The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (48 page)

‘I want to see the hunt,' she had said.

‘Maybe you and I will wait in the camp until they bring back the trophy, and then we can join in the celebrations,' said the doctor. And she seemed to have assented. At least, she had said nothing more. The ride to the Black Hills had been dreary. The doctor had expected that Helen Frances would have looked forward to an excursion with her old friend Henry Manners—it had been some time since they had ridden together—yet he was surprised that the two largely ignored each other, Manners riding ahead with the Japanese colonel, whom the doctor did not like. Since the Mandarin also kept to himself, absorbed in paperwork inside his sedan chair, and Helen Frances remained taciturn and silent, even though she rode beside him, the doctor felt isolated and chagrined, and increasingly frustrated that he had no chance to talk to the Mandarin, which had been his primary purpose for coming on this expedition in the first place.

And now, as the Mandarin in his armour cantered round the fire, Major Lin and his soldiers wheeling behind him, Manners and Taro mounting their horses, the doctor was shocked to see Helen Frances in full riding habit also climbing on to her horse, assisted by Lao Zhao. There was no help for it. Although he hardly felt prepared, he quickly called for his own horse. In a few moments, led by the yelling Mandarin at a fast canter, the party was thundering after the beaters into the trees, the doctor holding on to his hat in the rear.

And the hunt had been as beastly and bloody as he had expected it to be. The beaters had done their job well, and soon Manners's and Taro's guns and the Mandarin's arrows were taking their toll of fleeing deer, hares and wild pig. Ever ahead they heard the baying of the dogs, tracking the main quarry, whether bear or tiger the doctor did not know. From all directions came the sound of the beaters' drums and the harsh calls of their trumpets, driving whatever animals remained in the ring to the chosen killing ground. It was all the doctor could do to stay on his horse. He felt no inclination, as Manners and his friend were doing, to attempt to fire from the saddle at such a breakneck speed. In fact, he felt no inclination to fire at all. He wanted this to end.

It ended in a clearing with a bear at bay. They approached to a gurgling waterfall of sounds from the hounds, murmurs and barks and whines mixed in diabolical frenzy. The beaters had ringed the glade and were pounding thunder on their drums. Polemen were dancing out of the black giant's reach. Fangs open and lathered, yellow eyes mad as a demon's, swaying on her back paws, roaring in her rage, the bear waved and swatted at the dogs leaping at her neck. Some of her victims lay crumpled, whining and broken on the ground. The Mandarin trotted his horse to a stop. The others gathered in a half circle around him. He raised his right arm high. One of Lin's men blew loudly on his trumpet. The drums ceased beating. It was a signal. The polemen ran back. Huntsmen making strange whistles ran among the hounds, some of them trailing meat, and slowly the murmur died. After a few more jumps and tumbles, most of the hounds followed the lures and withdrew. The bear swayed where she stood, puzzled by the sudden silence. She roared once, twice, then dropped on her front paws, growling, the yellow eyes glaring suspiciously at the group of horsemen.

‘Ma Na Si Xiansheng,' said the Mandarin lightly. ‘Whose is she to be? And with which weapon? The gun, the spear or the bow?'

‘I am certainly no equal to the da ren with the bow,' said Manners, with a smile.

‘And an ancient bannerman trained only in the old ways of war knows little of the new-fangled sports rifle,' said the Mandarin.

‘It seems we must compromise on the spear, then,' said Manners.

‘It is the traditional weapon,' said the Mandarin.

‘On foot or on horseback?' asked Manners.

‘On foot is best,' said the Mandarin. ‘I will go first and you will follow me to back me up. Your friend?' He looked towards Taro, who bowed an acknowledgement of the invitation, before deliberately, insolently turning to Major Lin. Taro's eyes danced with humour as he passed on the unspoken challenge. Major Lin flushed, but maintained his stern expression, looking straight ahead.

‘No, I thank you, Da Ren-sama,' said the Japanese. ‘On consideration, I will be proud to observe the triumph of Your Excellency and Mr Manners.'

‘Doctor?' said Manners, dismounted, uncloaked, his hands raised high as a huntsman pulled a studded leather jerkin over his head and sheathed his arms in huge metalled gloves. ‘No pikemanship for you today?'

‘Certainly not, Manners, and if you want my view I think that you are behaving like a damned fool.'

‘I was always that, Airton. Only today I feel safe enough. It's not always one has a doctor immediately on hand in case of accident—and, for that matter, a nurse.' He smiled up at Helen Frances, who looked down coldly at him. ‘Will my lady give me her favour to take into battle?' he asked. Helen Frances turned her head away, biting her lip. ‘Obviously not,' he said.

‘Ma Na Si,' the Mandarin was shouting, ‘it is time to kill our bear.'

Airton watched in disbelief as the two men sauntered into the glade, their spears sloped casually over their shoulders. The bear saw the movement and rose blearily on to her hind legs, the gigantic shoulders swelling as she stretched her forepaws wide and ready to receive them, her head with its fangs shaking slowly from side to side. The Mandarin and the Englishman walked deliberately towards her.

Suddenly the Mandarin was running forward with the spear pointed. A great paw swished, the Mandarin rolled, thrusting as he did so, and the bear roared as the serrated edge of the spear sliced into her breast. The Mandarin was on his feet again, nimbly running backwards, eyes on the bear, spear at the ready. The assembled beaters shouted applause. ‘Ma Na Si!' the doctor could hear the Mandarin roar over the noise. It was Manners's turn. But now the bear had dropped on to her forepaws, growling, angry, in pain. As he moved a step forward, the whole mound of meat and fur and lethal claw charged. ‘Butt on the ground,' the Mandarin shouted. ‘Quickly.' Manners dropped to one knee, jamming the end of the spear into the grass, the point facing the charging beast.

‘That won't hold her,' the doctor heard himself moan, and he felt Helen Frances's hand on his arm. In agony he watched the bear close.

The Mandarin was running towards Manners's position and with graceful fluidity knelt beside him. A second spear faced the charging bear. Airton could not bear to watch. He heard a gasp from the men around him, a sigh from Helen Frances, and opened his eyes.

The two men were straining under the weight of the bear. She was impaled on the two poles, which bent and swayed above them as her enormous bulk twisted and writhed in her agony. Teeth and curved claws slashed down at her tormentors. Blood and froth drenched them. She was making a determined mewing sound as she herself strained for the kill. Manners and the Mandarin had to duck and sway to keep their unprotected heads out of reach. The beaters had become silent as they watched the desperate struggle of men and beast.

There was a crack like a whiplash. The Mandarin's spear shaft snapped. The bear's paw swung and a backhander smashed into the da ren's shoulder hurling him to the ground. The bulk of the bear sank lower on to Manners's straining spear. The doctor could see his body arc with the effort of pushing up this impossible weight. He knew that soon the spear in the bear's body would tear through the remaining muscle and flesh and the animal would plunge down on to the man and that that must be the end of him. Airton could see the Mandarin crawling groggily away, calling something he could not make out. Then he was aware of loud hoofbeats and Major Lin was riding into the glade, followed by Taro. He saw Lin hurl something towards the Mandarin, who in one movement had caught his bow and quiver and had fitted an arrow to the string. Turning elegantly, he loosed his shaft almost point-blank into the she-bear's breast. At the same moment there was a crash of a gun and the bear's head exploded into blood and pulp. Taro swerved his horse and fired again. The bear slumped on the spear. The struggle ceased.

Then he heard more hoofbeats. ‘Helen Frances! Don't,' he cried. ‘It's still dangerous…' But she was galloping towards Manners, and he was following, and next thing he knew she was off her horse and Manners had stumbled to his feet and she had buried her head against his bloodstained chest.

‘What did I tell you about having a nurse on hand?' said Manners smiling. Then exhaustion hit him and he stumbled to his knees, his head flopped onto her shoulder. An arm seemed to curl naturally round her back and her behind as he fell. Helen Frances, shaking, pressed her body against his. The doctor had dismounted and was hurrying forward, but the sight of the tight embrace—the extraordinary familiarity of it—embarrassed him and he held back. ‘Helen Frances? What are you doing?' Helen Frances's head slowly raised and Airton saw tears in her eyes behind her dislodged hair. She gazed at him blankly, shuddered, and then, with a start, she recognised him. The blood of the bear streaked her cheeks. ‘I'm sorry, Doctor,' she whispered. ‘I thought … I thought…'

‘Never mind, girl. I understand,' he said—although his mind was pounding with a sudden and unwelcome realisation.
‘They are lovers!'
a voice was shouting in his temple. ‘Come on, girl, we must get that jerkin up and over his head. Careful now.'

They lowered the body to the trampled grass. Airton's mind was rushing, but his hands went through the professional motions as he checked Manners's pulse and heartbeat and probed gently for internal injuries.
Lovers!
the suspicion screamed in his mind. My God, what will Nellie say? We abetted it. Oh, Lord! Poor Tom! Helen Frances, the professional nurse again, was calmly staunching the blood from a cut to Manners's upper arm. He groaned, but remained unconscious. The doctor's racing mind was distracted by a sound from the other side of the great carcass, which still loomed above them, now much admired by the gathering beaters. It was the Mandarin's booming voice. He thought of calling over to him to ask if he needed treatment as well, but instead he found himself listening.

‘Colonel Taro.' A trick of the wind brought the Mandarin's voice to him clearly, although he was hidden by the bulk of the bear; nor did the chatter of the beaters obscure the sound. ‘I am obliged to you for your kind attention to saving my life. However, I think you will find that this is my shaft already embedded in the creature's heart.'

It was perhaps the coldness in Taro's reply that made Airton concentrate and listen. ‘Da Ren-sama,' the Japanese hissed, ‘if I had known exactly the foolishness that you and the Englishman intended I would have intervened earlier. You two may kill yourselves at another time, but I remind you that we still have business to conduct, which affects your country and the empire of Japan. I cannot let you or Manners sacrifice our imperial interests in fruitless heroics with a wild animal.'

Had he heard correctly? Imperial interests? What had Manners—or indeed the Mandarin—to do with Japanese Imperial interests?

‘I am disappointed,' the Mandarin replied. ‘I had heard so much about your code of honour—your
bushido
—and had expected a samurai like yourself to appreciate the chivalrous traditions of the hunt.'

‘Da Ren-sama, please do not play with me. You of all people know that war is not a sport, and neither is the business of taking power. I have come to these mountains not to hunt but because the agreement that Manners and Lin are broking has reached a satisfactory conclusion where you and I can agree.'

‘Perhaps we can agree. I need to hear the details.'

‘You will hear the details tonight—from Manners who, thank Providence and the accuracy of my rifle, is still a living man.'

‘It may be that I will meet you tonight. However, I have another meeting, which has a bearing on this matter.'

‘Another meeting? Here?… I see … So-o … You're still negotiating with those bandits for Russian guns? I should have guessed. That's why we're in the Black Hills, is it? And you talk to me of honour, Da Ren-sama?'

‘Colonel, for there to be a bargain there must always be another bid with which to compare it. All life is negotiation and compromise of one kind or another. I think that you are experienced enough to know that—even though you are still very young.'

‘I have no wish to be old, Da Ren-sama, as you are lucky still to be. But I will bargain … for a while longer.' The doctor heard the sound of fading hoofs. Taro had ridden off.

Airton shook himself back to his task in hand. ‘Put his shirt on him again, Helen Frances. Don't want him catching a chill.' But guns? Imperial Japanese interests? Negotiations with bandits? These were the words that repeated themselves like exploding mines inside his brain. With horror Airton looked down at the man he was treating, and experienced a tremor of repulsion. Manners was stirring out of his swoon but his eyes were still closed, his head cushioned in Helen Frances's lap, and there was a trace of a smile on his handsome brown face. Who was this man? What was he up to? It sounded like treason. Certainly it must be villainy. But if that were true…? And if it was true that Helen Frances had become involved with such a man…? A criminal? A gun-runner? For the moment the reaction of an angry Nellie when she heard about it was uppermost in his mind. Then he realised something else. The Mandarin was in on this too! The man he had trusted since he arrived in Shishan. His friend. His benefactor. The man whose wise advice he had looked forward to receiving this very day about the Boxers, his children, Ah Lee's unjust punishment, the disturbing overtones in that courtier's remarks about the Christians—important matters of life and death that affected the whole community in the doctor's charge. Yet he had just heard this paladin discuss gunrunning with an agent from a foreign power! And proposing a meeting with bandits! Bandits who in the past the Mandarin had sent expeditions against. Or had he? Had anything not been a lie? Whom could he now trust?