Murder in Canton

XXIV

Judge Dee ate a late noon meal in his private dining-room, to­gether with Chiao Tai and Tao Gan. His two lieutenants had arrested in the Liang mansion two Tanka and three Chinese hooli­gans, and also an Arab assassin. The six men had been put in the tribunal jail.

During the meal Judge Dee gave his two assistants a full account of all that had happened. He only omitted his last con­versation with the Governor. After he had also outlined his official version of the Censor's case, he pursued:

'Thus the task the Censor set himself, which cost him his life, has now been accomplished. The Chief Eunuch will get his deserts, and his political party will collapse. The Crown Prince will not be ousted from his rightful position, and the clique of the Empress will retreat into the background — for the time being.' The judge fell silent. He was thinking of the Empress, handsome, energetic, extremely capable, but completely ruthless, swayed by strange passions and devoured by ambition for herself and her kin. In this first, indirect clash he had got the better of her. But suddenly he had a dark premonition of other, more direct clashes to come, and of bloodshed, much wanton bloodshed. He felt the chilling pres­ence of the Spirit of Death.

Chiao Tai worriedly looked at Judge Dee's drawn face. There were heavy black pouches under his eyes, deep lines marked his hollow cheeks. With an effort the judge collected himself. He said slowly:

'The Censor's murder may be my last criminal case. From now on I shall probably devote myself entirely and exclusively to poli­tical problems. If some of these, like the Censor's case, should have criminal aspects, I shall order others to deal with them. Liang Foo's remarks about my methods of criminal detection were Very much to the point. They made me realize that the time is coming for me to close my career as a criminal investigator. My methods have become too widely known, and clever criminals can use this knowledge to their advantage. My methods are part of my per­sonality, and I am too old now to change that. Younger and more competent men will continue where I left off. A special convoy will take me back to the capital later this afternoon, when the worst heat is over. You two will follow as soon as you have wound up the Censor's case. You will keep strictly to the official version, and see to it that nothing transpires of what really happened here in Canton. You need not worry about Mansur; he has fled to an Arab ship, but fast military junks have been sent to the estuary to overtake him. He will be executed in secret, for he knows affairs of state that must on no account reach the ears of the Khalif.' He rose and added, 'We all need an hour or so of good rest! You two need not return to your dismal lodgings downtown. Take your siesta in my dressing-room; there are two spare couches there. After the siesta you may see me off, then set to work. I trust you'll be able to leave Canton tomorrow.' As the three men were walking to the door, Tao Gan said bleakly:

'We've been here only two days, but I have seen all I want of Canton!'

'Me too!’ Chiao Tai said curtly. Then he added in a matter-of-fact voice, 'I am looking forward to resuming my work in the capital, sir.'

Judge Dee cast a quick glance at his lieutenant's pale, haggard face. He reflected sadly that one lives and learns — at a price. He gave his lieutenants a warm smile and said:

'I am glad to hear that, Chiao Tai.'

They ascended the broad staircase that led to Judge Dee's living quarters on the second floor. When Chiao Tai had surveyed the two luxurious, curtained bedsteads in the anteroom, he said with a wry grin to Tao Gan:

'You take the one you like, or both!' And to the judge: 'I prefer to have my nap on that reed mat in front of the door of your bedroom, sir! Especially in this heat!’

The judge nodded. He pulled the door-curtain aside and entered his bedroom. It was hot and sultry there. He walked to the broad, arched window to pull up the bamboo roll curtain. But he quickly let it drop again, for the glare of the midday sun, reflected by the glazed rooftiles of the adjoining palace buildings, shone right into his eyes.

He went to the rear of the room and laid his cap on the small table beside his couch. His dagger was lying there behind the teapot. While he felt if the pot was still warm, his eye fell on his sword Rain Dragon hanging on the wall. The sight of his cher­ished sword reminded him suddenly of the one of the Subduer of the South Seas, in the painting in Liang's ancestral hall. Yes, the Admiral had had Tanka blood. But in him its primitive savagery had been checked by a noble mind, its elemental passions had been sublimated into a nearly superhuman courage. Stifling a sigh, he took off his heavy brocade robe. Clad only in his white silk under-robe, he stretched himself out on the couch.

Staring up at the high ceiling, he thought of his lieutenants. He was partially responsible for Chiao Tai's tragic experience, really. He should have seen to it long before that Chiao Tai settled down to family life — that was one of the duties one had towards one's retainers. Ma Joong had married those two nice daughters of the puppeteer. He ought to have arranged a suitable marriage for Chiao Tai too. He would do something about that when he was back in the capital. It wouldn't be easy, though. Chiao Tai be­longed to a distinguished family of warriors that had settled down in the north-west centuries ago. They were hardy men of a simple, staunch character, who lived for fighting, hunting and hard drink­ing, and who liked women of the same strong and independent type. In this respect Tao Gan presented no problem, fortunately, for he was an inveterate women-hater.

Then he thought of the weighty decisions he would have to take in the capital. He knew that the loyal party would approach him with a request to take over the political activities of the dead Censor. But was it not better to wait till the Great Demise before taking such a step? He tried to survey all possible developments, but found it difficult to think coherently. The muted voices of Chiao Tai and Tao Gan, which he could hear vaguely through the door-curtain, made him drowsy. When the murmuring ceased, the judge dozed off.

It was very quiet in this secluded wing of the palace. Except for the guards at the outer gates, everybody was taking his siesta.

The bamboo curtain was pushed aside with a faint rustling sound. Mansur stepped noiselessly over the window sill. He wore only a white loincloth, a curved dagger stuck in its folds. Instead of his large turban, he had wound a piece of cloth tightly round his head. His dark, muscular body glistened with perspiration, for he had climbed across the roofs to reach his goal. Standing in front of the window, he waited for a while to regain his breath. He noticed with satisfaction that Judge Dee was fast asleep. His silk underrobe had come apart in front, baring his broad chest.

Mansur walked up to the couch with the lithe grace of a panther stalking its prey. He laid his hand on the hilt of his dagger, then checked himself as his eye fell on the sword hanging on the wall. It would be nice to report to the Khalif that he had killed the infidel with the dog's own sword.

He took the sword down and drew it in one quick movement. But he was unfamiliar with Chinese swords. The loose guard clat­tered on to the stone flags.

Judge Dee stirred uneasily, then opened his eyes. Mansur uttered an oath. He raised the sword to plant it in Judge Dee's breast, but whirled round as he heard a loud shout behind him. Chiao Tai came rushing in, wearing only his baggy trousers. He sprang at Mansur, but the Arab lunged with the sword and drove it into Chiao Tai's breast. As Chiao Tai staggered backwards, dragging Mansur with him, the judge jumped from the couch and grabbed his dagger from the tea-table. Mansur cast a quick glance at him over his shoulder, uncertain whether to defend himself with the sword, or leave it and fight with his own, more familiar curved dagger. That moment's hesitation sealed his doom. The judge leapt on him and thrust the dagger into his neck with such savage force that the blood spurted high in the air. The judge threw the dead Arab aside, and knelt down by Chiao Tai.

The razor sharp Rain Dragon had penetrated deeply into Chiao Tai's breast. His face had turned white, his eyes were closed. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Tao Gan came rushing inside.

'Get the Governor's doctor, and alarm the guards!’ Judge Dee barked.

He put his arm under Chiao Tai's head. He did not dare to remove the sword. A stream of confused memories passed before his mind's eye: their first meeting in the woods, when he had fought against Chiao Tai with this same sword; the many dangers they had faced shoulder to shoulder; the many times they had saved each other's lives.

He never knew how long he knelt there, looking at the still face. Suddenly he found many people crowding around him. The Governor's physician examined the wounded man. As he carefully pulled out the sword and staunched the bleeding, Judge Dee asked him hoarsely:

'Can we move him to the couch?'

The physician nodded. Giving the judge a grave look, he whis­pered:

'It's only his remarkable vitality that keeps him alive.'

Together with Tao Gan and the captain of the guard they lifted Chiao Tai up and softly laid him down on Judge Dee's couch. As the judge took the sword, he ordered the captain:

'Tell your men to take this dead Arab away.'

Chiao Tai opened his eyes. Seeing the sword in Judge Dee's hands, he said with a faint smile:

'It's by that sword we met, and by that sword we part.'

The judge quickly sheathed it. Laying it on Chiao Tai's tanned, scar-covered breast, he said softly:

The Rain Dragon shall stay with you, Chiao Tai. I shall never carry a sword stained by the blood of my best friend.'

With a happy smile Chiao Tai folded his large hands over the sword. He gave Judge Dee a long look. Then a film seemed to spread over his eyes.

Tao Gan cradled Chiao Tai's head in his left arm. Tears trickled slowly down his long lean face.

'Shall I order the watch to start beating the Dead March, sir?' the captain of the guard asked in a whisper.

Judge Dee shook his head.

'No. Let them beat the Triumphant Return. At once!’

He motioned the physician and the guards to leave them alone. Bending close over the couch, he and Tao Gan looked at their friend's face, very still now. His eyes were closed. After they had been watching him for a long time, they noticed that his cheeks reddened. Soon his face was glowing with fever; perspiration streamed from the dying man's forehead. His breathing came in gasps, and more blood oozed from his distorted mouth.

'Left column ... forward!’ Chiao Tai brought out.

Suddenly the quiet outside was shattered by the heavy rumble of the large leather drums on the watchtowers of the palace. Their rhythm quickened, then came the piercing blast of the long trum­pets, announcing the return of the victorious warriors.

Chiao Tai opened his eyes, now partially glazed. He listened intently, then his bloodstained lips curved in a happy smile.

'The battle is won!’ he suddenly said, very clearly.

There was a rattling sound in his throat; a long shudder shook his tall frame. The smile became fixed.

A WARRIOR'S DEATH