# Blood of the Eagle/Chapter 3
### III

The mandarin Wang Ling slept with his fathers, and behold, there was a new ruler in the land of Ngong. Last of his line was Wang Ling, whose ancestors had bequeathed to him the pleasant valleys nestled amid the mountains and the great town of Ngongfu in the midst thereof. He had died one night in his sleep, after a banquet at which the French resident had sat at the mandarin's right hand as his guest of honor. By a strange coincidence, this lonely Frenchman also died in his sleep that same night.
Quietly and painlessly the reins of power slipped into the fingers of Liu Ku, the huge yellow eunuch who ruled the palace. Liu Ku had been abroad in the world—to Hanoi, to Yunnan, to Rangoon—and behind his fat moon face was an uncommonly sharp brain. He made no attempt to place himself upon the vacant throne of the mandarin. Instead, he consulted with the head wizard from the college of shamans—and the result was most astonishing.
Had Marco Polo set foot in the Ngong of the twentieth century, he would have found it not unlike the China he knew in the days of Kublai Khan. The pure-blooded folk were of the native Chinese race who call themselves sons of T'ang; they boasted no cues, wore the Ming bonnet and robes, and retained many ancient customs unknown in the China of to-day. They were, in the main, either merchants, nobles, or soldiers. The mixed bloods formed a lower class, below whom were the brown natives, little better than serfs.
The city was built of brick and wood, and was grouped about a huge brick-walled palace inclosure of some fifty acres. Here dwelt the mandarin and his entourage of nobles and soldiers—a city within a city. None but folk of pure Chinese blood were allowed within these palace walls, watched over by thirty-foot bronze phoenixes as guards against evil spirits. Beside the phœnixes stood rifle-armed soldiers.
That the nobles of Ngong, who could trace their lineage back to the time of the southern Sung emperors, should be ruled by a moon-faced eunuch was entirely out of the question. Liu Ku knew this perfectly. Accordingly, he published an edict which had the effect of confounding and astonishing beyond measure every one in Ngong.
Devoid of lingual ornaments and put into plain words, this edict read:
The fang shi have read in the books of air and water that the heaven and earth gods have decreed a new ruler to Ngong. His name is unknown, for the gods send him. He will arrive within twenty days from the death of Wang Ling.
He is a white man, yet he is of the royal blood of T'ang, and bears the sacred symbol of royalty, the white jade fish. Upon his breast the gods have marked the same symbol which is to be found graven on the stone slab over the Hsimen.
From the hour this edict was written, crowds assembled about the West Gate, where they never ceased gazing upon the curious stone slab above it and speculating upon the will of the gods. These yellow folk were stubborn and quick to anger, yet they were superstitious in the extreme, and did not question the prophecy—particularly as the next three weeks would see it verified or proven false.
Liu Ku summoned his most inveterate enemy, Colonel Chou, a leader among the nobles, and gave him a hundred soldiers, ten of them riflemen and the others archers.
"Guard the southern valleys," he ordered. "Prevent all communication with the lands beyond, and particularly with the Frenchmen."
"And if this new ruler sent by the gods shall arrive?" queried the colonel.
The moon face of Liu Ku was creased in a smile of derision.
"Hei! The wizards are fools, and their visions are inspired by wine!"
Colonel Chou spread these words among his brother nobles, most of whom hated the fat eunuch bitterly, and then went forth on his errand. So the nobles decided to bide their time and see what happened—which was exactly as Liu Ku desired.
Meanwhile the usurper sent fifty of the palace archers out into the hills, to raid the nearest Shan tribe and bring in some girl slaves; and another fifty to meet a trade caravan which was expected from the Yunnan border. The French resident had forbidden trade with China, but he was dead, and could no longer prevent it.
It occurred to nobody—how should it?—that all these events were remarkably well timed, and that their coincidence was really extraordinary.
The raiding party returned from the hills on the eighteenth day, bringing many girls and a large quantity of prime opium. On the same day the Yunnan caravan came in—long files of porters, long files of mules, all deeply laden with merchandise. The bazaars were filled to overflowing. Furs and silks, inks and brushes, pots and porcelains, weapons and sacred images—everything that could be fetched from ancient China was here.
Once more the old city breathed life and vitality. Sedan chairs swayed through the streets, soldiers swaggered bravely, the wine shops and gambling dens were roaring with trade. Ngongfu, mistress of the hills, was herself again!
An observer would have been prompted to ask a question of economics—whence came the money to pay for this huge supply of goods from China? If the answer had been known beforehand, not one but a hundred Frenchmen would have been quartered in the residency.
Upon the following day the city was crowded with country folk. Every one was lat a keen pitch of excitement; for on this day, or never, the prophecy would be fulfilled. If it failed, the eunuch Liu Ku would probably be murdered in the palace, and the strongest of the nobles—who was Colonel Chou—would become the ruler of Ngong.
Two hours past noon, the thronged streets and bazaars suddenly fell into hushed silence. Men stared into the sky, looked at one another, muttered in awed accents. Over the city, stealing up from the valleys below, drifted a dull throb that was less a sound than a vibration.
This was the thrum of the great bronze gong in the nearest watchtower, four miles down the valley. It was answered by the throbbing boom of the gong in the palace tower.
Visitors—strangers from the outside world!
Outside the West Gate of the walled palace city, the buildings and streets were solid with humanity. The crowds overflowed into the open country beyond the town. They waited, for the most part silently, in the good-humored and patient manner of a yellow crowd. The city had emptied itself—every man, woman, and child was here.
When Colonel Chu and his escort were sighted approaching, there welled up a low, murmuring sound that swept into a mighty roar, then was gone again in silence. Slowly, like a wave, the crowd prostrated itself before the man who rode on a mule, beside the gayly uniformed Colonel Chou. A slow breath of wonder and awe went up from every mouth; then silence fell afresh—the silence of veneration and fear.
This was the ruler sent by the gods—no doubt of it! A white man, naked to the waist, about his loins a billowy sarong of imperial yellow silk; upon his white and hairless breast the gorgeously colored figure of an eagle, identical with the figure sculptured above the Hsimen; and suspended by a thong about his neck the white jade fish that was the symbol of royalty.
A proud man was Ardzrouni as he rode through those prostrate ranks. Regal pride flashed in his eye, and his features were alight with lofty vanity satisfied. Aye, trick though he knew it to be, he was proud this day!
He rode to the West Gate beside Colonel Chou, and there halted. In the gateway was the palanquin of the eunuch Liu Ku, and the eunuch was prostrated in the way; but it was not at Liu Ku that Ardzrouni looked. Instead, he lifted his eyes to the sculptured stone above the Hsimen, and stared at it. Then, with a great laugh, he lifted his hand in salute to the stone.
"Hail, Ardzrouni!" he cried in English, his vibrant tones sweeping out like a challenge. "One of your race comes this way again, and salutes you!"
Then he turned to the figure of Liu Ku, who spoke from the dust, in French.
"Does his majesty permit me to rise?"
"It is permitted," responded Ardzrouni in the same tongue, giving his mustache a lordly twist.
He gathered instantly that many of the officers and nobles understood French, and was on his guard.
Liu Ku rose up, grunting as his great bulk came to a normal position, and looked into the face of Ardzrouni. His own fat moon face showed a sleek and sleepy humor, as if under the surface there lay repressed a sardonic grin. When he met the gaze of Ardzrouni, however, a change came into that face of his—those dark and glittering eyes seemed to bite into him like acid.
"Oh, son of heaven!" he said, giving Ardzrouni the august title of royalty. "Will it please you to enter and take possession of this poor place?"
He repeated the words in Chinese. Ardzrouni assented promptly. From the soldiers went up a sudden pealing shout, which the people repeated. Liu Ku ordered royal garments produced, and these were put upon the dark man there in the gateway.
Thus came Ardzrouni to his kingdom, like some hero of legend or romance, stepping naked out of the jungle to a throne. And little did any suspect, least of all Ardzrouni himself, what a welter of blood and treachery and intrigue was to overwhelm that throne of his ere a month was past.
For, even then, Wemyss was fast approaching Ngongfu.