Sandalwood Death (9 page)

Up on the reviewing stand, the old eunuch bent to whisper something in the Emperor’s ear. I saw His Majesty nod. The old eunuch stepped up to the front of the reviewing stand and announced in a singsong cadence:

“His Majesty decrees: Carry out the punishment of the monstrous offender Little Insect—”

That elicited a howl from the pole-bound Little Insect:

“Your Majesty,” he wailed, “Your Majesty, be merciful and spare the life of this dog of a slave . . . your slave will never again . . .”

The Emperor’s bodyguard snapped to attention. Little Insect, his face waxen, his lips bloodless, and his eyes blinking fiercely, stopped shouting as he wet himself. Turning to us, he whispered:

“Laoye, Shaoye, do your job quickly, and when I’m down in the bowels of Hell, I will be forever grateful for your kindness . . .”

Listening to him rant was the furthest thing from our minds. It would have taken more courage than we possessed to listen to him. We could have made things easy on him by looping a rope around his neck and strangling him, but that would have been the beginning of our downfall. Even if the Emperor had granted us forgiveness, Board President Wang would not have been so charitable. We hurriedly unwrapped the instrument of torture. Grandma Yu and I held it between us—it seemed considerably heftier after passing through the hands of the Emperor and His harem—each holding one of the leather straps, and carried out our rehearsed routine: first we displayed it to the Emperor and His harem, then to Board President Wang and the other officials, and lastly to the gathering of eunuchs and palace ladies, like actors. The Head of the Office of Palace Justice, Eunuch Chen, and Board President Wang exchanged glances before calling out in unison:

“Let the execution begin!”

It was as if the heavens had eyes—the gleaming iron hoop might as well have been made for Little Insect’s head. With hardly any effort, it fit perfectly. His fetching eyes peered out from two holes in the device. Once it was in place, Grandma Yu and I, your dieh, took two steps backward and gripped the leather straps firmly. Little Insect was still muttering:

“Laoye . . . Shaoye . . . make it quick . . .”

At a time like that, who cared what he wanted? I glanced at Grandma Yu; he returned the glance. I knew what to do, and I was ready. We nodded, and I saw the beginning of a smile on Grandma Yu’s lips, the old master’s customary expression when he was working, for he was an urbane executioner. That smile was my signal to begin, so I flexed my muscles and pulled at half strength, and then quickly let up—anyone not of our profession could not detect the alternating tightening and loosening, and saw only that the leather straps were pulled taut . . . But Little Insect released a tortured cry, shrill and forceful, one that would have put the howl of a wolf in the zoological garden to shame. Knowing that this was a sound the Emperor and His women loved to hear, we kept it up, subtly tightening and loosening—no longer involved in putting a man to death, we had become conductors producing exquisite music.

That day, as it turned out, was the Autumn Equinox: the sky was blue, and the sun shone down bright, causing the red walls and glazed tiles on the roofs around us to shimmer in the light, like little reflecting mirrors. All of a sudden a terrible smell filled the air, and I knew at once that the little bastard had shit his pants. I sneaked a look at the viewing stand, where the Emperor sat staring at the scene, His face a rich golden color. Some of His consorts were ashen-faced; others looked on with the black holes of their mouths in full view. The ministers and other officials stood ramrod straight, their arms at their sides, barely able to breathe. Eunuchs and serving girls were banging their heads on the ground as if they were crushing cloves of garlic; the weakest among them had already fainted. I looked over at Grandma Yu and knew he shared my view that the results so far were about what we had expected. The time had come; Little Insect had suffered enough, and we knew that we must not let his stink reach the nostrils of the Emperor and His women. By then, some of the consorts were already covering their mouths with silk hankies. Their sense of smell was keener than the Emperor’s, who had abused His nose with snuff until it barely functioned. We needed to put an end to this quickly. If a wayward breeze rose up and carried the stink of Little Insect’s shit into the Emperor’s nose, and His Majesty was looking to place the blame somewhere, we would get more than we bargained for. Little Insect’s innards had probably turned to mush by now anyway, and that stench, which went straight to the brain, was decidedly non-human. It took all my willpower to keep from running to one side to throw up—needless to say, that was out of the question. If Grandma Yu and I had been unable to keep from retching, the impulse would have quickly spread to the viewing stand, with disaster the inevitable result. The sacrifice of our lives—Grandma Yu’s and mine—would have been inconsequential, as would the stripping of Board President Wang’s official standing. All that mattered was the health and well being of His Imperial Majesty. That thought had already entered my mind. Grandma Yu’s, too. It was time for the performance to come to an end. So, on a secret signal, we pulled the straps with all our might, squeezing the iron hoop tighter. Little by little, poor Little Insect’s head began to look like a narrow-waisted bottle gourd. The last drop of his sweat had long since left his body, and what came out of him now was a glistening, sticky, foul-smelling grease, reeking nearly as badly as the rancid crotch odor. His howls at this point used up what little of his strength remained and made my flesh crawl, despite my familiarity with killing. No one, not even someone made of iron or steel, could bear up under Yama’s Hoop. Why, not even Sun Wukong, the all but indestructible magic monkey who was tempered for forty-nine days in the Jade Emperor’s hexagram crucible without capitulating, could endure the pressure of the iron hoop placed on his head by the monk Tripitaka.

The real genius of Yama’s Hoop manifested itself in the victim’s eyes. As Grandma Yu and I slowly leaned back, the tremors of Little Insect’s body traveled through the leather straps and affected our arms. What a pity, those lovely eyes, so expressive, capable of capturing the souls of pretty maidens, slowly began to bulge in the holes of Yama’s Hoop. Black, white, streaks of red. Bigger and bigger, like eggs emerging from the backsides of mother hens, little by little, until . . .
pop
. Then another—
pop
—and Little Insect’s eyes were hanging by threads on the edge of Yama’s Hoop. That, of course, is what Grandma Yu and I had hoped would happen. We followed our planned course of action, at a snail’s pace, increasing pressure bit by bit, like inserting a carrot up a bunghole, to narrow the gourd’s waist. And when the fateful moment was at hand, we pulled the straps with one final jerk, producing a crunch. Finally, after all that time, Grandma Yu and I released loud sighs. At some point during the process, rivulets of sweat had soaked our backs, while streaks of dried chicken blood had run onto our necks; to the unfocused eye, that made us appear to be bleeding. I knew how I looked by what I saw on Grandma Yu’s face.

Little Insect was still alive, but no longer conscious and clearly on the verge of death. Brain matter and blood seeped out through the cracks in his skull. I heard the sound of women vomiting up on the viewing stand, and saw that an elderly, red-capped man had crumpled to the ground, his cap rolling off in the dirt. The moment had arrived:

“The sentence has been carried out!” we shouted in unison. “May it please Your Excellency!”

Board President Wang looked at us over the sleeve covering the lower half of his face, then turned to the viewing stand, assumed a respectful rigid stance, raised his hand, and, with a flicking of his sleeve, knelt in the dirt.

“The sentence has been carried out!” he announced. “May it please Your Majesty!”

Following a prolonged fit of coughing, His Imperial Majesty announced to the assemblage:

“You all saw that, yes? Let him be an example to you!”

His Majesty’s voice was not loud, but each word was clear as a bell to the people on and below the viewing stand. While His words were intended for the ears of the eunuchs and palace girls, every leader of the Six Boards, every member of the royal family, and all the ranking officials fell to their knees as if their legs had been snapped. Amid the thumping of heads on the ground, shouts of “Long live His Imperial Majesty, may He live forever!” “This unworthy official deserves a cruel death!” and “Undying gratitude to the Imperial Dragon!” vied in the air like chicken clucks and duck quacks, and that told me, your dieh, and Grandma Yu everything we needed to know about these so-called men of power.

His Majesty stood up. The old eunuch intoned:

“Return to the Palace!”

The Emperor was carried away.

Followed by His royal consorts.

And the palace eunuchs.

Only a clutch of snot-worthy officials and Little Insect, who had died like a tiger, remained.

My legs were so rubbery I could barely stand, and golden stars danced before my eyes. If Grandma Yu had not reached out to hold me up, I would have crumpled to the ground next to Little Insect’s corpse before the royal procession had left the site.

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How dare you glare at me like that!

I’ve nearly talked myself out, and by now you should understand why I had the nerve to rage against those yayi. If an insignificant County Magistrate, an official about as important as a sesame seed, thinks he can summon me by sending a pair of lackeys to my house, he has too high an opinion of himself. In the presence of the Xianfeng Emperor and the consort who would one day become the Empress Dowager, I, your dieh, had done something that would make your knees buckle before I’d reached my twentieth birthday. When it was all over, word came from the palace that His Imperial Majesty, He with the mouth of gold and speech of jade, had said:

“The executioners from the Board of Punishments performed their task well—methodical, cadenced, and measured. We were treated to a fine performance!”

Justice Board President Wang was granted the title of Junior Guardian to the Crown Prince and was promoted in the official hierarchy. To show his appreciation for this happy turn of events, he presented each of us with two pieces of red silk. Now go ask that Qian fellow if he has ever laid eyes on the Xianfeng Emperor. The answer will be no. Why, he has never even been in the presence of the current occupant of the Dragon Throne, the Guangxu Emperor. How about the Empress Dowager, has he ever seen Her face? Again, no. Not even Her back. And that is why I, your dieh, am not afraid to assume superior airs with him.

I believe that Qian Ding, the Gaomi County Magistrate, will personally come with an invitation, not because he wants to, but at the behest of Governor Yuan. His Excellency and I have met on several occasions. I once did a job for him and did it well, so well, in fact, that he rewarded me with a box of Tianjin’s Eighteenth Street Crullers. I know you think that since I have barely stepped out of the house in all the months I have been back, I am little more than a rotting log. Well, for your information, I am being clever by acting dumb. There is a mirror inside me that lets me see the world for exactly what it is. My dear daughter-in-law, do you believe that I do not know what you have been up to? My son is an idiot, so I cannot blame you for sneaking around the way you have been doing. You are a woman, a young woman, and there is nothing wrong with being hot-blooded in ways that involve men. I know that your dieh nearly turned the world upside down and that he is now rotting in prison. The Germans demanded his arrest by name, and not a soul in this county, or for that matter all of Shandong, would dare set him free. He will not escape death. Excellency Yuan Shikai is ruthless. To him, killing a man is no different than squashing a bedbug. He is a man so favored by the foreigners that even the Empress Dowager must rely upon him to get things done. The way I see it, your dieh’s life is a pawn in Excellency Yuan’s plans. He wants to show not only the Germans, but the people of Gaomi County and all of Shandong the benefits of being law-abiding citizens and the cost of murder, arson, and banditry. The Imperial Court has given the Germans permission to build their railroad, and that has nothing to do with your dieh. He is like a carpenter locked in stocks of his own creation, a victim of his own actions. You cannot save him, and neither can that Qian fellow of yours. Son, the time has come for you and me to act. It was my wish to, as they say, wash my hands in the golden basin, to keep a low profile and end my days in my country home. But the powers that be have decreed otherwise. This morning, these hands of mine began to itch and grow hot, and I now know that my work is not yet finished. It is heaven’s will, from which there is no escape. As for you, daughter-in-law, you accomplish nothing by weeping or venting your loathing. I was the recipient of the Empress Dowager’s magnanimity, and will do nothing to displease or dishonor the Court. If I do not kill your dieh, someone else will, and he will be better off in my hands than at the mercy of a butcher, what we call a three-legged cat. There is a popular adage that goes, “If you’re kin, you’re family.” I will do everything in my power to ensure that his is a spectacular death, one that will go down in history. Son, I am going to help you make a name for yourself that will open the eyes of your neighbors. They find us beneath them, do they not? Well and good, we will show them that what is known as “execution” is an art, one that a good man will not do and anyone who is not a good man cannot do. Executioner is an occupation that represents the heart and soul of the Imperial Court. When the calling flourishes, the Imperial Court prospers. But when it languishes, the Imperial Court nears its fated end.

Son, I am using the time before Eminence Qian’s palanquin arrives to fill you in on family affairs. I was afraid that if I did not say this to you today, there might not be another chance.

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