In the third year of Established Calm, as the Han dynasty slouched at last after centuries of glory into irreparable decline, an embassy to the Middle Kingdom arrived from the impossibly distant barbarians who styled themselves the Imperium Romanum.

Their ambassador, Aulus, had taken the maritime route through the Red Sea, circumnavigated India and sailed past Jiaozhi up the South China Sea.

In the Eastern Palace of Luoyang he performed the three kneelings and nine kowtows to Emperor Ling, then delivered gifts and a greeting from the philosopher emperor An Dun, who was no other than Marcus Aurelius. The gifts were Baltic amber, worked silver, saffron, perfumes, a stout casket of gold coins stamped with the faces of the Caesars, two yellow-haired serving girls, and fine wool dyed the indelible purple of the murex. The greeting had been meant to include a proposal for alliance against Parthia, but Aulus, seeing the sorry state of the Han, tactfully left this out.

His mission dispatched, as soon as he could politely depart Aulus sailed not west but still further east to the island chain of Wa, today’s Nihon, which was divided back then into a hundred feuding kingdoms. These islands impart a heroic disposition to their inhabitants, so he had no trouble recruiting a new crew for an even stranger journey. His Egyptian sailors were glad to settle in the strongest of the kingdoms, led by the shaman queen Himiko, who was happy in exchange to reprovision their ship, for she valued their sharp physiques and timeless religious knowledge.

East of Wa they passed from the seas of history into those of myth, following the watery road that Xu Fu the court sorcerer of Qin is said to have taken six centuries past. Everyone knows that Fu had stopped in Nihon and taught farming, sericulture and medicine to the ancient Japanese, who in gratitude adopted him as a local god, but even the scholars of Luoyang were uncertain where his final road had led.

Aulus has a strong guess from his dreams, and this sufficed for the crew, for Xu Fu had gone to find the Elixir of Life, and what is heroism if not to brave danger and hardship for the sake of life?

It took three months of miserable sailing, harassed by wind and sea demons, before they found the secret current of fresh water hidden between furious salt waves. They followed this Sweet River south and further south until at last one bright morning they sighted the white line of a beach between sky and sea.

This had been the greatest feat of seamanship since the Argonauts, to be exceeded only centuries later by Sinbad and Magellan. They were all half dead and wept as they kissed the sand.

They saw at once that the island was inhabited, or had been, for piled stones marked a trail. They debated if it were safer to survey the coast from the ship, but their hearts were now too hungry for solid ground, and anyway it seemed safer to reconnoiter by foot. Leaving four men to guard the ship against thief and tide, Aulus led the other sixteen inland.

They had never seen nature so beautiful, so bountiful, or so gentle. Bare sand gave way gracefully to grasses and ferns, then to handsome stands of bamboo and flowery shrubs, then to a broad leaf forest that shaded them from the midday sun but left plenty of space for light and breeze. Waterfalls everywhere offered clean drink, and at each rest they found coconuts and wild fruit. They spotted game too, birds and small shy deer and at least one boar, but they did not slow down to hunt.

In the late afternoon they found the first village. It was like any small farming-and-fishing village that Aulus had known, except for the cleanliness and beauty of its people. No lameness or infections here, not so much as a rotten tooth or ordinary lice. The villagers greeted them warmly—no fear of strangers either!—and they swiftly found they had language in common, a kind of old Huaxia dialect, antique in diction and sweetly musical.

That evening they ate rice, taro root, and fish seasoned in herbs—a feast after weeks of short rations. It showed their natural trust in these natives that they made no objection to sleeping each to a separate hut. Aulus himself stayed up late in the lodge of their local chief, or rather village official, for they knew true government here. They spoke at length by lamplight and consulted records on bound bamboo slips.

This land, Yingzhou, was a long sinuous island, mountainous in the south, sloping down to rich fields and watery basins in the north where they had landed. When Aulus asked who ruled, the old official explained with a chuckle that as a rich and hidden land without fear of war, they never had much need of rule, just a little gentle organising of roads and trade.

But all men need a master, the Roman objected. How else to keep them in their place?

“Tomorrow,” answered the official, “you will go to meet the Furen of Waterfall Court.” Aulus couldn’t quite tell through the veil of language if the term, meaning “great lady”, referred here to their queen or to a local goddess. On this the old man would not be drawn out any further.

So they set out at dawn with packs full of leaf-wrapped rice and fish. Two young guides escorted them. Other villagers went to their ship with food and a reassuring letter from their captain.

It was only a day’s journey, and horses were rare on the island, so they went on foot. The slow pace gave them ample time to marvel at the natural and human beauty they saw everywhere. The strangest sight to these hardened men was how even the largest towns lacked any defensive wall or palisade.

That night they slept at the foot of a mountain, not enormous but high enough to command a view over the fields. Another guide took over in the morning and led them up a broad zigzagging wooden walkway. Temple maidens in light, almost transparent silks passed them on the path, lighting incense at shrines.

They heard the musicians before they saw them. Ladies on flute and zither accompanied the clear, immortal voices of cascading waters. Then they rounded the last bend and the Waterfall Court was before them.

Aulus had seen palaces stuffed with gold and marble, jade and chalcedony. This was different. The Court did not impose; it welcomed. The wooden palace was built so harmoniously into the mountain that one could imagine it had grown there. Elegant carvings enchanted the eye. Tiles and paving stones lay exactly where needed for comfort; cushions and hangings of silk were as natural and appropriate here as the wings of the butterflies that played among the pools into which a dozen waterfalls fell.

All through the audience hall were handmaidens, ladies in waiting, priestesses, musicians in colourful silks. There were men paying court too, slim and handsome, like the young guide still at Aulus’s side. His men of Wu looked ragged by comparison, but tough, in a compact group behind him.

Atop the throne—no more than a cushioned bench, but a throne all the same because she sat there—was the woman who Aulus saw at once was queen and goddess both. She was as beautiful as the land, as sweetly young as the falling water, as approachable as a farm girl next door.

“I am the lady Youmei, the Furen, the breast and womb of Yingzhou.”

Aulus bowed.

“Your servant Aulus Felix, mariner and former ambassador. Are you this land’s ruler?”

“Not ruler. Its bride. The soul of this island suffuses my feminine centre, my yin. From our union arises the land’s abundance.”

Aulus had heard a hundred other pompous royal boasts of some divine connection to their domain. Looking at the lady Youmei, for the first time he believed it.

“Youmei… not You Mei the sorceress, the lover of Xu Fu? From the days of the Qin? Then you found the Elixir of Immortality?”

She laughed lightly. “Only the waters around us. When Xu Fu and You Mei brought refugees from the Qin, all the land was dead bare rock, for Yingzhou was overrun by fire devils. Xu Fu gave his life to drive them away. Here on this mountain, with his last breath he married his lover to the island. Then water broke through the rocks, all the land burst into green, and the survivors had their new home.

“And this connection passed from mother to daughter, teacher to pupil, lover to lover. There is always a Youmei of Yingzhou. The more she embodies her feminine soul, the more bountiful the land.”

Aulus looked around him at the clear pools, dignified surroundings, flawless people. “Then you must embody it well.”

A cloud passed over Youmei’s face.

“And yet these may be our last days. Have you heard of the Nightmare Fire Clan?”

“In the Middle Kingdom, yes. A brotherhood of bandits and extortioners, like the collegia of my own—”

Their guide struck at Aulus, a knife that wasn’t there a moment ago slicing through the air. He met Aulus’s own short knife in his throat and collapsed face down. The flutes and zither stopped.

Aulus nudged the twitching body over with his foot. The guide still clutched a long, wicked blade.

“Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

Some ladies screamed. But other courtiers kept their heads, and with a few of Aulus’s men, they cleared the body away to be burned decently, then washed the floor, lit incense and beat drums to drive off the assassin’s ghost.

“Let us talk,” said Youmei, “with more privacy.”

She led Aulus out of the audience hall through winding wood-paved paths with awnings for rainy days, past shrines, libraries, and gardens to her own quarters, a large long chamber of carven wood. On one side lay her bed, low and wide and surprisingly simple. On the other water flowed into a bathing basin, channeled from the mountain cascades. Next to this basin was a fountain of dancing water, and in the center of the quarters was a low table at which they sat.

Aulus felt the shock of the attack catch up to him.

“Why the hell don’t you have bodyguards?”

Youmei sighed. “I suppose we need them. Understand, we have known peace and plenty for so long that violence doesn’t come naturally to us.”

Aulus shook his head. “The Nightmare Fire Clan… the most vicious offshoot of the Yellow Turbans. But they were wiped out. Their Dragon Head, Lung Tao, was driven away.”

“So he was. Lung Tao came to our shores just as you did. He declared right where you stood that he would take our island for himself, make our people his slaves, make me his concubine. Even though he was alone, he leapt at me in front of everyone and pulled away my green sash that has been worn since the first You Mei, and said he would come back in a year to bind my wrists with it. That was eleven months ago.

“Since then he’s been gathering numbers. There have been reports of thefts, disappearances, burnings in the outlying towns. Yet our searches have been fruitless.

“Perhaps it is weakness that we welcome you as openly as we welcomed Lung Tao. But I think I’m right to trust you.”

A handmaiden arrived with cups and a steaming long-spouted pot. She took a long time ritually pouring their tea, giving Aulus time to form his thoughts.

“It seems to me,” he said at last, “that you are going to ask me for three things. To locate the Nightmare Fire Clan, to stop Lung Tao, and to bring peace to your island.”

Youmei took her cup and sipped. She had been pale from the attack, and the tea seemed to revive her.

“I know it is very much to ask. In return you may ask from me any three gifts you wish.”

Aulus hesitated.

“Honoured lady, I have come to your court. I have seen your beauty. Now I can give you only one sincere answer. Take no offence, please, when I remind you that you have three holes.”

Youmei looked perplexed. Then she turned bright red.

“You would ask for my body? And as payment?”

“If I hunt the Nightmare Fire Clan the likely outcome is my death, be it quick or by long unspeakable tortures. Who then is asking more of whose body?”

To this there could be no reply.

“But I do not ask,” continued Aulus. “I have confessed that your love is the only gift worthy of such danger. Anything else I asked would have been a lie. Yet I named myself your servant, and I accept your three errands gladly, asking nothing in return.”

Youmei set down her cup.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then, great lady, let me offer one more thought. In my native Rome we keep it simple, we say that men are men and power means male power. Yet here in the East I’ve learned that yin and yang perpetuate one another in cycles and are the stronger for it. I think our energies mingled might have a greater chance of victory than mine alone.”

A long time passed as neither said a word. They only thought, sipped tea, and looked at one another.

“I will think about it,” said Youmei.

The next day Aulus set out on a horse lent by the court, smaller and slower than the great Ferghana horses imported by the Middle Kingdom, but sure-footed. He went alone and unarmored, insisting that one man could conduct this search better than a hundred. His crew stayed at the mountain, lavishly accommodated.

Ten days later, at the first light of dawn, the horse came back, bearing Aulus pale and half-dead. He had tied himself into the saddle and thrown away all other supplies, and this and the horse’s gentleness were all that had kept him from falling.

His men eased him down and at Youmei’s instructions carried him on a sledge up the mountain to her own chamber, where her temple women undressed him, washed him with sacred water, and put a few drops between his lips.

Hours later he opened his eyes.

“I’m dying,” he said.

“You’re healing. Our waters are curative.”

By evening Aulus was sitting up and even ate a little rice. “Your island is really a dormant chain of volcanos,” he said. “The rocks here are clearly fire-born. The name ‘Nightmare Fire’ made me think there might be some connection, so I rode south into the mountains.

“The way gets ever steeper, wilder, rockier, as you must know, but your horses are brilliant in bad terrain. And you still have little villages tucked between the mountains. I stopped in them and asked the villagers for every old story they could remember, telling them in return the exploits of Perseus and Hercules.

“Lady of the Waterfall Court, the story you told me of your ancestor was lovely but a bit too clean. You haven’t seen enough of the world to know that generations lay pretty stories over the past like a carpet hiding damaged wood. What I heard in the mountains is that the island was already bountiful when your people arrived, but perilous from active volcanos and those who lived here already—the ‘fire demons’ of your story. They were hard to wipe out because they knew when the volcanos would erupt and used them to their advantage. Xu Fu beguiled the mountains to sleep by mating their fiery souls to You Mei’s yin, and the former natives dwindled away. The rest you know.

“I believe that Lung Tao descends from those first-comers: a ‘fire demon’, if you will, whose ancestors fled to the mainland. When they drove him out of the Middle Kingdom he came back here to take what he sees as his. So I went looking for the largest of the sleeping volcanos, somewhere a whole clan could hide in empty tunnels.

“At last I spotted armed men in crimson cloaks among the rocks. Knowing they could only be bandits I followed them. In short, I was an idiot, not considering that they would have lookouts. By the time I spied their camp a dozen men were attacking me with blowguns. A dart hit me in the knee.

“From there all credit goes to your horse. How he got me home I’ll never know. I barely had time to secure myself as best I could before my strength ebbed away. They must have used snake venom. I still don’t know how I’m alive.”

“Lie back now,” said Youmei. She unfastened her hair and let it fall in black cascades down her shoulders. Aulus noticed for the first time that he was in her bed and naked under a silk blanket. Youmei glowed in the light of the braziers. “Lie back and let me tell you another story.

“In my youth, when I first grew curious about the physical acts of love, my first partner was my handmaiden. She is three years older than me, wise, generous, and patient, with a loving laugh and gentle nature. I already knew that I was destined to be the new Youmei, through my maternal grandmother, and so beyond the feelings we all naturally develop I was also discovering a well of magic.

“Her patience was what I needed most back then. She’d let me kiss all over her arms and legs and chest till I was breathless, and would leave it at that when I went no further. She’d touch me where I asked to be touched, kissed when I begged her to kiss, listened when I shared my dreams.

“Many years later she left the court to marry a local farmhand. I was Youmei by then and officiated the wedding, and later blessed each of her babies. I saw that for her the courtly life had been a cheerful game, but her deep satisfaction is belonging to her family and to the earth. Of course we still sometimes hold hands or share a quick kiss, but more in happy memory, for I age slowly and now she feels more like an aunt to me.

“After you rode south I went to visit her. Of course I could have had her summoned but some lessons are best taught at home. She had told me before of the reviving way she likes to welcome her husband home after a hard day in the fields, and now they let me watch her perform the ritual.

“First she washed off the dirt and sweat of his labours, as we’ve washed you.