Anthony Grey
Page 15
Although he was shivering inside his sodden clothing and was weak with exhaustion, Jakob remained upright, looking levelly at the Hunanese and saying nothing. The stable in which they stood was illuminated by the flames from several braziers set up in the courtyard beyond the open door; by their light Jakob could see the guard commander’s swarthy face flushing with anger as he continued to defy him.
“I kneel only to pray to God,” said Jakob in a quiet voice. “It’s an act of reverence I reserve solely for Him.”
The officer’s right hand dropped threateningly to the hilt of his sword which he carried thrust through his leather belt and Jakob heard Felicity gasp behind him. The young trooper in charge of the horse was in the act of tethering it to a wall ring, but sensing the rising tension between the two men, he paused and turned to watch.
Outside the stable door, their cook boy, Liang, and his two young sons, who had arrived only minutes before, shrank back apprehensively into the shadows.
“If you disobey my orders your wife and child will suffer!” The Hunanese took a menacing step in Felicity’s direction before turning back to face Jakob. “Kneel! You are to be bound for the rest of the night.”
Jakob looked at Felicity. She had just fed their baby daughter and settled her into a bed of rice straw in the horse’s feeding trough. She was biting her lip and he saw a beseeching expression come into her eyes. For a moment he hesitated, then, pressing the palms of his hands together in front of his chest, he lowered himself slowly to his knees beside the tethering post, bowed his head, and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Chinese in a firm voice.
“Bind him!”
The Hunanese barked the second command at the young trooper and seized Jakob’s wrists, wrenching them behind his back on either side of the tethering post. After the youth had lashed them together, he ordered him to fasten a thicker rope around Jakob’s chest and called three older soldiers to stand guard outside. As he was leaving, the Hunanese turned in the doorway and glared at the missionaries.
“The people have heard of your capture,” he said brusquely. “They demand that you be put on trial at dawn in the town square.”
“On what charges?” asked Jakob in surprise.
“Spying for the imperialists,” rasped the Hunanese. “And the people themselves will be your judges, so be careful what you say. If you anger them, they will demand your execution — and the will of the people must be carried out!”
When they were left alone Felicity rushed to Jakob’s side and fell on her knees. Flinging her arms about his neck, she buried her face against his chest and he felt her shoulders tremble with a fit of silent sobbing. Her dress and shawl clung wetly to her body and she shivered continually; around them the floor vas dirty and the rank odors of horses’ urine and droppings filled the air.
They had struggled more than twenty-five miles without rest over the rain-drenched mountains after a general command had been issued for the column to put as much distance as possible between itself and the Nationalist battalion they had encountered. It had been almost two A. M. before a brief halt was called at the market town of Paoshan. A prior warning had been issued that the march would resume again soon after first light, and the Red Army troops had at once begun looting the shops and houses of the township’s wealthy landowners and mandarins.
The Hunanese commander had requisitioned the home of an affluent landlord to quarter his prisoners in the stables and granaries that opened onto a central courtyard. A noisy melee of soldiers, wearing their distinctive long-peaked khaki jockey caps, thronged the area around the blazing braziers, sorting and stacking bolts of cloth, sacks of rice, and endless boxes and baskets of food, clothing, shoes, and jewelry.
From time to time above the din, the cries of pain made by the owner of the house became audible. As they were hustled into the courtyard, Jakob and Felicity had seen the bewildered, potbellied Chinese dressed only in a rumpled nightgown being led away into one of the open-fronted granaries. A rope was hitched around one of his ankles and the other end thrown over a beam. Before they were pushed into their stable, they saw the Chinese jerked violently off his feet, and the next moment he was spinning and twisting upside down in the midst of the jeering throng of peasant soldiers. He had screamed and groaned constantly at first but gradually his agonized cries had grown fainter.
Hearing a new, long-drawn-out moan from the granary as she clung to her husband at the foot of the tethering post, Felicity stiffened with horror. “It’s all like some terrible nightmare, Jakob,” she breathed close to his ear. “I pray that we’ll wake up soon.”
“My own arms can’t comfort you now,” whispered Jakob. “But please don’t lose faith. Arms that others can’t see will protect us both.”
A shadow fell across them and looking up, Felicity saw the figure of a Chinese silhouetted in the doorway against the light of the courtyard fires. With a little cry she sprang to her feet, dashed to the feeding trough, and swept her baby into her arms. But when she turned, she found Liang, the cook boy, advancing into the stable with his loaded shoulder pole. Grinning diffidently, he lowered the large twin baskets carefully to the floor and pointed into them.
“I bring you clothes for baby. I bring rice and soybean milk. I bring towels and quilts to make you and master dry and warm.”
Liang glanced carefully over his shoulder into the courtyard every few seconds and his voice was uneasy as he spoke; although ordered by the guard commander in Chentai to accompany his employers and continue his domestic duties, he too was tense and fearful for his own safety.
“Hsiao Liang, you’re very brave to have made the long journey in the dark. We’re most grateful.” Jakob grimaced and strained un— successfully against his bonds, trying to ease the growing stiffness in his limbs. “We shall thank you properly when we are all safely returned to Chentai.”
Liang ducked his head shyly in acknowledgment, then busied himself rummaging in the panniers. He pulled out a small cooking pot, two bowls, chopsticks, some small bags of rice, and several packets of the soybean milk substitute and set them out on one of the upturned panniers. After handing Felicity towels and a wide- sleeved Chinese gown, he prepared a bed for her beside Jakob by spreading two rolled bamboo sleeping mats and a quilted coverlet on a mound of rice straw.
While he was doing this his two sons, who had accompanied him, watched from the doorway; when he called to them to run and find water and a place to boil rice they dashed off eagerly, racing one another to complete the task. Liang, after talking with the guards, went off and returned a few minutes later carrying an old metal bucket that contained a few glowing coals from one of the courtyard braziers. He had punched holes in its sides and after positioning this improvised fire close to Jakob so that it would warm him, he fixed a rope across the stable and motioned to Felicity to dry above the fire the wet clothes she had already removed.
After gazing at the second empty pannier for a moment, Liang stooped and filled it with clean straw, then set it beside the bed he had prepared for Felicity. Pointing to the baby whimpering fretfully in her mother’s arms, Liang grinned and made a sleeping motion by pressing his joined hands against his own cheek. “The basket will make a fine crib for baby, no?”
Despite her anxiety, Felicity smiled for the first time since leaving Chentai, and kneeling beside the basket, she lowered the infant gently into the circular nest of straw. They watched anxiously for a moment or two; then a smile of delight lit Liang’s face as the baby’s eyes closed and she settled peacefully to sleep.
While Liang went off to cook the scraps of food he had brought, Felicity dried Jakob as best she could with the towels and wrapped a warm quilted coverlet about his shoulders. She folded another quilt, fixing it as a makeshift pillow between his head and the tethering post, and closed the door to the courtyard. With the damp night air excluded, the few coals inside the punctured bucket began to cast a comforting red glow around the stable, and when Liang returned with two steaming bowls of bea
n soup and glutinous rice, Felicity knelt beside Jakob in the straw and fed him.
Before leaving them, Liang tiptoed to the closed door to listen for the guards. When he was satisfied that they could not be overheard, he opened a tin of tea and rummaged among the black leaves. Extracting a tiny leather-bound volume, he held it toward Jakob. “I bring you ‘Daily Light,’ I know you like.”
When Jakob saw the small, well-thumbed book Of inspirational Scripture texts — each dated for use on a specific day of the year — a broad smile spread across his face. “Liang, you are a true Christian friend. This little book is as important as the food you brought — for the soul. Thank you.”
Liang grinned delightedly and dipped his head once more in acknowledgment.
“Would you like to pray together with us now?”
An uneasy look replaced the grin on the face of the Chinese cook- boy. “I will say prayers quietly later . . . on my own.”
“I understand,” said Jakob softly. “God will bless you, Hsiao Liang.”
When the Chinese had closed the door to their stable prison behind him, Jakob smiled elatedly at Felicity. “You see, all is not lost. Faith is always rewarded in mysterious ways — even in the wild lands of China.”
Felicity nodded and smiled sadly back at him.
“Will you read the verses for today aloud, please?”
Felicity nodded again and opened the book at that day’s date. She held it toward the glow of the fire and in a quiet, reverent tone read the texts for the morning and the evening. In the damp and rank- smelling Chinese stable the hallowed words were immediately comforting and as Felicity continued reading, the gentle cadences of the verses brought them both a sudden sense of peace.
When at last she closed the book, Jakob smiled his thanks and motioned for her to lie down between him and the baby’s temporary crib; with her head resting in his lap, they slept fitfully — until a clamor of raucous voices wakened them suddenly at first light. Felicity sat up and together they strained their ears to listen. A large crowd was moving nearer along the street outside, chanting raggedly in Chinese, and gradually it became clear that they were shouting the same words over and over again.
“Ti kuo chou i chou kou kai szu! ... Ti kuo chou i chou kou kai szu! . . . Ti kuo chou i chou kou kai szu!”
As the meaning of the chants sank in, Felicity turned and stared at Jakob, aghast. Instinctively he shifted and tried to reach out his arms to her, but winced with pain as he realized again how stiff and numb his bound limbs had become. He tried unsuccessfully to smile, then shook his head in a little gesture of frustration and helplessness. Outside the chanting of the crowd grew steadily louder
“The imperialist spies deserve to die! . . . The imperialist spies deserve to die!”
9
Barefoot and stripped to the waist, Jakob shivered in the chill gray dawn as his guards urged him down the muddy main Street of Paoshan at rifle point. His wrists were bound tight behind his back and a broad strip of blood red paper had been fixed around his neck on which black Chinese characters had been daubed, announcing “This Is an English Imperialist Spy!” Felicity walked unsteadily in front of him; her hands too were bound behind her back with rope, her feet were bare, and she wore the crumpled brown dress which Liang had dried for her over the fire.
Only a narrow passage in the middle of the Street had been left open through the crowds of Red Army soldiers and townspeople, and as Jakob and Felicity passed, fists were waved angrily in their faces. Jeers and shouts of “Foreign Devils!” “Big Noses!” and “Hook Noses!” rang out from all sides as the onlookers craned their necks to catch a glimpse of them. A few paces behind, the potbellied landlord who had been tormented by soldiers all night in his own granary was being led by a rope fastened around his neck. His face was swollen and bruised and he stared sightlessly at the ground as he walked. A tall, pointed dunce cap had been placed on his head and paper labels around his neck denounced him as a “Local Tyrant.” A group of captured Nationalist army officers brought up the rear under close guard; their labels described them simply as “Traitors!” In the town square, three farm carts had been drawn up in front
of the yamen to serve as a stage. Red paper banners strung above them proclaimed “Death to All Spies, Traitors, and Feudal Usurpers of Our Land!” Felicity and Jakob were pushed up onto the carts first, and the landlord and the Nationalist officers followed. Several thousand soldiers and townspeople had jammed into the square, and at the sight of the prisoners they broke into a storm of jeering and chanting.
A malevolent-looking Red Army officer wearing the arm band of a senior political commissar was already standing on one of the carts, preparing to harangue the crowd, and at his side a squat, swarthy southern Chinese was clutching a long, curved sword protected inside a scabbard of scuffed leather. As the first weak rays of the rising sun illuminated the square, the swordsman’s narrow eyes seemed to Jakob to glitter with an unnatural brightness and he stared intently at each of the prisoners in turn as they mounted the carts.
“Today China is a semi colonial country,” yelled the political commissar suddenly. “Foreign imperialists rule many of our great coastal cities — and treat the Chinese living in them like dogs. Big landlords in the countryside are the natural allies of those imperialists. They depend on them for their survival! And their political party is the treacherous Nationalist Party of Chiang Kai-shek.” The commissar waved his arm contemptuously in the direction of the prisoners. “Today we have won great victories against all those enemies of the revolution! We have captured their representatives — and they’ve been brought here to receive punishment for their crimes!”
The Red Army soldiers in the crowd led a new storm of chanting and abuse as guards pushed Jakob and Felicity forward to stand alone, at the front of the cart. Jakob noticed that all color had drained from Felicity’s cheeks; she swayed slightly on her feet and he feared that she might faint and topple into the crowd. “Try not to show that you’re afraid,” he whispered. “Trust in the Lord.”
“Imperialist spies — tell the people of Paoshan who you are!” The commissar pointed scornfully at Jakob. “Tell them your name in English and spell it for them in full!”
Jakob looked around uncertainly at the sea of Asiatic faces so different from his own. The crowd quieted in anticipation and he drew himself up as straight as his bonds would allow. “My name is Jakob Kellner,” he said, and spelled it our letter by letter, speaking his English with slow emphasis. “I came to China from England to bring you the word of God . .
Without warning a wave of derisive laughter swept the square. Jakob, taken aback, stared at the crowd, mystified, and a moment or two passed .before he understood fully: the people of Paoshan and the peasant soldiers, who had rarely seen a foreigner or heard one speak, were convulsed simply by the comic sound of his alien tongue. The commissar, who had obviously anticipated this effect, waved Jakob to silence and pointed a peremptory finger at Felicity.
“Now you!”
Felicity struggled for several seconds to find her voice. Then, summoning all her courage, she took a pace forward to the edge of the cart. “I am Felicity Kellner. I did not come here to spy for my country She spoke in little more than a whisper and perhaps because of this the crowd remained silent, listening intently. Felicity, as a result, became more confident and switched to Chinese. “I did not come to China for any selfish reason at all. I came for your sakes . . . to help tell you about the love that God has for all peoples of the world . . . to try to teach you to believe in Him so that you might be saved . .
“Kill the imperialists! Kill them now!”
An angry roar from a burly Red Army soldier in the middle of the crowd suddenly drowned Felicity’s voice.
“Beat them — beat the imperialists! Drive them out of China!”
Jakob, from the corner of his eye, had seen the swordsman make a surreptitious signal in the direction of the burly soldier and hundreds of others immediately followed h
is lead. Felicity’s gentle voice was overwhelmed and the commissar motioned to nearby guards to seize Felicity and Jakob by the arms. Stepping in front of them, he produced a sheet of paper from inside his jacket and began to read from it.
“From our investigations,” he yelled, “it’s quite clear that this man and this woman have been sent to China by the imperialistic government of Britain. They and others like them are trying to subjugate the masses of China by means of the so-called Christian religion. Their aim is to bring all the people of China under foreign control.” He paused and glared around angrily at the crowd. “What fate should foreigners of this kind suffer?”
The same soldier in the heart of the crowd who had led the chanting before punched the air above his head with a clenched fist.
“Kill them! Kill all imperialists!”
He screamed the words wildly and the rest of the crowd joined in, shaking their fists at the two prisoners.
“Their readings from the Bible and their talk of ‘God’ are like opium! They use these lies to drug our people and subdue them — to prepare them for more widespread rule by foreigners. They use their ‘religion’ to mislead and deceive the people of China! What must be done with foreigners of this kind?”
This time the entire crowd erupted spontaneously with repeated roars of “Kill them!” and Jakob, who had been watching anxiously, realized that the yelling of the townspeople vas becoming as frenzied as that of the soldiers. While they were walking in the main street the local people among the crowds had remained largely silent; their expressions then had been both curious and wary, and Jakob guessed that many had turned out to watch because the soldiers had told them to. The arrival of the Red Army had obviously been as much of a shock in Paoshan as in Chentai and at first its inhabitants, who had seen many armies pass through the town gates over several generations, reacted, as ever, by complying with its demands. But now the political emotion generated by the troops was becoming infectious. The hatred for the prisoners, sparked off deliberately by the swordsman and his accomplice in the crowd, was spreading to the people of Paoshan and they were starting to call for their execution as avidly as the troops. -