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

has made promises to the British without authorization. Frankly, some of us here even wonder if the barbarians are bribing him.”

“I don’t think so, honored teacher.”

“Be that as it may,” Mr. Wen continued, “it does no harm to the lord Lin’s cause if such things are whispered.”

Shi-Rong frowned. He was quite surprised to discover the old scholar could stoop to this kind of deviousness. Mr. Wen saw it, but was quite unabashed.

“Our words have reached the emperor. He likes the marquis, but he fears that he’s misleading him. He wants to find out what is really going on with these barbarians down in Guangzhou. When the lord Lin wrote that you would be the perfect person to give the court an honest account of what is really happening, we were able to arrange that this suggestion was placed before the emperor.”

“I see.”

“You must be pleased to have the chance to repay the lord Lin for his many kindnesses to you.”

“Mr. Wen, do you believe that Lin could be reinstated?”

“No. The emperor would lose face. But he could be saved punishment.”

“What am I to do?”

“Tell the truth. It’s simple. The marquis has disobeyed the emperor, and he’s running our defenses down.” Mr. Wen paused. “On my way here,” he continued, “I heard a rumor that we’ve just suffered a big defeat in Guangzhou. Do you know anything about that?”

“It’s true.”

“There you are, then. This is the marquis’s fault.”

“It may not be as simple as that,” said Shi-Rong wearily.

“Just remember where your loyalty lies,” said Mr. Wen, and left.

—

A palace eunuch of about his own age came to collect him in the morning. He tut-tutted over Shi-Rong’s condition, treated his saddle sores with ointment, and dressed him in the correct court dress for his modest rank.

“Now you must listen very carefully,” he said, “because etiquette is everything. It can mean success or failure. Even life or death. I am going to tell you everything you need to know—exactly how to enter the emperor’s presence, how to kowtow to him, and how to speak to him.”

So Shi-Rong did his best to concentrate as the eunuch told him all that he must do. But the truth was that he heard only half of it.

Then the eunuch led him through huge red gold-studded gates into the Forbidden City, across its vast spaces, and into the golden-roofed palace in the sky where the Son of Heaven dwelt.

The private audience room wasn’t nearly as big as he’d imagined, hardly larger than the central hall in his father’s house. It contained a throne on which the emperor sat. Shi-Rong was conscious of several officials flanking the throne, but he wasn’t sure how many, because his eyes were cast down.

As required, he knelt and bowed down, carefully touching his head on the floor three times. Having slowly risen to his feet, he knelt down and did the same thing again. Again he rose to his feet, and for the third time knelt and knocked his head on the ground three times more. This was the kowtow of the three kneelings and nine head knockings, the ultimate show of respect.

But having done this, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do next. Was he supposed to rise? Or if not, should he look up at the emperor when he answered questions or keep his eyes on the floor? He knew that when the emperor traveled in his yellow carriage, no one was allowed to look at him, upon pain of death. So he decided to play it safe and remain prostrate, facing the floor, until they told him to do otherwise.

They didn’t.

“Is it true that the marquis has told the barbarians we will pay them five million dollars for the opium confiscated by Commissioner Lin?” It was one of the officials who addressed him.

“This slave declares that it is true,” he answered respectfully.

“Why did you disband the patrol boats?” The same official.

“It was this slave who set up and organized the patrol boats for Governor Lin. Then I was ordered by the marquis to disband them.”

“Did he say why?”

“He told this slave that it was to show the barbarians that we could be their friends, not their enemies.”

“Did the marquis tell the barbarians that they could have access to other ports besides Guangzhou?”

“He indicated that it could be discussed.”

“Did he say they could have the island of Hong Kong?”

“This slave heard him say that such a thing could not even be discussed.”

“Are you certain?” This was a different, softer voice. It was the emperor, he was sure of it. Shi-Rong hesitated.

“Your slave heard him say that the request was out of the question, that it was against all reason, especially when the barbarians still occupied the island of Chusan.” He was so certain that this was the exact truth that, involuntarily, he gave a tiny nod.

“Not quite the same as a no, is it?” said the emperor. Again Shi-Rong hesitated. He was there to defend Lin, to whom he owed everything. But whatever faults the marquis possessed, he’d treated him well. Shi-Rong actually felt a little sorry for him. It seemed that the emperor sensed what was in his mind. “You should say what is in your mind,” he continued.

“Your slave believes that the marquis’s intention was to keep the barbarians talking. He wished to wear them down, either so they could reach an agreement or so that he could strike them when they did not expect it.” Again he gave a nod.

“That is all very well,” said the emperor, “but isn’t it true that the barbarians continued to insist on their demands?”

“It is true, Majesty.”

“What was the marquis planning to do next?”

“He told your slave that he was inviting them to a banquet.”

There was a silence. Then, presumably at a sign from the emperor, another official addressed him. “There is a rumor that the barbarians have mounted a new attack. Is it true?”

“It is true.”

“It doesn’t seem they wanted to come to the banquet,