Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [113]
“Yes,” Kuan Yu said as he stood next to us on the steps. “Arguing, always arguing, and it’s always the same words that run around like water in a circle, wearing down the bedrock.”
“Yes,” Lee Bo agreed, and looked pensive. “Shall we? This is the imperial residence, the English call it the Forbidden City.”
I looked up to the place where the bridge ended at a flat square area just before the gates. Even though our view was largely blocked by the elevation of the bridge and the platform’s edges, it was still clear there were people there—I heard voices and clanging of metal.
“Who’s there?” I asked Lee Bo.
“Only one way to find out.”
He headed up the bridge, Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi catching up to him and flanking him, so that the three walked almost shoulder to shoulder, with Lee Bo a quarter of a step ahead of the others. Something about their formation made me suck the air through my swollen lips and move the satchel into my left hand, while my right rested lightly on the hilt. There were only four of us and unknown multitudes up and ahead—what reason did I have to be nervous?
The men standing in front of the high red walls were Taipings, about twenty in number, and I drew a relieved breath. Dirty and long-haired or not, they were our allies, and I worked hard at trying to like them.
One of the filthy men stopped us by thrusting a spear he held against Lee Bo’s chest sideways, like a gate.
Lee Bo stopped and said something in Chinese.
The man with the spear argued, and Kuan Yu joined in. The volume of their voices increased as the man with the spear only stood, feet planted wide of the chipped gray stone of the platform, and shook his head no.
A few others joined in, and Lee Bo shoved the spear away from his chest. This gesture was followed by further consternation and agitated hand waving. I looked from one group to another helplessly, hoping for some clue in addition to their outward hostility, something that would reassure me the argument would not end in bloodshed.
One of the other guards, a thin and sullen man with a beard long enough to brush against his rope belt, pointed at me. Even though I did not understand his words, I shook my head. “Not English,” I said, rather contradictorily, in English.
The Taipings around us closed ranks and pushed closer, forcing Lee Bo, Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi to push back, almost leaning into our attackers. I kept my hand on my hilt.
The thin man who had spoken to me reached out—his long-fingered, yellowed hand splayed up in the air—and grabbed the front of my uniform jacket, visible between my open furs. I don’t know whether he just wanted to see my insignia or whether it was a gesture of provocation; all I know is that I took an instinctive step back, to give myself room to draw my weapon and to end the unwelcome contact. The buttons and the gold braid, subjected to so much stress by travel and dirt, snapped and my jacket flew open, spitting forth the theatrical bill with Wong Jun’s calligraphy.
I wrestled out of the attacker’s hand, indignant, and quickly closed my uniform and buttoned my furs. Lee Bo tried to grab the bill out of the attacker’s hand, but the other Taipings held him back.
“You don’t understand,” I started. “I am not here to see the Qing, I swear to you . . . ”
But it was already too late, as the thin man pointed at me, shouting, and even though I did not know the word, its meaning resonated loudly. “Traitor!” he called. “An English traitor in our midst, a foreigner, carrying a letter offering alliance to the Qing!”
Lee Bo spun close to the ground, and in a fluid quick motion twisted the spear out of the hands of the large man; his foot swept in a wide semicircle, and the disarmed giant thundered to the ground, landing on his rear and elbows.
I already knew what Kuan Yu and Liu Zhi were capable of doing, but here, free of the confines of the train carriage, they took my breath away. I tried to fight, my saber parrying thrusts from the sword held by one of the Taiping guards, but my efforts were half-hearted, because even the threat to my very life could