by Ian Morson
Li was still unclear where I was taking him, but he could sense something profitable at the end of all this, just as I had. I went on.
‘It occurred to me that if, say, the old priestess knew where Ho has hidden the items he has stolen, then she could tell the owners, who will be most grateful to the god. They will reward the god through the old woman.’
‘They will indeed. But what benefit is that to us?’
I had him for sure. He was looking for the scam already.
‘If Ho told you where the goods were, and you told the old woman, then she would feel obliged to share her spoils with you. As for me, I would only want a small amount for suggesting this to you. And by way of sealing our deal, I could . . . deposit some of my paper money with you.’
It put my hand in the satchel, and produced a bundle of black notes with the seals of reputable men. Li’s eyes widened. He made to take the money, but I held my hand over the top of it.
‘Of course, this is not a one-off deal. If any other thefts should come your way, we could make the same arrangements. As and when they happened.’
Li nodded eagerly, and I lifted my hand off the money. It disappeared as if by magic up his long and voluminous sleeve. My little moneymaking scheme was under way.
Lin seemed preoccupied when I got back to the house we were quartered in, and he called me into the room he had taken over as his private office. Papers lay scattered around in a way I had not seen before. Lin was usually so neat and meticulous. He saw me looking at the mess and apologized.
‘I have been busy this afternoon, and haven’t had time to get things straight. Let me call Po Ku and he can sort my papers out as we speak.’
He disappeared for a moment and when he returned the rangy Po Ku was following him. With some simple instructions from Lin, the youth began collecting the scattered documents. I was surprised Lin trusted him to understand the order in which they needed to be arranged, but he seemed to be satisfied Po Ku was doing as requested. He turned to me, a grim smile on his soft, oval face.
‘After I had finished making notes of our progress so far, I went to the actors’ theatre in the square.’
For a moment my heart sank. Had Lin divined the reason for my clandestine visit there? If he had, it would complicate matters no end. But to my relief he made no mention of my having been to see the troupe myself.
‘I wanted to speak to whoever had rewritten the words for the play we saw. There seemed to be so many veiled hints in the script, I was sure it had been intended that we heard them and investigated. I tried to speak to Tien-jan Hsiu, but he was rehearsing Guan’s play with most of the rest of the acting crew. I did manage to speak with the ticket-seller, but he could only tell me that the manager of the troupe was responsible for the scripts of the older plays. He goes by the stage name of P’ing-Yang Nu – slave from P’ing-Yang – and was playing the part of the executioner in Guan’s play. He too was onstage, therefore. I stood and watched for a while, having been told the man I wanted was the one with tattoos all over his arms and legs. He looked my way a couple of times, but wouldn’t come offstage. Then, when the rehearsal finished, he must have slipped away behind the shen-cheng– the backcloth – because Tien-jan came over to talk to me. And when I looked for Nu he was nowhere to be seen.’
‘A guilty conscience?’
‘Or fearful of going any further than he has done. Letting the words he wanted us to hear be spoken in public but understood only by us was clever. But it suggests he is afraid of being seen to speak directly to us. Never mind, we will find him. And when we do, he will have to tell us what he knows.’
I wasn’t so optimistic.
‘How can you be sure he knows anything? Could it not be merely coincidence, and you are reading too much into the lines you heard?’
Lin’s face hardened in a way I had not seen before. This case and its possible consequences were beginning to tell on him.
‘No. I am sure he knows more. You see, I checked some old posters I saw in the street. They had been partially torn down, or new ones had been pasted over them. But I could read enough of the posters to know that the troupe had been performing in Pianfu right at the time of Old Geng’s death.’ He looked triumphantly at me. ‘It proves they were here when the old man was murdered. Nu could have been seeking a loan – acting troupes are notoriously short of cash and need loans – so, at the very least, he could have seen something. He could have seen who the real murderer was, and not realized it until their return this time round.’
THIRTEEN
The palest ink is better than the best memory.
Lin and I kept our information about the theatrical troupe to ourselves for the time being. Not that there was much to divulge at the moment. But Gurbesu had returned, and needed to tell us all she had learned from Jianxu. As soon as she came through the door, we knew she had much to tell. Her eyes were bright, and her words flowed out like flood water down the Hwang-Ho river.
‘Jianxu has told me about when she and her mother-in-law went to live with Old Geng. It is a quite unbelievable story, except for one thing. I believe every word of what she said. In fact her whole life story is exceptional. Oh, where to begin.’
I took her arm and made her sit down. Then I gave her a cup of the local wine to calm her.
‘Take a deep draught, then a deep breath, and begin at the beginning. That is what we said we needed to do with this case. We have been dodging around picking up titbits here and there too much. We need the full picture. Start with how Jianxu came to be in the Gao household in the first place.’
Gurbesu looked from me to Lin and then to Pyka, who had come in just before the whirlwind that was Gurbesu had taken over.
‘You won’t believe me.’
Jianxu had obviously been patiently awaiting Gurbesu’s return for a long time. As she walked towards the prison along the long approach road, Gurbesu could see the pale face of the girl set against the darkness inside her cell. It was almost as though she had been standing there since the last time Gurbesu had spoken to her. She was staring through the grille in the cell door, her almond eyes unblinking in the afternoon sun. The bandy-legged guard scurried out from his post and unlocked the cell door without being asked by Gurbesu. The afternoon was tolerably warm, with only a hint in the air of how cold the autumn would soon get. Gurbesu drew the girl out of her cell. The gaoler was nervous, and took a step towards them, but Gurbesu’s stare froze him in his tracks. She took Jianxu’s arm and they sat under the shade of the lone tree opposite the cell door, just as I had done two days previously. Gurbesu called out to the guard to fetch them some water. Grudgingly, he went, and came back with a wooden pail and a ladle. The water in the pail was cool, and both she and Jianxu drank in turn from the ladle in silence. Their thirsts quenched, Gurbesu began her gentle interrogation.
‘How did you come to be living with Madam Gao?’
Jianxu stared off into the distance as though she were looking far away into her own past.
‘My father was a poor scholar, who had not yet taken his exams when his wife – my mother – died. I was seven years old, and of an age where I could be useful to a household. In order to finish his studies, my father offered me as a servant to Madam Gao. In return, she would give my father an amount of money sufficient to pay for his exams.’
Gurbesu stirred, uncomfortable at the implication.
‘In essence he sold you to Madam Gao.’
Jianxu did not flinch from the hard conclusion drawn by her interrogator.
‘It was a mutually convenient arrangement. Before he left, he pleaded with Madam Gao to be kind to me, and told me to be obedient. I think both of us kept our bargain. I served Madam Gao well, and she had no cause for complaint concerning my domestic duties. We did not talk much, other than when she gave me instructions, but then Madam did not seek or want a companion. Time seemed to pass with great speed. It was ten years later that Madam Gao’s son asked me to marry him, and I was pleased to do so. Once aga
in, it was mutually convenient. Sadly, he was a sickly person and our joining was never consummated. He took ill and died soon after we were married.’
Jianxu paused in her narration, and Gurbesu wondered about her apparent calm. How had she felt when her husband had died so soon after the wedding? Had she mourned for him? What feelings had coursed through her veins? She got an answer of sorts when Jianxu continued her story.
‘The Three Duties of a woman are obedience to her father, her husband, and to her son after her husband’s death. Sadly we had no son.’ Once again she paused, but only briefly this time. ‘But one of the Four Virtues says a woman should serve her in-laws. Madam Gao’s own husband had died a long time before, so my duty was to serve Madam Gao. This I did, and would still strive to do, if I were not in this prison.’
‘She sounds too good to be true.’
Gurbesu smiled sweetly, but insincerely, at my banter. I knew the Three Duties, and the Four Virtues would not play well with her. As a man I might have wanted a woman of such an exemplary nature, but had not yet found one. One can but dream. Gurbesu told us what she thought.
‘I don’t think she was lying to me. She seemed to want to believe in what she was saying. Whether it represents the actual truth is another matter. I could detect no emotion in her at all.’
It was Lin’s turn to make a contribution to the debate.
‘In my country, women are assumed to subordinate themselves to men. And there are seven grounds for divorce – disobedience to parents-in-law, barrenness, adultery, jealousy, incurable disease, and theft.’
Gurbesu frowned, counting in her head.
‘That is only six.’
Lin smiled sweetly.
‘Yes, the seventh is loquacity. Do you think you could be more to the point, dear Gurbesu?’
Gurbesu snorted, and punched Lin playfully on the arm. Lin, however, was making a serious point. Women were subject to the whims of men in Cathay, and it took a particular temperament to overcome that drawback. Madam Gao had achieved it, it would seem, by simply being a determined person whom no one dared cross. But even she had been obliged to consider Geng’s marriage proposal. So how difficult was it for a young woman like Jianxu to be in control of her life? Perhaps her situation had required her to suppress her feelings.
‘Shall I go on?’
Gurbesu was staring at me with a curious look in her eye. I nodded, not seeing why my inner thoughts should have delayed her.
‘Yes, please do. What more is there to tell us, Gurbesu?’
‘Quite a lot, actually.’
Jianxu began to explain to the dark-haired woman sitting next to her in the shade of the solitary tree just how things had gone wrong.
‘Madam Gao uses the profits from her business to lend money at a rate of interest. The paper money system created by the Mongols has been a boon to her business, and many people come to her to borrow. One of them was Geng Biao. He eventually owed her a lot of money. I think he imagined that by marrying her he could eradicate his debt.’
‘But why would Madam Gao even consider his proposal if she was to lose out on a lucrative deal?’
Jianxu shook her head slowly.
‘She didn’t for a long time. In fact she was becoming quite irritated by his persistent attention. Especially when he suggested his son could marry me. As if this would solve the imagined problem of my being so old and without a husband.’
Jianxu turned her gaze on her interrogator.
‘I told Old Geng that I already had a husband. He was sadly dead, and I believed that widows should not remarry. He got very annoyed and stormed out of the house.’
Once again Jianxu returned her gaze to the far distance. There was a long pause before she continued her story.
‘Then something happened. I don’t know what it was, but it must have shocked my mother-in-law. I thought she had been seeing another client, but suddenly she emerged from her counting house followed by Old Geng. She was clutching her throat, and I thought that Geng had attacked her. But then I saw it was the opposite. Geng was holding her shoulders and comforting her. That night, Madam called for me and told me she was to marry Old Geng, and I was to be wed to his son. She said it was our duty. I cried the whole night, and prayed that my yun– my luck – would change overnight. But yunmoves as slowly as an oxcart’s wheel, and the next morning nothing had changed. I was still betrothed to Wenbo, and Madam was set on marrying his father.’
‘I did then ask her about the poisoned broth, but her story was the same as when I first interrogated her. She made it for Madam Gao, and Old Geng took it off her before she could give it to her mother-in-law.’
I looked at Gurbesu.
‘Did it sound the same story? I mean, exactly the same?’
Gurbesu nodded, and her thick, black hair fell across her eyes. She swept it up with her palm, wedging it behind her ear.
‘Yes. It is a considered story, rather than consistent. But it sounds truthful, all the same.’
Lin had been silent for a long time. Now he spoke up, echoing the thought that was in my mind.
‘We have to investigate this incident after which Madam Gao completely changed her mind about marrying Geng. What was it, I wonder?’
Tadeusz, who, too, had kept quiet during Gurbesu recital of Jianxu’s story, now entered the conversation.
‘I may be able to help you there. Among the debtors of Madam Gao was a physician called Sun. He disappeared around the time Gao agreed to marry Geng. By all accounts he was a poor doctor, who sometimes made his patients worse than they were when they went to him.’ He paused. ‘He would of course have had aconite in his collection of cures.’
This was very interesting news to me. Was this the source of the poison that killed Geng?
‘Disappeared, you say? Doesn’t anyone know of his whereabouts?’
Tadeusz waved a hand in the air and grimaced.
‘I have not so far been able to find anyone who does. But I shall not give up. And there is something else to say about Sun.’
‘What’s that?’
‘They say he dabbled in alchemy too. It has not been proven, but two old men died quite soon after consulting him in their search for greater longevity.’
‘Cinnabar.’
It was Lin who offered a theory about this latest matter.
‘Zhusha– as we call cinnabar – can be roasted to turn it into quicksilver – mercury. It is thought that through ingesting this substance that immortality can be attained. But it is a deadly substance, and if Doctor Sun is as careless with mercury as he is with the herbs he prescribes, then I am not surprised if many have died at his hands. Tadeusz, my friend, you must find him, and bring him to us. He can no doubt tell us to whom he sold the poison. Or if he himself administered it.’
Pyka nodded his agreement to his task, asking just one question.
‘Are you then inclined to think that the girl is innocent, after all?’
Lin looked at me inquiringly. He was sticking to his role as recorder of information, leaving me to draw the conclusions from them. I looked back at him, not able to detect in his stare what he might think himself. I was on the spot, and even Gurbesu looked down at the ground when I included her in my stare. I was unsure, but Tadeusz deserved an answer. He had given us a lot of useful information.
‘There is a lot more to prove yet. But, if we had begun this investigation from scratch and Jianxu had not already been in prison, then yes, I would be inclined to think her innocent at this stage.’
The girl sat in her cell watching the sun descend over the hills. For a moment, the path to her cell door was imbued with a red glow. It was as though she was witnessing a trail of red blood flowing to her door. She smiled in triumph. The interview with the tall, dark-skinned woman had been very successful. She knew she had convinced the woman of her tragic life to date, and therefore of her probable innocence. Now the path that she once deemed unlucky had become one of lucky red blood – life’s blood – that was flo
wing her way. Her yuncycle was in the ascendant, and she knew she would soon be free to do as she wished. Then along the blood path came a dark figure.
She knew it was Wenbo, because he came every day to see her. He was rather late this time, and she was anxious because she had much to say to him. But when she saw his eager, pinched face at the grille of her cell door, she knew everything would work out. Swiftly she told him what had happened that day, and told him what she would like done. He looked afraid, but determined, when he left soon afterwards. As the sun sank, and the path once again turned to grey, she breathed a great sigh of relief. For the first time, she fell asleep without feeling the sharp blade of the executioner’s sword on her neck.
FOURTEEN
It is easy to dodge a spear that comes in front of you, but hard to keep out of harm’s way from an arrow shot from behind.
Irose early the next morning because I had much to do. I told Lin that I would follow up the matter of the writer of the words in the play we had seen. Lin was still sure they had hinted at knowledge of the real murderer of Old Geng.
‘I keep recalling other lines from the play, but I don’t know whether they were in the original or not.’
I was getting more uncertain about this by the day.
‘Such as?’
‘Well, one character said something like “get your monkshood, and your mountain fennel.” Monkshood is aconite by another name – the poison we are looking for. But I’m damned if I can remember if the original play referred to it or another way of killing. You see, just before that line the same character said, “who could have guessed behind the smile a dagger lay?” Why say that if the victim in the play was poisoned?’
‘I will go and find this P’ing-Yang Nu and settle your doubts for you. And I will do it right away.’
Lin clutched his chest in a way that suggested staying his beating heart.
‘Thank you, my demon. Remember, you are looking for a man with tattooed arms and legs.’
I left him once again seated at his low desk writing notes of all our actions to date. It had always been my intention to go into town this morning, but not to see someone from the players’ troupe. I had arranged to meet the prefect, Li Wen-Tao, at the Temple of the Earth-Goddess. It was time for the first return on my investment. As I approached the temple, I noted with satisfaction two well-muscled young men emerging from the crowd and falling in step with me a few paces back. I had no worries about a physical encounter with the prefect, but who knows? If he chose to bring along a couple of heavies in order to foreclose on our deal, I would still be at a disadvantage. If he hadn’t thought of it, well, my having arranged for two big bodyguards at my back would keep him in line. Hopefully, I was secure.
