by Gai-Jin(Lit)
"How did the fire start?"
"A foreigner threw a rag against the wall,
Sire."
"Dog's shit, all of them! You will make a report and explain the cause of this disturbance.
By tomorrow, shoya."
"Yes Sire."
The officer, a pockmarked man of thirty-odd, peered into the shop. "Where's the other man?"
"Sire?"
"The other man. The Japanese who was chased in here by the gai-jin?" he said irritably. "Hurry up!"
The ashigaru bowed politely, "So sorry, sir, there was no one else here."
"I distinctly saw him rush in here--he was carrying swords." He turned to his men.
"Who saw him?" They stared back at him uneasily and shook their heads. His face reddened. "Search the shop at once!" The search was thorough and produced only the shoya's family and servants who knelt and bowed and stayed kneeling. They denied seeing anyone. A moment of silence then Tyrer and McFay were dumbfounded to see the officer suddenly lose his temper and begin raving at them.
Stoically the ashigaru and all the soldiers stood at attention, rigid, the villagers on their knees, heads to the ground, trembling under the tongue-lashing. Without warning he stepped up to the ashigaru and belted him backhanded around the face.
The man stayed as impassive as he could under the flurry of blows and invective. At the officer's shrieked command the shoya was instantly on his feet and stood unflinchingly while the frenzied man beat him as cruelly around the face, the women and children trying not to wince at every blow, yet motionless.
As suddenly as the beatings had begun they stopped. Both men bowed deeply, their faces now welted. Again the shoya knelt. Formally the officer bowed back, all traces of the tirade gone. His men formed up and he led them towards the North
Gate as though nothing untoward had happened.
Tyrer and McFay stared after them blankly. In a moment, when it was correct to do so, the shoya got up, the women and children went into the house, and he began to supervise the repair to the wall.
Village activity in the street picked up.
"What the devil was all that about?" McFay said.
"I don't know." Tyrer said, both of them shocked at the brutality and its impassive acceptance. "I only caught a word here and a word there--think it was to do with Nakama, I think they all said he'd never been there."
"That's impossible--I know he was inside that hut. I saw him myself." McFay mopped his brow. "Apart from that, why take all that from that bastard? He was a lunatic. And look at them now, acting as though nothing happened. Why?"
"I don't know--perhaps Nakama can explain."
Tyrer shuddered. "I'll tell you one thing, I'm damned if I'd like to be in their power. Ever."
"Hello, Angel, how are you?"
"Hello, darling, I'm, I'm much better, thank you." Angelique smiled wanly as
Struan came in and shut the door. She was propped up by pillows in her bedroom in the
French Legation, the late afternoon sun coming nicely through the window and the shadow of a guard now permanently stationed outside.
In the early hours of this morning when Struan had rushed--hobbled--to her side, she had resisted his entreaties to move, enough in command of herself to remember that she must stay here because tonight Andr`e
Poncin would deliver the medicine that would deliver her from evil. No, not evil yes from evil, she had wanted to shout, Andr`e's going to deliver me from the evil I carry and from the evil I've done.
"Oh mon Dieu, Malcolm, I am all right and don't want to move!"
"Please don't cry, my darling, please."
"Then leave me be, it's all right,
Malcolm, I'm quite safe, I always was safe and
Doctor Babcott has given me something to stop this shaking, haven't you, Doctor?"'
"That's right, Malcolm," Babcott had said, "and please don't worry,
Angelique's perfectly all right, she'll be right as rain when she wakes up. It would be better not to move her. Not to worry."
"But I bloody do!"
"Tonight, perhaps she can move bac--"'
"No," she had whimpered, tears spilling,
"not tonight, perhaps tomorrow."
Thank God for tears, she thought again as she watched Malcolm plod over to the bed, knowing that this
Heaven-given weapon against men, thought to be a weakness, was a mighty shield. His smile was fine but she noticed the dark rings under his eyes that seemed strange and an air of weariness.
"I dropped by earlier but you were dozing and I didn't want to disturb you."
"You would never disturb me." His concern and love was so open and so deep that she had to fight to keep quiet and not helplessly scream the truth.
"Don't worry, my dear one, everything will be wonderful soon, I promise."
He sat in a chair beside the bed, telling her about the near-riot and how Sir William had stopped it so quickly. "He's a good man in many ways," he told her, but he was thinking: not in others. He and Norbert had been forewarned about their summons into his presence tomorrow morning. At once they had met privately: "It's none of
Wee Willie's bloody business,"
Norbert had agreed sourly, "let him concentrate on Japanners and getting the fleet back! Listen, the intruder, I hear you identified him as one of old Canterbury's murderers, the other Tokaid@o bastard?"'
"No I didn't, I think he was a different man though he'd certainly been shot.
Hoag said he was the same one he operated on at Kanagawa."
"Why was he at her window, eh?"'
"I don't know--it's weird. Just a thief
I suppose."
"It's right weird. A Catholic too.
Weird..."
Struan saw that Angelique was waiting for him to continue and he wondered if he should bring the subject out into the open, the why of that man, to ask for her ideas and give her his, but she looked so tiny and defenseless that he decided to wait for another time and another day--the sod's dead whoever he was and that's that. "When I come back after dinner
I'll bring the latest Illustrated London
News, there's a great article about the latest
London fashions..."
Angelique listened with half an ear, avoiding the clock on the mantelpiece that tick-tocked the minutes delicately. Andr`e had told her he would return from the Yoshiwara about nine that evening, that she should have a pot of warm green tea ready, and something sweet to eat as the mixture might be foul-tasting. Also some towels, and it would be best not to take any more of
Babcott's sleeping draft.
She glanced at the clock. 6:46. It's so long, the waiting, she thought, her anxiety increasing. Then the inner voices became alive again. Don't worry, they whispered, the hours will quickly pass and then you are free, don't forget you won, Angelique, you were so brave and so clever, you did everything perfectly--don't worry about anything, you lived and he died and it was the only way you, or any woman, could have lived--soon you will be free, of him, of it, and all that has gone before will be no more than a bad dream...
I'll be free, thank God thank God.
The relief surged through her. She smiled at him. "How handsome you look, Malcolm. Your evening clothes are perfect."
Her warmth jerked him out of his gloom, everything dreadful surrounding him--except her. He beamed. "Oh, Angel, if it wasn't for you I think I'd explode." Tonight he had taken much trouble to select the right silk evening clothes and the finest doeskin half-boots, pure white silk ruffled shirt and white cravat with a ruby pin that his father had given him on his last birthday, his twentieth, May 21/. Only six more months and then I am free, he thought, free to do whatever
I like. "You're the only thing that keeps me sane, Angel," he said and his smile banished the last of her devils.
"Thank you, my darling," she said.
"Explode? Why?"
"It's just business," he said, matter-of-fact, avoiding the real issues.
"Damned politicians are messing up our markets in their usual, obsessive pursuit of personal power, money and advancement, it never changes no matter what country, creed or color. Overall the Noble House is in fine fettle, thank God," he told her, sluffing over the crisis they were facing in Hawaiian sugar and Brock's increasing stranglehold over
Struan's markets and borrowing facilities.
Yesterday an openly hostile letter arrived from the
Victoria Bank, Hong Kong's central bank and Brock-dominated, a copy of one sent to Tess Struan, Managing Director,
Struan's, his copy addressed, M. Struan
Esq., Yokohama, For Information Only:
Madam: This is just to remind Struan's it has ignoble debts, and too much paper supported by questionable assets and ignoble profits, the most of which paper becomes due January
31/, and to inform you, Madam, again, that repayment of all said highly unationoble paper the Bank owns is required on due date. I have the honour to be, Madam, your obedient servant.
Never mind those poxy bastards, he thought with certitude, I'll find a way to outsmart them and all the Brocks. Killing Norbert will be a good beginning. Our managers and staff are excellent, our fleet's still the best and our captains loyal.
"Never mind the Brocks and the rumors,
Angel, we can deal with them, we always have. The
American civil war has boosted our profits enormously. We're helping the South to run cotton through the Northern blockade for our
Lancashire mills and bringing back all the powder, shot, guns and cannons that Birmingham can make, half for the South, half for the North--with everything else our factories can invent and provide, machinery, presses, and shoes and ships and sealing wax. British output is gigantic, Angelique, more than fifty percent of the world's industrial goods. Then we've our tea trade and Bengali opium to China, a bumper crop this year--I've an idea how to buy Indian cotton to boost the American lack--and together with all our usual cargoes...
England is the richest and most prosperous country on earth and you're beautiful."
"Thank you kind sir! Je t'aime--I really do love you, Malcolm, I know I'm very difficult but I do and I'll make you a wonderful wife I promise an--"
He had heaved himself out of his chair and stopped her with a kiss--his strong cigar smell and pomade manly and pleasant. His arms embracing her were muscular and strong, one hand straying to her breast and she felt its heavy roughness, his lips hard with the faintest taste of brandy. Just the opposite to him.
Forget him, the voices whispered.
I can't, not yet.
Bending over her like this was a dreadful strain on his wounded back and stomach muscles so he straightened with an effort though he would have gladly taken her now--had he her acquiescence--whatever the pain. "The sooner we're married, the better," he said, sure that he had felt her lips and breast and body respond.
"Oh yes, please yes."
"Christmas. That's only next month."
"Do you think... sit down, my darling, and rest a moment. Should we discuss... when should we return to Hong Kong?"
"I, I haven't decided." Much of his bonhomie went at the thought of having to face his mother.
"Perhaps we should go back next week an--"
"Not till I'm fit." And off the painkiller, he thought, his insides grinding, then
I can deal with her and Brock and the bloody bank.
Just before coming here he had had the second dose of the day, earlier than usual.
I'll have a last one before sleeping, then tomorrow start fresh. Once a day from now on. Couldn't start today--last night and the problem with Norbert and
... well, yesterday was especially rotten.
"Don't trouble your lovely head."
"But I worry over you very much. Malcolm,
I'd never want to interfere with anything, but I do worry about you. And there is something that I feel I must mention," she said carefully. "The trouble between you and Jamie. Isn't there anything I--"
His sudden smile stopped her. "Jamie's all right now, my darling. That's today's good news.
This evening I sent for him and he apologized for being difficult. He even renewed his oath to support me in everything. Everything."
"Oh, that's wonderful, I'm so pleased."
Just before coming here Jamie McFay had asked to see him. "Sorry to interrupt you, but I wanted to clear the air and try to make a peace and try, a last time, to dissuade you from the duel:
Norbert will surely try to kill you."
"Sorry, but it's none of your affair, and
I'll certainly try to kill him. I agree it's a good idea to clear the air, once and for all: Jamie, will you obey me as tai-pan or are you going back on your holy oath?"'
"Yes, I will obey the tai-pan as I swore."
"Good. After we see Sir William tomorrow, secretly ask Norbert if next Wednesday suits him--yes, Jamie, I know it's his birthday. The racecourse, behind the stands, first light. On your head keep it secret, don't even tell Dmitri."
"If you kill him you'll have to leave
Japan quickly."
"I've thought about that. Our clipper Storming
Cloud will be in the roads. We'll board her and go to Hong Kong. There I can, well, arrange matters whatever happens."
"I hate this whole idea."
"Yes, but never mind. You remember your oath and will stick by it?"'
"Yes."
"Thank you, Jamie. Let's be friends again
..."
Through his haze of excitement, he heard
Angelique saying, "Oh how happy that makes me," and had to make an effort not to burst out with the news that he had set a date for the duel, when his own revenge on the House of Brocks, at long last, would begin. Angel will know soon enough and be proud of me, he thought confidently. "No need to worry about Jamie, my darling, or about Hong
Kong. Anything."
"Malcolm, dear, may I please write to your Mama?" she asked, knowing that she must begin to bring the enemy to battle. Andr`e had warned her that Tess Struan's power within the company was immense, and influence over Malcolm, his brother and sisters, equally vast, reminding her that he was a minor, therefore without her approval the marriage could not take place for months, and without her benevolence might never happen. As if I needed reminding, she thought. "I want to assure her of my undying affection and my promise to become the best daughter-in-law in the whole wide world."
He beamed at the idea. "Excellent!
I'll write one too and we'll send them off together." He took her hand. "No woman so stunning as you, should also be so thoughtful and kind. I know she's going to love you as much as I do."
Again Hiraga said, "When gai-jin run away, shoya say me to go quick'ry--he very
'fraid of the samurai, very 'fraid."
"I can believe that." Tyrer shifted in his chair, Hiraga opposite him, uncomfortable too. The sitting room of the small bungalow in the Legation grounds that Tyrer shared with Dr.
Babcott was sparsely furnished, with a few chairs, two desks and the smell of ointments and salves from pots of medicaments on shelves lining one wall. Windows were open to the night and though it was not cold Hiraga shivered, still unsettled by his near capture. The moment the rioters had rushed away and he could escape the back way he had told the shoya and ashigari,
"You know what'll happen if I'm caught here!
Better silence, better silence and a quick beating that will soon be forgotten than a trek to prison which none of us--or your wife and children--will survive.
Sonno-joi!"
Tyrer was saying, "But I don't understand why one moment that officer was sane, the next a brute, and the next sane again with everyone pretending nothing had happened."
Hiraga sighed. "All so simp're,
Taira-san. The captain sure ashigari 'ried
... sure not say truth, and shoya not say truth, and men not say truth so he beat them to save face--not say truth
to samurai is very bad, against 'raw, so very bad. Punishment correct so everyone happy, no more prob'rem."
"Maybe for them," Tyrer said gloomily, "but we have lots of problems. Sir William isn't at all happy, either with the rotter who was killed--or with you."
"I no prob'rem, I not attack, men attack me."
