Breaking Bamboo

by Tim Murgatroyd

  ‘Miss Lu Ying,’ said Cao. ‘There is something I hoped to ask.’

  Cao hesitated, aware how easily her superiority over the girl had turned to its opposite. Was it not the fate of all women, to float or sink like ships carried by the tides of their men? She laboured on: ‘Miss Lu Ying, can you not use your influence with His Excellency to lessen my husband’s discomfort? After all, Dr Shih was kind to you. And now he is in danger. His Excellency would surely read a petition from you with great attention.’

  Lu Ying met her hopeful gaze. Then glanced away.

  ‘Madam Cao,’ she said. ‘You exaggerate my influence. It appears to be very little.’

  Nevertheless Wang Ting-bo had recently ordered the delivery of extra rations to Apricot Corner Court for his former concubine’s sustenance. A small quantity, it was true, but enough to indicate she was remembered – and perhaps more.

  Cao suspected that communications of a secret nature had passed between Lu Ying and the Pacification Commissioner. A liveried servant from Peacock Hill had called on two occasions since Shih’s arrest, conferring with the former concubine in a low voice. Perhaps this humble emissary signalled Lu Ying’s restoration was imminent. Yet when Cao had hinted at the possibility, the girl’s face went quite blank. One might almost imagine the question caused her distress.

  ‘I might only make such a petition to His Excellency once,’ added Lu Ying. ‘Not that I do not feel grateful to Dr Shih – and to yourself! Only I am like an archer with one arrow. I must preserve it for myself. Would not anyone do the same?’

  Madam Cao lowered her eyes in despair and seemed hardly aware of the question.

  ‘What pains me most,’ she whispered. ‘Is that our former apprentice conspires in the prosecution against Dr Shih. We saved him from ruin, you know.’

  ‘I never liked him,’ said Lu Ying. ‘Quite, quite ugly.’

  ‘He was so sad a child, and very thin. Yet between us we restored his health and humour and plumpness. Yet I am told he will stand witness against Dr Shih tomorrow. How can such things be?’

  ‘I must return to my room,’ said Lu Ying.

  ‘Yes, go,’ said Cao, not bitterly. She was too preoccupied for bitterness. ‘Forgive me for detaining you.’

  Lu Ying bowed low for the first time since she had arrived at Apricot Corner Court and shuffled away on her tiny, lotus feet.

  *

  It is said: in death, avoid hell; in life, avoid the law courts. Cao remembered this proverb as she rose at dawn and hastily prepared simple meals of grain for those dependent upon her.

  She dressed in her most respectable silks – a long trailing skirt and sober belted jacket of blue – gathering every cash coin and precious thing they still possessed, in case she might yet be able to bribe the judge. Even a small gift might brighten His Honour’s mood. On the other hand, it might offend his sense of im portance. All their real wealth was invested in Apricot Corner Court and one could hardly hand over a wooden house.

  As Cao was about to leave, she heard a knock on the door leading to the inner courtyard.

  Upon opening it, she recoiled in surprise. A crowd of forty or fifty people were gathered round the apricot tree, muttering among themselves. Cao was surprised to see Widow Mu at the rear, accompanied by her daughter, Lan Tien. At the front of the crowd stood their other neighbour, Old Hsu. His eyes brightened at the sight of her and he bowed respectfully.

  ‘Madam Cao,’ he said, in his rasping voice. ‘It is a blessing to detain you before you depart for your husband’s – ahem –arraignment.’ This obscure statement and grand word evidently pleased Old Hsu.

  ‘You see,’ said Old Hsu. ‘We wish to escort you to the Prefectural court.’

  Cao dabbed her eyes. It was an old custom in the city for friends and well-wishers to attend court hearings so that the judge might know the accused was not without clan. Tears welled and Cao bowed at the crowd.

  ‘Behold all the residents of Apricot Corner Court!’ said Old Hsu. ‘And dozens of Dr Shih’s patients, all wishing to testify to his good name. Orderly Mung Po is with us, as are the entire Xue and Rashid clans, and many more besides! It is our intention to sway the court.’

  Now Cao blinked in joyful wonder.

  ‘You need say no more,’ said Old Hsu. ‘You are a woman and silence is best. I shall speak on behalf of everyone here.’

  This seemed less sensible.

  ‘Master Hsu,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, but do you not recall how His Honour singled you out when he came to Apricot Corner Court? You may be sure he remembers you.’

  ‘Madam, it is a risk I must take,’ said Old Hsu. ‘I am no stranger to taking risks for justice’s sake. Only through courage might the Great Society be won.’

  Cao scarcely knew what he was talking about, yet felt deep relief. She was no longer alone.

  As the procession left Apricot Corner Court, other residents of Water Basin Ward joined them. Dr Shih was a popular man, not least because of his stewardship of the North Medical Relief Bureau. Just as significantly, people knew him as brother to their beloved Captain Xiao, hero of Swallow Gate. It seemed a cowardly thing to many that Dr Shih should be prosecuted when his brother was not in the city to support him. Others tagged along because the long siege had brought idleness. As the authorities understood, there was nothing so tinder-like as an idle mob. Especially during the dog days.

  All formal trials in the Empire were public. Yet some were more public than others. When His Honour stepped onto the judge’s podium to occupy an ancient chair painted with images of King Chu Jiang, one of the Ten Kings of Hell, he blinked in surprise.

  Over a hundred people were gathered in the long hall, held back by a dozen constables. Many more were squatting in the dusty square outside, including unchaperoned women. His Honour adjusted the papers and writing materials on his red-covered table. He straightened his moustache and tuft of beard.

  An officer of the Guard hurried over.

  ‘Sir!’ he said, bringing his fists together in salute. ‘It seems these people wish to petition for one of the prisoners, sir.’

  Madam Cao watched His Honour assess the crowd.

  ‘Do you want them cleared, sir?’ asked the officer.

  ‘No,’ said His Honour. ‘His Imperial Majesty’s justice does not hide. It may be seen by all his people, like the sun.’

  Cao felt a shiver of premonition. Old Hsu the fan-maker knelt beside her. He raised an eyebrow as Apprentice Chung entered by a side door, accompanied by Dr Du Mau, who sported a golden belt-amulet showing his high office in the Guild of Physicians. Cao recoiled at the sight of Chung in fine new silks. It appeared he was trying to grow a man’s moustache. His plump face was flushed, sullen and afraid. His fear was justified: the accuser might become the accused in a moment.

  Now she understood it all. How she had delivered poor Shih to his enemies through foolish indiscretions. How Chung had avoided his conscription as a bomb-maker in the Bureau of Righteous Fire. She buried her gaze in the earth.

  Finally, another side door opened and Dr Shih emerged, assisted by one of the gaolers. Two weeks in the Prefectural prison had robbed his face of all colour. His wrists were raw from the chafing of iron manacles, his legs unsteady. Cao gasped at how thin he had grown. Dr Du Mau examined him curiously, too, except the only emotion he showed was a twitch in the corner of his mouth and a brooding glance at young Chung.

  The latter seemed to find the floor of great interest – anywhere sooner than look at his former master or the ranks of kneeling people, many of whom were friends from Apricot Corner Court. He was particularly assiduous at avoiding Madam Cao’s anxious face.

  His Honour watched impassively as the accused fell to his knees and wearily pressed his forehead to the earthen floor.

  ‘Commence with the impeachments against Dr Yun Shih,’ he announced in a singsong voice to emphasise the gravity of the situation.

  Cao listened to the charges. First Dr Du Mau showed a letter he had received fr
om the Physician’s Guild in the capital, Linan.

  Its contents did not entirely surprise her: that a scandal had occurred, contrary to all natural relations. That an apprentice had eloped with his master’s daughter. That property had vanished when they fled the capital with cash and valuable medical equipment. No blame was offered against the girl, for it was assumed she must be a dupe to the male in the case. Cao bristled inwardly at these charges: was the best part of her life a crime?

  ‘And you testify, Dr Du Mau,’ drawled His Honour. ‘That this letter passed through the blockade around our beloved Twin Cities. How strange, sir! Please explain.’

  Dr Du Mau seemed surprised by this question, and not a little displeased.

  ‘Everyone knows, Your Honour,’ he said. ‘That messages and much more besides reach us from the capital, if one is willing to pay a very high price. It is true, however, that a gentleman with great influence was involved. I fear it would be indiscreet to mention his name in so public a place.’

  His Honour nodded understandingly.

  ‘I believe there is also a witness.’

  All attention shifted to Chung, who fell to his knees. Until now the crowd there to support Dr Shih had maintained a prudent silence. Many present remembered the orphan boy nurtured by the man he now accused. Others recollected Chung’s weakness for gambling and that the same fault had brought about his father’s suicide. Above all, their sense of xiao was outraged. The discomfort on Chung’s face revealed an awareness of his unfilial conduct.

  ‘Well then,’ said His Honour. ‘What are you?’

  Chung bowed so many times while naming himself he resembled a bobbing heron.

  ‘What do you know that is relevant to this case?’

  Quite unexpectedly, Chung prostrated himself so that he was almost flat on the earthen floor of the courtroom: a sign of respect evidently not displeasing to His Honour.

  ‘Madam Cao over there once told me that she and the master – as he was then, sir, though he is no more, now I am Dr Du Mau’s loyal servant – that my then master, Dr Shih, ran away with her for love and without her father’s permission, for her father, a Dr Ou-yang, sir, or so she claimed, was dead, and so he could not grant it.’

  His Honour watched Chung with interest.

  ‘Proceed,’ he ordered.

  ‘And, sir,’ said Chung, in a rush. ‘It means they never married at all. Yet they passed themselves off as respectable people. They deceived the trust of their neighbours, Your Honour, and of His Excellency Wang Ting-bo.’

  These last phrases sounded as though they had been planted in the youth’s mouth. For a moment there was silence in the long room. The crowd digested his words. Someone behind Cao muttered: ‘It is a fault in Dr Shih, but marrying without permission is hardly unknown in Water Basin Ward.’

  His Honour examined the top of Dr Shih’s bent head. Cao followed the judge’s gaze. The lofty thought processes of such a personage were unfathomable. Yet she did not like the way His Honour kept glancing at Dr Du Mau, as though for approval. The Du clan were powerful, especially across the water in Fouzhou. His Honour shrugged, washing his hands of the matter.

  ‘Damning evidence,’ he announced, reverting to a sing-song voice. ‘Does the accused have anything to say in his defence?’

  Dr Shih’s head remained bowed for a long moment. Then he slowly looked up. His eyes sought out Madam Cao. Cracked lips tried to smile reassuringly when he found her. After that he did not shift his attention from her face.

  ‘Do you offer no defence?’ repeated His Honour, irritably.

  Still Shih stared longingly at Cao, so that she felt herself blush before his steady look. The accused man turned towards the judge. A proud and disdainful expression transformed Shih’s face, and he seemed about to speak. Never had he looked more like the resolute Captain Xiao.

  ‘The charges against me relate to unfilial conduct,’ he said, his voice weak and slightly breathless. ‘Yet if I am to be con-demned for a love-match, how many thousands in Nancheng must follow? The city is full of such marriages, as all know.

  True justice. . .’ He coughed, painfully. ‘Comprehends the human heart.’

  Shih glanced again at his wife, the corners of his mouth lifting a little. His gentle brown eyes did not waver as he added:

  ‘And I wish my wife to know that I regret nothing! Nothing!

  This foolish charge least of all. If I am to be found guilty for marrying such a lady then the law is unnatural. And quite at fault. Not her. Never her.’

  Many in the crowd muttered approvingly at this fine speech.

  Old Hsu, in particular, nodded gravely. His Honour scowled and said: ‘Be warned, if you offend me, I shall include your wife in the charges.’

  Shih stiffened, his eyes opening wide. Then his shoulders sagged.

  ‘In that case, sir,’ he said. ‘I have nothing more to say.’

  His Honour sniffed, exchanging a look of satisfaction with Dr Du Mau.

  ‘That settles the matter. My judgment is as follows. . .’

  Before he could utter it, a slender, angry figure rose stiffly to his feet. Cao tried to persuade Old Hsu to kneel but the old man shook her off.

  ‘I cannot remain silent!’ he cried. ‘It is obvious this court intends to punish my good neighbour, Dr Shih! And quite unjustly!’

  Old Hsu’s supporters murmured until their voices filled the room. His Honour watched through cold eyes. The court officials stirred uneasily, taking hold of their bamboo clubs.

  ‘Dr Shih is a good man!’ continued Old Hsu. ‘Let him be, I say! That is true justice!’

  At this the crowd broke into applause. His Honour nodded sagely.

  ‘I am interested in your arguments,’ he said. ‘Indeed, you are familiar, old sir, from my inspection of Apricot Corner Court.

  Let the courtroom be emptied of everyone except Dr Shih’s close neighbours, then I can question you further.’

  This seemed entirely proper to Old Hsu – in many cases the law made one answerable for the crimes of one’s neighbours.

  Had he been a lawyer he would have known it did not apply here. For the wickedness laid against Dr Shih pre-dated the accused man’s residence at Apricot Corner Court.

  As it was, Old Hsu enthusiastically ushered the crowd of supporters outside, just as the judge directed. Cao waited, all the while trying to catch Shih’s eye. For the first time the accused wore a hopeful expression, yet kept his forehead low.

  When the courtroom was almost empty and Old Hsu’s allies had gone, His Honour turned to the constables: ‘All Dr Shih’s neighbours display a shameful, rebellious spirit. Their presence implies a criticism of the Son of Heaven’s benevolent rule.

  Therefore all residents of Apricot Corner Court shall suffer collective punishment. Five strokes of the bamboo for each of them!’

  A stunned silence greeted these words. Widow Mu cried out in fear and half-rose. Then she dragged her daughter, Lan Tien, forward.

  ‘Your Honour,’ pleaded Widow Mu. ‘We are not all to blame! It is Old Hsu! He threatened to hurt me and my daughter if we did not come here. It was him, sir, not us! I beg you!’

  His Honour’s frown deepened.

  ‘Is this true?’ he demanded.

  Old Hsu shook his head contemptuously.

  ‘Your Excellency!’ wailed Widow Mu, beside herself with fear. ‘He holds traitorous views, sir! He claims the Mongols are our brothers, or could be!’

  Now His Honour leaned forward.

  ‘Do you?’ he asked, quietly.

  ‘All men have the potential to be brothers,’ declared Old Hsu, while his sons desperately tried to hush him.

  ‘Constables, take hold of this outrageous fellow,’ ordered His Honour.

  The fan-maker gasped as his arms were seized, but did not struggle.

  ‘I sentence him to five extra strokes! He shall receive what the woman and her daughter are spared.’

  But Old Hsu seemed uncowed: ‘This is not just!’ he declare
d.

  Now His Honour flushed with rage.

  ‘Very well, fifteen strokes!’

  ‘Why do you keep looking to that doctor in fine silks for his approval?’ jeered Old Hsu. ‘Who is judge here? Him or you?’

  ‘I sentence you to twenty strokes!’ roared His Honour.

  ‘Is this proof you possess the Mandate of Heaven?’

  ‘Thirty strokes! Constable, let the sentence be carried out at once!’

  Again the courtroom was silent except for Widow Mu’s sobs.

  Old Hsu was approaching his seventh decade. So many blows were likely to have only one effect. The constables muttered among themselves, none eager to take the lead. At last, the youngest was chosen by his fellows. He swished the thick bamboo to test it.

  Two constables tore Old Hsu’s shirt so that his spindly spine was revealed. One could see his ribs pressing against papery skin. Cao glanced in horror at His Honour. Perhaps he regretted his angry judgement, for sweat had appeared on the fleshy forehead beneath the brim of his purple hat. But to alter his sentence now would entail loss of dignity. His Honour swallowed, moistening a dry throat.

  ‘Proceed!’ he said.

  Even Dr Du Mau demurred.

  ‘You Honour!’ he broke in. ‘This brings us no nearer to punishing Dr Yun Shih! May I beg that the old man wait his turn!’

  ‘Proceed!’

  Yet His Honour was not to be granted the last word. Old Hsu unexpectedly called out: ‘One day the Great Society will sweep away all corruption! Men will live as brothers, whether you like it or not, and wise judges shall dispense justice freely!’

  After such an outburst the bamboo-wielding constable had little option but to lay on with a will. A lack of zeal might suggest agreement with the crazy old man.

  The first blow fell on Old Hsu’s shoulders and he collapsed.

  Another hit him sharply across the spine, making a cracking noise. It was strange to hear an old man shriek so loudly. The third struck low down, at the base of the spine. With each blow, the young constable gained more confidence, as though beating an old man who resembled his grandfather was quite customary. He bent his knee stylishly and acquired a rhythm.