“Satisfactory,” she grunted.
She grabbed my right arm and probed the biceps.
“Satisfactory,” she grunted.
She jerked the covers down and squeezed my chest.
“Satisfactory,” she grunted.
She ripped the covers all the way down and prodded my private parts.
“Satisfactory,” she grunted.
Then the creature stepped back and I stared pop-eyed at a leveled finger that resembled a gangrened sausage.
“They call you Lord Lu of Yu,” she growled. “I know Yu well, and there is no Lord Lu. They call your antiquated companion Lord Li of Kao, and the province of Kao does not exist. You are frauds and fortune hunters, and your criminal activities do not interest me in the least.”
She slapped her hands to her hips and glared at me.
“My granddaughter has taken a fancy to you, and I want great-grandchildren,” she snarled. “The wedding will take place as soon as your wounds have healed. You will present me with seven great-grandchildren, and they will be boys. I intend to overthrow the T’ang Dynasty and restore the Sui, and boys are more suitable for the purpose. In the meantime you will not annoy me by showing your silly face any more than is absolutely necessary, and you will not speak unless spoken to. Insolence in my household is punishable by immediate decapitation.”
The monster turned and plodded from the room, and the door slammed viciously behind her. For a moment I lay there paralyzed, and then I jumped from the bed and ran across the floor and started to climb out of the window. The view made me stop. That immense estate boasted no less than seven pleasure gardens, and one of them, in the tradition of great houses, was a pretty, artificial peasant village. I gazed at simple thatched roofs, and crude waterwheels and green fields, and pigs and cows and chickens and water buffaloes. I felt tears well in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks.
My village was praying for a ginseng root.
I made my way back to the bed, and I lay there wrapped in misery and terror.
A Great House
When I had recovered enough to take stock of my surroundings it gradually dawned on me that the monster had decided upon seven great-grandchildren some time ago and that her granddaughter would be ordered to see to it that they were twelve years old at birth. I was lying in the dormitory of the boys who were going to aid in overthrowing the Tang Dynasty, and I will confess that I wept when I considered the life that my poor children were to lead.
Seven small beds were aligned side by side with geometric precision. Seven small desks were placed precisely in front of them, and the writing brushes lay exactly three inches to the right of the ink stones. Nothing in that cold inhuman room was so much as an eyelash out of alignment, and that included the signs on the walls. Some were kung kuo-yo, Tables of Demerits, and I will give an example.
EACH DEMERIT IS TO BE PUNISHED
BY STROKES OF THE BIRCH ROD
Exciting lustful thoughts in oneself 5
Exciting lustful thoughts in oneself 5
Showing one’s nakedness when easing nature at night 2
Lewd dreams 2
If such dreams occasion lewd actions
10
Singing frivolous songs 5
Studying frivolous songs 10
Not yielding the way to a woman 10
If at the same time one looks at the woman
20
If one looks longingly at her
30
If one conceives lewd thoughts about her
40
Insolence to a woman 50
Insolence to the Ancestress 500
If such insolence is recurrent
Decapitation
Other signs were lessons to be memorized, and my frightened eyes jerked from one to another. Now and then in my dreams I find myself in a classroom with fragments of lessons plastered all over it.
The effectiveness of the flame throwers known as meng huo yu may be enhanced by the addition of pulped bananas and coconuts to the oil, which will cause the fiery mixture to stick to the flesh….
The Fire Drug will release deadly gas upon explosion with the addition of five ounces of langtu, two and one half ounces of pitch, one ounce of bamboo fibers, three ounces of arsenic oxide….
An excellent poison can be swiftly produced under field conditions by boiling two baskets oleander leaves, distilling the essence, and adding three ounces of dried aconite tubers. At sea a simple extraction of the sac of the blowfish….
A more subtle approach was employed by Wang Shih-chen, who presented his victims with pornographic novels after smearing the edge of each page with arsenic, and when the victim licked his finger to turn the pages….
Testicle crushers are easily manufactured by….
Severed heads may be preserved for display by….
I slid down and pulled the covers over my head, and I did not emerge until I heard the door open and a familiar voice said, “What a stroke of luck! Your engagement is a godsend—incidentally, how did you like the winsome damsel who recently ruled China?”
I jumped up and embraced him. “Master Li,” I sobbed, “if my fiancée resembles her grandmother in any way, I can never go through with this!” A happy thought suddenly occurred to me. “But if we’re engaged, I won’t even see her until the wedding.”
“Normally that would be the case, but an exception has been made because you’ve already seen almost all of her,” he said. “She was the one in the carriage with the pretty jade pendant between the pretty breasts. Don’t worry about it. All you have to do is to take an occasional stroll with her in the gardens, while I figure out whom we have to kill in order to get the Root of Power.”
“But the Ancestress….” I quavered.
“Has not recognized me,” said Master Li. “Her natural distaste for fortune-hunting criminals has been reinforced by my unfortunate habit of rolling my eyes, drooling saliva, giggling at inopportune moments, and popping my cheek with an unwashed finger. I doubt that she will seek out your company, and all you’ll have to worry about will be your fiancée, her father, and the butler.”
My future father-in-law turned out to be the sweetest and gentlest of men, and as a scholar he bowed only to Li Kao. Ho Wen had earned second place in the chin-shih examinations, and I would have had to enter Hanlin Academy to find two such minds under one roof. The contrast between them was fascinating.
Li Kao would toss an idea into the air and watch it sparkle, and then he would toss a second one, and then he would send handfuls of associated ideas spinning into space, and when they returned to earth they would be neatly linked into a necklace that fit perfectly around the throat of the subject. Ho Wen, on the other hand, was a plodding one-step-at-a-time scholar who never made a mistake, and whose memory was so prodigious that not even Li Kao could match it. I once asked him the name of a distant mountain, and this is the answer that I received.
“The sacred mountains are five in number: Hengshan, Changshan, Huashan, Taishan, and Sungshan, with Taishan leading in rank and Sungshan in the center. Mountains not sacred but very distinguished include Wuyi, Wutang, Tienmu, Tienchu, Tienmuh, Niushi, Omei, Shiunherh, Chichu, Chihua, Kungtung, Chunyu, Yentang, Tientai, Lungmen, Keuiku, Chiuyi, Shiherh, Pakung, Huchiu, Wolung, Niuchu, Paotu, Peiyo, Huangshan, Pichi, Chinshu, Liangfu, Shuanglang, Maku, Tulu, Peiku, Chinshan, Chiaoshan, and Chungnan. Since the mountain to which you refer is none of these—”
“Ho,” I moaned.
“—it might not be too rash to conclude that it is Kuangfu, although I would not like to be quoted in the presence of the Ancestress because the slightest mistake can mean instant decapitation.”
Li Kao immediately grasped the potential of Ho’s memory. He told him to drop our titles when we were alone and address us as Li Kao and Number Ten Ox, and at the first opportunity he turned the subject to ginseng. Ho’s eyes lit up, but before he could begin a discourse that might last several weeks Li Kao asked him if he had ever heard of a Great Root
of Power. Even Ho Wen had to stop and think about that, and then he said, slowly and hesitantly,
“I was four years old, visiting a cousin at the Blessings of Heaven Library in Loyang.” He paused for more thought. “Third basement, fifth row on the left, second rack from the top. Behind Chou-pi Mathematics I found Chang Chi’s Typhoid Fever and Other Diseases, behind which I found the sixteen volumes in fifty-two rolls of Li Shih-chen’s Outline of Herb Medicine, behind which I found a mouse’s nest. I was chasing the mouse at the time. In the nest was a scrap of parchment with a pretty picture that was labeled ‘Great Root of Power,’ but the parchment had been so badly chewed that I could not make out what species the root belonged to.”
He squinted and pursed his lips as he tried to visualize the picture.
“It was a very strange root,” he said. “There were two tiny tendrils that were the Legs of Power, two more that were the Arms of Power, and a fifth tendril that was the Head of Power. The central mass of the root was labeled the Heart of Power, which was labeled ‘The Ultimate.’ Unfortunately the mice had devoured everything else, so I do not know what the word ‘ultimate’ referred to. I very much doubt that the root was ginseng, because I have never heard of ginseng that resembled it.”
His interest in ginseng had a specific origin. One day a grave was being dug in the family cemetery and a shovel had pitched out some fragments of clay tablets. Ho Wen had instantly recognized ideographs of immense antiquity. He had persuaded the workmen to gather every fragment that there was, and then he had settled down to an impossible task. The fragments were almost illegible, but he was determined to decipher the text or die in the attempt. His face was flushed with pride when he took us to his workshop and showed us the tiny clay fragments and the theories of mathematical probability that he had devised to suggest the sequence of characters in the ancient script. He had been working on it for sixteen years and already he had deciphered ten whole sentences, and if he lasted another sixteen years he hoped to have four whole paragraphs.
One thing he was sure of. It was a ginseng folk or fairy tale, and it was one of the oldest known to man.
Ho Wen had no money of his own. In my innocence I assumed that the distinction of his scholar’s rank was worth more than money, but I soon learned otherwise. I suspect that the rich are the same in every country in that money is their sole standard of value, and was Ho Wen referred to as Master Ho? Venerable Scholar Ho? Second-Most-Learned-of-Mortals? Not exactly. He was referred to as Henpecked Ho, and he lived in mortal terror of the Ancestress, his wife, her seven fat sisters, and his daughter. In a great house a poor scholar’s status is just slightly higher than that of the boy who carries away the night soil.
There was no resemblance whatsoever between Henpecked Ho and his daughter. My bride-to-be was a startlingly pretty girl whose name was Fainting Maid. I assumed that the unusual name came from a line of poetry, but I learned better on our first stroll through the gardens when we were chaperoned by Li Kao and her father.
“Hark!” cried Fainting Maid, pausing on the path and pointing dramatically. “A cuckoo!”
Well, I am a country boy.
“Nay, my beloved,” I chuckled. “It is a magpie.”
She stamped a pretty foot. “It is a cuckoo!”
“Precious one, the magpie is imitating a cuckoo,” I said, pointing to the magpie that was imitating a cuckoo.
“It is a cuckoo!”
“Light of my life,” I sighed, “it is a magpie.”
Fainting Maid turned red, turned white, reeled, clutched her heart, and screeched, “Oh, thou hast slain me!” Then she staggered backward, lurched to the left, and gracefully swooned.
“Two feet back, six to the left,” her father sighed.
“Does she ever vary it?” Li Kao asked with scientific interest.
“Not so much as an inch. Precisely two feet back and six feet to the left. And now, dear boy, you are required to kneel and bathe her delicate temples and beg her forgiveness for your intolerable rudeness. My daughter,” said Henpecked Ho, “is never wrong, and I might add that never in her life has she been denied anything that she wanted.”
Is it possible that among my illustrious readers there may be one or two who are contemplating marriage for money? I have a very clear memory of a golden afternoon when the butler was instructing me in the etiquette of a great house, Henpecked Ho’s beloved wife and her seven fat sisters were sipping tea in the Garden of Forty Felicitous Fragrances, Fainting Maid was insulting the intelligence of her ladies-in-waiting in the Gallery of Precious Peacocks, and the Ancestress was chiding a servant who had dropped a cup on the Terrace of Sixty Serenities.
“The cook hands the guest a ladle with an engraved handle and a stand which is placed west of the tripods,” said the butler. “The guest takes the handle of the ladle alongside the stand.”
“Off with his head!” roared the Ancestress.
“Then,” continued the butler, “he faces east, at the west of the tripods, to receive the food that is his due and that is determined by his attire, beginning with the state umbrella that is displayed by his servants.”
“Gabble-gabble-gabble-gabble-gabble!” squawked Henpecked Ho’s wife and her seven fat sisters.
“The umbrella of First and Second Rank officials have yellowish-black gauze covers, red raw silk linings, three tiers, and silver spires, and the umbrellas of the Third and Fourth Rank officials are the same, except that the spires are red.”
“Forgive me, My Lady! Of course The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Needlepoint was written by Confucius!” wailed a lady-in-waiting.
“The umbrellas of the Fifth Rank,” said the butler, “have blue gauze coverings, red raw silk linings, two tiers, and silver spires, and those of the Sixth through Ninth Rank have blue oiled, raw silk coverings, red raw silk linings, one tier, and silver spires.”
“Deposit the corpse in the pigsty!” roared the Ancestress.
Enough.
Dancing Girl
One night Li Kao and I stopped by Henpecked Ho’s workshop and found him in tears, holding a cheap silver comb in his hands while he wailed. When he had recovered enough to speak he asked us to hear his story, because he had no one else with whom to share joys or sorrow. Li Kao made him drink some wine, and then we sat down to listen.
“A few years ago I managed to please the Ancestress in some way,” said Henpecked Ho. “She graciously allowed me to take a concubine, but I had no money of my own. I could not aspire to a lady of quality, or even the maid of a lady of quality, so I chose a dancing girl from Hangchow. Her name was Bright Star, and she was very beautiful and very brave, and I loved her with all my heart. She did not love me, of course, because I am old and ugly and something of a worm, but I never forced myself on her and I think that she was reasonably happy. I gave her this comb as a token of my love. As you can see, it is not a very good comb, but it was all that I could afford, and she wore it in her hair to please me. I had never been in love before, and in my foolishness I thought that my joy would last forever.
“One night the Ancestress entertained some officers from the fort, and among them was a young captain whose family was so distinguished that it was common knowledge that the Ancestress would choose him to wed Fainting Maid. For some reason the name of Bright Star was mentioned, and suddenly the captain was all attention. She was no common dancing girl, he said excitedly. Bright Star had become a living legend in Hangchow through her skill and courage at the Sword Dance, and the young captain, who was a very famous swordsman himself, said that he would give anything to meet such an opponent. Since no distinctions of rank are allowed in the Sword Dance, the Ancestress ordered Bright Star to perform. When she opened an old wicker case and took out two swords I could see that she kept her heart in those glittering blades. She allowed me to oil her body, and I marveled at the pride and happiness in her eyes, and my beautiful dancing girl walked out the door like a queen.
“Sword Dancers wear only loincloths, of course, an
d I could not bear to see Bright Star displayed like a piece of meat for the soldiers to leer at. I did not attend the dance, but I did not have to. The wind drifted down from the mansion and with it came a clash of steel blades that grew louder and louder and faster and faster. I heard cheering, and then I heard the audience roaring at the tops of their lungs. The drums pounded like thunder, and when the sand clock ran out the audience continued to cheer in delight and wonder for nearly ten minutes. The judges refused to declare a winner. Only gods, they said, had the right to choose between gods, and the palm was cut in two and half was given to each contestant.
“That night I lay in my bed and listened to the sobs of a dancing girl. She had fallen in love with the young captain, but what was she to do? Her social status was so low that it would be quite impossible for a gentleman of his rank to take her as a secondary wife, and she would be forced to see him as the husband of my daughter but never could she reach out and touch him. All night long she wept, and in the morning I made my way to the fort and had a long talk with a young captain who had not slept a wink, because whenever he closed his eyes he saw the face of Bright Star. When I returned that evening I clasped a gold chain around the throat of a dancing girl, and on the end of it was a beautiful jade pendant that was the token of the captain’s love.
“Am I not a worm?” said Henpecked Ho. “I had so little pride that I would even play panderer for the woman I loved. All that mattered was her happiness, and I went about it quite methodically. I discovered that there were two brief periods when the corridor between the walls was unguarded. At sunset, when the guards went off duty, the men in the kennels waited for a few minutes to make sure that everyone was out before they released the dogs and at sunrise the guards waited for a few minutes before entering the corridor, to make sure the dogs were safely locked up. There was a small door in the inner wall at the north end of the estate, and I stole the key and gave it to Bright Star. That evening at sunset I gave the signal that the corridor was clear, and the young captain scaled the outer wall and raced across, and Bright Star opened the door. At sunrise he was able to return to the fort in the same way.
The Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox Page 6