Читать книгу Wang the Ninth - B. L. Putnam Weale - Страница 10

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A long hard winter, with the world shrouded in snow, served to dim these impressions but not to efface them.

Wang the Ninth was now no longer a child but a growing boy on whom his father cast jealous looks—as on so much capital that was not bearing due interest. Occasionally by dint of blows and wrathful utterances he made the youth work at the forge, seating him at the first glimmering of dawn before the bellows and watching him so closely that there was never a chance of his stealing away to indulge in his eternal pranks.

When the North wind was blowing, and the highways were bare of traffic, it was not so bad to sit at this task and have the blaze of the white-hot embers warm him. Then the slow, regular pant of the bellows fused with the clang of hammer on the anvil and seemed to him the very incarnation of energy—of a force that drives things along. The boy would sit with his ugly, expressive face gazing straight in front of him. Grasping the wooden handle of the bellows firmly in both hands and stretching his legs wide apart, he would work mechanically, lost in his dreams. All sorts of things would pass in procession before the little leaping flames, the heat affording him a certain sensual satisfaction which expressed itself in the laziness with which he answered his father's occasional remarks.

He would dream that he was lying on soft cushions with all his heart's desires scattered around him. He would tip over piles of coins and watch them idly roll around too indifferent even to pick them up. Barmecide feasts of a nature satisfying even to his voracious appetite would rise before him—mutton and roast ducks and all manner of browned pork heaped on great platters just as they were at the marriage feasts of rich men. Sometimes these fancies became so real that the saliva would trickle down his chin; and his father, noticing it, would inquire what was the matter.

"I am hungry," he would answer laconically, refusing to make any confidences and returning to his dreams.

That was when the weather was bad and the bitter North winds blew.

But when the sun shone, even in cold winter it was almost impossible to keep the boy at his task; he escaped by the use of amazing stratagems, disappearing beyond all quest and only returning when it was dark. He would never tell his father where he went; even a beating would not make him confess. Why should he give away his secrets—all the wonderful hiding-places he had discovered, where he went with an impudence and a cunning that were sublime?

He knew, for instance, by going along the ice of the Imperial Canal, how to slip under the bars of the magnificent barge-house where the Imperial barges were docked all winter. He had at first not dared to do more than peer in—pretending, when any one appeared even in the far distance, that he had fallen down whilst indulging in the delectable pastime of sliding on the ice by means of an iron runner fastened to one foot as all the boys in the neighbourhood did. But that was in the early stages of the game. Soon he accustomed himself to pushing open impudently the sliding-bars; and then by creeping right inside along a narrow stone parapet he finally was actually on the barges. There he would sit himself on the broad comfortable seats, and for want of something better to do would roll about on them like a dog. Once he had asked a pedlar friend what would happen if any one were found inside the Imperial barge-house.

"He would be promptly killed," had answered the man. "But then nobody would dare such folly."

The reply had set him pondering. Of course, the guards might catch him one day: he did not wish to be killed.

After the pedlar's remark he used always to loiter past the guard-houses to see what the guards were doing. It was their amazing sloth which led him step by step to complete indifference. They were always sleeping or eating or going off into the city leaving the youngest recruit nominally on duty. Once he surprised them all drunk as a result of a weight-lifting contest with great stones, in which the losers had to pay the forfeit in wine. They were lying around the guard-house so stupefied that it would have been easy to enter and rob them of their arms!

One summer he conceived the audacious plan of viewing from a safe hiding-place the whole Imperial Family as it embarked on the barges for the beautiful lakes in the Hills. Every one in the neighbourhood was talking about it: as usual the great ones would leave the city in the sixth month when the great heat had commenced. On such occasions every soul of the common herd was shut indoors to permit the cortège to pass in perfect seclusion. Blue cloth screens were hung along the roadway, and although many declared that by putting their eyes to cracks in their windows they had caught glimpses of the magnificent sedan-chairs and the hosts of retainers, not one of them had ever looked on the face of the great emperor or the great empress.

By dint of watching closely, Wang the Ninth was able to judge when the fateful hour was fast approaching; for the barges were being beautifully polished and were taken out for exercise precisely as if they had been living things. It was no longer safe even to go near them; the guards had become suddenly diligent and would not tolerate the slightest deviation from the fixed rules.

By entering into conversation with them and by running errands for some of them, he at length discovered precisely when the great event was expected. The guards told him grumblingly that they would have to stay up all night prior to the arrival of the cortège, to prevent any mishap. For days he watched very carefully and one evening his vigilance was rewarded. Not only were the guards busy with the boats; but expert watermen had arrived who were engaged in testing everything and who continually disputed regarding the division of money which was later to be distributed. Unless a change of plans was made at the last moment in two days' time the Court would come out of the city. That was what he now heard.

During these two days the boy was in a fever of excitement. He had his plan all complete but he was not sure that he would be able to execute it. On the fateful morn he rose long before dawn and softly unlatching the door stole out as silently as a cat.

There was no moon, and the intense darkness disconcerted him. In the distance, along the highway, he could hear the men of the militia patrol softly singing to themselves to keep away spirits. It seemed to him that there were many more than usual: certainly they were moving about in a way which was not customary with them. Big lanterns showed the headquarters of each post.

Hugging the line of houses he rapidly got beyond the suburb. Then, using shortcuts which he knew as well as any of the wine-smugglers, he finally reached the banks of the Imperial Canal. He was about a half-a-mile from where the barges lay moored against the stone-faced embarkment.

Lights were moving about on them and he hugged himself for joy. There was no doubt that the start would soon be made. Still the most difficult part of the business remained to be done: he had to conceal himself in the most complete manner conceivable.

He waited patiently, gnawing at a piece of stale flour-cake he had carried with him, and glancing repeatedly towards the East for the first glimmer of dawn. Like every Chinese peasant he could locate the points of the compass even in the dark, and he never lost his sense of direction.

Presenty there was a little light—not much, but enough to mark clearly the dim outlines of the trees. He found the one he wanted. Ten feet from the water was a half-rotted tree trunk with a hole big enough for his head. He gathered some of the reeds and rank grass and put them in a handy pile near by. Then he dug up a clot of earth with a plant growing in it, and rounded it off so that he could clap it right on his head. Having completed these preparations he rehearsed his part, thrusting his head through the hole in the tree-trunk and putting the plant and the clot of earth on his head and the reeds on his body so that there should be no mistake. He was absolutely satisfied that if he lay stone-still and peeped through with half-shut eyes not a soul could possibly discover him, even a few yards away.

Dawn had now come and round the barges he could see a growing bustle. Square marquees of blue cloth had risen like mushrooms, and horsemen were continually arriving. A cavalry patrol unexpectedly galloped down the roadway behind him and forced him to conceal himself like a frightened frog in his rotted tree. With his eyes greedily drinking in every detail, he lay and watched. Twice he was disappointed in his hopes; for twice there had been a mighty bustle but nothing had come of it. But at last when the sun was already high, a great slow procession reached the marquees; and after a long pause one barge commenced moving, then a second, then many smaller boats.

Along the road came cavalry. Now the barges, steadily rowed, began floating towards him rhythmically, cleaving their way through the lotuses and the weeds which hung like shagreen on the glassy surface.

He drank it all in with awe-struck eyes, his vast curiosity crushing down his fears.

On each barge were numbers of men in red tasselled hats and long official robes, standing motionless. These were the court eunuchs, he was sure. Nearer and nearer floated the barges slowly, rhythmically. Now he saw in through the pale blue silk curtains of the first glasshouse. There was a lonely figure inside. It must be the emperor. It was impossible to see clearly. But behind, in the second barge, he saw quite distinctly an imperious elderly lady and many young ladies in beautiful silks. That was the old Buddha—the Empress Mother. He had seen her—he had seen her.

Slowly, very slowly, like a mirage, the scene faded. He lay entranced, not daring to move. The blue marquees had been struck and the common people were beginning to pass freely and still he did not move. That was the Lao Fo—the old Buddha, the mighty Empress mother!

When he at last went home, with the mud of the river-bank clinging to him, he told his father in a matter of fact way that he had fallen into a pond, while looking for something he had lost.