China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

though transforming himself into another animal. Maybe a cat? If so, a feral cat. Or something else, still more deadly, a creature that Guanji did not know. A serpent cat, perhaps.

The Taiping was passing his long knife between his hands, from side to side, rhythmically. It was almost hypnotic to watch.

Guanji’s sword was longer that the Taiping’s knife. That should give him the advantage. But as the Taiping moved in a swaying crouch towards him, he knew it did not. This was no ordinary soldier. This was a pirate, a street brigand, who had killed many men.

Then Guanji knew that he was going to die. He kept his sword up, but he took a step back.

Was the Taiping smiling? No, he might have been, but he was not. He knew he was going to kill his man. It would be quick, clean.

Guanji took one more step back. The torchbearers did not move. The Taiping was fully in the torchlight, Guanji almost in shadow. But it made no difference. Guanji saw the Taiping’s feet twitch. He was about to spring. Guanji tensed, gripped his sword.

The woman came from the shadows so suddenly that no one even saw her. She barreled into the torchbearer nearest the Taiping officer, seizing his torch, which she thrust towards the officer’s face.

But there was no need. The Taiping officer had been distracted. Not for long. Not even for a second. But long enough for Guanji.

Instinctively, he leaped forward and lunged with his sword into the Taiping’s chest. The man’s knees buckled. With all his strength, Guanji ripped the sword down, to open the wound, and out.

He heard the woman cry: “Run. This way. Quick!” He felt her grabbing his arm.

The torchbearers and the half-dozen troops were so surprised they hadn’t even started to move as Guanji and the woman fled into the shadows.

At the edge of the square she pushed him into an alley and commanded again, “Run,” as she flung the torch back at the pursuing soldiers.

He couldn’t see where he was going, but she was right behind him. He stumbled, felt her strong arm under his, and righted himself. There were shouts behind them. They were still being pursued.

“To the end, turn left, then turn right,” the woman’s voice said. “Keep running. I’ll catch up with you.”

At the end of the alley he made the turn and suddenly realized that she was no longer with him. Ten yards farther, as he turned right, he heard a scream behind him. A woman’s scream. She screamed again. He paused. Should he go back? He had to help her. But he also had to get away. He had to report. By the sound of it, the woman might already be dead. He ran on. He could hear the sound of running steps behind him. It must be one of the Taiping troops. Ahead, he could just see that the alley ended in a dimly lit street. He got to the street. Empty, except for a single lamp hanging from a house. He threw himself to one side and gripped his sword. He’d kill his Taiping pursuer as he came out of the alley.

And was in the act of lunging when he saw that it was the Manchu woman.

“Come,” she said, turning up the street. “The garrison’s this way.”

“I thought you were dead,” he said. “I heard you scream twice.”

“That’s because there were two of them.” She glanced at him and gave a grim smile. “I scream when I kill.”

“Thank you,” he said.

—

The brigade general was pleased with them both, for Guanji told him exactly what happened, including how the woman had saved his life.

The Mongolian gave her a small bag of silver.

“You don’t have to pay me,” she said.

“You have children?”

“Yes.”

“Then take the money,” said the Mongolian.

“Everything you said was right,” said Guanji as soon as she was gone. “We can take the Taiping camp tonight, and the ones in the yamen, too.”

“We can, but we can’t,” the Mongolian answered. “I spoke to the army council while you were gone. They won’t risk anything at night. But we can attack in the morning.”

“The Taiping may have gone by then, sir,” Guanji protested.

“Probably.”

“Then my mission was for nothing.”

“Don’t say that. You had your moment of truth.” He smiled. “And you may have killed a senior Taiping officer.”

“Thanks to the woman,” Guanji reminded him.

“If you’re going to be a general,” said Genghis, “you’d better learn something. Never miss a chance to claim a victory for yourself. It’s the only thing people want to hear.”

“I’ll remember that, sir. Though I doubt I’ll ever be a general.”

“Why not? You’ve proved that you possess the one thing a general needs.”

“Really, sir? What’s that?”

The Mongolian grinned and put a little snuff on the back of his hand. “Luck.”

◦

It was in August of that year that the bespectacled General Li and his Taiping army finally came to Shanghai. They were confident of success.

During the last six months, all the clever plans of General Li had worked. The feint up to Hangzhou had fooled the emperor’s men entirely. The huge detachment of the Southern Grand Battalion that had gone to relieve Hangzhou had left the remaining army outside Nanjing severely weakened. Slipping back from Hangzhou by night marches, the Taiping had taken the emperor’s men completely by surprise and devastated them.

Even better—and this General Li had not foreseen—the Southern Grand Battalion troops, having discovered their mistake, didn’t race back to Nanjing to see if they could save the situation. When they discovered that even the rear guard of the Taiping had given them the slip in the night, they went into Hangzhou and looted the town. Raped, killed, and pillaged their own side—Han Chinese and Manchu alike. Not a way to make the emperor’s government popular with his people.

Hangzhou had been a success for General Li, no question. Except for one sadness. He’d lost his best commander. Nio.

Well, not quite lost him. Badly wounded, arresting a spy. His men wouldn’t leave him for