Poets And Murder

by Robert Van Gulik

  Half a dozen maids were rushing around in the elegant landscaped garden in front of the main hall, hanging coloured lampions among the flowering shrubs, and two boy servants were putting up a bamboo scaffolding for fireworks on the other side of the lotus pond. Looking up at the balcony of the second floor, the judge saw Magistrate Lo standing by the red-lacquered balustrade, talking with his counsellor. Lo wore an elegant wide robe of blue brocade, and a high winged cap of black gauze. Glad that the dinner had not yet begun, Judge Dee hastily ascended the broad staircase of polished wood.

  When the small magistrate saw him coming along the balcony, he exclaimed, aghast:

  ‘My dear fellow! Why haven’t you changed yet? The guests’ll be here any moment!’

  ‘I have an urgent message for you, Lo. Personally.’

  ‘Go and see whether the housemaster is managing all right in the banquet hall, Kao!’ When his counsellor had gone inside, Lo asked rather curtly, ‘Well, what is it?’

  Leaning against the balustrade, Judge Dee told his colleague how the clue of the ‘Black Fox Lay’ had taken him to the deserted shrine, and the gist of his conversation there. When he had finished, the magistrate exclaimed, beaming at him:

  ‘Magnificent, elder brother, magnificent! This means that we are half-way to the solution of our murder case, for we now know the motive! Soong came here to trace his father’s murderer, but that chap got wind that the student was on his track, and he killed the poor fellow. It was Soong’s notes concerning that old murder of eighteen years ago that the scoundrel searched for in the student’s lodging. And found, too!’ As Judge Dee nodded, Lo resumed, ‘Soong consulted my archives for details of his father’s case. We must now go over all dossiers of the Year of the Dog, and look for an unsolved murder, disappearance, kidnapping or what have you, involving a family of the surname Soong.’

  ‘Any such case,’ the judge corrected him. ‘Since the student wanted his investigation to be a secret, Soong may be an assumed name. He planned to reveal his identity and file an official accusation as soon as he had found his man and collected proof of his crime. Well, the man murdered Soong, but now he has us on his heels!’ Tugging at his moustache, he resumed, ‘Another man I’d like to meet is Saffron’s father. It’s a shame that the heartless scoundrel lets his illegitimate child live in those filthy surroundings! And she’s ill too. We must check with the dancer, Lo. She may have recognized Saffron’s father, and if not she can give us at least a description of him, for she saw him when he was leaving the ruin, with the scarf removed from his face. After we have located the fellow, we’ll make him confess what woman he seduced, and see what we can do for the poor girl. Has Small Phoenix arrived yet?’

  ‘Oh yes, she’s in the improvised green-room, behind the banquet hall. Yoo-lan is with her, helping her with her makeup and so forth. Let’s get her here. The other two dancers are also in the green-room, and we want to talk to the wench alone.’ He looked over the balustrade. ‘Holy heaven, the Academician and Chang are here! I must rush down to welcome them. You’d better hurry down the small staircase over there, Dee, and change as quickly as you can!’

  Judge Dee went down the narrow staircase at the end of the balcony, and walked quickly to his own quarters.

  While donning a dark blue robe with a subdued flower pattern, he reflected it was a pity that his imminent departure would prevent him from witnessing further developments in this intriguing murder case. After they had ascertained the identity of the student’s father, murdered eighteen years ago, Lo would have to probe into the circumstances of his death, thoroughly investigating all persons who had had contact with him and who were still living in Chin-hwa. That would take many days, if not weeks. He, the judge, would personally see to it that Saffron was removed to suitable quarters. Then, after she had received medical attention, Lo should make her talk about her conversations with the murdered student. He wondered why the student had sought out Saffron. Only because of his interest in unusual music? That seemed most improbable. Soong did seem to have fallen in love with her, though. Meng’s maid had mentioned Soong’s preference for love songs, and the silver hair-needles he consulted the maid about now turned out to have been intended for Saffron. There were all kinds of interesting possibilities. He adjusted his winged velvet cap in front of the mirror on the dressing-table, then hurried back to the main courtyard.

  He saw the shimmer of brocade robes on the brilliantly lit balcony. Apparently the guests were admiring the illuminated garden before dinner. This saved the judge from the embarrassment of entering the banquet hall when the high guests were already in their seats.

  On the balcony, Judge Dee first made his bow to the Academician, resplendent in a flowing robe of gold brocade, and wearing the high square cap of the Academy, with two long black ribbons that hung down his broad back. Sexton Loo had put on a wine-red gown with broad black borders which lent him a certain dignity. The Court Poet had chosen a brown silk robe embroidered with a golden flower pattern, and a high cap with golden rims. Chang had indeed brightened up now; he was in animated conversation with Magistrate Lo.

  ‘Don’t you agree, Dee,’ Lo asked briskly, ‘that expressive force is one of the most striking features of our honoured friend’s poetry?’

  Chang Lan-po quickly shook his head.

  ‘Let’s not waste our precious time together on empty compliments, Lo. Ever since I asked to be relieved of my duties at Court, I have devoted most of my time to editing my poems of the past thirty years, and expressive force is exactly what my poetry lacks!’ Lo wanted to protest, but the poet raised his hand. ‘I shall tell you the reason. I’ve always led a placid, sheltered life. My wife is, as you may know, also a poet, and we have no children. We live in an attractive country house just outside the capital, I tending my goldfish and my tray-landscapes, my wife looking after our flower garden. Occasionally friends from the city drop in for a simple dinner, and we talk and write till far into the night. I always thought I was happy, until recently, when I suddenly came to realize that my poetry only mirrors an imaginary world, built up in my mind. Since my poems lack the direct link with real life, they have always been bloodless, devoid of life. And now, after my visit to my ancestral shrine, I keep asking myself whether a few volumes of lifeless poems are sufficient justification for my fifty years’ existence.’

  ‘What you call your imaginary world, sir,’ Lo said earnestly, ‘is in fact more real than so-called real life. Our everyday, outer world is transitory; you grasp the permanent essentials of inner life.’

  ‘Thanks for your kind words, Lo. Yet I feel that if once I could experience a shattering emotion, even a tragedy, something that entirely upset my placid existence, I would …’

  ‘You’re completely wrong, Chang!’ the booming voice of the Academician interrupted. ‘Come here, Sexton, I want your opinion too! Listen, Chang, I am getting on for sixty, am nearly ten years your senior. For forty years I have been a man of action, served in nearly every important branch of government, raised a large family, had all the shattering emotions a man can experience in public and private life! And let me tell you that only after my retirement last year, now that I am leisurely visiting all by myself the places I used to like, only now am I beginning to see through outer appearances, and to realize that the more permanent values lie outside our worldly life. You, on the contrary, could afford to skip that preliminary phase of action, Chang. You, my friend, have seen the Way of Heaven, without even looking out of your window!’

  ‘So you quote Taoist texts!’ the sexton remarked. “The founder of Taoism was a garrulous old fool. He stated that silence is better than speech, then dictated a book of five thousand words!’

  ‘I don’t agree at all,’ the Court Poet protested. ‘The Buddha… .’

  ‘The Buddha was a mangy beggar, and Confucius a meddling pedant,’ the sexton snapped.

  Judge Dee, shocked by the last statement, looked to the Academician for a fiery protest. But Shao just smiled and asked
:

  ‘If you despise all our three religions, Sexton, then where do you belong?’

  ‘To nothingness,’ the obese monk replied promptly.

  ‘Oho! That’s not true. You belong to calligraphy!’ the Academician shouted. ‘Tell you what we’ll do, Lo! After dinner we’ll have that enormous silk screen in your banquet hall down on the floor, and old Loo shall write one of his couplets on it. With a broom, or whatever he uses!’

  ‘Excellent!’ Lo exclaimed. ‘The screen’ll be treasured for generations to come!’

  Now Judge Dee remembered having seen sometimes on the outer walls of temples and other monuments magnificent inscriptions in letters of more than six feet high, and signed ‘Old Man Loo’. He looked at the ugly fat man with new respect.

  ‘How do you manage to write those colossal inscriptions, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘I stand on a scaffolding wielding a brush five feet long. And when I inscribe screens, I do so while walking over a ladder laid across them. Better tell your servants to prepare a bucket of ink, Lo!’

  ‘Who needs a bucket of ink?’ the melodious voice of the poetess spoke up. Now that her face had been carefully made up, she was indeed a radiant beauty. And her olive-green gown was so cut as to disguise her somewhat portly figure. The judge watched the effortless ease with which she joined the general conversation, achieving just the right tone with the Academician and Chang: the familiarity of a colleague in letters, but with an undertone of deference. Only a long career as a courtesan could give a woman that ease in associating on equal terms with men not belonging to the family.

  The old housemaster pushed the sliding-doors open, and Lo invited his guests to enter the banquet hall. Four thick, red-lacquered pillars supported the gaudily painted rafters, each pillar bearing an auspicious inscription in large golden characters. The one on the right read ‘All the people enjoy together years of universal peace’, the other giving the corresponding line, ‘Fortunate in being ruled by a saintly and wise Sovereign’. The arched door-openings on either side had frames of intricately carved woodwork. The arch on the left gave access to a side-hall where the servants were warming the wine. In the side-hall opposite sat the orchestra of six musicians, two flautists, two violinists, one girl playing the mouth organ, and another sitting behind the large zither. While the orchestra struck up the gay melody ‘Welcoming the High Guests’, the small magistrate led the Academician and Chang ceremoniously to the seats of honour at the table directly in front of the enormous, three-panelled screen of white silk set against the back wall. Both protested that they were undeserving of that honour, but let themselves be persuaded by Lo. He invited Judge Dee to sit at the table on the left, so that he was Chang’s neighbour, and then conducted the sexton to the upper place at the table on the right. After he had asked the poetess to be seated at Judge Dee’s right hand, he himself sat down in the lowest place, next to Sexton Loo. Each table was covered by a piece of costly red brocade, with gold-embroidered borders; the plates and bowls were of choice coloured porcelain, the wine cups of pure gold, and chopsticks of silver. The platters were heaped with seasoned meat and fish, slices of pressed ham, preserved ducks’ eggs, and countless other cold delicacies. And although the hall was lit by the high floor lamps along the walls, there stood on each of the three tables two tall red candles in holders of wrought silver. After the maids had served the wine, Magistrate Lo raised his cup and drank to the health and good fortune of all present. Then they took up their chopsticks.

  The Academician at once began to exchange news with Chang about mutual acquaintances in the capital. Thus the judge was free to address the poetess. He inquired politely when she had arrived in Chin-hwa. It turned out that she had arrived two days before with the armed escort, consisting of a sergeant and two soldiers, and had taken a room in a small inn behind the Sapphire Bower. She added, without a trace of embarrassment, that the old lady in charge had worked in the same famous brothel in the capital she herself had belonged to, and that she had looked her up to talk about the old days. ‘I met Small Phoenix in the Sapphire Bower,’ she added. ‘A superb dancer, and a very bright girl.’

  ‘She seemed a bit over-ambitious to me,’ Judge Dee remarked.

  ‘You men never understand women,’ the poetess said dryly. ‘Which is probably very fortunate-for us!’ She cast an annoyed look at the Academician who had set out on an elaborate speech.

  ‘Thus I am certain I speak for all of you when I tender our profound thanks to Magistrate Lo, gifted poet, excellent administrator, and a perfect host! We thank him for gathering here, on the eve of the auspicious Moon Festival, this small group of old friends, congenial spirits, united in perfect harmony at this festive dish!’ Turning his flashing eyes to the poetess, he said, ‘Yoo-lan, you’ll compose for us an ode in praise of the occasion! The theme is “The Happy Reunion”.’

  The poetess took up her wine cup and turned it round in her hand for a few moments. Then she recited in her rich, ringing voice:

  The amber wine is warm in the golden cups,

  Roast and venison are fragrant

  In the silver dishes

  And the red candles bum high.

  As she paused, Magistrate Lo nodded with a pleased smile. But the judge noticed that the sexton was watching the poetess with an uneasy glint in his bulging eyes. Then she recited the parallel couplet:

  THE BANQUET IN THE RESIDENCE

  But the wine is the sweat and blood of the poor,

  Roast and venison their flesh and bones,

  And the red candles

  Drip with their tears of despair.

  There was a shocked silence. The Court Poet had grown red in the face. Giving the poetess an angry look, he said, mastering his voice with difficulty:

  ‘You refer to conditions that obtain only temporarily, Yoo-lan. And in regions struck by floods or droughts.’

  ‘They obtain always and everywhere. And you know it!’ she told him curtly.

  Magistrate Lo quickly clapped his hands. The musicians began a gay, fetching melody, and two dancing-girls came drifting in. Both were very young. One wore a long, flowing dress of transparent white gauze, the other an azure-blue robe. After they had dropped a low curtsey in front of the main table, they lifted their arms above their heads and began to turn slowly, the ends of their long sleeves whirling around them in wide circles. While the one danced on the tips of her tiny feet, the other bent one knee, and they alternated these postures in quick succession. It was the well-known number ‘Two Swallows in Spring’, and although the girls did their best, they seemed conscious of their nakedness under the thin robes, and lacked the abandon of experienced dancers. The guests did not pay much attention to them and there was a general conversation while the servants brought in steaming hot dishes.

  Judge Dee covertly observed the drawn face of his neighbour who was listlessly picking at her food. He knew from her biography that she had actually experienced abject poverty, and he appreciated her sincerity. But her poem had been unkind to their genial host, rude, even. He bent over to her and asked:

  ‘Don’t you think your poem was a bit unkind? I know that despite his debonair manner Magistrate Lo is a most conscientious official, who uses his private means not only for entertaining us, but also for contributing generously to all charitable organizations.’

  ‘Who wants charity?’ she asked with disdain.

  ‘Wanted or not, it still helps a lot of people,’ Judge Dee remarked dryly. He couldn’t make out this strange woman.

  The music stopped and the two young dancers made their bow. There was half-hearted applause. New dishes were being carried to the tables, and fresh wine was brought out. Then Lo rose from his chair, and said with a broad smile:

  ‘The performance you witnessed just now was but a modest introduction to the main programme! After the stewed carp has been served, there’ll be a brief interval, for watching the fireworks in the garden, from the balcony. Afterwards you’ll see a rare old dance, peculiar to
this region. It’ll be performed by the dancer Small Phoenix, accompanied by two flutes and the small drum. The title of the melody is “Black Fox Lay”.’

  He resumed his seat amidst the astonished murmur of the guests.

  ‘Excellent idea, Lo,’ the Academician shouted. ‘At long last a dance I’ve never seen before!’

  ‘Very interesting,’ the Court Poet commented. ‘As a native of this district, I know that there exists an old fox-lore here. Never heard about that particular dance, though.’

  The sexton asked Lo in his hoarse, croaking voice:

  ‘Do you think it’s right to have a magic dance at this …’

  The rest was lost in the animated music the orchestra had struck up. Judge Dee wanted to start another conversation with the poetess, but she said curtly:

  ‘Later, please! I like this music. Used to dance to it, formerly.’

  The judge devoted his attention to the carp stewed in a sweet-sour sauce which was indeed delicious. Suddenly a swishing sound came from outside. A rocket flew up, leaving a string of coloured lights in its wake.

  ‘On to the balcony, please!’ Magistrate Lo shouted. And to the housemaster who was standing by the screen, ‘Douse all the lights!’

  They all rose and went out on the balcony. Judge Dee stood himself at the red-lacquered balustrade, beside the poetess. Lo was on her other side, and Counsellor Kao and the old housemaster stood a little further along. Looking over his shoulder, the judge vaguely saw the tall figure of the Academician. He supposed that Chang and the sexton were standing there too, but he couldn’t see them for all the lamps and candles had been put out and the banquet hall was a mass of indistinct black shadow.

  A large wheel consisting of coloured lights was turning round on the scaffolding in the garden below, sparks spouting from the fire crackers attached to its circumference. It turned quicker and quicker, then suddenly dissolved in a rain of multicoloured stars.