The War of the Dragon Lady

by John Wilcox

  Alice decided to probe. ‘And yet, of course,’ she said, ‘the Boxers and the people in court here who support them would blame the missionaries for so much of that intervention.’

  ‘Certainly not!’ The old lady’s tone expressed extreme indignation. ‘It is not the men of God who have claimed large territories of China for their own commercial ends. It was not the missionaries who encouraged the growing and selling of opium here. No. It was the politicians and empire-builders back home in Europe who made money from that loathsome trade and who have been competing against each other for years to acquire large swathes of this wonderful country, taking advantage of China’s weak and corrupt central government to do so.’

  She leant forward to make her point. ‘You know, Alice, dear Edward had a basic sympathy for the Boxers. He felt that they were – they are – just a bunch of uneducated young men, simple peasants, who felt that they had to stand up against this Western imperialism. No. It was their unthinking brutality, their primitive violence, that he abhorred, not their basic motives.’

  Alice had never heard her aunt express these kinds of views before – indeed, she had never heard her discuss politics of any sort. But she was beginning to see what had influenced Gerald’s thinking. Now, she must gently steer the conversation back to him.

  ‘So Gerald was influenced by his father in adopting his views?’

  Mrs Griffith frowned. ‘Well, not exactly. Gerald was always much more nationalistic than Edward in his thinking. And,’ the frown deepened, ‘I am afraid that there was a gulf between him and his father in later years. They did not speak together very much. It was very sad.’ She returned to her sewing.

  ‘How, then, did Gerald acquire his views?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t really know. He read many books of Chinese history – in their original Mandarin, of course – and he began mixing with a rather regressive … I think that would be the word … group in the court here.’ She looked up and stared into the middle distance, reflectively. ‘He’s quite a good talker, a debater, you know.’

  ‘I wouldn’t doubt it. But, Aunt, what will he make of his life now? The Great Powers will never let this siege go unpunished. Whatever happens to us here, there will be a terrible revenge invoked against the Manchu court and the government. Given his views and his ethnicity, would there be a place for him in the Chinese foreign service? Would the Empress – should she keep her throne after the war – want a foreigner like him to serve her and, indeed, would the ambassadors and ministers of the powers want to deal with someone like him?’

  Mrs Griffith looked surprised at the question. ‘Why ever not? He will have done nothing wrong at all in this business. He would be just the sort of young man to enter the service and help to build bridges between China and the great nations.’

  Alice nodded. So ‘he will have done nothing wrong’! Her aunt clearly had no doubt about her son’s basic loyalty to his country – his real country. Or was it his real country? Surely a man could decide to give his patriotism to the land in which he was born and in which he had grown up. After all, Gerald had never visited England. His parents were the only influences in his life to steer him towards allegiance to Britain and its empire. And they were completely dedicated to their work in China, an empire with a civilisation and history far longer than that of those small islands off the mainland of Europe. Alice gave a tiny shrug. She could go no further with Mrs Griffith. Her mind’s eye once again threw up the distinctive image of the man in the white suit behind the Chinese barricade. She must discover his identity. If Gerald was a spy for the Chinese court then he was a source of great danger to the defenders of the legations. The only thing to do was to question the man himself. But – again – she had to tread warily. He must not be warned that he was under suspicion. She would catch him when his guard was down.

  Gerald Griffith, however, never seemed to lower his guard, nor keep to a fixed schedule. All of the able-bodied men in the Quarter were expected to play their part in the defence, but there was no mobilisation, no formal allocation of responsibilities, except to the men and women of some standing who joined the various committees set up by Sir Claude to direct the logistics of the defence. Those down the line who shirked did become the subject of social approbation but, somehow, Gerald escaped all that. His profile, of course, was not high, unlike that of the cordially detested French minister, and he kept to himself, slipping beneath the gaze of authority, quietly reading his Chinese texts, coming and going at odd times. An evasive, slippery figure.

  So it was not until three days later that Alice was able to accost her cousin. She had decided that, if he did find her attractive, despite their age difference, then, indeed, she would deploy that weapon to detain and even, perhaps, intrigue the young man – Alice had never been averse in her work to using her good looks to gain a professional advantage. As a result, catching a glimpse of him sitting reading that evening in the shade cast by the hospital, she rushed to her room, applied a little face powder and rouge and a touch of her precious perfume, and emerged to walk by him, so innocently.

  ‘Ah, Gerald,’ she smiled. ‘I have not seen you for ages. May I sit with you for a minute? I think there is room on that log and that shade looks so cool.’

  Gerald Griffith looked up and distinctly blushed. ‘Of course,’ he said, standing and taking the hand she offered to help her sit. ‘I was … er … just reading.’

  ‘So I see. What is the book?’

  He snapped it shut and shuffled uneasily on their makeshift bench. ‘Oh, just something from Father’s old library. It wouldn’t interest you. It’s Chinese philosophy. I hardly understand it myself.’ He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.

  Alice put a hand on his arm. ‘You know, Gerald, I am so sorry about your dear father’s death. Do you miss him dreadfully?’

  He looked at her from the corner of his eye and, almost imperceptibly, edged closer to her on the log, so that their thighs touched. She did not move away. ‘Oh … er … yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Although, I have to confess that in the last few years we were not close, you know.’ He held up the book. ‘I think he became annoyed that I did not follow his faith. I am studying the Shinto religion, you see.’

  ‘Ah, how interesting.’ She gave him a sidelong look. He was wearing a two-piece suit of dark-grey cotton. ‘You always look so smart, Gerald. Goodness gracious, how many suits did you bring with you?’

  He gave a slightly embarrassed smile. ‘Oh, only two. The other one is a white flannel. But it is too hot, really, and it gets dirty so quickly here, of course.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Tell me, my dear, what do you do with yourself all day under these difficult conditions?’

  ‘Well I mainly study. And sometimes go for a walk.’

  ‘Walk? But there is hardly anywhere to go. We are so restricted here.’

  ‘Oh, I find places.’

  The firing from the Fu suddenly rose in intensity and then fell away again. ‘Another attack on the Fu,’ observed Alice tentatively.

  ‘Oh, I doubt it,’ said Gerald airily. ‘The Chinese there have dropped their direct attacks and decided that a process of attrition is the best way forward. With so few Japanese facing them they feel it is only a question of time before they wear down the defences there. It is better to snipe than to charge across in the open, you see.’

  ‘Really. How do you know that, Gerald?’

  He looked uneasy for a moment. ‘Oh, I hear these things, you know. And it is just common sense, really.’

  They fell silent for a moment. Then he looked directly at her. ‘Have you heard from Simon?’

  The question threw her for a moment. She had never discussed his absence with Gerald – nor with anyone, for that matter, except her aunt. ‘No, I have not, nor did I expect to.’

  He looked smug. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would, would you? Nothing gets through now from Tientsin.’

  She whirled round on him. ‘How would you know where he was going?’


  A smile of self-satisfaction spread across the young man’s face. ‘Good gracious, cousin. Everyone knew that he, Chang and that ludicrous Welshman were trying to slip through the lines and impress the Foreign Powers at the coast of the need to send another relief force.’

  Alice looked hard at her cousin. ‘Everyone knew, Gerald? I have told no one. Who do you mean by “everyone”?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘A lot of people. Anyway, I saw them go.’

  ‘Gerald, they left in the middle of the night. What were you doing out at that time? Were you spying on them?’

  ‘Oh, I was just out walking. I don’t spy.’

  ‘How did you know where they were going?’

  For the first time the young man looked uncomfortable. ‘Oh, I just put two and two together. It was not difficult to presume that that was where they were going. They were dressed as Kansu soldiers. The Chinese certainly presumed that that was where they were heading.’

  ‘The Chinese?’

  Gerald had now regained his composure. He seemed now to be revelling in his knowledge. ‘Oh yes.’ The pressure on Alice’s thigh had now increased. ‘You would be surprised at what I know, cousin. I have very good friends in high places beyond these walls, you know.’

  Alice drew in a deep breath. She was amazed at his indiscretion. He was clearly keen to impress her and she decided to play along with his arrogance. ‘You amaze me, Gerald. You mean you have contact with the people who are besieging us?’

  ‘Oh, yes. They have confidence in me and I work at their friendship because I am sure that, when this ridiculous siege is over, I can be useful to both sides in settling the peace.’ He took up her hand. ‘I will be able to help you and Mother by interceding with the Chinese authorities, Alice. You can trust me.’

  She gently withdrew her hand. ‘Thank you. But you said that the Chinese knew about Simon’s mission. How did they know, Gerald?’

  The shifty look came back into his eyes. ‘Oh, everybody knew,’ he said vaguely. Then he picked up her hand again and faced her directly. His face took on a serious and troubled mien, that of a much older man, concerned for her. ‘You must reconcile yourself, dear Alice, to the fact that Simon will not return, you know. The Kansus sent off three cavalrymen to apprehend the three of them and, if they resisted, to kill them. This was some time ago, so I am very much afraid that that is probably what happened. I am so sorry.’

  Alice felt the blood drain from her face. She drew in a deep breath. She must retain control. She gripped the hand holding hers. ‘Gerald, can you really find out what has happened to Simon? I need to know.’

  ‘Oh, I expect so. Yes, of course. I will ask my friends. They should know by now.’ The old arrogance came back to his face. ‘They were so stupid, you know, Simon and the Welshman, to set out like that, expecting that my so-called brother could guide them to Tientsin.’

  ‘What do you mean, your “so-called-brother”? Surely, he is your brother, even though he is adopted?’

  Gerald shook his head vigorously. ‘No, he is not. He is just the son of some backward peasants that were killed. My parents took him in. He is really stupid, with his affected accent and silly British words. He tries to be what he is not. He should be proud to be Chinese. There is no need for him to ape the British. It is preposterous. And he is so young.’ His mouth turned down in contempt. ‘He is the last person to guide anyone to Tientsin, let alone conduct them through the Chinese army. He is just a silly, young boy.’

  Alice felt that she could not stand very much more of this. How sure could he be that Simon was dead? He did not sound altogether convinced. But she must not let her emotions take over. She must continue to indulge him, however odious the task. She pressed his hand and then withdrew her own.

  ‘Well, thank you, Gerald. Yes, please do find out what you can about Simon.’ She let her voice then assume a tone of admiration and wonder. ‘It sounds as though you go freely into the Chinese lines. How on earth do you do that? It must be extremely difficult.’

  He seized her hand again. ‘Oh no. It’s not all that difficult, if you know what I know. People do it all the time. There is a secret place that is used for smuggling. I will show you, if you like.’

  ‘Oh yes. Please do.’

  Gerald then had a moment of doubt. ‘Well, I will, of course. But you must not tell anyone. Will you promise me that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Very well. We could go tonight. I could introduce you to some of my friends, if you like.’

  ‘Yes, please do. That would be most interesting.’

  He looked around him. He had suddenly become a furtive adventurer. ‘We had better make it after dark. Shall we meet here an hour after nightfall?’

  ‘Good, I shall be here.’

  ‘So will I.’ He now adopted a proprietorial air. ‘You will see and hear things tonight that will interest you greatly. I promise.’

  Alice freed her hand and stood. ‘Thank you, Gerald. Until tonight, then.’

  His eyes were glowing as he answered, ‘Until tonight, then, cousin.’

  Walking away, Alice thought of her husband. Was he dead? She tossed her head defiantly. Of course not! Simon Fonthill was indestructible. But she wished – oh, how she wished! – that he was here to deal with this odious young man, her own cousin!

  CHAPTER TEN

  Within fifteen minutes of crossing those two hundred or so yards of no man’s land and then climbing the bales of wool, silk, cotton and peanuts that formed the main part of the French line defending the settlements, Fonthill found himself sitting facing the senior British officer at Tientsin, Brigadier General Dorward. Jenkins and Chang had been ushered away to be given soup – alas, not onion, but thin gruel – and Simon, wrapped once again in his Kansu coat, was telling his story.

  ‘Seymour is where, did you say?’ barked the brigadier.

  ‘Only about six miles from you, upriver. He is holed up in this great Chinese arsenal. He has plenty of supplies because he has captured them, but he is completely surrounded by Tung Fu-hsiang’s forces, his command is severely depleted and he can’t fight his way out. Can you relieve him?’

  ‘My dear … what’s your name again, sir?’

  ‘Fonthill.’

  The brigadier leant forward. ‘My dear Fonthill, we are not in a position to relieve anyone.’

  Simon blinked. ‘But the siege of the settlements has been lifted, hasn’t it? I saw the Kansus retreating. Haven’t thousands of Russians arrived from the coast?’

  ‘No bloody fear. Look. We only had two thousand four hundred men to start with – to defend a five-mile perimeter against a force that we estimate to be at least twenty thousand. More came in and then we managed to get a message through to Taku, a twelve-hour ride away, through country thick with Chinese troops. Bless ’em, they responded and scraped the barrel – or rather, the ships – to produce a mixed bag of Russians, Germans, Americans and a few British. They have fought every inch of the way and managed to get through this morning.’

  He wiped a hand across his chin, scraping his whiskers. ‘What this means, my dear fellow, is that we have not been relieved. We have been merely reinforced. Our defenders have been supplemented, thank God, but I can’t see us breaking out of here to relieve anyone. These people surrounding us are not a bunch of Boxers. They are the Kansus, fierce fighters, as we have found out, and an organised army, well equipped with artillery.’

  ‘But I saw the Kansus retreating.’

  ‘Not retreating. Regrouping.’

  A silence descended on the room to be broken, ominously, by the boom of Chinese cannon. Weary and hungry, Fonthill felt his heart sink. He had, it seemed, escaped from the frying pan into the fire. What hope for the Peking defenders now, with the military forces of the so-called Great Powers cooped up within rings of Chinese bayonets? He sighed.

  ‘But Brigadier,’ he said, his voice low, ‘I have explained that the situation in Peking is becoming desperate. I don’t know how long
the people there can continue to defend the legations but it can’t be long. We can’t sit here and wait for them to be overwhelmed.’

  The brigadier had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘reports have come out from … Shanghai, I think it is, that they have already … er … capitulated. Mind you,’ he hurried on, ‘these are unsubstantiated.’

  Fonthill put his brow in his hands. ‘Oh my God. My wife is still there.’

  ‘Ah, my dear chap.’ Dorward put out his hand and touched Simon’s arm. ‘I am so sorry. Let me repeat that these are just rumours, and you know what China is like for rumours. Such a huge country with such poor communications. Almost sure to be rubbish.’

  Simon looked up. ‘Who is in command here?’

  ‘Well … ah … nobody, really. That’s the trouble, y’see. We are such a mixture. The Russians have got the most troops here but, theoretically, I suppose I am the senior officer. Look here, Fonthill. All is not lost. Let me talk to the senior chap amongst these new arrivals – Russian, almost certainly – and let us see if we can get a force to break out and get to this arsenal place. You are quite right, the effort should be made.’

  ‘Thank you, Brigadier.’

  ‘However,’ Dorward mused for a moment. ‘There is no way we could strike north for Peking without taking the Chinese City of Tientsin first. It’s a walled city of about a million people and it completely dominates the way north. We estimate that it is defended by about twelve thousand Imperial troops, with something like ten thousand Boxer auxiliaries. All of which doesn’t mean to say we can’t knock ’em over. Now, could you lead us to this arsenal place, d’yer think?’