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

of the same family. But, Highness, this morning your slave has just caught sight of General Gordon. And it is the same man! It is General Gordon who took the pendant.”

“You are sure of this?” the prince demanded. “You could not be mistaken?”

“I am sure, Highness. I never saw eyes like that on any man. I swear it upon my life.”

“Never mind your life,” he replied with a smile. “But I trust your judgment.” He considered. “After the official audience, I shall tell Gordon I want a private word with him, in one of the antechambers. I want you there, in respectful attendance—silent, of course, but where he can’t fail to see you. Do you think he’ll recognize you?”

“Probably not, Highness. But if the subject of the pendant is raised, he might.”

“Good,” he said. “Be there.”

—

I must say, Goh-Dun looked every inch a general by now. His eyes were even more piercing than I’d remembered, and he had an unmistakable air of command.

“My dear Gordon,” said Prince Gong. “I wanted the chance to thank you and congratulate you in private. You know there is talk of awarding you a Yellow Jacket. I can’t promise, of course, but I’m much inclined to recommend it.”

“Your Highness is too kind,” Gordon replied with a bow. I could see he was pleased.

“I wonder,” said the prince most politely, “if I might ask you a personal favor. It concerns my dear aunt.”

“If I can be of help, of course,” said Gordon, looking a little puzzled.

“At the time that British troops first went to the Summer Palace, where my aunt had been living, she unfortunately lost a jadeite pendant. It was of great sentimental value because my father the emperor had given it to her. I have often wondered if it might have been picked up. It would give great joy to our family if it could ever be found.”

“I see,” said Gordon.

“I can describe it for you,” said Prince Gong. And he did so, precisely.

Gordon frowned. Then he looked at me, as if he was trying to remember something.

The next day the jade pendant arrived. It came with a note from Gordon; and Prince Gong was good enough to send for me so that I might hear it.

When the valuables had all been gathered together, Gordon explained, the best of the small pieces had been reserved to go into museums in his country that would exhibit the wondrous arts of the Celestial Kingdom. This pendant—which he was sure from the description must be the one in question—had been reserved in this way. If, however, this was not the one, he would gladly institute further searches.

“Let us compose a reply,” said Prince Gong, and he called in his secretary. “My dear Gordon,” he dictated, “this is indeed the lost pendant, and my aunt is overjoyed. Both she and I thank you for going to so much trouble. My memory is bad, I forget things constantly, but I can assure you that your kindness in this matter will never be forgotten by either my aunt or me.” He gave a wry smile. “Well, Lacquer Nail, what do you think of that reply?”

“It seems to me like a work of art, Highness,” I answered, “because of its symmetry.”

“Explain.”

“It is implied, Highness, that you will remember the return of the pendant, yet forget the original theft. Therefore your reply seems to me to be perfectly balanced, like a poem or a work of art.”

“Excellent, Lacquer Nail. You could have been a scholar.”

I bowed low. “May your slave ask, Highness, if there is a name for communications of this kind?” I ventured.

“Certainly,” he said. “It’s called diplomacy.”

Yet here is a curious thing. Months after this, when the Taiping had been finally destroyed and Gordon, his work done, was preparing to leave China, the imperial court not only honored him with the Yellow Jacket, but gave him a large gift of money to show their appreciation. This was entirely proper. Indeed, I have heard that the British Parliament votes large gifts of money to successful commanders.

And Gordon refused the money. Wouldn’t take it. The imperial court was quite offended, for it is great rudeness to refuse a gift. And given the looting of the Summer Palace, in which he had participated, his refusal hardly seemed consistent. So why did he do it? Was looting against his religion? It didn’t seem to affect the other Christian soldiers. Was he punishing himself for having looted before? Or did he think refusing the gift would make him look finer and more heroic than his fellow men? That would be vanity.

Much later he was to die heroically in Egypt, and the whole of Britain mourned him. I should think he’d have liked that.

—

But what of the emperor, north of the Wall, and the Noble Consort Yi?

As soon as Prince Gong had restored order, he begged his brother to return. “The emperor belongs on his throne in Beijing,” he said. That would tell the world that the Son of Heaven was ruling his empire again, and natural order had been restored.

The emperor wouldn’t come. I suppose he must have been ashamed of showing his face in Beijing again. And he may have been afraid of failing if he did take control.

But his staying away didn’t do him any good, either. In all the chaos, the rice harvests were down. The city’s reserves had been used to feed the troops. And when people found only musty rice on sale in the markets, they said the good rice had all been shipped north to feed the court—and blamed the emperor.

Worst of all, when the time came to make the sacrifices to the gods for good harvests, the emperor sent word he couldn’t come and told Prince Gong to perform the sacrifices for him.

“If the Son of Heaven won’t speak to the gods for us, then what’s the good of him?” my father said. That was the general feeling.

So it wasn’t surprising that Prince Gong was becoming more