‘I wanted to give her a good whipping. But then … then it wasn’t her I was whipping, each and every lash was aimed at me myself, at my incredible, my stupid folly! When I came to myself and realized what I was doing, she was lying there, dead. I dragged her body to the garden, and found Soong standing by the back gate. Without saying a word he helped me carry her to the cherry tree, and bury her there. When he had levelled the ground, he spoke up. Told me that we would keep the secret-together. I said never. That by helping me to conceal the body he had become an accomplice to murder, and that he better make himself scarce. He slunk away. I thought I had to protect myself in case the body should ever be found, and forced the lock of the garden gate. The two silver candlesticks I buried under the altar in the chapel.’
She heaved a deep sigh. Turning again to the sergeant, she said softly:
‘I offer you my apologies. You discreetly waited outside when I went into the silver shop here three days ago. There I ran into Soong. He whispered to me that now that his anonymous letter was apparently insufficient to bring me to the scaffold, he was going to take other measures. But perhaps I’d like to talk things over with him first. I promised I would visit him at midnight. Out of consideration for me, Sergeant, you hadn’t posted one of your men at the door of my room. I slipped out of the inn, and went to Soong’s lodging. After he had let me inside, I killed him. With a compass saw I had picked up from the rubbish heap in the alley. Well, that’s all.’
‘I am very sorry, madam,’ the sergeant said. With an impassive face he began to unwind the thin chain he carried round his waist.
‘You were always good at improvising on the spot.’ A deep voice spoke. It was the Academician. He had got up and now stood there behind his chair, an impressive figure, tall and broad in his flowing brocade robe. The light of the lampions hanging from the eaves fell on his haughty, set face, the pupils very large against the white of his rolling eyes. He carefully straightened his robe, then said casually, ‘However, I don’t want to owe anything to a common whore.’
“Without apparent haste he stepped over the low balustrade.
The poetess began to scream, high, piercing screams. Judge Dee jumped up and sprang to the balustrade, with the sergeant and Sexton Loo close behind him. From the darkness deep down below came only the faint sound of the stream gushing through the gorge.
When Judge Dee turned away, Yoo-lan’s screams had stopped. She stood there at the balustrade, stunned, beside the Court Poet. Magistrate Lo was issuing quick orders to the housemaster. The greybeard nodded and rushed down the steps. The poetess went back to the table. Sitting down heavily she said in a toneless voice:
‘He was the only man I ever loved. Let’s have a last drink together. Soon I’ll have to say good-bye. Look, the moon has come out!’
When they were seated at the table again, the sergeant stepped back and stood himself against the farthest pillar. His two men joined him there. While Judge Dee silently refilled Yoo-lan’s cup, Magistrate Lo said:
‘According to my housemaster, there’s a footpath farther on, leading down into the ravine. A few of my men are going down there now, to look for the body. But it’ll probably be found a mile or so downstream, for the current is very fast.’
The poetess put her elbows on the table. She said with a wan smile:
‘Years ago already he had elaborate drawings made for a magnificent mausoleum, to be erected in his native place, after his death. And now his body …’ She buried her face in her hands. Lo and the sexton looked in silence at her shaking shoulders. The Court Poet had averted his face; he was staring at the moonlit mountain range, his eyes wide. Then she let her hands drop.
‘Yes, he was the only man I really loved. I liked the poet Wen Tung-yang, he was generous, and good company. And a few others. But Shao Fan-wen was here, right inside me, under my skin. I fell in love with him when I was nineteen. He made me secretly leave the house I was working in, refused to buy me out. When he was through with me, he left me without a penny. I had to make a living as a cheap whore, for, having fled from the house in the capital, my name was on the black list, so that I couldn’t enter any high-class establishment anywhere. I fell ill, nearly starved. He knew, but he couldn’t have cared less. Later, after Wen Tung-yang had put me on my feet again, I tried to get him back, several times. He shoved me out of his way, as one pushes away an over-affectionate dog. Did he make me suffer! And I never ceased to love him.’
She emptied her cup in one draught. Giving Magistrate Lo a pitiful look, she resumed:
‘When you invited me to stay with you, Lo, I said no at first, because I thought I would never want to see him again … hear that pompous voice again, see that …’ She shrugged. ‘But when you really love a man, you love even his vices. And so I came. It was torture to be with him, but I was happy… . Only when he ordered me to compose an ode to our “happy reunion” did I lose control of myself. My humble apologies, Lo. Well, I was the only person alive to whom he could freely boast of his evil deeds. And he was responsible for many; he said he was the greatest man that ever lived, and therefore entitled to experience every sensation a man’s body and mind are capable of. Yes, he seduced General Mo’s concubine, and when the general had discovered it, Shao denounced him. Shao had been thinking of joining the conspiracy, but realized in time it was doomed to failure. He knew all the general’s accomplices, but they didn’t know him! The Censor praised Shao for his good advice-Shao told me that with relish! The general kept silent about him during the trial, because he had no written proof of Shao’s interest in the conspiracy, and because he was too proud to bring up the adultery-and, anyway, the concubine had hanged herself, so that the general didn’t have any proof in this case either. Shao loved to tell me about that old affair… . This spring he came to see me in the White Heron Monastery, for he liked nothing better than to gloat over the people he had reduced to misery. That’s why he always made a point of visiting his illegitimate daughter in the fox shrine here, every time he passed through Chin-hwa. Told her she was leading a splendid life, with her loyal lover and her foxes.
‘Well, what I said just now about my whipping that maid to death was perfectly true. Only read Shao for Soong. I never met that unfortunate student, only heard about him from Shao yesterday. Poor Saffron had told Shao everything about Soong, you see. Shao went to Soong’s lodging late at night, knocked on his back door and told him he had information on General Mo’s case. The student let him inside, and Shao killed him with an old carpenter’s compass saw he had found among the rubbish by Soong’s garden gate. He told me he had a dagger with him, but that it was always better to use a weapon found on the spot. That’s why he killed the dancer with the scissors. Shao’s only worry was that Soong might have got hold of evidence regarding Shao’s adultery with his mother, perhaps old letters or something. He searched Soong’s lodging, but there was nothing. Pour me another cup, Sexton!’
After she had emptied the wine cup, slowly this time, she went on:
‘Needless to say, after Shao had helped me to bury the maid’s body, I didn’t tell him to go away! No, I begged him, begged him on my knees, to stay, to come back to me! He replied he was sorry he hadn’t seen me whipping her, but that it was his duty to report me to the authorities. He went away, laughing. I knew he would denounce me, and therefore I laid that clumsy false trail. When I was told about the anonymous letter, I knew that Shao had written it, and that he wanted to destroy me. He knew my stupid, abject devotion, knew I would never tell on him, even if my life depended on it!’ Shaking her head despondently, she raised her hand and pointed at the pillar. ‘See how I loved him! That poem there I composed when we were still together.’
Suddenly she glared at Judge Dee and snapped:
‘When you were drawing your treacherous noose about him tighter and tighter, it was as if you were strangling me! Therefore I spoke up. Piecing together what I knew, I tried to save him. But you heard the last words he said.’
S
he set her wine cup down and rose. Putting her coiffure in order with a few deft movements of her shapely hands, she resumed casually:
‘Now that Shao is dead, I could of course have said that it was he who whipped the maid to death. He was quite capable of doing just that. But now that he’s dead, I want to die too. I could’ve thrown myself into the gorge after him, but that would have cost the sergeant there his life. Besides, somehow or other I have my pride too, and although I’ve done many things I shouldn’t have done, I have never been a coward. I killed the maid, and I am going to take what’s coming to me.’ Turning to the Court Poet, she said with a faint smile, ‘It has been a privilege to have known you, Chang, for you are a great poet. You, Sexton, I admire, because I’ve come to know you as a truly wise man. And I am grateful to you, Lo, for your staunch friendship. As to you, Magistrate Dee, I am sorry I snapped at you just now. My relationship with Shao was doomed to come to a disastrous end sooner or later, and you only did your duty. It’s all for the best, for now that Shao had retired and could move about more freely than before, he was planning new evil deeds to keep himself amused. And I am finished anyway. Good-bye.’
She turned to the sergeant. He put the chains on her and led her away, followed by the two soldiers.
The Court Poet sat hunched up in his chair, his thin face a sickly grey. Slowly rubbing his forehead, he muttered:
‘I’ve a splitting headache! And to think that I had been longing for a really shattering experience!’ He got up and said brusquely, ‘let’s go back to town, Lo.’ Suddenly he smiled bleakly. ‘Heavens, Lo, your career is made! The highest honours are in store for you, you’ll be …’
‘I know what’s in store for me right now, sir,’ the small magistrate interrupted dryly. ‘Namely to sit at my desk for the rest of the night, writing my official report. Please go ahead to the palankeen, sir, I’ll be with you in a moment.’
After the poet had gone, Lo gave the judge a long look. His lips twitching, he stammered:
‘That … that was terrible, Dee. She … she … ‘ His voice broke.
Judge Dee laid his hand lightly on his colleague’s arm.
‘You shall finish her biography, Lo, quoting every word she said just now. Thus your edition of her works will do full justice to her, and she shall live on in her poetry for generations to come. You go down together with Chang, for I’d like to stay here for a while, Lo. I need a little time to sort things out in my mind. Get the clerks to prepare everything in the chancery. Presently I shall join you there, give you a hand with drawing up all the official documents.’ He looked after the departing magistrate for a while, then turned to the sexton and asked, ‘What about you, sir?’
‘I’ll keep you company, Dee. Let’s draw up our chairs to the balustrade, and enjoy the moon. We’ve come here to celebrate the Moon Festival, after all!’
The two men sat down, their backs to the half-cleared table. They were all alone in the pavilion, for as soon as Magistrate Lo had left, the servants had slipped away to the kitchen in the forest, eager to discuss the strange happenings.
The judge silently stared at the mountain range opposite. He thought that in the eerie moonlight he could nearly distinguish every single tree. Suddenly he said:
‘You are interested in Saffron, sir, the guardian of the Shrine of the Black Fox. I regret to inform you that she got rabies and died this afternoon.’
Sexton Loo nodded his large round head.
‘I know. When I came up the mountain path I saw a black fox, for the first time in my life. Had one glimpse of its lithe, long shape, its sleek black fur. Then it streaked into the bushes and disappeared… .’ He rubbed his stubbly cheeks, making a rasping sound. Still looking at the moon, he asked casually: ‘Did you have definite proof against the Academician, Dee?’
‘Not a shred, sir. But the poetess thought I had, and it was she who solved everything. If she hadn’t spoken up, I would have blustered on for a while, my argument would have petered out with a vague theory. The Academician would have called it an interesting exercise in deduction, and that would’ve been the end of it. He knew perfectly well, of course, that I didn’t have any proof against him. He killed himself not because he feared legal action, but only because his gigantic, superhuman pride would not allow him to live with the knowledge that someone pitied him.’
The sexton nodded again.
‘It was quite a drama, Dee. A human drama, where foxes happened to act a part. But we shouldn’t look at everything from the limited point of view of our small world of man. There are many other worlds, overlapping ours, Dee. From the point of view of the world of foxes, this was a fox drama, where a few human beings happened to act a minor part.’
‘You may be right, sir. It seems to have begun about forty years ago, when Saffron’s mother, then a young girl, brought a small black fox home. I don’t know.’ The judge stretched his long legs. ‘I do know, however, that I am dog-tired!’
The other gave him a sidelong look.
‘Yes, you’d better rest for a while, Dee. You and I, each in his own chosen direction, have still a long way to go. A very long and weary way.’
The sexton leaned back in his chair and looked up at the bright moon with his bulging, unblinking eyes.
Postscript
JUDGE DEE was a historical person; he lived from 630 to 700 A.D., and was a brilliant detective and famous statesman of the Tang dynasty. The adventures related in the present novel are entirely fictitious, however, and the other characters introduced imaginary, with the exception of the poetess ‘Yoo-lan’. For her I took as model the famous poetess Yü Hsüan-chi, who lived from ca. 844 to ca. 871. She was indeed a courtesan, who after a checkered career ended her life on the scaffold, accused of having beaten a maidservant to death; but the question of whether she was guilty or not has never been resolved. For more details about her career and her work, the reader is referred to my book Sexual Life in Ancient China (E. J. Brill, Leyden, 1961), pp. 172-175. The poem quoted on p. 155 of the present novel was actually written by her.
As regards some aspects of Chinese literary life mentioned in this story, it may be worth reminding the reader that for nearly two thousand years in China competitive literary examinations constituted the principal gate to a government career. Every citizen could take part in these examinations, and although, naturally, the sons of the well-to-do had better opportunities to prepare themselves for these tests than the sons of poor families, the fact that everyone who passed, regardless of social status and private means, was given an official appointment at once, lent the government system a democratic touch, and had a levelling influence on Chinese society. Literary achievements played a predominant role in social life, and among those calligraphy ranked very high; higher, as a matter of fact, than painting. This will be readily understood if one remembers that Chinese characters are largely ideographs which are painted rather than written; one can legitimately compare calligraphy with Western abstract painting.
The three creeds of China were Confucianism, Taoism and Buddhism, the latter having been introduced into China from India in the first century A.D. Most officials were Confucianists with a sympathetic interest in Taoism, but largely anti-Buddhist. In the seventh century, however, a new Buddhist sect was introduced from India, which in China was called the Ch’an sect, and it absorbed many Taoist elements; it denied the Buddha as a saviour and declared all holy books useless, teaching that enlightenment must be found within one’s own self. This doctrine was favoured by Chinese eclectic literati, and became popular also in Japan where it is known as Zen. Sexton Loo of the present novel was a Zen monk.
Chinese fox-lore dates from before the beginning of our era, and throughout the ages figured largely in Chinese literature. For more information on fox-magic I refer to The Religious System of China, the monumental work by the Dutch sinologue Prof. J. J. M. de Groot, Volume V, Book 2, pp. 576-600 (E. J. Brill, Leyden, 1910).
In Judge Dee’s time the Chinese did not wear
pigtails. That custom was imposed upon them after 1644 A.D. when the Manchus had conquered China. The men did their hair up in a top-knot, and they wore caps both inside and outside the house, taking their head gear off only when going to bed. To confront another person with one’s head uncovered was a grave insult, the only exception being Taoist recluses and Buddhist priests. In the present novel this point is brought out in the murder of the student Soong.
In the Tang dynasty the Chinese did not smoke. Tobacco and opium were introduced into China many centuries after Judge Dee’s time.
—Robert van Gulik
About The Author
Robert H. Van Gulik, a world renowned orientalist, made a hobby of writing Chinese detective stories set in the time of the Tang Dynasty. He entered the Netherlands Foreign Service in 1935, serving in various posts in China, Japan, East Africa, Egypt, India, Lebanon, and the U.S. From 1965 until his death in 1967 he was the Netherlands ambassador to Japan. POETS AND MURDER is his last full length story about Judge Dee.
Robert Van Gulik
The Judge Dee Mysteries
The Celebrated Cases of Judge Dee
The Chinese Maze Murders
The Chinese Bell Murders
The Chinese Lake Murders
The Chinese Gold Murders
The Chinese Nail Murders
The Haunted Monastery
The Red Pavilion
The Lacquer Screen
The Emperor’s Pearl
The Monkey and the Tiger
The Willow Pattern
Murder in Canton
The Phantom of the Temple
Judge Dee at Work
Necklace and Calabash
Poets and Murder
A Chronology of the Judge Dee Books
Poets And Murder Page 16
