And he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.
The highly respected xiangyigong examined for some time quite carefully the images shown to him (they were branded by fire on the forearms of the monk) and then asked innocently:
– Please tell me, the venerable Banh, can anybody have such signs besides the monks who had passed their tests in the Shaolin monastery?
– I haven't heard about anybody who'd dare to fake them, – the voice of the monk remained calm but his narrow eyes became still narrower.
– But can they be hidden in some way? – the judge went on. – If, for example, some warrior monk does not want to be recognized?
– It is possible, I think, – the monk shrugged his shoulders, – but what for? The scars would be left... Moreover, those who passed the Labyrinth of Mannequins are rather few and well known not only in the cloister. I suppose, you've heard that one who had become a Shaolin monk can get the right to leave the cloister freely only in three ways. The first is to pass the test; but it is not for everybody and requires at least fifteen years of daily exhaustive training; the second is to be sent to the external world on some errand but such occasions are rather rare...
– And what is the third?
The monk simply lifted his hands as if hinting that the third way out is opened for everybody and in any situation.
– I understand you, the highly respected xiangyigong, – continued the venerable Banh after a pause. – You were given a complicated and unpleasant case to investigate. Your duty is to solve this problem... but I think it would not be a great disaster if you'd soon give up your research. Naturally, it would be possible not before you'd have honestly found out all that is possible. And it somehow seems to me, as worthless as I am, that you've already done this. The disturber was acting alone, without any assistance, being surely mad. Besides, she's now dead, and who will be able to say in what state of mind the unlucky woman had been at that moment?
– Of course, you're right, the venerable father, – the judge bowed his head politely. – I've come to almost the same conclusions. I feel inexpressible joy in my soul hearing that my opinion, as ignorant as I am, coincides with the opinion of such a worthy servant of Buddha as you.
They talked a bit more about other things not concerning the case, although Judge Bao understood perfectly welclass="underline" the monk has already said all he wanted to say allowing him to understand that the venerable Banh and those who stand behind him are not too interested in the detailed investigation of the case.
The judge guessed the reason.
The reason was that the judge has seen with his own eyes the signs of tiger and dragon branded at the arms of the monk. When the venerable Banh bowed and went away, he stood still for some time musing on the coincidence. The only difference was that the venerable Banh had them branded by fire and the other two had the form of the putrefaction spots. For just the same signs appeared after death at the forearms of Eighth Aunty, who had never entered the famous monastery under the Song mountain. And the same signs were now clearly visible at the two arms nailed to the pillory, the arms of a respectable merchant Fanh Yushi.
Who had also never been a monk.
Either at the Shaolin monastery or at any other.
Chapter 2
So it was said by the wise men in old times:
Meeting a chan [11] master on your road
Don't you waste your words in vain,
Still don't give him pass you by:
Let your fist speak instead,
Strike his jaw well and good.
The clever will see,
And the fools? Let them be as they are.
– You, bastard! – roared Golden Eel trying frantically to whip stinking drops off his gown. – You, shaven-headed beast! Go down here, I'll tear your ugly head from your shoulders!
The monk standing at the wall top did not pay any attention to the shouting below. A minute earlier he had shamelessly pulled up his saffron cassock and pissed down aiming exactly at the Golden Eel's head who dared to come too near to the closed gates of the monastery at the Song mountain. Well informed people told that behind the gates there was a track piercing the rocks and leading from the foothills to the monastery situated much higher, almost at the top; but Golden Eel could not think now about any rocks or tracks. Not so long ago he was in quite another mood after having received an official note summoning him to arrive to the outer gates of Shaolin not later than the Cold Meal Holiday. Golden Eel had expected rather to get an invitation, but such formal note was also not so bad for him, a son of a village elder from Hebei province, a renowned master of quanfa [12] in his native country: he had made his best to obtain recommendations from three much esteemed local persons...
After all these efforts he came here obeying the orders.
And now he has spent almost a week sticking around in front of the locked gates in the company of seven other lads aspiring, like himself, to the right to enter the most famous monastery of the whole Empire and to become monks there. The ninth to sit at the gates was an aged heshan [13] from the mountain temple in Ande district, but he was allowed to enter almost at once. After having waited only about three hours he handed the guards a written permission of his patriarch; the gatekeepers examined the letter reading it several times, exchanged glances between themselves and then waved hands inviting the visitor to follow them.
– So it goes in the world! – a youngling who bore still his childish name Baby Snake Cai sighed enviously. – We, the laymen, must get heaps of recommendations, wait here gods know how long, and the reverend monks go to and fro, as they like: take a patriarch's permission and walk everywhere! It is just the same as in our governor's office: one must enter bowing humbly while the others march in on horse and with banners flying!
If it were earlier, Golden Eel would not have answered anything considering Baby Snake to be a greenhorn. But after the first day of waiting he began to lose his calm mood; after three days his self-possession has been almost ruined, and now his patience was coming to an end, as well as the week that seemed endless to him. Golden Eel was ready to tear to pieces anybody who'd have bad luck to approach him...
The monk who dared to piss at his head finally made him mad of rage.
– Well, where are you?! A bit afraid, eh?
The gates opened slowly, with a squeak. Two gatekeepers appeared in the clearance: two monks, alike as twins, both strapping, broad-shouldered, with their heads bluish because of daily shaving.
– Ha! – Golden Eel shouted with as much disdain as he could. – The sanctimonious swine is hiding behind the others' back! Oh indeed, these are the heroic monks! Well, come to me, I'll show you a pair of good tricks!
At that moment he has completely forgotten that he himself arrived here not at all for piety or for leaving the sorrowful world of vanity and mundane illusions; he was attracted merely by the glory of Shaolin as the birthplace of warrior arts, the pupils of which were famous throughout the world, from the Boshan peak in the East to the Western paradise of the lady Xiwangmu!
11
“Chan master” is a follower of the Chan school (Dzen in Japan), one of the trends of Buddhism.