Messiah Clears the Disc

by Henry Lion Oldie

  The judge was not superstitious. But he could not neglect the things that were going on in Tianxia: the epidemic of Buddha's Madness that has affected his family too, dead men coming out of their graves (he didn't believe at first, but happened to see one with his own eyes!), evil spirits roaming in broad daylight, animals acquiring intellect, and not the usual were-foxes but vulgar badgers... Even if two thirds of these cock-and-bull stories and gossip were fictitious the rest of the facts was quite enough to feel unquiet.

  Thus the suspicion was to be verified immediately.

  So Bao went at once to Lan Daoxing, an old acquaintance of his, who has helped the judge in many similar situations.

  Fortunately, the Iron Hat has not yet left Ningo for the mountains where he used to prepare his pills of immortality.

  The judge had hardly entered the wizard's temporary abode and opened his mouth in order to tell the reason of his coming when the old man said turning to him and nodding in affirmation:

  – She's a demon. A spirit of some woman who had hanged herself. She's looking for a new body to enter into it and be born anew. Take this gourd and sprinkle the evil spirit with its contents; all spells would dissipate at once and you'll see her true image. Then take the broom made of peach twigs that stands in a corridor corner of your house and drive her away. The spirit won't ever try to come back.

  With these words the magician handed the judge a small vessel. The judge swallowed some air, unable to find necessary words; it was difficult to get accustomed to the surprises of the wizard and to call him openly a friend.

  – Thank you, saint Lan, – was all he dared to say. – If ever you'll need something...

  – I know, – Lan Daoxing smiled a little, hiding his cunning small eyes under the shaggy brows. – And now don’t tarry. The demon has already almost charmed your son.

  The reverend Bao hasn't ran so swiftly since his youth! But now he didn't care whether it was decent for his social position and post that did not imply such sports at all: his son was in danger, and he had to come in time!

  And he did it.

  The girl, smiling guiltily, was already fastening a fashionable girdle under the lintel, and his dear boy, his Wen stood on a stool trying unconsciously to reach the beams. Just at this moment Bao the Dragon's Seal, out of his breath, broke into the western outhouse uncorking in haste the gourd given to him. The girl recoiled, frightened.

  And when the mixture of unparalleled stench (there were rancid oxen, swine and ram blood, human urine and various other components, unknown to the judge but none the less aromatic) sprinkled her, the veil of the devilish delusion fell off the eyes of all who were present.

  The First Son Wen stood at the stool as an utter fool and was ready to put with his own hands a noose made of a tattered rope on his neck, and a half-rotten corpse with a deep mark of a rope on its neck was wriggling and coiling convulsively at Wen's side. The sharp-clawed fingers have already torn off the elegant red kerchief. It might have been quite a charming girl when alive, just such as the judge and his son have seen a few minutes earlier. But now, with her hair disheveled and her tongue hanging out of the mouth, about a foot long, she was horrid...

  The moaning dead was expulsed out of the house with the help of the peach broom to seek a body for her next regeneration somewhere in other places. The judge had a talk with his son and explained him how the decent young men should behave. Everything was all right again, the demon didn't come any more, but the judge remained unquiet. Something went wrong in the Tianxia...

  For, isn't it indeed true to say:

  All decent men

  remained in the past;

  None in the future

  would equal them;

  I feel the boundless

  Earth and heavens,

  I mourn in solitude

  And shed my tears.

  – ...so the illustrious Zhou-wang expects you, the highly respected xiangyigong, to unravel this mysterious case. Let me humbly transfer to you the written order of the illustrious Zhou-wang giving you corresponding powers, – the official bowed and handed the judge a scroll written in formal kaishu letters with the seal of the prince stamped on red wax.

  The judge was obliged to stand up, to bow and take the scroll expressing aloud the doubt that the contemptible Bao would be capable enough to cope with such an important mission and then for some long minutes to listen to all kinds of assertions and expectations of the noble wang expressed by his master of ceremonies until the latter went away at last.

  Hardly had the door closed indeed after the worthy follower of Kongzi and his later commentators, the judge Bao sighed heavily and unrolled the scroll.

  He was given more emergency powers than he expected. Significantly more. Plus several blank tallies for the judge to fill in as he would think best. Plus the permission inserted inside the scroll... The judge Bao hoped very much that he wouldn't be obliged to use THIS permission. Yes, he was now allowed to do many things, too many even for "the lord who maintains undauntedness". But in case he failed the punishment would be especially severe; the judge understood this perfectly well. Well, it was necessary to pay to this case foisted to him as much attention as possible although in real earnest Bao preferred (Heavens knew it!) to investigate a recent case of murder: some rich merchant who came to Ningo on business was found just yesterday with his belly cut open in one of the town pools.

  But, as a poet said, "the dreams of the spring are far in the heavens".

  Judge Bao sighed heavily once more and went to make the examination of the corpses.

  3

  Everything was clear as to the corpses of the soldiers, the dog, the bodyguards and taiwey: broken necks and backbones, crushed sculls and other mortal injuries were simply the result of the battle. And each of them had but one wound; this fact made the judge to conclude that the killer was an experienced warrior who wasn't used to strike twice one and the same adversary, for is it reasonable to strike somebody who's already dead?

  The body of Eighth Aunty, the culprit of the carnage, initially did not present any difficulties too: the cut-off throat was quite clear an evidence. And all witnesses were almost unanimous in their testimonies; the perspicacious Bao took care in advance to cross-examine them and to collect material evidence. At the same time he didn't forget to send one of his detectives to interrogate the dyer Mao and his numerous relatives as well as those of Eighth Aunty if any such (relatives, and not Aunty!) did exist. Even before the coming of the master of ceremonies the judge had felt that this case would be his, and such premonitions have seldom deceived him; that's why he decided to begin the investigation immediately. For it is well known that the success of investigation depends on the time of its beginning: when you go hot on the heels of a criminal the pieces of evidence have not yet disappeared, the witnesses are still at hand, and their memory is quite fresh.

  Of course, it will be necessary to order the physicians of the town office to make the autopsy and other analyses to determine whether the respected married woman was acting under the influence of some venomous substance. But it was rather improbable; the judge doubted it while looking long at the calm and peaceful face of the dead Eighth Aunty and shook his head: she seemed to have died as one who had honestly fulfilled his duty. It was hard to imagine such a potion that could convert the humblest wife of the dyer Mao to a master of fighting arts capable to knock down a half of the prince Zhou’s guards!

  Moreover, it would be easy to understand if the killer dashed at Zhou himself, but she preferred to break the back of the favorite dog of the favorite concubine and, satisfied with this heroic deed, cut her own throat eagerly!

  Could she have hated that tiny dog to such extent as to send so much people over to join it?

  Well, if you dislike the animal, throw a stone to hit it from afar...

  The judge Bao disliked such cases. He solved them as well as all other ones but didn't like them. With usual murders, mugging and forgery it was clear from the very
beginning whom to search for and where, while the cases of this kind never allowed to know in advance what facts would be disclosed this time, whose pet corn you'd tread on and who would feel worse in the end: the criminal or the excessively diligent investigator?

  Naturally, the investigators of the Eighth Aunty's corpse have found out and recorded the fact that the criminal had died because of the cutting of her throat committed by the aforesaid criminal herself; further, that the wife of the dyer Mao had never been trained in any special warrior exercises besides washing and other homestead activities. It was confirmed by the evidence given by her relatives; being very afraid of tortures and thus very talkative all of them were repeating unanimously that Eighth Aunty had just vague notions of fighting without taking into consideration periodical beating of her drunken husband. And once again: forty or even more years of calm, inconspicuous life, no secrets: husband, children, home work, chatting with neighbors...

  No, such woman could not kill about two dozens of the best guards of Zhou-wang including his personal bodyguards and taiwey in few minutes even for the sake of the most loathsome little dog in the world!

  Nevertheless, the fact was quite evident.

  The judge Bao stood for some more time near the dead body and was already going to leave when his glance fell by chance at the stretched arm of the woman. Bluish putrefaction spots began to show through at her forearm, and it was quite natural, but the form of these spots was strange, it reminded the judge of something very familiar...

  Judge Bao bent down, gazing attentively and all of a sudden seized the other cold arm of the deceased and turned its palm up.

  There it was, without any doubts!

  At the forearms of the humblest Eighth Aunty there were dimly visible, as if tattooed by the death, the figures of tiger and dragon: distinguishing signs of warrior monks who passed through the Labyrinth of mannequins impassable for others in the Shaolin monastery in the land of Henan!

  Just such tattooed figures, but branded with fire, were at the arms of the venerable Zhan Wo, the head of the Emperor's secret office, and the venerable Banh supervising Zhou-wang.

  4

  Judge Bao had awful headache. The drug prescribed by his doctor, usually very helpful, did not give any relief this time. Dull, tiresome ache was pulsing in his temples, his thoughts were confused; the judge could do nothing besides looking automatically through the pile of applications and complaints and other papers on his table glancing distractedly at the accurate rows of hieroglyphs but not understanding the essence of the written texts.

  Xiucai [9] Xingge the Third was droning on under his breath at another table in the far corner of the room. He was as dull and tiresome as the headache with his hair swarmed-down and all his efforts to look younger than his real age. He has been sitting at this place for about ten years being unable to pass the examinations necessary to obtain the grade of jüren [10] . The reason of this was the "narrow-mindedness irremediable by any diligence", according to the opinion of some of his examiners.

  Xingge the Third reminded the judge a xiucai from an old story who had once stayed to rest in a local temple and lay there naked wanting to cool himself. But it was a bit too cool in the temple (dedicated to a deity of Soil) and the xiucai caught a cold. Having brought some sacrifices to the altar of this deity he recovered but considered the situation to be abusive. So the xiucai wrote a detailed report accusing the deity of Soil of having forced him to bring sacrifices by ruse; then he burned his report at the temple of the protecting spirit of that place. There was no answer. Xiucai waited for ten days and then wrote another report accusing the protecting spirit of neglecting his official duties and burned it at the temple of the Jade Lord. At night the xiucai had a dream: he saw a fiery inscription on the wall of his house made in ancient rounded letters. The inscription read:

  "The deity of Soil who discredited his rank is to be dismissed from his post. The protecting spirit is to obtain a penalty written down in his dossier. Xiucai What's-his-Name will obtain thirty blows of canes in about a month for his disregard for the spirits and inclination to lawsuits."

  And quite so the story ended very soon.

  But now Judge Bao was not inclined to jokes: in his thoughts he was still looking at the two arms of the dead woman.

  Of course, when alive, Eighth Aunty had not any dragons or tigers at her arms; this fact was confirmed both by her husband, the dyer Mao, and by the numerous relatives, as well as by the still more numerous neighbors. Any signs of some magic or medicinal potions were not found too. The judge had once more examined the corpse in the presence of the chief town physician, got sure that the strange putrefaction spots did not vanish, on the contrary, they became even more distinct, and ordered to write this fact down to the record of evidence. After that he went heavily to his office and was now sitting there in an awful mood and with his head unbearably sore.

  – ...imagine, the highly respected xiangyigong, he didn't take anything in the house of jüren Tong but tore to pieces his favorite tiger-stripped orchid that the worthy jüren Tong had planted according the Bahua canon...

  – Who was it? – asked the judge feeling no real interest, just for distraction. He has turned a deaf ear to all previous parts of the long and variegated story of the loquacious xiucai.

  – Well, the burglar himself! – Xingge the Third exclaimed gladly, happy that his boss has at last heard his tale and even seemed to become interested in it. – He tore off the favorite tiger orchid of jüren Tong and then pierced his own breast with a gardener's knife, just into the heart! When jüren Tong had heard about all this, he almost got a stroke, – continued xiucai, very content, because he didn't like Tong who was luckier than he (and, to say sincerely, quite haughty). – He was so sorry because of the orchid... So now he won't go to the Capital; and your substitute, the worthy Fuh, ordered to cut off the arms of the crazy burglar who has committed suicide and to nail them to the pillory at the town square in order to teach the others not to do so again.

  – Was the burglar identified? – asked the judge flaccidly; his headache became a bit lesser, may be due to the drug or just by itself.

  – Yes, he was indeed! His name was Fang Yushi, a seller of sweets, everybody knows him, a most honest man, unlike other sellers! That's why I was saying: he must have gone crazy. I used to buy rice buns sprinkled with caraway seeds from him, and now I really don't know where to find them! You surely have already noticed, the highly respected xiangyigong, that things are going wrong in our vicinities, well, and people say that in the whole Tianxia...

  The judge interrupted xiucai:

  – Why didn't Fuh report all this to me?

  – He didn't want to bother you, the highly respected xiangyigong! For the case is quite clear, the criminal is known and besides he's dead...

  But Judge Bao has diverted again his attention from the chatter of Xingge the Third.

  These two silly happenings had something in common, something that made them two adjoining links of a chain, and Judge Bao felt the familiar hunting fervor, the state of mind when you begin suddenly to discern some fragments of the puzzle in the senseless collection of facts, insignificant details, pieces of evidence and testimonies, matching with each other, coinciding at completely unexpected angles, and you understand the right thread is in your hand and now you need only to pull at it, to pull carefully lest you don't tear it...

  The violent and seemingly senseless deed of Eighth Aunty crowned by her suicide; and the equally inadequate doings of the respectable merchant Fang Yushi resulted in his heart being pierced. That's the point: the both cases were seemingly senseless and ended with the initiator's suicide!

  – I'd like to have a walk in the square, – the judge murmured rather to himself and went slowly out of his office.

  – Are you the highly respected xiangyigong Bao?

  The question was excessive: only a blind could take the judge Bao for somebody else in Ningo.

  The judge turned around wi
thout haste. He recognized at once this elderly monk in an orange cassock too. Venerable Banh, a member of secret service, a bit of bodyguard and surely a spy watching the illustrious Zhou-wang. However, he didn't manage to do anything during the recent carnage.

  Didn't manage?

  Didn't want?

  – Yes, it's me, venerable father, – nodded the judge joining his palms respectfully under his breast. – It's just as the saying goes: you know all things, both explicit and secret ones! I just was going to meet you and talk a little. As far as I know, you had taken monastic vows and then were trained at the famous monastery under the Song mountain? Happy indeed is the cloister the patriarch of which was personally invited to the ceremony when our ruling Emperor Yong Le, the Son of Heavens, ascended his throne, be he alive forever! It seems to me that the Son of Heavens ordered to transfer the capital from Nangjing Beijing just following the advice of the Shaolin patriarch. Was it really so?

  – The knowledge of "the lord who maintains undauntedness" is worth admiring, – the monk bowed his head modestly, but this modesty could not deceive the judge.

  Venerable Banh couldn't have met him by chance!

  – Then I'd like to ask you to show me, as unworthy as I am, the holy signs of tiger and dragon on your arms. I hope the monastery rules don't forbid this?

  – Oh, no, the highly respected xiangyigong, just on the contrary! – the monk smiled, clearly flattered by this request of the judge Bao, for it was expressed in such a submissive tone. – Of course you can look at them! Here they are...

  And he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

  The highly respected xiangyigong examined for some time quite carefully the images shown to him (they were branded by fire on the forearms of the monk) and then asked innocently:

  – Please tell me, the venerable Banh, can anybody have such signs besides the monks who had passed their tests in the Shaolin monastery?