Saigon: A Novel Part 14

In his turn Joseph, anxious not to offend again, was careful to remain at a distance behind her as he wandered through the gardens and palaces. He too pretended to study the treasures of the tomb with care, but the motionless rows of life-sized mandarins and elephants carved from white stone drifted almost unseen past his eyes and the sculpted dragons and other mythological beasts entwined in the roofs and bal.u.s.trades in reality received little more than a pa.s.sing glance from him. As he followed her slowly across the lake towards the tree-covered tumulus known as the Mount of the Sun, the antique, weather-mellowed dwelling places of the imperial spirits remained beyond the real focus of his vision; to him the splendid pavilions were merely a sublime backdrop for the lithe, living figure moving beguilingly ahead of him, her long mane of hair flowing darkly down her back. In one of the shadowy temples when she thought she was un.o.bserved, she knelt briefly before an altar in prayer, and coming in sight of her suddenly from the garden, his heart lurched inside him; with her head bowed over her hands, her kneeling figure seemed to radiate simple piety and goodness, and in that instant he knew he loved her.

The realization made him tremble inwardly, and he wanted desperately to rush to her side and tell her of his feelings. But remembering the startled, uneasy expression in her eyes minutes before, he fought down the impulse and waited out of sight until she rose to her feet again. Then he moved quietly to her side, feeling a new sense of pleasure in their closeness, and together they viewed Minh Mang's most intimate possessions - his great teak bed with its long pillow of decorated porcelain, his favorite jewels and weapons, the altars on which every morning fresh dishes of his favorite foods and beverages were set out by tomb guardians. They didn't speak again until they were standing outside in the Garden of Eternity where azaleas, orange flamboyants and frangipani blossomed around twin lotus pools; the sun was still pleasantly warm, and the deep, thrilling silence was broken only occasionally by the muted calling of waterfowl from the lake below them.

"This must be how paradise is, Lan," said Joseph in an awed whisper. "It hasn't lost any of its magic, has it?"

She shook her head, but there was still a hint of melancholy in her smile. "It's still an enchanted place - but perhaps as we grow up our worries grow bigger too. I don't really expect my prayers to be answered this time."

Joseph frowned, "Then there is something bothering you?"

"Yes." She looked anxiously along the terrace and didn't continue until she spotted Tam and his fiancee climbing the steps to the Gate of Dazzling Virtue. "I try not to think about it all the time - but my father was very upset by the trouble at the Cercle Sportif. Kim's hotheadedness has caused trouble between them before. But after the tennis match he and my father quarreled violently. ... Kim insulted him and vowed to become a revolutionary. In the end my father ordered him never to return to our house." The recollection disquieted her, and she tugged agitatedly at the bracelet of translucent blue jade on her left wrist, "It's upset all my family, of course."

"I thought your father seemed a little distracted this morning."

Lao nodded, still tugging unconsciously at the bracelet. "It's affected him the most. The Communist troubles five years ago were bad for my country. I hoped all that had pa.s.sed - but obviously it hasn't. My father's afraid that one day there might be a civil war." She sighed and gazed at the golden roofs glinting in the sun. "In this beautiful place those worries don't seem to be real. Coming here makes me wish I could get away from all those awful things."

"I wish I could show you my country, Lan," he said impulsively, seizing her hands. "Wouldn't you like to see America?"

He had spoken before he realized what he was saying, and again she looked uneasy. "Please let me go, Joseph," she said quietly, struggling to free her hands. "My brother might see us."

He loosened his grasp reluctantly and she turned and began walking away from him across one of the three little parallel bridges leading back towards the Hall of Venerated Beneficence. Realizing that within a few minutes they would be back in the sampan with her brother Tam, he caught her up quickly in the middle of the bridge and took her gently by the arm again.

"I believe you feel something for me, Lan - I think I can see it in your eyes. I know you need time - but I could come back to Saigon to work for a while. That way we might get to know each other better. Would you like to do that?"

"My father wouldn't approve of such a thing."

She half turned away from him to gaze across the lake, and he saw her tugging agitatedly once more at the jade bracelet.

"Why not?"

"Because of Kim! Perhaps you can't understand - but now my father needs the loyalty of Tam and myself more than ever. I can't think of myself at a time like this."

"But I don't see-"

A sharp cry escaped her lips suddenly, and she leaned out over the parapet, gazing horror-stricken into the waters below. Frightened that she might topple off the bridge, he seized her shoulders. "What is it, Lan?"

When she turned to look at him, her face was white and tears were br.i.m.m.i.n.g in her eyes. "My bracelet! It's fallen into the lake." She held up her bare wrist for him to see.

Joseph peered into the blue water twenty feet below but saw nothing. "Don't worry," he said soothingly, "I'll buy you another bracelet."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"It can't be replaced. It was given to me by my mother when I became twenty-one. It's been pa.s.sed down in our family from life to life, from mother to daughter for over two hundred years. It was a gift to one of our ancestors from the imperial court."

Joseph stared helplessly at her stricken face. "I'll try to find one just like it."

"It's another bad omen," she said in a horrified whisper.

They heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see her brother, who had obviously heard her cry out, approaching at a run.

"Please, Joseph, don't tell Tam," she pleaded. "My mother and my family mustn't know the bracelet's lost."

When Tam came up to them, she pretended she had twisted her ankle and leaned on her brother's arm all the way back to the sampan. During the journey downstream to Hue she scarcely spoke, and Joseph forced himself to exchange polite conversation with Tam about the tombs. The River of Perfumes was again as serenely beautiful as it had been earlier, but as the light faded, somber black shadows began to creep across the valleys, and in his dejection Joseph thought he suddenly sensed an ominous, brooding quality in the jagged mountains that hadn't been noticeable in the brightness of the afternoon.

6.

The face of the Frenchman who stared incredulously at him as he entered the foyer of his hotel on the morning of the Sacrifice to Heaven seemed only vaguely familiar to Joseph Sherman. Then in a remarkable feat of memory he recalled a fleeting encounter with a stoop-shouldered stranger on a street in Saigon eleven years before while watching shackled Annamese prisoners endure a savage beating; the man in the foyer had the same unhealthy, parchment-like skin that hung slack on the bones of his face, his yellowing eyes were sunk in the same blackened sockets, and when he came close to him, Joseph's sense of smell was jolted back eleven years too, as he detected the same mustiness about the man's clothing that betrayed the addicted smoker of opium. Then with a palpable sense of shock Joseph realized he was mistaken; the aging, dissipated face was not that of the supercilious colon he and his brother had met briefly in 1925 - he was looking at Jacques Devraux.

The Frenchman didn't drop his gaze until Joseph stopped in front of him; then he held out his hand, smiling apologetically. "Forgive me, Joseph, for staring like that. But you looked so much like your brother as you came through that door. For a moment I couldn't believe my eyes."

Joseph hesitated, not wanting to have any physical contact with the man before him; illogically he had expected Devraux to have remained unchanged - to mirror still the silent, heroic image that had first scored itself so deeply in his impressionable, fifteen-year- old mind on that first ride through the jungle. The thought of seeing even that man again had induced a sour, sullen mood, but the startling deterioration in the appearance of the once clear- eyed hunting guide sent a new sensation surging through him - contempt. His instinct was to ignore the Frenchman's greeting pointedly, but in the end habit prevailed and, regretting it immediately, he allowed his hand to be shaken.

"There's no need to concern yourself," said Joseph speaking with a deliberate coolness. "I've got very used to people telling me I look like Chuck. Paul said the same thing."

In the awkward silence that followed Joseph saw Devraux's gaze flicker over the wet swimming costume wrapped in a towel that he carried under his arm, then s.h.i.+ft to his still-damp hair. "Even so, it can't be an enjoyable experience, Joseph. I apologize."

"It's really not important. May I ask how you knew I was in Hue?"

"Paul sent me a wire from Saigon. He told me you were writing a book." Devraux spoke his previously clipped English in a dull monotone as though he made the effort now unwillingly, and he stumbled occasionally over his words. "He urged me to make sure that you saw the ceremonies from the best vantage points. I left a note here yesterday to say I would arrange something. I trust you received it."

"Yes, I did - thank you." The typewritten note stating that the "Chef de Surete d'Annam" would call after breakfast had been waiting for him the previous evening when he returned to the hotel from the tomb of Minh Mang, and he had decided that if a meeting became unavoidable he would try to be civil but no more. Outside the hotel the streets of Hue, decked with national flags and banners bearing expressions of good omen, were filling rapidly with crowds of Annamese gathering to catch a glimpse of the Emperor Bao Dai, and Joseph gestured through the windows in their direction. "It's getting late. Perhaps it would be better if! made my own way there. It'll take me a few minutes to get ready."

Devraux shrugged. "As you like. But I've made special arrangements for the Tran family at Paul's request and would be glad to include you. You'll be able to see very little of the procession or the ceremonies on your own. The spectacle is greatest at the Bull Gate as the emperor leaves the Imperial City. If you go over there alone, you won't be able to follow the procession back to the south side of' the river - the Clemenceau Bridge will be closed for two hours after the emperor pa.s.ses. I've arranged a sampan to bring the Trans and myself to this bank. I've got Surete cars waiting here to take us all to a viewing stand at the Nam Giao. And I've reserved places for you and the Trans inside on the temple steps tonight for the climax of the ceremonies."

Joseph wavered for only a moment or two then the prospect of seeing Lan again swayed his decision. Hue was the only city in the world where the three-thousand-year-old ritual of the Sacrifice to Heaven inherited from China's emperors had been celebrated since the overthrow of the last Peking dynasty in 1911; soon it seemed certain that the tradition must die in Hue too, and because the elaborate ceremonies were performed only once In three years, the opportunity, Joseph knew, was unique. To see the solemn procession emerge from the Purple Forbidden City and follow it across the River of Perfumes to the Nam Giao would be an unforgettable experience; the Nam Giao was the sacred walled compound, corresponding to the blue-roofed Temple of Heaven in Peking, where the emperor would spend the day in meditation before performing the sacred rites, and Joseph decided it would be foolish to pa.s.s up such a rare chance to witness all this pageantry from a position of privilege.

"If you don't mind waiting a moment or two longer," he said quickly, turning towards the stairs, "I'd be glad to accept your invitation."

The ramparts of the Citadel glowed a fiery red in the light of the rising sun when fifteen minutes later Joseph and Jacques Devraux stepped onto the modern bridge of latticed steel girders that spanned the river. Two imperial elephants decked with gold harness and ridden by Annamese in blue, ankle-length court uniforms stood guard at the entrance to the bridge, ready to close it to traffic as soon as the boom of nine cannon from inside the Citadel indicated that the emperor was ready to leave his secluded palace; this signal, however, was not expected for another ten minutes, and all around Joseph and the Surete chief a noisy, excited crowd was still pouring across the bridge towards the northern hank.

Among them a shabby pousse-pousse bearing the wasted figure of Ngo Van Loc attracted no attention. A wide hat of palm leaf hid his features, and his thin body was clad in the black tunic and white trousers of a middle-cla.s.s Annamese clerk whom he and his son Dong had ambushed and robbed in a narrow side Street in the Annamese quarter of the city the night before. Dong, stripped to the waist, loped easily between the shafts of the pousse-pousse, a black peasant's turban wound around his head, but even if the Frenchman or Joseph had turned to look behind, they would not have recognized him as the shy thirteen-year-old who had once romped in their jungle hunting camp. He had grown into a tall, gangling youth of twenty-four who had to affect a stoop to hold the shafts of the pousse-pousse level, and the expression in his brown eyes, although watchful, hinted at the physical self-confidence his unusual height gave him.

"It's the American who told me Devraux was here in Hue - I'm sure of it." Loc leaned forward in his seat to murmur quietly in his son's ear. "It looks as though he's taking him to the Ngo Mon. Don't get close. There are too many people around to do anything here."

Dong nodded obediently and slowed his pace. They had been shadowing Jacques Devraux since he left his home that morning, and Dong had agreed before they set out that his father should decide when the best moment came for him to act. Behind him Ngo Van Loc settled himself in the pousse-pousse once more, s.h.i.+fting his paralyzed arm into a more comfortable position with his other hand, and as they continued across the bridge he glanced back towards the southern bank where they had watched Devraux station the two Surete Renaults before visiting the American's hotel. For a moment his brow creased in thought, then he touched the hard steel b.u.t.t of the Beretta pistol concealed in the waistband of his trousers and searched ahead among the crowd until his gaze came to rest once more on the white-suited figure of Jacques Devraux.

"No copulation ... no garlic no wine. . . but plenty of hot baths and devout prayers - those are the rules of the 'Great Abstinence' the emperor's been practicing for three days now. Or at least he should have been." Devraux's ravaged features twisted in a sardonic smile as he glanced at the young American at his side. "After spending ten years of his youth in Paris, there's some doubt in court circles whether he's still capable of observing the Great Abstinence --. even for three days."

They had come in sight of one of the carved stone bridges leading across the moat, and Joseph caught his first glimpse of the golden palace rook that had so entranced him as a boy; the heady charm of the imperial tombs was still fresh in his mind too, from the previous day, and the Frenchman's cynicism about the ceremony suddenly deepened the offense he felt in his presence. "You say that, Monsieur Devraux, as though France has reason to be proud of the corruption it's brought to the Annamese."

The American didn't trouble to hide the animosity he felt, and Devraux looked sharply at him. For a moment Joseph saw again in the Frenchman's expression a hint of the fierce, soldierly pride that had once distinguished him; then he shrugged and turned away. "Times change, Joseph. Everything changes sooner or later."

"The force of the Sacrifice to Heaven has given meaning to these people's lives for three thousand years," said the American truculently. "To them Heaven and Earth have always been the mother and father of their existence. They've always believed the good favor of their great ruling spirits can pa.s.s to them only through the virtue of the emperor and his ancestors - that's why he has to be seen as a remote, magical figure when he makes his sacrificial offerings every three years. If France has endangered their faith by dragging their emperor off to Paris for half his life, it's hardly something to be proud of."

The Frenchman angered Joseph still further by smiling again. "Perhaps you're right. But the emperor himself doesn't seem to object. I suspect he might rather be playing bridge or poker right now. He's fond of cards - a useful golfer too for a young man of twenty-four. And he rushes around those mountains over there in a supercharged French sports car, dressed in sweaters and shorts, without seeming to worry too much about disturbing the evil spirits trying to clamber over into Hue." He touched Joseph's arm lightly to indicate a turn through one of the Citadel's gates. "He's a realist. He knows you can't really live in the past Joseph didn't reply. As they emerged into the esplanade inside the Citadel walls, he caught sight of the dazzlingly arrayed throng of courtiers waiting for the emperor outside the Ngo Mori, the golden-roofed "Bull Gate" designed in the style of the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Peking. Imperial troops wearing cone-shaped helmets with golden spikes jostled with gaudily clad mandarins, musicians and bearers of ceremonial regalia, and among them Annamese generals, resplendent in uniforms of violet and green brocade, trotted on st.u.r.dy, short-legged ponies. From beyond the inner walls of the Imperial City Joseph heard a high-pitched Tibetan temple trumpet begin to wail above a sudden clamor of drums and gongs, and he instinctively quickened his pace.

"The emperor's ready to leave," he said excitedly. "We've arrived just in time."

The moment Joseph and Jacques Devraux disappeared into the shadow of the Citadel gate Ngo Van Loc leaned forward in the seat of his pousse-pousse to tap his son on the shoulder.

"Head back across the Clemenceau quickly, before it closes! They must he using a sampan to reach the cars on the southern bank. That's where we'll strike!"

Doug turned immediately and broke into a gallop. He reached the bridge just as the sound of cannon fire began to echo from the fortified city, and his rickshaw was the last vehicle of any kind allowed to set out for the southern bank. A few seconds later the Annamese mahouts maneuvered their elephants into position to seal off the roadway.

7.

The tolling of a single bronze bell high or the gilded balconies of the Ngo Mon heralded the arrival of the emperor's entourage, and a moment later Joseph saw its vanguard emerge from the deep shadow of the gate's central arch. Six shoeless bearers in belted court robes and tiny conical hats fringed with tinkling bells carried the Table of the Cult on their shoulders under the watchful eyes of a contingent of the Imperial Guard; behind them a group of mounted generals escorted other litters displaying the emperor's sacrificial robes and his personal ceremonial objects - incense burners, golden goblets, swords and lanterns, Great throngs of drummers, gong bearers and other musicians striking mournful notes on ancient stone lithophones followed the grave-faced bearers of the Symbols of Good Augury as they emerged blinking into the bright morning sunlight holding aloft the Table of the Wine of Felicity, the Chair of the Nine Dragons and representations of the Sun, the Seven Stars, Rain, Wind, Thunder, the Nocturnal Light.

The fragrant smoky scents of aromatic resins and aloe-wood swirled on the breeze from little wayside shrines, and as moment by moment new squadrons of richly robed courtiers marched out through the gate to the discordant beat of cymbals and gongs, Joseph felt himself transported deep into Asia's mysterious past.

The Imperial Coach drawn by eight stallions and the Imperial Chair - both empty on the outward journey from the palaces - appeared, followed by a jostling crowd of white horses from the court stable; although rider-less, these favored animals were escorted by livened grooms who held a forest of tall yellow parasols above their bare backs. More dancers, musicians and bearers bobbed through the gate in a moving tide of gaudy colors - then abruptly the drums and cymbals ceased their clamor, and the waiting crowds, recognizing the signal, craned forward to catch a glimpse of the emperor himself.

In the expectant hush Joseph couldn't resist the temptation to turn his head in Lan's direction. She was standing with Tam and her mother only a few feet away inside the enclosure that had been reserved for French dignitaries and the families of high-ranking Annamese; poised on the tips of her toes and shading her eyes with her hand, she was gazing intently towards the Ngo Mon, watching for the Annamese sovereign and, among the other senior mandarins who would follow him, her own father. She wore a pale blue ao dai decorated with pink floral motifs, and Joseph felt his senses quicken as he watched the fine tulle of the filmy outer garment, caught by the breeze, mold itself against her slender body. In his jacket pocket his hand closed round a jade bracelet wrapped in an envelope of silk, and he wondered if he were ever going to have the chance to give it to her. On her arrival Lan had greeted him as formally as did her mother and Tam, and afterwards avoided his glance. He had tried without success to catch her eye while they waited for the procession to begin and had sensed then her continuing anxiety. He had considered trying to slip the bracelet to her surrept.i.tiously in an effort to bring a smile back to her face- but then decided against it for fear of embarra.s.sing her.

A murmur of excitement rippling through the crowds drew his attention back to the ceremonial gate, and he turned in time to see the Imperial Litter s.h.i.+ft out of the shadows of the archway on the shoulders of twelve tall Annamese bearers; a gift from Louis XVIII to the Emperor Gia Long, its glossy coachwork of black lacquer and gold filigree glittered and flashed whenever a shaft of sunlight penetrated the s.h.i.+fting glades of yellow parasols cl.u.s.tered around it. As the litter moved by him, Joseph caught a fleeting glimpse in the shadowy interior of the slender figure of Bao Dai resplendent in his yellow robes. He wore an elaborate silken turban of the same color on his head, but he remained motionless in his seat, looking shy and ill-at-ease and glancing neither left nor right as he proceeded; in the profound silence that had fallen over the crowd the only sound was the faint scuff of the bearers' unshod feet on the metaled roadway. Other male members of the imperial family and the highest mandarins of his court followed the emperor at a respectful distance in hooded rickshaws, and Joseph saw Lan.tug excitedly at her mother's sleeve as Tran Van Hieu, composed in his black winged bonnet and embroidered gown, glided silently past.

Her face was still alight with her smile of pleasure when she turned in his direction, and seizing his chance, he smiled back and moved quickly to her side. "Lan, please let me speak to you privately," he whispered. "Cart you leave your family for just a moment?" Inside his pocket he clutched the bracelet once more as he waited for her answer.

For a second or two they stood side by side with their backs to her mother and Tam, watching the procession flow away from them across the esplanade; they heard the gongs and drums begin again as the front ranks reached the Clemenceau Bridge and started across the river - hut. still she made no reply. Then the harsh, incongruous sound of gasoline engines reached Joseph's ears and he looked around to see a cavalcade of s.h.i.+ny black Citroen motor cars driving out through the Ngo Mon, carrying the governor general of Indochina and his suite. The French officials inside the limousines stared straight ahead in the manner of the emperor, but the lofty hauteur of their pale features contrasted sharply with the uncomfortable expression of the olive-skinned Annamese sovereign.

"If you want to heat the Nam Giao in time to see the procession arrive," said Jacques Devraux, appearing suddenly at Joseph's elbow, "we must leave and cross the river now."

A moment later Lan moved away, walking between her mother and Tam, and Joseph could only follow behind disconsolately with the Frenchman.

Beneath the shade of a gnarled tamarind tree on the southern bank of the River of Perfumes, Ngo Van Loc straightened in the cus.h.i.+oned seat of his rickshaw when he caught sight of Devraux's sampan nosing out into the stream; the white-suited figure of the Surete chief was clearly visible seated beside the young American in the rear of the craft, and two hundred yards away along the waterfront boulevard, Loc could see that the two Surete drivers had come to attention beside their black Renault tourers. After looking round cautiously to see if anyone was watching, he tugged the Beretta pistol from his waistband and slipped it under the cus.h.i.+ons of the rickshaw; then nodding meaningfully to his son, who was squatting on the gra.s.s by the bole of the tamarind, he climbed down from his seat and set off towards the Surete cares, walking slowly and casually in the shade of the riverside palm trees. When he had gone, his son put on a ragged s.h.i.+rt, picked up the shafts of the rickshaw arid began trotting towards the two Surete Renaults as well.

On board the sampan Joseph saw the rickshaw moving along the waterfront without registering it. His distracted gaze kept returning to the slender figure of Lan who was seated beside her mother in the forward part of the craft. He had tried to force himself to watch the procession strung out now across the length of the bridge above their heads; he could still hear the jangling gongs and cymbals echoing across the blue waters of the river, and from that distance the marchers in their brightly colored costumes looked like a slow-moving tide of confetti; but for the moment their fascination for him was gone - his mind was lost to thoughts of Lan.

She was seated with her back to him, and because the sun hadn't reached its full heat she still held her hat in her lap. Her hair was dressed for the occasion in a formal chignon, pierced through with a tiny jeweled dagger, and he sat watching a stray wisp that had come loose in the river breeze elude the absentminded grasp of her fingers. Suddenly she bent and turned her cheek, the better to ensnare it, and caught him watching her; he smiled eagerly, but to his intense disappointment she again affected not to notice and turned quickly away.

"How has your father managed with the disability he suffered after the accident?"

Joseph started inwardly at the sound of Jacques Devraux's voice beside him. "He's always refused to have a false limb," he said guardedly. "But he's too stubborn to let it affect his daily life very much. He does most things that require two arms with only one."

The Frenchman nodded. "He's a very determined man."

Joseph stared for a moment at the Surete chief. "I never expected to see you again, Monsieur Devraux," he said quietly, trying to hide the sudden intensity of his interest. "But now that we've met, would you mind telling me exactly what happened on the day of the accident?"

Instead of answering, the Frenchman turned to look upriver in the direction of the procession and took his time lighting a cheroot. "I expect your father has already gone into all that, hasn't he?" he said at last, exhaling smoke slowly through his nose. "I wasn't directly involved."

"But wasn't his safety your responsibility?"

Again the Frenchman didn't reply immediately. "In normal circ.u.mstances, yes. But that day your father decided to take all responsibility on himself."

"Why?"

"He was suffering from fever. I advised him most strongly to stop hunting in the heat of the day. He chose to ignore that advice."

"And was that the cause of the accident?"

Joseph's voice shook a little as he put the question, and for the first time the Frenchman turned to look at him. "Have you discussed this with Paul?" he asked carefully.

"No - not at all."

The sampan's oarsman swung the craft broadside on as they neared the quay, and for a long moment the Frenchman studied Joseph's taut face. "They went on ahead on their own, your father and your brother, Chuck.. . . When I caught up with them it was too late." He drew hard on the cheroot once more, then tossed it into the water. "That's all I can tell you."

Fifty yards along the waterfront in the opposite direction Dong had just overtaken his father, who was still strolling casually towards the two Surete Renaults. Seeing that Devraux's sampan was about to moor, he stopped the rickshaw and fumbled under its cus.h.i.+on; when he straightened again his ragged s.h.i.+rt bulged above his belt where he had concealed the pistol. He broke into a trot when he saw Jacques Devraux help the older Annamese woman onto the low quay, then began to speed up with the light rickshaw as the Surete inspector led the way towards the cars. Dong thought for a moment that he had misjudged the distance, but to his relief Devraux motioned the two younger Annamese and their mother into the rear seats of the first car and held the front pa.s.senger door open for Joseph; he heard Devraux give instructions to the driver to take them via the side streets to the viewing stand outside the Nam Giao, and the moment the Renault accelerated away he began to sprint, veering diagonally across the wide boulevard towards the second Surete car.

The French driver of a Citroen traveling fast behind the rickshaw leaned on his horn immediately when he saw the rickshaw pull out into his path. He could have braked and avoided a collision without difficulty, but the seemingly idiotic change of direction by the pousse-pousse coolie irritated him. On hearing the horn, Dong glanced frantically over his shoulder, but he was too late to swing aside, and one of the Citroen's big chromium head- lamps caught the hood fabric of the rickshaw and knocked it over, The car's front wheels ground the frail wooden vehicle to matchwood in an instant and the force of the collision sent Dong sprawling. As he fell, the pistol tucked inside his s.h.i.+rt flew free and clattered noisily across the road in a sudden vacuum of silence. It came to rest by Devraux's feet, and picking it up, his driver held it towards him with an astonished expression on his face.

Dong, stunned in the collision, rose unsteadily to his feet; his shoulder had been gashed arid blood was soaking through the tattered remains of his s.h.i.+rt. When Devraux gesticulated angrily in his direction and shouted to his driver to seize him, he turned and began to run back the way he'd come. A crowd of goggle-eyed Annamese gathered instantly to watch the aftermath of what they imagined was a simple road accident, and Ngo Van Loc forced himself to remain quietly in their midst as the driver caught up with the injured Dong and frog marched him back to the remaining Renault. He was near enough to hear Jacques Devraux give the driver curt instructions to take Doug immediately to Surete headquarters for interrogation, and when the car had gone, he walked numbly away along the riverbank, blinking back bitter tears of anger and despair.

8.

A thousand tiny lanterns set in the high ramparts of the Nam Giao glimmered like yellow stars in the midnight darkness. Inside the sacred enclosure a chorus of imperial heralds called for silence, and their shrill voices, carrying easily on the soft night air, were audible in the hushed streets of the city far beyond its walls. Above each of the four gates illuminated banners emblazoned with golden Chinese characters marked the four points of the compa.s.s; a black flag identified the north, white the west, blue the east, while a blood-red standard swung lazily in the breeze above the open south gate, which according to the cult's age-old doctrines, gave access to Heaven.

In the center of the compound flaming oil cressets set on tall poles bathed the stepped terraces of the Azure Temple with flickering orange light. On the highest level three altars dedicated to Heaven, Earth and the Imperial Ancestors had been set up beneath a dark blue tabernacle of dyed animal hides, which betrayed the origins of the ancient cult among the desert nomads of Central Asia; a single opening in this sacred marquee allowed a broad beam of white light to escape southwards into the night, and beneath it a ma.s.sed throng of silent dancers and musicians spilled down the steps of the lowest terrace and out through the open south gate into the darkness beyond.

Joseph and Lan were standing together in the group of specially invited guests who had joined the governor general's suite on the first terrace below the yellow-draped Altar of lncense. Joseph had been among the last to arrive, but a moment before the heralds' voices rang out, he forced his way through the close-packed crowd to a place on the steps beside the Annamese girl and her brother. In the deep silence that followed, all eyes turned towards the House of Fasting where the emperor had secluded himself fourteen hours earlier, and as the crowd s.h.i.+fted, Joseph felt the softness of Lan's silk-clad shoulder move unconsciously against his arm. He looked down quickly at her; for the evening she had knotted a square of pale green silk around her hair, and in the flickering torchlight her cheeks seemed to glow like polished amber. Already the clouds of incense swirling into the hot night air from the nearby altar were making him feel dazed and lightheaded, but this new glimpse of her shy beauty and the tantalizing softness of her body sensed in that fleeting moment of contact induced in him a pa.s.sionate yearning.

Ring the bells! Beat the drums! The Son of Heaven approaches!"

The falsetto voices of the heralds quavered again, then the instruments of the ma.s.sed musicians jangled and throbbed in greeting as a line of flickering torches appeared winding through the trees of the Sacred Grove that ringed the House of Fasting. When the emperor's golden litter came into sight, Joseph heard Lan let out a little gasp of admiration, and he looked up to find Bao Dai arrayed magnificently in the elaborate antique court dress of the emperors of China. Over yellow robes he wore a wide-sleeved purple surcoat embossed with mythological symbols which only a sovereign might display; around his waist was clipped a gem- encrusted belt hung with ornaments of jade and precious metals which tinkled as he moved to ward off evil spirits, and from the fringes of his bejeweled crown dangled another twenty-four auspicious pendants. The young emperor's thin face was pale and taut, but the grandeur of the moment transfixed the crowd, and Joseph seized the opportunity to take the jade bracelet from his pocket. Without anyone noticing, he slipped it into Lan's hand and closed her fingers carefully around it before she had realized what he was doing.