and that Little An, far from holding a sabre over my head, was still ten feet away, watching. If you want to play double-dares with Flashy, don't do it when there's a polished walnut cabinet reflecting the room behind him.
'Idiot!' snaps Yehonala, and snatching up her spoon she flung it at An's head. 'He doesn't understand a word! You're a snivelling old woman … and a spiteful little worm! Now get out, and leave us alone.'
By George, I was glad to see the brute go; he'd had my innards in a rare turmoil for a few minutes, and I knew that now his suspicions were aroused he'd watch me like a lynx. Even in the small hours, when Yehonala had played us both out, I was still too nervous to go to sleep for fear I babbled in Chinese—and next day, to my consternation, I was confined to my room, with the door locked and a Mongol trooper of the Imperial Guards cavalry on sentry, which had never happened before. I glimpsed him when they brought my dinner—a hulking, shaven- headed rascal in a mail coat and yellow sleeves. I demanded in English to be let out, and they slammed the door on me without a word. I ate little dinner, I can tell you, pacing up and down my room with its high, impossibly tiny windows, asking myself if An had been poisoning her mind with suspicions, but as the day wore on my anxieties changed colour—something strange was doing in the Summer Palace. There was distant bustle in Yehonala's pavilion, voices raised and feet hurrying; outside in the garden, towards evening, there were unmistakable noises of horses going past, and a peremptory voice in Chinese: 'I know the litters are there, but the third one's empty—no cushions or rugs! Why not?' An apologetic mumble, and then: 'Well, get them! And stay with the grooms. If anyone wanders off, he'll walk to Jehol in a cangue!'
So she was going! Was Grant moving at last, then? But there hadn't been a single cannon-shot, ours or the Chinese; he couldn't be advancing on Pekin without some hysterical Tartar touching off a field piece, surely? Tang- chao was less than a dozen miles away—the sound of firing would carry easily … but the afternoon light was fading; it wasn't possible he was coming today, Yehonala's people must have had a false alarm—and then, far-off, there was the brazen whisper of a Manchoo trumpet, and a drum of approaching hoof-beats, a single rider pounding across the sward, voices calling anxiously at the front of the house, and a hoarse cry of alarm:
'The barbarians! Fly for your lives! They are in the city—the streets run with blood! Everyone is dead, the Temple of Heaven is overthrown, the shops are closed!'
I swear it's what he said—and even the last part wasn't true. Not a single allied soldier was in Pekin, nor even a gun threatening its walls, the Manchoo army was watching in vain … but the barbarians were coming, all right. Grant had slipped his hounds without so much as a shout, our cavalry was sweeping in from the north (the last place they might have been expected), with the Frog infantry in support—everyone got lost in the dark and went blundering about famously, but that only added to the Chinese confusion. I knew nothing of that as I listened to the uproar in the pavilion … and now footsteps were padding to my door, it was thrown open, and a eunuch came in, threw me a cloak, and jerked his thumb. I slipped it over the loose tunic and trousers that were my only clothes, and followed him out, my Mongol guard looming behind me as we made our way to the ivory saloon.
The pavilion was in the throes of a flitting. The halls and passage-ways were cluttered with luggage, servants were staggering out under boxes and bundles, eunuchs fussed everywhere, maids were fluttering in silken confusion, and a stalwart young Manchoo Guards officer was barking orders and cuffing heads in an effort to bring them to order (I recognised the peremptory voice from the garden; although I didn't know it yet, this was Jung Lu, Yehonala's old flame and now Imperial Guards commander). Only in the ivory saloon was there comparative peace, with Yehonala looking uncommon fetching in a magnificent snow-leopard robe with a gigantic collar, sitting at ease while Little An fussed about her, and half a dozen of her ladies waited in a respectful semi-circle at the far end, all dressed for the road. She indicated that I should stand by her table, and the Mongol fell in beside me, breathing garlic.
'Why don't they come?' Little An was squeaking; his face was bright with sweat. 'If their soldiers are north of the city, we may be cut off here! How could we escape their devil-cavalry, who speed like flying dragons? Should we not send another messenger, Orchid? What can be keeping them?'
Yehonala stifled a yawn. 'The Empress Dowager will have mislaid her eyebrow tweezers. Stop fussing, Little An—the barbarians are intent on Pekin; they won't come here. Even if they did, Jung Lu has men on the road to bring word.'
Little An glanced round as though he expected to see Elgin climbing in the window, and stooped to whisper. 'And if Sang should come? Have you thought of that? We know who he's after, don't we? Suppose he were to come with riders—what case are we in to resist him, with only a handful of Guards?'
'Sang has enough to do with the barbarians, fool! Besides, he wouldn't dare lay hands on the Empress … or on him.' But I saw the silver nails were drumming gently on the arm of her chair.
'You think there's anything that madman would not dare?' An shrilled. 'I tell you, Orchid Lady—the barbarians can have Pekin for him, so long as he can get his claws on —'
'That will do, Eunuch An-te-hai.' The lovely voice had a dangerous edge. 'You're alarming my ladies, which is bad for their digestions. Another word, and you'll stand on that table and repeat a hundred times: `I beg the ladies' pardon for my unmannerly cowardice, and humbly entreat the Empress of the Western Palace to sentence me to a hundred lashes on my fat little bottom'. And she'll do it, too.'
That sent her ladies into great giggles, and Little An fell sullenly silent. The noises of exodus were dying away in the pavilion; a door slammed, and then there was silence. I strained my ears—if our fellows were north of the city they couldn't be more than five miles away. Yehonala was right; they wouldn't bother with the Summer Palace until Pekin was secure, but if I could make a break, perhaps when we set off … it would be dark …
Brisk footsteps sounded, and the young Guards Commander strode in, halting smartly and bowing his pagoda helmet to his waist. 'The Prince Kung and the Lady Dowager have decided to remain, Concubine Yi, but the others will be here in a few minutes.'
'What can have happened to those tweezers?' says Yehonala. 'And probably the sleeping pantaloons, too. Ah, well. Are the litters ready, Colonel Jung?'
'Three horse palanquins in the court, Orchid, with the carriage for your ladies.' He was breathing hard. 'I've sent the servants' carts ahead, so that they won't delay us, and had all the gates locked. It will be necessary to reach the court by the garden passage —' he pointed to the narrow arch at the far end of the room, where the ladies stood '- and from the court the Avenue of Dawn Enchantment is walled as far as the Jehol road, where I have a troop waiting.' He paused for breath, and Little An cried:
'Why these precautions? Are the barbarians so close?'
Jung ignored him, speaking direct to Yehonala. He was a good-looking lad, in a dense, resolute sort of way; Guards officers much the same the world over, I suppose.
'Not the barbarians, Orchid … no. My rider at the Anting Gate has not reported. But it would be best to leave quickly, as soon as the Empress arrives. There may be … some danger in delay.'
Little An absolutely farted in agitation and was beginning to squeal, but Yehonala cut in. 'Be quiet! What is it, Jung?'
'Perhaps nothing.' He hesitated. 'I stationed my sergeant on the Pekin road, half-way. His horse came in just now—without a rider.' There was silence for a moment, then:
'Sang!' shrills Little An. 'I knew it! What did I say? Lady, there is no time to lose! We must go at once! We must—'
'Without my son?' She was on her feet. 'Jung—go and meet them. Bring them yourself—bring them, Jung, you understand?'
He saluted and strode out, and Yehonala turned to the palpitating An and said quietly: 'Every shadow is not Prince Sang, Little An. Even sergeants fall off their horses sometimes. No, be silent. Whatever has happened, your bleatings will do nothing to help.' She adjusted her fur collar. 'It's cold. Lady Willow, have them put the screen' across the window.'
As her woman pattered to obey, she paced the floor slowly, humming to herself. Outside the sound of Jung's hoof-beats had faded, and we waited in the stillness, the air heavy with suspense. She may have found it cold, but I was sweating—whatever the possible danger, I reckoned Jung was a good judge, and he'd been a sight more worried than he let on. Little An was visibly bursting with silent terrors, in which Sang presumably had the lead role. Well, that was one I could do without … if he bowled in, I could see a pretty little scene ensuing when he recognised one of his star prisoners. Suppose I broke for it now … a bolt for the door, downstairs and into the garden … ? My skin roughened at the thought … the Mongol was at my elbow, stinking to high heaven, never taking his eyes off me -
'Ho-hum, cheer up, Little An,' says Yehonala, pausing in her walk, and prodding him playfully in the stomach.
