Breaking Bamboo (41 page)

His Honour watched impassively as the accused fell to his knees and wearily pressed his forehead to the earthen floor.

‘Commence with the impeachments against Dr Yun Shih,’ he announced in a singsong voice to emphasise the gravity of the situation.

Cao listened to the charges. First Dr Du Mau showed a letter he had received from the Physician’s Guild in the capital, Linan.

Its contents did not entirely surprise her: that a scandal had occurred, contrary to all natural relations. That an apprentice had eloped with his master’s daughter. That property had vanished when they fled the capital with
cash
and valuable medical equipment. No blame was offered against the girl, for it was assumed she must be a dupe to the male in the case. Cao bristled inwardly at these charges: was the best part of her life a crime?

‘And you testify, Dr Du Mau,’ drawled His Honour. ‘That this letter passed through the blockade around our beloved Twin Cities. How strange, sir! Please explain.’

Dr Du Mau seemed surprised by this question, and not a little displeased.

‘Everyone knows, Your Honour,’ he said. ‘That messages and much more besides reach us from the capital, if one is willing to pay a very high price. It is true, however, that a gentleman with great influence was involved. I fear it would be indiscreet to mention his name in so public a place.’

His Honour nodded understandingly.

‘I believe there is also a witness.’

All attention shifted to Chung, who fell to his knees. Until now the crowd there to support Dr Shih had maintained a prudent silence. Many present remembered the orphan boy nurtured by the man he now accused. Others recollected Chung’s weakness for gambling and that the same fault had brought about his father’s suicide. Above all, their sense of
xiao
was outraged. The discomfort on Chung’s face revealed an awareness of his unfilial conduct.

‘Well then,’ said His Honour. ‘What are you?’

Chung bowed so many times while naming himself he resembled a bobbing heron.

‘What do you know that is relevant to this case?’

Quite unexpectedly, Chung prostrated himself so that he was almost flat on the earthen floor of the courtroom: a sign of respect evidently not displeasing to His Honour.

‘Madam Cao over there once told me that she and the master – as he was then, sir, though he is no more, now I am Dr Du Mau’s loyal servant – that my
then
master, Dr Shih, ran away with her for love and without her father’s permission, for her father, a Dr Ou-yang, sir, or so she claimed, was dead, and so he could not grant it.’

His Honour watched Chung with interest.

‘Proceed,’ he ordered.

‘And, sir,’ said Chung, in a rush. ‘It means they never married at all. Yet they passed themselves off as respectable people. They deceived the trust of their neighbours, Your Honour, and of His Excellency Wang Ting-bo.’

These last phrases sounded as though they had been planted in the youth’s mouth. For a moment there was silence in the long room. The crowd digested his words. Someone behind Cao muttered: ‘It is a fault in Dr Shih, but marrying without permission is hardly unknown in Water Basin Ward.’

His Honour examined the top of Dr Shih’s bent head. Cao followed the judge’s gaze. The lofty thought processes of such a personage were unfathomable. Yet she did not like the way His Honour kept glancing at Dr Du Mau, as though for approval. The Du clan were powerful, especially across the water in Fouzhou. His Honour shrugged, washing his hands of the matter.

‘Damning evidence,’ he announced, reverting to a sing-song voice. ‘Does the accused have anything to say in his defence?’

Dr Shih’s head remained bowed for a long moment. Then he slowly looked up. His eyes sought out Madam Cao. Cracked lips tried to smile reassuringly when he found her. After that he did not shift his attention from her face.

‘Do you offer no defence?’ repeated His Honour, irritably.

Still Shih stared longingly at Cao, so that she felt herself blush before his steady look. The accused man turned towards the judge. A proud and disdainful expression transformed Shih’s face, and he seemed about to speak. Never had he looked more like the resolute Captain Xiao.

‘The charges against me relate to unfilial conduct,’ he said, his voice weak and slightly breathless. ‘Yet if I am to be con-demned for a love-match, how many thousands in Nancheng must follow? The city is full of such marriages, as all know.

True justice. . .’ He coughed, painfully. ‘Comprehends the human heart.’

Shih glanced again at his wife, the corners of his mouth lifting a little. His gentle brown eyes did not waver as he added:

‘And I wish my wife to know that I regret nothing! Nothing!

This foolish charge least of all. If I am to be found guilty for marrying such a lady then the law is unnatural. And quite at fault. Not her. Never her.’

Many in the crowd muttered approvingly at this fine speech.

Old Hsu, in particular, nodded gravely. His Honour scowled and said: ‘Be warned, if you offend me, I shall include your wife in the charges.’

Shih stiffened, his eyes opening wide. Then his shoulders sagged.

‘In that case, sir,’ he said. ‘I have nothing more to say.’

His Honour sniffed, exchanging a look of satisfaction with Dr Du Mau.

‘That settles the matter. My judgment is as follows. . .’

Before he could utter it, a slender, angry figure rose stiffly to his feet. Cao tried to persuade Old Hsu to kneel but the old man shook her off.

‘I cannot remain silent!’ he cried. ‘It is obvious this court intends to punish my good neighbour, Dr Shih! And quite unjustly!’

Old Hsu’s supporters murmured until their voices filled the room. His Honour watched through cold eyes. The court officials stirred uneasily, taking hold of their bamboo clubs.

‘Dr Shih is a good man!’ continued Old Hsu. ‘Let him be, I say! That is true justice!’

At this the crowd broke into applause. His Honour nodded sagely.

‘I am interested in your arguments,’ he said. ‘Indeed, you are familiar, old sir, from my inspection of Apricot Corner Court.

Let the courtroom be emptied of everyone except Dr Shih’s close neighbours, then I can question you further.’

This seemed entirely proper to Old Hsu – in many cases the law made one answerable for the crimes of one’s neighbours.

Had he been a lawyer he would have known it did not apply here. For the wickedness laid against Dr Shih pre-dated the accused man’s residence at Apricot Corner Court.

As it was, Old Hsu enthusiastically ushered the crowd of supporters outside, just as the judge directed. Cao waited, all the while trying to catch Shih’s eye. For the first time the accused wore a hopeful expression, yet kept his forehead low.

When the courtroom was almost empty and Old Hsu’s allies had gone, His Honour turned to the constables: ‘All Dr Shih’s neighbours display a shameful, rebellious spirit. Their presence implies a criticism of the Son of Heaven’s benevolent rule.

Therefore all residents of Apricot Corner Court shall suffer collective punishment. Five strokes of the bamboo for each of them!’

A stunned silence greeted these words. Widow Mu cried out in fear and half-rose. Then she dragged her daughter, Lan Tien, forward.

‘Your Honour,’ pleaded Widow Mu. ‘We are not all to blame! It is Old Hsu! He threatened to hurt me and my daughter if we did not come here. It was him, sir, not us! I beg you!’

His Honour’s frown deepened.

‘Is this true?’ he demanded.

Old Hsu shook his head contemptuously.

‘Your Excellency!’ wailed Widow Mu, beside herself with fear. ‘He holds traitorous views, sir! He claims the Mongols are our brothers, or could be!’

Now His Honour leaned forward.

‘Do you?’ he asked, quietly.

‘All men have the potential to be brothers,’ declared Old Hsu, while his sons desperately tried to hush him.

‘Constables, take hold of this outrageous fellow,’ ordered His Honour.

The fan-maker gasped as his arms were seized, but did not struggle.

‘I sentence him to five extra strokes! He shall receive what the woman and her daughter are spared.’

But Old Hsu seemed uncowed: ‘This is not just!’ he declared.

Now His Honour flushed with rage.

‘Very well, fifteen strokes!’

‘Why do you keep looking to that doctor in fine silks for his approval?’ jeered Old Hsu. ‘Who is judge here? Him or you?’

‘I sentence you to twenty strokes!’ roared His Honour.

‘Is this proof you possess the Mandate of Heaven?’

‘Thirty strokes! Constable, let the sentence be carried out at once!’

Again the courtroom was silent except for Widow Mu’s sobs.

Old Hsu was approaching his seventh decade. So many blows were likely to have only one effect. The constables muttered among themselves, none eager to take the lead. At last, the youngest was chosen by his fellows. He swished the thick bamboo to test it.

Two constables tore Old Hsu’s shirt so that his spindly spine was revealed. One could see his ribs pressing against papery skin. Cao glanced in horror at His Honour. Perhaps he regretted his angry judgement, for sweat had appeared on the fleshy forehead beneath the brim of his purple hat. But to alter his sentence now would entail loss of dignity. His Honour swallowed, moistening a dry throat.

‘Proceed!’ he said.

Even Dr Du Mau demurred.

‘You Honour!’ he broke in. ‘This brings us no nearer to punishing Dr Yun Shih! May I beg that the old man wait his turn!’

‘Proceed!’

Yet His Honour was not to be granted the last word. Old Hsu unexpectedly called out: ‘One day the Great Society will sweep away all corruption! Men will live as brothers, whether you like it or not, and wise judges shall dispense justice freely!’

After such an outburst the bamboo-wielding constable had little option but to lay on with a will. A lack of zeal might suggest agreement with the crazy old man.

The first blow fell on Old Hsu’s shoulders and he collapsed.

Another hit him sharply across the spine, making a cracking noise. It was strange to hear an old man shriek so loudly. The third struck low down, at the base of the spine. With each blow, the young constable gained more confidence, as though beating an old man who resembled his grandfather was quite customary. He bent his knee stylishly and acquired a rhythm.

After the fifteenth blow, Dr Du Mau cleared his throat.

‘Your Honour,’ he said. ‘As an experienced practitioner, I must advise you that the constable is beating a corpse.’

The judge rose awkwardly, pushing back his high chair painted with images of King Chu Jiang. He glanced nervously at the crowd outside. People were peering in through the paper-curtained windows near the entrance.

Cao felt too weak to even lift her head. Her heart beat as though it would burst, yet the rhythm in her head was of the bamboo stick rising and falling. Old Hsu’s sacrifice appalled her. She was afraid her own actions had caused his death. A gasping sob rose in her throat, yet she was too shocked to weep.

Cao could hear voices being raised. Certainly a riot was possible when Old Hsu’s fate became known. At once she understood that Wang Ting-bo would hardly be pleased with His Honour for provoking a disturbance. The last thing the authorities needed in siege-time was public disunity. This hearing, after all, involved a relative of the Twin Cities’ beloved hero, Captain Xiao. In a flash, Cao doubted whether Wang Ting-bo even knew of Shih’s imprisonment.

‘We will adjourn,’ announced His Honour. ‘Carry away the old man at once. Those gathered outside must disperse.

Summon the Captain of the Guard so he may supervise it.’

Now it was Dr Du Mau’s turn to grow angry.

‘The verdict on Dr Shih is urgent!’ he declared.

His Honour glared back.

‘We shall deliver our final verdict on Dr Shih in a month’s time. This hearing is over.’

His Honour hurried out and the lowly people pressed their foreheads to the ground. Dr Du Mau followed after him, as did Chung, quickly rising to his feet so that he would not be left alone with his former master and neighbours.

Cao watched the gaolers drag her husband away by his manacled hands. He seemed about to call out to her. Before he could speak, the door leading to the Prefectural prison closed with a bang.

Perhaps His Honour believed no trial would be necessary in a month’s time, given the conditions Shih endured in gaol.

Perhaps his soul would already be kneeling in another court –before the Infernal Judges of Hell.

‘Disorder is the twin
of order.
Fear is the twin
of courage.
Weakness is the twin
of strength.
On dreadful ground,
hasten somewhere safer.
On death ground,
fight. . .’

From
The Art of War
by Sun-tzu 

The Yangtze, Eastern China. Summer, 1267

The Winged Relief Fleet floated on the mighty Yangtze. An Immortal, flying across Heaven, could have counted two hundred craft bobbing like water dragons on the silver ribbon below.

But dragons have wings to carry them across the Eight Directions. These ships possessed oars and stiff bamboo sails, paddlewheels driven by the hopes of a generation. Winged dragons are free to choose any roost. These ships shared one route – whether to glory or destruction no one could say.

Guang sat in the prow of an eight-oared barge, accompanying his patron, Wang Bai, to a vital ceremony. Their desperate attempt to re-provision the Twin Cities depended on securing Heaven’s favour through a properly conducted rite. The light craft passed between merchant junks so laden with supplies they rode low in the water. Sailors and soldiers watched the progress of Wang Bai’s barge from high rails and painted fore-castles, noting the Wang clan’s standard of three yellow chrysanthemums. A pair of shrieking gulls fought over scraps thrown from a war junk. When the oars dipped they released a clean river smell and trails of bubbles.

Guang noticed these small things. He remembered a poem by his illustrious ancestor where a river clearly represented love.

Tender feelings seemed weakness in days like these, and no less precious for that. He glanced with brooding eyes at Wang Bai who was staring straight ahead, long-nailed hands hidden in trailing sleeves. Ever since the secret message to Mah-Chu in the capital, his patron had avoided private conversation.