Anthony Grey

by Peking- A Novel of China's Revolution- 1921-1978 (epub)

  The tutor smiled again at Felicity and held out the pad for her inspection — but she scarcely glanced at the newly written character, lowering her head instead to hide a faint flush that had sprung to her cheeks. When Li turned to show Jakob the pad, he peered good-humoredly at each part of the character, nodding his head vigorously in approval, unaware of Felicity’s sensitivity.

  “So I hope you have sensed something of the mystery of the dawn hour in Peking,” said the tutor, packing his writing materials in his satchel arid rising to his feet. “It is not advisable to linger too long on such rare occasions. The magic moments are fleeting.” The Chinese tucked his hands into his sleeves and inclined his head to each of them in turn. “Until we meet again.”

  Jakob and Felicity watched in silence as the silk-robed figure of the Chinese scholar merged into the shadows of the gnarled pines and cypresses that bordered the narrow path along the ridge. The fluted trill of a songbird sounded from one of the four ornamented lodges that flanked the Pavilion of Eternal Spring and cicadas whirred softly in the nearer trees. Below, the lotus—spangled moat around the Forbidden City and the three lakes that the Manchu emperors had excavated outside its western wall sparkled silver-blue in the strengthening glow of the sun, providing a dramatic color contrast with the magenta walls of the palaces and their glazed roofs of fiery yellow.

  “I think this is one of the most beautiful mornings of my life,” murmured Felicity as she put away her writing materials. “I’m very glad, Jakob, that you were here to share it with me.”

  “I’m very glad too.” Jakob filled his lungs appreciatively with the cool air and smiled happily at Felicity.

  She was wearing a dress of peach gingham and low-heeled navy oxfords, and her hair, carefully parted at the side, was drawn back in a tidy knot at the nape of her neck. She was composed again and Jakob saw only the gentle, serious expression that had become so familiar to him during the past three months. They were still seated several feet apart on the long bench of carved teak and for some moments Felicity neither moved nor spoke; then she turned suddenly to face Jakob, her earnest gray eyes engaging his directly.

  “You do understand, Jakob, don’t you,” she said with an edge of nervousness in her voice, “that I’ve surrendered my life completely to the Lord? I believe God called me to China for a reason which will be made clear in due course. Nothing can ever come before that loyalty.”

  “Yes, of course I understand,” said Jakob, smiling uncertainly. “I’ve never thought otherwise for a minute.”

  The moment he had spoken Felicity half turned from him to stare down at the distant palaces. He saw at once that his casual answer had had a disturbing effect on her. Bright spots of color burned in her pale cheeks, betraying her inner disquiet, and Jakob realized then that she must have assumed wrongly that they shared deep feelings for one another. No intimacies had ever been exchanged or even hinted at between them, although a strong bond of friendship had begun to grow during the railway journey from Shanghai, and Jakob found himself at a loss for words.

  “I think Mr. Li said it was advisable not to linger here too long,” said Felicity awkwardly, picking up her satchel. “I ought to be going.”

  Jakob jumped to his feet, concerned that she should not be offended. “I’ll come with you, Felicity. Let’s go together.”

  “No, please, there’s no need. I’d like to walk alone for a bit.”

  Felicity hurried away down the path, leaving Jakob staring after her. The sun was growing stronger and the pines brushed the curved eaves of the pavilion in the breeze, making a gentle rustling sound — but Jakob no longer saw the beauty of the morning. Feeling ill at ease, he sat down again on the bench, resting his chin thoughtfully on his hand, and watched Felicity until she disappeared from sight among the trees.

  11

  Over the next few days Peking’s autumn skies remained a peerless blue but to Jakob’s dismay Felicity avoided him outside of their study classes. At the end of each lesson she hurried away on one pretext or another and he found himself alone and sometimes lonely, with time on his hands. His own sense of discomfort grew as he realized how much distress and embarrassment Felicity must have suffered after inadvertently hinting at the depth of her feelings.

  In class she now concentrated her attention on her work at all times, never once looking his way, and whenever he caught sight of her, she seemed more than ever to radiate simple piety and goodness. As the days went by he began to reflect how central a part Felicity had played in everything that had happened to him in China, and he was increasingly moved, too, by the memory of the words she had spoken so tentatively in the Pavilion of Eternal Spring. He began to castigate himself inwardly for having taken her friendship for granted and he made one or two attempts to apologize to her for this — but she politely brushed his approaches aside.

  He slept poorly for the first time in his life and to his great dismay one night he suffered a recurrence of his Shanghai nightmare. It disturbed his sleep after he had dined out with a group of male classmates to celebrate one of their birthdays at a cheap eating house in the Outer City. Heavily rouged and powdered Chinese girls dressed in ornate costumes had entertained throughout the meal, singing shrilly on a small dais in the traditional style of Peking opera. Their pantomime acts of tragedy, joy, and sorrow performed to an often strident vocal accompaniment had left a vivid impression in his mind and later, while he slept, these supple-bodied girls rose up tauntingly naked amid the writhing congregation of his earlier nightmare.

  As before, the beautiful image of Lu Mei-ling also appeared; but this time she was more provocative and sensuous than ever in her movements. Luridly rouged in the fashion of the singing girls, her naked body shimmered like liquid gold as she advanced and retreated before him, an alluring and forbidden figure in one and the same moment. Jakob felt her fingers tangle languorously in his hair, felt himself drawn helplessly toward her until her limbs dissolved slowly around him, and again a suffusion of heat engulfed his senses.

  As in the previous manifestation of the dream, Felicity appeared too: detached and standing apart, her slight, angular body fully clothed in pale garments, she remained a symbol of unassailable virtue, rising above the seething scenes of carnality around her, and on waking in anguish, Jakob again prayed fiercely for deliverance from what he thought of as the darker side of his nature. This vivid recurrence of the nightmare left him profoundly troubled, and when he saw Felicity’s calm, unsuspecting face in the classroom next morning, he felt a sudden sense of gratitude toward her. Over and above the warm companionship they had shared, she seemed more than ever before to personify near-saintly qualities which might help put the shame of his nightmares to flight, and he felt a greater sense of remorse than ever at having failed to respond positively to her in the pavilion on Gorgeous Prospect Hill. At the first opportunity that arose to speak to her alone, he begged her to join him on another visit to the Pavilion of Eternal Spring while the magical autumn sunshine lasted, and although she at first refused, he persisted until she agreed to meet him there at dawn the next day.

  Rising very early, he hurried there ahead of her, arriving just as the sun rose, and he was waiting in front of the pavilion on the summit of the hill when she appeared. If anything, that dawn was more beautiful than the last; not even a faint breeze stirred the pines and the palace roofs below shimmered softly in a breathless silence. Almost horizontal shafts of brilliant sunlight were striking the pavilion from the east and as Felicity stopped, smiling shyly before him, her pretty face was lit softly by the dawn radiance. There was an awe-inspiring quality to the moment and Jakob at first found himself unable to summon words; Felicity too remained silent and they stood side by side without speaking, looking around them at the perfection of the morning. Then at last Jakob motioned her to sit beside him on the teak bench and he began speaking in a quiet voice, his gaze fixed on the palaces below.

  “Since I’ve been in Peking, Felicity, I’ve felt joy grow inside me e
very day. The work is hard but the past seems to come to life so clearly here — I feel I’m really beginning to understand China. You’ve made all the discoveries with me and that fills my heart with a greater gladness.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “When you said the last time we sat here that it was one of the most beautiful days of your life, I felt it too. But I was clumsy and thoughtless that day and I want to ask you to forgive me for that. I know now we felt the beauty keenly because we were together on this enchanted hill — and because both of us have decided to devote our lives to China.”

  Felicity looked startled for a moment; then she smiled uncertainly. “I don’t really understand what you’re trying to say, Jakob.”

  “Don’t you? I’m sorry, let me try again.” Jakob’s expression became more animated. “At the time I left England the Anglo-Chinese Mission was seeking volunteers — young unmarried men — to itinerate alone in remote areas of southern China. I put my name forward. I was told that if I were chosen I’d help set up new outstations and I still want to do that more than anything in the world . .

  “Of course, I understand,” put in Felicity quickly, her expression defensive. “You were born to be an evangelist. You’re strong and brave and filled with the spirit of adventure —“

  “Yes, but I won’t want to work alone forever,” said Jakob impatiently, breaking in on her. “And perhaps we were meant to join our efforts, Felicity. We both love China. Perhaps I’ve been blind . .

  Felicity’s cheeks colored faintly and she half turned from him. “You sound as if you’re talking about some kind of duty, Jakob.”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it that way.” Jakob leaned closer to her, more anxious than ever to make amends. “I think I’m just being clumsy again ye been too blind all along to recognize something wonderful even though it was staring me in the face.”

  Felicity kept her head turned from him. “I’ve been thinking and praying a lot recently, Jakob. I’m made of much frailer flesh than you. I’m probably best suited to a city mission school. When the designations are decided by our mission boards I’ll probably find myself teaching here in Peking.”

  “If ever we were in danger together, I’d have strength enough for both of us,” said Jakob earnestly. “I’d protect you always.”

  “I’m sure you would.” Felicity hesitated again, struggling to preserve the air of detachment she had maintained since their last meeting on the hill. “But our wishes can’t come before those of the Lord.”

  Jakob frowned perplexedly; then his face brightened. “Perhaps we’d best leave it to the Lord to decide for us. It’s possible I won’t be called to the south. Shall we wait and see whether the designations 3oin our paths — or separate them?”

  “Yes.” Felicity stood up suddenly, still keeping her back to him, and started to walk away down the hill. “When the Lord is put second, you give only what’s second best.”

  “Then I shall pray that our hearts will be set to work together!” Jakob hurried after Felicity and placed a formal hand beneath her elbow to guide her down the path between the gnarled trees. The beauty of their surroundings struck them afresh and Jakob shook his head in wonder.

  “On a morning such as this,” he said softly, “I can’t imagine an honest man’s prayer could be refused.”

  For a moment they lingered, looking down on the old imperial palaces, reluctant to break the unique spell cast by the autumn dawn. The blue of the sky was deepening and the clear, sweet air of the early morning was soft against their cheeks. An almost tangible aura of timelessness seemed to envelop the old pavilions, and as Jakob gazed at their curved eaves, for an instant he felt an instinctive door of understanding open in his mind: perhaps at that very moment the imperial spirits of many dynasties were forgathering in the magnificent chambers below those ornate roofs to re-celebrate ancient ceremonies. Perhaps the immortal souls of many emperors returned in the autumn at that magical hour, just as the sun rose, to re-create fleetingly some of the great glories of China’s past; perhaps it was in the radiance of these sublime moments that he and Felicity had unknowingly been privileged to share.

  These intuitions remained elusive, hovering just beyond the shadowy borders of conscious thought, but as he descended the shaded hill, his hand lightly touching Felicity’s bare arm, Jakob felt uplifted, light, exhilarated. Although the feeling did not become a coherent thought, he sensed that whatever lay ahead, the mysterious enchantment of that autumnal Peking dawn would remain vivid in his memory, dyed in fast colors, always indefinable but somehow deeply influential and important in his future life.

  12

  The China that you’re about to venture into,” said Matthew Barlow in a hoarse voice, “is a leaking ship with a broken tiller drifting on an uncharted ocean. It’s got no known or trusted leaders, and all the disciplines of the old social order that sustained the nation through centuries of upheavals have been swept away forever . .

  A fit of coughing caused the director-general of the Anglo-Chinese Mission to break off and he sank back into the pillows propped behind his head. Gray-faced from a bout of bronchitis, he was resting beneath several thick quilts on a clay k’ang inside which a dung fire sputtered; outside the shuttered windows of the mission’s ssu ho yuan a high wind was roaring down on Peking from the northwest, bearing great swirling clouds of Mongolian sand. As often happened during the days when winter turned to spring, the fierce wind had been blowing for several days without cease, blanketing the whole city with a film of grit that was as old as time itself. The wind’s ferocity drove the sand in through door and window cracks, no matter how carefully sealed, and coarse grains squeaked under the soles of Jakob’s shoes as he rose from his chair to pass Barlow a hot infusion of Chinese herbs and ginseng root that a Chinese servant had left on a lacquered table by the bed.

  “What’s more,” he wheezed, “in the nine months or so since you arrived in China, Jakob, things outside your tranquil retreat here in Peking have gone from bad to worse.”

  Barlow had traveled to Peking from Shanghai to interview the half-dozen new missionaries in Jakob’s language class and announce their designations. He had become unwell during the journey and had taken to his bed immediately on arrival. After two days of rest, he was still weak but had decided to conduct the interviews from his bedside to avoid further delay. Jakob was the last of the six to be called before him. When he entered, the director-general had invited him to kneel beside the bed while they prayed together at length, mentioning by name all the newly fledged missionaries and many men and women already serving with the Anglo-Chinese Mission in the field. In the course of the long—drawn-out prayer Jakob had to struggle to curb the impatience he felt rising within him — after the long, arduous months of study he felt he couldn’t wait much longer to discover his fate, and when Barlow at last asked him to rise and turned to discussing a future post for him, Jakob had barely been able to stifle his sigh of relief.

  “Because there’s unrest and profound change . . . taking place throughout the length and breadth of China . . . the dangers for foreign missionaries are becoming greater all the time.” Barlow spoke with tantalizing slowness, pausing to sip his tisane. “That’s why I’ve spent much time in prayer before coming here . . . We’ve got to be sure you’re aware of the dangers and are ready to face them . . . Some of our people, I should tell you, feel it would be best to confine all new activity to the big cities until more peaceful conditions return

  “But surely, sir,” said Jakob, leaning anxiously toward the bed, “if the people of China are suffering new difficulties, their need to hear the Gospel must be greater than ever.”

  Barlow’s gray features contracted in a frown and he studied the eager face of the young missionary before him for a long moment. Jakob’s undisguised enthusiasm seemed to take him unawares, as though he had forgotten their earlier meeting, and he picked up Jakob’s language-course file from the quilt before him with a look of puzzlement in his eyes. He read its contents in sil
ence for several minutes before his expression gradually cleared.

  “You’ve had a battle royal, I see, with your Chinese studies, Jakob. You just scraped through all your final examinations around the pass mark. You’ll have to work hard over the next few years to finish your work on the language, you realize that, don’t you?”

  Jakob nodded, his anxiety deepening.

  “But I see your teachers say that if there had been scores for spiritual merit, none would have been higher than yours. None of your fellow students was more ready to respond to the Lord’s command to ‘go and teach all nations.’

  “Thank you, sir,” said Jakob quietly.

  Barlow straightened himself on the pillows as though making an unaccustomed effort. “Before finally deciding on any designation, Jakob, I don’t just pray for guidance, I also like to consult the man concerned. I have to know whether he has the burning determination that’s needed.” He gave Jakob a long, searching look. “Are you sure you still want to preach in the countryside in these turbulent times?”