John steeled himself and walked around the ring of younger men all calling out to the two fighting in the makeshift ring. A few of them looked at him but most ignored him to cheer on their favorite. For a moment he caught sight of one of them jumping into the air to bring his leg around to crack the other man's face and split his cheek open. Cheering erupted and John blew as the two men continued to grapple and drew the crowd closer to them.
"Enjoying the view?" John looked up to see an older man, Mr. Ke, leaning on a tall stick and nodding at John. "Kung Fu is one of the oldest arts of this nation."
"It's… Like nothing I've ever seen." John winced as the man with a split cheek rapid punched the other man in the gut before dropping to the ground to sweep the feet. The man lost his balance and the crouch of the first man turned into an elbow strike that left his opponent curled in the fetal position and vomiting. "And I've seen street fighting in Hong Kong."
"But nothing like your Irish boxing?" Mr. Ke sat on a stool, his hands crossed over one another on the head of his stick. "I'm sure you could hold your own in the ring if you were pressed to participate."
John scoffed, cringing as a sharp crack and a howl indicated a broken bone. "Maybe when I was younger and stupider I'd risk it but now…"
"It's a wise man who knows his limits. A wiser one still who seeks to overcome them." Mr. Ke clicked his tongue at one of the men next to him and then nodded at the stool they produced for John to sit. "I'd imagine you'd like to get weight off that leg of yours."
"I'll accept your sympathy." John took the seat, holding his cane loosely in one hand. "Ms. Smith suggested you have a way that might strengthen my leg."
"Ah," Mr. Ke nodded before barking something in a dialect John recognized but could not understand. The older man waved his open hand at the ring. "These boys, they understand nothing about form."
"She said you trained with monks that taught you the martial arts." John led but Mr. Ke did not look at him. "I was just curious-"
"I know Ms. Smith told you about the arrangement she and I came to, in regard to the prisoners here." Mr. Ke finally faced John, cutting off any other lines of thoughts. "If we're to discuss that in the open we'll need to use English and that's unwise. So we'll leave whatever Ms. Smith said to you to ourselves and speak on your recovery instead."
John could only clear his throat and nod. "If that's what you wish."
"It is." Mr. Ke sat straighter. "I am only one of a group of elderly individuals in this camp who are dedicated to keeping the younger ones in line. Those determined to free themselves for the pride of it."
"And you tell them not to?"
Mr. Ke snorted, "You don't understand much about Chinese culture, do you Mr. Bates? You've great respect for it but no understanding."
"I'm sorry to say that's true." John shuffled in place. "I spent most of my time in India, when I was a soldier, and then traveled to Hong Kong and Shanghai and Beijing but… I was…"
"A drunk and a wastrel?"
"Yes."
Mr. Ke shrugged, his attention back on the two new participants in the ring. One kicking his leg in a series of turning spins while the other only ducked back in poses reminiscent of a praying mantis. "We've all made mistakes with our lives. It's what led us here, for better or worse, and it's what leaves us as we are."
John frowned, opening his mouth to speak but Mr. Ke cut him off. "You don't understand, and that's fine. You're young and you've experienced great pain. That closes the soul to opportunity."
"What kinds of opportunities?"
"The kind that forces us to push past our limits." Mr. Ke stood, John hurrying to copy him, and barked an order in a dialect John did not understand. "I'd like to see what you can do, Mr. Bates."
"What?" John balked as two men took his arms and directed him toward the ring. "I'm not… I can't…"
"These men are your peers now, Mr. Bates. Learn from them and they will learn from you." Mr. Ke stood straight, putting his hands over one another on the top of his stick. "It's the art of Shao Lin principles. You learn from one another and you better yourself through failure and humility."
"What?" John could barely understand the man before a fly foot caught him across the jaw. He stumbled backward into those gathered around the ring but they only pushed him back toward the man whose foot stabbed John hard in the gut.
He hit the ground hard, gasping for breath and trying to fill his collapsed lungs. His hand wrapped around his cane, still clutched in his fingers, and he whipped it around to snap against the man's standing foot as his other foot rose above John's bought to crack down on his abdomen. The snap of the wood on the man's ankle upset him and John rolled out of the arc of the man's falling foot so the heel strike only brought up dust.
John scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he tried to keep out of the reach of the man's flying feet as he tried to kick John. A whip of air sounded near John's ear and he barely dodged away before the man's foot could break his face. He tripped sideways into his cane and fell to his knees, barely sliding to his feet when the man's spinning kick caught John on the shoulder.
A shock of pain echoed through his shoulder and knee but John rolled to escape the man's stomp toward his head. He lashed out with his cane and happened to catch it between the man's legs to trip him onto his back. Pushing himself to his feet, John held tightly to his cane and held it like a sword.
His opponent put his hands near his shoulders, pushing his weight onto them so his knees pulled toward his shoulders, and jumped up to land solidly on his toes. John stumbled back in surprise and almost lost hold on his cane. It caught on the ground, pushing John sideways, but he missed another kick from the man.
A kick that John used to shove off from his cane to collide into the man's leg. His weight pushed the man off center and they tumbled to the ground together. John crawled onto the man's chest and tried to put his knees on the man's arms. But when John made the mistake of bending over to try and situate himself on the man's chest, John's nose cracked under the force of the man's forehead.
John rolled backward, lights and colors dancing before his eyes, as he hit the ground attempting to breathe. The hollow sound of wood rolling had his fingers flexing to try and reach his cane but he caught sight of the fuzzy foot kicking his cane away. John could only ground as the man's knee landed on his chest, pushing down as if to break his sternum.
He heaved, trying to breathe, and shoved at the man but his balance held superior to John's efforts to throw him off. John's vision tinged red and black at the edges as the man's thumbs pressed at his neck. The pressure had John blinking and forcing himself past the lack of air as his fingers continued to reach blindly for his cane. But he could reach nothing and his hand flapped uselessly against the ground.
Just as his vision faded to full black, something knocked against his fingers. He slid them along the surface and gripped as tightly as he could as he snapped his arm reflexively toward his body. The stick in his hand whacked solidly against the man's head and his weight landed heavily on John's stomach but relieved the pressure on his sternum and neck.
John gasped for air, trying to sit up, and brought the stick between him and the other man as the blade of his hand chopped toward John's throat. His right arm snapped out, taking the end of his cane to knock against the other man's temple. They tangled together, wrestling over the stick, before John brought his knee up to catch the man's between the legs.
His eyes widened and he howled for a moment before John dropped his left hand from the cane to force his fist into the man's face. A crunch, reminiscent of the pain still zinging through his own nose, sounded and the other man rolled to the ground. John used the stick to get himself to stand, staggering like the other man as they faced one another. He shook himself, eyes still fuzzing as blood returned to his brain and his nose bleeding from the break, but held the stick between his two hands as the other man raised his fists.
For a split second there was silence before the other man leapt toward John. He took two steps, kicking off the second to snap his leg toward John with a kick aimed directly from his knee. John ducked sideways but caught the other man's foot on the chin. The sharp hit of his back on the ground knocked all the air from him but he kept the stick between him and the man's second attempt to bring down a heel strike. It caught the back of the man's leg and John snapped it back to collide with the man's other shin.
The hop back the man took, hissing at the pain, allowed John to stab forward, falling onto his chest as the other man doubled over with choking sounds. John pushed off the ground and used both hands to throw the stick toward the man. He knocked it away but John's full weight caught the man about the midriff to slam him into the ground.
Familiar gasping sounds of lungs swiftly evacuated of all air trigged John to settle on the man's stomach and bring his fists down in a flurry on the man's face. The length of his arms outreached the bend of the man's torso and John knocked the man's weak flails away from his face. And when the man's head finally dropped back as John's final punch broke the man's nose again, John sagged sideways off the man.
The ring was silent, watching as John dragged himself on his elbows to the side of the ring to retrieve his cane. Shaking hands and weak legs had him standing long enough to meet Mr. Ke's eyes. A nod of approval before a few scattered cheers greeted him, gave John a small smile before he toppled forward and passed out.
He blinked, groaning as his entire body hurt. A hand rested on his shoulder, pushing him into his cot, and John cracked his lids to see Anna pulled a swath of bandage to tear it with her teeth before wrapping it between individual fingers. At his next groan she finally spoke.
"Not what I intended when I suggested you meet Mr. Ke."
"He was the one who tossed me into the ring." John's voice started strong before turning to a whisper when a louder volume rang in his head. "It was fight or die and I didn't want to die like that."
"Not boxing then?" Anna smiled and John moaned, holding at his sides. "Sorry. I probably should not make jokes when your body's a mess."
"What about the other man?"
"His face was something to see but with the poultices and my resetting his nose, both breaks'll heal just fine." Her finger tapped delicately on John's nose. "Like yours, which I set when you were unconscious. You do have two lovely black eyes that remind me of Southern China's panda but I guess we make do."
"What about…"
"Everything else?" Anna held up John's hand so he could see it. "You mangled your fingers beating his face in but most of them are sprains, not breaks. It'll be murder to try and wipe your ass after you take a shit but you should be fine in a few days. As for your other injuries… mostly cosmetic. Bruises and soreness that I can only treat with some white willow bark and tobacco."
"No morphine?"
"I don't use heavy narcotics as it tends to upset the mind and the mentality after sustained use." Anna stretched another length of bandage. "You, however, are lucky to be alive."
"Why's that?"
"Kent's not an easy one to fight." Anna carefully sat John up to wrap the bandages over his waist and up above his shoulder. "He's one of the best."
"Watched many of the training fights have you?" John settled back and noted Anna's snorting laugh. "Did I say something particularly funny?"
"The fights aren't just for training. Well, they are but-"
"Captain Bates," Both of them looked toward the tent door and John noted the speed at which Anna was out of her seat when Green entered. "I heard you barely survived Kent's kicks."
"I'm sure I did sufficient damage to his face to pay the price for his heel strikes." John sat himself up, moving as gingerly as possible. "Unless you're here to see if it killed me."
"No, they would've already carted your body to our very convenient grave for that." Green crossed his arms over his chest, scoffing at John's appearance. "He didn't spare you."
"I was told failure is a teacher and there was something about humility but I do admit that I did not quite keep it all in my head after I almost lost consciousness."
"You did."
"That was the second time." John groaned, "What can I do for you?"
"You can tell me if you're participating in the ring."
John frowned, "I don't understand."
"Surely, Captain, Mr. Ke didn't fail to tell you how it all works." Green took Anna's vacated chair as John's eyes darted in her direction. She gave a tiny shake of her head before John's focus returned to Green. "Mr. Ke, as one of the elders, trains his young men to fight so they can be competitors in our gambling rings."
"Your what?"
Green laughed, "I hope you didn't think me stupid enough to keep all my eggs in one basket."
"I didn't know you had baskets or eggs to keep there." John sighed, holding to his tender chest where he noted a large bruise blossoming at his sternum. "But what are your gambling rings?"
"They started out as pacifiers for the young. Ways to keep them entertained, fit, and use their energy elsewhere." Green took a deep breath, his arms moving up his chest with the motion. "Distract them from their woes with the application of breads and circuses, if you will."
"You do realize that mentality brought about the fall of Rome, yes?"
"And did you realize that I intend to not be in Rome when it falls?" Green winked at John, standing. "But I'd like to see what my patrons think when we've someone as broken as yourself bashing in the face of our star fighter."
"If I'd known he was a star, I wouldn't tried to put bruises where they didn't show." John hissed in pain as Green put a hand on John's chest and pressed on the bruising there.
"You know, Captain, I think you like to testing my limits. And, for the moment, I find it mildly amusing. But I warn you, should you tempt me further or, in any way, interrupt my work… I will not hesitate to kill you." Green leaned into his hand, pressing harder on John's bruise and bringing tears to the corners of John's eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"
John could only nod and Green released the pressure on his chest, grinning at him. "Then I hope you get fighting fit because, with autumn coming, we'll be ready for the fighting pits again."
"Yes." John grunted and Green turned to Anna.
"Get him well, Ms. Smith. I wouldn't want our prize getting too weak to be of use to use when the season starts."
"I'll do my best." Green left the tent and John sagged back into the cot as Anna came back to him. "Under the circumstances, I don't think I'll have much luck suggesting that you attempt to take it easy."
John could only let his eyes roll back into his head as his exhausted body forced him back into sleep.
As summer waned, John trained with the younger men in the afternoons and learned Tai Chi Quan from the "elders" in the morning. His recovery only added more bruises to his body, leaving him breathless and aching more days than not, but his reactions quickened, his knuckles calloused again, and his flexibility increased until he surprised the one they called 'Kent' with a kick above the other man's head. He even managed to teach a few of the younger men some finer points of bare knuckles boxing that they incorporated into their fights.
The air cooled in the mornings and the evenings, forcing John to bundle into the coats provided by the hard work of the seamstresses operating under the brutal efficiency of Mrs. He, and reminded him of Green's promise about the fighting pits. A promise that had him pacing the edge of the lake one evening as he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of the padded coat and watched the whispers of breath tendril from his mouth on the cooler air. He sighed, leaning on one of the rocks to watch the weak trickle of the waterfall that once coursed with life.
"It's fed by snowmelt." John turned to his head to see Anna descending the hill, wrapped in a coat of her own as she nodded toward the waterfall. "The snow's already started packing in the mountains again, slowing the water, and when winter's here in force we won't have anything at all."
"How many winters have you been here?"
"This'll be my third, when it comes." Anna gave a sigh of her own, the breath billowing from her mouth like smoke. "It once got cold enough to freeze the water here and we buried thirty people within the next two weeks. All deaths by exposure and hypothermia. Shaking and shivering their last in their beds."
"What about your toxins?"
Anna shrugged her shoulders, "We didn't have those then. Mrs. He and Mr. Ke didn't trust me when I first came here. They didn't trust any of the wàiguórén."
"The what?"
Anna shook her head, smiling. "It's the word they use for non-Chinese. Or words, I guess. It's difficult to think about that way because it's three characters but it represents the idea of people from the outside."
"They've never called me that."
"They wouldn't, not to your face." Anna shivered slightly, "It's not disrespectful, per se, but it's not a nice thing to call someone."
"It's obviously true."
"It is what it is." Anna leaned on the rock next to him. "Mr. Ke's impressed by your progress. Says you'll make a fine fighter, if not a bit older than he'd have preferred to start you off in these things."
"I'm old enough to be the father to most of those boys." John shrugged up his shoulders to try and keep his arms near his body. "What are they even doing here?"
"The same thing we are." Anna let her head fall back, looking up at the sky. "Trying to survive and make the best of a bad situation."
"I've been here six months," John said after a minute. "Six months of healing my body, breaking it again, healing it some more just to break it again and for what? What's the purpose of doing any of this when it's all lining the pockets of a man I'd like to throttle with my bare hands wrapping around his throat?"
"I've not got an answer for you." Anna's head came back, almost overcorrecting to look at the ground as she dragged the line of her boot in the dirt and rock. "Except to say that there is a line for those who'll get to wrap their fingers around his neck and you're not even the fifth person in it."
John snorted, "I imagine you'd be the first."
"Oh yes." Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've imagined killing him in a variety of ways. None of which , obviously, I've ever done anything about."
"Have you had the chance?"
One of her shoulders lifted non-committally. "The risk is always that there's another card up his sleeve. He's a devious bastard and I wouldn't put it past him to have some kind of booby-trap or a fail-safe in the case of his inevitable demise."
"And you don't want to risk it?"
"What's the point of escape when you're dead by the end of it anyway?" Anna chewed the inside of her cheek. "Part of me hoped that my letters had gotten through and we wouldn't be here now."
"What letters?"
"The messages I've exchanged with William." Anna turned to John. "I've had him trying to get messages and telegrams to Hong Kong so my friend, Lady Mary, could try and help us."
"How long have you been giving these messages?"
"A year, maybe."
John blinked at her, "And no one's responded?"
"It's difficult to tell, given the factors involved, but I've assumed one of a few possible conclusions."
"Such as?"
"The first is that William never gets the chance to send a telegram. He's from a poor village out here in Shan Dong. What operator in Beijing will ever give him the time of day or help him translate from Mandarin to English?"
"These scenarios only get worse, don't they?"
"I'll admit, they don't get much better." Anna took a breath, "One of the possible answers is that Lieut… Sorry, Captain Barrow somehow intercepts the messages or reassures the headquarters in Hong Kong that they're looking into the problem and it vanishes."
"Are there any more scenarios that help paint this increasingly depressing portrait of our utter abandonment?"
"That Lady Mary and her husband moved back to England and no one's received my letters because there's no one to receive them." Anna pushed off the rock. "But that's just a number of possibilities that explain the lack of aid."
"And no one, in the three years you've been missing, have any answer for why the Duchess of Ravensbruch hasn't been seen?"
"It's not uncommon." Anna waved him off. "When I came here I left Lady Mary in charge of my finances and most decisions. I told her then that I would be gone for… however long it took for me to find myself."
"And she understood that?"
"Oh no," Anna shook her head, "Mary thought I was mad as a hatter and tried to tell me that in words she thought I'd understand but I ignored her and came anyway. And, for the first few months I was gone, I received her updates so I know she was managing my estate well."
"And now?"
"She'll just think I'm still finding myself." Anna paced the beach. "The hardest part of it all is that I don't think I actually succeeded."
"At which part?"
"Finding myself." Anna turned on her heel to face him. "Do you feel like you found yourself here?"
"I highly doubt that's what I'd say I did here." John laughed out loud, "I found something else entirely and I don't… I don't even know what it is."
"You've no words for it?"
"How do you describe finding the balance you've craved for so long while also feeling the depths of despair that you can hardly plumb without looking into the abyss and realizing it looked back at you?"
Anna whistled, "You are at a crossroads, I think."
"Aren't we all?"
"It's more philosophical, I think." Anna held up one hand. "On this side you've your very Western philosophy that there's superior purpose in suffering. All things happen for a reason, and all that."
"What's in your other hand?"
Anna held it up as well. "The Eastern philosophy that all life is suffering. There's no a point to it, it just is. That's the balance. The peace of realizing that no matter happens you will suffer and it won't always make sense but that you trust in the balance of nature to correct itself. It's arbitrary and random but it is balanced."
"You sound like you've studied enough of their Buddha and Confucius to create an argument with Nietzsche and his other German philosopher friends."
"Wouldn't that be something?" Anna laughed with him for a moment. "But I understand what you mean."
"You do?"
She nodded, "For all the bad here I found Mrs. He, who's perhaps the best friend I've had in my entirely life besides Mary. I found Mr. Ke who, for all his gruff and dramatic sayings has a kind heart and endeavors to do the right thing by those he serves and those who depend on him." Anna paused, "And I found you."
"I can understand that." John stepped toward her, taking her cold hand with his. "Because I feel the same. For all the horrible pain and fear this place invokes in me on a daily basis, I found you."
He kissed her hand and Anna shivered slightly. "You continue speaking like that, John, and I'll come over all insensible."
"I like you insensible." John smiled at her, his other hand brushing a bit of hair back behind her ear. "It's been so long since I've seen you that way and my dreams aren't the same."
"You dream about me?"
"You're the only thought I have when I don't have to think about anything else." John's lips ghosted over the skin of her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw line, that bit of her neck peeking over the collar of her coat, and then toward her lips. "You're the only person that gives my life any meaning. You're the purpose to all suffering I might ever endure."
Anna turned into his lips, holding him close with her fingers digging into the skin at the back of his neck. She broke the kiss only long enough to press their foreheads together and whispering feverishly into his lips. "Take me to mine John. I want to be with you. Right now."
"I live to serve."