The Chrysanthemum, the Cross, and the Dragon Read online

  The Chrysanthemum,

  the Cross,

  and the Dragon

  by Iver P. Cooper

  Other Titles by

  Eric Flint's Ring of Fire Press

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  Turn Your Radio On

  The Chrysanthemum,

  the Cross,

  and the Dragon

  by Iver P. Cooper

  For my wife and children.

  The Chrysanthemum, the Cross, and the Dragon© 2018 by Iver P. Cooper. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Eric Flint’s Ring of Fire Press handles DRM simply. We trust the honor of our readers.

  Cover Art by Laura Givens

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Iver P. Cooper

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: July 2018

  Eric Flint’s Ring of Fire Press

  ebook ISBN-13 978-1-948818-10-0

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13 978-1-948818-11-7

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Cast of Characters

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Manila

  January 1634

  Juan Cardona was walking down one of the cobbled streets of Parian, the old Chinese quarter of Manila, when he first heard her sing.

  What an exquisite voice, he thought. He stopped, turning his head slowly, first in one direction and then in another, trying to figure out exactly where it was coming from.

  He had no idea what she was singing of course; he didn't speak Chinese. But her voice transcended the barrier of language.

  Making progress wasn't easy, as the streets of the Parian were narrow, crooked, dark and teeming with people. The Parian served as the market for the Spanish in the Intramuros, the Walled City, as well as for the Celestials, and while the Filipinos had their own markets, there were goods and services that could be found only in the Parian.

  He dodged around a cart loaded with fish and brushed past peddlers of shoes, bridles and stirrups, and marble statues of the child Jesus. He ignored the importunities of the shopkeepers, calling him to look at their silks and silverwork, running when he could and walking when he must.

  Juan arrived in a small plaza just as the voice stopped. If only I had run a bit faster, he thought mournfully. Well, I am here, perhaps I am close enough so someone here knows. The first two people he asked either couldn't or wouldn't help him. The third was a young Chinese lad, dressed in loose clothing and wearing a sort of skull cap, sitting in front of a shop.

  "A singing woman, you say?"

  Juan nodded. "Yes."

  "What does she look like?"

  "I have no idea," Juan admitted somewhat sheepishly.

  The lad frowned. "That really isn't helpful. For all you know, she's an old lady who, when she isn't singing, is striking terror in the hearts of her daughters-in-law."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Do you remember what she was singing?"

  "Jang-jung-zuh something or another." Juan gave him a plaintive look. "I know that's not much to go on...."

  "It's not. Where were you when you first heard her?"

  Juan told him the intersection.

  "And the singing seemed to be coming from this direction?"

  "That's right," said Juan.

  "Well then, I will keep my ears open and when I hear her sing it again, I will track her down and send word to you."

  Juan put his hand on his heart. "I would be much obliged."

  "You will indeed, because I will not do it for free."

  After some further negotiation they settled on a price. The lad even agreed that Juan had to pay only if the search was successful.

  "Now, I need to know who you are and how to find you."

  "Of course. I am Lieutenant Juan Cardona of Fort Sandiego."

  "You command one of the companies?"

  "Yes, the third."

  "Ah. The one that guards the Parian gate."

  "That's right."

  Juan thanked him, and started walking back toward the fort. The lad

  disappeared into the shop.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  "Cut-nose, where are you?" the lad demanded.

  A middle-aged Chinese man, dressed in the loose-fitting clothing of a sailor, answered, "Here, mistress." The "lad" was not a lad; indeed, he was the very songstress that Juan had been seeking.

  "I had a visit from a Spanish officer. Talk to our spies among the servants at the fort. I want to know all I can about Lieutenant Juan Cardona. How long has he been at the garrison? What do the other officers and soldiers say about him? Has he been known to take a bribe? Does he keep his promises? What are his prospects for promotion?"

  "It will take time...."

  "I want to know within the week." She paused. "Also ask them whether he is married, and if not, whether he has a girlfriend."

  Cut-nose snickered. "The two are not mutually exclusive. But why do you want to know?"

  "Well, he is handsome, in an exotic sort of way. Blue eyes! Long blond hair caressing his shoulders! Why shouldn't I mix business with pleasure?"

  "I am not sure that your father would approve...."

  "All I am contemplating right now is some harmless flirtation combined with some subtle espionage."

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  A couple of weeks later, Juan received the message that he had been waiting for. At the first opportunity, he returned to the shop on the square.

  "So, what have you found out for me?" Juan asked.

  His informant answered one question with another. "That song you heard. Was it something like this?" The "lad" drew a deep breath, and he sang in her voice.

&nb
sp; "jiāng zhòngzi xī,

  wú yú wŏ lĭ,

  wú zhé wŏ shù qĭ"

  Juan turned red. "I am very sorry to have troubled you," he stammered. "I thought you were—"

  "I am, actually. A maiden, that is."

  Juan took a closer look at the singer. "Why are you dressed in men's clothes?"

  "When my brother died, my father decided that I would be his heir and would learn the family business. I wouldn't be taken seriously if I looked like a woman, would I? So I wear these clothes, keep my hair bound under this cap, and talk like a boy." She made a face. "Unfortunately, I sing like a girl."

  "You sing like an angel," Juan assured her. "Does your father make you use a boy's name, too?"

  "My birth name is Huang Mingyu. 'Huang' is our family, and 'Mingyu' means, 'Bright Jade.' It can be the name of a boy or a girl, so I didn't have to change it."

  "Let me make sure I have your name right." He tried repeating it.

  She laughed. "No, no, not like that. Each syllable must have the right one of the five tones. Or its meaning can change. What is your commandant at the fort like? Is he a strict disciplinarian?"

  He thought for a moment. "I would say so."

  "Well, 'strict' in Chinese is 'Yan-ge'. Third tone, third tone. But if you said it first tone, first tone, it would mean —" she held up two fingers and then made a snipping action with them "that he had been castrated."

  Cardona twitched. "I think that I will speak Chinese as little as possible." He looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised. "So what did your song mean, anyway?"

  "It's a love song," Mingyu explained. "The heroine warns her Chung Tzu not to climb over the household fence, even though she loves him. There's a bit of humor in it, because in the first stanza, she says, 'don't break the willows we have planted,' and then adds, 'not that I mind about the willows.' What she's worried about, she explains, is that if he leaves signs of his passage, her father and mother will realize that she's taken a lover. In the second stanza, she says that she's afraid her brother will find out when Chung Tzu breaks the mulberries, and in the third and last, of what people will say when he breaks a sandalwood tree."

  "So does he climb over the fence anyway?"

  "The song doesn't answer that question. Now, if you could speak Chinese, Captain Cardona, you could compose your own fourth stanza, and have the lovers act as you think best."

  "Lieutenant Cardona, actually."

  "I promoted you to captain, since you liked my singing."

  "How did you get to be so fluent in Spanish?"

  "My father has been taking me on his trading voyages since I was five, and we have been coming to Manila almost as long. I spent several months here each year, while we traded silk and porcelain for your Spanish silver and manufactures. Sometimes longer, if we stayed beyond the changing of the monsoon, or if my father left me behind while he made a run elsewhere. So I have had ample opportunity to learn Spanish. I even got my letters from your priests...."

  "But you aren't a Christian?"

  "If I were baptized, your priests would make me live in the Binondo and not return to China, lest I relapse into paganism. And I am my father's only surviving child...."

  "I understand," said Juan. "But it would be better if you led him to the faith, too. Remember, you wouldn't have to pay license fees to stay year-round, and you'd be exempt from tribute for ten years. And I think there have been cases in which converted ships' captains have been allowed to return to China."

  "I will keep all that in mind. May I trouble you to carry something out of the shop for me?"

  "If you'll sing for me again."

  Manila

  February 12, 1634

  It was day 15 of month 1 of the year Jia-xu, in the 72nd cycle since the emperor Huang Ti had created the calendar of the Middle Kingdom. The final day of the Chinese New Year celebration. The Chinese of Manila, infidel and Christian alike, had come out that night, carrying lanterns. Not ordinary lanterns, but paper lanterns in every possible color and shape. The most common were red spheres, but there were also green dragonflies, golden dragons, and multicolored birds and butterflies.

  Since much of Manila outside the walls was still built of wood, this made the Spanish authorities nervous. Even though it was a Sunday, it was necessary to keep an eye on the festivities. A fire could start by accident, not just through malign intent. The Parian itself had burnt down in 1588, 1597, 1603, and 1629. While some of the new buildings had adobe ground floors, they still had upper floors of wood, with overhanging balconies, and the majority of the constructions were built with the native nipa palm and merely roofed with tiles.

  On this special night, there were hordes of Sangleys upon the streets of the enclosed quarter and thousands more outside. Lieutenant Cardona had volunteered for the festival watch, and his sacrifice of his day off was appreciated by his fellow officers. Of course, he had his own reasons for volunteering.

  Turning his head back and forth, Juan realized that he didn't even know whether the woman he sought would be dressed as a man or as a woman.

  "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack," thought Juan. "Or perhaps, given that she is a Chinese, it would be better to say, looking for a single grain of polished rice in a barrel of the ordinary kind. Or one firefly in a swarm."

  At least, there was no problem seeing faces. Besides the light provided by lanterns themselves, there was the full moon, which had risen perhaps an hour and a half after sunset.

  "What do you think of our festival of lights, Lieutenant?"

  He turned swiftly. It was Mingyu. She was wearing a long black silk jacket over a pleated skirt. The latter was in the "phoenix tail" style: strips of satin, in different colors, embroidered with flowers and birds. She wore a silver hairpin in the shape of some mythological beast, and was carrying a blue lantern, shaped like a shark.

  "It is very exciting. Is there some religious motivation for it?"

  "Oh, pah. Depends on who you ask. The Taoists have one story, the Buddhists another, and the Confucians a third. The story which I like is that the Most Venerable Jade Emperor of the Heavenly Golden Palace issued orders to his civil servants to punish a town by setting it on fire. The paperwork started making its way through the celestial bureaucracy. In the nick of time, the townspeople were warned by an ancestral spirit, who told them to make and light the lanterns. The Jade Emperor saw the lights and thought the town was already burning, so he canceled the order for its destruction."

  "A nice story. But... civil servants? Bureaucracy?"

  "If you ever visit the Middle Kingdom, you will understand."

  "So what do you do during the Lantern Festival? I wasn't in Manila for the last one, I was with the company in Terranate. That's in the Moluccas. The Spice Islands."

  Mingyu shrugged. "Walk around, look at the lanterns, try to figure out the riddles."

  "Riddles?"

  "Didn't you see the words written on the lanterns?"

  "I thought they were just ornamental scribbles."

  "Humph!" She turned her back, and crossed her arms. She waited, trying to watch Juan out of the corner of her eye.

  "I am sorry, Madonna, I meant no offense. May I buy you something to eat?" He gestured toward a street vendor, who jiggled his tray.

  She turned around to face him. "I suppose. I want a Yuanxiao dumpling. No, not that one!" She exchanged a few words in Chinese with the vendor. "The one over there—it has honey, and walnuts, and tangerine peel."

  Juan paid the fellow and handed the sweet to Mingyu.

  "Now you can watch me eat, as punishment," she said. "As I was saying ... there are riddles written on the lantern or on papers attached to them.... If you think you know the answer... (you can ask the lantern owner whether you are right.)" She delicately wiped her lips with a small cloth after she finished the treat. "If you're correct, they give you a little prize."

  Juan glanced at the crowd. "There are a lot of couples walking around—that's unusual."

>   "This is, traditionally, a night on which there is no curfew. Boys watch girls, girls watch boys, matchmakers watch everybody. Of course, here, most of the girls are indios or mestizas."

  "But the Chinese can't marry here unless they convert!" said Juan.

  "Yes, but they can have special friends." Mingyu blushed.

  "What's the riddle on your lantern?" asked Juan abruptly.

  "You have to guess," said Mingyu. "If you're right, I'll give you a small prize." She gave him a sly smile that made his cheeks itch.

  He suddenly hoped that he wasn't blushing. "But I don't know Chinese!"

  She made a face. "That's true. It says, 'Sea, Mother. Brothers, Many. Land, Death.' "

  "You know, I should get three guesses."

  "Why?"

  "Well, back in Spain, when you play a riddle-game, you traditionally get three guesses. And Manila is in the Philippines, which is a colony of Mexico, which is a colony of Spain, so Spanish rules should apply."

  "You should have become a lawyer, not a soldier. But all right."

  "Good. My first guess is... 'shark'!" He pointed at her lantern.

  "Good guess, but wrong."

  "Oh... how about 'fish'?"

  "Still no. One more guess."

  Juan sighed.

  "Don't look so glum. You'll have another chance at my prize next year," she snickered.

  "Wave!"

  Mingyu straightened her shoulders. "Next year, you only get one guess. But for now... bend your knees, please, you're too tall." He bent, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He tried to give her one in return, and she said, "No, no, not so fast. I must get to know you better."

  "My apologies. I couldn't help myself. You are a, um, a Chinese Cleopatra."

  "Who is Cleopatra?"

  He explained.

  "Well, you know the right words to say to a young lady, I'll grant you," said Mingyu. "Since my father isn't around, you will have to ask my closest male relative for permission to court me. If that's what you want to do."

  "Most certainly. Who would that be?"

  "Why, it would be me, during the day, when I am wearing my boy's clothing, of course."

  Chapter 2

  Manila

  March 1634