Page 133 of Babel

‘Oh, there, there.’ Cathy patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’re safe, Robin. You’re with friends.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said miserably.

‘It’s all right.’ Cathy did not ask him what he was apologizing for. ‘You’re here now. That’s what matters.’

Three sudden, violent raps sounded at the door. Robin flinched, dropping his fork, but none of the postgraduates looked alarmed.

‘That’ll be Griffin,’ Anthony said cheerfully. ‘He forgets the passcodes whenever we change them, so he beats out a rhythm instead.’

‘He’s come too late for dinner,’ Cathy said, annoyed.

‘Well, make him up a plate.’

‘Please.’

‘Please, Cathy.’ Anthony stood up. ‘The rest of you, into the Reading Room.’

Robin’s heart hammered as he filed out of the dining room with the others. He suddenly felt very nervous. He didn’t want to see his brother. The world had turned upside down since they’d last spoken, and he was terrified of what Griffin had to say about it.

Griffin strode through the door looking lean, haggard, and as travel-weary as ever. Robin scrutinized his brother as he shrugged off his ratty black coat. He seemed like an utter stranger, now that Robin knew what he had done. Each of his features told a new story; those lean, capable hands; those sharp, darting eyes – were those the traits of a murderer? How had he felt when he threw a silver bar at Evie Brooke, knowing full well it would rip her chest apart? Had he laughed when she died, the way he did upon seeing Robin now?

‘Hello, brother.’ Griffin smiled his wolf’s smile and reached out to clasp Robin’s hand. ‘I heard you killed dear old Pa.’

It was an accident, Robin wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. They had never rung true before; he could not bring himself to speak them now.

‘Well done,’ said Griffin. ‘I never thought you had it in you.’

Robin had no response. He found it hard to breathe. He had the strangest urge to sock Griffin in the face.

Griffin, indifferent, gestured towards the Reading Room. ‘Shall we get to work?’

‘The task, as we see it, is to convince Parliament and the British public that it would be against their best interests to take Britain to war against China,’ said Anthony.

‘The opium-burning disaster has brought everything to a head,’ said Griffin. ‘Commissioner Lin has issued a proclamation banning English trade from Canton entirely. Jardine & Matheson, meanwhile, have taken those hostilities as justification for war. They’re saying England must act now to defend her honour, or face humiliation in the East forever. Nice way to ruffle some nationalist feathers. The House of Lords began debating a military expedition last week.’

But a vote had not yet come to pass. The lords of Parliament were still hesitant, uncertain about throwing the country’s resources at such a distant and unprecedented endeavour. The issue at hand, however, was silver. Defeating China would give the British Empire access to the greatest reserve of silver in the world, silver that would make their warships sail faster, their guns shoot further and more precisely. If Parliament did choose war, the future of the colonized world was unimaginable. Britain, flush with China’s riches, could enact any number of agendas towards Africa, Asia, and South America that until now had remained pipe dreams.

‘But we can’t do anything about those plots right now,’ said Griffin. ‘And we can’t think on the scale of a global revolution, because it’s impossible. We don’t have the numbers. What we must focus on now, before we can turn to anything else, is stopping the invasion of Canton. If England wins – for she absolutely will win, there’s no question – she obtains a near infinite supply of silver for the foreseeable future. If she doesn’t, her silver supply dries up, and her imperial capacities shrink considerably. That’s it. Everything else is inconsequential.’

He rapped the blackboard, on which names of various lords were sorted into different columns. ‘The House of Commons hasn’t voted yet. It’s still an open debate. There’s a strong antiwar faction, headed by Sir James Graham, Viscount Mahon, and William Gladstone. And Gladstone’s a very good man to have on our side – he hates opium more than anyone; he’s got a sister who’s addicted to laudanum, I think.’

‘But there are internal politics at play too,’ Cathy explained. ‘The Melbourne ministry’s facing a political crisis at home. The Whigs have just barely survived a vote of no confidence, so now they’re walking an impossible tightrope between the Conservatives and Radicals, exacerbated by the fact that they’ve been weak in foreign trade in Mexico, Argentina, and Arabia—’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ramy. ‘What, now?’

Cathy waved her hand impatiently. ‘The bottom line is, the Radicals and their northern constituencies need a healthy overseas trade, and the Whigs need to keep their support to counterbalance the Tories. A show of force regarding the Opium Crisis is precisely the way to do that. It’ll be a tight vote either way, though.’

Anthony nodded at the board. ‘Our mission now, then, is to swing enough votes that the war proposal’s shot down.’

‘Just to be clear,’ Ramy said slowly, ‘your plan right now is to become lobbyists?’

‘Indeed,’ said Anthony. ‘We’ll have to convince them that war is against the best interests of their constituents. Now, that’s a tricky argument to make, because it affects different classes differently. Obviously, siphoning all the silver out of China will be a massive boon to anyone who’s already got money. But there’s also an existing movement that believes that increased silver use is the worst thing that could happen to labourers. A silver-enhanced loom puts a dozen weavers out of work; that’s why they’re always striking. That’s a decent argument for a Radical to vote no.’

‘So you’re just targeting the House of Lords?’ asked Robin. ‘Not the general public?’

‘Good question,’ said Anthony. ‘The lords are the decision-makers, yes, but a certain amount of pressure from the press and public can sway those still on the fence. The trick is how to get the average Londoner worked up over a war they’re not likely to have ever heard of.’

‘Appeal to their human nature and sympathy for the oppressed,’ said Letty.