by Ian Morson
Finally, both women came to the cell door, and my language teacher jumped up, ready to chase Jianxu if she decided to make a run for it. But she didn’t. In fact she looked very relaxed for someone whose execution had only been delayed. If I could find no fault with the judgement passed down by Li Wen-Tao, and confirmed by Taitemir, she would still be beheaded. And a beautiful head it was too, with thick, black hair braided and hanging down her back, and a pale face with exquisite almond eyes. She stared at me as Gurbesu crossed the courtyard towards me, and I smiled. And even though her face remained impassive, I suddenly wanted with all my heart for her to be innocent. Gurbesu saw where I was looking, and stood in my line of vision.
‘Do you want to know what I learned from Jianxu? Or does it not matter any more?’
I grinned inanely at her.
‘Of course. Tell me everything.’
‘She says that she doesn’t know how the soup that killed Old Geng was poisoned. She admits to making it, but not with the aim of killing Geng. In fact, she says she made the soup for her mother-in-law, Madam Gao.’
‘So she intended to kill her?’
Gurbesu snorted and shook her head.
‘No! Do pay attention, Nick. She made the soup because Madam Gao felt unwell. It was a broth to nourish and revive her spirits, as she hadn’t eaten for two days. Old Geng saw her taking it to Madam Gao, and told her to give it to him. He was hungry, he said. She was annoyed, but couldn’t show it, and obediently gave Geng the soup. She went back to the kitchen to make some more, and the next thing she knew, the boy . . .’
‘Wenbo.’
‘Yes, Wenbo came into the kitchen saying his father was dying. That he was complaining of cramps and numbness at the same time, and was vomiting. Wenbo said his father had tried to rise from his bed but his limbs wouldn’t move. He begged Jianxu to come and help. When they got to the old man’s room, he was lying in a foul pool of his own internal fluids. He was already dead.’
‘That ties up with the doctor’s report on the body. I saw it in Lin’s files on the case. It said that, from the symptoms observed, aconite or wolfsbane must have been added to the soup. If so, it would have been an unpleasant death.’
I could see over Gurbesu’s shoulder that Jianxu still stood in the doorway of her cell. She had not moved a muscle as Gurbesu and I had been speaking, and I had the feeling she was a person very much in control of her emotions. In fact, she made me feel uneasy for a moment. Taking Gurbesu’s arm, I led her a little way away from the prison. When I no longer felt we were being observed, I looked Gurbesu in the eye.
‘If she claims to be innocent, did she say why she signed a confession?’
Gurbesu nodded, her thick, dark hair swirling round her face.
‘Yes. She did it to spare Madam Gao being tortured as she, Jianxu, had been by the prefect. Her feet and legs are only just now healing.’
‘You see what I mean about torture? It rarely provides you with the truth. So the girl claims not to be the poisoner now. Does she have any idea who might have been? Who could have got in the kitchen to doctor the soup?’
Gurbesu pulled a face.
‘She wouldn’t say, but I thought she had an opinion. You know what these Chinee women are like. True to the Three Duties of women: obedience to your father before marriage; obedience to your husband after marriage; and obedience to your son after your husband’s death. Obedience, obedience, obedience, grrrrrr.’
Gurbesu growled, and if I hadn’t been already leaning with my back against the tree trunk, I would have backed off. She was a tiger in this sort of mood. Instead of retreating, I asked her another question.
‘Do you believe everything she told you?’
She had to pause and think about that. We watched as the gaoler closed and locked the cell door on Jianxu, leaving her as a pale face outlined by the grille. Finally, she answered me.
‘I think so.’
‘But you are not sure?’
‘Everything she said was so precise and considered. As though she had rehearsed it.’
I shrugged.
‘Not surprising. She has been taken through the story many times, and often under duress with her feet tied up and being beaten. She would have ended up telling the prefect anything he wanted to hear. He could even have prompted her. And since being incarcerated to await our arrival, she has had weeks to think about what she would say.’ I paused before asking the final question. ‘Is she innocent?’
Once again, my favourite Kungurat pondered the question. She pursed her full, red lips.
‘Mmmmm. Too early to tell. I am going to reserve judgement.’
That was one split vote, then. And I respected Gurbesu’s intuition. But anyway, she was right. It was early days, and we needed to gather a whole lot more information. I took Gurbesu’s arm, and we walked away from the prison.
‘Let’s go back to the house, and see what Lin and Tadeusz have found out.’
The girl watched from behind the door of her cell, which had once again been locked securely. She watched as the red-haired man and the strange woman walked away. She had never experienced such an odd pair. The demon looked as though he would scare anyone into submission, but the dark-skinned woman had brushed him aside as if he didn’t matter. He had then sat with her gaoler while the woman spoke to her. The girl had assumed the woman was the demon’s wife, though she didn’t behave like any Chin wife. They had spoken at first in her native tongue, but mostly they had conversed in the tongue of the Mongols who had conquered her native land many years ago. The true emperor still lived, somewhere in southern Song, but the Mongols were pressing ever southwards. It was inevitable that the barbarian hordes would win, and she had picked up as much of their tongue as she was able. It had now served her well.
The woman had probed for the facts of the death of Old Geng, and she had told her story well, she thought. She felt she had convinced the Kungurat of her innocence. When the woman, who called herself Gurbesu, had asked if she had any idea who had killed the old man, she had hesitated. Just like a good, obedient woman, she had demurred, not accusing anyone directly. But she thought she had convinced Gurbesu that she did suspect someone. So she knew the demon and his wife would be back.
‘Li Wen-Tao could tell me nothing that was not in the official records already. I could tell he was toeing the party line. He even had the nerve to refer me to Taitemir, knowing of course that even a Chin official as highly connected as I am could not contradict a Mongol. It was a waste of my time. How about the girl?’
We had met up over a meal in Lin’s rooms, which were, as usual, far better organized than any of ours. Mind you, he had a servant, and I would have expected nothing less of Lin. He always surrounded himself with serenity, whereas I thrived on chaos. We complemented each other in that way. Before I answered his question, I looked at Gurbesu. Did she want to voice her opinions directly? She gave a little shake of her head, which left me, as ever, in her debt. She knew I needed to maintain my position as the main investigator, even amongst our little group. So it was I who replied to Lin’s question.
‘She did no more than confirm what was in the documents we already have. Her story has not changed. So there is nothing new yet. But it is only the beginning. We need to talk to the son and the old lady . . . what’s her name?’
‘Madam Gao.’
‘Yes, we need to speak to her. And maybe I can have a go at the prefect myself.’ I grinned wolfishly. ‘I can be a mite rougher than you, Chu-Tsai. Besides, I want to appeal to his baser instincts.’
Lin frowned a little, though his face was normally impassive and didn’t show too much about his inner workings.
‘What have you in mind, Nick?’
‘It is better that you don’t know. Then you can keep your hands clean.’
Lin settled back on his couch, looking somewhat out of sorts, and I took charge of the meeting. I looked over at Tadeusz, who had been very quiet during my exchanges with Lin.
‘What abo
ut you, Tadeusz. Did you learn anything in the marketplace?’
Tadeusz Pyka tugged at his beard, and seemed not sure where to begin. Finally he put into words what he had learned by chatting to the tradesmen he had met.
‘I wandered around a few of those big squares we came through when we arrived. I reckoned that one of them had to accommodate workshops. I found the one for doctors and astrologers first. They teach reading and writing there too, you know. I saw a local magistrate settling an argument between two doctors who, from what I could tell, were disputing the efficacy of something called dang gui.’
Lin nodded his head.
‘Yes. It’s also called female ginseng, and I believe it’s used for all sorts of women’s complaints.’
‘The argument seemed to be about whether it should be boiled or steeped in wine.’
Gurbesu laughed.
‘I would prefer the last method.’
‘The magistrate resolved the matter, but by then the client – an older woman – had walked away. So neither doctor gained from arguing. Anyway, the next square I came to was the craft square. They say there were twelve guilds represented, and each workshop employed up to forty men. It was certainly a busy and bustling square, and I could see some men had got quite wealthy from the trade. I went to the silversmiths’ quarter – you can always find it by the sound.’
I knew what he meant. The tap-tap of small hammers on silver plates is a distinctive noise, like the sound of tiny bells.
‘They were all Chinee, and reluctant to talk at first. But when I spoke about their techniques, and showed them that I was one of their guild, some of them spoke freely. Working in the trade, they knew some Turkish and we got on fine. They wanted to know about Xanadu and Tatu, and what it was like working for the Great Khan. I confess that, as I looked around at all the industry of these men, I was suddenly missing my own workshop and my tools.’
Pyka looked fondly off into the distance, no doubt thinking of a time when he was a silversmith in Breslau and had a wife and children. I had never known him so homesick – it was over twenty-five years since the Mongols had swept through his town like avenging angels. I had thought he was over the tragedy. He suddenly focused on me and looked crestfallen.
‘Sorry.’
I patted him on the shoulder encouragingly. I just prayed he wasn’t going to cry on mine. I was not good with women and emotions, but of necessity coped – with other men and emotions I was hopeless. He drew a breath, however, and carried on.
‘When I got a chance I asked them about Pianfu, and how the Mongols had affected trade. They were a mixed bunch, and some said things had picked up recently, that they were far enough away from the capital not to be bothered too much with the bureaucracy. Others quietly complained that the lord of the region wanted the finest work but didn’t want to pay for it. But they wouldn’t raise their voices in complaint too loud in case Taitemir got to hear. But one old man said bitterly that local officials collaborated too much with the Mongols. He mentioned the prefect specifically, and the case of Jianxu. There were some mutterings, but I believe everyone thought the case badly handled and the judgement harsh. Apparently Old Geng Biao, the murdered man, did lots of business with Taitemir’s people. And it is said they owed him money, leaving Old Geng short of funds.’
My ears pricked up at this revelation.
‘Did they owe enough for them to want him dead?’
Tadeusz pulled a face, though only one side responded. The burned left side of his face was tight and expressionless. It gave him a lopsided look, but he was used to the stares of others by now.
‘I am not so sure of that. The Mongols don’t care whether they pay for the goods they receive or not. Why should they then go out of their way to kill one of the many to whom they owe money?’
In a way I was relieved that Pyka thought that way. I was reluctant to investigate Taitemir and his cronies too closely. But the time might come when we had to. I stored Pyka’s nugget of information in my brain, and reached for my cup of wine. Friar Alberoni coughed gently. I had not asked him for a contribution to our debate because I did not think that he had anything to offer. But maybe he had found out something.
‘Friar, is there something you wish to add?’
Alberoni studied the ground at his feet closely, and pursed his lips.
‘Not exactly. But there is a matter I need to raise with you. I feel I am superfluous to your investigations here.’ Before I could protest, he raised a hand. ‘It is true. And I have deceived you somewhat concerning my intentions.’
The rest of the people in the room stirred and murmured half-suppressed questions of their own. Alberoni looked around, a pleading look on his face.
‘I know what you all think of my quest here in the East . . .’
His pause was enough for me to realize what he was about to say. He had come to Kubilai’s empire in order to find Prester John, the supposed Christian monarch from the East, who was to save Western Christianity. As I mentioned before, he had met a man who fitted the bill, only to lose him soon after. Clearly, he was still hoping to find him again. I nodded sagely.
‘Prester John.’
‘Yes. He is not a myth, as you imagine. We all saw him in Xanadu, a prisoner of Kubilai’s family.’
‘We saw an old man. That is all.’
I was unconvinced of the man’s identity, and looked around at the others for support. Lin’s face was impassive, and Gurbesu and Pyka looked away, not wishing to disappoint the friar. Alberoni stared feverishly into my eyes, and I gave up.
‘Very well. You think you can still find him. But what made you come with us, then?’
A big smile wreathed the friar’s face.
‘Two days travel west of here is a grand castle named Caichu, built by a man called the Golden King. He was vassal to Prester John, and once rebelled against him only to be humbled. And I have heard that twenty miles west of the castle is the river Hwang-Ho, that you called Kara-Moran, Niccolò. That river flows from the lands of Prester John.’ He held the thumb and forefinger of one hand close together. ‘I am that close to finding him again.’
I could not deny the friar his quest. He was going to the castle whatever I would say to him. But I offered him a warning, nevertheless.
‘You need protection, Alberoni. You will be close to where Kubilai’s forces are fighting those in the south.’
‘No. I need no one – I have God’s protection.’ He touched my arm. ‘I shall be back in a week. Two at the most. You will have solved this matter by then, and we will rejoice at our joint good fortunes together.’
I shook his hand, thinking how much I would regret his departure. We were like chalk and cheese, he and I. But he was my last connection with Venice, and Caterina Dolfin. I would miss him. After making his brief farewells with the others, the friar left to pack his bags, and make the preparations for his journey. I drank deep of the Chinee wine.
TEN
Better do a good deed near at home than go far away to burn incense.
Kubilai has created a magical thing. As a trader, I cannot believe the audacity of the concept. It is as if he has mastered the art of alchemy. But it is a sort of reverse alchemy, because he does not convert base metal into gold. Instead, he changes gold and silver, pearls and precious stones, into paper. This paper is made from mulberry bark, which is crushed and pounded flat. Then it’s cut into oblong sheets which are signed on by high officials of the Khan’s court, and then the impression of the Khan’s seal is impressed on the paper. Different types and sizes of paper are worth different amounts, and people are happy to exchange the paper as though it is real gold or silver. The magical part, from my point of view, is that though the Khan usually exchanges merchants’ precious goods for this paper, he can print as much paper money as he likes. Of course, if someone else forges the paper money, he would expect to be executed. Believe me, I have thought of that fraud myself.
The day after Lin had interrogated Li Wen-Tao, the pre
fect, I was on my way to see him. I took a satchel full of paper money with me – money supplied by Kubilai to fund our mission. My approach to the prefect this time was somewhat more conciliatory than my first entrance. Then, I had played the demon come to shake Li up. Now I wanted him to see me as his friend. Or at least as his compatriot in crime. I rode to the house by the river and dismounted, letting my horse be led away by one of Li’s servants. I slid the carved doors open and bowed as I entered the large, open room beyond. Li Wen-Tao sat as before in the centre of the room on a raised platform to emphasize his superiority. I had deliberately dressed in Chinee clothes rather than Mongol ones, and chosen a modest blue robe to match his own. For the time being I wanted him to see me as an equal, not as a visiting dignitary from the court of the Great Khan. He eyed me with suspicion, his little dark eyes looking like currants pressed into uncooked dough. He was eating from a small bowl with chopsticks made of ivory. Cautiously, not knowing what to expect of me, he indicated a seat beside him. I sat on it, and murmured something deferential with lowered eyes. Still his look was one of uncertainty. I didn’t blame him – I could have been leading him into a trap. I fed him a couple of my new Chinee words, and then tried him with the Mongol tongue. If he served Taitemir, he was bound to understand it.
‘I believe you convinced my master yesterday that all was in order concerning the case of Jianxu. He said he could find nothing to take you to task with. I congratulate you, Master Li.’
