Taming Poison Dragons (49 page)

I was shown to a plain chamber, its barred windows overlooking a courtyard. Throughout the interview that followed, I had ample opportunity to witness a prisoner strapped to a pole, being whipped by a disgruntled guard.

The warder was a palace eunuch, flabby and bare-chested.

Though the prisoner winced and cried out the guard could not stop yawning. His boredom affected me deeply.

The lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou gestured at a jug of water on the table. I drained it in long gulps, my throat working furiously. After that I felt more myself. It is strange how dignity depends on essential needs. When I sat back, gasping with relief, I found him watching me. As always, his expression was unreadable.

‘Matters are proceeding according to my plans,’ he announced, with quiet satisfaction.

I was still too close to that vile cell to respond as such a comment deserved.

‘You appear shaken, Yun Cai,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it is because you do not have a sword to lend you courage.’

I might have guessed he had not liked me waving my sword around.

‘What is the accusation against me?’ I croaked.

He blinked.

‘There is no accusation,’ he said.

‘Then why am I. . . Why am I
here
?’

‘Because you are a witness. I can hardly be expected to protect you from ordinary procedures.’

Assuming he wanted to. I waited sullenly.

‘I’m glad your fiery loquaciousness has been dampened for once,’ he said.

It was only then I understood how much he disliked me.

‘It means we can get straight to business. So listen carefully. Lord Xiao has been arraigned as I predicted. Indeed, he is being held in this very prison. Naturally, his quarters are more salubrious than your own. Nevertheless he is a prisoner and stands accused.’

I nodded.

‘Of what?’

‘Many charges,’ said the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou regretfully. ‘All serious. You need not concern yourself with them. Your sole purpose is to confirm the provenance of the three scrolls you found in Pinang. All I require of you is that you tell the truth when you are called before the judges. That you found them in your predecessor’s robes, that his name was Lu Sung, that you inherited his position as Chief of the Bureau of Fallen Heroes. Do not speculate, do not utter a single opinion. State only the facts. I assume that is not too difficult?’

I licked my lips.

‘Will I have to return to that cell?’ I asked.

‘Of course.’

‘For how long?’

‘Not long, the trial is imminent.’

‘I cannot go back there. I will make a shabby witness if I go back there. That cell might send me mad.’

He seemed to consider this.

‘Well, we don’t want that,’ he said, at last. ‘I shall arrange for you to be held in more congenial surroundings.’

‘Will those surroundings contain food?’ I asked.

‘If you like,’ he said, impatiently. ‘Why not?’

My eyes flickered to the prisoner being whipped outside. He was unconscious. I almost envied his insensibility.

Yuan Chu-Sou was as good as his word. I was taken under guard through the palace grounds, passing the Deer Park Library where I had spent so many delightful hours.

Finally I reached a small temple capped by a four-storey pagoda near the palace walls.

The Temple of Flying Petals was used once every five years to applaud the Son of Heaven’s ancestors and their gift of blossom. This was to be my new prison until the trial of which Yuan Chu-Sou had spoken.

You might say I was lucky. No, I
was
lucky. My lenient treatment showed how badly Lord Xiao’s case stood, though I scarcely realised it at the time. Yet before we parted, the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou had whispered to me,

‘You know that Lord Xiao has been scheduled for torture, don’t you?’

I looked at him as though he was deranged.

‘Such a man is not liable for torture,’ I replied. ‘He is not like other men.’

Yuan Chu-Sou seemed delighted by my reply.

‘But he is, Yun Cai! Step by step, he descends to the level of you and I. Though I suspect you lack the wit to appreciate it.’

Such certainty of his power over me! He felt he could insult me at will. Yet I retained a few stings.

‘Lord Xiao might fall,’ I said. ‘But if I was ambitious for high office, which I am not, I would be wary of offending his friends.’

His eyes narrowed.

‘Make sure you deliver the testimony I have taught you,’ he said.

I pretended not to hear his interruption.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ I said, as though thinking aloud. ‘If those who are so eager to bring about Lord Xiao’s destruction, distanced themselves from the means by which their enemy had been brought low, as soon as his fall was accomplished. Surely, that is mere prudence.’

He took my meaning all right. When young, it was always my destiny to speak rashly and regret it later.

‘That will not occur in this case,’ he muttered.

But the doubt had been planted. As I was escorted to the Temple of Flying Petals, it afforded me a slight satisfaction. After all, what applied to him was equally true for myself.

The Temple of Flying Petals was overseen by a single monk, so old that I believed he would not witness the Son of Heaven’s next sacrifice there. The temple was the size of a long pavilion, its pagoda attached to the side of the building. It possessed a single entrance, easily guarded.

The monk slept and ate in a room behind the altar, passing his days in rituals no one bothered to witness, except perhaps the gods. Certainly he was diligent in his duties, as I saw with my own eyes for I was forbidden to leave the place except to relieve myself behind a stand of bamboo adjoining the palace walls. Twice a day meals were brought to me, simple dishes of rice and vegetables, cold by the time they had made their long journey from the nearest kitchen. Anxious thoughts, often concerning Su Lin, filled each wakeful moment. We had no means of communication. I could neither receive nor send the simplest letter unless it passed through the Office of the Censor. At night I slept beside the altar on a pile of blankets provided by the monk.

Each day my trepidation grew. The old monk would come upon me as I sat hugging my knees on the altar steps. He would lay his withered hand on my shoulder, his touch as light as paper.

‘I have prayed and received a favourable sign,’ he said.

‘Soon you will be reborn as blossom, which is to say, as a cloud.’

Though I tried to appear grateful everyone knows that, to be reborn, first one must die.

That same day, the threads of my destiny tightened. The doors of the temple were flung open and there, splendidly robed, stood the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou. He swept past the guards with their plumed helmets and halberds, clanging the double doors behind him. Echoes filled the dark altar-room. I rose tentatively. His scowl alerted me that all was not well.

He did not bother to bow before the image of the Blossom God and I had no doubt bad luck must follow.

‘It is usual to make three prostrations before the holy image,’ I said, hoping the god heard me. ‘Even the Son of Heaven does as much.’

The old monk sat beside me, nodding his approval, but the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou glared at him.

‘I wish to speak to Yun Cai alone,’ he said. ‘And at once.’

Grumbling, the monk retired to his private chamber.

Yuan Chu-Sou looked around for somewhere to sit.

Finding nowhere, he stood before me while I lounged on the altar steps.

‘You seem at home,’ he said, sarcastically.

I did not reply, but waited.

‘You may wonder why I have come to see you so soon after our last meeting,’ he said, in a brittle voice.

‘I can guess the reason.’

He sniffed.

‘I suspect not,’ he replied. ‘You should know that your importance in the proceedings against Lord Xiao has increased. Do you remember Secretary Wen?’

How could I forget him?

‘Only too well,’ I said.

‘Your habitual flippancy is misplaced,’ he said. ‘I must inform you that Secretary Wen has been found hanging from his feet beneath Blue Peony Bridge. Not only was his throat cut but many burns on his body indicate that he was tortured before he died.’

I blinked at him.

‘But who . . ?’

‘We must assume friends of Lord Xiao,’ said Yuan Chu-Sou, evidently flustered. ‘We must also assume he talked before he died. I bitterly regret telling such a fool the details of our case. It is very unfortunate.’

Particularly for Secretary Wen. I did not speak my thought.

‘That means,’ he continued. ‘You are now my principle witness. The scrolls you found have become ever more important and, with them, your testimony.’

He had my entire attention now. I was alarmed to see so still a man pace up and down.

‘Surely Lord Xiao has confessed under torture,’ I said.

‘You told me he has been tortured.’

Yuan Chu-Sou stopped pacing. His eyes glinted red in the guttering candle light.

‘Either the torturer was incompetent, or bribed, or Lord Xiao is a man of peculiar fortitude. For he has not confessed.’

It was no good to wish myself a thousand
li
distant.

‘I’m sure you realise the implications for your own position,’ he said.

I shook my head, pretending naivety.

‘Then I will explain. Firstly, should Lord Xiao be acquitted, your role as witness will become a crime in itself. Secondly, those who decided that Secretary Wen should be removed may reach the same conclusion concerning yourself. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Very,’ I said.

He resumed his pacing, apparently lost in thought.

‘So you came here to warn me to be on my guard?’ I said.

He did not deign to reply.

‘When will the trial take place?’ I asked.

‘Soon. Lord Xiao’s supporters will seek a swift trial before fresh charges can be gathered.’

‘And what of His August Excellency? Can he not influence the judges in our favour?’

Again the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou glared at me.

‘His August Excellency has nothing to do with this prosecution,’ he said. ‘You would be well-advised to remember that at all times.’

Then I understood the precariousness of our position.

We were husks caught between the grinding stones of two great men.

‘I would strongly suggest that you take care what you eat,’ he said. ‘Even in the palace, no,
especially
in the palace. Poison has a habit of silencing unwelcome tongues.’

*

After he had gone, I climbed the spiral stairs of the pagoda until I reached the topmost storey. From there I could look out across the palace grounds. A small herd of deer stood beneath a clump of elegant pines. Buildings rose, filling the sky with soaring roofs and gatehouses. I could see the guardsmen assigned to keep me captive conferring on the gravel path below. They, at least, seemed contented. They would draw their rations each day and fear nothing much, protected by their lowly position from dangerous choice.

When I turned to the south I could see the countryside beyond the River Che, coloured hills and monkey-haunted woods, villages where a man might learn peace.

And elsewhere I could see the rooftops of the city, the West Lake glinting, aware Su Lin might be walking in her garden, perhaps thinking of me, perhaps not. P’ei Ti would be at his desk, his fingers black with ink, while I waited like a lonely ghost.

I noticed a pair of carriages crossing the Imperial Deer Park, their occupants hidden by large, gaudy umbrellas.

Beside them rode an escort of soldiers, red pennants fluttering in the autumn breeze.

The carriages neared the Temple of Flying Petals and halted a little way off. I craned from the window in the pagoda but could not identify my visitors. A familiar, coiffed head of black hair peeped out. Then I was running down the spiral steps, two at a time until I reached the temple entrance. Pulling open the heavy doors I surprised my guards, who at once blocked the way with their halberds.

Before me, just beyond the limits of the courtyard, was a sight to make me reckless. In the first carriage, reclining against a cushion, was Su Lin, evidently distressed, her face hidden by a sumptuous pink fan. Stern and upright in the second carriage sat P’ei Ti. I called out in pleasure, certain my liberty had come. The presence of friends dispelled all the shadows cast by the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou.

P’ei Ti climbed down stiffly and saw me in the doorway.

He waved impatiently to the guards that I should be allowed to pass. I rushed out to greet him. We did not speak, but embraced. Then he nodded towards the carriage where Su Lin leant out, beseeching me to come to her with eloquent eyes.

‘We can only risk a brief meeting,’ muttered P’ei Ti.

‘Even that is too much, though she insisted on it.

Remember, you do not wish to implicate her.’

I walked over and stood beside the carriage. She held out her hand and I clasped it feverishly. Its softness revived hope.

‘You are the being in my eyes,’ I said – though, in truth, they were full of tears.

Her own glistened.

‘We do not have long,’ she whispered.

‘One moment is a hundred years,’ I said.

She shook her head though I could tell my words pleased her. They were all I had to offer.

‘I hear bad things,’ she said, peering at my prison.

‘Do they treat you well here? This is a strange kind of gaol.’

‘It is a holy place,’ I said. ‘So I am quite comfortable.

But it is you I wish to hear about. Are you well? Do you suffer any annoyance from those who mean us harm? You must tell me quickly.’

‘No, nothing. My life continues as before.’

‘You are not threatened or harassed?’

She smiled at me uncertainly.

‘I have regular engagements. His August Excellency ensures that I do not suffer. His generosity towards me does not flag.’

At this my jealousy rose. How such passions demean a man! She must have sensed my doubt, for a look of concern crossed her beautiful face.

‘He is everything we rely on,’ she pleaded. ‘You must trust me! I will not draw him forward too far. Our only thought must be to please him.’