But Jade Island was not our destination today. So we ploughed through the filth of a city in the making towards one of a scattering of the old summer houses that had been left standing. They were positioned close to the new bridge that now linked the southern end of Jade Island with the surrounding land. The summer houses were convenient, if temporary, locations for those who ran the vast and overworked bureaucracy that was needed for Kubilai’s ever burgeoning empire. Inside one of them my boss, Lin Chu-Tsai, was no doubt fretting over my late arrival. I did not want him to know what had caused our delay, and tried to hold Gurbesu back. But before I could get my story straight with her, she was stomping angrily up the wooden steps and into Lin’s summer house; a move that was no mean feat in muddy white socks and no shoes. I strode after her, my boots leaving large black footprints on the steps and tiled floors.
Inside, everything reflected a picture of calm, except for Lin Chu-Tsai’s face. This was most unusual, as my friend was normally the most even-tempered of men, with a serene mood that he ensured was mirrored in his surroundings. Despite the dilapidated nature of the exterior of the summer house, Lin had quickly created a subtle interior with items he had brought from his residence in Xanadu. Lattice-work wooden screens, deep mahogany in colour, hid the worst of the cracks in the walls, and a fine vase stood where the light from the window of his office lit up its translucent blue porcelain. A low table in the centre of the large room that was Lin’s office and living space was surrounded by deep silken cushions. Each cushion was richly embroidered with a different Chinee pattern ranging from rampant dragons to strangely shaped unicorns. The table top was usually stacked with neat piles of papers on which Lin was working in his capacity as Clerk to the Minister of Justice. For in reality, Lin was the embodiment of justice in Kubilai’s empire, and he did all the work attributed to his master, a Turk by the name of Alawi Kayyal. The Minister held his post because of the quaint and repressive system of hierarchies in the Mongol Empire.
At the top of the heap sat the small number of people who could call themselves Mongols. I made the mistake of referring to them as Tartars when I first arrived in Xanadu, because this was the name the western world used. Perhaps as a reminder that they were once thought of as the Hounds of Hell — or Tartarus. I was soon told that the actual Tartar tribe was one that Kubilai’s grandfather, Chinghis, had slaughtered for the treacherous murder of his own father. So I quickly learned that it was not Tartars, but Mongols who rule the world in these parts. They were not many in number, but they were the princes and the overlords of everyone else in the empire. Below them, and trusted to run things for their masters, were the Se-mu Jen — non-Chinee foreigners many of whom were Turks and other Easterners. Coming third in the heap were the Han Jen like Lin, who were Chinees from the conquered North of that vast land of Cathay. Finally, beyond all contempt at the bottom were the Nan Jen — Chinees from the as-yet unconquered South. Lin’s fate was to be the clerk to a drunken Turk who found it difficult even to put his mark on the bottom of the documents Lin wrote for him without smudging it. So the truth was Lin Chu-Tsai was de facto the embodiment of justice in the Mongol Empire. And now I was his right-hand man. It’s a strange world, isn’t it?
When we entered the summer house, Lin was not seated at his table with its usual stacks of papers, but was standing looking out the window at Jade Island. When we entered, he turned round abruptly. Chu-Tsai was a man of average build with a chubby face that nevertheless was quite pallid due to the necessity of his indoor existence. His jet black hair was pulled back tightly from his face, and hung in a plaited queue down his back. This was still shorter than usual, due to a fire some time earlier that had robbed him of most of his hair. His small hands and slender fingers, normally so graceful, were now clasped tightly round a paper scroll. His tendency to overweight was probably due to the fact that as a child his parents had had him castrated. The hope had been that, as a eunuch, he would stand a greater chance of progressing at the emperor’s court to a position of power. The irony was that the Mongol overlords who grabbed the throne of China in his youth cared little for such Chinee niceties. In the end Lin had made his way by use of his intellect and his not inconsiderable sharp wits, and not because he had no balls. In fact, I would say he had balls a-plenty. Just not between his legs any more. He was a man of decisiveness and a bold one too. Today, he looked nervous and unsure of himself.
‘Master Nick. At last.’
I began to explain what had taken us so long. That is, I lied about what had taken so long, not wishing him to know I had preferred to romp with Gurbesu rather than answer his call immediately. But, as I formed my excuses, he held his slender hand up.
‘That is of no importance now. This is.’
He waved aloft the paper that he held in his other hand. Behind me, Gurbesu sighed and slumped down on to one of the cushions that were arranged around the low table. I glanced down, and watched as she peeled the dirty socks off her feet. Lin looked on disapprovingly at the sight of her bare feet, then took my arm and guided me to the other side of the room. We looked out over the lake towards Jade Island, as he explained the bind he was in. That we were both in. On the surface, it appeared to be a straightforward investigation of a murder case. But for Lin it had darker undertones.
‘You see, Master Nick, Ko has no formal reason to be acting for the Great Khan in a simple case of murder. He suggests it is a delicate case concerning a local official who may be corrupt, and that is why he has intervened. He further goes on to say that it requires my attention in particular. That the Great Khan specifically asked for me to go to P’ing-Yang-Fu — ’ he gave the town its formal name — ‘and that you should come with me.’
I shrugged my shoulders, not seeing what the problem was. I was more concerned about the mountain about to land on me that was Mongotai, actually. If we had a reason to leave Khan-balik, I was more than happy to comply.
‘Then let’s go.’
Lin looked at me as though I were a little child who did not understand the world. He could be very obtuse and irritating at times, but I had learned to listen to him. He had been brought up in the convoluted world that made up Cathay, and could see currents under the muddy waters that were invisible to me.
‘What’s the problem?’
A look of distress crossed Lin’s face. He didn’t like openly pointing out my failings, as it offended his sense of politeness. And to have to explain would show up my ignorance. So he carefully phrased his reply.
‘The request — which in essence is a command that has its origin with Kubilai — has come through the agency of Ko Su-Tsung. So it is really Ko who has caused the request to land on my doorstep. The apparent purpose is to investigate the ruling of a death sentence made by a prefect on a Chinee woman, who is now languishing in gaol under threat of execution. The prefect acts for his Mongol overlord in P’ing-Yang-Fu, which by the way is a journey of at least two weeks from here, so we have little time. The problem is that we will be in effect arbitrating between a lowly Han Jen woman and a Mongol governor of high status.’
‘If she’s guilty, what’s the problem? We can confirm the verdict and get on our way.’
I could see Lin was distressed by my cavalier approach. He pressed on with his insight into Chinee politics, and the serpentine coils of the civil service that ran Kubilai’s affairs.