The War of the Dragon Lady (28 page)

She found that Shiba was, as ever, glad to see her, welcoming her with a full ceremonial bow. Resourceful as ever, she also found that the little colonel had commandeered the old muzzle-loaded gun to repel an attack by loading it with scrap iron. He reported that many, if not all, of Tung Fu-hsiang’s Kansu soldiers had left the Fu
– presumably, he said, to take part in the fighting at Tientsin or even to oppose the relief force. It seemed another confirmation that help was on its way – as was, surely, the intensity of the new firings. But if Tung Fu-hsiang had left for the south, who was now influencing the Dragon Lady?

While she was musing this, there was a cry of warning and Shibo rushed to the wall. The Japanese all began firing rapidly and it was clear that the Chinese had launched an attack. The wall of rubble was loosely loopholed and Alice suddenly realised that, in a far corner where the wall angled away, a rifle was being poked through from the Chinese side. She ducked away and ran towards it as fast as she could, drawing her revolver as she did. She arrived just as it fired and, from the corner of her eye, she saw one of the defenders twist around and fall.

Alice seized the muzzle of the rifle and, in the same movement, presented her Colt through the loophole. She fired as she felt the Chinese gun being pulled away from her and then the rifle went limp in her hands and she pulled it through, throwing it to the ground. Without exposing herself, she fired twice more through the aperture then jammed a brick into the hole.

She sat for a moment against the rubble, the perspiration running down her face, and realised that she was shaking. Ah, this would never do! She shook her head dismissively. She was in the middle of a war and this was not the first time she had killed a man, for goodness’ sake! Why else did she carry a heavy .45 calibre Navy Colt? Certainly not as a fashion accessory. She looked up into the smiling face of Colonel Shiba, who held out a hand to help her to her feet.

‘Very good, madam,’ he said. ‘Very quick. You have gained us
a rifle and removed one of the enemy. I could not ask more. Now, please come away or they shoot you. That must not happen.’

‘Thank you, Colonel. I am quite all right, thank you. Just the heat, you know. Made me want to sit for a moment. Now please get back to the wall.’

‘Attack over, madam. But we must watch.’

‘Indeed. Do go back to your post.’

Alice retreated to one of the many ruined buildings in the Fu and cautiously climbed up the shifting rubble until she could see over the top of the barricade towards the Chinese line. Shielding her eyes against the glare, she looked to where, out of rifle range, the enemy soldiers were moving. She was searching for a white-coloured suit, but nothing stood out amongst the dun-coloured uniforms and occasional green jackets that moved there. But then she frowned. Was that …? Was it a man in a white – but now severely discoloured – jacket and trousers? She couldn’t be sure. She scrambled down the half-destroyed wall, disregarding a cut to her ankle, and ran to Colonel Shiba.

‘Colonel,’ she panted, ‘may I borrow your field glasses for a moment?’

‘Of course, lady.’

Grabbing them less than courteously, Alice ran back to the ruin and clambered back up to the top of the wall. This time she rejected thoughts of safety and exposed herself, the better to get a view. She levelled the glasses and attempted to focus them. Yes, there he was. A man in a white suit! She adjusted the focus more delicately and Gerald’s face came into view, partially concealed by— Hell! He was looking at her through a pair of binoculars. They were undoubtedly
studying each other. She resisted the ridiculous instinct to wave. Was he armed? She moved the glasses just a touch downwards and there, leaning against his leg, was a rifle. She put away the glasses for a moment and wiped her eyes. She must be sure. Then she focused the glasses again and held them steady. Gerald – it was undoubtedly him – had put down the glasses and was looking directly at her before turning to move away. There was no doubt about it, it was her cousin: tall and thin, the rather sallow face, and the mandarin moustache.

And he had a rifle.

That settled it. Whatever doubts Alice had about her cousin’s treachery – and very few remained – they were dispelled now by that fact. Carrying a rifle meant that he was actively taking part in the attacks on the Legation Quarter. He had now completely thrown in his lot with that of the Boxers and the Manchu court. The final count in his indictment had been proven.

Alice climbed down the rubble with care this time but deep in thought. She must inform Sir Claude, of course, for there could now be no chance of allowing Gerald back into the Quarter. The question was, should she now tell Aunt Lizzie about her son’s treachery? She would have to know sooner or later. Better now than later? No. Alice shook her head. Leave it for the moment. Who knew what the future held? There might be some twist of fate in store that could affect the decision. She would let it lie – and she immediately felt better for having made the decision. But oh, Simon …!

The enemy now seemed to have new energy. From all around the perimeter the Chinese trumpets blared and the old cries of ‘
Sha! Sha!
’
were heard from the other sides of the barricades. All day the fire poured down onto the defenders and, as dusk neared, a new sound was heard. It came from a two-inch, quick-firing Krupp, brought to an emplacement high up in the wall of the Imperial City – a site not used before. Immediately Sir Claude – the former subaltern now proving himself to be a skilled defensive soldier – ordered up his two machine guns, the American Colt and the Austrian Maxim, and had them trained on the gun. It was ten minutes before they could be set up to open fire and, in that time, the cannon had begun causing heavy damage – the worst of the siege. Once
in situ
, however, the two machine guns began firing over fixed lines, despite the fall of darkness, and, within minutes, the Krupp was silenced.

The other firing, however, continued. Alice joined her aunt and the rest of the ladies in doing double duties at the hospital as the casualties mounted. Rumours reached the hospital that the defenders were running out of ammunition and Alice retrieved her Colt and tucked it into her waistband as a precaution. Would the relief, now said to be so near, come too late, right at the end? Alice and her hard-working companions in the sweltering heat of the hospital carefully avoided eye contact and got on with their jobs. So, too, did the defenders on the walls and barricades and, although those at the flimsiest defences who were linguists could hear the Chinese officers urging their troops forward, no breaks were made at any point in the perimeter.

The fury continued for two days and, on the evening of the second, Alice was sitting on the ground taking a break outside the hospital, drinking a cup of brackish, lukewarm water, when a Chinese coolie approached her, bowed low and asked: ‘Mrs Fonthill?’ She nodded
and he pressed an envelope into her hand, bowed and walked away quickly before she could question him.

She opened it and read:

Alice put her hand to her head and sighed. Then she read it again. It was all almost certainly rubbish. And yet … Jung Lu, who seemed to have been a moderating influence, had obviously lost the ear of the Empress, if this new, fierce attack was any indication. And did Gerald really have news of Simon? She drew in her breath. She must know. So she would have to go. Tell Sir Claude? No. He would almost certainly try to stop her going or even try to arrest or perhaps even kill Gerald. And that would be disastrous for Aunt Lizzie. She would meet Gerald, for she had nothing to lose. He would not dare to try and restrain her.

She got up, tossed her head and returned to the hospital. Luckily,
she was not on the night shift and so, at ten-thirty she returned to the room she shared with her aunt, who was now fast asleep after a hard day at the hospital. Alice lay sleeplessly on her bed for just over an hour and then rose, pulled on her long riding boots, pushed the Colt into her midriff sash and set off. After ten paces, she returned, retrieved the little French automatic pistol and slipped it into the top and at the back of a riding boot and continued on her way.

Gerald was waiting for her, peering from the low entrance to the tunnel. She paused by the pile of debris. ‘I am not coming in there,’ she hissed.

‘You must. We can easily be overheard outside by the guards on the walls. Come on.’

He held out a hand to her from the blackness and, reluctantly, she climbed the pile of stone and bricks and, ignoring his hand, bent her head and stepped into the tunnel. Immediately, strong hands grabbed her, pulled her far inside and then pinned her arms to her side. She was aware of two men on either side, holding her firmly, and realised that Gerald was pulling bricks back into the entrance, leaving only a shaft of light to penetrate at the top.

‘You little swine,’ she said. ‘So it was all a trick.’

‘Not at all.’ His voice was bland in her ear. ‘Seeing how badly you behaved the last time we met, I felt I needed a little help. These two men are good friends and will do anything I ask, so please do not try and struggle. Now,’ he reached down and withdrew the Colt from her cummerbund and threw it to the ground, ‘you won’t need that.’

‘What do you want? Tell me about Simon.’

‘What do I want? I want you, my sweet, and, one way or another, I will have you.’ His face was close to hers and she could see, now that
her eyes were accustomed to the dim light, that he was perspiring. She could smell tobacco and traces of something sweet – opium? – on his breath. The two men holding her were Chinese. Their faces were quite expressionless.

‘As for Simon, I was telling the truth when I said that he is dead. If he was not, surely you would have heard from him by now, eh?’

‘I don’t believe you. Give me proof.’

‘Alas, dear cousin, I can’t do that. But I have it on good authority that he was blown up, together with that Welsh brute of his, at the gates of Tientsin as he tried to plant dynamite there. Proof will undoubtedly emerge when you come with me.’

Alice felt herself trembling. Was he lying? He was a born liar. Simon Fonthill, her brave, bold, fearless husband could not be dead, particularly not with Jenkins at his side. And yet something about the picture that Gerald had painted so briefly had the ring of truth to it. Planting dynamite at a fortress’s door – that is exactly the sort of thing the two would attempt to do. They had undertaken such daring, hare-brained schemes so often in the past that eventually their luck was bound to run out. Had it happened now? She refused to believe it. She felt her eyes brim with tears. That would never do. She must never give this brute the satisfaction of seeing her crying.

But Gerald was continuing, now with a softened voice. ‘I ask you again to come with me, Alice, to a new life. Here, in China. After this mess, the court and the Foreign Office will be reconstituted and I have been promised a most senior post here. You will be a widow – you
are
a widow – and will need support. With my mother we can live together well in one of the most cultivated countries in the East.’

‘What? In a land where brutal young peasants butcher missionaries
and their wives and children? No thank you.’

‘Look, I am trying to be reasonable. The alternative is horrible to contemplate. These flimsy defences in the Quarter will be torn down, if not tomorrow, then the next day, and you, my dear, will be raped and then subjected to a terrible death. The executioners these days take a hell of a long time to behead someone. I know. I have seen it. I could not prevent that but I can if you come with me now to a safe house. Fetch my mother and we can all leave this horrible place.’

He paused and put his face close to hers. Once again she felt his breath on her cheek. With hardly a thought, Alice gathered a mouthful of saliva and spat in his face.

Her two guards hissed and Gerald staggered back, drew a handkerchief and wiped his face.

‘You bitch,’ he swore. ‘You spoilt, Christian bitch. Very well, you can go back but not before I have finished with you.’ He gave a command to the two men and Alice felt her feet forced apart so that she was spreadeagled against the curved wall. She heard the Chinamen laugh and realised with horror that Gerald was unbuttoning his trousers.

‘I love older women,’ he said, ‘even as old as you.’

She felt a rough hand undo her cummerbund and then the belt beneath it. Then her riding breeches were forced down and fingers inserted between her legs. He pushed his cheek against hers and then inserted his tongue into her ear.

With sudden inspiration, Alice slumped completely, letting her head fall forwards, her legs bend and her forearms and hands flop, so that she suddenly became a rag doll and a weight upon the two Chinese and upon Gerald himself. It was as though she had fainted.
The guard to her right, anxious to assist in the rape, relaxed his grip on her arm to hold her upright around her waist and she reached forward, grasped his testicles through the loose cotton pantaloons and squeezed hard. With a cry, he pushed her away and Alice slumped down, lifted her right leg, grabbed the little automatic from the back of her boot and shot blindly downwards, to her left.

The shot boomed and echoed in the tunnel and it took the man on her left in his foot, so that, cursing, he staggered backwards and then fell over, clutching his foot. Alice stuck the muzzle of her revolver into Gerald’s stomach.

‘Get away from me, or I will blow a hole in you.’