Necklace and Calabash: A Chinese Detective Story (Judge Dee Mysteries)

by Robert Van Gulik

  ‘Was that Colonel kang?’ he asked the lieutenant.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He led the judge to the first courtyard where the same black palankeen that had fetched him from the Kingfisher stood ready. He stepped inside and was carried out through the high gates.

  When they had crossed the broad marble bridge over the moat, Judge Dee pulled the window-curtain aside to let the evening air cool his flushed face. It had been a tremendous relief that his faked paper had passed muster. But how must he interpret the suspicious attitudes of, first, the Chief Eunuch and, just now, the Superintendent? Did these high officials always adopt such a hostile manner towards strangers visiting the palace? Or were they perhaps implicated in the theft of the necklace? No, he was letting his imagination run away with him! Of course it was out of the question that high-ranking officials of the Imperial Court would stoop to connive at a theft! Money meant nothing to them, why should they risk… Suddenly the judge sat up straight. Could it be that the pearl necklace was the gage in some complicated court intrigue, some subtle power struggle between opposing court cliques? That would explain why the Princess had kept the purpose of his visit secret from even her two closest servants, the Chief Eunuch and the Superintendent. On the other hand, if one or both had a special interest in the necklace, and suspected that he had met the Princess and been informed of the theft, why had they let him go without a really thorough questioning? To that question there was an obvious answer. They had only let him go because they didn't dare to oppose the Princess openly. They planned to have him eliminated outside, in a manner that could be conveniently explained as an accident. He felt under the bench. His sword was gone.

  At the moment he made this unpleasant discovery, the palankeen was lowered to the ground. A tall man in black pulled the door-curtain aside.

  ‘Please descend here, sir. Just follow this road, and you'll be in town in a few minutes.’

  It was not the same foreman who had come to fetch him. Judge Dee stepped down and quickly looked around. They seemed to be in the middle of the pine forest. The bearers stared at him with impassive faces.

  ‘Since the town is so near,’ he told the foreman curtly, ‘you had better carry me to my inn. I am tired.’ He moved to re-enter the palankeen; but the foreman barred his way.

  ‘I am very sorry, sir, but I have my orders.’ The bearers lifted the palankeen on their shoulders, turned it round quickly and trotted back the way they had come, their foreman bringing up the rear. The judge was all alone among the tall, silent pines.

  VII

  Judge Dee remained standing there for a while, pensively tugging at his long sidewhiskers. Serious trouble lay ahead, and there was very little he could do about it—except leave the road and try to get lost in the wood. But that wouldn't be much help either, for if assassins had been sent after him, they would be picked men thoroughly familiar with the terrain, and by now they would have thrown a cordon round this part of the forest. He decided to try to discover first whether his fears were well founded. There was a slight chance that the bearers were acting on the orders of the Lady Hydrangea, who for some reason or other didn't want him to be seen being carried back to town openly in a palace palankeen. And the sergeant at the gate might have inspected the palankeen, found his sword under the bench and confiscated it. He must do something to get it back, for it was a famous blade, made long ago by a great swordsmith, an heirloom treasured in his family for many generations. He pushed his flat box into the bosom of his robe and went ahead slowly in the shadow of the trees, keeping to the side of the road. There was no use in presenting a target to an ambitious archer.

  At regular intervals he halted and listened. There was no sign of anyone following him, but nor could he hear the faintest sound to indicate he was in the vicinity of the town. Just when he was about to turn a bend he heard a strange, snorting noise ahead.

  Quickly he ducked into the undergrowth and listened again. Now a twig snapped, a little further on. Carefully parting the branches, he worked his way through the shrubs until he saw a large, dark shape hovering among the pines. It was an old donkey grazing among the weeds.

  As the judge went up to it, he saw a pair of crutches leaning against the gnarled stem of a colossal tree by the roadside. Underneath it Master Gourd was sitting hunched on a moss-covered boulder. He still wore his patched brown robe, but his grey head was bare, the topknot covered by a piece of black cloth, the traditional headwear of the Taoist recluse. His calabash was standing at his feet. The old man looked up.

  ‘You are up and about at a late hour, Doctor.’

  ‘I went for a walk to enjoy the cool air. I must have got lost.’

  ‘Where's your sword?’

  ‘I was told it was perfectly safe to go about unarmed here.’

  Master Gourd sniffed.

  ‘I thought you'd have learned not to believe everything people say. As a doctor.’ He groped behind him for his crutches. ‘All right, I shall be your guide again. Come along, you won't have any trouble keeping pace with this ancient mount.’ He tied the calabash to his belt, and climbed on the donkey.

  Judge Dee felt relieved. With a well-known figure as Master Gourd as witness, the enemy wouldn't risk an open attack. After they had been going along for a while, he said with a faint smile:

  ‘When I met you this afternoon in the woods on the other side of the town, you gave me something of a shock, you know! My eyes were sore, and the light bad. For one brief moment I thought I was seeing my double.’

  Master Gourd reined in his donkey.

  ‘Don't speak lightly of grave matters,’ he said reprovingly. ‘Nobody is one; all of us are an aggregate of many. But we conveniently forget our less satisfactory component parts. If one of those should manage to slip away from you, and you would meet it, you'd take it for a ghost, Doctor. And a very offensive ghost too!’ He paused and listened. ‘Talking about ghosts, don't you think we are being followed?’

  Now Judge Dee, too, heard something moving about in the undergrowth. Quickly grabbing one of the crutches, he whispered:

  ‘If we are attacked, you just clear out. I can look after myself; I am a stickfighter. Don't worry!’

  ‘I am not worried, for nobody can harm me. I am just an empty shell, Doctor. Have been for many a year.’

  Three men jumped out onto the road. They wore coarse jackets and trousers and their hair was bound up with red rags. All three had swords, and two brandished short pikes. While one of them grabbed the donkey's reins, another raised his pike and barked at the judge:

  ‘Better behave, bastard !’

  Judge Dee was about to lunge with the crutch when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the small of his back.

  ‘Don't do that, dogshead!’ a voice growled behind him.

  ‘Put my crutch back, Doctor,’ Master Gourd said. ‘I need them both.’

  ‘What do we do with the old geezer, boss?’ the pike-wielder asked.

  The man behind the judge cursed. ‘Take him along too. It's just his bad luck.’ Again the judge felt the point of the sword in his back. ‘Walk on, you !’

  The Judge decided that he couldn't do anything, for the moment. The scoundrels were paid assassins rather than ordinary robbers, and he was sure he could handle their kind. He walked on, saying only, ‘I hope we won't meet a patrol. For your sakes, I mean.’

  The man behind him guffawed.

  ‘The soldiers have other things to worry about right now, you fool!’

  The ruffians drove their prisoners along a narrow side-path. One led Master Gourd's donkey by the reins, a second followed with a pike, while the two others walked behind Judge Dee.

  The path led to a clearing. A low brick building stood among the trees. They went to the second building that looked like a deserted godown. The man in front let go of the donkey's reins, kicked the door open and went inside. Soon a cone of light appeared. ‘Get along!’ One of the men behind the judge drove him inside, prodding him with his sword.

  The godown
was empty but for a few bales piled up in a corner and a wooden bench in front of some pillars to the right. The light came from a candle in a niche in the wall. The judge turned round and saw now the leader of the ruffians. He was a hulking man as tall as himself, with a coarse face framed by a stubbly ring-beard. He carried a long sword. The two others, one wielding a pike and the second a sword, were mean-looking, powerfully built fellows. The judge went slowly to the centre of the room, watching for a chance to wrench a weapon from his captors. But they were evidently experienced men, for they kept him at a safe distance, their arms at the ready.

  Master Gourd came hobbling inside, followed by the second pike-wielder. The old man made straight for the bench and sat down. Putting his crutches between his knees, he told the judge:

  ‘Have a seat too, Doctor ! You might as well be comfortable.’

  Judge Dee sat down. If he made it look as if he had given up, he would stand a better chance of catching his enemies off guard. The leader was standing in front of the judge and Master Gourd; two others had taken up positions to the right and left of the bench; the fourth was standing behind Judge Dee, his sword ready. Testing the point of his sword with his thumb, the bearded leader said earnestly:

  ‘Me and my friends want you to know that we have nothing against you two. We do what we are paid to do, because that's the only way we can make our living.’

  The judge knew that this was the death sentence. Low-class scoundrels were superstitious; they always said this before killing their man, so as to prevent his ghost from haunting them afterwards and bringing them bad luck.

  ‘We quite understand that,’ Master Gourd said quietly. Then he lifted one of his crutches and pointed it at the leader with a trembling hand. ‘What I don't understand is why they chose an ugly brute like you for the job !’

  ‘I'll make you shut up, old wreck!’ the bearded man shouted angrily.

  He stepped up to Master Gourd. ‘First I'll…’

  At that moment the crutch suddenly became steady; it shot out, and its point bored deep into the bearded man's left eye. With a howl of pain he let his sword drop. Judge Dee dived to the floor and grabbed it, the weapon of the man behind him grazing his shoulder. The judge was on his feet in a second. He turned round and drove his sword into the breast of the other, who was about to stab Master Gourd from behind. Pulling the sword out of his opponent's sagging body, the judge saw the bearded leader rush at Master Gourd, cursing obscenely. Judge Dee just had time to see Master Gourd's crutch shoot out again with lightning speed and land right in the giant's midriff, when he had to jump back and parry the blow the second swordsman aimed at his head. There was one pike-wielder left. He raised his weapon to throw it at the judge, but Master Gourd hooked the crooked end of his crutch round the man's ankle. He toppled to the floor, dropping his pike, which the old man drew towards him with a deft movement of the crutch. The bearded giant was rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach and emitting strangled sounds.

  The judge found that his opponent was an experienced swordsman. He had to do his very best to counter the man's confident attack. The judge's borrowed sword lacked the fine balance of his own weapon, the great blade ‘Rain Dragon’, but as soon as he had become accustomed to it he drove his opponent back into a position from where he himself could keep an eye on the other two ruffians. For the moment, however, he had to concentrate on his own fight, for his opponent was executing a series of clever feints, alternated with dangerous thrusts.

  When the judge had gained the advantage again, he cast a quick look at Master Gourd. The old man was still sitting on the bench, but now he had a sword in his hand. He was parrying the thrusts of his attacker with astonishing skill. The bearded giant was staggering to his feet, trying to support himself against the wall. Judge Dee's opponent was quick to utilize the moment of inattention. He penetrated Judge Dee's guard with a long thrust to the chest. Before the judge could side-step, the point of the sword grazed his forearm. It would have pierced his side, but the flat leather box which the judge had stuffed into his robe caught the blow and saved his life.

  The judge stepped back, his sword shot out, and with a series of swift feints he succeeded in regaining the offensive. But blood was trickling down from the wound in his forearm, and his lack of training began to make him short of breath. Now he would have to finish off his opponent as quickly as possible.

  Lightning-quick, he shifted his sword from his right hand to his left. Like all superior swordsmen he was ambidextrous. Momentarily confused by the new angle of the attack, his opponent dropped his guard and the judge planted his sword in his throat. As the man fell backwards, Judge Dee rushed to help Master Gourd, shouting at the attacking swordsman to turn and defend himself. But suddenly the judge froze. Dumbfounded, he stared at what was an amazing spectacle.

  The swordsman was leaping furiously about the seated man, showering him with lightning thrusts. But Master Gourd, leaning with his back against the pillar, parried every blow accurately, in a relaxed, unhurried manner. Whether the attack was aimed at his head or his feet, the old man's sword was always there just in time. Suddenly he lowered his sword, gripping the hilt with both hands. As his attacker lunged at him, he brought the sword up again, holding the hilt against the bench between his knees. The man could not check himself. As he fell forward, the old man's sword buried itself deep in his midriff.

  The judge turned round. The bearded leader was coming for him, a crazed look in his one remaining eye. He had picked up a pike, and now aimed a sweeping thrust at Judge Dee's head. The judge ducked and drove his sword up into the other's breast. As the bearded leader sank to the floor, the judge bent over him and barked:

  ‘Who sent you?’

  The giant looked up at the judge with his one rolling eye. His thick lips twitched.

  ‘How…’ he began. A stream of blood came gushing from his mouth, his huge body was shaken by a convulsive shudder, and then he lay still. Judge Dee righted himself. Wiping his streaming face, he turned to Master Gourd and said panting:

  ‘Thanks very much ! That brilliant first move of yours put their leader out of action and saved the day !’

  Master Gourd threw the sword into the corner. ‘I hate weapons.’

  ‘But you handle them with amazing skill! You met your opponent's thrusts so accurately, it seemed as if the points of your swords were joined by an invisible chain !’

  ‘I told you I am only an empty shell,’ the old man said testily. ‘Being empty, my opponent's fullness flows automatically over into me. I become him, so I do exactly as he does. Fencing with me is like fencing with your own reflection in a mirror. And as pointless. Come over here; your arm is bleeding. A sick doctor is a sorry sight.’

  The old man tore a piece of cloth from the dead giant's robe. Having expertly bandaged Judge Dee's forearm, he said, ‘Better have a look outside, Doctor. See where we are, and whether our late lamented friends were expecting anyone!’

  The judge went outside, his sword ready.

  The donkey was grazing peacefully in the clearing, bleak in the pale moonlight. There was no one about. When he had inspected the building opposite, he found there were other godowns behind it. Having rounded the corner of the last one in the row, he saw the river before him. They were at the extreme east end of the quay. Slinging his sword, he walked back.

  About to enter the godown, his eye fell on the inscription over the door: ‘Property of Lang's Silk Firm’.

  Pensively he smoothed his long beard. His bathroom acquaintance owned a silk shop in Rivertown. Since Lang was not a common name, the godown must belong to that inquisitive gentleman. Master Gourd came hobbling outside on his crutches.

  ‘We are at the end of the quay.’ Judge Dee told him. ‘The whole place is deserted.’

  ‘I'll go home, Doctor. I am tired.’

  ‘Please pass by the blacksmith at the corner of the fish-market, sir. Ask him to send a man with my horse. I'll have another look at the dead men; then I'll have
to report the attack to Headquarters.’

  ‘Good. If anyone there wants my testimony, they know where to find me.’ The old man climbed on his donkey and rode off.

  Judge Dee went inside. The raw, smell of the blood and the sight of the four dead men made him feel sick. Before searching them, he had a closer look at the bales in the corner. He slit one open with the point of his sword and found it did indeed contain raw silk. Then his eye was caught by dark stains on the bench he and Master Gourd had been sitting on. The stains looked uncommonly like blood, spilt not so long ago. Under the bench he found a few thin ropes, also caked with dried blood. Then he turned to the dead men and searched their clothes. None of them had been carrying anything but a few coppers. He took the candle from the niche and scrutinized their faces. They looked like city hoodlums rather than highwaymen. Professional killers, efficient and probably well paid. By whom? Putting the candle back, he remembered the paper the Princess had given him. With index and middle finger he wormed the document from the lining of his collar. Unfolding it under the candle, he sucked in his breath. At the top of the document appeared the Emperor's personal seal, of vermilion colour and three inches square. Underneath was written in chancery hand that the bearer was temporarily appointed Imperial Inquisitor, vested with full executive powers. The date and Judge Dee's own name were added in the small elegant calligraphy of a lady. Below was the seal of the President of the Grand Council, and in a corner the personal seal of the Third Princess.

  He folded the document carefully and put it back in the lining. That the Emperor had entrusted his daughter with an open edict of such tremendous import was eloquent proof of his unlimited trust and affection. It also constituted further proof that there was far more at stake than the theft of an Imperial treasure. The judge went outside, sat down on a tree-trunk and began to think things out.