Imperial Fire

XXXVII

Each morning officials from the Court of Diplomatic Reception visited the Palace of Peace to question Vallon and Hero about Byzantium. How many people lived in Constantinople? How was Byzantine society ordered? Did it have a dress code? What did people eat? Who were the empire’s allies, who its enemies?

If it wasn’t the Court of Diplomatic Reception, it was the Department of Arms, responsible for making maps and demanding to be told every detail of the topography and conditions the expedition had encountered.

Within days of arriving at Kaifeng, ice had frozen Jifeng to her mooring. Now the ice began to break up, floating away in dirty yellow blocks. Buds appeared on the trees and the frozen streets turned to mud. When the chamberlain next visited, Vallon vented his impatience.

‘We’ve been in Kaifeng two months. When are we going to meet the emperor?’

‘Soon, I trust. The arrangements are proceeding smoothly.’

Vallon would have been driven mad by the procrastination if Qiuylue hadn’t been there to soothe him. No matter how frustrating his day had been, his spirits lifted when he closed the door on the officials and found himself alone in her company.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked one evening.

‘I was thinking how fond I am of you.’

‘I’m glad I make you happy.’

‘More than fond.’

She shivered. ‘Please don’t say such things.’

On the first warm day of the year he was escorting Qiuylue around the garden, admiring the peach blossoms, when he saw coming the other way Lucas accompanied by a pretty Chinese girl who barely came up to his chest. Both parties stopped. By tacit agreement, Vallon and Lucas had contrived to avoid each other since arriving at the capital.

Vallon took the first step. ‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning, sir. Forgive me for trespassing. The gate was open and I — ’

‘That’s all right. I trust you find your lodgings satisfactory.’

Lucas didn’t quite succeed in suppressing a glance at the girl. ‘I couldn’t ask for better accommodation.’

They stood in awkward opposition, the two women covertly eyeing each other.

Vallon coughed. ‘Allow me to introduce Lady Qiuylue. She’s helping me learn the Chinese language and customs. My lady, this is my son, Lucas.’

Qiuylue made a graceful acknowledgement and Lucas gave a gentlemanly bow.

‘May I present Xiao-Xing — “Morning Star”. I, too, am trying to get on better terms with the Chinese.’

Vallon was sure that Xiao-Xing was the girl he’d found in his bed by moonlight. ‘Excellent, yes, well…’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Spring is definitely in the air.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘The chamberlain called yesterday with the news we’ve been waiting for. In three days the emperor Shenzong will receive us at the palace. You will attend me.’

‘Honoured, sir.’

‘As my son.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Hero and Aiken will also be in the party. Since a mere general won’t command the emperor’s respect, I’ve conferred a dukedom on myself and bestowed appropriate titles on the other officers. I’m promoting you to count. Make sure your appearance reflects your rank. Have your servant polish your armour to mirror brightness. I need hardly tell you how important it is to make a dazzling impression.’

‘No, sir.’

‘There’s no need to be so formal in your address. If you can’t bring yourself to call me “father”, I’m quite happy for you to call me by name.’

Lucas’s face betrayed turmoil. ‘I can’t.’ He turned about and led the girl away.

‘We’re going to have to face up to the past sometime,’ Vallon called.

Lucas hurried the girl through the gate.

‘What’s wrong?’ Qiuylue said. ‘Why do you grow pale?’

Vallon emptied his lungs. ‘I murdered his mother in front of him.’

Qiuylue hissed in shock. Vallon groped for her arm and led her to the belvedere. Looking out over the garden, he told her.

When he’d finished, she was quiet for a while. ‘I see no reason why you should torment yourself.’

Vallon shook his head. ‘Until Lucas appeared, I’d more or less buried the past. Seeing him is like watching a grave heave open. What torments me is the foul thought that I’d feel more at peace today if I’d killed Lucas too.’

Qiuylue kissed his cheek. ‘He wouldn’t be here unless he wanted to make peace with you.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yes. He takes after you.’

Vallon shook his head. ‘No, and that’s what rubs the wound raw. He has his mother’s eyes. Every time I meet him, it’s her I see.’

The chamberlain and his officials spent the next two days coaching the envoys on imperial protocol.

‘On the day of presentation I will usher you into the palace and lead you to the west chamber outside the throne room. When the emperor has taken his seat, I will lead you into His Majesty’s presence. You will stand in dignified silence while the vice-director of the Secretariat and his officials approach to receive your letters of credentials and state. They will place them on trays and read them to the throne. If the emperor makes no objection, I will receive your tribute and lay it on a table for the emperor to examine if he so chooses.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Vallon said. ‘Did I hear the word “tribute”?’

‘Tribute, gifts — the distinction is not important.’

‘Yes, it is. Tributes are offered by subject states. Gifts are exchanged between equals. The treasures we brought are gifts from His Imperial Majesty Alexius I Comnenus.’

‘I will give the emperor all the relevant facts.’

‘Make sure you tell him it was a Byzantine expedition that first found its way to China, and not the other way around.’

‘China has no need to go looking for Byzantium.’

Hero tugged Vallon’s sleeve. ‘You have many skills. Diplomacy isn’t one of them.’

‘Now, then,’ the chamberlain continued. ‘After the emperor has received your letters and gifts, you will be invited to approach. When you reach the appointed spot, you will kow tow.’

One of his juniors demonstrated, kneeling three times from a standing position, touching his forehead to the ground three times at each prostration.

‘I’m not going down on hands and knees like a dog,’ Vallon said to Hero. He set his face at the chamberlain. ‘I will honour your emperor as I would my own — by kneeling with head bowed in respect.’

Gasps of dismay. The chamberlain and his entourage withdrew for discussion and returned quite adamant. ‘No ambassador from a foreign country can approach the emperor without kow towing.’

‘If my ruler was here in person, would you expect him to abase himself in that servile way?’

‘You are not the Byzantine emperor.’

‘I represent my sovereign. Your emperor should accord me as much respect as if it were Alexius himself who stood before him.’

‘Does Alexius treat you as an equal?’

Vallon couldn’t avoid the trap. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Then why should our emperor not treat you in a similar manner? You are not the embodiment of your sovereign. You are merely his honoured messenger.’

Vallon had begun to sweat. ‘If I lower my dignity, I lower the Byzantine emperor’s.’

‘You cannot regulate the etiquette of the palace of Kaifeng by that of Constantinople. Our princes of the blood kow tow before their emperor. My children show me the same respect. Therefore you should do likewise. If you don’t, you are raising yourself above us.’

‘Suppose the positions were reversed and you’d sent Chinese envoys to Byzantium.’

‘Not only would they kow tow to your emperor, they would also burn incense before him as they would do before their gods.’

‘Has any foreign envoy refused to kow tow?’

‘Several have resisted. Without exception, right thinking has convinced them of their error.’ The chamberlain held out a hand and an official placed a scroll in it. The chamberlain unrolled it. ‘In the second reign year of the Emperor Xuan Zong — that is to say, three hundred and seventy years ago — an Arab envoy from the Caliph insisted that he abased himself only before his god. After gentle persuasion he prostrated himself in the prescribed manner.’ The chamberlain took another scroll. ‘Here we have another precedent more closely touching your own situation.’

‘How so?’

‘You say that the Byzantines are the legitimate heirs of the Romans. You call yourselves citizens of Rome.’

‘By direct descent.’

‘Then you will be interested to know that one thousand years ago, ambassadors sent by a Roman sovereign called Anton performed the necessary obeisance before the Chinese emperor.’

Vallon looked at Hero. ‘A thousand years ago? That can’t be true.’

‘My knowledge of Roman imperial succession is patchy, but I recall that an Emperor Antoninus ruled about that time. If we can reach China, there’s no reason why the Romans shouldn’t have done the same.’

Vallon resumed his debate with the chamberlain on less certain ground. ‘I lost many brave men on this journey. I won’t debase their sacrifice by fawning.’

‘Please. In paying respect to the customs of the Middle Kingdom, you make those of your own more sacred. Every homage you render to our sovereign is becoming and will be returned.’

Forced into a corner, Vallon made his last effort. ‘Suppose I refuse?’

‘Unless you agree to observe the protocol, I will cancel the audience and you will leave China forthwith.’

Vallon sought advice from his colleagues. ‘What do I do?’

‘Agree,’ Hero said.

‘I suppose that if they asked me to kiss Shenzong’s arse, you’d say do it.’

Aiken rolled his eyes. He’d become more forthright since stepping out of Vallon’s shadow. ‘They’re not asking you to kiss the emperor’s arse.’

‘As good as,’ Josselin said. ‘Call their bluff.’

‘It isn’t bluff,’ Shennu said. ‘Nobody can approach the emperor without kow towing. His Majesty would lose face and that would be unthinkable.’

Vallon found himself looking at Lucas. ‘What do you say?’

‘I think you have little choice. Being expelled from China with nothing to show for it would be an even more bitter pill to swallow.’

‘Alexius won’t be pleased to hear that his ambassador grovelled in front of the Chinese emperor.’

‘You don’t have to tell him. Just say that you observed the necessary protocol.’

‘I have a suggestion,’ Aiken said. ‘Perform the kow tow. At the same time, pray to Almighty God and conclude by making the figure of the cross.’

Shennu looked sick with anxiety. ‘The chamberlain won’t agree.’

Vallon glanced at the officials on the other side of the room. ‘I won’t tell him.’

Vallon managed to bid the officials a polite goodbye before retiring to his sleeping chamber, barking at the servants to leave him undisturbed. Head thumping, he lay on his bed.

Dusk filled the room when Qiuylue slipped in. ‘I know you gave orders that no one was to enter, but I’m anxious about you.’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ Vallon snapped. ‘The order doesn’t apply to you.’ He saw Qiuylue flinch. ‘Forgive my harsh tone. This ceremonial flim-flam drives me mad.’

Qiuylue held his hand. Since learning that the emperor would receive her lover, she’d treated Vallon as semi-divine.

‘I can’t believe that tomorrow you will meet the emperor. What an honour. You must tell me every detail of the audience.’

‘If I had my way, you’d be at my side.’

Qiuylue gasped and covered her mouth.

Vallon found himself comparing her to Caitlin. They were so different from each other, yet he loved both, and with that realisation came a pang of sorrow. He knew with painful certainty that he’d already lost Caitlin, and he knew that he and Qiuylue would never have a chance to find lasting happiness.

The emperor was an early riser who began working on affairs of state long before daybreak. It wasn’t much past dawn when the chamberlain swept up with a troop of cavalry and a fleet of palanquins to convey the envoys to the palace. Waiting outside the pavilion, Vallon glanced at Lucas and experienced another wrench. The youth was as tall as him and already broader, but it wasn’t just his stature that impressed. In the last few months Lucas had shed his peasant clumsiness. Now, clad in glittering armour, he looked like a young god. Vallon’s swell of paternal pride subsided into bitterness. Lucas would never treat him as his father except in the most formal terms. How else could it be?

Vallon climbed into the leading litter with Lucas. Eight uniformed bearers hoisted it onto their shoulders and jogged out of the compound. Vallon peered out at the workaday streets.

‘It seems we’re not worthy of a triumphal procession.’

‘The emperor doesn’t want us to stage a grand entrance before he knows how the audience will turn out.’

Vallon shifted his sword. ‘You’re growing a head on those broad shoulders.’

For the rest of the journey the space around them ached with words neither could bring themselves to deliver. Vallon alighted as if he’d been set free and looked up the flight of steps ascending to the palace doors, each step occupied by soldiers bearing banners.

The chamberlain and his officials formed up in front and preceded the envoys into an antechamber where everyone stood with gazes uplifted as if waiting for a clap of thunder.

‘I don’t mind admitting it,’ Vallon said. ‘I’m nervous.’

Booming gongs and a roll of tympani brought the officials to attention. ‘The emperor has taken his throne,’ the chamberlain told Vallon. ‘I must emphasise that you observe the correct procedures.’

‘Lead on.’

The doors drew open and Vallon advanced into the throne room through files of soldiers and aristocrats. At the other end the emperor glowed like the sun. Clad in yellow silk brocaded with gold, hands clasped, he sat on a red lacquer throne decorated with dragon head finials, his slippered feet set on a footstool. Instead of the crown that Vallon had been expecting, he wore a clerical black hat with a stiff upturned front brim and a horizontal rod protruding from the back.

The chamberlain halted twenty yards from the throne and he and his entourage bobbed and scraped. Vallon was close enough to see that Shenzong had a bottom-heavy face, jaw wider than his brow, a rather sad moustache and a wispy goatee. Impassivity had been bred into him. Four flunkeys held rectangular flags above his head. In front of him and at a lower level stood the imperial family and ministers of the first rank.

When the envoys’ letters had been read out and their gifts laid on a yellow table, the chamberlain beckoned Vallon forward.

‘The emperor has graciously consented to receive you. Please observe the protocol.’

Vallon glanced round at his men. ‘You know what to do.’

In a move practised many times the Outlanders performed the kow tow, at the same time chanting the Kyrie eleison and ending by raising their eyes to heaven and crossing themselves.

Sharp intakes of breath from the court swelled into murmurs of indignation. The barbarians had insulted the emperor. The chamberlain stamped his feet in front of Vallon.

‘You broke your word.’

‘On the contrary. Since your emperor rules by the Mandate of Heaven, you can’t object if we address prayers to the Almighty who blesses both our realms.’

The hall grew still. Vapours from bowls of incense wafted up. A tiny gesture from Shenzong made the chamberlain gasp in relief. ‘The emperor has decided to overlook your crass behaviour on the grounds that you are not yet familiar with palace customs.’

Shenzong examined portraits of Alexius and the Byzantine empress. A flicker of amusement showed on his face.

‘His Imperial Majesty says your ruler is very hairy.’

‘In Byzantium a heavy beard is considered a mark of strength and virility.’

Tut-tuts of disapproval indicated that this might be taken as a slur on Shenzong’s masculinity.

‘His Imperial Majesty asks by what mandate does your emperor rule?’

‘By right of unbroken descent from the Caesars, by affirmation of his nobles and citizens, and by the grace of Almighty God who has appointed him His representative on earth.’

A few more questions followed concerning the route Vallon had taken and then the chamberlain said, ‘His Imperial Majesty is glad that your sovereign extends his friendship. He hopes that your stay will be a pleasant one and wishes you a safe return to your homeland.’

Vallon looked at Shenzong. The emperor’s face had lapsed into abstraction. ‘Is that it?’

‘The audience is concluded,’ the chamberlain said.

After backing out of the throne room, Vallon gave a hollow laugh. ‘We cross the world and for what? A few moments grovelling before a man who looks bored out of his wits.’

‘It’s an assumed manner,’ Hero said. ‘I imagine it never changes in public. The Chinese call him “the solitary man” and I understand why. He must be the loneliest man on earth.’

An official bustled up. ‘The chief minister wishes to have a word.’

Attended by a flock of officials, a rather unkempt gentleman in his sixties approached.

‘That’s Wang Anshi,’ Hero said. ‘The emperor’s closest advisor.’

Vallon made a cautious bow. Wang Anshi bowed back. His drooping eyelids and the bags under his eyes gave him a careworn look. At the same time his face projected intelligence and good humour. He waved his attendants out of earshot.

‘Your Grace,’ he said. ‘I would like to hear more about your country and the reasons for your mission. I would take it as an honour if you consented to receive me at your residence tomorrow.’

‘My lodgings, though opulent for an ambassador, are far too humble to entertain a personage as distinguished as yourself.’

‘My tastes and habits are simpler than you might imagine.’

Hero murmured in French. ‘He wants to speak in private, away from eager ears and prying eyes.’

Vallon bowed. ‘I suspect I will make a clumsy host, but if you are prepared to overlook my foreign ways, I will be delighted to receive you.’

‘How kind you are,’ Wang said. ‘I’ll call at the tenth hour if that isn’t inconvenient.’ Bowing, he returned to his staff.

‘That’s it,’ Hero squeaked.

‘That’s what?’

‘Don’t you see? The emperor is far too exalted to engage in diplomatic chit-chat. He leaves that to his ministers, none of whom is more senior than Wang Anshi. Tomorrow we’ll get down to matters of substance.’

Qiuylue bubbled with excitement when Vallon returned. She made him describe the audience a dozen times, each time from a different perspective. Her delight when he told her that the chief minister would be gracing their residence tumbled into shock and anxiety. Vallon only just managed to stop her rushing out to organise his reception.

‘Leave that to the servants. Tell me what you know about the minister.’

As the concubine of a senior officer she’d had many dealings with palace officials whose tongues had loosened after cups of wine. What she had to say about the minister worried and encouraged Vallon in equal measure. Wang Anshi was an enigma — a man born of low-ranking officials who’d risen to the highest office through the brilliance of his intellect. A Confucist who respected tradition, he was also a root-and-branch reformer. His attempts to overhaul the tax system, reorganise the military and create a bureaucracy based on merit had provoked furious opposition from conservative landlords whose interests he challenged, as well as intellectuals who on Confucian grounds preferred moral leadership to direct interference by a centralised government. Six years before, he’d been ousted from office, only to be reinstated two years later. He found solace from affairs of state in writing poetry.

The minister arrived at the appointed time with a modest retinue, bearers carrying his palanquin through an honour guard headed by Vallon. The general offered the minister his arm and together they went into the house. Wang Anshi subsided with a sigh onto a cushioned daybed. He dismissed all his attendants except a young clerk and a massive bodyguard who took up position in the doorway.

‘Will you take chai, Your Excellency?’

‘I drink only watered wine I prepare myself. I have to take precautions against poisoning.’

After a few pleasantries, Wang got down to business, beginning by explaining China’s situation. ‘Our greatest external threat comes from the Khitans. We have a standing army of more than a million, yet we pay the Liao empire an annual tribute of two hundred thousand bolts of silk and one hundred thousand ounces of silver.’ The minister smiled. ‘I believe a Khitan lady has infiltrated your own defences.’

Vallon blushed for the first time in decades.

‘Our army is composed mainly of foreign mercenaries, criminals and peasants forced off their land by extortionate taxes. I understand it’s the same in Byzantium. Does your military strategy work?’

‘It succeeds for the moment. Like China, Byzantium prefers to use bribes or diplomacy rather than warfare. It was different a century ago, when the empire was organised into themes — provinces governed by generals and defended by soldiers paid not in cash but by land grants. A soldier with his own patch of land will fight to the death to preserve it.’

‘I tried to introduce a similar system of local militia. I failed.’

They talked until noon before Wang stood. ‘It seems that China and Byzantium have many things in common — a costly army, an inefficient and iniquitous tax system, and a bureaucracy staffed largely by aristocrats selected regardless of character and merit.’

Vallon put the all-important question. ‘In your discussions with His Majesty, will you recommend that he draw up a formal alliance between our two empires?’

‘An alliance based on mutual weakness will assist neither side. Besides, China and Byzantium lie too far apart, separated not only by mountains and deserts, but also by at least three aggressive barbarian empires. Fine promises written on paper are worthless if they can’t be matched by deeds.’ Wang noticed Vallon’s disappointment. ‘At the very least you will return home carrying His Imperial Majesty’s formal declaration of friendship. That is,’ Wang said, ‘if you do decide to return home. There will always be a senior position in the Chinese army should you wish to remain in the Middle Kingdom.’

Vallon didn’t reject the suggestion out of hand. ‘Since you touch on the matter, I would very much like to have a first-hand look at Chinese military tactics and weaponry.’

‘I will arrange a field day.’

‘Thank you. I’ve heard stories of a strange weapon deployed by your soldiers — a powerful incendiary called Fire Drug. I’d be most interested to see it in action.’

Wang stood with his hands loosely clasped, rotating his thumbs around each other. There wasn’t much that escaped his sharp mind. ‘I will have to talk to officials in the War Ministry.’

A few days later Vallon and his officers rode out to watch the military stage manoeuvres. First they demonstrated the storming of a castle — a real castle, built for training purposes. A troop of infantry crept up under the cover of portable screens and raked the ramparts with bolts shot from heavy brass and wood crossbows. Then a team of engineers moved into place dragging trebuchets. They were smaller than the catapult Vallon had lugged from Constantinople, and instead of being powered by a counterweight, they were swung by teams of men hauling down on ropes secured to the short end of the throwing arm.

‘They don’t have the range or destructive power of Byzantine ballistae,’ Vallon said. ‘I’m surprised they don’t adopt our method.’

‘Their traction trebuchets are more manoeuvrable,’ Josselin said. ‘And they can discharge three or four missiles in the time it takes us to hurl one.’

The Chinese turned their attention to a wooden tower at one corner of the castle.

‘God curse it,’ Wulfstan said. ‘That’s a fire siphon or I’m a Frenchman.’

He was right. The Chinese pressurised a tank very similar to the one the Outlanders had brought with them and directed a spray of burning fuel onto the tower, reducing it to a blazing wreck.

Vallon applauded. ‘So much for our secret war-winner,’ he said.

In the afternoon they were treated to a display by cavalry units. One demonstration involved heavily armoured horse soldiers galloping down on an infantry position. From a distance the foot soldiers looked as if they were armed with nothing more than poleaxes, their position defended by thin, blunt-headed stakes fixed in the ground at an angle.

‘Those aren’t stakes,’ Vallon said. ‘The infantry are carrying fire-pots. Gentlemen, I think — ’

Brazen blasts cut him short. The cavalry launched their charge. Fifty yards from their target, the infantry lit the heads of their staves. They exploded with pops and bangs, discharging invisible missiles that stung the horses into wild disarray.

Vallon rode through the stinking smoke and found the infantry commander. ‘I was sure the cavalry would sweep you aside like chaff,’ he said. He pointed at the smouldering staves. ‘What manner of weapons are those?’

‘Fire spears, your Grace. They shoot lead balls, pebbles and glass.’

Vallon rode back to his men. ‘It’s not a fiction. Fire Drug works.’

‘That was play-acting,’ Josselin said. ‘A quarter of the spears didn’t ignite, another quarter discharged too early or too late, and those cries you can hear tell us that some of the weapons injured their own side.’

Vallon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Nevertheless, Fire Drug is worth having.’

‘How will you obtain it?’

Vallon sucked in his cheeks. ‘I don’t know, but I’m damned if I’ll leave China without achieving at least one of our goals.’