The Tapestries (8 page)

As the wind rasped in his ears, the lute next to him vibrated. It was as if the wind had become fingers walking atop the strings. The song ended when the maid caught him in her arms.

Ven climbed out last, making a thud as she fell from the windowsill onto the wet soil. With Dan curled in a fetal position, the maid fastened the basket around Ven's back. Ven crawled on the grass to get under the raised wooden walkway that cut across the garden. Song followed her a few steps behind.

Once they found an ideal place to hide, she unhooked the basket from her shoulders and swung it in front of her. She wanted Dan to watch what was happening with an unobstructed view. From their position under the esplanade, with the thick floorboards above their heads and the wind to muffle any sounds their movements might make, the women and Dan could spy on the visitors without much fear of discovery.

F
ollowing gruff orders from inside the vehicle, the first two soldiers fell out of rank and ran to the front of the car. They propped their torches on the ground on either side of the house's main entrance. Placing their hands against the black granite, they pushed open the gates and stepped aside for the car to enter. The dark and luxurious sedan, reflecting the fires in the soldiers' hands, took on the color of a cockroach's wings. Its thick glass windows hid the passengers.

The majestic car lumbered along the white-brick path and stopped in front of the veranda. Like the tail of a massive scorpion, the military men kept up with it. Their feet clobbered the bricks, sending a chill down Dan's spine.

The back door of the car swung open, and two men stepped out. Dan felt Ven's hand wrap around his face. He wanted to pull away, but she was too strong. Her work-roughened fingers left just enough room around his nose for him to breathe. From somewhere above his head, he could hear her whisper with disbelief. “Oh, dear God, it's Master Long,” she said.

“And his father, Magistrate Toan,” Song added.

A third man emerged from the car. He wore a strange black suit, and his face bristled with light-colored fur that sprouted like the brushing end of a new broom. His eyes reflected the light like a housecat's, as he scanned the surroundings with an imperial mien. The two Vietnamese men stood beside him. Their bodies appeared diminutive as they bowed, bobbing their heads like two excited pigeons during the mating season.

The foreigner looked at Master Long and spoke a string of odd words. His thick fingers sliced the air in counterpoint to his bizarre speech. Magistrate Toan leaned closer to his son and cast a brief but expressive glance at the foreigner. “What did the French captain say?” he asked.

“The mandarin wanted to confirm that we have taken him to the correct address of the rebels,” Master Long answered. His short, pomaded hair copied the Frenchman's style, in contrast to his father's traditional headdress.

Magistrate Toan urged his son, “Tell him yes, quickly.”

Master Long said a few words to the French official. As they conversed, Magistrate Toan stood next to his son, waiting impatiently to receive the information from the foreign dignitary. “What did he say just now?” he asked, seizing his son's arm when the two men grew silent once more.

“He wants to search the entire place for clues of the rebels,” Master Long translated. “Also, he ordered the arrest of everyone inside, regardless of age.”

Under the shadow of the hiding place, Ven exhaled. “Bastards,” she said under her breath. “It is unfortunate that our master placed his trust in these poisonous people. They are dangerous not only to our family, but to the very air the Cam Le Village breathes.”

Song placed a finger against her lips to plead for Ven's silence.

On the veranda, Master Long, followed by his men, traversed the long walk to the living room. Once they disappeared behind the door, Dan listened to the sounds of furniture being thrown on the floor or smashed against a wall. Through the opaque windows, he caught sight of a torch leaping from room to room. Shadows of men danced against the white parchment paper of the windows. Their images reminded him of the stories his father often told about monsters who were half men, half goat, and who ascended from Hell to steal the souls of the living. Dan covered his ears with his hands. Still, he could not block out the sounds of destruction.

Outside, in front of the ornamental vase on the wooden stand, Magistrate Toan and the French mandarin awaited the soldiers' return with visible impatience. The magistrate, with terror in his eyes, studied the foreigner, hoping for some positive words, dreading to see a frown. More than half an hour went by, an eternity to Dan, before Master Long and his men emerged from different doors of the house and reassembled in the courtyard.

Master Long stepped out of the living room, staggering under the load over his shoulder. A few strands of pearls peeked out from his front pockets. His face wore a grin. Like him, the soldiers clutched large bundles on their backs. With each step they took, the clanking of metallic objects stirred the night like the rattle of ghostly chains. Others came from behind the house, leading Dan's entire collection of barnyard animals, including cows, horses, pigs, and cages of poultry, as well as a pair of oxen Song had rented the month before from a farmer in the neighboring village. Under the men's prodding, the animals moved in rows, following the fires held high in the soldiers' hands.

The French official and Master Long exchanged some words. But the foreigner did not seem satisfied with Master Long's response. He turned away and folded his arms in front of his chest. Master Long tried to speak, but the mandarin became livid. In front of the shocked soldiers, he blurted out some loud comments, then strode to the sedan and kicked its front tire.

Looking at his father, Master Long explained, “The mandarin wanted to know if I found any evidence against the fisherman. When I told him that I had found nothing, he wanted to examine these bags. Once I informed him that they contained the fortunes I had confiscated from the rebels' home, he lost his temper. He even called us a bunch of greedy monkeys.”

“I see,” the old man whispered, trying to maintain an air of poise.

“Do not worry, Father,” Master Long said. “He will soon cool from his temper. Then, I shall provide him with the evidence he needs in exchange for these profits in our hands. Be merry, because tonight we have stumbled upon a great fortune.”

From where Dan sat, he could not see Magistrate Toan's face, but he clearly heard the sound of his laughter. He wondered if this could be just a nightmare. The things he had witnessed seemed outrageous. Yet Ven's hand against his mouth assured him that he was not dreaming.

Dan's legs grew numb from staying in the same position for too long. He stirred, but Ven held him tighter. He tried to peel her fingers off and at the same time kicked the bamboo basket with his feet. Ven would not yield. Though her silent strength dominated him, the boy would not be still. The bottom of the basket scratched against the sand beneath it.

“Who's there?” Magistrate Toan called out to the dark garden from his vantage point on the veranda. Dan saw the old man's face, looking straight at him.

The boy froze. Magistrate Toan's sharp eyes seemed to hypnotize him, making him weak with fear. Several torches pointed toward the wooden walk. Unfortunately for the refugees, the combined lights were strong enough to reach their hiding place. However, as they remained unmoving, the soldiers were unable to make out their cowering figures under the floorboards.

“Who's there?” Magistrate Toan repeated. When dealing with the villagers, he always used his most intimidating voice, and its tone played a crucial role in implementing his power.

The Frenchman pulled out a pistol from inside his jacket. Without a word, he cocked the gun and aimed at the garden. Dan was hypnotized by the dark, round opening of the gun. He felt helpless, like a chicken waiting for an ax to fall on its neck.

Song touched Ven's hand. Her voice was barely audible above the rustling wind. “Listen to me, madam. Move away quickly from this place after I surrender. Take care of the young master. If you want him to stay alive, don't let them capture him.”

Without waiting for Ven's reply, Song ran out from her hiding place. She raised her hands over her head and cried, “Please don't shoot me. I am just a lowly servant. Have pity on me.”

Master Long whispered something in the foreigner's ear, and the man placed his gun in its case, which hung around his waist under his jacket. At the same time, Magistrate Toan waved his fingers in Song's direction, and two soldiers ran to seize her. Together they dragged her across the yard to face the old man. She pulled against their grasp, but they twisted her arms behind her shoulders, forcing her legs to bend. Beneath the swirl of hair, her face was as white as her shirt. Her head fell to her shoulder, and she swooned.

“I heard talking,” Magistrate Toan shouted at Song, waking the girl up. “Who else was out there with you?”

“I was alone,” Song whispered. “What you heard might have been my prayer to Heaven, sir.”

Ven crept from under the wooden path, pulling Dan and the basket deeper into the darkness of the shrubbery. She muttered in his ear, “Did you see what trouble you have caused Song? Please stay still from now on, I beg you, Master.” But her voice contained more sorrow than reprimand.

Her pleas were unnecessary. Dan would not dare to move even a muscle after what had happened. Nevertheless, he could not tear his eyes from the spectacle that was occurring thirty paces away.

Despite his age, Magistrate Toan jumped closer to Song with the ease of a panther. He snatched a burning torch from a soldier. With his other hand, he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head backward, so that he could look down at her. The torch came down near her face as their eyes locked. The magistrate's nose was only inches from hers.

“Speak to me, slave,” he shouted. “Who else is hiding out there? Say it before I scar your face with this torch.”

“Nobody is here but me, sir,” she said with difficulty.

He brandished the fire closer, until her hair was the same shade as the roaring torch. From a distance, it looked as if her hair had caught fire. Song closed her eyes.

“Where are they then? Where is Lady Yen?”

“My Third Mistress left with her son in a carriage late this afternoon. I know not where she is heading. A true servant shall not be inquisitive about her mistress's plans, but simply obey her order. I stayed behind because I have no other place to go, and it was her wish for me to remain here.”

“Why?” he asked, as he handed the torch to one of his men.

“To guard their home until she or the master comes back. Alone in the house, I became frightened, especially when an army of strangers came in at midnight. I did not know what else to do but hide.”

The magistrate couldn't seem to take his eyes from Song's face. She took a step backward, but the two soldiers tightened their hold on her arms, forcing her to be still. The flickering tongues of the fire made her rosy skin flush and her eyes glisten. With his right hand he toyed with the gold band on the third finger of his left hand, thrusting his finger in and out of the ring with increasing speed.

His voice lost its severity. “You are indeed a very attractive servant. Your master is a blind man to ignore such a beautiful flower right under his roof.”

Song said coldly, “I am a married woman. My husband may have passed on, but I am devoting the rest of my life to him. Please have respect for the dead, sir.”

“Hmm,” the old man said with a frown. “Now that you mention the word
married,
where is that daughter-in-law of the Nguyen family?”

“She also ran off. I think she is returning to her family.”

“That miserable wench,” Magistrate Toan said. Then, after a brief pause, he turned to a soldier and ordered, “Send out a search warrant for all of them in the morning. They couldn't have gone very far, especially that peasant bride. It will, however, be a difficult assignment to hunt for her, since no one in this town seems to have ever seen her. I understand that the fisherman's family hid her in shame even on the night of her wedding feast. Her features were said to be too coarse for her to pass for a lady. I think we will have more luck finding her at her maiden home than waiting for her to resurface in this town.”

Master Long took the old man by the elbow. “Father,” he said. “I think it is time for us to leave.”

The old magistrate nodded. “Make sure every animal is out,” he said. “Then burn the place down. The owner of this house once held a noble status among the fishermen in the village. Reducing his property to ashes will teach the rest of his men a lesson and keep scavengers away.” Turning to Song, he said, “As for you, little girl, you are under arrest and will be prosecuted later. I will personally act as judge to determine your fate.”

He ordered to Song's two captors, “Take her back to my mansion.”

Magistrate Toan led the march toward the Nguyen family's main house, holding his torch up high like a flaming sword. No longer a feeble old man, he strode forward, a fierce and bony soldier, ready to fight. At the front door, he paused to give the soldiers time to get outside the gates of the compound. Master Long stood in the garden, watching his father twirl his weapon in the dark night. A proud smile blossomed on his face.

The first thing Magistrate Toan burned was the wooden stand that supported the eucalyptus in the shape of a phoenix. Its ancient wood caught fire readily. Soon, the weak blaze reached the sculpted tree, and sparkles of embers crackled and flew like tiny stars. Next, the old man set fire to the panels of doors as he ran inside the house. Through the windows, Dan watched as his father's library went up in flames. The magistrate dashed from room to room, applying the spark to anything flammable in sight. The flames, small at first, shone in the darkness like so many lanterns. Slowly they coalesced to form bigger fires, licking at the walls like a thousand red snakes. The strong wind helped fuel the flames. Before long, the sulfurous hue of the inferno climbed to the magnificent roof, and the sky lit up in brilliant orange.