TWENTY-FIVE
A man who waits for a roast duck to fly into his mouth will wait a very long time.
‘He told me he had heard the Devil scratching at his door.’
We were all back together in the house allocated to us. Lin, Gurbesu, Tadeusz and I sat in a circle around the low table piled high with documents about this case. Jianxu was sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, revelling in its warmth, no doubt. I could hear her singing a lilting song in quiet tones. Tadeusz questioned my statement.
‘It must have been a rat or a mouse. Those prison cells have straw on the floor that has not been cleaned for weeks.’
I tilted my head, not quite so sure of his rational explanation. Normally, I would have agreed, but I knew what Sun had said next.
‘He said himself that he thought it was a rat at first, and told it to go away. When it heard his voice, it stopped scratching at his door. But then the noise began at the next cell door. The cell occupied by Wenbo. Sun claims he heard the murmur of voices.’ I looked at Tadeusz. ‘Do you know of a rat that can talk?’
The silversmith was still not convinced.
‘He probably heard Wenbo talking to himself, trying to talk himself into self-murder. Or maybe Wenbo imagined he was hearing voices, and was talking to thin air. Either way, the boy killed himself.’
‘I am not so sure.’
Lin was concerned about my story now.
‘You are not sure that Wenbo killed himself?’
‘No, I’m not. Though I don’t have a lot of evidence to back up my fears. Only the words of a half-demented doctor scared of his own shadow.’
Tadeusz indicated with a snort that he reckoned that was an accurate summary of Sun’s state of mind, and therefore he was not to be trusted. Lin, however, was still open-minded.
‘Tell us exactly what he said.’
I paused, recalling the terror in Sun’s eyes, and what he said next.
‘Then the whispering stopped, and for a moment there was silence. I heard a strange low moan. It was a man’s voice saying “no” over and over again. More and more insistent, as if whoever it was had been forced to do something against his will, and now he had changed his mind.’
Sun stopped speaking and stared down at the straw and packed earth that we both sat on. I could hear his breath coming faster and faster. I had to make him go on before he collapsed.
‘And then?’
‘And then the sound of the voice was cut off, as though a hand or a cord had been squeezed round the man’s neck, cutting off his air. I heard a wheezy gasp, then a drumming sound on the door like he was kicking it with his heels, or hitting it with his fists. It went on so long. I pressed my own fists over my ears but the sound just went on and on. Then I heard a gurgle, a sort of… death rattle, and all was still.’
The doctor looked me in the eye and asked a question.
‘Was it Geng Wenbo in the next cell?’
I nodded, grimacing. Sun groaned in despair.
‘Don’t leave me. The Devil will come for me next.’
‘Of course, I had to leave him, though I persuaded the gaoler to leave a light in his cell. Let’s just hope he doesn’t knock it over and burn himself to death.’
Gurbesu had been frowning during my retelling of Sun’s story.
‘It sounds as if he heard Wenbo being strangled against his will, rather than a self-murder. But then how would someone get into his cell to do that?’
‘No human could get inside without a key, so maybe it really was the Devil.’
She laughed at my suggestion, but it was a nervous laugh. Looking round, I felt we were all a little unsure about Sun’s evidence. In the courtyard, Jianxu’s spellbinding song, that had wound itself quietly through my recounting of Sun story, suddenly ceased. It was as if, though she couldn’t hear us, she too was perturbed by the story, and had lost the sense of happiness she had so recently found. I asked the obvious question.
‘If someone killed Wenbo, are we still sure we have found the real killer of Old Geng?’
A grim silence descended on us, which was only broken by a familiar voice.
‘What are all the gloomy looks for? Have you not solved the case?’
I sprang to my feet.
‘Alberoni, you are back.’
In the doorway stood the long, lanky figure of the friar, his shabby, patched black robe speckled with dirt. He had a broad smile on his face. I patted his shoulder and urged him into the centre of the room, where we all crowded around him. I could not wait for his news. Sure that his hunt for Prester John was a wild goose chase, I had been prepared for him to return more disconsolate than before. But he seemed to be happy enough, and he took my arm.
‘I can see, Niccolò, that you imagine my search was wasted.’
I held up my hands to signify a truce between us on the matter. But he had good news, from his point of view.
‘True, I did not find Prester John, but I learned much more about him. At the castle of Caichu I was told an intriguing story about Ung Khan.’
This was a name we had encountered before, which some thought synonymous with Prester John. Ung Khan had been the name ascribed to the old man who had given us the slip in Xanadu. Alberoni’s excitement communicated itself to us, and while Gurbesu went to fetch some food, we all sat down. The vexed matter of Wenbo’s death was momentarily forgotten. When Gurbesu returned with food, she put it before Alberoni, and he continued his story.
‘The castle was formerly owned by a man called the Golden King, who, it is said, had damsels not horses to pull him around in a chariot.’
Gurbesu laughed at such a fantasy, but I quieted her with a finger to my lips, and the friar spoke on.
‘This king was subject to Ung Khan, but there was a war between them because of the Golden King’s arrogance. Seven men of Ung Khan’s court said they could overpower the Golden King in return for great rewards. Prester John said he would be glad if they could accomplish this. So the seven men went to the Golden King and presented themselves as men from a faraway country who had come to serve him. He willingly took them in and they served him well for two whole years.’ The friar looked at me and smiled. ‘When I heard this, I was put in mind of you, Niccolò, and your clandestine dealings that rely so much on trust.’
I knew he meant how I cheated people using underhand trickery. But I was so glad to see him again, I allowed him his small reprimand. Gurbesu caught my look, and mouthed a phrase silently. I understood it straight away. A long firm. My name for a particularly long-winded scam. The seven men of Ung Khan’s court were building up trust, before making use of it for their profit. Alberoni finished his tale.
‘One day, when the Golden King and his seven courtiers were out for his sport, they seized him and took him to Ung Khan. Prester John enslaved the king for a time, but then released him and reinstated him to his former glory. Having convinced the Golden King he could always be taken, he returned him to his kingdom a wiser man.’
‘And did this get you closer to Prester John?’
It was Lin’s question.
‘I think I know a little more about him, Master Lin. And, reassured of his existence, I feel I am hot on his heels. I will not now give up my search, as I was going to do in Khan-balik. Prester John’s land is said to be west of the Golden King’s.’
Gurbesu busied herself pouring some wine for everyone, and even the friar indulged. As we relaxed and chatted, I was briefly aware of Jianxu appearing in the doorway with a strained smile on her face. But before I could say anything, she slipped away, having assumed, I supposed, that she did not fit in to our reunion. And as the drink went down, I forgot about her, I regret to admit. It was much later in the night, when everyone else had retired, leaving Alberoni and me alone, that I fell to thinking about Venice. I must have been silent for some time because suddenly the friar stirred from where he had been happily slumped and tapped my arm.