My Splendid Concubine

by Lofthouse, Lloyd

  “Two nights after the last theft, the jeweler was followed through the streets to a teahouse where he met a foreign devil. Our agents witnessed the sale.” Wen-hsiang stopped and peered about as if looking for someone listening to the conversation. There was nothing but deserted desks in the large room. Even the servants had been dismissed.

  “Go on,” Robert urged. “I’m a captive, eager audience waiting to discover what happened.” To think that he had helped catch a thief was exciting.

  Wen-hsiang leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. He talked in a conspiratorial tone, which Robert found humorous. “The Empress Tsu Hsi was so impressed with your methods that her spies are being trained to use them.”

  “I’m flattered,” Robert said. “What happened to the thief?”

  “It is a long story, and it is late.”

  “Don’t leave me in suspense. My imagination will keep me awake wondering what happened. We still have time. It isn’t midnight yet.”

  Wen-hsiang smiled slyly.

  “You old devil,” Robert said. “You are playing with me.”

  Wen-hsiang smiled and shrugged. “It is half the fun of telling a good story. Well, the foreign devil and the Han jeweler were placed in chains. The imperial torturer questioned them and discovered that this foreign devil worked for a British man who was planning the thefts, similar to how you wrote out the directions used to catch them. We also learned the name of a eunuch inside the Forbidden City that was putting the stolen items in hollowed out gourds to float across the Grand Canal.”

  Robert held up a hand. “So there were five thieves: the bannerman, a young eunuch, the foreign devil, the jeweler and a British man. Was the first foreign devil you caught also British?”

  “No, he was Japanese.”

  “You are sure he was Japanese?” Robert asked, wondering if he was the same man that followed him in 1856, when he still worked for the British in Ningpo.

  “Yes.” Wen-hsiang nodded. “He lost his Chinese while being tortured, and we had to find someone who understood his barbaric, island tongue. Shall I continue?”

  “Go on. Tell me how they used the gourds.”

  “Retired concubines from previous emperors have these gourds. They carve them to pass the time, and this eunuch borrowed a few.” Wen-hsiang looked nervously about.

  “Get on with it,” Robert said. “No need to keep me waiting. No one is going to hear us talking. The Yamen is guarded by bannermen. Why be so nervous?”

  “The Empress Dowager Tsu Hsi does not want anyone to learn about these methods. She has kept the children to use again. She already has spies inside the Forbidden City. With these children, she now has spies outside the walls too. The information they gather might be useful.”

  “Interesting,” Robert said. He doubted whether the children were sophisticated enough to gather the kind of information that would be useful for ruling an empire.

  “This stupid eunuch would seal the hole in the gourd with a plug and throw it into the Grand Canal that surrounds The Forbidden City. The bannerman waited on the other side and retrieved the gourd and carried it to the Japanese foreign devil, who then contacted the Han jeweler.”

  “Confound it,” Robert said. “Get to the conclusion. We don’t have forever.”

  Wen-hsiang smiled. “Such impatience is unlike you, Our Hart. It was as you said. The jeweler told us how he took each piece apart and made them into other pieces that could not be recognized. He melted the gold and silver and used them to make new pieces of jewelry.”

  “And did you catch the mastermind?”

  The minister’s look of satisfaction dissolved. “Unfortunately, the Japanese thief died before he could tell us who this British man was. We also discovered that the bannerman, the eunuch and the jeweler didn’t know his name.”

  “Did they describe him?”

  “Describe him?” Wen-hsiang looked confused.

  “What he looked like.” Robert said.

  “What good would that do? Most foreign devils look the same. Besides, they never saw him. The Japanese thief was the middleman.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “Wet silk handkerchiefs for the eunuch. The bannerman already had his arms and legs removed. He is being kept alive as an example for the others in his troop. He was put in a cage that hangs inside the barracks so his fellows can see and hear his agony. We cut off the jeweler’s head and sent it to his family. The rest of his body was sliced into thin pieces and fed to fish.”

  Robert shuddered at the horrible images. He had been looking forward to eating, but his appetite was gone now. He’d heard about the wet silk handkerchief method that smothered a person slowly. The condemned was tied to a bench and one wet silk handkerchief after another was put on his face until he died of suffocation. Near the end, the victim’s body strained and heaved with the effort to suck in enough air to stay alive but eventually it became impossible. Death took hours or even days to arrive.

  “Do not share this with anyone?” Wen-hsiang asked.

  “Of course not,” Robert replied. He didn’t see how it could be kept a secret. The horror of the punishment would spread like a fire and be talked about in teahouses as far away as Canton.

  Once word got out that Robert kept secrets, it seemed that every Manchu, Han official or high-ranking military officer Robert met had a complaint to make or sensitive questions to ask.

  Both the Manchu and the Chinese were taking the name ‘Our Hart’ seriously. He could have suggested they change ‘Our Hart’ to ‘Father Confessor’, but he was sure they would not understand.

  Owing to this, the opportunity to get even with Frederick Townsend Ward for the death of Shao-mei appeared. It happened at an imperial party held by one of the princes at his palace in Peking where Robert met the famous Han Chinese General Li Hung-chang. When dinner was served, the general was seated next to him.

  While they were eating, he discovered that Li was also an enemy of Ward. During the conversation, Li revealed that he was experiencing a terrible time working with Ward fighting the Taipings.

  “Ward’s conduct is selfish and careless,” Li said. “His actions have cost the lives of many of my men in combat. What is even more difficult to swallow is that Ward goes around telling others that he is not guilty of what I have accused him of and even worse, he has publicly insulted my intelligence.

  “I feel trapped because the minister of defense has ordered me to continue working with this barbarian. It is a fight I will never win what with Ward blocking my every step. If I discovered an assassin coming for him, I would not stand in the way.”

  Robert was thrilled to hear this. Li was saying this out of frustration and anger, but as the Chinese saying goes, ‘The speaker had no intent when the listener took the words to his heart’. Robert felt this was a God-given opportunity, and he decided to get involved.

  “General,” he said. “I want to invite you to dinner at my quarters near the Yamen later this week.”

  “Agreed. Which day would be best?”

  “Let’s make it Wednesday.”

  “I am glad you asked. I have been eager to meet you since I heard that you want to modernize China. I feel the same. China must manufacture steamships and modern weapons to survive. I am interested in hearing your ideas.”

  “I’m sure there will be much for us to talk about,” Robert replied.

  After Wednesday’s meal, Robert suggested they take a walk in the garden. He didn’t want to take any chances they would be heard by the servants or guards. Alone and surrounded by tall stands of swaying bamboo, Robert broached the subject.

  “We have something else in common besides wanting to modernize China,” he said. “General Ward is also my enemy. He murdered one of my concubines, and I long for justice.” To emphasize the seriousness of his statement, he opened the lid of his black porcelain, hand sized spittoon with the hunting tiger on its side and spit in it.

  When he closed the lid, h
e looked into Li Hung-Chang’s eyes and smiled. “Would you like a cigarette?” He pulled out a box and offered one.

  “Isn’t it amazing how one small match can light such big fires? Imagine if I gave you this match and by accident and it somehow burned Ward’s house in Shanghai. I am sure such a match would be very expensive. Of course, since I was responsible, I would feel obligated to pay for the damage. It would be hoped that Ward would not be home when the fire started. If Ward was home and died, I would have to pay more since it was my match that started the fire.”

  The general’s eyes went from Robert’s face then to the spittoon then to the box of Egyptian gold tipped cigarettes and back again. Without saying a word, Li Hung-Chang took a cigarette. He used the same match to light his cigarette. “That tiger looks fierce,” he said, indicating the spittoon.

  “That’s why I bought it soon after I lost my concubine.”

  Cigarette smoke obscured the general’s face. He said, “I am not surprised that Ward killed your concubine. Such cruelty can be expected of him. If there is anything that I can do to help you gain justice, you have only to speak.”

  Robert held up the blackened match used to light both cigarettes. “How much do you think it will cost to replace this match so we will have one that works? Of course, I’m sure that it will take many men to light the new match and use it properly.”

  A price was mentioned. Although it was an outrageous sum, Robert did not raise an eyebrow. He smiled and threw the dead match to the ground and used the toe of his shoe to push it into the dirt.

  “Yes, I will be willing to pay that price and a handsome bonus to every soldier involved after the objective is achieved. After all, we are doing this to help China rid itself of a parasite. One more thing, Ward must pay for his burial. We will call it a ‘match tax’.

  Three months later, one of Li’s men came to Robert’s house with a box and a note.

  The note said, “The messenger is a family member. He can be trusted. General Frederick Ward has honorably given his life for international peace. Enclosed, please find the ‘match tax’ he paid for the ground he was buried in.”

  Robert opened the box and saw five intricately carved gold rings set with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. They sat on black velvet. The first time he had seen those rings on Ward’s fingers was the day the Devil Solider bought Ayaou. Ward had made sure that everyone saw those rings that night in Shanghai.

  Tears filled Robert’s eyes and slid down his cheeks. Li’s man looked away. The tears weren’t from misery but from relief. He remembered Shao-mei’s smile with her lovely dimples. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  “Ward took off these fancy rings in an attempt to buy back his breath. Shortly before he died, I whispered your name and told him the rings would not buy him his freedom, because they were for the tax he had to pay to be buried. Ward’s body was stabbed, his skull cracked and his jaw dismantled. We even pried out his gold teeth while he still lived. It was a masterful job. His soldiers thought he died of battle wounds. There was no suspicion.”

  Robert handed the box with Ward’s rings to the messenger. “Keep these as a bonus,” he said. “It is fitting that the man who collected the tax keeps it.” The soldier took the box, nodded and left.

  Within days, Robert made a trip to Ningpo. On the way, he stopped in Shanghai where he told Ayaou what had happened. She broke down and cried, and he held her through the night. The child she carried was too close to term, so he felt it best that she stay close to her doctor. He took Guan-jiah with him instead.

  In Ningpo, they went to visit Shao-mei’s grave to let her know that her death had been avenged, but the graveyard no longer existed. There had been a landslide due to heavy rains, and that land was now part of the East China Sea.

  Robert was overwhelmed with grief. He stared at the water where her grave had once been. He couldn’t believe it was gone. How could he tell Ayaou?

  “Master,” Guan-jiah said. “I suggest we buy nine floating lanterns and find a local monk to help light the candles. In this way, we will free Shao-mei’s spirit from the river.”

  It was night when the chanting monk had Robert light incense and let the lanterns glide into the river’s current. A brisk wind was blowing toward the sea. They stood and watched the red paper lanterns float away with the candle flames glowing through the flimsy paper.

  As the lanterns drifted, the flickering flames took on the aspect of a beating heart. Robert held the bunch of incense sticks in his hand while the smoke from the burning tips followed the lanterns like a ghostly fog, and for a moment, he thought he saw Shao-mei’s fading image drifting with the wind.

  If Ayaou had been there, she would have said that her sister’s soul was traveling to meet her. A great weight lifted from Robert’s shoulders as a black spirit spread its wings and flew away from him that night.

  Chapter 48

  Robert was in Peking when the Taiping rebellion, after a lull of several months, erupted, and imperial armies were being defeated one battle after another. The rebels advanced on all fronts until they controlled a third of China.

  When he heard that a Taiping army was approaching Shanghai, he worried for his family and had trouble sleeping since his Shanghai home was in the Chinese section of the city, where vicious fighting against the Taipings had taken place in 1854.

  With a goal to make Shanghai safe for his family, Robert arranged a private meeting with Prince Kung.

  The prince’s office reminded him of the Ningpo house he had shared with the sisters. Bamboo grew in a corner ceramic pot the size of a squat, fat Buddhist monk. A breeze blowing through an open window rattled the stems. There were inked wall hangings that invoked longevity, harmony, peace and tranquility.

  After small talk over tea and slices of fresh fruit, Robert guided the conversation to the state of affairs. “If the Taipings take Shanghai,” he said, “we will see a disruption of duties from customs and the imperial treasury will go dry like a river during a drought. I suggest we ask the British and French for military help.”

  “How can we ask these countries for help against the Longhaired Bandits?” Kung replied. “After all, they caused this plague. If it had not been for the wars started by England and France over opium, there would have been no Christian missionaries and no rebellion.”

  Kung left his desk and walked to a map of the Chinese empire that covered an entire wall and indicated the top of the map. “The Russians are attacking from the north and the French from the south while England takes bites out of the Dynasty in Tientsin, Shanghai, Hong Kong and Canton with help from the others. In addition, they demand we pay reparations for the wars they started. The only peaceful province is Tibet, and that is where they may attack next. The British could bring an army from India.”

  “This is different,” Robert said. He was desperate. It was frustrating how the imperials seemed so blind. It was as if they didn’t believe there was any real danger to the Dynasty. He suspected that Prince Kung and the other royals thought heaven was on their side. Surrounded by tranquil gardens while writing poetry and creating ink paintings of nature, they were in denial.

  “This isn’t like the last time the Taipings occupied Shanghai.” Robert said, “In 1854, the export, import duties were insignificant because of the old system of corruption and bribes. Today, it is different. Most of the imperial treasury flows through Shanghai. Without those gold and silver taels, it will affect the ability of the Dynasty to continue fighting the Taipings. Trade must not be disrupted. I urge that you act soon.”

  Prince Kung carried the message to the Dowagers. A few days later, Robert was instructed to contact representatives from England and France and ask for military assistance. This resulted in England and France warning the Taipings to stay away from Shanghai.

  However, the warnings were ignored, and the Taiping army continued to advance. Foreign and Imperial forces fought together and drove the Taipings back.

  With the situation in the rest
of China growing worse, Prince Kung visited Robert at the Tsungli Yamen.

  “Your help gaining the support of the British and French against the Longhaired Bandits was much appreciated,” Kung said. “The Dowagers want to know if you have any other suggestions to defeat the rebels.”

  The Tsungli Yamen was crowded with busy Han and Manchu ministers. There had to be a reason Kung was asking this in public. Could it be that Prince Kung and the Dowagers wanted others to know about his contributions without an official proclamation?

  Robert resisted the desire to look around and study the reaction. There probably would be nothing to see anyway. In public, the Chinese were experts at hiding their feelings.

  Be bold, he thought. With so many listening, it was possible his opinions would be taken seriously.

  “First,” he said, “I want to point out that since 1644, no Han Chinese has been allowed to command a significant army. There are talented Han generals, but they are being held back. That is hurting the Dynasty.”

  Robert knew this because he had talked in confidence with several Han Chinese officials. He had also heard conversations at the tea and bathhouse he visited on Saturdays.

  “There is a reason the Han do not command powerful armies,” Prince Kung replied.

  Robert detected discomfort in Kung’s eyes and realized he was stepping outside what was considered polite talk.

  “If we allow the Han too much power,” Kung said, “they might eat the Dynasty. Putting Han generals and ministers in important positions in the government and the military is a risk.”

  “It is a risk that must be taken,” Robert replied. “The Taipings are a greater threat. The recent defeats are evidence that there is not enough talent among the Manchu generals.” It was important to keep a serious expression, so Robert did not smile.

  He imagined that everyone in the room was mentally gasping in shock. No one else dared to say what he had just said. The only reason he felt confident that he would get away with such impertinence was because he was a foreign devil and the royals called him Our Hart. Even the Dowagers called him that.