He went to the right wing of the first courtyard, and opened the narrow, red-lacquered door that gave access to the courtyard that Magistrate Lo had placed at his disposal. It was small, but a unity in itself, the high surrounding walls giving it a pleasant atmosphere of quiet privacy. In front of his spacious bed-sitting-room ran a gallery, two steps leading down into the square yard, paved with coloured tiles. In the centre was a small goldfish pond, with a rockery behind it. The judge paused for a moment on the gallery, under the red-lacquered beams of the overhanging eaves, and admired the charming scene. From the crevices of the rockery, covered with moss, grew tufts of slender bamboos, and a small shrub of shining red berries. Over the garden wall he could see the tall maple trees of the park surrounding the residence. A breeze rustled their foliage, aglow with the rich colours of autumn: red, brown and yellow. He estimated it was about four o’clock.
The judge turned round, pushed the sliding-doors of red-lacquered lattice-work open and went inside, making straight for the tea-basket on the side-table, for he was very thirsty. To his disappointment he found it empty. Well, it didn’t matter, for presently his two hosts would offer him tea. His immediate problem was whether or not to change. Both the Academician and the Court Poet were senior in age and rank, so properly speaking he ought to visit them as he was, in full ceremonial dress. On the other hand, neither of the two was occupying an official post at the moment. The Academician had gone into retirement a year ago, and Chang had resigned his position at Court, in order to devote himself entirely to editing a complete edition of his poetic oeuvre. If the judge visited them in his ceremonial dress, they might take that as an impertinence, as an attempt to stress that he, the judge, was an official in function whereas they were not. Heaving a sigh, he thought of the old proverb, ‘It’s safer to beard a tiger in its lair than to approach a high official’. Finally he decided upon a long-sleeved violet gown with a broad black sash, and a high square cap of black gauze. He hoped that this dignified but modest attire would meet with approval, and went outside.
JUDGE DEE VISITS THE ACADEMICIAN
The judge had noticed already that although the buildings of the front courtyard, including his own quarters, consisted of only one storey, those of the other courtyards further on had second floors, lined with broad balconies. Now he saw on the balcony of the tall building in the back of the main courtyard many boy servants and maids coming and going. Evidently they were making preparations for the dinner party there that night. He estimated that his colleague’s household personnel must count at least a hundred persons, and shuddered when he calculated the cost involved in maintaining such a palatial residence.
He hailed a servant, who informed him that Magistrate Lo had ceded his own library to the Academician, in the left wing of the second court, and assigned to the Court Poet the corner apartment of the right wing. The judge ordered the boy to take him to the library first. When he had knocked on the beautifully carved door panel, a deep voice called, ‘Come in!’
The judge saw at a glance that Lo had made his library into an attractive and comfortable retreat. It was a spacious, lofty room with broad lattice windows showing intricate geometrical designs that stood out against the spotless paper panes. Two walls were lined with well-stocked bookshelves, here and there interrupted by niches displaying a few choice antique bowls and vases. The furniture consisted of solid pieces of carved blackwood, the tops of the tables were of coloured marble, the chairs cushioned with red silk. Large vases mounted on ebony stands and filled with white and yellow chrysanthemums flanked the massive bench in front of the bookshelves. There a heavily-built, broad-shouldered man sat reading a book. He put the volume down and gave Judge Dee a curious look, raising one of his thick, tufted eyebrows. He wore an ample, sapphire-blue gown, open at the neck, and a black silk cap, decorated in front by a round plaque of translucent green jade. The long ends of the sash round his waist trailed down on to the floor. His broad, heavy-jowled face was framed by short sidewhiskers and a neatly trimmed ring beard, as was then the fashion at the Imperial Court, The judge knew that the Academician was getting on for sixty, but his beard and whiskers were still jet black.
Judge Dee stepped up to him, made a low bow, and handed him his red visiting-card respectfully, with both hands. The Academician cast a cursory glance at it. Putting the card in his capacious sleeve, he spoke in his rumbling voice:
‘So you are Dee from Poo-yang. Yes, young Lo told me that you were staying here too. Nice place, better than that cramped room in the government hostel I passed the night in. Glad to meet you, Dee. You did a good job in cleaning up that temple in Poo-yang. Made you a lot of enemies at Court, but also friends. All good men have both enemies and friends, Dee. No use trying to be everybody’s friend, gets you nowhere.’ He rose and walked over to the writing-desk. Sitting down in the armchair, he pointed at a low footstool. ‘Well, take that seat opposite me!’
The judge sat down and began politely:
‘This person has long been looking forward eagerly to an opportunity for paying his respects to Your Excellency. Now that …’
The Academician waved a large, shapely hand.
‘Let’s skip all that, shall we? We are not at Court here. Just an informal gathering of amateur poets. You write poetry too, don’t you, Dee?’
He fixed the judge with his large eyes, where the black stood out clearly against the white.
‘Hardly, sir,’ the judge replied diffidently. ‘I had to learn the rules of prosody, of course, when I was a student. And I have read our famous classical anthologies, so ably edited by you, sir. But I have written only one poem myself.’
‘The fame of many an illustrious man rests just on one poem, Dee!’ He pulled the large teapot of blue porcelain towards him. ‘You’ve had your tea already, of course, Dee.’ As the Academician poured himself a cup, Judge Dee got a whiff of delicate jasmine. After having taken a few sips, his host resumed, ‘Well, tell me what your poem was about.’
Clearing his dry throat, the judge replied:
‘It was a didactic poem, sir, on the importance of agriculture. I tried to compress seasonal directions for the farmers in a hundred rhymed stanzas.’
The Academician* shot him a quizzical look.
‘You did, did you? Why did you choose that, eh .. . rather peculiar theme?’
‘Because I hoped that such directions if put into verse, with rhythm and rhyme, might be remembered more easily by simple country folk, sir.’
The other smiled.
‘Most people would consider that a foolish answer, Dee. Not I. Poetry is indeed easy to remember. Not only because of the rhyme, but chiefly because it responds to the beat of our blood, and to the rhythm of our respiration. Rhythm is the bone-structure of all good poetry, and of prose too. Recite a few couplets from your poem, Dee!’
The judge shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘To tell you the truth, sir, I wrote it more than ten years ago. I am afraid I don’t recall a single couplet, at the moment. But I’ll send you a copy, if I may, for …’
‘Don’t trouble, Dee! Let me tell you frankly that it must have been bad poetry. If there had been a few good lines in it, you’d never have forgotten those. Tell me, did you ever read the “Imperial Rescript to the Officers and Men of the Seventh Army”?’
‘I know it by heart, sir!’ the judge exclaimed. ‘That inspiring message to a retreating army turned the tide of battle, sir! Those stately opening lines …’
‘Exactly, Dee! You’ll never forget that text, because it was good prose, the rhythm of which pulsated in the blood of every man at arms, from the generals to the foot-soldiers. Therefore people still recite it now, all over our Empire. I drafted it for His Majesty, by the way. Well, Dee, you must give me your views on local administration. I always enjoy talking with young officials, you know. Always consider it one of the many drawbacks of a high position at Court that we get out of touch with provincial officials. And I am especially interested i
n district problems, Dee. It’s the lowest administrative level, of course, but of basic importance.’ He slowly emptied his cup under the envious eyes of Judge Dee, carefully wiped his moustache and resumed with a reminiscent smile:
‘I started as a district magistrate myself, you know! Served in only one post, though, for then I wrote my memorial on judicial reform, and I was promoted to Prefect in the south, then transferred here to this very region! Hectic times those were, when the Ninth Prince rebelled, twenty years ago. And now we are in his old mansion! Yes, time flies, Dee. Well, then I published my critical notes on the Classics, and I was appointed Reader in the Imperial Academy. Was allowed to accompany His Majesty on the August Inspection Tour of the western regions. On that journey I composed my “Odes on the Szuchuan Mountains”. Still consider that my best poetry, Dee.’ He loosened the collar of his robe, baring his thick, muscular neck. The judge remembered that the Academician had also been a well-known wrestler and swordsman in his younger years. His host took up the book that was lying open on the desk.
‘Found this on Lo’s shelves, Counsellor Hwang’s collected poems on Szuchuan scenery. Visited the same places as I did. Very interesting to compare our impressions. This verse is quite good, but …’ He bent over the page, then shook his head. ‘No, this metaphor doesn’t ring quite true …’ Suddenly remembering his guest he looked up and said with a smile, ‘Shouldn’t bother you with all this, Dee! You’ve doubtless many things to attend to before dinner.’
Judge Dee rose. The Academician got up too, and despite his guest’s protests insisted on seeing him to the door.
‘Thoroughly enjoyed our talk, Dee! Always keen on hearing the views of young officials. Makes one look at things with a fresh eye, so to speak. See you tonight!’
Judge Dee walked hurriedly over to the right wing, for his parched throat was making him really long for a cup of tea. There were many doors along the open gallery, but he looked in vain for a servant to tell him which was the Court Poet’s room. Then his eye fell on a thin man in a faded grey robe who was feeding the goldfish in the granite basin at the end of the gallery. He wore a flat black cap with a thin red seam. Apparently one of his colleague’s stewards. The judge walked up to him and asked:
‘Could you tell me where I can find the Honourable Chang Lan-po?’
The other raised his head and looked him up and down with his heavy-lidded, strangely still eyes. Then a shy smile curved his lips, thin above the sparse, greying chinbeard. He said in a colourless voice:
‘He is here. I am Chang Lan-po, as a matter of fact.’
‘A thousand pardons, sir!’ Judge Dee quickly took his visiting-card from his sleeve and offered it to the poet with a low bow. ‘I came to pay you my respects, sir.’
The poet stared absent-mindedly at the card, holding it in his thin, blue-veined hand. ‘Most considerate of you, Dee,’ he said mechanically. Pointing at the basin, he resumed in a more animated voice, ‘Look at that small fish under the waterweeds in the corner! Do you notice the perplexed look in its large, bulging eyes? It forcibly reminds me of ourselves … bewildered observers.’ Then he lifted his hooded eyes. ‘Excuse me, please. Raising goldfish is one of my hobbies, you see. Makes me forget my manners. How long have you been staying here, Dee?’
‘I arrived the day before yesterday, sir.’
‘Oh yes, the Prefect held a conference of magistrates here, I heard. I do hope you are enjoying your stay in Chin-hwa, Dee. I am a native of this district, you know.’
‘It’s a beautiful city, sir. And I feel most honoured that now I have an opportunity of meeting its most distinguished and brilliant …’
The poet shook his head.
‘No, not brilliant, Dee. Not any more, unfortunately.’ He put the small ivory box with goldfish food back in his sleeve. ‘I apologize, Dee, but I feel a bit out of sorts today. The visit to my ancestral shrine made me dwell on the past …’ He broke off and darted a shy glance at his visitor. ‘Tonight, at dinner, I’ll brighten up a little. Have to, for my friend the Academician always draws me into involved literary arguments. He has a truly encyclopaedic knowledge of literature, Dee, and an unrivalled command of the language. A bit high and mighty, but …’ Suddenly he asked anxiously, ‘You have visited him before coming to me, I hope?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘Very good. I must warn you that despite his bohemian airs, Shao is very conscious of his exalted position, and quick to take offence. I am sure you’ll enjoy tonight’s gathering, Dee. With Sexton Loo present, there won’t be a dull moment! And it’s a rare privilege to meet our famous colleague who has suddenly become so notorious now. We must …’ He clapped his hand to his mouth. ‘Nearly spoke out of turn there! Our mutual friend Lo made me promise I wouldn’t tell you! Lo is fond of his little surprises, as you doubtless know.’ He passed his hand over his face. ‘Well, excuse me for not asking you inside for a cup of tea. I am really rather tired, Dee, ought to take a nap before dinner. I didn’t sleep well last night. The hostel was so noisy …’
‘Of course, sir. I quite understand!’ The judge took his leave with a bow, his hands respectfully folded in his long sleeves.
While walking down the gallery he decided that now that he had paid his official calls, he must try to get hold of Lo to report what he had learned from the maid in the tea-merchant’s house. And to get a cup of tea at long last!
Chapter 6
JUDGE DEE WENT to the counsellor’s office, and asked Kao to inquire whether Magistrate Lo could receive him. The counsellor came back after only a few minutes.
‘My master’ll be glad to see you, sir. In his private office back of here.’ Giving the judge a shy look, he added, ‘I do hope you’ll be able to cheer him up a little, sir!’
The small magistrate was sitting in a cushioned armchair behind a colossal writing-desk of polished ebony, staring moodily at the pile of documents in front of him. When he saw the judge he jumped up and shouted:
‘All those self-styled experts on the calendar in our Ministry of Rites should get the sack, Dee. At once! They don’t know their job. The fools marked today as a particularly lucky day! And since noon just about everything has been going wrong!’ He let himself down into his chair again, angrily puffing out his round cheeks.
Judge Dee took the armchair beside the desk and poured himself a cup of tea from the padded basket. After he had greedily emptied it, he refilled the cup, then leaned back with a satisfied sigh and listened silently to his colleague’s tale of woe.
‘First we got that nasty murder of student Soong, just after a copious repast, and that ruined my digestion. Then the lady in charge of the Sapphire Bower informed me that their best dancer is ill. I’ll have to make do for tonight with two second-rate ones, and for the main number I could only get a wench called Small Phoenix, and I didn’t like her looks. Silly face, and as thin as a beanpole! Push that tea-basket over to me, will you?’ He refilled Judge Dee’s cup and his own, took a sip and resumed, ‘Finally, that nice surprise I had thought up for you came to nothing. The Academician and the Court Poet will be terribly disappointed too. And it means we’ll be five at dinner. Besides you and me, Shao, Chang and Sexton Loo. An odd number at table means bad luck. And the calendar said specifically that this would be a lucky day. Pah! ‘ He set his cup down hard and asked peevishly, ‘Well, what’s the news about our murder case? The headman dropped in a few moments ago and reported that his men haven’t heard anything about a local ruffian being free with his money. Just as we had already expected.’
The judge emptied his third cup.
According to one of the maids who used to serve Soong, he had visited this city before. And apparently he had a girl friend here.’
Lo sat up. ‘The devil he had! But not in the Sapphire Bower, at any rate. I described him to the girls, and they had never set eyes on him.’
‘Second,’ Judge Dee continued, ‘I suspect that Soong came here for a special reason which he wanted to keep secret, and tha
t his historical research was just a pretext.’ He took the student’s notes from his sleeve and handed them to Lo. ‘These six pages are all the notes he made during those two weeks!’
Lo glanced through the notes. When he nodded, the judge continued:
‘Every afternoon Soong visited your archives, to keep up appearances. In the night he went out about his real business. The maid saw him slip outside, in a dark gown, and in a stealthy manner.’
‘Not a single clue as to where he went or what he did, Dee?’
‘No. The maid knows a waiter in a tea-house near-by who seems to be rather a gay blade, and he never saw Soong anywhere in that neighbourhood.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That maid firmly believes in fox-magic, you know. Maintains that Soong’s girl was in fact a fox, and murdered him!’
‘Oh yes, the fox plays an important role in local folklore, Dee. We have a fox shrine in the residence, it’s supposed to guard the premises. And there’s a big one on a piece of wasteland, near the south city gate. Place is haunted, people say. Well, we’d better keep the supernatural out of this, Dee! Case is sufficiently difficult as it is!’
‘I couldn’t agree more, Lo. You also reckon with the possibility that it was an inside affair, don’t you?’
‘Yes, indeed. Meng’s reputation is of the best, but that doesn’t mean a thing, of course. Might have known Soong when the student visited this district formerly. And Meng did quite a bit of detective work all on his own, Dee, just after his discovery of the dead body. And was very eager to pass his theory on to us. Easiest thing for Meng to walk round the block, and knock on his own garden door! And I don’t like this business about Soong having a girl friend. Don’t like it at all. Girls mean trouble.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Anyway, there are no sessions of the tribunal tomorrow, because of the Mid-autumn Festival. That gives us a little respite, at least.’
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