Murder in Canton: A Judge Dee Mystery Page 21

  Then he thought of the weighty decisions he would have to take in the capital. He knew that the loyal party would approach him with a request to take over the political activities of the dead Censor. But was it not better to wait till the Great Demise before taking such a step? He tried to survey all possible developments, but found it difficult to think coherently. The muted voices of Chiao Tai and Tao Gan, which he could hear vaguely through the door-curtain, made him drowsy. When the murmuring ceased, the judge dozed off.

  It was very quiet in this secluded wing of the palace. Except for the guards at the outer gates, everybody was taking his siesta.

  The bamboo curtain was pushed aside with a faint rustling sound. Mansur stepped noiselessly over the window sill. He wore only a white loincloth, a curved dagger stuck in its folds. Instead of his large turban, he had wound a piece of cloth tightly round his head. His dark, muscular body glistened with perspiration, for he had climbed across the roofs to reach his goal. Standing in front of the window, he waited for a while to regain his breath. He noticed with satisfaction that Judge Dee was fast asleep. His silk underrobe had come apart in front, baring his broad chest.

  Mansur walked up to the couch with the lithe grace of a panther stalking its prey. He laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger, then checked himself as his eye fell on the sword hanging on the wall. It would be nice to report to the Khalif that he had killed the infidel with the dog's own sword.

  He took the sword down and drew it in one quick movement. But he was unfamiliar with Chinese swords. The loose guard clattered on to the stone flags.

  Judge Dee stirred uneasily, then opened his eyes. Mansur uttered an oath. He raised the sword to plant it in Judge Dee's breast, but whirled round as he heard a loud shout behind him. Chiao Tai came rushing in, wearing only his baggy trousers. He sprang at Mansur, but the Arab lunged with the sword and drove it into Chiao Tai's breast. As Chiao Tai staggered backwards, dragging Mansur with him, the judge jumped from the couch and grabbed his dagger from the tea-table. Mansur cast a quick glance at him over his shoulder, uncertain whether to defend himself with the sword, or leave it and fight with his own, more familiar curved dagger. That moment's hesitation sealed his doom. The judge leapt on him and thrust the dagger into his neck with such savage force that the blood spurted high in the air. The judge threw the dead Arab aside, and knelt down by Chiao Tai.

  The razor sharp Rain Dragon had penetrated deeply into Chiao Tai's breast. His face had turned white, his eyes were closed. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  Tao Gan came rushing inside.

  ‘Get the Governor's doctor, and alarm the guards!’ Judge Dee barked.

  He put his arm under Chiao Tai's head. He did not dare to remove the sword. A stream of confused memories passed before his mind's eye: their first meeting in the woods, when he had fought against Chiao Tai with this same sword; the many dangers they had faced shoulder to shoulder; the many times they had saved each other's lives.

  He never knew how long he knelt there, looking at the still face. Suddenly he found many people crowding around him. The Governor's physician examined the wounded man. As he carefully pulled out the sword and staunched the bleeding, Judge Dee asked him hoarsely:

  ‘Can we move him to the couch?’

  The physician nodded. Giving the judge a grave look, he whispered:

  It's only his remarkable vitality that keeps him alive.’

  Together with Tao Gan and the captain of the guard they lifted Chiao Tai up and softly laid him down on Judge Dee's couch. As the judge took the sword, he ordered the captain:

  ‘Tell your men to take this dead Arab away.’

  Chiao Tai opened his eyes. Seeing the sword in Judge Dee's hands, he said with a faint smile:

  ‘It's by that sword we met, and by that sword we part.’

  The judge quickly sheathed it. Laying it on Chiao Tai's tanned, scar-covered breast, he said softly:

  ‘The Rain Dragon shall stay with you, Chiao Tai. I shall never carry a sword stained by the blood of my best friend.’

  With a happy smile Chiao Tai folded his large hands over the sword. He gave Judge Dee a long look. Then a film seemed to spread over his eyes.

  Tao Gan cradled Chiao Tai's head in his left arm. Tears trickled slowly down his long lean face.

  ‘Shall I order the watch to start beating the Dead March, sir?’ the captain of the guard asked in a whisper.

  Judge Dee shook his head.

  ‘No. Let them beat the Triumphant Return. At once!’

  He motioned the physician and the guards to leave them alone. Bending close over the couch, he and Tao Gan looked at their friend's face, very still now. His eyes were closed. After they had been watching him for a long time, they noticed that his cheeks reddened. Soon his face was glowing with fever; perspiration streamed from the dying man's forehead. His breathing came in gasps, and more blood oozed from his distorted mouth.

  ‘Left column…forward!’ Chiao Tai brought out.

  Suddenly the quiet outside was shattered by the heavy rumble of the large leather drums on the watchtowers of the palace. Their rhythm quickened, then came the piercing blast of the long trumpets, announcing the return of the victorious warriors.

  Chiao Tai opened his eyes, now partially glazed. He listened intently, then his bloodstained lips curved in a happy smile.

  ‘The battle is won!’ he suddenly said, very clearly.

  There was a rattling sound in his throat; a long shudder shook his tall frame. The smile became fixed.

  XXV

  Night had fallen when Tao Gan, working with the four agents, wound up the case of the Censor's death. With quiet efficiency he had covered up all evidence of what had really taken place. The Arab dancer's dead body had been secretly taken to the tribunal, then openly brought to the Temple of the Flowery Pagoda to be cremated. Liang's accomplices had been taken away by the military police, without even having been interrogated. They would be disposed of as soon as the convoy arrived in the mountains up river. Tao Gan was dead tired when at last he signed and sealed all the necessary documents, in Judge Dee's name. For the judge had left Canton as soon as he had personally made the arrangements for Chiao Tai's body to be removed to the capital. He had left in a special mounted convoy. A platoon of military police rode in front to clear the road. They carried the red-bordered banner signifying that they were entitled to requisition new horses at every post they passed. It would be a gruelling ride, but it was the quickest way to reach the capital.

  Tao Gan left the tribunal and told the litter bearers to take him to the Liang mansion. The main hall was brilliantly lit by oil lamps and torches. Mr Liang's body was lying in state on a magnificent canopied bier. A steady stream of people was passing in front. They burned incense and paid their last respects to the deceased. A dignified elderly gentleman whom Tao Gan took to be the uncle received the visitors, assisted by the old housekeeper.

  As Tao Gan sourly watched the solemn ceremony, he suddenly found Mr Yau Tai-kai standing by his side.

  ‘A sad, sad day for Canton!’ Mr Yau said. But his melancholy voice was belied by the crafty look on his face. Evidently he was gleefully calculating already which of the dead man's interests he could now take over. ‘I hear that your boss has left,’ Yau resumed. ‘He seemed to suspect me of something, you know, for he questioned me closely, once. But now that he has gone back to the capital without summoning me, that means that I am in the clear, I suppose.’

  Tao Gan gave him a baleful look.

  ‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘I am not allowed to discuss official business with outsiders, really. But since I like you, I'll give you a piece of inside information that might come in useful. When a person is put on to the rack, he shouldn't forget to ask the executioner's assistant to place a wooden gag between his teeth. It happens not infrequently, you see, that people in their agony bite their tongue off. But I wouldn't worry too much, Mr Yau, if I were you! Worrying has never yet saved a
man. Good luck!’

  He turned round and walked off, leaving Mr Yau standing there, a look of stark terror in his bovine eyes.

  Somewhat cheered by this encounter, Tao Gan dismissed his litter and went on to the market place on foot. His back was aching and his feet were sore, but he felt he needed time to sort out his thoughts. The market was teeming with noisy humanity, and the dark back street he entered seemed by contrast even more dismal than before.

  When he had climbed the narrow staircase, he stood still in front of the door for a moment and listened. He faintly heard a soft, whirring sound. His surmise had been right.

  He knocked and stepped inside. The small cages hanging from the eaves were outlined against the evening sky, and in the semi-darkness he vaguely saw the tea-basket on the table.

  ‘It is I,’ he said when she came round from behind the bamboo screen. He took her sleeve and guided her to the bench. They sat down there, side by side.

  ‘I knew I would find you here,’ he resumed. ‘I am travelling back to the capital early tomorrow morning, and I didn't want to leave without saying good-bye. Fate has struck heavily, both at you and at me. You lost your brother and your sister, I my best friend.’ He told her briefly about Chiao Tai's death. Then he asked anxiously, ‘How are you going to get along all alone now?’

  ‘It's very thoughtful of you to remember me, in your great sorrow,’ she said quietly. ‘But don't worry about me. Before leaving the mansion, I had my uncle draw up a document wherein I renounce all my claims to my late brother's possessions. I don't need anything. I have my crickets, and with them I shall get along all right. With them I shan't be lonely.’

  Tao Gan listened for a long while to the whirring sound.

  ‘I carefully kept those two crickets of yours, you know,’ he said at last. ‘The one you sent me and the one I found in your room in the Examination Hall. I too am beginning to appreciate their song. It is peaceful. And I am feeling old and weary, Lan-lee; peace is the only thing I am longing for.

  He cast a quick glance at her still face. Lightly laying his hand on her arm, he resumed diffidently:

  ‘I would be very grateful indeed if you would come to stay with me in the capital some day. With your crickets.’

  She did not draw her arm away.

  ‘If your First Lady does not object,’ she said in her even voice. ‘I shall be glad to think it over.’

  ‘I am all alone. There is no First Lady.’ Then he added softly, ‘But there will be one. Any time you say so.’

  She raised her blind face, listening intently. One sound was now drowning that of the other crickets, a sustained, clear note.

  ‘That's the Golden Bell!’ she said with a contented smile. ‘If you listen well, you'll know that his song means more than peace alone. It means happiness.’

  POSTSCRIPT

  In the seventh century A.D. the two leading world powers were the vast Chinese T'ang Empire in the east, and in the west the Islamic realm of the Arab Khalifs, who had conquered the entire Middle East, North Africa and Southern Europe. Curiously enough, though, these two cultural and military giants barely knew of each other's existence; the points of contact of their spheres of influence were limited to a few scattered trade-centres. In the latter hardy Chinese and Arab sea captains met, but in their respective home-countries their accounts of the marvels they had seen were dismissed as so many sailors’ yarns. Since for this Judge Dee novel I wanted to place the judge in an entirely new milieu, I laid the scene of my story in Canton, the port-city which was one of the focal points of contact between the Chinese and Arab worlds.

  The events related in this novel are entirely fictitious, but they loosely link up with historical fact in so far as the redoubtable Empress Wu was indeed scheming to seize the reins of government at that time. She actually succeeded in doing so a few years later, after she had become Empress Dowager. Then she clashed directly with Judge Dee, and his prevention of her from ousting the legal Heir was the crowning success of his career. For that phase of Judge Dee's life the reader is referred to Lin Yutang's historical novel, Lady Wu, a True Story (London: 1959; Judge Dee's name is there transcribed Di Jenjiay).

  The faked proclamation mentioned in Chapter XIX of the present novel I borrowed from one of the oldest Chinese crime-stories. The said ruse was employed by the Chinese Machiavelli, the semi-legendary statesman Su Chin, in the fourth century B.C., in order to avenge himself on his political enemies who had unsuccessfully tried to murder him. When he was on his deathbed, Su Chin told the King to have his dead body quartered in the market, announcing that he had been a traitor. Then Su Chin's enemies came forward to claim a reward for their previous assassination attempt, and were duly executed (see T'ang-yin-pi-shih, Parallel Cases from under the Pear Tree, a Thirteenth Century Manual of Jurisprudence and Detection, by R. van Gulik, Leyden, 1956).

  The poison used by Zumurrud is described in the Chinese historical work Nan-chao-yeh-shih, in the chapter about the Ti-yangkuei mountain tribe in south-west China (Histoire Particulère du Nan-tchao, French translation by Camille Sainson, Paris, 1904; see p. 172).

  I may again draw attention to the fact that in Judge Dee's time the Chinese did not wear pigtails. That custom was imposed on them after 1644 A.D., when the Manchus had conquered China. The men did their hair up in a top-knot, and they wore caps both inside and outside the house. They did not smoke; tobacco and opium were introduced into China long after Judge Dee's time.

  ROBERT VAN GULIK