The three spearmen desperately tried to pull their weapons free as Struan darted at the nearest one, shoved his knife into the man’s side and spun as another charged him with a double-edged war ax. The ax blade scored his shoulder and he grimaced with pain but sidestepped and grappled with the man for possession of the ax. He tore it from the man’s hand and the man screamed as a spear aimed for Struan impaled him. Struan backed against the wall. The remaining spearman circled him, panting and cursing. Struan feinted and hacked at him with the ax but missed and the man lunged. His spear pierced Struan’s coat but Struan ripped free and buried his knife to the hilt in the man’s stomach and twisted it, gutting him.
Struan jumped clear of the bodies, his back against the safety of the wall, and waited. The man that he had knifed was howling. Another was inert. The one he had gutted was holding his stomach and crawling away.
Struan waited an instant, gathering strength, and an arrow thudded into the wall above his head. He picked up one of the spears and raced down the alley toward the Settlement. He heard footsteps behind him and ran faster. As he rounded the corner, he saw that Thirteen Factory Street was just ahead. He dropped the spear and zigzagged across the street and into Hog Street, down Hog Street and across the square, which was filled with more bannermen than before.
Before the bannermen could intercept him, he was through the garden door. A musket slammed him in the stomach.
“Oh, it’s thee, Dirk,” Brock said. “Where the hell’s thee beed?”
“Out.” Struan gulped for air. “God’s blood, I was jumped by stinking highwaymen.”
“Be that yor blood or theirs?”
Under the light of the lantern, Struan ripped the coat and shirt away from his wounded shoulder. The slice was clean and shallow across his shoulder muscle.
“A gnat’s bite,” Brock scoffed. He found a bottle of rum and poured some into the wound and smiled when Struan winced. “How many were they?”
“Three.”
“An’ thee get cutted? Thee be getting old!” Brock poured two glasses of rum.
Struan drank, and felt better.
“I thort you was asleeping. Yor door were locked. Where thee beed?”
“What’s going on here?”
“The servants vanished ’bout an hour ago. That’s wot. I thort it best not to bringed everyone here till daybreak. Must be ’arf a hundred guns covered thee while thee ran.”
“Then why the devil shove a musket in my belly?”
“Just wanted to welcome thee rightly.” Brock gulped some rum. “Just wanted thee to knowed we was awake.”
“Anyone know why the servants left?”
“No.” Brock walked over to the gate. The bannermen were settling back into sleep. A nervous dawn hesitated on the horizon. “Looks godrotting bad,” he said, his face hard. “Doan like this here a little bit. Them bastards doan do nothing but sit an’ sometimes beat their drums. I think we better retreat while the retreating’s good.”
“We’re safe for a few days.”
Brock shook his head. “I got a bad feeling. Something’s right bad. We’d better goed.”
“It’s a ploy, Brock.” Struan tore off a piece of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face.
“Mayhaps. But I got this feeling, and when I gets this feeling it be time to move.” Brock jerked a thumb at the bannermen. “We counted ’em. Hundred an’ fifty. How-qua sayed there be more’n a thousand spread all round the Settlement.”
“I saw perhaps two or three hundred. To the east.”
“Where thee beed?”
“Out.” Struan was tempted to tell him. But that will na help, he thought. Brock’ll do everything in his power to prevent the bullion from arriving safely. And without the bullion you’re as dead as you ever were. “There’s a girl just around the corner,” he said flippantly.
“Pox on a girl! Thee baint so stupid to leave for any doxy.” Brock tugged his beard peevishly. “Thee be taking over from me in a hour?”
“Aye.”
“At noon we pull out.”
“Nay.”
“I say at noon.”
“Nay.”
Brock frowned. “Wot’s to keep thee here?”
“If we leave before there’s real trouble, we lose face badly.”
“Yus. I knowed. Doan please me to run. But somethin’ tells me it be better.”
“We’ll wait a couple of days.”
Brock was very suspicious. “Thee knowed I never beed wrong about aknowing when to run. Why thee want to stay?”
“It’s just Ti-sen up to his old tricks. This time you’re wrong. I’ll relieve you in an hour,” Struan said, and went inside.
Now wot be Dirk up to? Brock brooded. He hawked loudly, hating the danger stench that seemed to come from the dying night.
Struan climbed the marble staircase to his quarters. The walls were lined with Quance paintings and Chinese silk hangings. On the landings were giant Ming teak dragons and teak chests. The corridors leading off the first landing were lined with paintings of ships and sea battles, and on a pedestal was a scale model of H.M.S.
Victory.
Struan found his door locked.
“Open the door,” he said, and waited. Ah Gip let him inside.
“Where the hell’ve you been, May-may?” he said, trying not to show his relief.
She was standing in the shadows near the window. She spoke to Ah Gip, then motioned her out.
Struan bolted the door. “Where the hell’ve you been?”
She moved into the lantern light, and he was shocked by her pallor.
“What’s amiss?”
“There’s plenty rumors, Tai-Pan. Word says all barbarians are going to be put to the sword.”
“Nothing new in that. Where’ve you been?”
“Bannermen are new. There’s rumor that Ti-sen’s in disgrace. That he’s sentenced to death.”
“That’s nonsense. He’s cousin to the emperor, and the second-richest man in China.”
“Rumor says the emperor’s so godrot angry Ti-sen make a treaty, Ti-sen is to suffer public torture.”
“That’s madness.” Struan stood by the fire and stripped off his coat and shirt. “Where’ve you been?”
“What happened to you?” she exclaimed, seeing the cut.
“Highwaymen jumped me.”
“Did you see Jin-qua?”
Struan was wonder-struck. “How do you know about Jin-qua?”
“I went to kowtow and pay my respects to his Supreme Lady. She told me he just returned and sent for you.”
Struan had been unaware that May-may knew Jin-qua’s first wife, but he was so furious that he dismissed this from his mind. “Why the devil did you na tell me where you were going?”
“Because then you would have forbid me,” May-may snapped. “I want to see her. Also to have my hair done and to consult the astrologer.”
“What?”
“There’s a terrifical good hairdresser that Jin-qua’s ladies use. Terrifical good for hair. This woman is famous in all Kwangtung. Very expensive. The astrologer said joss was good. Very good. But to watch building of houses.”
“You’d risk your life to talk to soothsayers and get your hair treated?” he erupted. “What the hell’s the matter with your hair? It’s fine as it is!”