The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (99 page)

Then Nellie kissed him. ‘You did well there, Edward. I'm proud of you,' she said.

Airton did not reply. Nellie felt the motion of his shoulders.

‘Is it weeping you are, you silly man?' she said, squeezing him. ‘There's no reason for weeping now.'

‘I'm—so—ashamed,' he said, through his tears.

Nellie nodded, and smiled. ‘Well, you have been behaving a little oddly for a while, my dear,' she said. ‘There's no denying that, but we've all been through terrible times, and you made up for it tonight.'

‘I—can't forgive myself,' he said.

‘Oh, we've all behaved badly at times,' she said. ‘I know I've made mistakes. I'm not always as strong as I appear, you know.'

He did not reply. She shook his knee. ‘We're together, Edward. We survived. All of us. We survived. And we're safe here, with these kind people. Don't you just know that there's a Providence out there among those beautiful stars that is continuing to take care of us? Be thankful. Don't be so glum.'

‘It's Manners,' he said quietly.

‘Manners?' she repeated, startled. ‘What's he got to do with anything all of a sudden?'

‘I believe that I misjudged him,' said the doctor hoarsely. ‘I convinced myself that he was a murderer—that he'd killed the Mandarin because he wanted his gold.'

‘So? That's what he did, didn't he, the beast?'

‘I'm not sure now,' said the doctor, an agonised expression on his face. ‘He told me when he left the engine cab that he was going to the Mandarin's compartment to save the Mandarin, to save us—and in my hatred of him I did not believe him.'

‘Well, he was a liar. We know that.' She paused, looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face. ‘Edward, why are you going on about Mr Manners?'

‘But don't you see? You yourself told me. The shots you heard in the compartment were separated by a long interval. You said there was a single shot, followed much, much later by others. I don't believe it could have been Manners who fired that first shot. He was with me in the cab. He told me that Chamberlain Jin was an enemy. You see, I believe it was probably Chamberlain Jin who murdered the Mandarin, and therefore what Manners told me was the truth.'

Nellie was silent for a while. ‘I see,' she said. ‘You think that we've maligned a brave man?'

‘I do,' whispered the doctor, staring into the valley. ‘God help me for what I've done.'

‘It's—unfortunate that we thought ill of him, Edward.' Nellie picked her words carefully. ‘We'll—we'll tell Helen Frances in due course, naturally. Yes, that would be right and proper. In fact, it would be better if she could think well of her little girl's father. But I don't see for the life of me why you are torturing yourself about this. There's nothing you could have done to change what happened. Mr Manners is dead. He was killed.'

‘He wasn't,' whispered the doctor, his eyes still staring. ‘He was alive when I found him. Severely wounded, but alive.'

‘He was what?' Now it was Nellie's turn to stare. ‘You told me—you told all of us—that he was dead.'

‘I lied to you,' said Airton flatly. ‘Oh, God,' he choked, ‘what have I done?' He banged his head with his hand. ‘It was my hatred of him,' he said, as Nellie stared at him in horror. ‘My anger. I wanted him dead. I wanted him to suffer for all the crimes I thought he had committed.'

‘Edward,' Nellie whispered, ‘are you telling me that you deliberately abandoned a wounded man on the train? You left him to be found alive by his enemies?'

‘Yes,' he said weakly. ‘I betrayed the Hippocratic oath. I left a man to die.'

‘Oh, Edward,' she whispered. ‘So that's what made you so withdrawn these months…' She sat with her back against the wall, gazing at the stars, but she no longer saw them.

‘You see?' said her husband. ‘I can never be forgiven for this, can I?'

‘I don't know,' she whispered, her eyes staring. ‘I don't know.'

His body began to shake with sobs. He made inarticulate cries as he wept. After a while she put her arm around him, and stroked his brow. He wept in her arms, while she stared rigidly into the darkness.

A shooting star flashed like a knife across the sky.

‘Edward,' she said, turning to look at him. Her voice was as icy as the night. ‘We must never—ever—breathe a word of this to Helen Frances.'

*   *   *

Over the next few days there was much fussing over Helen Frances and the infant. It was Nellie who had to take over the household chores because Sarantuya was besotted by the baby, rocking and cooing to her for hours. Helen Frances smiled contentedly from her mattress. She was still very weak. Nellie collected the water, prepared the food and cooked—but she had a helper in her husband. In fact, during those first few days Airton hardly left her side, except occasionally to examine Helen Frances and little Catherine, which was the name Helen Frances had chosen for her. When they were not busy, he and Nellie would go for long walks together in the snow. Sometimes George and Jenny accompanied them.

Orkhon Baatar and Sarantuya welcomed his new participation in the household with their usual warmth. It was as if his months of silence had never been. At first Airton reacted to the respect, if not reverence, they showed him with some confusion. Nobody would have recognised in this shy, humble man the smug, comfortable patriarch who had once presided over the mission at Shishan.

Of course, it had taken him time to adjust to the new circumstances, and to regain a degree of self-confidence. Orkhon Baatar had decided early on to take him in hand. While as a healer he might have shied away from such matters as midwifery, he had an unerring ability to detect a spiritual wound. For him it was as practical a matter as a case of ringworm in his sheep, requiring the same levels of patience and psychology as he would use in training a young colt.

The night after the birth, Orkhon Baatar had poured out the
nermel
as usual for the doctor, but Airton had tried to push away the bowl. Orkhon Baatar would not have it. He insisted that the doctor drink with him, and again he matched him bowl for bowl. Only this time it was Orkhon Baatar who became happily, deliriously drunk. He rocked to his feet, pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his coat, and sang one of his deep-throated songs. He forgot the words halfway through, and began to giggle. He pulled the doctor to his feet, embraced him and, still holding him, began to dance. Airton was embarrassed, but everyone laughed and clapped, and after a short time he got into the stamping rhythm. Orkhon Baatar picked up the pitcher and replenished the bowls. It did not take long for the doctor to become as drunk and merry as he. Before the evening finished, he had demonstrated a Highland reel and, tears flowing down his face, had serenaded Nellie with ‘My Love Is Like a Red, Red Rose.' She had cuffed him gently, and called him a ‘foolish, foolish man' before she kissed him. Orkhon Baatar, red-faced, swayed with his arms round Sarantuya's shoulders, sighing with pleasure.

One morning he insisted that the doctor accompany him and the children on their morning ride. He would not take no for an answer. He pushed the doctor's arms into the heavy sheepskin, and slapped the fur hat on top of his head, then dragged him, protesting, out of the
ger
. He heaved Airton into the saddle of the waiting pony and, when he was astride, cracked its rump with his own reins. Side by side, they galloped up the valley. Orkhon Baatar kept a watchful eye as Airton bounced on the bolting beast, sometimes reaching out a steadying hand, but he did not slow the pace. The children followed behind, as comfortable on these Mongolian ponies now as if they themselves had been bred in the grasslands.

There was heavy snow on the pastures. Orkhon Baatar slowed to a trot as they reached the top of the hill. He appeared to be looking for something, shading his eyes with his hand to ward off the sun's glare. The others peered in the same direction but all they could see was a uniform whiteness that stretched to the horizon, broken only by a rocky outcrop or two, and some clumps of trees on the leeside of a hill. Orkhon Baatar whooped and leaned forward in his saddle. His horse shot forward and, with no idea where he was going, the others followed.

At the bottom of a small hill, Orkhon Baatar jumped off his pony and, leaving it to graze on the tufts of grass that protruded from the snow, he gestured for the others also to dismount. He put his fingers to his lips to indicate silence, and proceeded cautiously to climb the hill. Airton followed nervously, panting with exertion. At the ridge, Orkhon Baatar flapped his hand signalling to them to keep their heads down. Very slowly he peered over the edge. He turned, his eyes shining, his jagged teeth revealed in a delighted smile. He put his finger again to his lips, then crooked it, indicating that the doctor should move up beside him. Not knowing what to expect, Airton lifted his head over the brow.

Below him, hardly twenty feet away, a large herd of reindeer was grazing against the background of the snow. It was the most beautiful sight he had seen in his life.

*   *   *

A fortnight after that the Russians came.

It was a darkening November evening, and Orkhon Baatar and the children had just finished feeding the sheep in the byre. It had been a dull, overcast day. There had been a heavy fall of snow the night before. They had not gone riding. The children had watched as Orkhon Baatar stretched the hide of the wolf, which George had shot two days before. It had been a glorious hunt and for two nights they had regaled the women with stories of their prowess.

Jenny saw them first, a straggling column of about twenty mounted soldiers who were making their way slowly down the riverbank. When they arrived at the
ger,
all of them, except Helen Frances and her baby, were waiting outside.

The young lieutenant in command revealed none of the surprise he undoubtedly felt to find a family of foreigners in a Mongol
ger
. He dismounted elegantly and saluted, then introduced himself as Lieutenant Panin, commanding a company of Don Cossacks. He spoke good English. There was only a trace of an accent.

Even Nellie, however, stepped backwards as he approached. The healthy, well-fed soldiers might have been aliens from another world.

Lieutenant Panin waited patiently, his eyebrows cocked, a kind smile on his round face. ‘You are?' he asked politely.

‘I'm sorry, I'm forgetting my manners,' she said, after a while. ‘Your arrival is a bit of a surprise.'

The lieutenant nodded his head, a gleam of humour in his eyes. ‘May I say likewise, madame?' he murmured engagingly. ‘Your presence here, I mean.'

‘We are the Airton family, from Shishan,' she said slowly. ‘We are accompanied by another, Miss Helen Frances Delamere—Mrs Cabot, I mean. She's in the
ger
. She's just been delivered of a child. This is—this is Orkhon Baatar's
ger
.'

Lieutenant Panin bowed. ‘Mrs Airton,' he acknowledged. ‘If I may say so, you are a long way from Shishan.'

‘We—we came here when the Boxers…' She could not finish.

‘I understand,' said the lieutenant. ‘Of course, it is well known what happened in Shishan. I had not realised that there had been any survivors of that atrocity.' He appeared to consider. ‘Mrs Airton,' he said, ‘if Mr Orkhon Baatar will allow us, I would like my men to camp here. We will not trespass on his hospitality. We are well provisioned. I would be honoured if you and your family will dine with me tonight. Perhaps I can acquaint you with what has been happening in the world, since your … since your…' He smiled. ‘I congratulate you all on your miraculous escape. You must have a remarkable story to tell.'

‘Lieutenant Panin,' Nellie called after him hesitantly, as he turned to give an order to his men, ‘the Boxers? Are they…?'

‘Yes, madame,' said the lieutenant. ‘They are defeated. An Allied army now occupies Peking.'

*   *   *

Sarantuya wept and hugged the baby, reluctant to hand her to her waiting mother. Helen Frances's eyes brimmed with tears and, indeed, there were tears on all their faces.

‘I don't want to go,' cried George. ‘I want to stay with Orkhon Baatar.'

He twisted his hand out of his father's grip and ran to where the Mongolian was standing. Orkhon Baatar picked him up and hugged him. ‘Zhoorj. Zhoorj,' he said. ‘You are a hunter and must be brave. If you do not go with your father and mother I will be worried for them. They need you to look after them. You will return when you are older, and we will hunt wolves again.'

He lifted the boy on to his pony. ‘This is yours now,' he said. ‘It is my gift to you. When you ride him you will remember me, perhaps?'

It was true. Orkhon Baatar had refused to take the money, which Lieutenant Panin had offered him for the children's ponies, though he had reluctantly accepted a generous sum for the other horses, and for the old pony-cart in which Helen Frances would travel with her child.

The Airtons embraced their hosts for the last time. Helen Frances sobbed when she came to hug Orkhon Baatar goodbye. Her body shook in his arms. Airton had to lead her gently away. Nellie was the last to take farewell of Orkhon Baatar. She took his leathery hands in hers. ‘The thanks we owe you are … I don't know how to begin…'

Orkhon Baatar hugged her gently. ‘It is you who should be named Baatar, Nay-li. The Brave One,' he said. ‘I will always remember you. And your husband is a good man,' he continued, ‘worthy of respect. I regret that I was not able completely to heal the wound in his heart. With time…'

‘Yes,' said Nellie, sniffing away a tear. ‘Goodbye, dear Orkhon Baatar.'

‘Goodbye, Nay-li Baatar.' He smiled.

Lieutenant Panin, who had been waiting patiently, judged that it was time. He gave the order to move, and the column began its slow progress south.