The Old Dragon's Head

by Justin Newland

  It did occur to Gang that for Ru, it was about to get significantly worse.

  Without any prior warning, Thousand Cuts smashed Ru with a truncheon. The mighty blow would have cracked open a piece of granite, let alone Ru’s head. The crowd winced.

  “Told you,” Suitong said, with the air of a person who was often right but equally often ignored.

  Gang had to admit – Ru was either mad or just horrendously stubborn, or possibly both. That truncheon blow would have mashed most people’s resistance to a pulp. Instead, Ru sat there rocking back and forth in some morbid dance.

  A woman’s soft voice broke the uneasy silence. “Ru. I’m here with you… right now. Stand up, please.”

  Ru looked up and there she was; Luli. His mother. Though her hair bun was untidy, it was held with black lacquer pins. She wriggled her way through the people blocking the way and knelt next to him.

  “Ru, my darling,” she said, wiping away the blood from his forehead with the sleeve of her robe. She kissed him on the cheek, like only a mother can.

  “Did you see father?” Ru’s voice was weak, but full of pride.

  “Did… I… see… who?” Luli said, pulling away from her son and staring at him like he was a Taoist Immortal.

  “Heng’s ghost. He’s guarding the wall, protecting us,” Ru repeated. “Father’s army vanquished the phantom Mongol cavalry. He’s a hero.”

  “He’s always been my hero, as have you,” Luli said, her voice quivering with emotion.

  Ru rubbed the back of his hand on her cheek.

  “Ru… you… can… speak,” she cried, bursting into tears, her chest heaving. “Thank you.” She whispered a prayer. Gang doubted the gods had heard it. They were probably busy elsewhere that day.

  Had he a stitch of compassion left in his life’s tapestry, Gang, too, might have shed a tear.

  As Liu raised the lash above his head, Ru eased himself up and started walking. Liu put the lash down.

  “Arrest her!” Bao shouted. Luli surrendered without resistance. The constables confined her in the dock with the others.

  “Don’t worry,” Bao sneered, “we’ve brought along a spare cangue just for you.”

  Renshu came into the yard and joined Gang on the podium.

  “Major, welcome,” Gang said.

  “My honour,” the major replied. “I came to enjoy the entertainment.”

  “Good,” Gang nodded and then leaned in to ask the major, “Do you know what happened to Sheng and Qiang? And the explosives?”

  The major shook his head. “No, I don’t. I thought you might.”

  Bao said with barely disguised glee, “I’ve a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?” Gang replied. “What’s that, I wonder? I do like surprises.” He licked his lips lasciviously, a subtle act that brought back vivid memories of the last nights’ frolicking with the Orchid sisters. He still couldn’t decide whether he preferred black or white – or both together. He’d try to decide again tonight and made a mental note to thank Bao for introducing them to him.

  “Bring them in,” Bao shouted and two runners pulled a rickety cart into the yard. Bao tipped it at an angle and who should slide off the back of it, but a tawdry lump of no good by the name of Cui.

  “Oh, good show, Bao,” Gang said. “You excel yourself.” Gang was beginning to feel his old, thoroughly nasty, self again.

  It seemed like Cui was on his last campaign. He seemed only vaguely aware of what was happening. Blood was oozing through the bandages on his face and his back was bent double – not that that was going to induce any pity from him. The runners pushed and shoved Cui into the dock with the others.

  Gang stood up, cleared his throat and announced, “You are traitors. I am bringing you to justice for the heinous crimes you have committed.”

  Captain Feng did not agree. “Is that right? You think you can prosecute us with these trumped-up charges while Tung is injured and otherwise indisposed. Well, you can’t.”

  The crowd hissed. Gang wasn’t sure if the disrespect was directed at him or at Feng. Not that he cared; he could control the elements.

  “Oh, but I can,” he said, his voice dripped with scorn.

  Ru decided that, now he had his voice back, he could use it to air his pathetic opinions. Bad mistake. “You, Gang, are a spiteful, small-minded, unforgiving little rat,” Ru blurted out.

  Why did everyone think that rats were no good? He, Gang, quite enjoyed being one. On his nod, Thousand Cuts gave Ru a good thrashing. That quietened both him and the crowd, many of whom turned away in disgust.

  Gang was impressed with Liu. He appreciated his efficient dedication to purpose.

  “As I was saying,” Gang continued. “You are my prisoners. I have a duty to ensure that the law is upheld. Crimes against Heaven must be corrected in the appropriate manner.”

  “I want justice!” Suitong complained. “My name was on the prince’s New Year’s amnesty list. I should be free.”

  “And how do you know this?” Gang asked.

  “Captain Feng told me,” Suitong replied.

  “Suitong,” Gang replied, “you have lived a commendable life and have only committed several murders. Soon you will start a new life, I promise.”

  “I will?” Suitong turned with glee to Ru and Feng. “I told you he’d listen to my plea.”

  “Yes,” Gang confirmed. “When Liu separates your head from your body, you’ll be free to start a brand new life in a new body. Perhaps you’ll come back as a scorpion or better still, a viper. Now that would be fitting.”

  Suitong hung his head low. Gang shared a chuckle with Bao and Renshu. From the podium, Gang looked down on the criminal five. Of his enduring enemies, only the pestilential Abbot was missing.

  Bao announced the punishments, “People of Shanhaiguan, Ru is a thief. His right hand is to be severed at the wrist and he will wear a cangue for the period of one moon.”

  Ru’s head was fixed in the stocks and his hand tied onto the platter, horizontal, ready for the amputation. Liu unsheathed a huge sword and ran his finger along its length, an unnerving smile flickering on his face. The crowd were more terrified of Liu than his weapon.

  Thousand Cuts swished the sword above his head in a practice blow, before bowing to the podium and lifting the sword high in the air, poised to strike the single blow of amputation. The world paused; Heaven was determining what should happen. The ancestors were inclined one way, the spirits of karma the other. On earth, though, a man at the back of the seating stepped forwards into the middle of the yard.

  “Stop this,” he ordered.

  It was Kong; no longer beggarly, he was wearing a distinctive golden-yellow uniform with an identity tablet slung around his neck, portraying two dragons’ mouths holding a pearl.

  “That’s the uniform of a Jinyiwei,” Feng murmured.

  “How dare you interfere with the prince’s justice,” Gang shouted at him.

  “Justice!” Kong guffawed at this injunction and said, “Ru’s case is a gross injustice. The boy is clearly innocent. I can – and will – intervene.”

  “That’s nonsense.” Gang was livid and shook his finger at Kong.

  “No, it’s not,” Feng declared. “I know the law and so do you. The Jinyiwei are invested with the power to overrule local officials, like a county magistrate.”

  “Thank you, Feng,” Kong said. “And if you don’t believe my provenance,” Kong turned to Gang. “Here’s my sword of office.” With that, he unsheathed the long, curved blade – such were only granted to members of the Jinyiwei.

  Damn! Proof enough. Gang unleashed a scowl, “Is that the best you can muster?”

  “All right, then I propose this,” Feng protested, his eyes narrow with rage. “We are free to go, because Tung promised us all an amnesty.”

  “Save your brea
th,” Gang interrupted with an undisguised air of triumph. “Tung is not here and in this court, I alone have jurisdiction. Major Renshu is currently in charge of all military matters. Besides, Tung promised you an amnesty starting tomorrow.”

  There, that told them.

  CHAPTER 54

  The Conspiracy

  As you sow, so you shall reap.

  Nothing slips through the net of Heaven.

  ANCIENT CHINESE SAYING

  Bolin had guided the cart along the wall road and witnessed the extraordinary spectral battle. So, the Laolong was a compound of the ghosts of all the workers who had died in the wall’s construction. What a revelation. And they prolonged their usefulness into the afterlife, which was more than could be said for the mandarins, emperors, princes, consorts and the majority of Chinese officialdom; they all purported to serve the Zhongguo but behind the grand façade of office, they were steeped in greed, corruption and the self-interested abuse of power.

  Where was the rotten triumvirate, Renshu, Bao and Gang? The guards at the Zhendong Gate told him. By now, the cortège was a hundred long and composed of people from all walks of life; soldiers, candle makers, iron mongers, horse traders, umbrella makers, street urchins, tea sellers, ’kerchief makers. Genuine people who mourned Wing’s death and who cared with a passion about the destiny of the Zhongguo.

  As Bolin led them into the entrance to the punishment yard, he saw the Beggar King, Kong, dressed in different clothes to usual and regaling Gang, Renshu and Bao on a podium. Before Bolin could ask Kong why he was wearing an embroidered uniform, Gang strode across the podium, shouting, “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?”

  With the cortège behind him, Bolin was not going to be intimidated by this petty official. “I have come to put things to rights,” he said confidently.

  “Hah! Another do-gooder,” Gang scoffed. “Methinks this is one of the Duke’s plays, in which the characters are imposters, one and all. Guards, arrest this man.”

  Bolin ignored the man’s ravings and wheeled the cart into the open space in the middle of the yard. He and Master Wen placed the carpet on the ground and started to unroll it.

  “Stop that. The Great Ming Code has rules. You cannot bring a corpse here. It’s against the funeral rites,” Gang ranted, glowering at Bolin from the edge of the podium.

  “Why? What’s there to fear? It’s only a carpet.”

  “No. You can’t.” Gang was foaming at the mouth; wild beasts were tearing him apart.

  Bolin stopped unrolling the carpet with most of it open but with the cadaver still concealed in the final folds. He wanted the crowd to see the carpet’s snarling Blue Wolf motif. Then he declared, “People of Shanhaiguan. This is the moment an enduring mystery of twenty years is solved.”

  Gang crouched and threw himself at Bolin like a mountain lion. But Kong moved like a jaguar and deflected Gang’s attack, wrestled him to the ground, and twisted his arm behind his back.

  “Enough,” Kong hissed. “Let the man finish what he was saying.”

  “Thank you, Kong,” Bolin said.

  Everyone craned their necks.

  “Let the gods bear witness…” Bolin cried.

  He unrolled the final fold. Wing’s body was face up.

  “Behold, Dragon Master Wing,” a voice said. It was Dong, the Abbot, who had just entered the yard.

  The crowd gasped.

  Dong knelt down by Wing’s side, tidied his robes and laid his arms out to the side.

  When the crowd had quietened, Bolin went on, “Today is my birthday and the anniversary of the day Wing disappeared. For many days, he sent me messages from the spirit worlds, trying in desperation to tell me where his body lay. Today, I listened. Along the way, I have found myself. I am his soul successor and his successor as Dragon Master. His body was hidden in the Jade Chamber.”

  The crowd sucked in a collective gasp.

  Bolin narrowed his eyes and said, “No one could enter the chamber because the murderer placed a secret code on it. That code was revealed by the name of a man’s daughter and a flower – ‘Ju’ – chrysanthemum.”

  “Whose daughter is named ‘Ju’?” Dong asked.

  “This specimen,” Kong said, pointing at Gang.

  “Me? No,” Gang protested. Kong let him stand up.

  Kong called to a runner at the entrance, “Bring the prisoners forward and hand me the knapsack.”

  From a side entrance, several constables appeared with three men; Sheng, Qiang and Guanting.

  “Guanting,” Luli cried. “I knew he was a villain. I knew it!”

  “These three,” Kong continued, “are in cahoots with Gang. They are traitors to the Prince of Yan. When their plan to poison the prince failed, they set out to blow up the Zhendong Gate and let in the Mongols. For that, they needed explosives, which they bought from a man who met with Guanting in the White Mulberry Wine Bar.”

  “I was there and overheard the deal; who was that other man?” Feng asked.

  “This arch traitor,” Kong said, turning to the podium and pointing to Major Renshu.

  Even in the cold light of day, Renshu was unrepentant. “I did it for the Emperor and for Heaven.”

  “Hah! Drivel,” Kong scoffed at the man. “You weren’t driven by loyalty. Greed more like, when you sniffed those taels of silver; I’ve got them here.” Kong tipped up the knapsack and emptied out scores of silver taels onto the ground.

  The crowd swooned at the sight of all that traitor’s silver.

  The major bowed his head.

  “Tell us then, who bought the munitions from you?” Kong asked.

  The world stopped, as if it had been waiting with impatience for just this question to be asked and now it had, there was the opportunity to unlock the mysteries of the past.

  “I sold them to three men,” Renshu said. “Two of them are over there.” He pointed at Sheng and Qiang.

  “Bring them here,” Kong said. The constables pushed two men into the arena.

  “Please identify the third man,” Kong demanded.

  Renshu lifted his finger. “I sold them to him – Magistrate Gang.”

  “How can you believe the lies of an acknowledged traitor?” Gang yelled, pointing a finger at Bolin.

  “Me, a traitor?” Bolin guffawed. “It was you who murdered Abbot Cheng in the mountains. It was you who stuffed a Bagua medallion in his mouth. Once a rat, always a rat!”

  “Nonsense!”

  “Then explain this to me,” Bolin said. He was on a roll now.

  “What?” Gang sneered at him. “A snivelling recruit like you, how can you possibly add to this fantastical case against me?”

  “Listen and I’ll tell you. When I first arrived in the punishment yard, just now, how did you know who or what was wrapped in the folds of the carpet? I didn’t let on. Yet everyone heard you say ‘a corpse’. There’s only one way that you could know that – you put it there. Your guilt cried out over the twenty years.”

  The traitor ducked. With his hands over his head, the crowd pelted him with stones.

  “Take them to the cells,” Captain Feng ordered.

  CHAPTER 55

  Retribution of Heaven

  Say not that Heaven is so far, so high;

  Its servants, it is ever nigh;

  And daily are we here within its sight.

  THE SHI KING (BOOK OF ODES)

  That afternoon wore an air of tumult and triumph: the battle won, the enemy defeated, the traitors exposed. Only the Laolong awaited his full and complete homecoming into the labyrinthine chambers of the Great Wall. This time was special for Bolin, because he enjoyed the adulation due to the one true Dragon Master and keeper of the Dragon Pearl.

  In the Ming Dynasty calendar, the fifteen-day period between the new moon at the New Year and the first full moon traditionally c
ulminated in the Lantern Festival; a time dedicated to feasting with friends, cleaning the household and exchanging gifts. This year, the unpopular curfew and the battle had stifled those festivities, so now there was a sense of happiness, release and renewal, with the blooms of spring just around the corner.

  To a vigorous roll of the drums and a cascade of cymbals, the flag of victory was raised in triumph above the Yamen. Gusts of a strong breeze stiffened the flag on its mast and helped to disperse the odours of death that lingered on the battlefield.

  During the afternoon, the Duke and his players displayed their musical virtuosity and acrobatic skills to the amusement of all. After that, the strengthening wind ushered in dark clouds that towered over the mountains. Bolin’s fingers were numb and the tips of his nose and ears were like icicles.

  The clouds, heavy with moisture, were gathering with a foreboding that dampened the spirits of the crowd. The first drops fell, turning to snow and covering the landscape with a blanket of white. The mighty wind dislodged the Duke’s colourful hat, which he chased unceremoniously down Ox Bow Street. That was when the people took shelter from the coming storm, leaving only the street urchins and beggars outside.

  Gang paced his prison cell, trying to stay warm. What inclement weather. The cold filled his bones with frost and his lungs with an icy fog.

  Outside the cell, but inside the prison, Thousand Cuts stood braced against the chill.

  As dusk approached, Gang heard a woman’s voice in the alley by his outer cell window.

  “Ru, let me introduce you. This is Rosemary and this is Thyme.” It was Luli. What was she talking about?

  “They’re beautiful donkeys, mother,” Ru replied. Her stupid son was there too. The idiot! All that fuss over a few silver taels. Hah! He, Gang, would soon be free. He would have his revenge again. Then they would suffer. If not, he would come back in the next life and start again. He was not some candle that you could just snuff out and never relight; he was forever, revenge was forever and his friends were legion.