Poets and Murder

V

Walking along the broad corridor of the chancery facing Lo's residence, Judge Dee bestowed a casual look upon the dozen or so clerks who were busily wielding their writing-brushes at high desks, piled with dossiers and papers. Since the tri­bunal is the administrative centre of the entire district, it is not only the seat of criminal jurisdiction, but also the regis­tration office of births, marriages and deaths, and of sales and purchases of landed property; moreover, the tribunal is re­sponsible for the collection of taxes, including land tax. When the judge passed the lattice door of the hall at the end of the corridor, he saw through the open woodwork the counsellor, bent over his desk. He knew Kao only by sight. On the im­pulse of the moment he pushed the door open and went into the scrupulously clean office.

Kao looked up and quickly got to his feet.

'Please be seated, Excellency! Can I offer you a cup of tea?'

'Don't trouble, Mr Kao. I won't sit down, for I am expected in the residence. Has Magistrate Lo told you the result of our visit to the scene of Soong's murder?'

'My chief was in a hurry to see his guests, sir. He just dropped in and ordered me to inform the Board of Education in the capital that Soong had been murdered, and ask them to apprise the next of kin.' Handing the judge a draft, he added, 'I also asked the Board to ascertain the family's wishes regarding the burial.'

'Very good, Mr Kao. You'd better add a request for in­formation regarding the student's background. Just to com­plete the record.' Returning the draft to Kao, he resumed, 'Mr Meng told us that you had introduced Soong to him. Do you know the tea-merchant well?'

'Yes indeed, sir. When I was transferred here five years ago from the Prefect's office, I made Mr Meng's acquaintance in the local chess club. Now we meet there every week for a game. I came to know him as a man of elevated character, sir. Rather conservative, but by no means an old fogey. And a strong chess player!’

'Being an old-fashioned gentleman, Mr Meng keeps his household in proper order, I suppose? Never any rumours about clandestine relations or ...'

'Never, sir! A model household, I'd call it! I paid a cour­tesy call on Meng, and had the honour to be presented to the Old Lady, who was then still alive. Locally she was well known as a poetess, sir. And Mr Meng's son is an intelligent youngster, he's only fourteen and already in the highest form of the District School.'

'Yes, Mr Meng made a most favourable impression on me. Well, thanks for your information, Mr Kao.'

The counsellor conducted Judge Dee all the way to the monumental entrance gate of Magistrate Lo's private resi­dence. Just as the judge was about to enter, a broad-shouldered officer came outside. He wore the black, red-bordered tunic of the Prefecture, the long red tassels on his iron helmet in­dicating that he was a sergeant of the guard. A broadsword was strapped to his back. The judge went to ask him whether he had brought a message from the Prefect, but desisted when he saw the round bronze plaque hanging on a chain from the sergeant's neck. This was the token that he was on special duty, conveying a criminal to the capital. The tall officer hurriedly crossed the yard to overtake Counsellor Kao. Vaguely Judge Dee wondered what important criminal was being escorted through Chin-hwa.

He went to the right wing of the first courtyard, and opened the narrow, red-lacquered door that gave access to the court­yard that Magistrate Lo had placed at his disposal. It was small, but a unity in itself, the high surrounding walls giving it a pleasant atmosphere of quiet privacy. In front of his spacious bed-sitting-room ran a gallery, two steps leading down into the square yard, paved with coloured tiles. In the centre was a small goldfish pond, with a rockery behind it. The judge paused for a moment on the gallery, under the red-lacquered beams of the overhanging eaves, and admired the charming scene. From the crevices of the rockery, covered with moss, grew tufts of slender bamboos, and a small shrub of shining red berries. Over the garden wall he could see the tall maple trees of the park surrounding the residence. A breeze rustled their foliage, aglow with the rich colours of autumn: red, brown and yellow. He estimated it was about four o'clock.

The judge turned round, pushed the sliding-doors of red-lacquered lattice-work open and went inside, making straight for the tea-basket on the side-table, for he was very thirsty. To his disappointment he found it empty. Well, it didn't mat­ter, for presently his two hosts would offer him tea. His im­mediate problem was whether or not to change. Both the Academician and the Court Poet were senior in age and rank, so properly speaking he ought to visit them as he was, in full ceremonial dress. On the other hand, neither of the two was occupying an official post at the moment. The Academician had gone into retirement a year ago, and Chang had resigned his position at Court, in order to devote himself entirely to editing a complete edition of his poetic oeuvre. If the judge visited them in his ceremonial dress, they might take that as an impertinence, as an attempt to stress that he, the judge, was an official in function whereas they were not. Heaving a sigh, he thought of the old proverb, 'It's safer to beard a tiger in its lair than to approach a high official'. Finally he decided upon a long-sleeved violet gown with a broad black sash, and a high square cap of black gauze. He hoped that this dignified but modest attire would meet with approval, and went out­side.

JUDGE DEE VISITS THE ACADEMICIAN

The judge had noticed already that although the buildings of the front courtyard, including his own quarters, consisted of only one storey, those of the other courtyards further on had second floors, lined with broad balconies. Now he saw on the balcony of the tall building in the back of the main court­yard many boy servants and maids coming and going. Evi­dently they were making preparations for the dinner party there that night. He estimated that his colleague's household personnel must count at least a hundred persons, and shud­dered when he calculated the cost involved in maintaining such a palatial residence.

He hailed a servant, who informed him that Magistrate Lo had ceded his own library to the Academician, in the left wing of the second court, and assigned to the Court Poet the corner apartment of the right wing. The judge ordered the boy to take him to the library first. When he had knocked on the beautifully carved door panel, a deep voice called, 'Come in!’

The judge saw at a glance that Lo had made his library into an attractive and comfortable retreat. It was a spacious, lofty room with broad lattice windows showing intricate geometrical designs that stood out against the spotless paper panes. Two walls were lined with well-stocked bookshelves, here and there interrupted by niches displaying a few choice antique bowls and vases. The furniture consisted of solid pieces of carved blackwood, the tops of the tables were of coloured marble, the chairs cushioned with red silk. Large vases moun­ted on ebony stands and filled with white and yellow chrysan­themums flanked the massive bench in front of the bookshelves. There a heavily-built, broad-shouldered man sat reading a book. He put the volume down and gave Judge Dee a curious look, raising one of his thick, tufted eyebrows. He wore an ample, sapphire-blue gown, open at the neck, and a black silk cap, decorated in front by a round plaque of trans­lucent green jade. The long ends of the sash round his waist trailed down on to the floor. His broad, heavy-jowled face was framed by short sidewhiskers and a neatly trimmed ring beard, as was then the fashion at the Imperial Court, The judge knew that the Academician was getting on for sixty, but his beard and whiskers were still jet black.

Judge Dee stepped up to him, made a low bow, and handed him his red visiting-card respectfully, with both hands. The Academician cast a cursory glance at it. Putting the card in his capacious sleeve, he spoke in his rumbling voice:

'So you are Dee from Poo-yang. Yes, young Lo told me that you were staying here too. Nice place, better than that cramped room in the government hostel I passed the night in. Glad to meet you, Dee. You did a good job in cleaning up that temple in Poo-yang. Made you a lot of enemies at Court, but also friends. All good men have both enemies and friends, Dee. No use trying to be everybody's friend, gets you no­where.' He rose and walked over to the writing-desk. Sitting down in the armchair, he pointed at a low footstool. 'Well, take that seat opposite me!’

The judge sat down and began politely:

'This person has long been looking forward eagerly to an opportunity for paying his respects to Your Excellency. Now that ...'

The Academician waved a large, shapely hand.

'Let's skip all that, shall we? We are not at Court here. Just an informal gathering of amateur poets. You write poetry too, don't you, Dee?'

He fixed the judge with his large eyes, where the black stood out clearly against the white.

'Hardly, sir,' the judge replied diffidently. 'I had to learn the rules of prosody, of course, when I was a student. And I have read our famous classical anthologies, so ably edited by you, sir. But I have written only one poem myself.'

'The fame of many an illustrious man rests just on one poem, Dee!’ He pulled the large teapot of blue porcelain to­wards him. 'You've had your tea already, of course, Dee.' As the Academician poured himself a cup, Judge Dee got a whiff of delicate jasmine. After having taken a few sips, his host resumed, 'Well, tell me what your poem was about.'

Clearing his dry throat, the judge replied:

'It was a didactic poem, sir, on the importance of agricul­ture. I tried to compress seasonal directions for the farmers in a hundred rhymed stanzas.'

The Academician* shot him a quizzical look.

'You did, did you? Why did you choose that, eh .. . rather peculiar theme?'

'Because I hoped that such directions if put into verse, with rhythm and rhyme, might be remembered more easily by simple country folk, sir.'

The other smiled.

'Most people would consider that a foolish answer, Dee. Not I. Poetry is indeed easy to remember. Not only because of the rhyme, but chiefly because it responds to the beat of our blood, and to the rhythm of our respiration. Rhythm is the bone-structure of all good poetry, and of prose too. Recite a few couplets from your poem, Dee!’

The judge shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'To tell you the truth, sir, I wrote it more than ten years ago. I am afraid I don't recall a single couplet, at the moment. But I'll send you a copy, if I may, for ...'

'Don't trouble, Dee! Let me tell you frankly that it must have been bad poetry. If there had been a few good lines in it, you'd never have forgotten those. Tell me, did you ever read the "Imperial Rescript to the Officers and Men of the Seventh Army"?'

'I know it by heart, sir!’ the judge exclaimed. 'That inspir­ing message to a retreating army turned the tide of battle, sir! Those stately opening lines ...'

'Exactly, Dee! You'll never forget that text, because it was good prose, the rhythm of which pulsated in the blood of every man at arms, from the generals to the foot-soldiers. Therefore people still recite it now, all over our Empire. I drafted it for His Majesty, by the way. Well, Dee, you must give me your views on local administration. I always enjoy talking with young officials, you know. Always consider it one of the many drawbacks of a high position at Court that we get out of touch with provincial officials. And I am espe­cially interested in district problems, Dee. It's the lowest administrative level, of course, but of basic importance.' He slowly emptied his cup under the envious eyes of Judge Dee, carefully wiped his moustache and resumed with a reminiscent smile:

'I started as a district magistrate myself, you know! Served in only one post, though, for then I wrote my memorial on judicial reform, and I was promoted to Prefect in the south, then transferred here to this very region! Hectic times those were, when the Ninth Prince rebelled, twenty years ago. And now we are in his old mansion! Yes, time flies, Dee. Well, then I published my critical notes on the Classics, and I was appointed Reader in the Imperial Academy. Was allowed to accompany His Majesty on the August Inspection Tour of the western regions. On that journey I composed my "Odes on the Szuchuan Mountains". Still consider that my best poetry, Dee.' He loosened the collar of his robe, baring his thick, mus­cular neck. The judge remembered that the Academician had also been a well-known wrestler and swordsman in his youn­ger years. His host took up the book that was lying open on the desk.

'Found this on Lo's shelves, Counsellor Hwang's collected poems on Szuchuan scenery. Visited the same places as I did. Very interesting to compare our impressions. This verse is quite good, but ...' He bent over the page, then shook his head. 'No, this metaphor doesn't ring quite true ...' Sud­denly remembering his guest he looked up and said with a smile, 'Shouldn't bother you with all this, Dee! You've doubt­less many things to attend to before dinner.'

Judge Dee rose. The Academician got up too, and despite his guest's protests insisted on seeing him to the door.

'Thoroughly enjoyed our talk, Dee! Always keen on hear­ing the views of young officials. Makes one look at things with a fresh eye, so to speak. See you tonight!’

Judge Dee walked hurriedly over to the right wing, for his parched throat was making him really long for a cup of tea. There were many doors along the open gallery, but he looked in vain for a servant to tell him which was the Court Poet's room. Then his eye fell on a thin man in a faded grey robe who was feeding the goldfish in the granite basin at the end of the gallery. He wore a flat black cap with a thin red seam. Apparently one of his colleague's stewards. The judge walked up to him and asked:

'Could you tell me where I can find the Honourable Chang Lan-po?'

The other raised his head and looked him up and down with his heavy-lidded, strangely still eyes. Then a shy smile curved his lips, thin above the sparse, greying chinbeard. He said in a colourless voice:

'He is here. I am Chang Lan-po, as a matter of fact.'

'A thousand pardons, sir!' Judge Dee quickly took his visiting-card from his sleeve and offered it to the poet with a low bow. 'I came to pay you my respects, sir.'

The poet stared absent-mindedly at the card, holding it in his thin, blue-veined hand. 'Most considerate of you, Dee,' he said mechanically. Pointing at the basin, he resumed in a more animated voice, 'Look at that small fish under the water­weeds in the corner! Do you notice the perplexed look in its large, bulging eyes? It forcibly reminds me of ourselves ... bewildered observers.' Then he lifted his hooded eyes. 'Excuse me, please. Raising goldfish is one of my hobbies, you see. Makes me forget my manners. How long have you been stay­ing here, Dee?'

'I arrived the day before yesterday, sir.'

'Oh yes, the Prefect held a conference of magistrates here, I heard. I do hope you are enjoying your stay in Chin-hwa, Dee. I am a native of this district, you know.'

'It's a beautiful city, sir. And I feel most honoured that now I have an opportunity of meeting its most distinguished and brilliant ...'

The poet shook his head.

'No, not brilliant, Dee. Not any more, unfortunately.' He put the small ivory box with goldfish food back in his sleeve. 'I apologize, Dee, but I feel a bit out of sorts today. The visit to my ancestral shrine made me dwell on the past ...' He broke off and darted a shy glance at his visitor. 'Tonight, at dinner, I'll brighten up a little. Have to, for my friend the Academician always draws me into involved literary argu­ments. He has a truly encyclopaedic knowledge of literature, Dee, and an unrivalled command of the language. A bit high and mighty, but ...' Suddenly he asked anxiously, 'You have visited him before coming to me, I hope?'

'I did, sir.'

'Very good. I must warn you that despite his bohemian airs, Shao is very conscious of his exalted position, and quick to take offence. I am sure you'll enjoy tonight's gathering, Dee. With Sexton Loo present, there won't be a dull moment! And it's a rare privilege to meet our famous colleague who has suddenly become so notorious now. We must ...' He clapped his hand to his mouth. 'Nearly spoke out of turn there! Our mutual friend Lo made me promise I wouldn't tell you! Lo is fond of his little surprises, as you doubtless know.' He passed his hand over his face. 'Well, excuse me for not asking you inside for a cup of tea. I am really rather tired, Dee, ought to take a nap before dinner. I didn't sleep well last night. The hostel was so noisy ...'

'Of course, sir. I quite understand!' The judge took his leave with a bow, his hands respectfully folded in his long sleeves.

While walking down the gallery he decided that now that he had paid his official calls, he must try to get hold of Lo to report what he had learned from the maid in the tea-merchant's house. And to get a cup of tea at long last!