A/N I do not speak or write Chinese, any errors in the language are mine as I have had to rely upon the internet for my source. If anyone can correct me-please let me know.
The Golden Lotus
Chapter Two: May, Roeun, France
With a lance of agony stabbing his temple, someone had tossed Javier up against the wall while another man was rifling his pockets.
He reached towards his aching head, but the thief delivered a punch to his gut that bent him over double. "Not much left, must have bought the drinks," he mumbled, grabbing Javier's head by his hair, "too bad, the ladies will miss you."
Javier had enough presence of mind to see the glint off the knife in the man's hand; "Hail Mary, full of Grace..." he began. His life was going to end here.
Hands left his body; the thief was jerked away and flung backwards into the dark. The knife wielder turned too late to see the hand that grabbed his wrist and forced it backwards. His yelp of pain was cut off by a blow to the side of his head knocking him senseless against the wall; the knife hit the ground making the last sound to be heard in the alley.
Javier had dropped sitting with his back against the wall. He must have blacked out, because he woke to a wave of nausea that overcame him, and turned to throw up violently. Pulling a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe his mouth, he sat up and looked around the alley.
The knife wielder was just moving out of the alley, holding one arm closed to his body. Moving on hands and knees Javier approached the thief. The man lay on his back; his neck askew at an odd angle, a thin dark line ringed his throat. The man's eyes were open, a look of surprise on his features, he knew the man was dead. Javier made the sign of the cross and got to his feet.
June, Rouen, France
Paying for the last of the supplies, Javier picked up his bag and headed out the door of the shop. Across the street stood Marthe Garatte, she looked up and down the road and motioned him over with a toss of her head. She was a tall blousy woman with wiry red hair and piercing dark eyes. "I need to talk to your boss, Javier." She told him in a dark, smoky voice.
He gave her his most charming smile. Javier didn't usually resort to the prostitutes in town, but it never hurt to be friendly to the girls. "What do you need, Madame? Maybe I can be of service?"
She gave a bark of laughter and a playful slap on the shoulder, "Javier you could charm the clothes off of a nun, but to get under these skirts costs money." She glanced towards the tavern, "Besides, Michel doesn't like me giving it away for free. Bad for the trade you understand?"
Javier pretended to look crushed, "Very well, break my heart! All you women do." He sobered, "What do you need from Martin?"
"We've got trouble with one of the younger girls. This fellow keeps bothering her, to the tune of bruises. She wants a ride home to La Roche. We took up some money to pay her way."
Javier had never seen Martin being overly attentive to any of the women he dealt with. He had taught Javier the benefits of getting gossip from the shop girls or prostitutes. On occasion, he had actually seen Martin slip them some money, but never for their bodies. "Marthe, I don't think Martin will take her. He moves cargo, and not the two legged kind."
"Just tell him it's a favor," she replied.
Back at the boat, he told Martin about the prostitute's request. "Marthe says the man is roughing her up."
"I'll talk to her," Erik told him, leaving the boat for the city streets.
Although they were in Rouen which Martin claimed a preference for, he always stayed on the boat, it was literally his home. Javier had noticed how Martin was sought after by a lot of people. They rarely came to the boat itself, but rather sent messages to Martin through him or waited to talk to him while he was in town. He had tried joking with Martin once, telling him he was going to have to pay him extra for being his messenger boy, and received a flat look and a non committal grunt in return.
Preferring to keep things good natured, Javier had learned how far to pry, how far to tease, and when to simply accept that the man would reveal very little about himself. Observing how he dealt with others, Javier got a better grasp of what made Martin the man he was under that taciturn exterior.
"She's a good kid, she doesn't deserve this," Marthe said tiredly.
"Where's her home," Erik asked.
"La Roche is where her family was from. It's the only other place she knows."
Erik considered his next run, it was north, not east and certainly not miles past Paris as they were asking him to take the girl. He considered his options. "Would she take a mill job here if she could?"
"Probably, she's only a whore because that was all that was left for her. She just needs to get away from that bastard before he does damage to her that won't heal."
Some of that damage was probably done already, but he would make sure that more wouldn't occur. He took a card out of his wallet, "Tell her to talk to this man. They'll be expecting her, he'll have something for her."
Marthe took the card. "Dugast? Doesn't he work for one of the cargo companies?"
"Yes, but he and I owe each other some favors. Tell her to show him the card. He'll find something for her." He thought for a moment, "Does she need money?"
"No, cher, we'll cover for her. What do we owe you?"
Erik shook his head. "Nothing."
Marthe gave him a slow smile, "Anytime, cher. You understand? Any of the girls will take care of you. You do us a lot of favors, yes?"
Erik nodded. "Yes, I understand." He walked away.
July, Canal du Nord, Normandy, France
Moving under the pull of a mule along the tow path, the boat would set about a 4 knot cruise on the Canal du Nord on the way to Dunkerque. Javier stayed outside for most of the trip, soaking up the warm sun, but today had started out overcast.
Their route would take them past villages, and through locks along the canals. Javier chatted with the lock keepers as they waited for the water levels to change. Some of the families would come out, offering for sale vegetables from their gardens, or some of the local wines.
As their boat eased into the lock and the gates closed, Javier noticed a group of children running. From the lock keeper's house, a girl appeared, yelling for her father. "Papa, we can't find Marie!"
The group was looking around the edge of the canal, one of the children pointed, Javier saw the small child lost in the tall grass tottering towards the edge, and she was walking towards a small dog that was looking down into the water.
Most of the boats were constructed to be an exact size to fit the lock with little room left on the sides. If the child fell in, it could mean death by being crushed by the boat for anyone who went in after her.
The girl and her father both called out to the child, she stopped, looking in their direction, the other children catching up to her. While they breathed a sigh of relief, the children called to the dog, but their words turned to cries as they watched the animal pitch into the canal.
Javier ran along the canal with the father. Striding along the side of the boat, Martin dropped off of the deck and into the water, scooping up the dog in his arms. Javier took a leap, landing back on the boat, and knelt down to take the dog from his partner. Sitting the shivering animal on the desk, he offered a hand to Martin, who pulled himself back onto the boat.
"Are you out of your mind? You could have been killed for a dog," Javier asked, gesturing to the animal that sat forlornly dripping water in a pool on the deck.
Martin had the good grace to look confused, as if he had just taken the most logical action in the circumstance. "The animal needed help." He stepped over to the small dog, and lifted it gently. Cradling the animal he walked to the back of the boat and handed it off to the waiting children.
Once the gates were opened, the young girl came back and pressed a warm quiche into Javier's hands. "Mama wants him to have this," she said quietly.
Javier nodded to the girl and went to the cabin, dropping off the quiche on the table. "The family sent you this."
Erik concentrated on guiding the boat out of the lock, making no reply.
September, Ghent's Chinese Quarter, Belguim
Once they were in the store, the Chinese motioned for them to go to the back. At the desk, an older man took out a key and handed it to Erik. "The Garden house in the Abeelstraat near the bridge," he said quietly. "Midnight the moon shall rise."
Erik nodded, pocketed the key and left. The Chinese watched with respectful eyes, opening the way to the door.
Once in the street Javier asked, "What was that about? Is that our next cargo?" He glanced around to make sure they weren't followed.
Erik went directly to the boat. "No. We will meet them at the place he refers to as the Garden House after midnight."
Javier yawned. "Can't they just conduct their business at a better hour?"
He didn't look at Javier. "I can go alone if you aren't up to it."
Something important was going to happen, Javier could feel it in his bones. "No, I'm coming."
The house that they were looking for was not the sort that Javier had hoped would be referred to as a Garden house. Like all the other buildings in the city, they were three floors tall, narrow, bricked and the front doors opened directly onto the sidewalks. He had hoped to see some grand building with plants around it.
Erik walked up to the front door and opened it with the key, quickly motioning Javier inside; he closed the door behind them.
Entering, the interior more than made up for the bland outside of the house. The walls were painted in Red with golden trimmings. The furniture in the sitting room was low and made of dark wood with gorgeous curved legs. Cabinets sat along a wall, in the dark lacquered wood, they sported large highly polished brass closings in elegant circular shapes, long red tassels hung from the latches. Strangely shaped lamps with silk shades illuminated the room. Incense curled in a bowl on a side table, and a vase of large white peonies decorated the other side table.
Along one wall was a curious couch. It looked like a bed with a handle at either end. Sitting in the middle was a small woman. Her colorful and highly embroidered silk robes were arranged carefully about her, he hands pulled up into the sleeves. Her feet were covered by the lower part of her gown and there was a small footstool underneath its hem.
Javier thought she must be older, for although her hair was dark as night, her eyes held a wisdom beyond the years of the young. Her face was carefully painted in cosmetics that made her skin a startling white, with rouge painted over the tops of her cheeks and across her eyes. The eyes and brows were lined in the darkest black. A single spot in the center of her lips sported a carnelian lip coloring, making her mouth look tiny. As still as she sat, she might have been a porcelain doll.
Erik stepped over the threshold of the room, and bowed gracefully. A man moved forward to stand before the woman on the couch; he said something in his native language. To Javier it was softly voiced, lilting, and punctuated with exotic sounds. Martin did not respond, only bowed again to the other man. Javier stood his ground. As he had only recently taken up with Martin he did not know whether he had traded with these people before, and waited.
The man, who had moved forward, was dressed in European clothes, his hair cut in the current fashion. Only his skin color and the shape of his eyes would proclaim him Asiatic. "My name is Wang Te-k'un, may I present the Lady Meng."
Javier watched as once again Martin bowed slowly. He repeated the movement from where he stood at the threshold. He could at least look like he had manners.
The woman continued to examine them, and then spoke in lilting Chinese which the man translated for them. "She gives you greeting, monsieur. She has need of your most excellent services."
Erik waited for the woman to continue. She looked him over carefully, and said, "Chou." The young man cast her a glance, and she motioned imperiously.
"She says that you are ugly. Please understand, in our language she has paid you a compliment. The word she uses means you are ugly with the connotation of charm. You display some interest to her, because of your distinction."
¡Cristo!, Javier prayed. He hoped Martin was in a mood to make money. No one had ever called him ugly to his face in a charming way or otherwise that he had ever heard tell.
Erik mused on the connotations of the words. At least she had meant he was an interesting kind of ugly. "Sie-sie," he replied, giving her thanks in her own language.
She motioned again, and her interpreter began, "The Lady Meng is a concubine to Chen Zizhuang. It is to their daughter, Li Mei that I was married. My wife recently passed on and has left me a widower with a small daughter." He stopped momentarily. "I do not know how familiar with our culture, monsiuers. But according to our custom it is the responsibility of the Mother to see to her daughter's chances for suitable marriage."
"And if the Mother dies the Mother in law takes over," Erik finished, watching the Lady Meng.
She began the Chinese again, her heading bobbing side to side, her mouth twisting in a snarl and her gestures dismissive. "The Lady Meng does not wish this for her granddaughter. As she is my child, I do not wish this for her either," Wang Te-k'un said.
Silence filled the room for a moment. Erik glanced backwards at Javier. "They are going to want us to smuggle the child out of the country."
Javier balked, "Oh, now wait a minute. You aren't seriously thinking of taking this job?" Javier looked at the Lady Meng again, "No offense, but running away with children is not our sort of work is it? Surely there are laws here in Belgium we will be breaking; we may wind up in jail. We are going to jeopardize the chance of any further business in this country if we have trouble with the authorities."
Martin was quiet a moment, turning to consider the Father. In a quiet voice he asked, "Lady, will you show him your feet?"
The man translated while Javier looked askance at his partner. What did the woman's feet have to do with this conversation?
The older woman and Erik continued to stare at one another, her obsidian eyes shifted to Javier and she exposed a hand to take up a cane. She wrapped it on the floor sharply and a young servant scurried into the room. Javier watched as the child pulled the Lady's robes away, revealing tiny, slippered feet.
Erik motioned him forward, the Lady began speaking again. "When I was three years old, my Mother wanted to assure that I would make a good wife. In my country, this means we have our feet bound."
Javier saw a small embroidered slipper on the woman's foot, but something was very wrong with the foot. Stepping forward, his first impression was that she had the clubbed foot he had seen on cripples. Her feet were impossibly small and shaped like a hoof.
The Lady continued, "My mother broke my toes and doubled my foot back in the bindings over a block of wood. For the next three years I was forced to walk on my feet until they broke completely." She stopped for a moment, her lips twisted and she spoke again in a voice filled with emotion. "My Mother loved me! It was her duty to bind my feet so that a man would wish to marry me. It was her duty to listen to my cries day and night for the pain in my feet. Since the day the binding began, I have never walked."
Javier though of his two sisters, he would never have dreamed of putting them through this. The thought of a mother doing this to her own child made him feel physically sick. How could the Chinese force this on their daughters?
Erik added quietly, "Most of the women can hardly walk. They have no future in life except to marry a man who will support them."
Javier looked at Lady Meng again. She sat regally in her elegant silks, amid the splendor of her home. A home she could not even walk in. "That makes them prisoners then doesn't it?"
Erik nodded. "Prisoners to the whims of their husbands, as well as prisoners to the pain they live in."
The old woman nodded slowly, her voice full of emotion, "I want my granddaughter to be free. I want her to know how it is to walk, and to dance, as I never could."
Wang Te-k'un added, "It is my desire as well. We do not live in China anymore. We moved into the Western world to seek our fortunes with our families. We do not forsake our customs, but this," he motioned to Lady Meng, "is a custom that no longer has a place in our lives. Unfortunately, my Mother does not agree. Since my wife died, the responsibility will fall to my Mother."
The Lady spoke again, her tone grim. "She presses for the san zun jin lian, the 'Golden Lotus'. A foot three inches in length, a foot even smaller than mine. The pain will be relentless; my granddaughter might even die from her foot rotting as the toes loose blood and decay under the bandages."
With that picture in mind, Javier turned and headed for the door. Once outside he put his back to the wall and took deep breaths. He felt flushed, and dizzy. He tried to put the horror of the little girl's suffering out of his mind. A child turning to a Mother who was forced by her society to make her daughter endure the years of pain.
They waited until Javier returned. One look at his partner's face told Erik that he had made the right decision to take the young man on.
Javier sketched a bow towards their hosts. "Let's get on with it."
"Lady Meng, your words have touched our hearts." Erik told her.
She nodded gracefully. "You understand don't you? You have suffered in your own prison of flesh."
"Yes," Erik replied, he new all about the hell of pain and suffering. "You will not have to worry for your granddaughter. We will see that she is free."
Lady Meng sat unchanged, but the father's eyes glistened with unshed tears, "Thank you," he said, and bowed.