“Mother Russia stretches from sea to sea. Under God, Tai-Pan,” Zergeyev said simply. “You should see the earth of Mother Russia to understand what I mean. It is black and rich and filled with life. Yet we laid waste fifteen hundred miles of it to contain Bonaparte and his
Grande Armee. You belong to the sea. But I belong to the land. I bequeath you the sea, Tai-Pan.” Zergeyev’s eyes seemed to cloud over. “That was a great battle this afternoon. And an interesting wager. Most interesting.”
The lines on Struan’s cheeks deepened with his smile. “A pity it was a draw. Now we’ll never know—will we, Your Highness?—who was the better man.”
“I like you, Mr. Struan. I would like to be your friend. We could be of great service to each other.”
“I’d be honored to assist in any way.”
Zergeyev laughed, his teeth brilliant white. “There’s time enough. One advantage Asia has over Europe is its appreciation of time. My family comes from Karaganda. That’s this side of the Urals, so perhaps, in part, I am Asian. We are Kazaki. Some people call us ‘Cossacks.’ ”
“I dinna understand. The Urals?”
“A mountain chain that runs from the Arctic to the Caspian Sea. It splits Russia into east and west.”
“I know so little about Russia—or Europe, for that matter,” Struan said.
“You should come to Russia. Give me six months of your time and let me be your host. There is much to see, cities—and seas of grass. It could be a very profitable experience. Huge markets for tea and for silks and all manner of trade goods.” His eyes twinkled. “And the women are most beautiful.”
“I’m a little busy this week, but perhaps next?”
“Now, let us not joke but be a little serious. Please consider it. Next year, the year after. I think it’s very important. For you and your country and the future. Russia and Britain have never warred on each other. For centuries we’ve been allies, and we’re both at odds with France, our hereditary enemy. Russia has huge land resources and millions of people, strong people. You’re land-poor, so you need your Empire and we favor that. You rule the seas and we favor that. You have your astounding industrial power and the wealth it brings. We are greatly pleased. You have trade goods and the means to deliver them and we have markets. But we also have trade goods
you can use; the raw materials that you need to feed your incredible machines, and food for your astonishing people. Together we’re unbeatable. Together we can dominate France. And the Holy Roman Empire, Prussia and the infidel Turk. Together we can keep the peace. And grow and prosper to the benefit of all.”
“Aye,” Struan said, as seriously. “I’m for that. But you’re talking on a national level. From a historical point of view. That’s na practical. And I dinna think you can blame Frenchmen for the ambition of her kings. Or justify changing Turks into Christians by the use of the sword. I had my say at lunch. On an international level, without some form of control over kings—and queens—we’ll always have wars. His Excellency said it very well. Kings—and any form of leader—spill other people’s blood. To be practical, there’s little I can do. I dinna operate on a national level—and I’ve no real power in Parliament, as you well know.”
“But about Asia your opinion is carefully listened to. And I have great power in St. Petersburg.”
Struan took a long pull on his cigar and then he exhaled. “What do you want in Asia?”
“What do you want in China?”
“Trade,” Struan said immediately, but very much on guard and careful not to reveal his true aim. There’s a devil of a difference, he said to himself, between Asia and China.
“I could, perhaps, see that The Noble House was granted an exclusive tea-import license for the market for all the Russias. And outward bound, all the fur exports and grain of all the Russias.”
“In return for what?” Struan said, overwhelmed by the enormousness of the offer. Such a monopoly would mean millions. And such a position of power would stand him in good stead in English political circles and give him enormous face.
“Friendship,” Zergeyev said.
“That word covers a multitude of meanings, Your Highness.”
“It has only one meaning, Mr. Struan. Of course there are many ways a friend may help a friend.”
“What specific help would you specifically want in return for a specific trade agreement with my company?”
Zergeyev laughed. “Those are too many specifics for one evening, Mr. Struan. But it is worth thinking about and worth considering. And discussing at a specific time, eh?” He gazed over the harbor and past the ships to the mainland. “You should come to Russia,” he repeated.
“When did you want it translated, Your Excellency?” Horatio looked up from the paper which Loagstaff had handed him.
“Anytime, my dear fellow. In the next few days, what? But put the Chinese characters over the English words, eh?”
“Yes, sir. Should it be sent to someone?”
“No. Just give it back to me. Of course, it’s a private matter.” Longstaff walked off, pleased with the way his scheme was progressing. The letter had said: “His Excellency the English Captain Superintendent of Trade wishes to buy fifty pounds’ weight of mulberry seeds or a thousand saplings, to be delivered as soon as possible.” All he had to do when Horatio returned it translated was substitute “tea” for “mulberry.” He could manage this himself; the Chinese character for tea was written on every box exported. Then he would wait until he had decided who could be trusted enough to receive it.
Standing alone, Horatio reread the letter. Now, why would Longstaff want mulberries? There were tens of thousands of mulberry trees, and their silkworms, in the south of France, and it would be simple to get seeds from there. But not simple to get them from China. Is Longstaff planning to plant a grove of trees here? But why fifty pounds? That’s a fantastic quantity of seeds and he’s no gardener. And why say pointedly, “Of course it’s a private matter”?
“Horatio?”
“Oh, hello, George. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
Horatio noticed that Glessing was perspiring and ill at ease. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just that, well, there comes a time in every man’s life . . . when he should . . . well, you meet someone who—I’m not putting it right. It’s Mary. I want to marry her and I want your blessing.”
Horatio calmed himself with an effort and said what he had previously decided to say. He had been very conscious of Glessing’s attention to Mary tonight and had remembered the look on his face on that first day. He loathed Glessing for daring to complicate his and Mary’s life, and daring to have the impertinence to think that Mary would consider him for an instant. “I’m most flattered, George. And Mary will be too. But she’s, well, I don’t think she’s ready for marriage yet.”
“But of course she is. And I’ve fine prospects and my grandfather’s going to leave me the manor. I’ll be quite well-off and my service prospects are damned fine and I’ve—”
“Slow down, George. We must consider things very carefully. Have you discussed this with Mary?”
“Good Lord, no. Wanted to have your feeling first. Of course.”
“Well, why don’t you leave it with me? I had no idea your intentions were serious. I’m afraid you must be patient with me—I’ve always thought of Mary as much younger than she is. She is, of course, under the age of consent,” he added carelessly.