Major Lin spat on the ground. ‘I don’t see why we don’t just apply to Peking for more guns. My troops certainly need them. It’s humiliating to have to deal through a bandit with corrupt Russian barbarians, whom I don’t trust anyway. I’m sorry to be critical, Da Ren, but this is what I think.’
The Mandarin closed his eyes. ‘My dear patriotic Major Lin. How I value your honesty. If only our government had these guns to spare. But they don’t. We are in a precarious position, as you know. Both the Russians and the Japanese want to establish spheres of influence here. The Russians have already moved their troops into great parts of Manchuria, so what can I do but deal with the enemy? We must be thankful that they are corrupt because, through them, we can acquire the weapons we need to protect ourselves against them.’
‘But dealing furtively through a bandit, Da Ren? Is there no other way?’
‘The Black Stick Society and Iron Man Wang have channels to the Russians. Do you have any other suggestions? If you could use your own relationships with the Japanese…’
‘My captors were honourable men, Da Ren.’
‘Of course they were, Major. Even so … But what is happening now?’
A man was struggling through the press of the crowd. Curses and jeers as he passed were beginning to drown the sound of Jin Lao’s recitation. A murmur of anger rippled through the throng as Septimus Millward stepped into the cleared circle. His jacket was torn and a thin trickle of blood could be seen on his forehead. ‘Stop,’ he was yelling, in his deplorable Chinese, pointing his finger at the bewildered Jin Lao, who had ceased reading from his proclamation and was standing with his mouth open. ‘Stop your bad work. God says my son lives. These men,’ he cried, swinging his arm round to point at the equally amazed felons, who were staring up at him from their prostrated positions in the dust, ‘these men are without drums. Without drums I say, in the sight of gods and men.’
Major Lin, quivering with anger, was shouting instructions to his men, who were hesitantly converging on the large blond man who was still screaming his nonsense at Jin Lao. The Mandarin saw him effortlessly shake off the attempts of one of the soldiers to pinion his arms. The crowd itself was showing signs of restlessness, straining against the barrier of Lin’s troops. Vegetables and other missiles were being hurled indiscriminately at the condemned men, the soldiers and Millward. The Mandarin thought he heard the cry, ‘Death to foreign devils!’ and this was confirmed a moment later when it was repeated as a baying slogan by ever larger sections of the mob. He noticed the brothel-keeper’s son, Ren Ren, and some of his cronies on the balcony of the Palace of Heavenly Pleasure on the other side of the square waving their arms and leading the chorus. The Mandarin recognised the incipient signs of a riot.
He rose to his feet pushing aside the umbrella. At the same moment one of Lin’s soldiers hit Millward with the butt of his rifle. He fell, stunned, to his hands and knees. Another soldier clubbed him in the small of the back and he slumped on his face. The knot of soldiers began to beat him as he lay on the ground. The crowd howled.
‘Fire your pistol,’ shouted the Mandarin at Lin.
The sound of the six shots fired in rapid succession froze all activity in the square. One of the soldiers still had his rifle butt raised above Millward’s body. An orange thrown a second before the shots were fired bounced off the head of one of the condemned men and rolled in the sand. The Mandarin stepped into the silence.
‘This madman will receive twenty lashes for disturbing the peace,’ he cried. ‘Take him to the yamen.’
Lin barked an instruction and two soldiers dragged the groaning, bleeding body of Millward out of the square, the crowd respectfully making way.
‘You’ve heard the proclamation. Get on with the execution,’ the Mandarin shouted. The crowd roared with approbation. The executioners with their large blades, naked to the waist, their bodies oiled, stepped into the ring.
‘You are fortunate, Chamberlain Jin,’ said the Mandarin quietly as he passed, ‘that nobody could understand the utterings of that barbarian. When he said that the condemned men were “without drums” he was trying to say that they were “innocent”. You keep that boy hidden, or I will disown you.’
‘Shi, Da Ren,’ said a shaking Jin Lao.
The Mandarin sat back in his chair and reached for his tea. The executioners’ assistants were pulling forward the pigtails of the condemned men to bare their necks for the cut. He saw that the other foreigner was still sitting his horse at the back of the crowd. The disturbance had not affected him: there was a sardonic, almost bored expression on his face. The Mandarin watched him all through the execution. The man’s expression did not alter even when the blades fell, or when the heads were held up, then poled; there was not even a flicker of interest when the crowd rushed forward to grab souvenirs from the carcasses for their medicines. Obviously this was a man of very different mettle from his sentimental friend, the doctor.
‘Ride with me in my palanquin,’ he told Major Lin. ‘The Chamberlain can walk back.’
The drums beat, the horn blared, and the procession moved through the now dissolving crowd out of the square heading back to the yamen.
‘That was more interesting than usual,’ said the Mandarin, when they were bouncing on their way. ‘One never knows what to expect with these missionaries.’
‘If I had my way, all the foreigners would be expelled,’ said Lin.
‘You are a patriot, which is a fine thing,’ said the Mandarin. ‘I am sure that in an ideal world I would share your sentiments. The problem is we need them.’
‘There I cannot agree.’
‘Well, you are young, my friend, and flush with all the virtues. Sadly, when you reach my age, one learns to see the world not as it should be but for what it is. And it is sometimes depressing to consider the depths of expediency one is reduced to in order to achieve an honourable aim. I satisfy myself that as long as my goal is virtuous, then any means are honourable, however wicked they appear.
‘This is a view, incidentally, which my foreign interlocutor, the good Ai Dun Daifu—and he is a good man for all he is a barbarian—cannot hope ever to understand. I learn a lot from my conversations with him. He tells me about the world outside the Middle Kingdom. It is remarkable what technical skills the barbarians have developed, and therefore how apparently powerful they are—but I have also discovered that the foreigner is trained to think in absolutes of right or wrong. Now that is a great weakness in him, and the knowledge of it is immensely valuable to me, quite justifying the tedious hours I have spent in his company. You do agree, I hope, that one should always learn the weaknesses of one’s enemy, for how otherwise would one ever defeat him?’
‘So you do see the foreigners as our enemy?’
‘They are also a means to an end.’
‘I am only a soldier. I do not understand you.’
‘Well, we may hope that they will supply you with guns. Is that not a means to an end? Incidentally, on this subject, you were telling me why you are not able to approach your friends among the Japanese, who, I would remind you, are also foreigners for all you seem to treat them as paragons.’
‘The Japanese are different. They come from the same racial stock as us. How can you say they are like the hairy western barbarians? But I do not like to be reminded of that time.’
‘Why not? It is no disgrace to be made a prisoner in war. And it seems that you learned much from your captivity. I have been impressed by the military techniques you are adopting. If you made friends among your captors, as apparently you did, then perhaps there would be no reason to treat with Iron Man Wang and the Russians. Surely, some of them are corruptible. Most people are.’
‘I told you, the Japanese are honourable. He would never lower himself to smuggle—’
‘He? Ah, yes, the officer who ransomed you. The mysterious captain. What was his name? You once told me of his kindness to you.’
Major Lin, for all the shaking of the palanquin, wa
s sitting at rigid attention, his face a fiercer mask than usual. His voice was tight and formal when he spoke. ‘Please, Da Ren, I do not like to be reminded of those times. I will assist you with Iron Man Wang, or obey any other commands you give me. I am a soldier and will do my duty. I am sorry if I said anything that was disrespectful, or doubted your wisdom in any way.’
The Mandarin smiled. ‘Your secrets are your own, Major. But get me my guns. That is a command … Now what is it? One disturbance after another.’
One of Lin’s soldiers was running by the palanquin, his head bobbing at the window as he kept pace. ‘A foreign devil, Excellency. Foreign devil on a horse, Excellency. Wants to talk, Excellency. Sorry, Excellency.’
‘The insolence.’ Lin’s lip curled angrily. ‘Don’t worry, Da Ren. I will deal with this outrage. Get me my horse,’ he ordered the running man.
‘No, stop the palanquin,’ said the Mandarin. ‘We will meet him.’
Major Lin looked as if he was about to protest, then he leaned out of the palanquin, giving the order to the bearers to stop and deposit their load. One or two bystanders looked on curiously, until Major Lin instructed his men to ring the area to allow some privacy for the meeting. After a moment the European was brought forward. The Mandarin stepped out of the palanquin. ‘This is not the normal procedure for an audience,’ he said. ‘How can I assist you?’
‘Liu Daguang, Da Ren,’ said Manners, clicking his heels and holding his hat to his breast. ‘And Major Lin Fubo. I hope that you will forgive my impropriety in thus interrupting your progress. I applied for an audience at the yamen but was rejected, and I tried to come up to you both before you left the execution ground, but the crowd was too thick. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Henry Manners. New with the railway.’
‘And?’ asked the Mandarin, after a pause. ‘Now you have introduced yourself. Was there anything else?’
‘Well, nothing really pressing for the moment,’ replied Manners, ‘but I did think it important to pay my respects as early as possible after my arrival.’
‘The doctor Ai Dun usually keeps me satisfactorily informed of railway affairs. Is there a reason why I should receive another railway functionary? Apart from the pleasure of your acquaintance, of course.’
‘In a new environment a man is wise to seek relationships of mutual benefit, Da Ren.’
‘Mutual benefit?’
‘Oh, I would certainly hope so.’
His laughing eyes looked directly into the Mandarin’s, who held his gaze. The two of them seemed to be weighing each other.
Major Lin could not contain himself. ‘The impertinence of this barbarian, Da Ren. We should be taking this one for a whipping at the yamen as well.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t really whip the other one either, whatever I told the crowd, because of the extraterritoriality laws,’ said the Mandarin. ‘But as for this one, I think I rather like his impertinence. It shows courage. You are welcome in Shishan, Ma Na Si Xiansheng. Please tell me when you believe we can be of mutual assistance. Call on my chamberlain for an audience.’
‘That I will, Da Ren. Thank you.’
‘There is really nothing more you have to say to me? That’s all you wanted? To introduce yourself? Then I will bid you farewell.’
‘There was just one thing, Da Ren.’
The Mandarin turned on the step of the palanquin.
‘Yes?’
‘A message for Major Lin, actually, from an old friend. Colonel Taro Hideyoshi. He’s been promoted, Major. Sends his warm respects. He’s posted at the Japanese Legation in Peking. Very much looking forward to seeing his old friend again. “In peace as in war,” he asked me to say, and gave me a letter of introduction. Here, sir.’
‘Well, take it, Major,’ said the Mandarin. Lin seemed frozen to the spot. ‘Indeed, Ma Na Si Xiansheng, this is most coincidental. Major Lin and I were only discussing his old friend from that regrettable war a moment ago.’
‘Colonel Taro talks about Major Lin all the time, Da Ren. Speaks of him as his own brother. So much he wants to restore the old relationship. And he’s asked me to help Major Lin in any way I can.’
‘And what sort of help would that be?’
‘That would depend, Da Ren, on whatever Major Lin’s requirement might be. The help could be very substantial, Colonel Taro told me, and involve only the most moderate terms.’
‘I don’t understand what this man is insinuating,’ spat Lin.
‘Oh, I think I do,’ said the Mandarin. ‘How strange that you and I were only just discussing how useful it would be if you renewed your contacts with your old friends.’
‘If only Major Lin and I could meet in more leisurely, and perhaps less conspicuous, circumstances, I would be able to explain in much more detail what his old friend is suggesting,’ said Manners.
‘It is strange that he sends an Englishman as his emissary.’
‘If you would like to check my records with the railway board, you will discover that I have spent many years in Japan training the Japanese officers. I, too, have been a soldier, Major Lin, and like you have lived … shall I say intimately? among the Japanese. I have also formed strong friendships. And is it not friendship that brings us all together today?’
‘I am certain that Major Lin will be delighted to discuss these matters of friendship further with you. I would suggest tomorrow evening at the Palace of Heavenly Pleasure. Is that agreed, Major? Excellent. Well, what an interesting meeting it has been.’
Manners bowed, and the Mandarin climbed into his palanquin.
‘Before you go, Englishman. I have a question for you.’ The Mandarin leaned his head out of the carriage. ‘When the crowd became unruly at the execution, were you not afraid?’
‘Why should I fear when the Mandarin himself was there to impose order?’
‘And if I chose to encourage the antiforeign sentiments of my people?’
‘Then I would trust myself to the wisdom of the Mandarin and his ability to recognise who among the foreigners are China’s friends.’
‘There are some who believe that none of the ocean devils can be China’s friends.’
‘As long as the Mandarin rules in Shishan, then I take comfort in his discernment and protection.’
‘As long as I rule? Is there a suggestion that I might not continue to do so?’
‘I am confident that you will rule for ten thousand years,’ said Manners, with a smile.
The Mandarin laughed. Then he tapped the side of the palanquin, giving the bearers the instruction to lift the poles and continue on their way.
Major Lin was dumb with restrained fury for the rest of the ride, and the Mandarin himself was silent and thoughtful. He only broke the silence once to remark, ‘I have always prided myself on my ability to identify a brigand or a corruptible man. It is intriguing to see the English version. I think you will have an interesting dinner, Major. Make sure that all the comforts of the house are provided. Let your Fan Yimei entrance him with her music.’
It was a good thing that the Mandarin closed his eyes at this point, because Major Lin’s twisted and bitter expression could on no account be described as respectful.
* * *
Ever since the merchant, Lu Jincai, had given the letter to her, Fan Yimei had been in a quandary. He had slipped it to her surreptitiously, stumbling against her when the two had passed each other in the courtyard. ‘Take this for Shen Ping,’ he had whispered, pretending to be drunk and steadying himself by resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know that even the trees in this place have eyes and ears. You are her friend. Read it and you will know what to do.’ And, singing loudly, he had tottered on his way.
Fan Yimei, the letter burning in her bosom, had passed a suspicious Mother Liu, who was standing in the doorway watching Lu leave. ‘What did that man say to you?’ Mother Liu asked.
‘Nothing. Only something lewd. He was drunk,’ Fan Yimei had answered.
Mother Liu grunted. ‘Why are you not with
Major Lin?’ she asked.
‘He wants another pitcher of wine,’ she had told her, truthfully.
‘He will drink away my profits, that man,’ said Mother Liu. ‘Go on. Go and get it, then. Give him one of the watered pitchers. He won’t know the difference at this time of night.’ And mercifully she had let her pass without further questioning.
Fan Yimei dared not open the letter until Major Lin was asleep. He had been angry and brutal all evening, hunched on his chair and drinking with ferocity, barely touching his food. She had asked him what had happened today to make him so morose, but he had only grunted in reply, ordering her to refill his cup. She had attempted to play his favourite tunes on the chin, but he had hurled a cushion at her, and told her curtly to stop. Later, well into the second pitcher, when the drink had taken hold and his words were becoming slurred and incoherent, he began to curse the Mandarin, and the foreign devils, and Iron Man Wang and guns. Once he became violent, pulling her dress by the collar so that it restricted her neck and yelling in her face the baffling threat that if she so much as looked at an Englishman he would kill her. He had immediately become overcome by a fit of sobs, nuzzling his face in her shoulder, and repeating something over and over that sounded like ‘Tarosama. Tarosama.’ It had all made little sense to her. She had finally steered him towards the bed. He had clung to her like a frightened child. After a while he began the first fumblings of drunken lovemaking. She did the best she could, turning over on her stomach and offering him the dog’s position, which she knew he preferred when he was in this state, but the drink had taken away his manhood. She whipped him with the willow twig but it did no good. Eventually he fell asleep.
It was only then that she had looked at the letter Lu had passed to her. It was addressed to Shen Ping with De Falang’s name inscribed below. Holding it close to the candlelight she ran her eyes quickly over the neat calligraphy (she guessed it was in Lu Jincai’s hand). It was elegantly composed, flatteringly written, but the message was uncompromising. A red envelope was enclosed in the folds of the letter. She did not open it. She did not want to know what price had been put on the end of her friend’s hopes.
The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure Page 20
