‘I had a fine climb. Saw one gold pheasant, and two gibbons swinging in the trees. Also a fox. A very large one. It …’
‘I do hope you’ll spare us your spooky fox-stories tonight, Sexton!’ the poetess interrupted with a smile. And to the judge: ‘Last time we met in the Lake District, he gave all of us goose-flesh!’ Judge Dee thought she was looking much better than at noon. But that might be because of her elaborate make-up.
The sexton fixed her with his bulging eyes.
‘I have second sight, at times,’ he said quietly. ‘If I tell others what I see, it’s partly to show off, partly to allay my own fears. For I don’t like the things I see. Personally, I prefer to look at animals. In the wild.’
It struck Judge Dee that the sexton was in an unusually subdued mood.
‘At my former post, Han-yuan,’ the judge remarked, ‘there were many gibbons in the forest, just behind my residence. I watched them every day while having my morning tea on the back gallery.’
‘It’s a good thing to like animals,’ the sexton said slowly. ‘One never knows what animal one was in a former existence. Neither into what animal one’s soul might migrate in a future incarnation.’
‘I imagine you were a fierce tiger once, Magistrate!’ the poetess told Judge Dee archly.
‘A watchdog rather, madam!’ the judge said. And to the sexton: ‘Well, sir, you stated you aren’t a Buddhist any more. Yet you believe in the doctrine of transmigration.’
‘Of course I do! Why do some people live in abject misery from cradle to grave? Or why does a young child die a painful and horrible death? The only acceptable explanation is that they expiate sins committed during a former life. How could the Powers on High expect us to make amends for all the wrongs we do in only one single lifetime?’
‘No, no, I insist, Lo!’ the voice of the Academician cut into their conversation. ‘You must recite one of your naughty love poems! To prove your reputation as a great lover!’
‘Lo is a lover of love,’ the poetess remarked dryly. ‘He dallies with many, because he lacks the capacity to really love one.’
‘An unkind remark to our worthy host!’ the Court Poet called out. ‘As a fine, you shall recite one of your own love poems, Yoo-lan!’
‘I don’t recite love poetry. Not any more. But I’ll write one verse for you.’ Magistrate Lo beckoned the housemaster and pointed at the side-table where ink and paper had been made ready. Judge Dee noticed that his colleague had grown pale. Yoo-lan’s remark had apparently touched a raw spot. The housemaster was selecting a sheet of paper, but the Academician shouted:
‘Our great Yoo-lan shan’t write her immortal verse on a scrap of paper! Write on the pillar there, so that your poem can be engraved in the wood, to be read and admired by later generations!’
The poetess shrugged. She got up and went to the nearest pillar. One maidservant followed her with a square inkslab and a writing-brush, another stood by with a candle. Yoo-lan rubbed the pillar till she found a smooth space. Again the judge was struck by her slender, expressive hands. She moistened the brush on the inkslab and wrote in clear, elegant characters:
Bitterly I search for the right words,
For this poem, written under my lamp.
I cannot sleep the long night,
fearing the lonely coverlets.
In the garden outside
Is the soft rustling of the autumn leaves.
The moon shines forlornly
Through the gauze window panes.
‘Ha!’ the Academician exclaimed. ‘All the nostalgic mood of autumn captured in four lines. Our poetess is forgiven! Let’s all drink to her!’
They had many more rounds, while the waiters served new hot dishes. Four large copper braziers heaped with glowing coals had been placed at the four corners of the company, for now that night had fallen it was becoming cold on the cliff, and a damp mist was rising up from the gorge. Dark clouds obscured the moon. Magistrate Lo, who had been staring absent-mindedly at the glow of the lampions in the pine trees outside, now suddenly leaned forward.
‘What the devil are those three soldiers making a fire for, there under the trees?’
Those are my guards, Magistrate,’ the poetess told him evenly.
‘The impudent rascals!’ Lo shouted. ‘I shall have them immediately …’
‘Your guarantee covers only my stay inside your residence,’ she reminded him quickly.
‘Ah … hm. Yes, I see,’ Lo muttered. Then he asked sharply: ‘Where’s the sweet-sour carp, Housemaster? ‘
Judge Dee personally refilled Yoo-lan’s cup, and told her:
‘My friend Lo gave me his notes on the case that is pending against you, madam. He thought I might be able to help you draw up your plea. I am not a very good writer, but I have made a special study of legal documents, and …’
The poetess put her cup down.
‘I do appreciate the kind intention, sir. But six weeks in various prisons gave me ample time to consider the merits of my case. Although I lack as a matter of course your immense knowledge of legal phraseology, I still think that I myself am the person best qualified for drawing up my defence. Let me pour you another drink!’
‘Don’t be a fool, Yoo-lan!’ the sexton said brusquely. ‘Dee has made quite a reputation for himself in the field!’
‘It struck me,’ Judge Dee resumed, ‘that the fact that the case was initiated on the basis of an anonymous letter was not given its full weight. I could find no indication of anyone going into the question of how the writer came to know about the buried body. The letter was written by an accomplished scholar, which rules out the members of the robber band. Don’t you have any idea about his identity, madam?’
THE POETESS INSCRIBES A PILLAR
‘If I had,’ she replied curtly, ‘I would have told the judges.’ She emptied her cup, then added: ‘Or maybe not.’
There was a sudden silence. Then the Court Poet remarked dryly:
‘Inconsistency is the privilege of a beautiful and talented woman. I drink to you, Yoo-lan!’
‘I join that toast!’ the Academician boomed. There was general laughter, but the judge thought it didn’t ring true. All had been drinking heavily, but he knew that the three men had a tremendous capacity, and they gave not the slightest sign of losing their composure. But there was a feverish glint in the eyes of the poetess; she seemed on the verge of breaking down. He must try to draw her out further, for her enigmatic last remark seemed to imply that she suspected someone, and that the person she suspected was sitting here at this table.
‘The anonymous letter accusing you, madam,’ he resumed, ‘reminded me of one written here in Chin-hwa eighteen years ago. The letter that brought about the downfall of General Mo Te-ling. That letter had also been written by an accomplished scholar, you see.’
She darted a sharp look at him. Raising her curved eyebrows, she asked:
‘Eighteen years ago, you say? That doesn’t seem very helpful to me!’
‘The fact is,’ Judge Dee went on, ‘that I met here a person who was connected with the general’s case. Indirectly, it’s true. Yet our conversation opened interesting possibilities. It was the daughter of one of the general’s concubines. Of the surname Soong.’
He looked round at the sexton. But the obese monk didn’t seem to have followed the conversation; he was intent on his food, a vegetarian dish of stewed bamboo shoots. The Academician and the Court Poet were listening, but their faces betrayed only polite interest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the startled look on the face of the poetess by his side. Amazed, he made a quick calculation: she had been only twelve at that time! Apparently someone had told her about the case. Someone who knew. The sexton put down his chopsticks.
‘Soong, you say? Wasn’t that the name of the student who was murdered here the other day?’
‘Indeed, sir. It was in connection with that murder that my colleague and I went into that old case of General Mo’s high treason.’
‘Don’t know what you were trying to find there, of course.’ The Academician joined the conversation. ‘But if you think there was something wrong with the verdict on the general, Lo, you’re barking up the wrong tree! I acted as the Censor’s adviser, you know; followed the whole trial closely. And I can tell you that the man was guilty. A pity, for he was a good soldier. Outwardly a genial kind of chap, too. But the core was rotten. Had been brooding over a matter of promotion.’
The Court Poet nodded. He took a sip from his cup and said in his precise voice:
‘I know next to nothing about judicial affairs, Lo, but I am interested in puzzles. Could you explain what the connection is between that old trial for high treason, and the recent murder of this student?’
‘The murdered student’s name being Soong, sir, we thought he might be a half-brother of the concubine’s daughter my colleague Dee mentioned just now.’
‘That seems to me nothing but a wild guess!’ the poet protested.
Yoo-lan wanted to speak, but Judge Dee said quickly:
‘Oh no, sir. The general’s concubine had abandoned her daughter, you see, because it was the issue of an adulterous relationship. We reasoned that when the student learned that his half-sister was living here, and also her mother’s lover, he might have come to Chin-hwa to look for that man. For my colleague and I found out that the student visited the archives in the tribunal here in order to make a study of the general’s friends and relations.’
‘My compliments, Lo!’ the Academician shouted. ‘While entertaining us so lavishly, you managed to go about your official duties at the same time! And so quietly that we didn’t even suspect it! Any clue to the murderer of the student?’
‘It was my colleague Dee who did all the real work, sir! He can tell you about the latest developments.’
‘By a mere chance,’ the judge said, ‘I located Soong’s half-sister. She’s the guardian of the Black Fox Shrine at the South Gate, as a matter of fact. She’s a half-wit, but…’
‘A mentally deranged person’s evidence is not admitted in court,’ the Court Poet interrupted. ‘Even I do know that much about legal affairs!’
The sexton had turned round in his chair. Fixing the judge with his protruding eyes, he asked:
‘So you know Saffron, eh, Dee?’
Chapter 18
SEXTON LOO PURSED his thick lips. Turning his wine cup round in his large, hairy hand, he resumed pensively:
‘I visited that girl too, once. Am interested in her because she has a definite affinity with foxes, you see. Place is crawling with them. Know her background? She was sold to a cheap brothel, but bit off the tongue of her first customer. Fox-like gesture, that! Effective too, for the fellow nearly bled to death, and in the confusion she jumped out of the window, and made straight for the fox shrine on the wastelands. Has been there ever since.’
‘When did you see her last, sir? ‘ Judge Dee asked casually.
‘When? Oh, must have been about a year or so ago. When I came back here three days ago I wanted to spend more time with her. In order to find out exactly what the tie is between her and those foxes.’ He shook his large head. ‘Went there a couple of times, but turned back at the entrance gate of the wasteland each time. Because of the large crowd of spectres about there.’ He refilled his cup. Turning to Magistrate Lo, he resumed, ‘That girl you hired to dance for us last night also had a foxy look, Lo. How’s her foot coming along?’
The small magistrate shot Judge Dee a questioning look. When the judge nodded, Lo said to the company in general:
‘We didn’t want to distress you last night, gentlemen, so you were informed she had an accident. In fact, she was murdered.’
‘I knew it!’ the sexton muttered. ‘Her dead body was lying there close by us, all the time we were drinking and talking.’
The Court Poet had been looking dumbfounded at Yoo-lan.
‘Murdered?’ he asked. ‘And you found her?’
As the poetess nodded, the Academician said crossly:
‘Should’ve told us, Lo! We aren’t so easily distressed, you know. And with my long experience as investigating judge, I might have given you a useful hint or two. Well, so you have two murders on your hands, eh? Any clue to the scoundrel who did the dancer in?’
Seeing that his colleague hesitated, Judge Dee replied in his stead:
‘Both cases are narrowly connected, sir. As regards the student Soong and the research he was conducting here, I fully agree with you that his father had indeed been guilty of high treason, and that in this respect the student was barking up the wrong tree. But my colleague and I think that the student was well on the way to tracking down the person who had denounced his father, not for a patriotic, but for a most selfish reason, namely …’ He was interrupted by a startled cry from the poetess.
‘Must you go on with all that horrible talk?’ she asked in a trembling voice. ‘With this sly stalking of your prey, closing in, in ever narrowing circles… . Have you forgotten that I am also an accused, with a death sentence hanging over my head? How can you …’
‘Steady, Yoo-lan!’ the Academician intervened. ‘You haven’t to worry about anything! There’s not the slightest doubt about your acquittal, of course. The judges of the Metropolitan Court are excellent men, I know them all. I can assure you that they’ll hear your case as a mere formality, then summarily dismiss it.’
‘Absolutely,’ the Court Poet said. Judge Dee resumed quickly:
‘I have good news for you, madam. I said a few minutes ago that the anonymous letter denouncing General Mo, and the one accusing you, were both written by a good scholar. Now we have found out that the writer must have been one and the same person. That opens up a new line of approach to your case, madam.’
The Academician and the Court Poet looked at the judge in blank astonishment.
‘Let’s have more about the murder of the foxy dancer,’ the sexton croaked. ‘Happened in the room next door to ours, after all!’
‘Indeed, sir. You’re familiar, of course, with the story of the Consort’s Staircase. And with the fact that the consort of the Ninth Prince utilized the door behind the screen in the banquet hall to …’ There was a loud crash at Judge Dee’s side.
The poetess had jumped up, overturning her chair. Looking down at the judge with flaming eyes, she shouted at him:
‘You utter fool! You with your far-fetched, fumbling theories! You can’t even see the simple truth right before your eyes!’ She pressed her hands against her heaving bosom, in a frantic attempt to regain her breath. ‘I tell you I am sick and tired of all this pettifoggery. I’ve had nearly two months of it, I can’t stand it any longer! I am through!’ Hitting her fist on the table, she screamed, ‘It was me who killed that blackmailing dancer, you fool! She was asking for it! Stuck the scissors into her scrawny neck, then went to you and acted my part!’
There was a deep silence while she surveyed the company with her burning eyes. Judge Dee looked up at her, dumbfounded.
‘That’s the end!’ Magistrate Lo muttered.
Then the poetess lowered her eyes. She resumed, calmer now:
‘The student Soong had been my lover. I know he was obsessed by the idea that his father had been falsely accused. The dancer told me that Soong went to see Saffron. A poor half-wit, suffering from erotic hallucinations. Keeps a skeleton dressed up in a shroud as her lover. Smarting under the fact that she’s a foundling, she dreamed up a father who came to see her regularly. Small Phoenix told me, said she fortified Saffron in that illusion, just to keep her in a good mood so she would teach her those weird songs. I tell you that Small Phoenix was a sly, malicious bitch who fully deserved to die. She had wormed my secret out of Soong. That’s what she wanted to blackmail me with, as I found out yesterday afternoon. She was going to dance the “Purple Cloud”, but after she had met me and thought over her chances, she changed to the “Black Fox Lay”. As a gentle hint to me that she had met Soong out there in the ruined temple.�
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She had been talking so fast that she had to stop again, gasping for breath. Judge Dee tried frantically to sort out the confused statement. His carefully built-up case was crumbling to pieces before he had even begun to formulate it. There was a clanging of iron. The three guards, alerted by the crash of the chair and the shouting of the poetess, had come to the pavilion. The sergeant stood at a pillar, surveying the scene with a dubious look. The others didn’t see him. All eyes were on the poetess who was standing there, her hands on the table. Then Judge Dee asked in a voice he hardly recognized as his own:
‘What was your secret the dancer learned from Soong? ‘
The poetess turned round and beckoned the sergeant.
‘Come here, Sergeant! You’ve treated me decently, and you’ve a right to hear this!’ As the sergeant came up to the table, casting a worried glance at Magistrate Lo, the poetess resumed:
‘Soong had been my lover, but soon I was through with him and sent him away. Last autumn, that was. Six weeks ago, he stayed for a few days in the Lake District. Came to see me and implored me to take him back. I refused. I’ve had my fill of lovers. I had come to hate men, had only a few girl friends left. For what they were worth! I discovered that my maid had deceived me with a coolie, and I sent her packing. She came back later that night, thinking that I had left already for my evening walk. I caught her while she was emptying my jewel box.’
She paused, impatiently pushing away a lock that had strayed to her brow from her sagging coiffure.
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