The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  Han stared at her with feverish eyes. ‘Never again try to leave me,’ he said, following his threat with a stinging slap across her face. ‘I have not finished with you.’

  Naomi bent her head so that Han could not see the tears welling up in her eyes. She did not shed them for her situation so much as frustration at seeing this hated man still alive.

  ‘You can see that I am sick,’ Han said and Naomi could indeed see that he was very ill. His eyes were staring with the fever of the wound she had inflicted. ‘These dogs of men are only waiting for me to die so that they can flee with the rest of the cowards.’ The two heavily armed bodyguards looked away lest their reluctance to remain be seen by their feared commander. ‘Well, they may not have to wait long and I thank the ancestors for delivering you to me so that I may kill you just before I die.’

  Han stumbled to a corner of the room and slumped into a chair. The bodyguards seized Naomi and bound her hands with rope. She was forced down onto her knees as Han slid a sword from his waistband.

  ‘When I feel that the time has come I will cut you many times. Each cut will inflict pain, but will not kill you. That will come when I have grown tired of hearing your screams.’

  Naomi knew that begging for mercy was useless. She could only pray that the infection she had unwittingly inflicted with her bite would kill him before he could carry out his threat. But when she stared up at Han she doubted that would happen. His imminent death would be painful but it would also be slow.

  • • •

  Sporadic fighting still tied down various international forces throughout the city but already looting was occurring. Troops not tied down by the fighting were going from house to house in search of valuable items and treating any Chinese civilians they found as Boxers. Killing and rape accompanied the looting and the reports Robert was hearing from soldiers worried him. If Naomi was still alive in the city she could suffer rape and death at the hands of European soldiers as easily as at the hands of the Boxers.

  ‘Corporal Kent,’ he called to the NCO acting as a clerk collating reports in the room next to Robert’s new office at the British legation building.

  ‘Sir!’ the NCO replied dutifully, leaving his desk to go to his senior officer, crashing to a halt and snapping off a salute.

  ‘I want you to locate a Mr John Wong immediately and inform him that I am extending an invitation for him to report to my office on a matter critical to us both.’

  ‘Sir,’ the corporal replied. ‘Where will I find the gentleman?’

  ‘Either at my old quarters, with the Yank marines or at the hospital where a Miss Gurevich may be able to assist you,’ Robert replied.

  ‘Will do, sir,’ the corporal said, snapping another smart salute before turning on his heel to go in search of Mr Wong.

  Robert rose from his desk and took down the Sam Browne belt from a wooden peg in the wall. The leather shoulder strap and waist belt were much lacking in shine from their constant wear under fire. He slid his revolver from the holster attached, checking the rounds in the chamber. Slipping a box of rounds into a trouser pocket, he gazed out the window of his office to see the thin, pale survivors of the siege pass by wearing the best of the clothes they had been able to stash away. The ladies in particular took great pride in their appearance, Robert noted. He knew that he was organising his search for Naomi on his own authority, and knew that he would get away with it. He would report that he was carrying out a reconnaissance of the city. Whether Sir Claude would accept that he was doing this alone was another matter, but considering his own valuable role in assisting the British diplomat during the siege, Robert also reckoned that the worst he would get would be a mild rebuke for risking his life in a city still not pacified, since small bands of armed Chinese soldiers and Boxers still lurked in the narrow streets and alleyways.

  Robert did not have to wait long, as John was already on his way to his new office when intercepted by the British corporal.

  ‘We are going to find your daughter, Mr Wong,’ Robert greeted John as he entered the office. ‘You and I.’

  John smiled grimly. He was still in possession of the Chinese rifle he had taken possession of at the barricades and had plenty of ammunition. ‘My son, too,’ he added.

  ‘I think that we begin our search where it ended. The house in Lotus Street.’

  Andrew was at the edge of the city with Tung and Meili when he stopped walking, to turn and stare back at the smoke rising behind them from the many buildings still smouldering from the effects of the shelling. ‘I have to go back and face my father,’ Andrew said quietly.

  ‘You will be killed if you attempt to return,’ Tung cautioned. ‘If I know the foreign devils they will be in the mood for vengeance, and anyone who looks Chinese will probably be shot on sight.’

  ‘I have no choice,’ Andrew replied. ‘I could not live with myself if I had not assured myself that my father was unhurt. It is up to me to explain my decision to remain – and not up to my sister to do so.’

  Tung sighed. ‘When you have done so, you will have to make your own way to Kalgan.’

  ‘I will go with Andrew,’ Meili said. ‘I know the road.’

  ‘What is at Kalgan?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘The Empress, and my master, the Son of Heaven will be there,’ Tung replied. Tung had been informed by his men still faithful to him that the Empress had disguised herself as a peasant woman, to flee from the Forbidden City during the night. She had clipped her long nails and taken on the rough, blue clothing of an old peasant woman and travelled in an ox-cart from the city’s walls. The true ruler of China had been forced to accompany his ruthless aunt.

  ‘I will rejoin you in a few days,’ Andrew said. ‘The ancestors willing.’

  Tung nodded and walked away towards the great, treeless plain outside the city walls. He was not alone, but part of a great caravan of Chinese civilians and soldiers fleeing the wrath of the European powers who had once again conquered them.

  With his rifle in his hands, John stood in the deserted courtyard of the house on Lotus Street. The signs of occupation were everywhere, as were the scattered skeletons picked clean by the numerous scavenging dogs.

  ‘It has been some time since anyone was here,’ Robert said, revolver in hand.

  ‘Where now?’ John asked.

  Robert rubbed the sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered with a sigh. ‘It is like looking for a grain of sand on a beach.’

  John slung his rifle over his shoulder and took out the cigar he had been hoarding and sucked in the smoke to steady his nerves. Was he too late? He realised that his hands still shook even though the main fighting was over. Why this should occur was a mystery to him.

  ‘I think that we should return to the legation,’ Robert suggested. ‘It is possible that we may be able to glean intelligence from any captured Chinese we have as to Naomi’s whereabouts.’

  ‘Not much chance of getting information from a dead man,’ John sneered, knowing that the soldiers were rarely taking any Chinese clearly identified as former soldiers or Boxers alive. ‘To do that we would have to capture one ourselves.’

  Robert tended to agree with the Australian. He did not want to admit to himself that he might no longer have the opportunity of seeing the beautiful young woman again, but the possibility was there. Why would a retreating army keep a foreign woman alive?

  ‘We will continue searching,’ Robert said, but with little conviction.

  Until dusk the two men moved cautiously through the city, intercepting patrols of allied soldiers and questioning them about whether they had come across a Chinese woman claiming to be a British subject. None could help and finally even John accepted that they must return to the legation, where he would reassess the search for his daughter.

  The two trudged wearily through the gates now guarded by soldiers of the relief force and John bid Robert a good night to return to his old quarters. He had barely arrived when Corporal
Kent appeared breathless at the front door.

  ‘You got to go over to the hospital, Mr Wong,’ he said. ‘Mr Mumford sends his regards and says that the matter is one of urgency. That is all I can tell you.’

  John snatched up his rifle and hurried into the night. When he reached the hospital his mind raced with the thought that something had happened to Liza. Why else would Robert send him there?

  He entered the building and was met by one of the European doctors who had treated him.

  ‘Ah, Mr Wong,’ the man beamed mysteriously. ‘I think you will find Miss Gurevich in the dispensary.’

  John thanked the man and hurried to a room that had been set aside to store the legation’s precious supply of medical supplies. The door was open and John could see that the room was lit by a lantern. The dim light revealed a sight that caused him to freeze in his tracks. He stared in disbelief. Sitting in a chair was his daughter, and standing beside her was Liza.

  John felt that his legs would buckle. Naomi glanced up at him and, sobbing, flung herself from the chair to embrace her father, crying over and over again the words he had only dreamed of throughout the siege: ‘Father’.

  Liza quietly left the room to leave father and daughter alone.

  ‘She was brought to the hospital by a British patrol,’ Liza said. ‘I immediately recognised who she was.’

  John stood outside a room in a building that had been used by Liza for accommodation. It was near the hospital and had thick mud walls that had kept her safe from stray rounds and shrapnel during the siege. Inside the room, Naomi slept with the help of a sleeping draught.

  ‘How is she?’ John asked, the worry etched in his face.

  ‘She has suffered terrible physical and mental privation,’ Liza replied. ‘And she is with child.’

  The latter statement caused John to gasp. How could that be possible? He did not want to believe the most probable answer.

  Liza could see the pain in John’s face and gently took his hand. ‘It is not a bad thing,’ she attempted to console him. ‘Your daughter is young and with good care will be able to take the pregnancy to full term.’

  John nodded, words eluding him lest he break into tears. But Liza’s gentle touch compensated for the pain he was feeling for his daughter’s suffering.

  ‘I should have been strong and not allowed her to come to China,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘It is my fault that she has suffered so much.’

  ‘It is not your fault,’ Liza said softly. ‘Women have always known the suffering caused by men. But we have a strength that allows us to endure. Your daughter is very much like her father.’

  John folded Liza into his arms, tears splashing her hair. The tough, grizzled old warrior, who had lived a life occasionally interrupted by moments of killing, had reached breaking point. What was important to Liza was that she was with him to provide the comfort he needed at such a time and it sealed in her mind the place she would find in this extraordinary man’s company.

  Throughout the night John sat by his daughter’s bed as she slept, and when she whimpered and trembled he stroked her head, whispering soothing words. Naomi awoke in the early hours of the morning to see her father’s tired face staring down at her and reached up to take his hand.

  ‘I had almost lost hope that I would ever see you again,’ she said. ‘There is much that I must tell you.’

  ‘Only when you feel that it is the right time to do so,’ John replied soothingly.

  ‘I want to tell you everything,’ Naomi said, choking back tears.

  John sat and listened without interrupting as his daughter related all that had befallen her since the moment that she had been captured on the street weeks earlier. But it was the last part of her story that struck him most.

  ‘I should be dead,’ Naomi said with a deep sigh. ‘Han had promised to kill me and I knew he would. But, as he grew sicker, he seemed to change. He gave orders for his bodyguards to leave and it was then that I thought he would kill me. He was near delirious, waving the sword and staring at me with his feverish eyes. Then, he suddenly changed. He started to talk about the child I carry being born to carry his memory forward. He even forgave me for the wound that was killing him. I did not know if he was just taunting me – allowing me to take hope that I would live – but he did not touch me. After a time he slumped into a kind of dazed state and the sword fell from his hands. I lay bound, helpless to attempt any escape, when I heard English voices. A patrol of British soldiers in the street heard my cries of distress and burst inside the room. They saw Han sitting in the chair and one of the soldiers drove a bayonet through his chest. They released me and brought me to the hospital.’

  ‘Is the child you carry Han’s?’ John asked awkwardly.

  ‘I believe so,’ Naomi replied, turning her head away.

  ‘There are ways to dispose of it,’ John said and Naomi turned on her father with an angry look.

  ‘That is my decision,’ she flared, surprising him.

  John shrank back under his daughter’s withering look, understanding that she was a woman with her own ideas and beliefs. ‘I am sorry,’ he said apologetically. ‘I just thought, considering the circumstances …’

  ‘I think that I should sleep again,’ Naomi said and turned her head into the pillow. She had not told her father of Andrew’s decision to remain in China, as that was something she believed only her brother could do in person. When he asked her about Andrew, Naomi shied away from being specific and replied that her brother would eventually meet with his father to tell him of his situation, although in her heart Naomi was not certain this would eventuate. When John pressed her further she continued to be evasive, leaving John with a sick feeling. But grilling his daughter was not an option considering what she had so recently been through.

  John rose from his chair to leave the room. The sun would be rising soon on another hot and humid day. He had one child back safe – if not sound. Now, all he had to do was find his son, and return them both to Queensland. When Liza came to join him he took her in his arms. His siege was not yet over.

  It was against Meili’s better judgment to return to the city and Meili felt afraid. But despite her apprehension she chose to accompany this remarkable young man who brought life and not death to her people and now Andrew walked beside her, clutching a cloth in which he had retained a few precious medical supplies. They were unarmed, but Andrew was confident that any troops from the European powers they might encounter would not fire when he identified himself as a British subject. Meili was not so sure, considering the chaos all around them.

  When they passed through the city gates Meili noticed the ominous lack of people. On the streets were only the decomposing bodies of the dead and the ever-present dogs of the city. As they continued their journey towards the legation area, passing shops and stalls long smashed by looters, she wished that she had Andrew’s courage.

  Meili jumped when she heard a volley of gunshots ahead of them. Andrew paused. It was something about the controlled rate of fire that caused him to wonder where he had heard a similar sound before.

  ‘Execution, firing squad,’ Andrew said quietly in English, causing Meili to stare at him questioningly. ‘It is nothing to fear,’ he said, answering her unspoken question in Chinese.

  Clutching the medical equipment, Andrew continued walking, with Meili following.

  They had only gone a short distance when the steady clop-clop sound of shod horse hooves interrupted the dogs feasting on a human carcass at an intersection of the broad street. The pack of snarling dogs quickly scattered, and Meili suddenly felt a greater fear than before. She knew that it had not been their presence that had frightened off the dogs. And then they both saw the reason for the dogs skulking away.

  ‘Cossacks,’ Andrew said, recognising the colourful uniforms as the mounted squadron of fierce-looking men advanced in disciplined ranks along the street with their lances raised to the sky. ‘They are Europeans. I can request them to escort us to the
British legation,’ he said, confidently turning to Meili. He raised his hands, still clutching his package of medical supplies. ‘British,’ he called in a loud voice. ‘I am a British citizen.’

  The squadron came to a stop to observe the Chinese man and woman standing at the centre of the intersection. Suddenly one of the horsemen spurred his horse into a gallop. Meili could see the deadly tip of the lance come down, pointing directly at them as the Cossack charged, yelling a Russian war cry.

  ‘Run!’ Meili screamed, turning on her heel and sprinting towards the empty stalls without looking back. Panting, she ducked down behind a stall, crawling on her hands and knees into a small space hidden from view.

  With sickening certainty, Andrew realised that he would have to stand his ground, distracting the Cossack from possibly going after Meili, if she were to have a chance to live. That this was an extreme act of courage was not something the young man had time to reflect on before the charging Russian cavalryman was on him.

  From her concealed position Meili could see down the street to where they had been attacked. She burst into a deep sobbing, hardly caring that the mounted foreign devils would find her. A Cossack on his horse was pinning Andrew’s body to the ground with his long lance. Why had he not attempted to flee? The question screamed in her mind. Why had Andrew stood his ground in the face of certain death?

  Meili remained hidden as the mounted Russian troops continued their advance along the street, searching for Chinese. After all, any Chinese who had not been inside the legation quarter during the siege could logically be seen as enemy combatants.

  When the patrol had clattered away, Meili cautiously returned to where Andrew lay on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. She could see the ghastly wound to his chest that had been inflicted by the point of the lance and she kneeled, rocking as she sobbed her despair at losing this remarkable man, who had carried in his hands the means to heal her people. When she could mourn no longer, Meili reverently picked up the blood-soaked package and continued towards the legation. If nothing else she would complete the mission that Andrew had set out on and meet with his father.