Tai-Pan

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Struan entered the house quietly. It was almost dawn. Lim Din was sleeping beside the door and he awoke with a start.

“Tea, Mass’er? Breakfas’?” he asked sleepily.

“Lim Din bed,” Struan said kindly.

“Yes, Mass’er.” He padded away.

As Struan walked down the corridor, he glanced into the living room and stopped. May-may, pale and motionless, was sitting in the leather chair, watching him.

When he came into the room, she got up and bowed gracefully. Her hair was piled on her head and pulled back, her sloe eyes delicate, her eyebrows arched. She wore a long and flowing Chinese robe.

“How are you, lass?” he asked.

“Thank you, this slave is well now.” The pallor and the cool green of her silken gown added to the immensity of her dignity. “Would you brandy have?”

“No, thanks.”

“Tea?”

He shook his head, awed by her majesty. “I’m glad you’re better. You should be in bed.”

“This slave begs you to forgive her. This slave—”

“You’re na a slave and never have been. Now, there’s nothing to forgive, lass, so off to bed.”

She waited patiently until he had finished. “This slave begs you listen. She must say in own way what must be said. Please sit.”

A tear slipped from the corner of each eye and skidded down the whiteness of her cheeks.

He sat, almost mesmerized by her.

“This slave begs her master to sell her.”

“You’re na a slave, and you canna be sold or bought.”

“Please to sell. To anyone. To whorehouse or to another slave.”

“You’re na for sale.”

“This slave offended you beyond bearing. Please to sell.”

“You have na offended me.” He got up and his voice was metallic. “Now, off to bed.”

She fell onto her knees and kowtowed. “This slave has nae face before her lord and owner. She cannot live here. Please to sell!”

“Get up!” Struan’s face tightened.

She rose. Her face was shadowed and ethereal.

“You’re na for sale because no one owns you. You will stay here. You have na offended me. You surprised me, that’s all. European clothes do na suit you. The clothes you wear I like. And I like you as you are. But if you dinna want to stay, you’re free to leave.”

“Please to sell. This is your slave. Until an owner sells, a slave cannot go.”

Struan was near exploding. Control yoursel’, he told himself desperately. If you lose your temper now, you lose her forever. “Go to bed.”

“You must sell this slave. Sell this slave or order her to go.”

Struan realized that it was useless to argue or reason with May-may. You canna treat her as a European, he told himself. Deal with her as though you’re Chinese. But how’s that? I dinna ken. Treat her as a woman, he ordered himself, deciding on a tactic.

He exploded with pretended rage. “You are a miserable slave, by God! And I’ve a mind to sell you into the Street of the Blue Lanterns,” he shouted, naming the worst of the seamen’s streets in Macao, “though who’d want to buy a dirty baggage slave like you I dinna ken. You’re nothing hut trouble and I’ve a mind to give you to the lepers. Aye, by God! I paid eight thousand taels of good silver for you, and how dare you make me angry? I was cheated, by God! You’re worthless! Dirty slave—how I’ve put up with you these years I dinna ken!” He shook his fist in her face, and she recoiled. “Am I na good to you? Eh? Generous?

Eh? Eh?” he roared, and was pleased to detect fear in her eyes.

“Well?”

“Yes, lord,” she whispered, biting her lips.

“You dare to get clothes made behind my back and dare to wear them wi’out my approval, by God? Well,

do you?”

“Yes, lord.”

“I’ll sell you tomorrow. I’ve a mind to throw you out now, you miserable motherless whore! Kowtow! Go on, kowtow, by God!”

She blanched at his fury and kowtowed quickly. “Now keep kowtowing until I come back!” He stormed out of the room, and went into the garden. He jerked out his knife and selected a thin bamboo from a newly planted grove. He cut it and slashed the air and rushed back into the living room.

“Take your clothes off, you miserable slave! I’m going to flog you till my arm hurts!”

Trembling, she stripped. He seized the dress from her hand and threw it aside.

“Lie down there.

^v

He pointed at the ottoman. She did as he ordered. “Please no to whip me too hard—I’m two months with child.” She buried her head in the ottoman.

Struan wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew that this would make him lose face in front of her. And a whipping was the only way to give her back her dignity.

So he slashed her buttocks with the bamboo. Hard enough to hurt, but not to damage. Soon she was crying out and weeping and squirming, but he kept on. Twice he deliberately missed her and slashed the leather violently, so that the noise was terrifying, for the benefit of Lim Din and Ah Sam who he knew would be listening.

After ten blows he paused and told her to stay where she was, and went over to the brandy bottle. He drank deeply, hurled the bottle against the wall, and resumed the whipping. But always with great care.

Finally he stopped and dragged her up by the hair. “Put on your clothes, you miserable slave!” When she was dressed, he bellowed,

“Lim Din! Ah Sam!”

They were trembling at the door in an instant.

“Wat for nae tea nae food, you miserable slaves! Get food!”

He hurled the bamboo at the side of the door and turned back to May-may.

“Kowtow, you motherless wreck!”

Aghast at the limitlessness of his fury, she hastily complied.

“Clean yoursel’ and come back here. Thirty seconds or I’ll start all over again!”

Lim Din served the tea and though it was just right, Struan said it was too cold and threw the teapot against the wall. May-may and Lim Din and Ah Sam rushed away and hurried back with more.

The food came with incredible speed also, and Struan allowed himself to be served by May-may. She whimpered with pain and he shouted, “Shut up or I’ll whip you forever!”

Then he fell silent, ominously, and ate, letting the quiet torture them.

“Pick the bamboo up!” he screamed as he finished.

May-may fetched the bamboo and handed it to him. He prodded her in the stomach. “Bed!” he ordered harshly, and Lim Din and Ah Sam fled, secure in the knowledge that the Tai-Pan had forgiven his Tai-tai, who had gained limitless face by enduring his righteous fury.

May-may turned around tearfully and went along the corridor toward her quarters, but he snarled, “My bed, by God!”

She ran into his room. He followed and crashed the door shut, and bolted it.

“So, you’re with child. Whose child?”

“Yours, lord,” she whimpered.

He sat down and extended a booted foot. “Come on, hurry up.”

She fell on her knees and pulled off the boots and then stood beside the bed.

“How dare you think I’d want you to meet my friends? When I want to take you out of the house, I’ll tell you, by God.”

“Yes, lord.”

“A woman’s place is in the home.

Here!”

“Yes, lord.”

He allowed his face to soften a trace. “That’s better, by God.”

“I did na want to go to ball,” she said in a tiny whisper. “Only to dress like . . . I never want ball. How for go ball—never never want. Only to please. Sorry. Very sorry.”

“Why should I forgive you, eh?” He began to undress. “Eh?”

“No reason—none.” Now she was crying piteously, silently. But he knew that now was too soon to relent completely.

“Perhaps, as you’re with child, I may give you another chance. But it better be a son, not a worthless girl.”

“Oh yes—please, please. Please forgive.” She kowtowed and knocked her head on the floor.

Her crying was tearing at him, but he continued to undress sullenly. Then he blew the lantern out and got into bed.

He left her standing.

After a minute or two he said curtly, “Get into bed. I’m cold.”

Later, when he could stand her weeping no more, he put his arms around her tenderly and kissed her. “You’re forgiven, lass.”

She cried herself to sleep in his arms.