Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 4: Flashman and the Dragon, Flashman on the March, Flashman and the Tiger. George Fraser MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ raised a plump finger. “Our guest knows his people better than you do. So, with respect, do I. And they are the last I should try to … persuade, in normal circumstances. But the circumstances are not normal, Sir Harry,” he came back to me. “Shanghai is not a British city; it is the Emperor’s, and you are,” he smiled apologetically, “only his tenants, in an upstairs room. Your lives and property will be safe from us – indeed, your traders will enjoy a freedom unknown under the Manchoos.” He grinned a fat man’s satisfied grin. “You will welcome us. Britain does not want another war in China – certainly not with a regime that offers million-dollar contracts. When did the Manchoos promise as much? They don’t even like your opium!”

      I waited until his laughter had subsided. “Well, sir, if that’s the message I’m to take to Mr Bruce –”

      “Yes, but not yet.” He wagged a finger. “In August. In view of what you have said, it may be better if Mr Bruce has short notice of our intention. We don’t wish him to have too much time to think, and possibly commit some indiscretion.” He beamed shamelessly. “I am quite frank, you see. No, in August you will go back to Shanghai – with a Taiping army two days behind you. That will surely inspire Mr Bruce to a wise decision. And we shall be in good time before Lord Elgin reaches Pekin to conclude a treaty committing him to the losing side. All things considered, he may well decide not to go to Pekin at all.”

      He sat there, a Chinese Pickwick, smacking his lips over his hot wine, while I weighed the essential point.

      “You mean I’m a prisoner here?”

      “A guest – until August. Two months, perhaps? It will be a most pleasant holiday; I am selfish enough to look forward to it. Mr Bruce may wonder what has become of you, but he will hardly inquire after a mere traveller from the London Missionary Society.” Oh, he was a right twinkling bastard, this one. “And you may take satisfaction that you are performing the duty he laid on you – of keeping the Taipings away from Shanghai for the present.” That gave me a horrid start, but he went on amiably. “He will be able to pursue his policy of strict neutrality – until August. Until then, we shall be doing what he wants; he will be doing what we want. It is very satisfactory.”

      He was right, of course. If Bruce knew the Taipings were dead set on Shanghai, he’d have time to reinforce, perhaps even send for Grant. Lull him with inaction, and when the blow fell in August he’d have no choice but to submit to Taiping occupation – although whether we’d accept that quite as tamely as Jen-kan supposed, I was by no means sure. One thing was plain: there wasn’t a ghost of a chance of my escaping to warn Bruce ahead of the fair – not that I had the least inclination, you understand, I knew when I was well off, and would be well content to wallow for a few weeks in the luxuries of the revolution.

      Of these there was no shortage at the pavilion to which Lee conducted me after Jen-kan had gone, jovial to the last. It was another bijou palace surrounded by dwarf gardens, and belonged to Lee’s brother – a genial nonentity who was learning to write, I remember, labouring away at scrolls with a tutor. The apartments I was given were in exquisite taste; I recall the pink jade writing set and inkwell, the sprig of coral mounted on a silver block with gold pencils thrust through the branches, the tiny crystal paperweights on the gleaming walnut desk. The fact that I remember such things is proof that I was feeling pretty easy at the prospect of my captivity; I should have known better.

      Lee hadn’t said a word beyond courtesies after our meeting with Jen-kan, but I sensed an unease in him, and wondered why. It was fairly plain that he disliked the Prime Minister jealously, and I’d no doubt that behind the scenes some very pretty clawing went on among the Wangs, in which I might conceivably be a useful pawn. There was no plumbing that, and since Taiping interest seemed to require my health and happiness, I didn’t care much. But I could see Lee was anxious, and when he took leave of me that night he finally came out with it.

      “In our discussion with his excellency, I sensed – correct me if I am mistaken – that you are not wholly convinced of our ultimate success.” We were alone on the verandah, in the warm evening shadows, and as he turned those cold eyes on me I felt a prickle of disquiet. “I do not ask for a political judgment, you understand, but for a military opinion. You have seen the Imps; you have seen us. Do you believe we shall win?”

      There was only one politic answer, and since it was what I believed, pretty much, I spoke straight out.

      “Barring accidents, you’re bound to. I’d not wager on the Imps, that’s certain.”

      He considered this. “But you do not say that victory is assured, beyond all doubt?”

      “It never is. But any soldier can see when the odds are in his favour.”

      “I can see more.” The yellow-robed figure seemed to grow more erect, and his voice was hard. “I know we shall win.”

      “Well, then, it doesn’t matter what I think.”

      “But it does,” says he, mighty sharp. “It matters what you tell Mr Bruce.”

      So that was the pinch. “I’ll tell Mr Bruce what I’ve just told you,” I assured him. “I believe he’ll have every confidence in your success.” I nearly added “provided you leave Shanghai alone, and don’t provoke the foreign devils”, but decided not to.

      “Confidence,” says he slowly, “is not faith. I could wish you had … absolute faith.”

      He was a fanatic, of course. “You can put more trust in my confidence,” says I lightly. “Faith ain’t a matter of counting guns and divisions.”

      He gave me another keen look, but left it there, and I’d forgotten all about it by the time I turned in. I was pleased to see that Taiping luxury didn’t stop short of the bedroom door; they’d given me a cool, spacious chamber with screens onto the garden, and a great soft bed with red silk mattress and pillows – all that was lacking was the Bearer of Heavenly Decrees. I wondered dreamily as I dropped off if Lee’s brother, being a lesser Wang, would care to rent out one of the new wives he’d just been awarded … or all three, and I could give him confidential reports on endurance, ingenuity, and carnal appetite. Flashy, riding examiner … Gold Medal, Nanking Exhibition, 1860 … a pretty thought, on which I slid into a delightful dream in which the Bearer of Heavenly Decrees appeared as identical triplets who came gliding into the room in green silk dresses and steel-chain collars, bearing scrolls on golden trays, ranging themselves beside my bed and smiling alluringly down at me. I was just debating whether to tackle ’em one at a time, or all three together, when I realised that I couldn’t see their faces any longer, for they were all three wearing black hoods, which seemed deuced odd … and the green dresses were gone, too, under black cloaks …

      I came awake an instant too late to scream. The black figures seemed to swoop down on me, steel fingers were on my mouth and wrists, a heavy cloth was whipped over my head, and I was dragged helpless from the bed by invisible hands.

^a Cuckoo-City-in-the-Clouds (Aristophanes).

       Chapter 7

      There’s no blind terror to compare with it – being hustled along, lurching and stumbling, by invisible attackers. You’re lost, blind, and half-suffocated, you can feel the cruelty in the clutching hands, horrible pain and dissolution await you, and the only thing worse is the moment when the blanket comes off – which mine did before my assailants had taken twenty strides.

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