Part 15 (1/2)
The bracelet was still wrapped in its envelope of silk and she glanced at him with a mystified expression, holding it out of sight at her side; then perhaps she guessed what it might be and turned anxiously to make sure that Tam hadn't noticed anything.
”Prepare to enter! Strike gongs and drums!”
The emperor was borne slowly aloft to the terraces above, where subsidiary shrines were set up, and Lan, her face suddenly animated, touched Joseph's arm to draw his attention to the booted and gowned figure of her father pacing up the temple steps with other senior courtiers who were to act as co-celebrants; they were dressed with equal ceremonial extravagance in state coats of blue, green and gray and wore about their waists clanking belts of metal pendants. The ritualistic chanting and musical responses continued until the emperor and his entourage entered the tabernacle of the Azure Temple, then silence descended abruptly on the sacred enclosure. The French officials around Joseph and Lan immediately began to shuffle and converse in low tones, and the Annamese girl turned to her brother.
”Before the final rites begin, Tam,” she whispered, ”I'd like to show Monsieur Sherman our family's tree in the Sacred Grove. May 1?” Tam nodded, and Lan turned back to smile at Joseph. ”It's the highest honor for a family to be given a tree in the Sacred Grove of the Nam Giao like receiving a coat of arms from the king of France.” She pointed in the direction of one of the burning pyres that had been used to prepare sacrificial buffalo meat: the flames were guttering now, but their glow still lit the dark screen of tall larches nearby. ”It's over there - would you like me to show you?”
Joseph nodded eagerly and fell into step beside her as she led the way through the crowd of dancers and musicians towards the Sacred Grove. By the dark hole of one of the larches, Lan stopped and pointed. ”This is the tree of the Tran family. My great-great-grandfather planted it at the invitation of the Emperor Dong Khanh.... But please wait a moment.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if Tam was watching them, then hastily opened the silk envelope and looked at the bracelet. When she raised her eyes to his they were s.h.i.+ning in the firelight. ”It's exactly like mine, Joseph. Wherever did you buy it?”
”I didn't buy it, Lan - it is your own bracelet.”
She held it towards the light of the sacrificial pyre, inspecting the fine golden flecks in the blue stone, then stared at him in disbelief. ”But how did you get it back?”
”I took a sampan up the river before dawn this morning and slipped into the tomb before it was light. As soon as the sun came up I swam across the lake to the spot beneath the bridge where you dropped it.” His smile broadened. ”I was lucky - the bottom of the lake was not too muddy and I only had to dive four or five times before I put my hand on it.”
She shook her head in wonder. ”I can hardly believe, Joseph, that you've done such a kind thing.”
Joseph took the bracelet from her and slipped it on her left wrist. ”I'm glad I've been able to make you smile again.”
She held it away from her, admiring it, her mouth curved in an unconscious smile of pleasure. ”I'll never be able to thank you enough, Joseph. You always seem to come to my rescue. First at the governor's palace, then at the tennis match - now here in Hue.”
Joseph felt the familiar breathless sensation constrict his throat, and he took hold of her hand suddenly and pressed it to his lips. ”I did it because I love you, Lan! I love you very much. I knew the moment I saw you praying at the tomb you're so pure and good, so beautiful. I want to be with you always - to protect you and take care of you. I never want to leave your side.” The words tumbled from him in an impulsive torrent, and he was suddenly afraid that she might find his pa.s.sion offensive. But to his surprise she said nothing; he thought he felt her body tremble once, then she detached, her hand gently from his grasp and half turned away to steady herself with one hand against the larch tree.
”I feel a little dizzy, J0se1)h,” she said softly, pressing her other wrist against her brow in a little gesture of distress. ”Perhaps it's all that incense He took her by the arm, his brow crinkling with concern. ”Why don't we get a breath of fresh air in the street outside?”
She nodded mutely and together they walked towards the south gate, which still stood open to allow the blessings of Heaven to flow in.
At the moment that Joseph and Lan stepped into the narrow, tree-lined avenue leading to the River of Perfumes, Jacques Devraux was descending for the second time that night into the dank cellar beneath the city's Surete headquarters half a mile away. Fingers of green mold reached up walls from which all whitewash had flaked long ago, and as Devraux entered, his nose wrinkled involuntarily with distaste at the strong smell of sweat and stale urine that hung in the air.
Because the cellar was close to the river, the cracked concrete floor never dried out entirely and puddles of condensation glimmered in the light of a single unshaded bulb. Close to the ceiling a thick wooden beam pa.s.sed through the cellar, and Ngo Van Dong's ankles were lashed to it by coa.r.s.e hempen ropes that had already chafed raw weals around the lower parts of his legs. His hands were manacled behind his back and the weight of his long, thin body was half supported on the damp floor by his shoulders, but every time the half-caste Indian guard slammed his heavy wooden baton against the swollen, bloodied soles of Dong's feet, the convulsion that racked his body lifted his head clear of the floor.
Devraux had left his jacket in his office upstairs but he still wore the pale trousers of the suit in which he had watched the emperor's procession leave the Citadel and he stopped two or three yards away from the prisoner because experience had taught him that at that distance blood would not splash on them. His ravaged features betrayed no sign of emotion as he watched the half-caste's baton rise and fall, but on the twelfth blow he stepped forward and tapped the Indian on the arm, motioning him to stop. Dong's loud cries of pain subsided immediately to a low, continuous moaning noise, and when Devraux walked round to stand beside him, the Annamese opened his eyes and twisted his head to look up into his face.
”Who are you?” The tip of one of Devraux's pointed shoes struck Dong a gratuitous blow in the ribs. ”Who sent you? The Communists?”
The injury to Dong's shoulder sustained in the collision with the Citroen had been treated, but the wound had opened again since, and blood was soaking through the dressings. Devraux looked at him hanging upside down, without compa.s.sion, then kicked him sharply in the ribs again. ”Who were your accomplices?”
Dong gritted his teeth and remained silent as he had done for the past fourteen hours, and the Frenchman, losing patience suddenly, stepped up close to him and repeated the questions in a more threatening tone. But instead of answering, the Annamese jerked his head sideways and spat a large gobbet of blood-flecked spittle onto the pale material of Devraux's trousers.
The Surete chief didn't speak or move. For a long time he just stood and looked at the Annamese as he twisted slowly at the end of the rope. Then he turned and spoke to the half-caste in a matter-of-fact voice. ”Give him some water now.”
The half-caste untied the end of the rope and tautened it, drawing Dong's ankles closer to the beam. When he had refastened it, he fetched a bowl of water and a soggy cloth from a table at the far end of the cellar. Dropping to his knees he soaked the cloth in the bowl, then pressed it hard against Dong's face so that it blocked his mouth and water streamed Out of it into his upturned nostrils. He worked with quick, practiced movements, holding the back of Dong's head with his free hand as the Annamese choked and struggled on the rope. After two applications the half-caste repeated the questions, but still Doug remained silent.
”Give him some more water,” said Devraux dispa.s.sionately.
”I don't think he's going to talk,” said the torturer, glancing anxiously up at his superior. ”I think he'd rather drown.”
”They all talk,” replied Devraux in a dull voice. ”I've seen a hundred of them hold out until they get the water. Give him some more.”
The Frenchman stood and watched for a moment longer, then glanced impatiently at his watch. ”I've got to attend the governor general's champagne reception at the Nam Giao,” he said in an irritable voice. ”I'll interrogate him again afterwards. Just keep watering him.”
As Devraux hurried away up the cellar steps he heard the half-caste dip the cloth into the bowl, and a moment later Doug began choking again.
Flickering lanterns suspended in the trees above little wayside shrines cast dancing shadows on the faces of Joseph and Lan as they strolled towards the river through the balmy night. Just short of the waterfront Lan stopped beside one of the shrines and traced the golden Chinese characters on a silk-fringed banner. ”Wan Sui,” she murmured. ”If only the emperor could really live ten thousand years in peace, Joseph. It's a beautiful thought, isn't it?”
”I feel tonight as if we're going to live ten thousand years, Lan,” said Joseph, moving close to her in the scented darkness.
”Perhaps we are.” Her eyes sparkled as she reached out and touched one of the pine trees surrounding the little shrine. ”These pines are symbols of longevity.”
Joseph touched the tree too. ”Then I'll wish for a long, happy life for both of us--together.”
Their eyes met and they smiled at one another; Joseph, to his delight, detected a new spark of excitement in her gaze, an intimacy of expression that told him beyond any doubt that she too was intensely aware of the enchantment of the night. As they stood there, the liquid chimes of tiny silver bells carried on the still air from the top terrace of the Azure Temple, and Joseph lifted his head to listen. ”The ceremonies have begun again, Lan,” he said gently. ”Shall we return now?”
Lan listened for a moment, her head on one side; then she shuddered and pulled a face. ”They're burying the blood and hair of the buffaloes. I'm happy to miss that. There are still quite a few duties of that kind to be performed before the Imperial Communion begins.”
They crossed the wide road to the bank of the River of Perfumes and strolled on under the trees. Lan closed her eyes arid lifted her face to let the faint breeze blowing off the water play on her cheeks. ”It's cooler now, Joseph. And the river is so beautiful. There seems to be a magic in the air here, doesn't there?”
Joseph nodded happily. ”The white tiger and the blue dragon are obviously at peace with one another tonight.” He glanced down to find her smiling at him with unexpected warmth; unbidden, she drew closer to him, and he put his arm around her slender shoulders.
Cl.u.s.ters of empty sampans were drawn up by the bank, some with dim lanterns illuminating the cus.h.i.+oned, mahogany interiors of their little cabins; others were in darkness, and Joseph wrinkled his nose at the sweet, acrid fragrance floating under the trees. A coolie called something unintelligible in Annamese as they pa.s.sed, and Lan laughed in embarra.s.sment.
”What did he say?”
”He asks if monsieur would like to smoke a pipe or two of opium while he listens to the rites. You can hire his sampan, he says, for half a piastre. Very clean.”
Joseph laughed too; then he stopped and ran back to talk to the coolie, and a note changed hands. When he returned to her, he was grinning broadly. ”Would you like a cool ride on the river?” He spread his hands. ”Strictly no opium, I promise.”
Her face clouded with doubt. ”It's not proper, Joseph, for me to go on the river alone with you. If Tam were with us, it would be different.”
”Just for a few minutes.” He took her hands in his and smiled into her eyes. ”Perhaps the river breezes will blow the cobwebs of incense from your head before we return to the Nam Giao.”
She laughed uncertainly. ”All right, as you are a visitor to Hue I must be a good hostess. We'll go just for a short while.”
She allowed him to help her aboard, and he settled her in the cabin before returning to the stern. The boatman's grin broadened with delight when Joseph thrust another ten-piastre note into his hands, and he helped push the sampan out into the stream. When Joseph didn't return to sit beside her in the cabin, Lan looked over her shoulder and, seeing him standing on the stern, her expression changed to one of alarm.
”What are you doing, Joseph? Have you ever rowed a sampan alone before?”
His happy laughter echoed across the water as he removed his jacket. ”No - but don't look so frightened, I've been watching the coolies and I'm dying to try it for myself. It can't be that difficult.” He turned the bows of the long boat southwards and got it moving. ”You see!”
His confident smile rea.s.sured her, and she moved to the mouth of the cabin and sat down on cus.h.i.+ons, facing him. Silhouetted above her against the starry sky, he worked the oar with an easy rhythm, and she watched him in silence, wondering at his grace and strength. For several minutes he rowed the sampan upstream, brus.h.i.+ng beneath the willows that leaned out from the bank; as the river turned in a gentle curve to the southeast he pointed inland. ”Look, Lan, you can see the southern light s.h.i.+ning from the Azure Temple.” He clutched excitedly at the tresses of a willow tree, halting the sampan.
Lao stood up beside him to look in the direction of the slender finger of light pointing down the southern sky. The faint beat of gongs reached their ears, mingled with the sound of trumpets and bells; then a joyful chorus of female voices rose thrillingly above the music.
”They're singing the Hymn of Happy Augury.”
All around them the willow fronds rustled and whispered in the breeze. ”I suppose it's time we turned back,” he said hesitantly.