The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  ‘A friend,’ the general growled. ‘How is it that my nephew knows you?’

  ‘My father and I assisted Commander Tung when he was in the Land of the Golden Mountain.’

  ‘He spoke of your help,’ the general said. ‘He said that you were a Western-trained doctor of medicine.’

  Andrew did not think it wise to correct the feared Chinese general about his qualifications. A final year medical student was not a registered doctor. ‘I am,’ he lied once again.

  ‘I have need of medical men to treat my sick and wounded,’ the general said. ‘As a prisoner of the Empress, you will be supplied with medical supplies that we have captured from the missionary stations and go about the work of treating my men.’

  ‘Most Honourable General,’ Han said, attempting to hold onto the last scraps of whatever he could retrieve from the dangerous situation that he had put himself in. ‘The woman is to be returned to me.’

  The general glowered at Han. ‘She remains with Commander Tung, and the prisoner will also be placed in his custody. You are dismissed, Commander Han, to return to your post on the lines.’

  Kowtowing again, Han retreated from the room but as he passed Andrew he cast him a look that spelled death and Andrew had no doubt that he would have to protect his back at all times from this man.

  ‘Dr Wong,’ the general said when Han was out of the room, ‘you are now a prisoner, but will be treated with courtesy, so long as you comply with my wishes and directions from Commander Tung. He has told me how you risked much in your country to protect him and, more importantly, how you aided his mission. You will meet with your sister.’

  Andrew could hardly believe how his fortunes had changed in a matter of minutes. He also realised that if not for his relationship with his former friend, Tung Chi, he would have been dead.

  ‘I thank you, most Honourable General,’ Andrew replied, kowtowing. ‘I promise on my life that I will carry out my sacred mission to assist the sick and wounded.’

  ‘Take Dr Wong to Commander Tung,’ the general said, turning to one of the aides standing by his elbow. ‘Make sure that he is kept safe at all times.’

  The general left the room, followed by his staff of uniformed army officers. How strange it was, Andrew thought, that he could not hate all these people who were seen by the Europeans at the besieged legation as being little more than barbaric savages. That he was granted the respect of a healer meant a lot to Andrew, and he had no concern that he would be treating the sick and wounded of a people considered the enemy. He was, after all, a doctor in their eyes.

  But as he was being escorted from the palace to meet with Tung, Andrew felt more nervous than frightened. Soon Tung would come to learn of his betrayal. How would he react?

  A huge, well-fed dog nosed among the scattered bones in front of the legation barricades. It snatched a thigh bone and scuttled away to enjoy the feast that the Europeans had provided in the vicious fighting.

  Robert had joined many others who now dared raise their heads and scramble onto the top of the sandbags to survey the silent scene before them. The truce seemed to be holding, he mused, as many of the former enemy approached their positions without any sign of malice. When he looked back from his new perspective of the legation he noticed that many of the old, familiar landmarks were now little more than rubble. He spotted Kai, formerly Dr Morrison’s servant, approaching the lines and wearing the colourful uniform of a Boxer. He could see that the man, who had mysteriously disappeared during the fighting weeks earlier, had been wounded. Dried blood discoloured his uniform.

  ‘Kai,’ Robert called. ‘You old rascal. What are you doing in the uniform of our enemies?’

  The old Chinese man, his face a mask of misery, looked up at the British officer.

  ‘Sir, it is good to see you,’ he replied.

  ‘Why is it that you are wearing the uniform of our enemy?’ Robert repeated.

  ‘I went to see my cousin in the city,’ Kai answered. ‘I thought that he might have food but he turned me over to the Boxers and they made me fight with them. But now I want to return to my master, Dr Morrison.’

  ‘Dr Morrison has been seriously wounded,’ Robert chided. ‘Because you were not there to defend him.’

  Kai’s face crumpled. ‘I, too, have been wounded,’ the old man whined. ‘I must go to my master.’

  ‘You would not do that, you old scoundrel,’ Robert said. ‘Unless you knew something of importance.’

  Kai screwed up his wizened face. ‘The Boxers and the army are sick of fighting, and we have heard that great battles have been fought from the Taku forts to Tientsin. Many are being sent to fight there.’

  The news caused Robert to take a deep breath. From what the old servant had said it appeared a force was indeed fighting its way towards them and, for an instant, he felt no need to punish the old man for his treachery; he had relayed the best news he had received in all the time of the siege. The vital intelligence had been unwittingly relayed. ‘You can enter and go to Dr Morrison,’ Robert said gruffly.

  It was time to pass on the valuable information to Sir Claude MacDonald. Robert had already calculated that their siege was far from over but now there was hope – so long as they held out in the legation and wisely ignored the pleas of the enemy to leave.

  Sitting with his back to a tree inside the legation, John leaned on his rifle, staring blankly at the soldiers and civilians who passed by. He was tired and despondent. The killing never ceased and he doubted that the truce would last. Andrew was missing – just as Naomi was – somewhere in the city. At least with the truce he had the opportunity to plan a way of resuming his search.

  ‘John.’

  He snapped from his reverie to focus on Liza. From the weary expression and dark circles under her eyes he could see the siege was taking its toll on her. ‘Liza,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘Would you like to sit down with me and share the shade?’

  Liza sat beside John on the dry earth under the bulletpocked tree. ‘I have heard about Andrew and Liling,’ she said. ‘I am sorry for your loss.’

  ‘If I know my son,’ John said, ‘he is still alive, having talked his way out of any trouble, and in time will rejoin us.’

  ‘Why did he leave?’ Liza asked, turning to gaze at the profile of the man who seemed to occupy her thoughts more and more each day.

  ‘He was searching for his sister,’ John sighed, leaning back against the substantial trunk of the tree. ‘It is funny how much they used to fight when they were young, but he was the most protective brother any sister could have.’

  ‘I have read a notice on the board at the Bell Tower that a combined force of 11,000 troops are on their way to relieve us,’ she said. ‘Colonel Shiba was able to get a messenger through to Tientsin and back with the good news. It will not be long before we will be relieved and you will be able to go in search of your son and daughter.’

  ‘I will not wait that long,’ John said softly. ‘I am only here for one purpose.’ He ceased speaking when he noticed the look of hurt cross Liza’s face. ‘But I would like you to leave with us when we return to Queensland.’

  ‘I could not do that,’ Liza said, looking away from John.

  ‘Why not?’ John asked. ‘What is holding you back?’

  ‘It is something that you would not understand,’ Liza replied, not daring to look at him.

  ‘I love you,’ John said, grasping Liza by the shoulders. ‘I would like to share the rest of my life with you.’

  Liza shook off John’s hands and stood up. He could see tears streaming down her face which she attempted to wipe away with the back of her sleeve. ‘I must return to the hospital,’ she said. ‘And you must pursue your foolish idea of going in search of your son and daughter when the situation is still so dangerous.’

  Liza walked away. Was she so unimportant that this man who professed to love her would risk getting himself killed and still expect her to believe he really loved her? The memory of another young man
from a time not so long ago flooded her thoughts. He had chosen to enlist and fight in Cuba against the Spanish. Had he not promised to return and wed her? But all he found in his choice was a grave on foreign soil. She was no longer a young girl but a mature woman and had learned that men such as her former fiancé, and now John Wong, were men who chose to face death without much thought for those whom they loved and left behind.

  John watched Liza walk away and was confused. He cursed himself. What had he said that could cause Liza to doubt his love for her? ‘Talk to her, you bloody fool,’ he muttered to himself, and was just about to follow when he was surprised to see Kai at the end of the street. ‘Kai!’ he called.

  The servant stopped walking and turned to face John who had caught up with him. ‘Mr Wong, it is good to see that you are well,’ Kai said, bowing respectfully.

  ‘Have you been in the city all the time that you were missing from here?’ John asked.

  ‘Yes, Mr Wong,’ Kai replied. ‘And I have seen your daughter, who is well, but I could not speak to her.’

  ‘You have seen my daughter!’ John gasped, grasping the little man by the shoulders. ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ Kai replied. ‘She is a prisoner of Commander Tung, but he treats her well.’

  Tung! John knew that the name was held by many Chinese. And as far as he knew, his former travelling companion was also a high-ranking Boxer.

  ‘What do you know of this Commander Tung?’ John asked.

  ‘He is the general’s nephew and was once a revered Shaolin priest who speaks your language and has travelled beyond our lands.’

  It had to be the same man, John exalted. If so, he must have discovered Naomi’s identity.

  ‘What of Master Andrew?’ John asked, but Kai shook his head. ‘Where did you see Miss Wong?’

  ‘She is being held by Commander Tung on the Street of Dragons,’ Kai answered. ‘But I think she may not be there now as the general has been ordered to take his troops to fight at Tientsin. Commander Tung will probably go with him and if so he will take Miss Wong also.’

  ‘Has the general left yet?’ John asked, holding his breath for the answer.

  ‘He left this morning when the truce was called,’ Kai said, noticing the expression of bitter disappointment sweep across the big Eurasian’s face. ‘But he might have left his prisoners behind,’ he hurried to add.

  Andrew knew something was very wrong. On the way out of the general’s headquarters one of Han’s bodyguard had intercepted his escort. A heated discussion occurred that Andrew could not hear but the Boxer from Han’s bodyguard turned to the men escorting Andrew and barked, ‘Bind the prisoner.’

  The guards immediately fell on him, securing his hands tightly behind his back with rope.

  ‘Am I to be taken to Commander Tung?’ Andrew asked Han’s man as he was pushed forward at the end of a bayonet.

  ‘It seems that the general is to leave the city for the front at Tientsin,’ Han’s bodyguard sneered triumphantly. ‘His influence is not so well established with the Boxer command here, and you are now Commander Han’s to dispose of. You can forget ever seeing your sister again.’

  Andrew was propelled forward to slam into the hard earth.

  ‘Get up, dog of the barbarians,’ his guard snarled. ‘The Honourable Commander Han has a fate for you that will make you wish I had killed you with my bayonet.’

  Struggling to his feet, Andrew felt the total despair of a man standing on the scaffold staring at the noose to be placed around his neck. Although he suspected hanging would have been a merciful death compared to what Han might have planned for him.

  ‘First, I will smash your knees,’ Andrew’s guard said with a cruel smile. ‘Then I will smash your elbows, before slinging you over a pot of boiling water, where I will lower you slowly into the pot. You will scream to be killed but I will ensure that you stay alive to feel the flesh peel from your bones before death eventually comes to you.’

  Bound and helpless in the stifling heat of the room, Andrew broke into a sweat and fought to control his bowels lest they let go in his terror. He had already seen the large metal pot being set over timber and overheard the guards laying bets as to how long he would live when lowered into the boiling water. ‘Please, God, grant me mercy,’ Andrew prayed softly as his guard stood over him, stinking of sweat and fish.

  Han had not appreciated his efforts to protect him before the general, Andrew thought bitterly. What kind of demon had his sister been forced to endure?

  ‘When?’ Andrew rasped.

  ‘When do I get to execute you for the Honourable Commander Tung?’ the guard asked. ‘As soon as the water boils.’

  Andrew dared not look again through the narrow door at the pot being tended by Han’s soldiers in the courtyard littered with the rubbish of occupation. All he could do was to continue praying for a quick death.

  ‘Bring the prisoner,’ Han’s voice called from the courtyard.

  The guard grabbed Andrew by the hair, pulling him to his feet. There was no point resisting, Andrew knew.

  ‘I can walk on my own,’ Andrew said to his guard.

  He walked from the room into the blazing sunshine to see around twenty Boxers standing in a semi-circle around the pot, keen to observe the puppet of the foreign devils die a slow and agonising death. A solidly built Chinese soldier, stripped to the waist, swung a length of hard timber while two uniformed soldiers left the semi-circle, advancing on Andrew. When they reached him they untied his ropes and seized him by the arms. The Boxer with the length of timber approached and it was obvious that he was going to smash Andrew’s limbs. Casting desperately around him, Andrew sought a miracle to save his life, but all he saw was Han’s impassive face staring back at him. Andrew promised himself that he would not cry out for mercy, as that would be futile.

  The two soldiers forced Andrew to the ground on his back and two more Boxers joined them to grip Andrew’s ankles, while the Boxer with the timber raised above his head loomed over him.

  ‘This is the death we grant those who would come to invade our sacred lands,’ Han orated to the assembled Boxers. ‘This man is of our blood, and like those dogs who accept the religion of the foreign devils among us, he will experience the death due to those who would sacrifice our children and drink their blood.’

  A short silence followed and Andrew closed his eyes, preparing for the searing pain he knew would come when the timber connected with his knees. He could feel the vomit already rising in his throat.

  The blow did not eventuate and Andrew opened his eyes. Rolling his head to the side, he could see through the legs of his guards many other legs on the other side of the courtyard. A heated conversation was underway between Han and an intruder backed by many men.

  ‘Get him to his feet,’ Andrew’s guard growled.

  Andrew was hoisted grudgingly to his feet. The sun was in his eyes and he shaded his eyes to try to see the newcomers.

  ‘Bring the prisoner to me,’ a voice he recognised commanded.

  Andrew wanted to cry with joy. He was propelled roughly forward, stumbling, his legs still devoid of strength as he recovered psychologically from how close he had come to an agonising death. Tung was dressed in a uniform of black and scarlet and on either side of his saviour were men similarly dressed and armed with modern rifles casually pointed at Han’s warriors.

  ‘He is my prisoner,’ Han spat at Tung’s feet. ‘I have deemed that he die in an appropriate manner befitting his crimes.’

  ‘He is my prisoner, on the directions of General Tung Fu-hsiang,’ Tung said. ‘I have come to claim him in the name of the Honourable General.’

  ‘The general is no longer in the city,’ Han sneered. ‘And you are a commander in the Boxer cause and not under the direct command of the Empress. You carry no more authority than me in these matters.’

  ‘You speak treachery, Commander Han,’ Tung said menacingly. ‘It is her will that we fight alongside our brothers in her army and the Gene
ral is one of the Empress’s favourites. Would you dare question her authority?’

  Han reddened to the point that Andrew thought the man might suffer a heart attack. Clearly Tung’s quiet authority was causing his opposite to lose face. That and the many guns facing Han’s warriors in the courtyard.

  ‘Take the man,’ Han finally relented, turning his back as if the matter was not really of any great importance.

  Andrew was left standing alone. Without further ado, Tung ordered his men to take him with them. As they edged away from the confrontation with Han and his men, Tung appeared to ignore Andrew and continued to do so as they marched along the street. Andrew accepted being ignored. He was simply grateful that his former friend had saved his life.

  Early August 1900

  Pekin

  The stone splinters smacked John Wong in the cheek and he instinctively flung himself to the floor of Robert’s quarters. The so-called truce had done little to stop sharpshooters seeking targets of opportunity, and John realised that the stone dragon had been directly in line with his head when the bullet entered the ruins of the room.

  Warily, he sat up and rubbed his cheek, at the same time lining up the direction of the shot to see a Chinese soldier slither away from a rooftop at the edge of the defences.

  John eased himself over to the table and picked the rock up. A small chunk had been bitten out of the rock by the bullet, taking a section of the delicate fossilised bone of the little dragon’s rear leg. ‘Better your leg than my head,’ John muttered, turning the rock over in his hand. It had saved his life and he suddenly felt a strange sense of gratitude. The dragon was now his talisman and John wrapped the rock in an old, worn shirt to protect it from stray bullets or shrapnel. On second thoughts he dug a hole and buried the rock in a corner of the quarters. Satisfied with this added protection, he slung his rifle and went in search of Robert to propose a plan.