My Splendid Concubine (15 page)

After a few more questions were tossed at Robert like rocks that he couldn
’t catch, Prince Kung turned to Captain Patridge. “This one does not grasp the complexities of Mandarin or Chinese history enough to serve us. We want someone who understands how the Chinese think and is capable of explaining that to the representatives of the foreign powers. If he is the best you can bring us, you are not useful.” A bored expression clouded the prince’s face. They had been dismissed.

Outside, Robert said,
“Why in blazes did you arrange that meeting?” He was fuming with anger. He hated being embarrassed.

“
Don’t let it worry you,” Patridge replied. “The Prince has seen you. That’s what’s important. In China, introductions like this turn priceless later. One day, maybe years from now, he’ll remember this meeting and see the growth of your knowledge and skills.” The captain put a hand on Robert’s arm in a conciliatory gesture. “Look, Robert, I didn’t do this embarrass you. Believe me when I say that I did this with your future in mind.”

With an effort, Robert suppressed his temper.
“I don’t see how. That prince looked like he was still a youth.”

“
He’s older,” Patridge replied. “The Chinese don’t show their age as we do. He’s twenty-two.”

Robert was now motiv
ated to master the Chinese language. He didn’t want to be embarrassed again. He wondered what he could do to learn how the Chinese think. For that to happen, he’d have to live in a Chinese house with Chinese people. He did have Shao-mei. Maybe living with her would help.

The dinner at Ward’s was a repeat of the victory celebration over the Taipings. It was lavish and grand to show off the man’s wealth and power. Robert resolved that if he were in a similar position, his parties would be sedate with people in conversations about art, literature and politics. Men like Ward would never be invited.

Robert sat on one side of Ward while Patridge sat on his other side of the long table. He wanted to be as far from Ward as possible. The room was oppressive with its low, open timbered, and smoke stained ceiling. The only person between Ward and Robert was one of the mercenary
’s concubines. Another concubine sat between Ward and Patridge.

Ward
, sweating profusely, tossed down another glass of brandy. Robert doubted he tasted it. The man’s body gave off a rancid odor like spoiled milk.

“
So, Patridge,” Ward said in his loud, obnoxious voice, “are you joining me on my way to victory at Sungkiang? Here’s a chance to make a name on the battlefield.”

“
Unfortunately, I can’t,” Captain Patridge replied. He lifted his glass of wine and held it out. “I have business to attend to, but I’ll drink to your success.”

Ward waved a finger at one of the concubines. She stepped fo
rward to pour more brandy into his glass. He lifted the glass and clinked it against Patridge’s. Some of the brandy and wine slopped onto the table. “To gold and silver and the women it buys,” he said, and Patridge echoed him. Ward drank half the glass in one gulp.

“
What about you, Hart?” Ward said, slurring his words. “Unwyn
said you fight like a gladiator. He said you took on a dozen Taipings.”

“
He flatters me,” Robert replied. “I had help.”

Ward laughed.
“That’s not the way I heard it.”

“
I understand you bought a new concubine last night named Ayaou,” Robert said, shocked at his boldness. He had to be careful. He had said that without thinking.

“
That bitch.” Ward jerked his jaw to the side signaling for his glass to be refilled. A concubine leaped to obey.

“
She wasn’t to your liking?” Robert asked. He hid his trembling hands under the table and kept them on his lap.

“
I bought her when she was dirty with her cycle, but she paid for it. I showed her who the master was.” Ward lifted the glass to his mouth and spilled half its contents down his bare chest before he slammed it back on the table. “When this battle is won, she is one virgin I’m going to enjoy. She’s too damn delicious! I love breaking a bitch that’s never been ridden.”

Robert clenched his hands into fists. He had always prided hi
mself at controlling his temper. This was a test he wasn’t sure he could win. “Her music was lovely,” he said, choosing his words to lure Ward in while keeping the tone of his voice calm. “Do we hear some tonight? What do you say, Captain Patridge?”

“
That would be pleasant,” Patridge echoed. He watched Robert with narrow eyes.

He
’s wondering what I’m up to,
Robert thought.
Why should he care?
Then he remembered confiding his feelings for Ayaou to Patridge. That had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have told Patridge anything, because the captain might reveal what Robert really wanted.

A
nxiety invaded his stomach, and he lost his appetite. He had felt like this in Belfast when his sister Mary warned him the family knew he was ruining his life with liquor and women. Because of his big mouth, he could lose this opportunity to get Ayaou.

He considered walking away. After all, he did have Shao-mei.
He wouldn’t be alone. She was a willing, sweet girl. And with Shao-mei, there was no crazy Ward to complicate the situation.

“
Ayaou,” Ward said as if he were a bull, “bring that damned Chinese stringed piano out here and play for my guests.”

She glided through the door that led to the kitchen. Robert wan
ted to look at her. With an effort, he denied the desire. He blushed when he remembered the root cellar where he had made love to Ayaou. He realized he could not stop now. He had to have her. He knew it would take every bit of cunning he could muster for a chance at success. He stared at the tabletop afraid that Ward might notice his expression of anxiety. He couldn’t allow anything to give away how he felt and worried about Patridge doing just that.

Ayaou stood behind
Ward. She glared at the painted concubine next to the general and did not look at Robert. He knew that this was probably best, but he had hoped for a smile.

“
Move,” Ward ordered. He didn’t say who should move.

Robert brought one of his hands out from beneath the table and picked up the wineglass. He needed a drink. Food was put in front of him, but he had no appetite. He paid no attention to what it was though he hadn
’t eaten all day. Another platter loaded with beef and pork arrived. The guests speared pieces for their plates. Robert sipped wine.

“
Didn’t you hear me?” Ward shouted. He used the back of his arm to sweep the painted concubine out of her seat. She lost her balance, fell over and cracked her head against the wall. She doubled over in silence and didn’t move for a moment. Then she stood and stumbled from the room. At the door, she hesitated and glanced at Ward with a look that reminded Robert of a puppy that lavished attention on its abusive master. He saw tears in her eyes, but she wasn’t sobbing. Looking as if she had been abandoned, she left.

Robert
understood why Patridge did not like this man. He didn’t like him either. Ward was a disgusting creature. However, Ward was a dangerous man to dislike.

Ayaou slipped into the vacated chair. She placed the
pipa
next to her face and started to play. There was a bruise on her forehead. Seeing it brought Robert’s blood to a boil.
The bastard
, he thought. Robert struggled to stay seated and not smash in the man’s smug expression. It would be stupid to lose control.

Instead, Robert diverted his anger into the winegla
ss. He squeezed it so hard it shattered. He cut himself in the process. A servant cleaned up the mess. Robert wrapped his hand with a cloth napkin to stop the bleeding, and the pain subdued his anger. He decided to do something risky and dangerous. If it didn’t work, it might cost his life.

Ayaou finished the first song and started another. Robert leaned forward and placed his good hand on her arm to stop her.
“General Ward,” he asked, “is that invitation to join you in the attack on Sungkiang still good?”

“
Of course,” Ward replied. “I can use every white man possible. These Orientals can’t think. They botch every battle they get into. It is the primary reason the Taipings have been winning the war. I am going to change that.”

“
I want to join you but on one condition.”

“
What’s that?” Ward swayed in his seat struggling to overcome the alcoholic fog clouding his brain.

“
I’m still mastering Mandarin,” Robert said. “This trip to Shanghai has interrupted my studies.”

“
Why is this important?” Ward slurred his words. He took another swallow of liquor. His forehead and upper lip were beaded with sweat.

“
My career depends on it.”

“
Bring your teacher.”

“
He’s not available.”

“
Come on,” Ward said. “Anyone that speaks Chinese will do.”

“
Anyone? Like whom?”

“
Like one of my concubines,” Ward said. “I’m sure any of them can speak the damned language with you.”

“
How about Ayaou?”

“
That’s possible, but why her?”

“
I know her father, Chou Luk. I know her family.” Robert didn’t say what he thought—that she was supposed to be his woman, not Ward’s.

Ward stared
at Robert, who worried that the American might guess the truth. Ward turned to Captain Patridge. “Is Hart after his lesson, or should I suspect he’s after my virgin?”

“
Oh, he’s after his lesson.” Patridge lied. “The British government pays him to learn Chinese. He isn’t interested in your concubine. Why should he be? He has his pick of them at my summerhouse.”

Patridge wasn
’t watching Ward. He was looking at Robert. His eyes said that Robert owed him, which made Robert uncomfortable.

Maybe Ayaou had been right. Maybe Patridg
e was in it for the money. This confused Robert. How could he benefit this man financially? Patridge was a man who liked telling exaggerated stories and doling out concubines as bed warmers. Who was he to question Patridge’s motives? After all, he had accepted Willow. He had no right to judge Patridge or be suspicious of him.

“
All right,” Ward said. He turned to Ayaou. “Get ready. Do a good job teaching Hart his Chinese. If you don’t, I’ll give you a twin to that bruise you already earned.”

Chapter 9

An eerie silence ruled the night. It hadn’t always been like that. Soon after Ward’s army surrounded Sungkiang, out came the whiskey, and a wild boisterous celebration followed. Robert saw no reason for it. There had been no battle—no victory.

He had been outfitted with a Dreyse needle gun. The wea
pon was slung across his back. It was the first breech loading, bolt-action rifle he’d handled. Ward said the Prussian and German armies used it, and it could fire up to a dozen rounds a minute. Robert also had a Colt revolver. He felt more like a bandit than a soldier.

Ward assigned a hundred of his roughs to be under Robert
’s command. In his crude and clumsy Chinese, Robert talked to the noncommissioned officers in charge of the men under him. “I want to set a guard for tonight and have the men dig a trench between the city and us and fill it with wooden stakes.”

The swarthy men with
pockmarked faces stared at him as if he were some apparition that had sprouted from the ground. They started talking among themselves in a language Robert didn’t understand. It wasn’t Chinese—at least any dialect he’d heard. The group stopped talking. Then they laughed and turned their backs on him and walked away.

He burned with anger and frustration. Soldiers should n
ot act like this. In a real army, he’d be justified to shoot them. If he attempted to punish them now for their insubordination, some of them might shoot back. Robert’s Colt held six rounds, but there were at least a dozen heavily armed men in the group. He felt helpless.

After most of Ward
’s army was dead drunk, Ayaou was escorted to Robert. “It’s about time you came,” he said in a scolding tone. “I’ve wanted to practice my Chinese.” He turned to her guards. “Thank General Ward for me. You may go. I’ll escort her back to his tent later.” He watched the men leave. They were probably going to get drunk.

Ayaou stood shrouded like a dark, cloaked ghost with her face hidden. From where they stood, Sungkiang was below them. A moat and a wall surrounded the city, and a few lights flickered inside. On Ward
’s side of the moat, the Taipings had planted a host of sharp, wooden spikes in the ground to slow the attack planned for morning.

“
We may be the only two sober people here,” Robert said. “Ward is a fool. This army deserves a better leader or the officers a better army.”