“What does he say?”
“Nothing yet, my lord. He has merely been polite.”
“At some length?”
“He must, my lord. The custom of killing the messenger is still very much alive in China, my lord. If you take offence, his superior might well cut off his head as apology.”
Magnus could not approve; humanity apart, a messenger told to give information that must be unwelcome might well choose to modify his message to save his neck, or simply take to the hills leaving the whole thing undelivered.
“Here we have it, my lord. You are begged to join the Prefect at his residence, there to discuss ‘the unfortunate series of events that have recently occurred and which have occasioned great embarrassment’.”
“Does that mean that he is embarrassed or that I should be?”
Jian could offer no certain answer. He suspected that neither party was liable to emerge from this incident with honour intact.
“Can we make it clear that the British are acting as intermediaries, Jian? We are not party to the incident inasmuch that we belong to neither side. Our aim is solely to prevent trouble, to ensure that a minor affair does not lead to friction between nations.”
“Dubious, my lord. The Americans and the British are seen to be allied against the interests of China. You may not be American, but you are more likely to side with the Americans than with the Chinese. You are not neutral in the dispute, even though not directly a party to it.”
That, Magnus had to admit, was true.
“Make the point that the British Legation would not object to the Americans losing face in Peking. If the Yankees feel under an obligation to us, then they may be pressured to take our side against Germany when it comes to the next round of negotiations about the Treaty Ports.”
Jian thought that he could offer that argument with a good chance that it would be accepted. It was hard-nosed politics – which was the way of the Chinese world as well.
They formed up into processional order, the Marines in pairs and staring rigidly to their front. The Chinese in the city watched them silently – possibly impressed by their military bearing, perhaps simply wondering what the little group of foreigners were doing and what they wanted now.
They followed a guide into the courtyard of the Prefect’s residence, lined up in a double rank before dismounting in front of a group of senior officials. Jian conferred with a young man who stepped forward to greet him.
“My lord, expecting to be here a day or more, there is space in the stables for all horses and a barracks room for the men and another for the baggage train. There will be food.”
“Offer the gentleman my thanks, Jian.”
Magnus turned to Sergeant Martin, ordered him to mount a pair of sentries at all times, armed, and to keep the men sober.
“Don’t let them leave the barracks and stable area, Sergeant Martin, not for any purposes. Any female comforts offered are to come into the barracks. The men will not go out to them. Do not permit yourselves to be placed under armed guard.”
Sergeant Martin was not at all sure how he could do that, but he was not about to argue with an officer, particularly with his acting promotion not yet confirmed.
“The clerk asks that you accompany him to an immediate audience with the Prefect, my lord. Your man should stand at your shoulder and I will be present out of necessity.”
They walked a few yards down a large and impressive hallway – polished stonework rather than brick construction, and high ceilings – then turned into an audience chamber, the chief place of business, serving as courtroom as well as office. The room was crowded, many of the people there on ordinary business.
“Are we being humiliated, Jian? Intentionally being placed with the crowd of petitioners begging word with their master?”
“Only partly, my lord. He is in a hurry and has not had time to clear the chamber. He prefers not to dally, one might say.”
Chapter Five
The Earl’s Other Son Series
Chinese Whispers
The Prefect was an old man, at the end of his career, Magnus surmised. His post at Yanking was probably his last before he entered into an honourable retirement – provided he survived the current crisis. He felt rather sorry for the old fellow – passed his exams and entered the Imperial service and then worked his way up the ranks of mandarins until he reached his present eminence, one step short of provincial governorship, probably one of the top five thousand of functionaries in a country of uncounted hundreds of millions of people. All he had achieved in a lifetime of effort was now in jeopardy.
Failure to resolve this crisis could be a factor in creating a new war, one that China would inevitably lose with the result that more territory would fall into foreign hands.
If the Prefect gave away too much, then he might find himself accused of treachery and fall under the executioner’s sword, unless he was sentenced to a more exotic means of death. If he made no concessions, then he would be the scapegoat when the causes of the new war came to be examined.
A younger man might take greater risks – if he could humiliate the foreigners and yet avoid war, then he would probably be well rewarded by Peking, unless he showed too able, when he might be assassinated as a threat to the established order.
The Prefect remained seated but offered a low nod of his head. Magnus came to attention and gave a salute, thus offering respect while avoiding the appearance of bowing more deeply than his host.
Jian translated a few words of greeting.
“His Excellency is pleased to see an emissary from the Legations but is surprised that you are not American, my lord.”
Magnus had not expected so direct a challenge, or not immediately.
“My respects to the gentleman, Jian. Suggest that I have noble rank, which no American possesses, and am here to offer respect and the prospect of a discussion between men of more equal status in the world. Point out as well that the American captain at the Legation has taken to his bed with an unfortunate illness. We did not wish to offer the discourtesy of delay.”
Jian said something in Mandarin and then spent more time elaborating on the initial statement.
“I had to explain your rank, sir, and your soon-to-come promotion on your ancient father’s death.”
“Not too soon, I trust, Jian.”
“You are soon to be a member of your House of Lords, my lord. That must not be understated.”
The Prefect made a longer speech. Magnus watched his face and tried to get a feeling for his body language. He felt that the old man was more nervous, that he had decided at first that Magnus was a minor figure, because he came leading no more than a half-company. Now, perhaps, the few men appeared no more than arrogance, the casual disdain for military pomp of an important figure.
Jian quickly translated.
“The man Lakeham, my lord, is held for his own protection, together with his family and the other American. The Godman behaved with more than normal contempt for proper Chinese ways, my lord, and roused a whole village to anger. Had he been permitted to stay where he was then undoubtedly the men of the village would have killed him, and what would have happened to the family, none wishes to speculate.”
“What did he do, Jian?”
The Prefect signalled to a junior clerk from those gathered to his side. The man presented a bundle of papers to Jian.
“A copy of the legal… depositions, I think you would call them, my lord. These will take some hours, days possibly, to read and make a full translation. I could provide a brief summary within two or three hours, my lord.”
“Express my thanks to the Prefect for his generosity in making these important documents available, Jian. Request that I might be permitted to speak with the Reverend Lakeham. Suggest that it might be appropriate to release him to my custody. His family at least.”
Jian eventually reported that it would not be possible to change the current location of the Lakehams or of the man Daubney. Magnus was howev
er at liberty to speak with them. The family was of no significance and could be dealt with in time; they would come to no harm from the Prefect’s people.
“That is a concession of some significance, my lord. I have offered your thanks and farewell courtesies. We must withdraw now.”
Magnus gave another salute and turned away. A pair of clerks came to his side and led the three back to the courtyard and then across to a large set of apartments immediately next to the Marines’ barracks.
“There will be food, my lord. It is expected that you will wish to speak to Lakeham after you have eaten. The prefect will make himself available to you in the morning, my lord. No delay. He is anxious to achieve an acceptable solution, my lord. He fears as well, I would suggest, that will not be possible. I would expect him to take some, as you say, ‘under the counter’ initiative this evening, my lord. I have informed the clerks of your sense of obligation to the Green Triad and Lord Ping.”
Magnus did not like the implication that he was under the patronage of Lord Ping – it belittled him to an extent, but he was aware that it also placed him inside the nexus of power that operated in parallel with the Qing empire. On balance, to be a client of Lord Ping must be of value to him.
They ate well, lavishly in fact. Magnus was not disturbed by this apparent waste in a land of famine – every scrap that he did not eat would go to the servants and their kin. The more they cooked for him, the better their children would feed that day.
“The Marines have been fed as well, my lord. There is a detachment of guards outside, my lord, to lead you to the accommodation of the missionaries. You should take an honour guard with you, my lord. Six rifles, at least, and the corporal. Wear your revolver.”
Had Jian expected a serious attempt at assassination, he would have requested the whole detachment. It seemed that he thought there might be a demonstration of hatred for the foreigners, but one that would not develop into an attack.
“How far is it?”
“Walking distance, my lord. The man says five minutes at most.”
“In the gaol?”
Jian enquired.
“No, my lord. They are held in quarters of the Prefect’s own soldiers. In his general’s rooms, in fact. In the nature of things, those apartments are deep inside the barracks and impossible to leave unseen.”
“Have you any private word, Jian?”
“Nothing, my lord. That is surprising. I suspect you are to be amazed by some discovery when you meet them, my lord, but I do not know what. There has been nothing from the Prefect and I had expected a present at least, a piece of jade for your collection, perhaps.”
That comment suggested that Jian was aware of the gifts made by Lord Ping, which in turn said that he was in contact with Lord Ping’s Green Triad. That was worth remembering.
Magnus was suitably amazed within the minute of meeting Reverend Lakeham. The man was hopelessly, irredeemably insane.
He entered the general’s quarters - entirely vacated by the military gentleman, not necessarily to his pleasure – and found that the reception room had been changed in its nature. It was now a throne room, converted by placing a dining chair on a table and draping it in a white sheet. The Reverend sat in his splendour, wife and children stood behind him, expressions of terror on their faces, and a servant knelt to his front. The servant was dressed as presumably, a mediaeval bodyguard, bare-chested and with a sword stuck into a great scarlet sash; he was a white man, Mr Daubney, Magnus presumed. The Reverend was evidently no longer a man of peace, for having a pair of Colt’s revolvers at his waist.
Daubney gave a cry of command to Magnus.
“Bow before the Presence of the Lord in China!”
Magnus had retained his guard of honour, preferring not to leave them out of his sight in a barracks containing unknown numbers of possibly hostile soldiers. He nodded to the marines.
“Ready arms. Aim at the pair of them.”
Six Lee Metford rifles and Carter’s Webley revolver covered the pair, to their amaze. They had evidently not considered disobedience to be an option.
“You, Daubney, is it?”
“Yes,” came a whispered reply, followed by a shriek of rage from the throne.
“I gave no permission for speech. Your tongues shall be torn out!”
Magnus ignored the raving madman.
“Daubney, drop your sword to the floor. Now, take the revolvers off that old fool.”
Daubney actually shook with relief. He looked close to fainting, in fact, stumbled as he reached up to the Presence of God.
The Reverend began to scream more orders. Daubney ignored him and took the hand guns, quickly unloading them before passing them across to Magnus.
“How long has he been like this?”
“He has been falling into delusion over some weeks, sir. He shot his cook last week and we have been frightened of him since. It seemed better to go along with him, sir. I obeyed his orders relating to my dress, sir, when he threatened to shoot me next.”
Magnus raised an eyebrow to the missionary’s wife.
“What have you to say, ma’am?”
“He has made dreadful threats, sir. Unmentionable. I am frightened for the girls.”
Magnus nodded and said no more – some things were not to be mentioned.
“You say he killed his cook?”
“Yes, sir. Last week, sir. The Reverend said the cook had tried to poison him.”
Reverend Lakeham found his voice at that moment and began a foul-mouthed rant, shouting, drowning out the others.
“Jian, can you find the general and request the assistance of one of his officers? Be polite. Beg his aid in dealing with an unusual situation.”
Jian nodded and left at the run. He was back with a young man within two minutes.
“This man is a captain, in your army ranks, my lord. He was posted on guard, in case he had to come to your rescue, my lord. The general knows the problem.”
That might, to some extent, be an advantage.
“What is the normal procedure for dealing with the dangerously insane, Jian?”
Jian drew a finger across his throat, a European gesture he had picked up in his studies.
“I doubt we can do that. Can he be placed under confinement? Put into a locked cell in the barracks?”
Jian spoke to the captain, received some emphatic and obvious negatives.
“He is our problem, my lord. We are to deal with him.”
“Can we remove the family to other quarters?”
Another negative. The orders were to keep the foreigners together.
The volume of Lakeham’s shouting rose as he started to formally curse them for offering defiance to the Lord’s Anointed. He had heard Jian address Magnus as ‘my lord’ and regarded this as blasphemy, he being the sole lord of mankind.
“Can we borrow rope and materials for a gag, Jian? If we cannot move him, we should place him under restraint.”
The Chinese captain offered iron manacles as an alternative.
“Taken gladly, Jian.”
The marines wrestled the howling maniac down from his throne and rolled him onto his belly, pinioning his hands behind his back.
“Legs as well, men.”
They put on the irons and stepped out of range as he tried to kick out at them, threshing about on the floor. He bit the hand of one of the marines.
“Jesus!”
“Do not take my name in vain, blasphemer!”
The marine shook his head and stepped a little further back, cradling his bleeding fingers.
The Chinese captain volunteered an iron rod to connect wrist and ankle shackles. Magnus nodded, watched as the raving reverend was made effectively motionless.
“What do we do next, sir?”
“Take him into one of the smaller rooms, Corporal Allen. Lock the door on him.”
Corporal Allen searched quickly.
“No locks, sir.”
“Bugger! Stick him into a room and pu
t a pair of sentries on the door.”
“Two, sir?”
Corporal Allen could not protest the order, merely checked that he had heard correctly.
“Cover, Corporal Allen. If he has a seizure and dies, the pair can stand evidence for each other.”
A single sentry might be blamed, accused of smothering the screaming madman. Two could offer mutual guarantee of good behaviour.
“Mr Daubney! What was your part in this business, sir? You may wish to cover yourself in the presence of females, sir.”
Daubney blushed and apologised, running for shirt and jacket.
He came back more conventionally dressed.
“I came to serve in the mission for a year, sir. To witness for the Lord. I noticed nothing wrong at first, but the past few months have shown increasingly erratic behaviour on the Reverend’s part. All came to a head last month, sir, when the Reverend came into contact with a gentleman of Yangking, a merchant, I believe. Mrs Lakeham may correct me on that.”
The lady spoke in a hushed voice.
“The Chinese man, one Tsu Run, or so I believe, sir, offered to convert his whole family and those dependent on him. In exchange, my poor husband was to use his influence to open some form of trade with San Francisco, using our name to establish a firm in the States, which a Chinese man could not do. To make Tsu Run part of the family by law, he was to wed my daughter.”
The girl nodded confirmation.
“Papa said I must sacrifice myself to save a thousand Chinese souls from the Devil, sir. But I did not want to!”
She was hardly of an age to be wed, Magnus thought. In any case, to give her to a Chinaman was unconscionable. Utterly unacceptable.
Daubney resumed his narrative.
“Reverend Lakeham ordered me to act for him in San Francisco. I was to sail carrying Tsu Run’s money and a first cargo to set up the firm, importing Chinese goods against gold and silver bullion which I was to transport back across the Pacific. I refused, wanting no part in the whole affair, and he disclosed that he was the Second Coming of the Lord and commanded me to serve him. Tsu Run informed me that I would be taken by his people if I left the mission and tried to get help; he said I would die slowly. Reverend Lakeham started wearing his pistols and shot his cook in my presence. I was frightened, sir, and did as I was bidden.”
Chinese Whispers Page 9
