‘Oh no, it was a civilian ship. Passengers and some cargo.’
‘Is this ship here in Guangzhou?’
‘No, it... ran aground, a few months ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘There were only two survivors. Myself and one man. I found out, when he died, that he had caused the accident deliberately. He killed my father. But it was already too late to find out whether I’d have the courage to take revenge, or the courage not to. I don’t think I’d have liked myself much either way, so I’m glad I didn’t have to choose.’
Smoke and steam rose from long, low buildings set among the riverside trees. The abbot, flanked by two men from his quartermaster’s staff, stepped into the nearest one. Inside, sweating men and women were grinding black, steel tubes and fitting them against wooden stocks. Once the breeches and locks were added they would be rifles.
The abbot paused for a moment, watching them work.
Then he took a barrel from the nearest woman and examined it closely, inside and out.
‘Acceptable,’ he said, handing it back.
One of the quartermasters made a note.
The abbot moved along the production line and took a barrel from a man who had been working hard on it with a file. Examining it, the abbot could see that the end of the barrel had been filed at a slight angle. Once evened up it would be a fraction short when it was mated with a breech and stock.
He lashed out with the barrel, the steel smashing into the man’s cheek. The worker sprawled, bleeding and spitting teeth.
‘Replace this turd,’ the abbot said.
The quartermaster made another note.
Fei-Hung found the Doctor in the surgery studying one of his father’s medical texts.
‘Most interesting,’ the Doctor said. ‘Most interesting for this time period.’
Fei-Hung smiled, proud of his father and naturally glad to hear him praised. It lasted only an instant as he had brought more serious news. ‘Jiang is at the gates.’
The Doctor frowned as if unsure what the message meant.
Then his face cleared. ‘Oh, this ridiculous and silly duel. I’m rather afraid I had quite forgotten it.’ He sighed wearily. ‘Very well, let’s get on with it, shall we? Let him in.’
‘Sif-
Doctor,’ Fei-Hung corrected himself. ‘You cannot mean to fight Jiang-sifu.’
‘Can’t I indeed? And who are you to tell me what I mean?’
Fei-Hung had never seen such courage in a white man before. Or maybe it was stubbornness. ‘Do you not know who he is?’
‘A rival master to your father. Does it really matter?’
‘Two years ago a Japanese master came to challenge Jiang.
The Japanese had heard of his boasts about being a great fighter, and wanted to teach him a lesson. Everyone expected it to be a prodigious bout that would drag on and on.’
‘And wasn’t it?’
‘It took exactly one move. Jiang killed the Japanese master with a single kick to the head.’
All the students were waiting, ranged around the main courtyard. They were whispering among themselves, but Jiang couldn’t hear them clearly enough to make out what they were saying. Perhaps some of them were expressing dismay that one of their own would challenge the man appointed by the master of the school, but this didn’t bother Jiang. He was sure the majority were excited at the prospect of seeing him humiliate the
gwailo.
Once the Doctor was no longer in charge Jiang, as deputy, would take his place. Then he need only ensure that Kei-Ying didn’t return.
As if summoned by Jiang thinking about his father, Fei-Hung appeared through the latticework doors of the hall.
Chesterton, Barbara and Vicki followed. Finally, the Doctor appeared. He hadn’t even bothered to change into more appropriate clothing, Jiang noted.
The Doctor’s clothes weren’t loose enough to perform much in the way of martial arts, so perhaps he was going to forfeit.
That wouldn’t be as much fun, but it would still get Jiang what he wanted, so he would accept it.
The Doctor stepped down on to the courtyard and approached Jiang. He stopped a few feet away. ‘Well, young man,’ he said. ‘Do you still insist on this ridiculous duel?’
‘Unless you are choosing to forfeit. There is no dishonour in acknowledging one’s limitations.’ Jiang waited for the Doctor’s inevitable backing down.
‘So be it,’ the Doctor said. ‘Then let’s get on with it.’ He turned slightly side on, left foot forward, lowering his right hand behind him.
With his left hand, the Doctor beckoned to Jiang.
The sun had reached its zenith, and the Doctor and Jiang faced each other in the middle of Po Chi Lam’s courtyard.
Ian, Barbara, Vicki and Fei-Hung were standing on the raised veranda, while the other staff and students in their plain tunics lined the walls on either side. Everyone was giving the combatants plenty of room.
The Doctor, in his shirtsleeves and braces, was beckoning to the lanky Jiang. Ian steeled himself to jump in and take on Jiang himself. Without looking round Fei-Hung reached back to put a hand on his shoulder.
‘That will only get you beaten,’ Fei-Hung murmured. ‘And the Doctor as well.’
‘You know he can’t win.’
‘I know only that the Doctor is older, and I believe he cannot win. But I cannot know what will happen before it happens. Even the strongest warrior might be beaten by the weakest, if fortune so decides.’
Ian’s eyes momentarily flicked round to Fei-Hung. ‘That sounds like a very wise attitude.’
‘It should be. It’s my father’s. He drums it into all his students in the hope of preventing us from becoming arrogant and overconfident.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have made much of an impression on Jiang.’
Barbara could barely look. She had already seen Ian beaten almost to a pulp, and had no wish to see the same thing happen to the only person who could take them away from here.
Part of her mind told her the Doctor must have some plan, or that maybe he really did have the ability to match Jiang.
The old boy could be pretty sprightly when he wanted to, though she knew he always paid for it later. The larger part of her mind, however, simply went along with what her eyes were seeing, as did most people’s.
She could see an old man who walked with a stick preparing to fight a younger, fitter man who had been training all his adult life, and who had once killed a man with a single kick. She couldn’t understand why the Doctor was going through with this. She had visited Nero’s Rome and there she had watched Ian fight in the Coliseum as a gladiator, under threat of death. There was no such threat here from any authority, so why do it?
If it were two teenage boys fighting in the Coal Hill School playground she would almost understand. Boys of such an age seemed to have a genetic disposition to proving themselves. The Doctor was a far cry from being a teenage boy, and generally disapproved of violence.
She bit her tongue to avoid shouting to them to stop this nonsense, just as she would have done at the school back in Shoreditch. She had heard Fei-Hung’s warning to Ian and didn’t want to make the situation any worse. Despite this, she remembered her desire to hit someone when she was tending to the unconscious Ian the previous day. If Jiang brought the Doctor down perhaps she would just give in to that impulse, and see for once what it felt like.
Vicki watched the two men on the courtyard intently. She would have preferred to watch Fei-Hung knock seven bells out of this Jiang person, and find out whether he was as good as the stories and legends suggested.
She didn’t mind watching the Doctor fight. For one thing, as Fei-Hung had said, many masters were as old as the Doctor - or perhaps that should be as young as the Doctor appeared to be. She knew he was really much older, though she didn’t know by how much. If forced to guess, she would probably say she thought he must be five hundred years old.
She didn’t think he was frail, even though he was a demi-millenarian. Over the centuries he must have learnt lots of different things about looking after himself. She had been with him when he had fought off an assassin in Nero’s palace in Rome. Even though the man had been younger and stronger-looking than Jiang, and had been armed with a sword, the Doctor had fought him off with little apparent effort.
For this reason, and because of his intelligence, she was sure he would beat Jiang. She hoped she was sure.
Jiang knew he could bring the Doctor down with a good kick to the head, but he doubted that the watching students would see much honour in doing that to the old man. He wanted them to cheer him and accept him as their master, not vilify him. So instead, he started with a punch.
The Doctor didn’t even try to dodge it, and Jiang doubted that he could. At the instant before his fist would connect with the Doctor’s face, the old man started to lean back and his left hand began to rise. It was too late, in Jiang’s opinion.
Then the Doctor’s forearm connected with his own, his hand snaking up and around Jiang’s arm. It first went outwards over Jiang’s bicep, then ducked under his armpit, and suddenly the Doctor’s left palm was on Jiang’s chest next to the shoulder. Jiang never even noticed the Doctor’s foot dart out and catch his ankle, because suddenly he was on the ground with blinding agony shooting up his spine from his tailbone.
As one, the students and staff gasped. Then, slowly, they began to cheer. Fei-Hung could hardly believe his eyes. The Doctor had scarcely so much as moved, and Jiang, one of the best fighters Fei-Hung had seen, was down. Perhaps they did have masters in the west, and the Doctor was one. In any case, his father must have been right after all, to entrust the school into this man’s care.
Ian regretted ever having doubted the Doctor. He should have known the wily old bird would know how to deal with a situation like this.
Barbara felt her heart shoot up into her throat when Jiang moved, but then it was floating with elation rather than jumping in alarm.
Vicki gritted her teeth to avoid letting out a laugh. That would probably have been inappropriate, she thought. The Doctor hadn’t let her down, as she had known he wouldn’t.
Jiang bit down on the yell that wanted to burst from his lips.
The pain geysering up from his tailbone was scalding and freezing at the same time.
The Doctor looked down at him, an infuriating twinkle in his eye. ‘I hope you aren’t hurt too much.’ He reached out a hand. ‘Do you need any help?’
Jiang swatted the hand away, and rose. He hoped his legs didn’t look as wobbly as they felt. The old bastard had tricked him this time, but he was determined it wouldn’t happen again. ‘You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.’
‘I wouldn’t want to, dear boy,’ the Doctor said. ‘But this duelling is very dangerous - you might easily hurt yourself.’
‘You worry about yourself, Doctor,’ Jiang spat. ‘You were fortunate, and that will save you face.’ He lowered his voice to a threatening mutter. ‘Be thankful that you will not be seen as humiliated. You will die with honour.’
The Doctor’s expression was mild, understanding and downright irritating. ‘Yes, I suppose I shall. You know, there are laws against giving details of future events to people, hmm?’
Jiang had no idea what the Doctor was talking about, but was sure it was a deliberate attempt to confuse him and break his concentration. He refused to let this happen.
‘Again,’ he said, and lunged at the Doctor, careful to keep his weight moving forward.
This time the Doctor moved a little more. He caught the wrist behind Jiang’s incoming fist and pulled it towards himself. At the same time, he turned on his heel and slapped Jiang lightly on the back.
Jiang hit the earth face-first this time. The watching students applauded.
Jiang sprang to his feet, brushing dirt and pebbles from his face. ‘Fight properly, damn you.’
‘And what exactly do you mean by “properly”? Hmm?’ The Doctor’s tone was definitely slightly mocking now. ‘Like you do, I suppose? Well, that type of thing isn’t doing you much good here, is it?’
Jiang grimaced, his face burning. The old bastard wasn’t even putting in any effort! It was as if he was dismissing Jiang’s very thoughts and instincts, rather than besting him in a proper fight. He decided it was time to forget his magnanimous plans to allow the Doctor an honourable fight.
He came forward again and lashed out with a foot. It was the type of roundhouse kick that he practised by shattering clay jars of water, and skulls shattered more easily than the jars did.
This time the Doctor simply dodged back, not trying to stop the kick. This didn’t surprise Jiang too much, as he was certain there was nothing the Doctor could possibly stop the kick with. Even if he blocked it his arm would be broken in the process.
Jiang’s foot missed the Doctor’s head by inches, and he continued into a spinning back kick. The Doctor kept retreating towards the steps that led up to the veranda. Then he stopped and took up a guarding stance. Jiang felt himself filled with anticipation, and it was like the warmth of a good wine.