A Deadly Injustice (11 page)

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
.

K
ubilai 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 prefect, 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.'

Cautiously optimistic now, Li waved his chopsticks, and wiped his sticky mouth with a napkin.

‘I exercised all diligence to come to the right conclusion.'

‘Ah yes. I am sure Taitemir was pleased with the outcome.'

At first he wasn't sure how to take my comment. Was I suggesting that he had condemned Jianxu because that was what his overlord wanted? And was I thereby criticizing him, or praising him? I let him hang for a while, before smiling broadly.

‘It was just what I would have done.'

Li relaxed, and scooped up some more fish from his bowl, stuffing it in his mouth and chewing noisily. I paused before continuing.

‘But tell me, was Old Geng making himself a nuisance with Taitemir? Is that it? I understand he supplied goods to the household, and was always badgering them for money.'

Li laughed throatily, spitting out the remains of his food as he did so. Lin would not have liked such uncouth behaviour.

‘The fool believed he should be paid rather than think it a privilege that he supplied items to Taitemir. He was a miser, who was always complaining about having no money. Yet people would go to his house to borrow money, I am told. Though I must say there was a contrary rumour that had it that, ultimately, he was borrowing money himself. He probably put it around he had nothing as a rumour so that robbers wouldn't come and steal from him.'

I joined in his laughter, while at the same time avoiding the spray of half-eaten food coming from his full, red lips.

‘Tell me, do you see many thieves in your court?'

‘Often. And I get many complaints from people claiming their neighbour has stolen this or that. I tell them to go away and sort it out for themselves, or to leave some funds at my disposal to ensure my investigations conclude satisfactorily.' He winked at me knowingly. ‘I cannot clog the court up with neighbourly disputes, after all.'

‘Quite right too. Summary justice is the best form of justice. Next to that sort of justice whose progress is oiled with money.' I let the comment hang in the air for a moment, then went on. ‘And the thieves you do see, do they come back regularly?'

Li shook his head regretfully.

‘I am afraid there are some who do not respond to a flogging, but come back in front of me time and again. Every time they repent, and claim to have seen the error of their ways as the law demands they do. Confession is an obligatory step in the moral purpose of the courts of law. But I still see some faces too often. Like Ho Shu-heng, for example. He is a thorn in my side – a small-time thief but a thief nevertheless.'

I marvelled at Li's duplicity, casting scorn on the morals of others, when, by his own admission, he had his own snout in the trough taking bribes. I had been sure that was the case, and was about to test it now. I eased the satchel strap off my shoulder and let the flap fall open. Li's eyes opened wide when he spotted the dark sheets of paper money stuffed inside. I feigned not to notice, but continued the conversation.

‘I should like to see this Ho person when next he appears in front of you. And how you deal with him. It will all contribute to our report on the way Jianxu's case was handled when we report to the Great Khan. You will be rewarded for your cooperation, of course.'

Li lifted a hand of dismissal in the air, waving away my suggestion of payment.

‘My reward will be to have been of service to the Great Khan.'

However, I noticed that his eyes were still on the contents of my satchel. I nodded solemnly, and yet my hand still patted the bulging bag.

‘I understand perfectly, Master Li. Now I will take my leave, but I am sure we will speak again very soon.'

I had baited the hook, but wasn't going to act too hastily. I wanted to let Li get his juices flowing and his eagerness to please me to a high pitch. I rose and left the prefect licking his lips. I don't think it was the food this time that had him salivating, though.

When I got back to our temporary quarters, I saw Po Ku, Lin's servant, hurrying towards me. He indicated that his master wanted to see me immediately, and led me to him. Lin was with another tall, handsome man, whom I immediately recognized. It was the writer of plays, Guan Han-Ching, whom we had last seen in T'ai-Yuan-Fu. Both men had serious looks on their faces. On seeing me, Lin came over with uncharacteristic speed. He was not one for hurried actions or thinking, but something perturbed him.

‘Nick. Good, you are here. Guan has been telling me about his new play.'

‘Oh?'

For the life of me, I couldn't imagine why that would have worried Lin so much. Why would the trifle of a bit of play-acting be a problem? On the other hand, I was glad to see Guan, because it meant the acting troupe was in town also. I wanted to speak to Tien-jan Hsiu, the actress who had played the part of Empress Tu upon my arrival in T'ai-Yuan-Fu, about a matter related to the prefect, and something I could not speak to Lin about. I smiled at Guan, and went to shake his hand. He took my hand briefly in the Chinee way, but did not smile. Lin came up beside me.

‘Tell Master Zuliani what you have just told me, Guan.'

Guan nodded, and cleared his throat.

‘I was telling Master Lin that I want to write about Jianxu. You know I was personally involved in the petition that brought you here. Well, I want to see justice done, as I told you when we met last time.'

‘Yes and that is why
we
are here.'

Guan did not like my interjection, with its pointed reference to the fact that justice would be best served by Lin and me alone. He shook his head.