, accompanied by powerful feelings of homesickness – a faraway village, a dog, a pair of goats, three pigs, crops in the field, the indistinct faces of father and mother,
General Deer gave her a disdainful look. ‘Is Qiliang your husband?’ he asked. ‘What good can calling his name do? If he came, we’d chain him to the tree next to you.’
Binu stubbornly continued to call out Qiliang’s name, and she heard the old elm tree behind her shout, ‘Qiliang! Qiliang! Qiliang!’ Then a crisp sound resounded in the night air: the branch of the elm tree snapped in two and crashed down on top of General Deer.
With a convulsive shudder, he threw off the offending branch and cried out in alarm, ‘What is this woman shouting?’ he demanded. ‘Her shouts have snapped a branch!’
Chancellor Deer picked up the branch and examined the dewdrops that covered it. ‘Shouting didn’t break it, crying did. Her tears are all over this branch.’
At that moment, the boys were plunged into inexplicable terror, from which emerged the certainty that they must stop the woman from shouting. Her shouts were so shrill that they swirled around the forest, just as their mothers’ cries had when they were calling their sick children’s spirits back from the mountain. Binu’s shouts hadopened the door of their memories; they found themselves thinking back to their mothers, wherever they were, and that led to thoughts of their homes, and from there to those wretched virtues they detested – conscience, filial piety, moral integrity, all things that were anathema to free-ranging deer-boys. To stop those memories, they had to stop Binu shouting.
Chancellor Deer picked a strip of hemp from the grave and stuffed it in Binu’s mouth. ‘Go ahead, shout,’ he said. ‘I’ll just stuff the hemp in tighter.’ Dew from the elm tree rained down on Chancellor Deer, who complained loudly that his deer horns hurt terribly and were about to fall off. General Deer stepped away from the tree, protesting that when he had stepped on a fallen leaf, sharp pains had shot up his leg, and that several months of practising how to leap like a deer were about to be cancelled out in a single day. The other deer-boys had suffered a variety of uncomfortable reactions. The hand of one still meandered about his own chest, as if seeking the location of his heart; a tear had appeared in the corner of another’s eye.
Now that they had silenced Binu, the boys appeared to recover and bounded away. They stopped after a few leaps, turned and studied her face closely, anxiously waiting for something to happen. With her voice stilled,her eyes became a latent danger. They were opened as wide as they would go, the pupils reflecting the semidarkness of the pre-dawn morning, empty, it seemed, of all traces of resentment or anger. They reminded the boys of their mothers’ eyes, although Binu’s eyes radiated a watery light, an obvious sign that tears were about to spill from them. Tears from her breasts, the palms of her hands and her toes had surprised and delighted the boys, but tears from her eyes threw them into a panic.
‘Tears! Tears! There are tears in her eyes! Don’t let her look at us. Cover her eyes!’
They rushed up, tore off Binu’s sash, and wrapped it around her eyes, but that had no effect on her tears, which flowed down her cheeks like a river, crystal-clear drops that splashed lightly onto the boys’ faces. Troubled by a nagging premonition that Binu’s tears were imbued with evil curses, the boys tried to get out of the way, leaping and screaming and wiping the tears off, but it was too late. They all experienced an attack of sadness, accompanied by powerful feelings of homesickness – a faraway village, a dog, a pair of goats, three pigs, crops in the field, the indistinct faces of father and mother,
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