It made sense. Seeing the emperor’s reinforcements arrive, the Taiping were clearly going to throw everything they had at the garrison, to take it quickly. Then let the Manchu break in if they could.
Guanji didn’t hesitate. Sending a man to tell the brigade general, he immediately split his riflemen into two parties: a hundred and fifty in formation, to deliver volley after volley at any Taiping force that broke in through the garrison’s west gate; the other two hundred and fifty to be ready to repel whatever attack might come through a breach in the wall from the southern side.
He didn’t have to wait long until Genghis appeared. The Mongolian approved his actions, listened carefully to the Manchu woman, and told Guanji to accompany him up onto the wall.
“Will this affect the battle plan, sir?” Guanji asked.
“There is no battle plan,” the Mongolian replied drily. “The war council still can’t make up their minds.”
They gazed out at the Taiping troops opposite the west gate. The rebels had dug a trench and thrown up a rampart that stretched from the city wall to the lake. If the men of the Southern Grand Battalion came around the city to attack them, they obviously meant to put up a strong defense.
The Mongolian turned to look down the length of the city wall. There seemed to be a Taiping flag flying every few yards. Guanji stared at the prefect’s yamen. The roofs of the buildings and the numerous Taiping banners obstructed much of the view, but it was evident that the rebels were still busily undermining the garrison wall. He could see men adding to the piles of excavated earth.
“They were mining last night as well,” Guanji volunteered. “I stood at the foot of the wall, and I could hear them digging underground. They were still at it when I turned in—and that was after midnight.”
“Did you go up on top of the wall?”
“Not last night, sir. I didn’t think I’d see much, as there was no moon.”
“No moon.” The Mongolian nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. It’s been waning for days.” He was silent for a moment. And then suddenly he slapped his thigh. “No moon,” he cried. “What a fool I’ve been!”
“Sir?”
“That’s what Li’s been up to. The cunning devil.”
“General Li?”
“This…” The Mongolian waved towards the activity in the yamen below. “It’s a bluff. He’s not trying to take the garrison at all. He doesn’t want Hangzhou. He’s just been waiting for our relief force to show up. That was his game. Draw troops away from Nanjing, split the Southern Grand Battalion.”
“And now they’re here, sir, what’ll he do?”
“Do? He’s already done it. Why would he wait? He’s gone. He must have sneaked his troops out by the western gate last night. Right under our noses, in the dark. Made a night march. They’re on their way back to Nanjing.”
“Where they’ll fall upon the remaining besiegers.”
“That’s right.”
“And the Taiping troops burrowing under the garrison wall, and the Taiping camp outside?”
“Decoys. Like those flags on the walls. To make us think he’s still there. Every day he can fool us, he puts more distance between himself and any troops we send after him.”
“What’ll you do, sir?”
“If I’m right, there’s probably no more than three hundred men in the yamen. We can take care of them and the Taiping camp ourselves, and send the Southern Grand Battalion troops straight back to Nanjing.” Genghis shook his head. “Trouble is, I can’t prove it. The only thing the war council will do is prepare for the possible enemy attack. Strictly defensive. That’s all.”
Guanji considered.
“If I can get into the yamen, I should be able to see at once. There’s either six thousand men in there, or a few hundred. Would the war council accept a report from me?”
“They might. How would you get in?”
“Maybe,” said Guanji, “the Manchu woman could guide me.”
* * *
—
She’d looked at him appraisingly. “If you want to get into the yamen, you’ll have to go dressed as a rebel. I have Taiping clothes that would fit you, at my house.”
“How did you get them?”
“Killed a Taiping.”
Even getting to her house, they had to be careful. He couldn’t go through the rebel-occupied city dressed as a Manchu officer and risk being arrested by a Taiping patrol. By the time they set out, he’d changed into poor man’s clothes. If anyone asked, he was her brother.
It was midafternoon by the time they got to her house, near the southern gate. Time to change again. Two of her children and an old woman he assumed was her mother-in-law watched as he tried on the loose smock with its red Taiping badge and the dead man’s leather belt.
“Do you want his sword?” she asked. “He had a sword.”
It was a typical Chinese soldier’s sword, straight and pointed, with sharpened sides, about the same length as his own, though not as good. Guanji tried it. “I may as well,” he said. “What about my hair?”
“Turn around.” She carefully undid his plaited Manchu pigtail, wet his hair, and spread it across his shoulders. She tried the dead man’s hat on Guanji’s head. It fitted, near enough.
“Could I pass for a rebel now?” he asked with a grin.
“Not in daylight,” she said. “Better wait for dusk.”
* * *
—
It was nearly two hours before they set off. Even going through the southern part of the city, they had to be careful. For now that he was dressed as a rebel, he had to watch out for the townsfolk. There were still plenty of local people, Han or Manchu, who’d willingly slit the throat of a lone Taiping rebel if they saw one. Hiding his Taiping clothing under an old Chinese coat, and with his hair loosely bound into a temporary pigtail with twine, Guanji shuffled along beside the Manchu woman as they made their way northward up quiet streets and alleys.
If the streets were strangely deserted, he soon realized that the houses were mostly occupied. Uncertain what was going to happen next, people were staying indoors for safety. When she did meet someone in the street, the Manchu woman would ask them, “Where are the Taiping?” And each time the answer was similar: Either that they had left the day before, or that a patrol had been seen an hour or two ago, but not since.
Once they came to a Buddhist temple. The door had been broken in, but someone, out of devotion presumably, had placed a lamp inside and lit a few candles. They paused for a moment to look in. The Taiping had smashed the tables, the statues, everything. As they continued working their way northward, the situation remained the same: people hiding, Taiping gone.
When they came to the square where he and his riflemen had ambushed the Taiping, however, the woman put her hand on his arm and told him to stop. “This is where you must be Taiping,” she whispered. She took his coat and quickly untied his hair, letting it fall loose to his shoulders. “Yesterday, all these houses were full of them.”
He surveyed the square. A wood fire had been lit in the center. It was still burning with a low flame, but there was no sign of anyone to tend it. A few remains of the barricade he’d thrown up could be seen in one corner of the square. They’d been using it for firewood. The houses stared blankly. He couldn’t see a lamp in any of them, or any indication of human presence. But looking northward up a street that must lead to the yamen, he could see lights a quarter mile ahead.
“I’ll go on alone,” he said quietly. “Wait for me.”
She nodded.
* * *
—
He was almost certain already. The Mongolian was right. The Taiping had fooled the defenders of Hangzhou, and they’d gone. But he had to be sure. Totally sure. Otherwise, if the Taiping breached the wall and came rushing into a garrison who believed the threat was over, thousands
of his people were going to die. He walked slowly, the Taiping sword hanging from his belt. He was conscious of the beating of his heart.
He’d gone a couple hundred yards when he saw some Taiping at last. A small group, two of them carrying torches, crossed the street ahead of him and disappeared into an alley. Several of them glanced at him, but without interest.
So far, so good. The houses he passed appeared to be empty. He saw no lights within, nor did he hear any voices. Twice he pushed open a street door and stepped into the courtyard of a house. The first was empty. In the second, a single old man, squatting in a corner under a lamp, looked at him sadly, probably wondering if this intruder was going to hurt him. His confidence growing, Guanji walked towards the lights ahead.
* * *
—
Banners. There were red-and-yellow Taiping banners everywhere. That was the first thing he noticed as he came to the yamen quarter’s open spaces. Banners, but not in the hands of Taiping warriors. Some were stuck in the ground; others were tied to posts or fastened to the overhanging roofs of the buildings. A field of banners, rippling in the wind. Campfires and lamps hanging from the buildings completed the effect. Seen from above—from the garrison wall, for instance—anyone would have thought the place was full of troops.
There were some troops: a couple of men by each fire, rows of men sitting or lying on the broad steps in front of the larger buildings. Strangely, when he boldly entered the big prefect’s mansion in the center of the yamen, he encountered only half a dozen warriors playing checkers in the big hall. They looked up at him idly. He glanced around as if he’d been expecting to find someone there, shook his head, and walked out. At the north end of the yamen he saw several big heaps of earth, obviously quarried from the tunneling under the wall, and realized that these, too, had been carefully sited so as to be visible from the garrison.
So how many men were in the quarter? He estimated he’d seen about a hundred. Double it, and double that again: It still didn’t amount to five hundred. Certainly not five thousand.
Just to be certain, he worked his way back through the streets under the western wall. It was the same story. Almost empty.
He was done. The mission had been easier than expected. With a sense of relief, he made his way back towards the empty square.
* * *
—
It was just as he had left it. The small fire was still glowing in the middle, the houses silent. Where was the Manchu woman? He stepped into the square and started to walk towards the fire so that she’d see him. He looked from side to side. Was she hiding? Had something happened to her? Did she know something he didn’t?
He heard a hiss from somewhere directly on his left, and was just turning to look, when something else caught his eye: torchlight ahead, by the remnants of the barricade in the corner. Two torches, three, four. And before he could take evasive action, a small patrol swung briskly into the square. Four torchbearers and six fully armed Taiping, led by an officer. They came straight towards him.
He froze. No good running. Better bluff it out.
“You’re going the wrong way,” the officer called. “Fall in behind.”
Obviously the patrol was making a final roundup in the town, to collect all their men. It probably meant they were leaving tonight.
He waited for them to draw level. If he fell into step at the back, he might be able to make a run for it as they left the square. The officer was only ten feet from him.
“Halt!” the officer cried. He stared at Guanji.
He looked to be about forty. His hair was grey. His bearing suggested years of authority. He had a scar down one cheek. His eyes were fixed on Guanji’s long hair, so recently released from a pigtail. Seen close up, even by torchlight, it might not look very convincing. “I don’t know you,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Zhang, sir.” It was the first common name Guanji could think of.
“What’s my name?”
Guanji saw the trap at once. If this was a senior officer, every Taiping in the city would know his name. But what could he say? He hesitated.
“You’re a spy,” said the officer calmly. He drew out a long knife.
Guanji pulled out his sword. A useless gesture, of course. The patrol could easily overpower him. It was just instinctive.
Two of the Taiping soldiers started towards him, but the officer raised his hand and signaled them to stand back. “Are you an officer?” asked the man with the scar on his face.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Prepare to die.” It wasn’t a threat. Just a statement of fact.
Understanding what was required, two of the torchbearers stationed themselves on one side of the space between their officer and Guanji, and two on the other. The little killing ground needed light.
Guanji held his sword firmly. The straight blade glimmered in the torchlight. He felt its weight, made sure that he was well balanced, and kept his eyes on his man. There were two things to watch: the point of your opponent’s weapon and his feet.
The words of the Mongolian suddenly came into his mind: “You know the trouble with you? You’ve never been face-to-face with death. To see another man in front of you, looking straight into your eyes, and know that only one of you is going to live. That’s the moment of truth.”
So this was it. The moment of truth.
Guanji did not feel fear, exactly. He was too concentrated on the business in hand. He was not a bad swordsman. He bent his knees a little, testing his balance again. The point of his sword was up, trained upon the throat of his opponent, fixed. His arm might move, but the point of his sword would not.
And then the Taiping officer with the scar began to move, and it was not like the way Guanji moved at all. He seemed to rock from side to side, as though transforming himself into another animal. Maybe a cat? If so, a feral cat. Or something else, still more deadly, a creature that Guanji did not know. A serpent cat, perhaps.
The Taiping was passing his long knife between his hands, from side to side, rhythmically. It was almost hypnotic to watch.
Guanji’s sword was longer that the Taiping’s knife. That should give him the advantage. But as the Taiping moved in a swaying crouch towards him, he knew it did not. This was no ordinary soldier. This was a pirate, a street brigand, who had killed many men.
Then Guanji knew that he was going to die. He kept his sword up, but he took a step back.
Was the Taiping smiling? No, he might have been, but he was not. He knew he was going to kill his man. It would be quick, clean.
Guanji took one more step back. The torchbearers did not move. The Taiping was fully in the torchlight, Guanji almost in shadow. But it made no difference. Guanji saw the Taiping’s feet twitch. He was about to spring. Guanji tensed, gripped his sword.
The woman came from the shadows so suddenly that no one even saw her. She barreled into the torchbearer nearest the Taiping officer, seizing his torch, which she thrust towards the officer’s face.
But there was no need. The Taiping officer had been distracted. Not for long. Not even for a second. But long enough for Guanji.
Instinctively, he leaped forward and lunged with his sword into the Taiping’s chest. The man’s knees buckled. With all his strength, Guanji ripped the sword down, to open the wound, and out.
He heard the woman cry: “Run. This way. Quick!” He felt her grabbing his arm.
The torchbearers and the half-dozen troops were so surprised they hadn’t even started to move as Guanji and the woman fled into the shadows.
At the edge of the square she pushed him into an alley and commanded again, “Run,” as she flung the torch back at the pursuing soldiers.
He couldn’t see where he was going, but she was right behind him. He stumbled, felt her strong arm under his, and righted himself. There were shouts behind them. They we
re still being pursued.
“To the end, turn left, then turn right,” the woman’s voice said. “Keep running. I’ll catch up with you.”
At the end of the alley he made the turn and suddenly realized that she was no longer with him. Ten yards farther, as he turned right, he heard a scream behind him. A woman’s scream. She screamed again. He paused. Should he go back? He had to help her. But he also had to get away. He had to report. By the sound of it, the woman might already be dead. He ran on. He could hear the sound of running steps behind him. It must be one of the Taiping troops. Ahead, he could just see that the alley ended in a dimly lit street. He got to the street. Empty, except for a single lamp hanging from a house. He threw himself to one side and gripped his sword. He’d kill his Taiping pursuer as he came out of the alley.
And was in the act of lunging when he saw that it was the Manchu woman.
“Come,” she said, turning up the street. “The garrison’s this way.”
“I thought you were dead,” he said. “I heard you scream twice.”
“That’s because there were two of them.” She glanced at him and gave a grim smile. “I scream when I kill.”
“Thank you,” he said.
* * *
—
The brigade general was pleased with them both, for Guanji told him exactly what happened, including how the woman had saved his life.
The Mongolian gave her a small bag of silver.
“You don’t have to pay me,” she said.
“You have children?”
“Yes.”
“Then take the money,” said the Mongolian.
“Everything you said was right,” said Guanji as soon as she was gone. “We can take the Taiping camp tonight, and the ones in the yamen, too.”
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