The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (38 page)

‘Ha-ha. High philosophical issues! Is that what you call adultery? Come, come, Ma Na Si, I am raising only hypothetical questions. While the good engineer here bores the crowd with his history lessons and his paean to machinery, how better than to spend the time in gentle debate? Tell me, how do you answer?'

‘As I said, Da Ren, I'm only a soldier, and my morality, if I have any—I've never really thought about it—probably comes from the Army Regulations.'

‘Indeed? And what do they tell you?'

Manners's smile widened. ‘Well, sir, they tell me never to pass up any opportunity to secure a tactical advantage in the field. And I believe it was Napoleon who once said that there is nothing which succeeds like audacity.'

‘Ha! Audacity? Listen to him, Daifu. This is a young man who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. Of course he won't reveal how to doddering old pedants like you and me, who are only good for sitting by the warm fire and discussing religion. The young are so self-interested, don't you find? And cruel.

‘Did I ever tell you,' he continued, ‘the maxim of the ancestor of some of our greatest emperors, Temujin, the Khan of Khans, who, it is said, conquered the whole world with his armies? He was a soldier, Ma Na Si, like you, and—yes—like our Major Lin. Do you know what he said?' The hooded eyes closed as the Mandarin quoted in a dreamy voice: ‘There is no greater pleasure than to overthrow an enemy by guile, to slay him, to enslave his children and burn his crops, and to take his wives and daughters to your bed.'

‘That sentiment is monstrous, and barbaric. It's evil,' said the doctor.

‘Yes, it is. It contradicts nearly all of your Ten Commandments. But it does have a ring of honesty about it, does it not, Ma Na Si? A soldier's creed? In fact, it is as absolute and implacable in its way as the strictures of right and wrong that you yourself obey in your own religion. Only the values are reversed. How I would like to witness a conversation between my Temujin and your Jesus Christ. That would be a diverting exchange, would it not?'

‘Da Ren, I cannot have you joking about such matters. There is a limit.'

‘But I am not joking, Daifu. You and I, we represent two opposites. You the idealist, I the pragmatist. Or so it seems. But are we so far apart? Will it be that one day you, my friend, will play the pragmatist? And will I play the idealist? Who knows? Who knows what Fate has in store for us in these changing and troubled times? What will be your test? And what will be mine? Will we each be true to what we believe? Or shall we find ourselves in the relative position of young Ma Na Si here, securing tactical advantages in the field?

‘But listen, what is that thumping noise which is drowning the speech of the engineer? And what is that screeching whistle? Is this finally the sound of civilisation that we have been waiting for? Is this the progress you have been promising us, Daifu? You will excuse me if I observe that civilisation in this instance seems to be taking on rather violent, physical dimensions.'

All eyes were on the railway track and the rapidly approaching cloud of smoke. The air pounded with the sound of steam and the rattle of cars over rails. A groan of astonishment welled from the crowd, which undulated like a black speckled serpent as each person tried to stand on tiptoe to get a better view. Even those on the platform—the majority of whom had certainly seen a train before—rose as if hypnotised by the thundering mass of polished black and red metal hurtling towards them. The smokestack and the boiler were now clearly visible. The whistle howled like wolves in a forest; the siren screeched like a gale on a snow-face. Grey smoke belched from the stack, and blue steam billowed on either side like waves parted by a schooner in full race. Herr Fischer, who had abandoned his speech—he had ruefully realised halfway through that nobody had been listening to him anyway—made out the grinning whiskered features of Engineer Bowers who was gleefully tugging at the cord. His Chinese stokers, leaning from the cab, were grinning in their excitement. Herr Fischer realised that Bowers planned to bring his engine into the depot at full steam, for maximum spectacle, confident that the brakes would bring the whole juggernaut to a stop before they hit the buffers. And now, like the Flying Dutchman driven to harbour by a storm, the train had reached the gates of the camp.

‘Bravo, Fischer! Bravo!' he heard the doctor shout beside him.

‘Magnificent,' he heard Delamere cry.

He snatched a quick glance at his Chinese guests. The Mandarin was seated impassively, as was the military officer. The chamberlain, however, was cowering back in his chair evidently afraid. The crowd, too, was showing signs of nervousness; there was some jostling to and fro, but the line of railway coolies kept them away from the track and out of harm's way. Everything would be all right, he told himself.

He heard the jarring scream of the brakes, and saw that Bowers had calculated it perfectly. With a rattle and groan of metal the engine shuddered in its tracks. He could see fireworks of sparks cascade from the rigid wheels. The engine still seemed to be hurtling forward at great speed but Fischer knew that it would be at rest in a hundred yards. He felt disposed to cheer.

Then he saw a man standing in the tracks.

The crowd spotted him at the same moment. There was an eerie exhalation, something between a shout and a collective gasp. Bowers saw him too; he did everything he could, throwing the reversing lever and opening the throttle. Spouts of steam jetted from either side of the engine, but the train could not decrease its speed more rapidly than it was doing already. Those nearest the tracks were trying to edge backwards while the ones at the back were pressing forward to see what was happening. With horror Herr Fischer saw that in the ensuing mêlée some were being trampled underfoot. Their screams mingled sickeningly with the general cry of alarm from all sides. Helen Frances recognised the man as soon as she saw him and a chill ran down her spine. Her father spluttered, ‘Him again!' and the blood ran out of Tom's face.

It was the Boxer priest, standing calmly in the tracks as doom thundered down on him. He raised his hand, a magus warding off an evil spirit, then he was enveloped in steam, and the metal monster was screeching over where he had stood.

The engine came to a halt a few feet from the buffers. There was one last rush of steam, and after that a quiet descended on the railway camp. The dying hiss of the cooling engine and the whimpers and cries of those who had been trampled only intensified the silence.

Herr Fischer was as shocked as everyone else. He even felt responsible for the accident, but in spite of this, or even because of it, he felt that the only way to restore order was to continue with the ceremony. Ignoring the fact that Dr Airton, the nuns and Tom had already rushed from the rostrum to see if they could help the injured and the priest, he bowed in front of the Mandarin. ‘Your Excellency, please,' he said, gesturing him to stand and follow him to the rostrum. There he pointed at a lever, which he directed the Mandarin to pull. He and Charlie had designed this carefully. When the catch was released a bottle of champagne swung from a pole and exploded with a hiss on the hot boiler of the engine. At the same moment, cords tying down a net on the roof were loosed and a shower of dried petals scattered into the air blowing over the train and the crowd.

‘On behalf of the Peking–Mukden Railway Company, I formally declare the Tientsin–Shishan branch line open,' said Herr Fischer.

It was then that the schnapps arrived. It was also the signal for the small band, which Charlie had spent months training, to launch into a disjointed but cheerful version of ‘Garryowen'.

*   *   *

It took some while and exertion on the part of Major Lin's troops to restore order. The monstrous machine had frightened the crowd; they were shocked by the apparent death of the Boxer priest; and they had become even more alarmed when no trace of his body could be found under the wheels of the train. Was Boxer magic stronger than western magic after all? Were the stories true that followers of the Harmonious Fists could not be injured by the ocean devils' weapons or machines? For many this was the first time that they had come across any evidence of the Boxer movement at first hand. They had all heard about it and knew that it had flourished in other towns. But today the sheer evil nature of the foreign machine—its infernal noise and hellish emanations, the panic it had unleashed at its approach—and the bravery and successful defiance by a Boxer cult leader, despite these fearsome aspects, had caused many to think seriously again about what in the past they had only considered to be the fanatical speeches of rabble-rousers and quacks. What had really angered them was Fischer's callous scattering of flowers, and the band that had tactlessly played its triumphal western tunes. It was as if the foreigners were deliberately mocking their superstitions, and jeering at the death of the priest. Some remembered the arrogant speech of the foreign engineer—not many had bothered to listen at the time, but now his words were recalled and embroidered. Had he not boasted that he was conjuring new forces that would erase their old traditions? That monstrous machines like this fire-cart would in future reduce the load of the honest working men, the carters and hauliers, whose livelihoods depended on transporting the goods that would now be carried by this machine of metal and fire? Had he not gone further and said that the new western science—magic by another name—would change the way of life of the people, breaking the order of the old society and replacing it with new ideas? Was this not an attempt to challenge the eternal cosmic order and shake the Dragon Throne? It did not take long for the crowd's mood to turn ugly, and for the first stones to be thrown at the train, breaking the windows in some of the carriages.

Major Lin had to send a company of men to rescue the doctor and his wife, the two nuns, Tom and Helen Frances, who were still below offering medical assistance to those who had been trampled. They were surrounded by a mob of angry young men who first screamed abuse, then pelted them with mud and finally with harder projectiles, one of which hit Sister Elena on the temple giving her temporary concussion. It was enough for Major Lin's soldiers to fire a volley in the air to cause the men to scatter, and the doctor and his party calmly continued with their work, guarded by the soldiers. Fortunately few were seriously injured. They treated the patients quickly and efficiently, and it was not long before they could return to the safety and warmth of the ceremonial platform.

Bowers and his crew, and the two passengers who had travelled with them to Shishan, also had to be escorted to the platform. Bowers, a tall, bearded man of a puritan bent, was anguished with remorse that he had run a man over, and baffled when he was told that the body had disappeared. ‘I saw him,' he said. ‘I saw him tumble under the wheels. Saw it with my own eyes. There's no devil could survive the onrush of a train. If there's no body there then some other person's moved it. There's no other way to explain it.'

*   *   *

Manners had recognised one of the passengers from the train. ‘Taro-san,' he called across the tent. ‘You old dog. You accepted my invitation.'

He crossed over and embraced a tall, well-proportioned Japanese. The man was both elegant and relaxed in his western clothes. He wore a trim tweed suit and patent leather boots. He had a black military greatcoat hung casually over his shoulders. He sported a narrow moustache and his eyebrows were set in a humorous frown. ‘My dear friend Manners,' he said, in perfect English, ‘when I received your telegram telling me about the hunting here, how could I resist?'

‘Come, let me introduce you,' said Manners.

The Mandarin had seated himself by a small table on which were piled a plate of corned-beef sandwiches. These he was sampling with his schnapps. If he was at all perturbed by the ugly behaviour of the crowd he did not show it, and in fact was exhibiting the same levity and bonhomie that had characterised his behaviour since his arrival.

He looked up at the two men with a smile. Taro clicked his heels and bowed deeply. ‘Da Ren, may I present Colonel Taro Hideyoshi, who is attached to the Japanese Legation in Peking,' said Manners.

‘Ah, yes,' said the Mandarin, nibbling a sandwich. ‘I have heard of you, Colonel. Ma Na Si Xiansheng has spoken of you, and so has the commander of my garrison, Major Lin Fubo.'

‘The major and I had the honour of meeting during the late war, Da Ren.' Taro's Chinese, like Manners's, was fluent. ‘Lieutenant Lin, as he was then, and I were opponents, but we rapidly developed a friendship of soldiers.'

‘Is that what it was? Not the relationship between a warder and his captive? Major Lin seems very grateful to you. You must have been kind to him. In your culture and mine we respect the obligations of friendship. We also consider it shameful to be defeated in battle, and we tend to despise those who have allowed themselves to become prisoners. There might have been a contradiction here. I am so glad that you and Major Lin, with your friendship of soldiers, were able to resolve it.'

Colonel Taro smiled. ‘Ma Na Si Xiansheng in his letters has often spoken to me of the sagacity of the Mandarin. I am very honoured to make his acquaintance.'

‘I am certain that Major Lin is looking forward to renewing your acquaintance, Colonel. I assume from the warm way he speaks of you that it was an intimate friendship?'

‘Your Excellency is very kind. Indeed it was a very warm friendship,' said Taro. ‘May I ask, where is Major Lin?'

‘He is outside shooting the peasants who became scared when your steam train arrived. No doubt he will return shortly.' The Mandarin picked up another sandwich. ‘Colonel, you are welcome in Shishan. Ma Na Si has spoken to me of your plans to hunt here. Indeed, he has discussed these with Major Lin, who has reported them to me. I am more than interested that the three of you will be successful in your sport and that you will bag the quarry you seek. You understand that in my position I cannot join you in this hunt, although I look forward—I very much look forward—to seeing the trophies.'