Poets and Murder

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Back in the pine forest behind the Temple of Subtle Insight, the judge left his lantern under a tree. When he had brushed himself down as well as he could, he entered the temple com­pound by the back gate. The window of the corner room where he thought he had seen the sexton was now shut.

Two monks stood talking together on the stairs of the main hall. He stepped up to them.

'I came to see Sexton Loo, but apparently he has gone out.'

'His reverence came here the day before yesterday, sir. But this morning he moved to the residence of His Excellency the Magistrate.'

The judge thanked them, and went to the main gate. His two litter bearers were squatting by the roadside, playing a gambling game with black and white pebbles. They quickly scrambled up. The judge told them to take him to the tribunal.

Upon his arrival at the residence, Judge Dee went straight into the main courtyard. He wanted to talk to Lo before the other guests arrived; after that he could change quickly into a more formal costume.

Half a dozen maids were rushing around in the elegant landscaped garden in front of the main hall, hanging coloured lampions among the flowering shrubs, and two boy servants were putting up a bamboo scaffolding for fireworks on the other side of the lotus pond. Looking up at the balcony of the second floor, the judge saw Magistrate Lo standing by the red-lacquered balustrade, talking with his counsellor. Lo wore an elegant wide robe of blue brocade, and a high winged cap of black gauze. Glad that the dinner had not yet begun, Judge Dee hastily ascended the broad staircase of polished wood.

When the small magistrate saw him coming along the bal­cony, he exclaimed, aghast:

'My dear fellow! Why haven't you changed yet? The guests'll be here any moment!’

'I have an urgent message for you, Lo. Personally.'

'Go and see whether the housemaster is managing all right in the banquet hall, Kao!’ When his counsellor had gone inside, Lo asked rather curtly, 'Well, what is it?'

Leaning against the balustrade, Judge Dee told his colleague how the clue of the 'Black Fox Lay' had taken him to the deserted shrine, and the gist of his conversation there. When he had finished, the magistrate exclaimed, beaming at him:

'Magnificent, elder brother, magnificent! This means that we are half-way to the solution of our murder case, for we now know the motive! Soong came here to trace his father's murderer, but that chap got wind that the student was on his track, and he killed the poor fellow. It was Soong's notes concerning that old murder of eighteen years ago that the scoundrel searched for in the student's lodging. And found, too!’ As Judge Dee nodded, Lo resumed, 'Soong consulted my archives for details of his father's case. We must now go over all dossiers of the Year of the Dog, and look for an unsolved murder, disappearance, kidnapping or what have you, involv­ing a family of the surname Soong.'

'Any such case,' the judge corrected him. 'Since the student wanted his investigation to be a secret, Soong may be an assumed name. He planned to reveal his identity and file an official accusation as soon as he had found his man and col­lected proof of his crime. Well, the man murdered Soong, but now he has us on his heels!’ Tugging at his moustache, he resumed, 'Another man I'd like to meet is Saffron's father. It's a shame that the heartless scoundrel lets his illegitimate child live in those filthy surroundings! And she's ill too. We must check with the dancer, Lo. She may have recognized Saffron's father, and if not she can give us at least a description of him, for she saw him when he was leaving the ruin, with the scarf removed from his face. After we have located the fellow, we'll make him confess what woman he seduced, and see what we can do for the poor girl. Has Small Phoenix arrived yet?'

'Oh yes, she's in the improvised green-room, behind the banquet hall. Yoo-lan is with her, helping her with her make­up and so forth. Let's get her here. The other two dancers are also in the green-room, and we want to talk to the wench alone.' He looked over the balustrade. 'Holy heaven, the Academician and Chang are here! I must rush down to wel­come them. You'd better hurry down the small staircase over there, Dee, and change as quickly as you can!’

Judge Dee went down the narrow staircase at the end of the balcony, and walked quickly to his own quarters.

While donning a dark blue robe with a subdued flower pattern, he reflected it was a pity that his imminent departure would prevent him from witnessing further developments in this intriguing murder case. After they had ascertained the identity of the student's father, murdered eighteen years ago, Lo would have to probe into the circumstances of his death, thoroughly investigating all persons who had had contact with him and who were still living in Chin-hwa. That would take many days, if not weeks. He, the judge, would person­ally see to it that Saffron was removed to suitable quarters. Then, after she had received medical attention, Lo should make her talk about her conversations with the murdered student. He wondered why the student had sought out Saff­ron. Only because of his interest in unusual music? That seemed most improbable. Soong did seem to have fallen in love with her, though. Meng's maid had mentioned Soong's preference for love songs, and the silver hair-needles he con­sulted the maid about now turned out to have been intended for Saffron. There were all kinds of interesting possibilities. He adjusted his winged velvet cap in front of the mirror on the dressing-table, then hurried back to the main courtyard.

He saw the shimmer of brocade robes on the brilliantly lit balcony. Apparently the guests were admiring the illuminated garden before dinner. This saved the judge from the em­barrassment of entering the banquet hall when the high guests were already in their seats.

On the balcony, Judge Dee first made his bow to the Acade­mician, resplendent in a flowing robe of gold brocade, and wearing the high square cap of the Academy, with two long black ribbons that hung down his broad back. Sexton Loo had put on a wine-red gown with broad black borders which lent him a certain dignity. The Court Poet had chosen a brown silk robe embroidered with a golden flower pattern, and a high cap with golden rims. Chang had indeed brightened up now; he was in animated conversation with Magistrate Lo.

'Don't you agree, Dee,' Lo asked briskly, 'that expressive force is one of the most striking features of our honoured friend's poetry?'

Chang Lan-po quickly shook his head.

'Let's not waste our precious time together on empty com­pliments, Lo. Ever since I asked to be relieved of my duties at Court, I have devoted most of my time to editing my poems of the past thirty years, and expressive force is exactly what my poetry lacks!’ Lo wanted to protest, but the poet raised his hand. 'I shall tell you the reason. I've always led a placid, sheltered life. My wife is, as you may know, also a poet, and we have no children. We live in an attractive country house just outside the capital, I tending my goldfish and my tray-landscapes, my wife looking after our flower garden. Occa­sionally friends from the city drop in for a simple dinner, and we talk and write till far into the night. I always thought I was happy, until recently, when I suddenly came to realize that my poetry only mirrors an imaginary world, built up in my mind. Since my poems lack the direct link with real life, they have always been bloodless, devoid of life. And now, after my visit to my ancestral shrine, I keep asking myself whether a few volumes of lifeless poems are sufficient justifica­tion for my fifty years' existence.'

'What you call your imaginary world, sir,' Lo said earn­estly, 'is in fact more real than so-called real life. Our every­day, outer world is transitory; you grasp the permanent essen­tials of inner life.'

'Thanks for your kind words, Lo. Yet I feel that if once I could experience a shattering emotion, even a tragedy, some­thing that entirely upset my placid existence, I would ...'

'You're completely wrong, Chang!’ the booming voice of the Academician interrupted. 'Come here, Sexton, I want your opinion too! Listen, Chang, I am getting on for sixty, am nearly ten years your senior. For forty years I have been a man of action, served in nearly every important branch of government, raised a large family, had all the shattering emo­tions a man can experience in public and private life! And let me tell you that only after my retirement last year, now that I am leisurely visiting all by myself the places I used to like, only now am I beginning to see through outer appear­ances, and to realize that the more permanent values lie out­side our worldly life. You, on the contrary, could afford to skip that preliminary phase of action, Chang. You, my friend, have seen the Way of Heaven, without even looking out of your window!’

'So you quote Taoist texts!' the sexton remarked. "The founder of Taoism was a garrulous old fool. He stated that silence is better than speech, then dictated a book of five thousand words!'

'I don't agree at all,' the Court Poet protested. 'The Buddha... .'

'The Buddha was a mangy beggar, and Confucius a meddl­ing pedant,' the sexton snapped.

Judge Dee, shocked by the last statement, looked to the Academician for a fiery protest. But Shao just smiled and asked:

'If you despise all our three religions, Sexton, then where do you belong?'

'To nothingness,' the obese monk replied promptly.

'Oho! That's not true. You belong to calligraphy!’ the Academician shouted. 'Tell you what we'll do, Lo! After dinner we'll have that enormous silk screen in your banquet hall down on the floor, and old Loo shall write one of his couplets on it. With a broom, or whatever he uses!’

'Excellent!' Lo exclaimed. 'The screen'll be treasured for generations to come!'

Now Judge Dee remembered having seen sometimes on the outer walls of temples and other monuments magnificent in­scriptions in letters of more than six feet high, and signed 'Old Man Loo'. He looked at the ugly fat man with new respect.

'How do you manage to write those colossal inscriptions, sir?' he asked.

'I stand on a scaffolding wielding a brush five feet long. And when I inscribe screens, I do so while walking over a ladder laid across them. Better tell your servants to prepare a bucket of ink, Lo!’

'Who needs a bucket of ink?' the melodious voice of the poetess spoke up. Now that her face had been carefully made up, she was indeed a radiant beauty. And her olive-green gown was so cut as to disguise her somewhat portly figure. The judge watched the effortless ease with which she joined the general conversation, achieving just the right tone with the Academician and Chang: the familiarity of a colleague in letters, but with an undertone of deference. Only a long career as a courtesan could give a woman that ease in associating on equal terms with men not belonging to the family.

The old housemaster pushed the sliding-doors open, and Lo invited his guests to enter the banquet hall. Four thick, red-lacquered pillars supported the gaudily painted rafters, each pillar bearing an auspicious inscription in large golden charac­ters. The one on the right read 'All the people enjoy together years of universal peace', the other giving the corresponding line, 'Fortunate in being ruled by a saintly and wise Sovereign'. The arched door-openings on either side had frames of intri­cately carved woodwork. The arch on the left gave access to a side-hall where the servants were warming the wine. In the side-hall opposite sat the orchestra of six musicians, two flautists, two violinists, one girl playing the mouth organ, and another sitting behind the large zither. While the orchestra struck up the gay melody 'Welcoming the High Guests', the small magistrate led the Academician and Chang ceremoni­ously to the seats of honour at the table directly in front of the enormous, three-panelled screen of white silk set against the back wall. Both protested that they were undeserving of that honour, but let themselves be persuaded by Lo. He in­vited Judge Dee to sit at the table on the left, so that he was Chang's neighbour, and then conducted the sexton to the upper place at the table on the right. After he had asked the poetess to be seated at Judge Dee's right hand, he himself sat down in the lowest place, next to Sexton Loo. Each table was covered by a piece of costly red brocade, with gold-embroidered borders; the plates and bowls were of choice coloured porcelain, the wine cups of pure gold, and chopsticks of silver. The platters were heaped with seasoned meat and fish, slices of pressed ham, preserved ducks' eggs, and countless other cold delicacies. And although the hall was lit by the high floor lamps along the walls, there stood on each of the three tables two tall red candles in holders of wrought silver. After the maids had served the wine, Magistrate Lo raised his cup and drank to the health and good fortune of all pre­sent. Then they took up their chopsticks.

The Academician at once began to exchange news with Chang about mutual acquaintances in the capital. Thus the judge was free to address the poetess. He inquired politely when she had arrived in Chin-hwa. It turned out that she had arrived two days before with the armed escort, consisting of a sergeant and two soldiers, and had taken a room in a small inn behind the Sapphire Bower. She added, without a trace of embarrassment, that the old lady in charge had worked in the same famous brothel in the capital she herself had be­longed to, and that she had looked her up to talk about the old days. 'I met Small Phoenix in the Sapphire Bower,' she added. 'A superb dancer, and a very bright girl.'

'She seemed a bit over-ambitious to me,' Judge Dee remarked.

'You men never understand women,' the poetess said dryly. 'Which is probably very fortunate — for us!’ She cast an an­noyed look at the Academician who had set out on an elabor­ate speech.

'Thus I am certain I speak for all of you when I tender our profound thanks to Magistrate Lo, gifted poet, excellent ad­ministrator, and a perfect host! We thank him for gathering here, on the eve of the auspicious Moon Festival, this small group of old friends, congenial spirits, united in perfect harmony at this festive dish!' Turning his flashing eyes to the poetess, he said, 'Yoo-lan, you'll compose for us an ode in praise of the occasion! The theme is "The Happy Reunion".'

The poetess took up her wine cup and turned it round in her hand for a few moments. Then she recited in her rich, ringing voice:

As she paused, Magistrate Lo nodded with a pleased smile. But the judge noticed that the sexton was watching the poetess with an uneasy glint in his bulging eyes. Then she recited the parallel couplet:

THE BANQUET IN THE RESIDENCE

There was a shocked silence. The Court Poet had grown red in the face. Giving the poetess an angry look, he said, mastering his voice with difficulty:

'You refer to conditions that obtain only temporarily, Yoo-lan. And in regions struck by floods or droughts.'

'They obtain always and everywhere. And you know it!' she told him curtly.

Magistrate Lo quickly clapped his hands. The musicians began a gay, fetching melody, and two dancing-girls came drifting in. Both were very young. One wore a long, flowing dress of transparent white gauze, the other an azure-blue robe. After they had dropped a low curtsey in front of the main table, they lifted their arms above their heads and began to turn slowly, the ends of their long sleeves whirling around them in wide circles. While the one danced on the tips of her tiny feet, the other bent one knee, and they alternated these postures in quick succession. It was the well-known number 'Two Swallows in Spring', and although the girls did their best, they seemed conscious of their nakedness under the thin robes, and lacked the abandon of experienced dancers. The guests did not pay much attention to them and there was a general conversation while the servants brought in steaming hot dishes.

Judge Dee covertly observed the drawn face of his neigh­bour who was listlessly picking at her food. He knew from her biography that she had actually experienced abject poverty, and he appreciated her sincerity. But her poem had been unkind to their genial host, rude, even. He bent over to her and asked:

'Don't you think your poem was a bit unkind? I know that despite his debonair manner Magistrate Lo is a most con­scientious official, who uses his private means not only for entertaining us, but also for contributing generously to all charitable organizations.'

'Who wants charity?' she asked with disdain.

'Wanted or not, it still helps a lot of people,' Judge Dee remarked dryly. He couldn't make out this strange woman.

The music stopped and the two young dancers made their bow. There was half-hearted applause. New dishes were being carried to the tables, and fresh wine was brought out. Then Lo rose from his chair, and said with a broad smile:

'The performance you witnessed just now was but a modest introduction to the main programme! After the stewed carp has been served, there'll be a brief interval, for watching the fireworks in the garden, from the balcony. Afterwards you'll see a rare old dance, peculiar to this region. It'll be performed by the dancer Small Phoenix, accompanied by two flutes and the small drum. The title of the melody is "Black Fox Lay".'

He resumed his seat amidst the astonished murmur of the guests.

'Excellent idea, Lo,' the Academician shouted. 'At long last a dance I've never seen before!’

'Very interesting,' the Court Poet commented. 'As a native of this district, I know that there exists an old fox-lore here. Never heard about that particular dance, though.'

The sexton asked Lo in his hoarse, croaking voice:

'Do you think it's right to have a magic dance at this ...'

The rest was lost in the animated music the orchestra had struck up. Judge Dee wanted to start another conversation with the poetess, but she said curtly:

'Later, please! I like this music. Used to dance to it, for­merly.'

The judge devoted his attention to the carp stewed in a sweet-sour sauce which was indeed delicious. Suddenly a swishing sound came from outside. A rocket flew up, leaving a string of coloured lights in its wake.

'On to the balcony, please!' Magistrate Lo shouted. And to the housemaster who was standing by the screen, 'Douse all the lights!'

They all rose and went out on the balcony. Judge Dee stood himself at the red-lacquered balustrade, beside the poetess. Lo was on her other side, and Counsellor Kao and the old housemaster stood a little further along. Looking over his shoulder, the judge vaguely saw the tall figure of the Academician. He supposed that Chang and the sexton were standing there too, but he couldn't see them for all the lamps and candles had been put out and the banquet hall was a mass of indistinct black shadow.

A large wheel consisting of coloured lights was turning round on the scaffolding in the garden below, sparks spout­ing from the fire crackers attached to its circumference. It turned quicker and quicker, then suddenly dissolved in a rain of multicoloured stars.

'Very pretty!' the Academician remarked behind Judge Dee.

There followed a bouquet of flowers that after a while ex­ploded loudly into a flight of butterflies. Then came a long series of symbolical figures, in dazzling colours. The judge wanted to begin a conversation with the poetess, but he thought better of it when he saw her wan, drawn face. Sud­denly she turned to Lo and said:

'You are doing us very well, magistrate. It's a magnificent spectacle!’

The self-deprecatory remarks of her neighbour were drowned in a series of loud detonations. Judge Dee inhaled with satisfaction the acrid powder smell that rose up from the garden. It cleared his head a little, for he had drunk many cups, and in quick succession. Now there appeared a large tableau, representing the conventional triad of the characters for Happiness, Riches and Long Life. There was a last burst of crackers, then the garden grew dark.

'Thanks very much, Lo,' the Court Poet said. He had come up to the balustrade, together with the Academician and Sexton Loo. While they were complimenting the magistrate, Yoo-lan said in a low voice to the judge:

'That conventional triad is very silly. If you're happy, riches’ll make you unhappy, and a long life'll make you out­live your happiness. Let's go inside, it's getting chilly here, and they are lighting the candles again.'

When the guests were resuming their places, six servants came in carrying steaming dishes of dumplings. The poetess had not sat down.

'I'll go and see whether Small Phoenix is ready for her dance,' she told the judge. 'The girl hopes to establish a repu­tation by performing before this select company, you know. Dreams of getting invited to the capital, I bet!’ She went to the arched door-opening behind their table.

'I propose a toast to our generous host!’ the Academician called out.

They all raised their wine cups. The judge picked up a dumpling. It was stuffed with chopped pork and onions, flavoured with ginger. He noticed that the sexton had been served a special vegetarian dish of fried bean-curd; but he did not touch it. He was crumbling a piece of candied fruit in his thick fingers, his protruding eyes fixed on the door-opening through which the poetess had disappeared. All of a sudden Magistrate Lo let his chopsticks clatter down on the table. With a smothered exclamation he pointed at the door. Judge Dee turned round in his chair.

The poetess was standing in the archway. Her face deadly pale, she was looking dazedly at her hands. They were covered in blood.