The Adventures of Lord Sallyporte

By Scipio42

Chapter 1

Lord Sallyporte invited me to stay at Porte Hall as he had some guests from the United States staying.

The party had stayed at my lord’s apartment’s in London and were arriving at his country seat on the Warwickshire/Oxfordshire border, where his lordship has an extensive stables, and where we would all stay for a few days so that Lord John and the Americans could do some business.

They arrived in one of the new motor carriages, followed by a second with all of their bags and baggage.

“Ah! Boyd!” he greeted me, “Please meet my dear American friends Duncan Barnard and his wife Sarah.”

I greeted them warmly, Barnard was tall with a fine moustache, and a firm handshake. Sarah Barnard was an elegant woman, with fine features. I had, after all, heard all about the San Franciscans in Lord Sallyporte’s story about “The Vile Mr Wopples”, though etiquette prevented me from mentioning it. If Lord Sallyporte talked about it, that would be acceptable, but it was not for me to say so.


That evening at supper we were seated in the small dining room at Porte Hall, it was a fine table, set with crystal and silver and in the centre of the table was a large silver platter with the torso of a statuesque blonde girl from Lord John’s own stables. The blonde’s handsome features stared out at us sightlessly from the side-board.

The meal was superb, it had been prepared by a chef who had been trained in his role partly by Lord John and partly by his companion, the beautiful Shai. The girl had been roasted – not quite whole - in a hunched position, that the Americans told me they called the ‘turkey’. The roast had been dressed with julienned fiery vegetables, radish, peppers and root ginger. The sauce was a sticky mixture of honey and pineapple, which was both sweet and sour at the same time, which Shai told us was also the name of the sauce.

It was quite delicious, and the diners all enjoyed several portions, cutting the cooked flesh into small portions which were then dipped into small ramekins of the dressing sauce.

Once the meal had been cleared and the port was going round, Barnard leaned back and taking a drink asked, “Do you mind me asking, my lord, how Shai came to be your companion? The woman is a veritable treasure.”

“Not all Barnard, not at all.” Lord John suggested we join the ladies in the sitting room. “Much more comfortable place to tell a story.”

Sitting in his favourite chair, with a brandy and the aromatic smoke of cigars forming a light cloud beneath the ceiling, Lord John began.


“I was in China at the invitation of an old school friend. Sun Xi and I were at school together and after school he was required to go home where he would take his place in his father’s war-lord-dom, or whatever they call it.

Sunny knew that I am fascinated by Genghis Khan and part of the territories his father controlled was the scene of some of the great khan’s early life. So I sprang at the chance. Sunny also promised me some interesting experiences.

This all went tits-up – pardon my French ladies - fairly quickly. On my arrival in the territory I found that there had been a coup. With the death of Sun Xi’s father one of his lieutenants seized control, usurping the position of my school friend and imprisoning him. Curiously enough it actually echoed the early life of the young Genghis, or Temujin as he was known at that time.

I soon found myself brought before the new war-lord – disarmed, and my wrists bound, and to be honest I feared for my life. I had no idea where Sunny was, or what was going to happen.

The ‘court’ was held in a beautiful, rambling old Buddhist monastery, low ceilinged rooms with stunning carvings. The chief problem was that instead of monks in orange robes, the old place was full of Chinese bandits armed to the teeth. Some of them were pretty unpleasant looking, and pretty much all of them were an assault on one of the senses in some way or another. As well as bristling with weapons the war-lord’s men, were all wrapped up in deels – the local wrap-around coat - and thick felt boots, hung with swords and bandoliers. But beside them, there were others – men and women, all less fully dressed, often just a thin deel, and all with shaven heads. From their attitudes and postures I could only assume that they were some sort of serf or even a slave.

They sat me down on a low stool, in front of a low dais with a wide seat in the middle of it.

And then he arrived. Ping Xiao Min was his name. A wiry, moustachioed villain with a patch over his right eye. Like his men, he wore a deel but unlike their perfectly serviceable, if rather filthy, cotton coats, the old warlord’s was a rich blue silk with an intricate brocade pattern. Like his men he was also hung about with daggers and pistol belts – and my pair of broom-handled Mausers.

He had with him two or three other bravos – as you Americans would say ‘tough looking hombres’ to a man. He also had another one of the shaven headed types with him, but unlike the others this one was locked into a thick board, so that his head and hands stuck through. It took me a moment before I recognised Sun Xi. I nearly laughed because I was reminded of when we had shaved his head in the second year at school – at least now I understood why he was so upset about it. Fortunately, I kept my face straight and gave no sign of recognising Sunny who did the same. At least I knew that my friend was still alive.

I stood up as the warlord entered, and like the others around me, bowed as he sat down. Pressure from a hand on my shoulder suggested I should sit down.

He rattled something off in Chinese, but as I spoke the language poorly at that time, and now I know that his back-country accent was so appalling, I understood nothing of what he was saying. But that was why Sunny was there.

“Lord Ping,” he explained, “Wishes to know who you are, where you are from and what it is that you are doing in his realm?”

So I told him straight “Tell your master, that I am John the Ninth Lord Sallyporte, I am travelling on the Queen-Empress Victoria’s passport and I am studying the life of the Il Khan, Genghis Khan and the history of the Yuan dynasty. I am also glad to see you able to translate.”

This last sentence was deliberately worded so as to be ambiguous in case anyone of these toothless, squint-eyed, unwashed and villainous rogues could speak English. Sunny bobbed his head as much as he could and repeated what I had said back to Ping.

I must have said something right (I later found out that it was the correct use of the Yuan dynasty. The Chinese hated the fact that the Mongols ruled the empire but weren’t actually Chinese. Kublai Khan got around it by adopting the name Yuan for his dynasty.)

I felt that there was a thawing in the frosty atmosphere. Ping battered me with questions about Genghis, in fact it was rather like having a viva voce at university. He would ask the question and Sunny would translate, I would answer and Sunny would translate the reply.

This went for about an hour, until finally Ping asked how I had become interested in the Great Khan. I didn’t say that it was through a friend of mine at school. That probably would have had us both scuppered. Instead I eulogised about how Temujin had been in captivity with no hope but eventually he had not only conquered Xin but made Europe tremble at the sound of his horses’ hooves.

I laid it on a bit thick but Ping seemed to like it, anyway I found my wrists untied and that I was now drinking tea with the old bandit.

Suddenly two girls appeared, both shaven headed, the first was round-faced and filled her thin deel, with ample curves. The other had the most beautiful eyes, and while baldness can look severe on some women the shape of her skull was such that it actually enhanced her beauty. She was less plump than the first girl but her eyes were more alert.

Both girls kow-towed to Ping who looked at me before directing them to stand in front of me.

“You must choose a girl for the banquet tonight?” Sunny told me.

“To be served? May I examine them?”

After conferring with Ping, Sun Xi told me that I could.

I motioned to the girls and they slowly removed their coats. Neither was dressed beneath them.

The first girl was, as I surmised originally, plump, and quite tender looking. If she had been fattened deliberately, whoever had done it was an expert. There was a fine thickness to each limb and her torso that said ‘roasting’, though I knew from my experiences of Chinese cooking she would probably be sectioned and cooked in a variety of ways.

The other girl was exquisite, she had larger breasts than I would normally expect to see in a Chinese girl, they were not unfitting to her physique, and I have to say she was – standing in a cold, draughty room, being assessed as to whether she was suitable to go in the pot or not – elegant and she had a certain je ne sais quoi, almost like a graceful faun in the forest. I will quite happily admit to being an inveterate cannibal but to eat such a lovely creature would have been a crime.

The first girl looked suitably upset when I indicated that she should be the one for the feast. Two of the other slaves dragged her away, crying and pleading towards what I assumed were the kitchens.

“Would it be possible to ask Lord Ping how the girl will be cooked?” I asked Sunny.

Lord Ping nodded when he was asked. Then explained through my friend exactly what I had expected. “Lord Ping asks why you wish to know?”

“Explain that I was merely curious.”

“Lord Ping wishes to know how such a girl would be prepared in the Queen-Empress’s country?”

“Often we would roast a girl like that.” I drew Ping’s attention to the marbling of flesh that an adequate layer of fat, produces. “Perhaps with her limbs sectioned, but often with the torso cleaned and roasted in a hot oven.”

Ping nodded thoughtfully. “My lord apologises for your earlier treatment, as you are obviously a scholar both of history and the epicurean delights. Unfortunately, our kitchen is not equipped to handle cooking in that manner. However, he does promise you a feast such as you will have never had before, his kitchen will make such a feast that the Gods in Heaven will wish that they had been invited. Until then, he says, would you like to take the other slave and rest for a while.”

“Please advise Lord Ping that I would be honoured to avail myself. Would you ask him if I can borrow your services so I may talk to the girl?”

“I shall ask him.” Sunny said cautiously.

Ping’s response was surprise, “You wish to converse with the slave?”, and after Sunny explained it was what we English did, to our surprise, he agreed. Sunny translated, “Lord Ping says that he had heard that English men had tails and were most peculiar, obviously Lord Sallyporte does not have a tail, but he is prepared to allow for your peculiarities.”

I decided it was time to play to the one-eyed brigand’s ego and gave him an especially low kow-tow in recognition of his graciousness.



Away from Ping’s audience chamber, in a corner room with only one door, I was finally able to converse with my friend Sun Xi.

“My dear chap! I’m so awfully glad to see you!” He greeted me, “But you must get out of here! Ping is as mad as a bag of ferrets. Any minute now he could decide to have you hung out of the window so that the birds can peck at your flesh.”

I looked at him – his skin dirty from abuse and his shaven head, sticking through the rough boards of his yoke. “Sunny old man, not without you. We have to do something to get you out of here.” I told him while looking around the room.

The guards were on the other side of a heavily carved, very solid wooden door.

“Will you please ask this young lady if she can moan?” I asked my friend.

“Why on earth would you want me to moan?”

I stood there dumbfounded as the stunning girl responded to my question in perfectly good English.

“Ah!” Sun Xi coughed. “Lord John, please meet my sister Shai Xi”

I took her hand and kissed her finger tips, “My dear young lady, please forgive my earlier man-handling of you.”

Thankfully Shai accepted my apology but repeated her question.

“Well, you have been ‘given’ to me by the Mighty Ping, the guards might get suspicious if we’re too quiet, so if you can emit an occasional moan of pleasure it might help to prevent any unwelcome attention. You’d better leave your deel off – in case we‘re interrupted”

Sunny’s sister really was something else, as she stood there nude, in front of her brother and a near stranger with a calmness that might have made one think it was something she did every day.

“Do you have a plan Sallyporte?” Sun Xi asked me.

“It all depends on what’s going to happen this evening. I assume that there will be heavy drinking at this feast?”

Sun Xi nodded, “You’ll see the full gamut of human behaviour tonight – gluttony, lust and drunkenness, the lot.”

“Well that opens a lot of possibilities_”

Shai Xi surprised me at that point with a rather loud and sensual moan, before she asked, “How so?”

“Well in terms of drinking – and co-incidentally, lust, gluttony AND debauchery - there are very few places on this earth that can match the House of Lords. I’m quite content that I can handle anything set before me. If this event tonight is anything like a normal night in the Member’s Dining Room, there will come a point when the lesser folk are out of action_”

Shai gave another one of her moans, rather a long low one, a shiver raced up and down my spine.

“And the odds will be more favourable.”

“But what about weapons?” Shai asked, her speaking voice was quite entrancing.

I imagine that there will be plenty of weapons at the banquet, if it was the Lords there generally would be…”

Shai started a series of short, sharp and startlingly erotic mews.

“We shall take advantage of what is there.”

“What if there is nothing to hand, old boy?” Sun Xi asked.

“Well then, there is always Messers Webley and Scott!” Shai and Sunny looked at me, as I reached inside the back of my deel and drew out the ugly shape of the .455 inch brute of a Webley & Scott revolver.

“The guards weren’t terribly good at searching me.”

If I had been listening at the door I would have been totally convinced by the sound that Shai made at that point. However, no sooner had this animalistic moan of lust and sexual ecstasy finished but there was a rattle of bolts and locks.

I quick hid the Webley & Scott but the guards didn’t seem to be interested in me or Sun Xi and they seized Shai and bundled her away.

“Well!” I told Sun Xi, “That can’t be a good thing.”

“No. I think Ping is going to use Shai to torment me at the banquet.”

“We can’t have that happen Sunny.” He looked at me, “I think I am falling in love with your sister, old chap.”

Chapter 2

Shai had been dragged off down the corridor, and the door closed. I turned to Sun Xi and asked if he still had any support at the court.

He thought about it briefly.

“I think a lot of my father’s old guard would back me. Ping is totally hat-stand, old man, everyone is fearful for their lives. He can turn at the drop of a hat. You’ve seen him on a good day. It’s only his bravos that keep him in power.

“I think there may also be support from the locals as well. Ping thinks nothing of seizing a girl for the pot – and not just specially bred girls, but any girl from any family, none are safe.”

This was good news, but obviously it would need to be acted on at the right time. Sunny told me more about the court and in particular Ping’s chief man – a thug called Chao. It was he that had initiated the coup, but it was Ping that had killed Sun Xi and Shai’s father. As Sunny described him I recalled seeing him in the court.

Just then we were interrupted by two more guards who hauled Sun Xi off. My guard glared at me as I watched from the doorway, and I slowly shut the door on him, emphasising that I had shut myself in and not him.

I lay there for a while, playing over in my mind what had happened, and pictures of my friend’s sister kept wandering through my mind. She was attractive no doubt, and areas of her vocal range had a surprisingly erotic effect on certain parts of my anatomy, but for the life of me I couldn’t understand my fascination with her.

I slept for a while.


The sound of the locks being opened and the bolts being drawn woke me, I got myself ready. There was a bucket of water in one corner and I briefly washed my face as the guard waited impatiently.


The banquet had been laid out in the main audience chamber. A long table and various ill-assorted chairs and stools had been set up with the head of the table where Ping Xiao Min normally sat.

At points around the room were six naked young women, Shai among them, - chained to the walls with manacles, their hands above their heads. They watched us nervously as we assembled and began to sit down. I purposely avoided meeting Shai’s gaze, I had to give the impression she was nothing to me, though I did note that of the six she seemed to be the most composed.

There were eighteen settings, including Ping’s at the table, which, I understand, was because six is considered to be an exceptionally lucky number, therefore three times six. At each place there were chopsticks, and plates. And servants scurried about placing items around the table.

A dozen of Ping’s guards also stood around – obviously not good enough to be sat at table. I was sat on the left hand side of where the mighty warlord Ping would sit and already facing me was the brute that Sunny described to me - Chao.

Up to that point in my life I had never met anyone less pleasant that the hulking monster of a man who sat opposite me. With a face like a badly sewn glove, scarred and wrinkled, from various fights in the past, and large broad hands he glared at me with a brooding intensity. I nodded my head slowly. He smiled – and I was reminded of a Nile Crocodile, not only for the coldness of the smile, which didn’t even wrinkle the corners of his mouth, but for the gaps between his spiked teeth. I could smell his fetid breath clear across the table, and every so often he would scratch, so I surmised that he had a veritable pack of ‘lodgers’ on or about his person. He was big too. I stand just a hair over six feet and I am sure I gave him an inch or two. He drank not from one of the small, fine china cups, that made up the place settings, but from what looked like the top part of a skull.

I had a vague plan for dealing with Ping, Chao would need something else.


At this point Ping entered, with Sun Xi as before but now he was accompanied by two pretty, scantily clad young ladies. These were – as was revealed later – his courtesans, Lily, and Lotus. They were not invited to the banquet, that would be more than the propitious number of eighteen guests, instead they were to serve Lord Ping and minister to his wants and needs. Neither of them looked like they had missed a meal, but neither were they fat. In fact, they reminded me of the young lady that had gone to make up the banquet for the evening. (it turned out that that unfortunate had also been a concubine, by the name of Cherry, but she had upset Ping, so she had been sent to the kitchen.)

They simpered and stretched, posed and postured – generally teasing the other male guests, before with due ceremony Lord Ping sat down and the girls were required to attend him.

Ping turned his attention to me immediately, Sunny was positioned between us.

“Lord Ping wished to know how was your time with the slave?”

“Tell your master, I enjoyed it immensely.”

“My lord says, it is strange that although the slave was heard to moan loudly several times by the attendant guards, she showed no sign of your male emissions.”

I thought quickly, “Please advise his lordship that we rarely couple with girls we might eat soon, it is not considered good form in the land of the Queen-Empress.”

“Then by what magic was it she was encouraged to such ecstasies?”

I simply smiled and waggled my long tongue at Lord Ping, “Coupling may be discouraged,” I said, “but tasting isn’t.”

This tickled old Ping greatly but a lustful gaze from Lily, or it might have been Lotus, at my wriggling tongue, earned her a sharp rebuke and a gesture towards the girls chained to the wall. Obviously a reminder as to who the head of the table was, and what the consequences of forgetting were.

“May I ask Lord Ping whether these girls around the room are mere decoration or something more?”

Ping had a huge grin on his face as he told me that there were various entertainments planned, and I would have a major part in them. I was intrigued.

A slave brought a long-necked pot to the table. A second brought 5 black beads - each with a pictogram on - and a similarly marked white one.

“The white one is for the slave you ‘tasted’ this afternoon.”

I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that perhaps Ping wasn’t quite as mad as Sun Xi had implied, however if he was suspicious of me, I surmised that he wasn’t certain. Perhaps he wanted to ‘play’ with me, and with Sun Xi, toying with us before bringing events to a climax. Or perhaps he was, after all, just a murderous fruit-cake.

I was given the large beads and invited to put them into the jug before drawing one out to select the first victim. I guessed that the girls would be tormented through the evening, for our entertainment, I would try and delay Shai’s selection as long as I could, until the drink had flowed sufficiently, and I could put my plan into operation. It was a simple matter to palm Shai’s bead as I placed all the others into the jug, - ah, the wonders of a British Public School education - then select one of the black ones before releasing the white one back in amongst the others.

“Voila!” I said and presented the bead to Lord Ping.

The girl selected was unchained and placed by two guards onto a table. A large bare-chested torturer/executioner type appeared with a few lengths of rope. He bound the girl while the guards held her down. Her left leg was tied so that her leg was bent sharply at the knee, but her ankle was pulled up behind her so that her thigh was vertical rather than horizontal, as I have seen some people so use rope bondage. The other leg was similarly bound but that was horizontal and posed so that it extended out in front of her. Her arms were bound tightly behind her, and the torturer wrapped her torso in several places before looping the ropes up and around her neck. He had in effect made a body harness and a bondage tie. He completed his treatment of the girl with a wooden ball-gag.

After her initial resistance, the girl had lain quietly – softly whimpering, but now as the two guards lifted her up, I could hear her sobbing behind the gag.

The torturer unhooked a block and tackle that were suspended from one of the beams and tied her to it. Once she was suspended I could see that the girl had been shaped so that she looked like she was leaping, or running with an exaggerated gait.

Then four more guards brought a large brazier full of burning coals, and placed it under her.

Initially the girl was too high for much of the heat to reach her but they lowered her down, until she could feel the intense heat of the fire all along the undersides of her legs and across her vagina and bottom. She started a muffled shrieking.

Lord Ping looked at me and smiled. “I thought about what you said about cooking a girl by roasting – perhaps this would be suitable,” he told me through Sun Xi.

I told him that it appeared to be a viable option, but I told him that “In England we don’t commonly torture during a meal, as it tends to stop the diners from enjoying their food.”

“Lord Ping says it is quite common here.” Sun Xi told me through gritted teeth.

At this point the slaves and servants started to bring in the banquet.

Like most Chinese banquets it was made up of numerous dishes, and the idea was to eat from lots of different dishes. To this end several servings of one dish were placed on the tables, so that they would be accessible to each diner up and down the table.

One of the first dishes was a soup. In a spicy long pork stock, they had added chili and ginger and fine slices of braised thigh meat I found out later – there were small soft dumplings in the soup.

It was at this point that rice wine made its first trip to the table.

If I was at my vintners in St James I would perhaps have – generously - described it as ‘vivacious, with an intense echo, that drew the attention of the nostrils, and with them the palate, to hints of distant lands and exotic experiences'. Less charitably, it was a vicious raw wine, that had no discernible body, a vile aroma and a wicked kick as it passed the taste buds. It burned!

Nothing says weakness like that hacking cough and streaming tears as you reach for the flower vase to wash your mouth out. I am pleased to say that I actually managed to smack my lips – as was the local custom - and hold my cup up for more. (Though truth be told, I could only just feel my lips and I did fear for my sight).

However, for all of its ferocity it was less strong than the Marquis of Bute and Argyll’s Quadruple Blended Malt, Special Reserve, which is often used to drag those who have suffered from exposure while out shooting on the Marquis’s Mull of Kintyre estates back from the very gates of Hell itself. If this was the poison of choice for the evening, then my plan was very do-able indeed.

As Mr Conan-Doyle is fond of saying through that detective of his – the game was afoot!


Fortunately, more food was served. Alongside the usual dishes like various noodles and boiled rice. I was particularly taken with small chunks of girl-belly – cubed and marinated in Chinese sauces, soy and so on, then fried off to seal the meat, which was then braised on skewers, before having seeds from the sesame plant sprinkled on it. It was bloody glorious!

The meat girl’s ribs were there, also very nice, cut into small pieces and cooked in the same delicious sauces as the belly pork. As well as thin slivers of girl meat. Dredged in flour and spices and fried in deep hot oil and then served with the sprouts of the bean plant and sliced onions in a highly spiced sweet chili sauce that pretty much countered the effect of the rice wine.

I understand now that the way the Chinese cook is dictated by their history. Whereas we would think nothing of whole roasting a girl, because traditionally their supply of fuel and their kitchens have never been on the same scale as ours, it’s common practice to cut everything up small so that it cooks more quickly – using less fuel.

In the case of the belly–pork, and it was delicious, you’d take a serving of rice or noodles into your bowl, and place some of the meat on top, perhaps with some of the sauce.

I looked up and saw that I was being watched by pretty much everyone around the table, but especially Ping and Chao. Sun Xi told me that were fascinated by the delicate way in which I managed my chopsticks (when in Rome etc).

I smiled at them all, took the remaining beads into my hand (keeping the white one firmly between my fingers and dropped them into the long necked vase.

“Shall we torture another slave then?” I asked.

Chapter 3
Ping rattled out a string of orders as I drew the next bead from the jug. It was a good thing I had left Shai’s bead in with the others, because Chao took the jug and emptied the remaining beads out to check them. Of course, the fact that the white bead was there seemed to ease his suspicions, but he regarded me with a look of pure venom. I took the jug back with the beads and set them at my left hand.

The first girl, whose legs were quite broiled from being roasted over the heat of the big brazier, was taken down, and removed to the kitchen. (Sunny told me the legs would be removed and cooked to supplement the banquet, but the rest of the girl would be wasted. Which is a criminal waste.)

Next more coals were added to the brazier as the second girl was removed from her manacles. As the flames broke out amongst the glowing coals, the girl – plump but very pretty - collapsed. The guards had to carry her bodily over to the brazier where they held her between them.

Next a cover was brought, a great bronze dome that would sit on top of the brazier. There was an embossed pattern of dragons worked into the cover – fine relief work that covered the surface of the bronze.

The cover was placed on the brazier, while a slave inserted a bellows into the brazier and pumped air into the fire.

Next the guards each took a limb of the girl to be tortured, and lifted her between them. She wriggled and struggled, screaming as she did. And being completely honest, the girls’ struggles, and the possibility that she might escape, were far more entertaining than her upcoming torment.

I enjoy the taste of girl-flesh, but I am not a fan of torture. I can see no benefit in it, and the chemicals that infuse the flesh of the victim – in my opinion - do not benefit the flavour of the meat. I may be in the minority, in fact I know that I am, but such torment is not my cup of tea.

The four guards held her firmly and eventually she was in place to be lowered onto the bronze cover. The girl arched her back at the last moment but eventually gravity brought her downwards and into contact with the metal cover.

Her expression when instead of a hot cover she found cold bronze, because the heat had not yet worked its way into the metal was comical, but she quickly realized that what was cool would soon heat up. Despite her efforts – and her piercing screams, her wrists and ankles were soon secured to eyes around the cover and she was left to griddle.

With this interlude over, more dishes were brought to the table. This time, I was told, the meat used was from the girl’s legs. It had been stripped off the bones – and from the look of the number of dishes there was a goodly amount of meat.

Some had been cubed and some had been cut into strips – long and short, most Chinese dishes use small sections of meat – so a meat girl will go a long way. I particularly liked one dish that Sun Xi told me was braised in a black bean sauce and served with egg noodles (not unlike spaghetti, which according to Marco Polo, originated at the Yuan Court). The meat was finely textured, nicely flavoured and the sauce was delicious. There were more dishes, and I made every effort to sample them all, but I may have missed some. I was impressed with the chef in the court kitchen, every effort had been made to vary the tastes, the textures and the flavours of both the meat and the accompanying ingredients.

The meal, I have to say, was excellent, which is a lot more than I can say for the accompanying wine. That went round again, and this time I was prepared for it. Apart from the unpleasant numbness in my lips I found that my sinuses had been cleared quite effectively. Some of the banqueters were guzzling the filthy stuff like it was the finest Veuve-Cliquot, and their behaviour was deteriorating suitably. They had started hurling items of food, and insults at the girl on brazier who seemed to have fainted. Several of them asked me questions via Sun Xi, some of which were thinly veiled insults. Normally I might have responded more forcibly, but I had the long game in my sights and allowed the slights to slide past me. This did very little to inure me to the assembled banditry who were getting more and like the less desirable elements of an Associated Football crowd.

At this point Mr Chao stood up from his chair. Like the others he had been throwing back the wine like it was water, unlike the others he had also consumed large quantities of rice and noodles, both of which would serve to absorb the effects of the prodigious amount of alcohol he had drunk.

“Lord Chao,” Sin Xi announced, “Says that it is time to select another slave for our entertainment.” At which point the vile smelling monster reached forwards and seized the jug from the table by my elbow. He held his palm out flat for the remaining beads.

Bugger! I thought to myself. While I controlled the draw I could protect Shai, and I was certain I could have made it last all night, because while the guests at the banquet were drunk and getting drunker by the minute, they were not quite drunk enough to serve my purpose.

Still as my great-uncle twice removed – The Duke of Wellington – once said, it was “time to cut cards with the Devil”.

With various braziers around the room blazing away, and because it was expedient, I sat with my deel open. I picked up the four remaining beads including Shai’s. As I proffered them to Chao, I absently scratched at my shirt on my right waist. (I was pretty certain that everyone in the room was lousy so no one thought anything about it.

Leaning forwards with my left hand I slid my right hand backwards, until it came to the chequered grips of the Webley & Scott.

Chao took the beads and dropped them into the jug. He rattled it in my face, in spite. He was, as they say a big bugger. And ugly and smelly. He was Ping’s right hand and wielded his authority viciously. My time in the Army had shown that I can look after myself but I doubt I would have been able to meet that brute in combat and prevail. However, as big as he was, and as tough as he was – I defy anyone to ignore a .455 calibre slug from the Webley & Scott when it hits you right between the eyes.

The report was deafening in the confined space of the banqueting hall. All conversation was halted and all eyes swivelled to see me – the pistol poised point blank in front of Chao’s still stunned ugly visage. A .455 calibre hole right on the line of his bushy eye brows. It honestly appeared that Chao actually hadn’t realised he was dead, as he remained standing.

Then slowly like a collapsing building he fell backwards onto his chair and then the floor.

Silence still reigned, as I shouted “Mei ren dong!”, the diners all looked at me.

“You said ‘no one moved’”. Sunny told me.

Close enough I thought. “Tell them, that if nobody moves, and they will not get hurt.”

“I think most of them have figured that out, old chap.” It was true everyone around the table was frozen in place. I moved so that the pistol was pointing at Ping’s head.

Sun Xi was screaming at the concubines who searched the waistband of Ping’s deel franticly before producing a key to unlock the padlock that held his stocks in place.

“The Mausers!” I told Sun Xi, “Get them – they were for you anyway, old man. Happy birthday!”

Freed from the board which confined him, Sun Xi stood up and said something to Ping, who fell to his knees and started to babble away franticly, obviously begging for his life. Even as he did so, his right hand was sliding inside his coat.

I was about to warn Sunny but without any compunction my old school friend shot his tormentor to the floor.

Next he took a sword from the nearest guard – who I noted had presented it without being asked, obviously future officer material. With a couple of hacks the former Warlord Ping’s head went bouncing down the table.

I stepped back behind Sun Xi – sorry, the Warlord Sun Xi, who with much chest thumping and shouting, made sure that the assembled throng understood that he was back. And that he was angry. Four or five of the diners had to be escorted from the chamber but I gathered that the message went home quite swiftly. The slaves chained about the chamber were freed, and the girl cooking on the bronze done was removed. Shai joined her brother and I, nude at first, but she quickly corrected that by removing the robe of one of Ping’s concubines – before dismissing them from the chamber under guard.

Lord Sun stuck the pistols into his belt, and having been treated appallingly by Ping – he’d been starved and denied water, like a good Harrovian reached for the wine. I was about to warn him but he took a good swig of the muck, before he spat it into a brazier, which caused it to flare alarmingly.

I was amused that when he spoke next, he spoke in English, “Fuck me! That’s vile!”

Chapter 4

Later that night the three of us remained in the now empty banqueting hall, sat at the table, picking at the remains of the banquet, and drinking chai tea, which isn’t the blend of my choice but was far superior to the swill that had been served by Ping.

After the events of the evening the mood was subdued, and Lord Sun Xi and Shai talked about what they had gone through after the coup.

Sun Xi had been walking around locked into that board for nearly five months, and both he and Shai had been soundly abused – physically and mentally - many times. The three concubines had been particularly cruel to Shai beating her regularly and often brutally, making veiled threats about her fate and what they planned to do to her when they got the chance. Of course that had not worked out when the concubine Cherry had been caught romancing one of the guards. But the plan was that Lily and Lotus would have carried out their threat at the banquet, taking the place of the torturer when Shai’s bead was drawn. They would, they told her, flay her alive, and present lord Ping with her skin, before they cut her still living body into pieces and cooked it.

I could see that Shai was planning her revenge. I could also see that it would be unpleasant.

“Obviously there are still some that remain loyal to Ping in the palace,” Lord Sun said thoughtfully, “We must be careful, until they can be rooted out.” Just as with his sister I could see a brutal response forming in his eyes.

Eventually we decided it was time to retire. Sun Xi arranged that most of my baggage be returned to me and he and Shai were reinstalled in the warlord’s suites, though Lord Sun moved into his father’s rooms and I into his old suite.

There was ammunition for the Mausers in my bags, still, and I made sure that Sunny received it before he retired. I dug out the cartridges for the Webley & Scott, reloaded the spent shells and placed my big, ugly friend to hand when I eventually climbed into bed.

It was just as well I did,

I don’t know what it was that woke me, but something in the room had changed, I could feel it even as I lay there pretending to sleep. Once again I took hold of the grips of the revolver and waited. Then in the room next to mine, I heard Shai scream. That dashed a few faint hopes of my own but immediately ruled out any possibility that the intruders were friendly. Springing up in the bed I fired.

I hit something immediately as there was a scream, and a crash as something fell to the floor, with a crash. A second something rushed the bed, partly seen in the light of the muzzle flash. The black clad – and extremely smelly (that might have been what woke me) – figure hit me hard and bore me to the bed, but being in contact I was able to use the heavy barrel of the Webley & Scott to beat it into stillness. When the struggling ceased I paused to listen.

No sound.

No sense of movement.

But.

A faint draft.

The Webley & Scott spoke twice, and there was a thump as a third body went still.

I made to leave the room but took time to check the body on the bed. There was no breath, no pulse. I moved to the doorway and carefully opened the door. Two guards lay sprawled on the floor at the door to Sun Xi’s suite which was partly ajar. Even as I went towards it Sun Xi opened it and came out, a straight sword in his hand dripping blood. Together we moved to Shai’s room.

The warlord Sun Xi’s sister stood in the middle of the room, like her brother she had fought with steel, this time a long knife not unlike a carving knife and large heavy bladed cleaver of the type that are ubiquitous in Chinese kitchens. Two attackers lay on the floor, both of them hacked and bloodied. I looked at her – shift torn and one breast exposed, shoulders heaving as she drew breath. I do not know whether there were any warrior queens in Chinese history but Shai certainly looked like one. At that point I realised that I was in love.

I looked at Sun Xi. I have known him since we were starting school, both of us so scared we wet our breeches if one of the bigger boys even looked at us. We had studied together, drank together, whored together and played sports together (Sunny was no great shakes on a rugby field but he was a very useful off-spinner), but I had never seen this man before.

His anger was almost palpable. “Stay here!” He was shaking with rage, “Stay with Shai, keep her safe for me old chap.” I had time to think that given the state of the two on her floor, I wouldn't actually be needed, but before I could say anything, taking his two guards, he left.

We barricaded ourselves in his suite, and waited. The sounds of swords and gunfire ranged throughout the rambling sprawl of the building, for the next few hours.


Pounding on the door woke me as dawn started to light the room. I was sat in a chair next to where Shai slept.

A voice shouted “Sallyporte!” it was Sun Xi.

I could see that the anger was still there but much less than the night before. We went out into the courtyard where a row of severed heads, women’s as well as men’s, sat on a low wall. I noted that neither of the two concubines was there. Even as we watched a young woman – pretty thing, she was - was brought out, hands tied behind her back. She was made to kneel, with her head on a block, then a guard stripped to the waist on a very cold morning, stepped up carrying one those huge executioner’s swords.

I could see that she was trembling as he raised the damned thing above his head. He nearly over-balanced backwards when he got it to the vertical but swung it down onto the block. With a meaty ‘chunk’, her head rolled forwards across the floor to end up at the foot of the wall where the others waited. The blood fountained across the stones of the yard, but even as the flow began to lessen, a small group of the poorest looking folk came forwards and lifted the still warm body before heading off with it.

“You have had a busy night, old chap!” I told him.

“Rather!” He grinned back at me, “But I think that’s the last of the buggers.”

“What will they do with that body?” I asked Sun Xi.

“Some of these families have not had meat all winter, and we seem to have a surplus at the moment.”

“Even the chaps?” I asked in surprise.

“Especially the chaps.” He told me, “It’s a great dishonour for a man to be eaten, and an even greater one to be eaten by peasants. What was the term Professor Franklin used to use?”

“Pour encourage les autres.” I told him, to encourage the others.

“Precisely!” He grinned back at me.

Chapter 5

The rest of that day was spent dispensing often severe justice, however for each case where he was brutal my friend the warlord, was kind, in particular with the lesser people.

Sometimes it would be rice, sometimes actual money, as well as mending the damage that Ping had done he was establishing loyalty. Shai attended part of the day, but she was absent much of the time.

She had gotten access to her own belongings and she was an imposing young lady as she walked around in a pale blue deel, with the knife we found her with stuck into her belt.

When it was time to retire that night Sun Xi offered me the services of a girl as a bed-warmer. However, it did not feel the right thing to do at that point, so although she postured and posed quite enticingly I slept alone.

The next day dawned clear and sunny, cold at first but by mid-morning the sun had cleared the surrounding hills and it was actually warm. I sat and shared breakfast with Sun Xi – Shai was nowhere to be seen.

The new warlord ordered the heavy screen shutters of the court-room opened and we sat at a low table and ate a breakfast of savoury pancakes, a light soup and minced girl pork dim-sum buns., overlooking the courtyard where there had been so much carnage the other day. Sun Xi was in quite a relaxed mood, despite the last few days.

The first thing I noticed as I looked out into the courtyard, was that a number of people had been set to cleaning, scrubbing the bloodied flag stones and sweeping the rest. I looked at Sun Xi.

“I was tired of the squalor, so in return for some cleaning I am distributing some of the food that Ping hoarded. They’re starting on the bath-house later. It’s been out of use since my father was killed. Apparently there are chickens living in it.”

I nodded, Sunny seemed to be adapting to his new role quickly, or perhaps that should be re-adapting.

“Bald suits you, old man.” I commented as I watched three men man-handling a large bronze vessel across the yard, to a fire pit where they set it down. It was huge, easily big enough to take a full-grown man, or two smaller people. “Though it does make you look like a villain from a penny-dreadful.”

He ran his hand across his bare scalp, and grinned, “To be honest old chap, I’m getting used to it. And while my people gave the world a lot of its most sophisticated concepts – such as money, literature, civil service, and gunpowder – I think Ping demonstrated that the ordinary Chinese is still rather partial to being ruled by an iron fist in a silk glove.”

“The trick,” He said as he helped himself to a dim-sum, “I suppose, is to rule with a firm hand but a light touch.

“Between you and me,” he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I do not intend to remain here. There are more opportunities on the coast in cities like Shanghai and Hong Kong, especially as they are growing so fast. It’s a question of shifting resources. But not too quickly.”

I could see that, having regained his position, to be seen to be leaving it would send quite the wrong sort of message.

Down in the courtyard, having set the pot down, the three men started to bring water in large pots slung from yokes. They’d pour the water in and fetch more. At the rate they were working it would take a while.

I looked at Sun Xi, who shook his head. “Nothing to do with me, old man.”

It was very pleasant to sit there, in the morning sunlight, so I fetched the Webley & Scott and gave it a cleaning and oiling. I had cleaned it the day before, after the attempted re-coup, but it seemed like a useful activity. Spreading the parts out on the table, I brushed and ragged the lot. While I was doing that Sun Xi was dealing with a string of visitors, most of whom took time to sit and talk to the warlord. Some went away obviously happy, and some less so. And all the time the three chaps with the yokes kept a steady stream of water flowing to the pot. It wasn’t quick but it was relentless.

An old man started to build a fire beneath the pot, which attracted Sun Xi’s attention.

“That is Feng, the senior cook - the head chef if you like. Now I am curious.”

We did not have to wait that long. It was shortly before noon, when Chef Feng led his helpers out of the kitchen building, with one of Ping’s two concubines imprisoned in one of the board-like yokes. Behind her – looking thoughtful, and obviously supervising, was Shai.

The concubine – Lily, it turned out – kept up a constant stream of pleading and begging, a rapid fire litany which had absolutely no effect, as she was shepherded towards the pot.

Once there, the yoke was removed, leaving the unfortunate Lily standing there in the midday sunshine, stark naked and trembling in fear, Shai moved in.

One of the helpers handed Shai a set of ropes and she began to tie Lily in a complicated bind. Shai went slowly making sure that each turn of the rope was approved by Chef Feng. (The little man appeared to be both a chief cook and bondage specialist, I’m not sure what that said about the cuisine in the palace, but it seemed to work) Lily’s arms were pulled back sharply and bound at the elbows with the forearms parallel behind her rather plump torso. The ropes were passed around her waist and tied, and then down between her nicely meaty thighs, and up and around again. Then they were bound around and between her breasts. Shai took a second rope and wrapped each breast tightly – it wasn’t long before they started to colour under the compressing effect of the bind.

Lastly the first rope was pulled up to make a loop behind Lily’s head and then downwards from her neck towards her ankles. The helpers made the doomed concubine kneel and the ropes were tied off and her ankles were tied together.

Shai inspected the knots very carefully, all the time talking quietly, almost lovingly, to Lily who still muttered her constant pleadings through a steady flow of tears.

Satisfied that the knots were precisely what she wanted Shai looked at Master Feng, who inspected them and nodded, and with a curt command ordered two of his helpers to lift Lily into the cooking pot.

Lily struggled and cried as she was lifted but her shrieks were stilled as she realised that the water was cold, as yet the fire had not been lit. Once she was settled, kneeling in the pot, a helper positioned a stout wooden pole through the loop standing behind Lily’s head resting it on the rim of the pot, so that she could not sink into water.

The unlit firewood was a situation however, that would not, could not last. Taking a burning brand from one of the helpers, Shai lit the fire at several points. Lily’s pleading and crying started again, louder and more frantic. But her cries and pleas went unheeded.

As the flames built beneath the bronze pot Shai called for tea and walked across the courtyard to join us, a grim smile on her face.

“I see you have decided the form of your revenge.” Sun Xi laughed. “Where is the other one?”

“She is secure, and she is wearing the same yoke that you wore broth_ Sorry, my lord!”

Sun Xi waved it away. “As long as it’s not in front of the local people,” he said gently.

Shai bowed, then turned to me, “Lord Sallyporte, please forgive me but I have not yet thanked you for coming to our aid unlooked for.”

I also waved it away – after all, the whole situation had been a bad go, and saving them had been part and parcel of my own salvation. But that did not stop Shai from pressing my two hands to her lips, and then to her bowed forehead, “My life is yours my lord.”

I found this more than a little embarrassing, and most assuredly very un-British. In an attempt to divert the blush which had started at my boots and as making its way up to my face, I asked “What are your plans for your victim?”

“She is to be presented to you both at a banquet the night after tomorrow. This is just the first part of her preparation.” She explained that she was attempting to use a variation on a popular dish from the Peking area, where a whole duck is treated to make a delicious tender dish with a crispy skin.

Lily would be boiled to soften her skin, and extracted from the pot, still alive and then flayed.

Down in the courtyard the temperature of the water had started to rise, Lily’s cries had become more and more urgent, but we sat and drank our tea unconcerned, as Shai went on.

“Once the skin has been removed, and the bitch has experienced what she had promised me, she will be killed and her skin will be prepared, while her flesh is roasted. Normally the duck would not have its skin removed completely, but Feng suggested it would make the treatment of the skin easier. Once the two elements are ready they will be brought back together.”

“That sounds excellent sister.” Sun Xi told her, “And what of the other one?”

“I would be honoured if my Lord Sallyporte would roast her as they do in England for us.”

“You are putting our honoured guest to work, Shai?” Sun Xi asked, laughingly.

“I beg your pardon lord.” She told me, “I merely wanted to offer you the opportunity to celebrate our victory with us. My brother has told me much of your expertise…”

I motioned her to silence, “I would be honoured Shai. We must think of a good way to accomplish this.”

Satisfied with the way that her revenge was going, Shai made her way back to the courtyard to supervise the slow simmer of her tormentor.

Chapter 6

All afternoon Shai and Feng attended the boiling of the former courtesan, Lilly. They poked and prodded at the fire moving wood around so that the heat was never too much, and never too little. Shai told me later that they were aiming to make it as hot as they possibly could and sustain that without allowing Lilly to die.

When they finally took her from the pot, lifting her with the pole through the loop and laying her on a board, her skin was very loose in the way one finds when one has spent too long soaking in the tub. They didn’t untie her or loosen the knots – although Lily was weak she was still alive.

Shai moved around the helpless girl, all the time was talking softly, reassuring her, her hands close to Lily’s skin. In her left hand, concealed from the girl on the table, was the long knife that she had used on her attackers. Eventually Shai reached the head of the table and leaned forwards to whisper in Lily’s ear.

The helpless concubine moaned from the pain caused by scalding hot water. At this point Shai moved down her left side and with Feng watching carefully used the razor-edged knife to cut around Lily’s wrist. Taking the tip of the knife she inserted under the skin and sliced a line up the inside of her victim’s forearm. Once the air reached the exposed tissues where the skin had been peeled back the girl arched her back against her bonds and screeched.

Immediately Shai was back at her head – reassuring and whispering soothing sounds. Lily responded somewhat – her cries died back to the original distressed mutter. Shai looked up and said something to one of her helpers. Soon a girl had brought a cloth and bowl of oil. At Shai’s instruction - nervously at first - she began to wipe Lily’s face. The cool oil, and the soothing crooning words of the girl kept the muttering down to a low level, as Shai worked. I could see though, that she was going into shock from the pain and the removal of her skin. That came off in large pieces, Shai removing skin and ropes as she worked. She sharpened the knife several times on a whet stone, which also served to prolong Lily’s agony.

All the time Feng looked over her shoulders as she worked, and as he watched I heard him make this odd clucking noise – it didn’t seem to change much but sometimes it was approving and sometimes disapproving. Shai understood it, but I couldn’t make hide nor bloody hair of it. Still there was less and less skin showing and more bloodied muscle and tissues visible.

The large pieces of flayed skin were opened out and placed flat on a large salver, by now Lily was completely unbound but all she could do was to lie trembling from the shock as her body shut down.

Shai removed the last piece of skin and placed it on the platter.

Walking around the table Shai leaned in once again, and looking into Lily’s baffled eyes, said “Now who is just so much raw meat?”

Next she took the knife again and pressing deep severed the peeled concubine’s head.


It had been such an event that as Shai, Feng and all of the helpers gathered everything and took it away to the kitchen, I felt that the gathered observers should have perhaps applauded. But it was only part of the process, and according to Sun Xi would take most of the remaining time between now and Shai’s banquet to get ready.

As we rose from where we had sat to watch the flaying, Sun Xi turned to me and said, “She likes you too, you know? In fact my sister, holds you in very high regard.”

Chapter 7

I was quite stunned. Over the years Sun Xi and I had met many eligible young ladies, and when dealing with a certain type of young woman nothing is as attractive as the words ‘Lord Sallyporte’ after your name. But while at first we laughed about their attentions, an amusement that grew to a keener interest, later we explored it whole heartedly.

At that moment back in England there were several women that I knew were actively working to become Lady Sallyporte, so where did that leave me in relation to Shai Xi?

There are many pressures on a young nobleman – dynastic ones not being the least.

Yet I have always sought to make my own way in life.

I began to appreciate Shai – before I knew who she was – for her beauty. She was, to put it mildly, physically attractive – as I had seen on more than one occasion. Next she had a self-confidence and resourcefulness that I have found uncommon in many young ladies. She had fought off two attackers and survived, and she could cook. In fact she appeared to be an expert cook.

Finally, she found me attractive too. I walked off as if I was walking on air.


All of the next day Shai was hither and yon. We saw her rarely, but that was no matter. I was busy exploring the roasting situation.

Old ‘Barking Mad’ Ping was right, there was no way in hell we were going to roast a full femme in the facilities available in the palace kitchens. There wasn’t even a bread oven big enough – the Chinese cooks not making bread the same way we do. Spit roasting seemed to be the only remaining option.

The warlord and I summoned the blacksmiths and explained to them what we needed. They were a matched pair of ox-like men, twin brothers with the muscles of two other men each. It seemed that someone had tried to fit four very big men in the space where two would have been normally. They thoughtfully rubbed their jaws as they considered the requests. Theire movements were identical, and it had all the elements of a comic opera but I took my cue from Sun Xi who watched them seriously.

Finally, one of the two spoke. It was a voice that I imagine a water-buffalo would have spoken with.

Slowly he outlined his idea. The other brother made encouraging sounds, again with the voice of a water-buffalo.

“Hung says,” Sun Xi told me, “That there is a building in the outer wards of the palace, which is in a ruinous state. But he had noticed that there was an iron tie bar in the failing roof, which he had earmarked for useful scrap, that might suffice to make a good spit. They will make supports for it from some old beams.”

“Excellent!” I said, and both Hung and his brother Ho, seeing their lord's and my approval, began slow grins which spread across their solid faces.

Soon we were standing in the doorway of the ruined building, having picked up an entourage of helpers, tool carriers and general on-lookers on the way. Helpers swarmed all over the place and started to hack at the beams that held each end of the tie-bar. Soon Hung was presiding over a veritable circus of assistants, his deep slow voice directing the work. Once the bar was free he unleashed a pair of carpenters who shored up the walls of the shed, with timber replacing the iron of the tie-bar.

Back at the brothers’ smithy, brother Ho was shaping u-shaped brackets, it was certainly coming along nicely.

“What time will you start the cooking old chap?” Sun Xi asked me as we walked back to the court-room.

“I was going to ask you about that. What weight do you think that little Lotus would come in at?”

The war-lord scratched his head, “I imagine she’s about forty-five to fifty jin.”

“Play fair my lord!” I said laughing, “What’s a jin in real money?”

“About two and one-fifth pounds, roughly, depending on who has got his thumb pressing on the scales.”

“So eight hours would do it nicely? One hundred pounds of live weight takes about that – depending. All in all, we need to get that little beauty ready at about ten tomorrow.”

“That, does not sound unreasonable.” Sun Xi, told me, “I will make sure you have all the helpers you need.”

Later that evening Shai came to see me, to discover what kitchen assistance I would need. I talked her through my plans for a gravy, but where I might have liked roasted potatoes and perhaps some Yorkshire puddings, the discrepancies between English and Chinese cuisine forced me to settle for the gravy alone.

“And how are your preparations coming along?” I asked her.

“Very well, Lord Sallyporte. Yesterday we hung the skin up to dry, before brushing it with a sugar and honey solution, the same solution was used to marinate the flesh, which was stripped off the bones. Tomorrow it will be wrapped in the skin to make parcels and roasted in an oven fired with wood from fruit trees, which will add its aromatic qualities to the cooking.”

It sounded delicious, but more than that I found myself just enjoying listening to Shai. Soon however she was off again, about her business.

Chapter 8

The next day I broke fast with the war-lord as we had previously, eating at the opened doors of the court-room.

It made good political sense, Ping had been very private and insular, Sun Xi made sure his people could see him, and it gave the appearance of accessibility. Below us in the yard a group of people had gathered and I could see the hulking figures of the Brothers Ox. Finishing breakfast, we made our way out into the courtyard and straight to the two smiths.

They were eager to show us what they had done with the tie-bar, and they waved two of their smaller minions forwards – who staggered under the weight of the piece.

Originally of wrought iron and about sixteen feet in length they had shortened – by the simple method of heating the section and chiselling a piece off – to twelve feet, with a handle formed at one end of it.

Next they had split the remaining length into sections and then as we had instructed them had forge welded – literally heating the two sections and hammering them till they merged to make a whole piece - the sections onto the main bar at right angles. It was good work, the brothers had made the joins seamless, the spit had been rounded off at the places where it would sit in the holders, so that the meat would not be jolted by the rotary motion.

The supports were solid vertical pillars of wood with arms that stuck out, in a u shape, so that the spit could be raised or lowered to the heat. They even presented Lord Sun Xi with a customised version of the ubiquitous braziers that dotted the place, to go between the supports. They had chopped two together and lowered them in height. All in all, it was a superb piece of work, given the limited time that they had had to work in.

Sun Xi repeated my praise for their work, adding his own as he did. Once again happy smiles wreathed the big faces of the hulking men. With much bobbing and bowing they and their many assistants backed away and left happy in a job well done.



It was at this point that Shai made her appearance. As the one of the blacksmith’s helpers laid a fire and lit it – we wanted an even heat to cook Lotus so they started the fire to burn down, and then we could feed it as and when it was needed, the ‘guest of honour’ brought forth. Other helpers brought tables out into the yard and jars of some of the things I had asked for, two of the supported Lotus.

The yoke, apparently the same one that Sun Xi had borne, was obviously distressing her. To be honest I am not surprised, two-inch thick oak boards and a lot of heavy metal banding, hinges and locks. She was positively wilting under the weight of it. I asked for it to be removed immediately.

I have said previously that I am against the torture or even distressing girls destined to be meat as I believe that the chemicals released into the body by the endocrine system cause the meat to be ill-flavoured and unpleasant. I know that Shai feels the same (even though we had witnessed a day or so before her boiling and skinning alive the other concubine Lilly. All I will say in her defence is that contrary to popular opinion, revenge is a dish that is far better served hot than cold.).

I took Lotus into my arms as she cried and begged. She was a pretty girl, carrying a touch too much weight for my taste to be a concubine, but almost perfect as a meat-girl. Like her associate Cherry who had been the banquet at which I freed Shai and Sun Xi, she had a nice layer of fat, but not too much on her arms and legs. It gave her a ‘soft’ appearance, against the almost rangy appearance of the other local girls. But I suspect that whereas they had had to survive a hard winter on lean rations Lotus had not missed many meals.

I removed her robe, she had delightful coral coloured nipples on smallish breasts, and like many girls of her calling kept her body hair to a minimum. Her hips were wide and her bottom rounded. I took her in my arms and made soothing noises.

I’m not sure what she thought was going to happen, but having been freed from the yoke, and given to the strange Englishman with the long tongue, perhaps she thought things were on the up.

Despite her not knowing any English I whispered gentle phrases to her, as I wrapped her form in my shirt-sleeved arms and gently held her. Her distress abated considerably, she stopped crying and we both stood quietly.

I sliced the concubine’s throat from just under the left ear to the right one, holding her, as her hands went to her throat to try to stem the flow. Soon she passed into unconsciousness and went limp in my arms, the blood had covered the stones of the yard and my shirt sleeves had changed from off-white to red. But without thrashing or panic Lotus was now ready to prepare.

The first thing to do was remove her head, her eyes were still open with a look of surprise in them. Next her hands and feet were removed. I understand that these were to be given to the smiths – the Ox brothers, for their services. They would be used to make spicy Hot and Sour Hand and Foot Soup, which was very popular among the lesser folk. The recipe was, I am told originally imported from the province of Sichuan, where people told me the locals would eat anything that walked, crawled, swam or flew and who could conjure the most marvellous dishes from nothing.

The liver and lights, would go to the kitchen, and the intestines used to make spicy girl-pork boiled sausages. I have to admire the Chinese – their cuisine is most thrifty, almost everything about a girl is used apart from the moans. And once the body cavity had been cleaned the whole carcase was washed out and cleaned all over. After that it was a matter of salting the carcase inside and out. Lastly – and having stropped the knife to razor sharpness, I scored the flanks and thighs of the girl, to produce a criss-cross pattern that would make some nice crackling and a visual delight. Shai had come to watch this and watched this step intently.

Once the carcase was bound to the spit my assistants helped me carry it to the fire. I find it amazing how despite the fact that none of the people about me, bar Shai and the warlord himself (who watched all of this from his viewing point, spoke any English, but cooking was the common language.

Also – despite the fact that a whole spit roast girl was a foreign concept to them they controlled the fire and the cooking beautifully. Throughout the afternoon a helper would gather juices in a long handled pan and baste the turning meat. Others took turns in slowly rotating it, while others sat and shifted pieces of wood so that the femme cooked at a steady pace and did not brown too quickly.

I left them to it, changed my shirt and went to sit on the steps below Sun Xi’s doorway. I could respond then more quickly if I needed to.

Chapter 9

I don’t often do spit-roasts, the kitchen here at Porte Hall has all the facilities but it also has very capable staff, so there is no need for me to  cook, but I should. Working all afternoon on the roast, with the lesser folk of the palace around me – none of them speaking a blessed word of English yet all understanding each other, almost made me forget the brush with death at the hands of Ping and his unwashed bandits a few days earlier. It was all rather pleasant.

In particular one person stands out. A small Chinese woman, probably someone’s grand-mother, who pointed at herself and said quite authoritatively “Yun!”.

She watched me chopping scallions – which are very popular in Chinese cookery, onions, and parsley as part of the side dishes for my quintessential “Enlish” – as she called it – roast. I was aware of how carefully she watched me, and at the end I finished with little flourish and presented her with the board so she could inspect my work and inspect it she did.

I waited almost nervously, before she smiled a gap toothed smile and nodded vigorously. I had passed and after that she acted as a trusted assistant. At one point she took the liver and sliced it into fine slivers before dredging them in flour and frying them lightly with oil from the sesame in one of their dish shaped woks. The dish, designed to act as a small snack to tide us over until the banquet was served, was presented on egg noodles with some scallions and its own juices as sauce and it was quite delicious. I returned the compliment to Yun by smiling broadly and nodding my head vigorously.

Towards the end of the afternoon Lotus’s skin had started turn a golden brown, and the assistants would probably have left it to cook like that. However, I gestured that they should lower the spit down one peg and began to build the fire up. There were some perplexed expressions but as the heat increased the femme’s flesh began to blister and crust. The diamond scoring split and the crackling began to form. I sliced a little of the crispy skin off one thigh and broke it into smaller pieces and passed it out. As Yun and her friends tasted it there were genuine cries of pleasure and looks of agreement as they nodded to each other.

By the end of the roasting process I had enough meat juices and dripping in the long handled pan to start to make a gravy. So adding flour I stirred it until it began to turn brown and then added a little milk - goat rather that cow alas - until it thickened. Because of the size of the palace and the length of time banquets frequently last for, table heaters are quite common, so the gravy was put aside to keep warm. While we got the roast ready.

The assistants placed the roast on the tables and I cut the ropes that bound the femme to the spit. I decided to place her onto her front so that the pattern of scoring and the crisp crackling flesh would not lose its crunchiness. When I was ready to present Lotus at the banquet the gravy would be poured all over her torso. The salver was garnished with the parsley the onion and scallions I had cut earlier. Before I placed the cover on the dish, I looked at Yun to see what she thought. She was most approving and nodded vigorously.

That evening was warm so I sat with Sun Xi and Shai in my shirt-sleeves. The war-lord was dressed in a red silk shirt, cut a little like a deel but much, much lighter. Shai wore traditional style of Chinese dress in a rich blue, decorated with birds. For all that we three were a little understated, the other fifteen diners – the number six three times again, had made every effort. That evening was the exact opposite of the event which had taken place four nights previously. The diners were all clean for a start, scrubbed and polished and the quality of the outfits worn was definitely an improvement on the previous regime. Plus, the diners were mixed men and women, I think that the new warlord had been careful to make sure that the invitation was to couples, rather than cronies.

Once again I was asked questions by the other diners but now instead of the veiled insults and challenges there were many questions about England – had I ever met the Queen-Empress? Yes, I told them, I had when she was younger and I told them what a devastatingly pretty woman she was, before she settled down with Albert. Did the queen eat woman flesh? Yes, she did, I said, and daughters of the finest households in the country volunteered to be served at her suppers. In fact the queen-empress ate so well it had gone straight to her hips. What sort of clothes did English women wear? I tried, God knows I tried to explain whalebone corsets and under-gowns, chambres de nuit and whatever and I am sure that they didn’t believe me, but I was saved further quizzing by the arrival of the actual courses of the banquet.

Servants paraded through the room distributing food about the table. Bowl after bowl of rice and noodles, bean sprouts, sauces, small delicate pancakes, platters with parcels of crispy Peking Concubine (as Shai named it later). There were other meats from other girls, including the belly pork and sesame that I enjoyed at the first banquet. Eventually four servants staggered in carrying a huge, covered salver – though why they bothered I don’t know – everybody in the palace KNEW there was a whole roasted femme under there.

The made up and dressed heads of Lily and Lotus was placed on a side table – their hair had been arranged and they had been made up and the person who had done it had made it as if they were actually ready to open their eyes. Apparently this is somewhat of an art form in China and very popular.

The covers came off the dishes and there was a gasp of polite surprise at the cooked femme, which was followed by a polite round of applause as I dressed the meat with the gravy, which even though I say it myself, hadn’t turned out too badly.

Everyone set too with a will. For a long while there was nothing but the clicking of chopsticks and the sound of people enjoying a fine meal. Even the wine was decent this time.

But despite the quality of the roast for me the high point of the meal were the little parcels of Crispy Concubine. Each parcel contained a portion of meat about the size of a hand. It was wrapped and then tied like a parcel with a twist of grass. Taking it into my plate I undid the parcel and sampled the skin.

Dear God in his heaven and all the little angels! The skin was so crisp and tasty! I could have eaten that all night. But Sun Xi showed me how take a small pancake, uniformly thin and almost transparent, take some of the dark roasted flesh, with its rich seasoning, place it on the pancake along with scallions and a delicious sauce of soya beans, chili, rice wine vinegar, soy sauce and starch. Called hoisin sauce, I do believe that my mouth felt like it had died and been conveyed to paradise.

There were also many good words said about the spit roast and as with the lesser folks the crackling went down very well.

Soon all that was left of Lily was a few crumbs of crispy skin and some morsels of flesh, while Lotus was reduced to a mere skeleton. More than a few waistbands were loosened as people sat back in their chairs and chatted amiably. I longed for a glass of port such as we would have at home, but there was no local equivalent.

Sun Xi leaned in towards me, “Sallyporte my dear chap, I have a favour to ask you.”

“If it is in my power to assist my lord.”

“Saying it aloud sounds a little strange, but would you take my sister?”

“’Take’ old chap?!” His request came as a bit of a surprise, “How d’you mean?”

“I have much to do here, I doubt I will ever be in a position like my father of being truly in control. It would please me, and I believe it would please Shai, if when you leave for England, or wherever you go, you take her with you.”

I looked at Shai across the table, “And do you feel like this Shai?”

“As I said yesterday my lord, I owe you my life, if I can serve you in anyway, I shall.”

“Think on it tonight old chap.” Sun Xi told me, “There’s no rush.”


I did think on it that night, and the next day – over breakfast - I gave Sun Xi my answer. When I left, if she would consent, I would take Shai with me as my travelling companion. I was open with her and Sun Xi. I did not know how the future would play out, but I would keep her safe until - well until what ever happened.

And so after two more weeks and several culinary adventures I rode with Shai at my side to the nearest railhead – about a week’s ride from Sun Xi’s monastery palace. From there via the sub-continent, and the Suez Canal, we came home to London and eventually here to Porte Hall. I fought two duels over my dear companion, had a run in with deadly pygmy cannibals in Stevenage, of all places and both of us have learned so much together.

We have travelled the world several times, and met lots of wonderful people, eaten a few of them, and had a most excellent time. And the last we had heard Sun Xi had given up his dreams of moving to the coast and he was busy raising sons to be his heirs.

I have asked Shai to marry me several times, but she refuses to, and gives me no reason.

Still of all of the women I have ever met there is none that can compare with my dear Shai.

Here endeth the tale of Lord Sallyporte and how he met the Lady Shai, I thank yew!