Tiger

by Jeff Stone

  Ying leaned his head to the side. “You have the boy and the scrolls?”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied, looking down at Ying's feet. He shuddered.

  Ying's eyes narrowed. “How many scrolls are there?”

  “Four, sir,” the villager said.

  “And what do they look like?”

  The man looked up at Ying, surprised. “No one dared open them, sir. We thought it best to stay out of your business.”

  Ying grinned. “All right, then, describe the boy.”

  “He is, well, rather large for his age. He appears to be about twelve years old. He is bald and wears an orange monk's robe. He has a deep, gravelly voice. He—”

  “Is there anything wrong with his face?” Ying asked.

  The villager paused. “What… aaah … exactly do you mean by wrong, sir?”

  “Does he have any distinguishing marks on his face!”

  “He has a … aaah … long, handsome scar forming across one cheek. Much like you have, sir.”

  Ying's carved face grew dark. “Enough! This man appears to be telling the truth.” Ying looked over at the gate. Captain Yue was standing there, staring at his reflection in the rain barrel.

  “Captain Yue,” Ying shouted. “Get over here! Now!”

  Captain Yue sprinted over.

  Ying rubbed his forehead. “Commander Woo, you still have work to do here, and Tonglong is out on a special mission. I guess I will have to leave this in your hands, Captain Yue. You failed miserably the first time you went to that village. This will be your chance to redeem yourself. Take fifty men and return to the village to collect the young monk and the scrolls. Bring them back here. If you fail again, you will answer to me—and not even your horse will stand between us. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Yue said. He swallowed hard.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ying snarled. “Choose your men, mount that demon stallion of yours, and GO!”

  The day was drawing to a close, and the entire village was gathered in the square watching Fu teach nearly one hundred children one kung fu technique each from inside the cage. There were boys and girls alike, each taking a turn standing just outside the cage bars for their personal instruction. Several of the boys complained about girls being involved until Fu told them that he would not teach any of the boys anything if they didn't stop complaining. Moreover, he informed the boys that more than a few women had been “nuns” at temples throughout China, including the famous Shaolin Temple. Fu assured the boys that if they ever crossed paths with a warrior “nun,” they would want to be sure to keep their negative thoughts about girls to themselves.

  The whole time, there was much talk among the parents as to whether Fu's kung fu course should be stopped immediately—especially with girls involved. However, in the end, most of the parents agreed that since no one had gotten hurt and the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, the training could continue. The day was warm, and the atmosphere in the square was pleasant. The same could not be said for the atmosphere inside the bun vendor's shop. It was hot in there. Very hot, indeed.

  “I say we let him go,” one man said. “He's obviously not a bad kid. He just made a mistake.”

  “Not a bad kid?” another shouted. “Look at poor little Ho! He's been sitting in that corner all day with one ear cocked in our direction because his other one doesn't work!”

  Ho stood up and shouted back across the crowded room. “My head has been straight for hours! Not cocked! And I already told you—my hearing is returning!”

  The Governor stood and put his hand on Ho's shoulder. The room quieted down. The Governor leaned over.

  “What has gotten into you, son? I've never seen you like this before.”

  Ho plopped back down in his chair. “I've never been this upset before, Father. I hate when people argue, and I really hate when people argue over me. I'm the one who has suffered most, and I still think we should let the monk go. Just as long as he promises not to attack anyone from our village ever again. What's done is done. Past is past. That's what you always say, isn't it?”

  The Governor sat down, facing Ho. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That is very big of you, son. But it's not that simple. There are a lot of politics involved. The main thing is, I've already sent two men to inform Major Ying of the young monk's capture. If soldiers arrive to collect him and he's not here, the soldiers will be very, very angry. So angry, in fact, that they may destroy our entire village. I've seen it before.”

  A man in the crowd said bitterly, “So what are we going to do, Governor? Just hand the boy over—and sentence him to death?”

  “Don't be ridiculous!” someone shouted. “We don't know that he will be killed.”

  “They killed all his brothers and destroyed his entire temple!” another shouted back. “That's what that captain said! I say we let the monk go. If the soldiers give us a hard time, we'll just say that the boy escaped.”

  “If he ‘escapes,' the entire village will be destroyed!”

  “You don't know that! You wouldn't know a—”

  The voices inside the bun shop grew louder and louder. So loud, in fact, that Fu heard every word. He knew he had to do something to help make things right, but what? He was struggling to come up with a plan when Ma appeared carrying a terra-cotta roasting pot.

  “Here,” Ma said, forcing the pot between the bars of the cage. “I asked my mother to make this for you. It's her famous Greasy Goose. I also brought you a needle and some thread to fix your robe and your pants.”

  “Thanks,” Fu said. He made a strange face as he reached for the items.

  “I know, sewing is woman's work,” Ma said. “But you really should cover yourself up better.”

  Sewing wasn't the reason Fu had made the face. Everyone had a job at Cangzhen, and Fu's happened to be mending everyone else's torn robes and pants. He was actually quite good at it. It was the food that made his face turn sour. Fu removed the lid and winced. Though he loved chicken and even duck, he had problems with goose. Especially Greasy Goose. The one time he'd eaten it, his stomach hadn't been the same for an entire day. Fu put the lid back on the pot and pushed it aside.

  “Aaah … thank you very much,” Fu said. “I'll… eat it later.”

  “Later?” Ma said. “Aren't you hungry? My mother made it just for you, you know. She feels sorry for you. She said no child should ever be locked in a cage.”

  Fu lowered his eyes. “Please tell your mother I said thank you very much, but…”

  “But what?” Ma asked, irritated.

  Just then, the wind picked up and blew the Greasy Goose aroma in Fu's direction. His stomach turned.

  “But… nothing,” Fu said, looking up. He had just thought of a plan. “Please tell your mother I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank her!”

  Fu tossed the pot's heavy lid aside and grabbed the entire goose with both hands. He tore into it, eating as fast as his jaws would chew. In no time, his stomach began to grumble loudly. His plan, it seemed, was in motion.

  “Gentlemen, it's time we go home to our families,” said the Governor to everyone assembled inside the bun vendor's shop. “We can continue this discussion tomorrow.”

  “Agreed,” said most of the men.

  As they filed into the village square, their noses began to recoil. A few men gagged. Something smelled very very unpleasant.

  “Oh, my stomach!” Fu called out. “Owwww….”

  The Governor shook his head. He removed a torch that burned outside the shop's front door and walked over to the cage. Several men followed. So did Ho.

  “What on earth did you eat, young man?” the Governor asked Fu as he approached the cage, holding his nose.

  “A gift from Ma's mother,” Fu replied. He rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped around himself. “I believe Ma called it Greasy Goose. I'm afraid my stomach isn't accustomed to such rich food.”

  The Governor shook his head. “Tomorrow I might be able
to persuade the village pharmacist to mix up a tea to settle your stomach. If you continue to behave. But I am afraid you are on your own tonight. There is nothing I can do for you.”

  “Oh, but there is, sir,” Fu said, desperation in his voice. “You could let me empty my sour stomach somewhere.”

  One of the men stepped forward. “Just take care of your business in the corner of your cage, animal.”

  “Are you crazy?” another man said. “The whole village will stink until the cage is gone! And do you want to be the one to give Major Ying a cage full of foulness?”

  “All right, all right,” said the Governor, waving the torch. “That's enough bickering. Young monk, do you swear by Buddha that you won't attack anyone tonight?”

  “Yes, yes,” Fu replied impatiently. “I swear I won't attack anyone tonight. Please, hurry.”

  The Governor handed the torch to one of the men and unlocked the cage's latch with a key he had hanging around his neck. He lifted one whole side of the cage, and Fu crawled out. Fu stretched, and his stomach grumbled loudly. Everyone backed away, including the Governor. The Governor took the torch back and tucked the key into the folds of his robe.

  “I am glad to see you've mended your pants, young man,” the Governor said to Fu. “Now I wish you luck in keeping them unsoiled.”

  The Governor turned to the men. “Gentlemen! Please escort this poor soul to the edge of the village and let him take care of his business. Then bring him back here and lock him up. The lock will engage automatically. Simply close the cage door. I am going home to spend some time with my son. Good night.”

  Fu watched the Governor and Ho depart. The Governor returned the torch to its spot in front of the bun vendor's shop, and Fu saw that a large basket of rice was now sitting on the ground outside the shop's door. It could have just been an illusion from the flickering light of the torch, but the top of the basket appeared to be shaking slightly—almost like it was laughing.

  “Let's go, boy,” one of the men said to Fu. “We don't have all night.”

  Fu followed. When they reached the edge of the village, one of the men pointed to a pile of leaves beneath a large oak tree.

  “There you go,” the man said to Fu.

  “You want me to go there?” Fu asked, surprised. “In plain sight?”

  “Yes. I'm not going to let you head off into those trees alone.”

  Fu rubbed his bald head. He needed to think of something—fast. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later, the man closest to him grabbed his nose and took several steps backward. Then the other men did the same thing, one right after another.

  “Jeez, kid—that's disgusting!” one of the men said.

  Fu shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. So, who's going to follow me into the trees?”

  “Nice try, monk,” one of the men said. “You're NOT going into the trees. You'll go right over there where we told you to go.”

  Fu had no choice but to walk to the leaf pile. He walked slowly, pausing once, concentrating.

  “Come on, kid!” someone blurted out. “Enough, already!”

  The men backed up even more. So much more, in fact, that they were soon out of sight in the inky darkness. Fu took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled. He wanted so badly to get down to business. However, what he wanted even more was to be free. Fu took another deep breath and ran off into the trees.

  “Villagers, I have returned!” Captain Yue announced the next morning. He sat atop his stallion at the edge of the village square, which was full of people. “I had to spend the night on the trail, so I'm in a terrible mood. Don't even think about trying my patience. Bring me the boy from Cangzhen Temple. NOW!”

  Captain Yue was greeted with several hundred blank stares. The entire village was gathered in the square, packed tightly together around the bamboo cage. The cage door was high in the air, which meant that it was empty. Captain Yue scowled. Infuriated, he waved his hand and fifty soldiers marched up behind him, armed to the teeth. Two of the soldiers held qiangs. Captain Yue looked down at the two villagers who had traveled to Cangzhen to inform them of the young monk's capture.

  “How dare you mock me?” Captain Yue shouted, spit flying from his flapping jaws. “You bring me here, and now your people stare at me ignorantly while standing around an empty cage? Somebody has some explaining to do. Immediately!”

  Both men stared back with blank expressions. Neither of them knew what was going on, and none of the villagers wanted to tell Captain Yue that Fu had escaped.

  Suddenly there was a stir among the crowd. The Governor approached Captain Yue briskly. In his hands were the dragon scrolls.

  “Most honorable Captain Yue,” the Governor said, bowing low. “I have what you've come for. It is with great respect I deliver these scrolls to you with my humble hands.”

  Captain Yue reached down from his horse and snatched all four scrolls. He opened one roughly and found it to be genuine. Then he threw it and the other three at one of his men. The soldier put the scrolls away for safekeeping.

  Captain Yue stared down at the Governor. “Where is the boy?”

  “I have given you the scrolls,” the Governor replied simply. “Of what use is the boy?”

  “You do not appear to be a fool, Governor. Do you not recall the penalty for harboring a Cangzhen monk? Bring the boy to me now, or perish.”

  The Governor frowned. “I'm sorry, sir. The boy has escaped.”

  “What?” Captain Yue shouted. “This is outrageous! How could you be so incompetent?”

  “Again, I apologize,” the Governor replied. “But—”

  “But nothing!” Captain Yue said. “Men, string this sorry excuse for a Governor from the tallest tree. Destroy the village to teach these people a lesson!”

  The soldiers rushed forward and there was a tremendous BANG! Everyone stopped and looked toward the source of the sound—the bamboo cage. The door had slammed shut and the lock engaged. A deep, gravelly voice spoke loudly from inside it.

  “I am the one who brought trouble into this village, and I will be the one to take it out. Soldiers, take me away.”

  “Who is it that speaks?” Captain Yue shouted, plunging into the crowd with his horse. Several villagers cried out in pain as the heavy horse trampled upon their legs and feet, stopping only after it reached the cage. Inside sat Fu, staring defiantly up at Captain Yue.

  “Who are you?” Captain Yue demanded.

  “I am Fu, the one you seek. Take me, and let these good people be.”

  “How do I know that you are the one I seek?” Captain Yue asked.

  “Because I am the one in the cage.”

  “The cage was empty when I arrived,” Captain Yue countered. “A prisoner does not come and go as he pleases. You must be an imposter. Where is the real monk?”

  “I am the real monk,” Fu said. “I escaped last night and hid at the edge of the village. I saw you arrive and knew the Governor had promised the scrolls to you, so I decided to ambush you as you left the village. I wanted the scrolls back. But once I heard that you planned to destroy the village because I wasn't in your grasp, I decided to put myself in your hands. I don't want any more harm to come to these good people. I snuck back in here through the crowd as they all stared at you, listening to every one of your stupid words. Take me away, and leave this village alone.”

  The villagers stared at the cage. Every one of them was touched by Fu's words, including those villagers who wanted him gone. Only Captain Yue seemed unaffected.

  “I don't believe you,” Captain Yue said. “No one is that noble, especially not a child. LISTEN TO ME NOW, ONE AND ALL! I refuse to take any chances. This boy is coming with me, and so is every boy in this village between the ages of ten and fifteen. Hand them over immediately, or my men and I will burn this village to the ground!”

  “No!” cried Fu. “You can't! I'm the one you want. Take me, and leave them be.”

  “Shut up, fat boy,” Captain Yue scowled. “You're coming wi
th me, and so are all your little friends.”

  “Who are you calling fat?” somebody said. Fu recognized the voice. It was the Drunkard.

  “Who said that?” Captain Yue demanded.

  “I did,” said the heavyset Drunkard, stumbling forward as the crowd parted. He pushed his tangled hair from his eyes and stared hard at Captain Yue. “The boy may be stout, but at least he can lose some weight if he wanted to. You are a fool, and there is no cure for that.”

  “Watch your mouth, Drunkard,” Captain Yue said. “I suggest you leave now before I let my horse trample you to pieces.” The horse neighed loudly and rose up on its hind legs, pawing at the air with its deadly front hooves. Its nostrils flared savagely.

  The Drunkard laughed. “You ask a horse to do your dirty work for you? I see what kind of man you are. You are weak.” The Drunkard swayed from side to side, crashing heavily into the cage. If not for the stout bamboo bars, the large man would have fallen over completely.

  “You try my patience, Drunkard,” Captain Yue said.

  “Oh, really? What does that mean? Aside from your horse, I see that you are equipped with a sword, and my ears tell me that you are also equipped with a tongue. You wield your tongue clumsily. I doubt you can do much better with your sword—or your horse.”

  “Ayyyaaaaa!” Captain Yue shouted as he jerked back on the reins. The horse reared up again, then came crashing down, its front legs pawing wildly at the Drunkard. For an instant, the heavyset Drunkard seemed as nimble as a cat. He darted to one side of the large, angry beast, only to stumble into the horse's side. Fu saw the Drunkard's thick right hand shoot forward to catch himself, his palm tapping the horse's rib cage before he stumbled backward. For the briefest of moments, Fu could have sworn he saw the Drunkard rooted firmly to the earth.

  “Come here!” shouted Captain Yue. “You—”

  The horse suddenly fell over. Captain Yue went down with it.

  “ARRRR!” screamed Captain Yue as the full weight of the horse fell upon one of his long, skinny legs.