'What about a signal fire?' the judge asked. 'If the men in the fortress saw that, they ...'
'They wouldn't come even if this whole house was afire,' Mr Min said, glaring angrily at the judge.
'That's true, sir,' the bailiff said quickly. 'A large war-junk could eventually get across the swollen river, but it would be a major undertaking, and not without risk. First they would have to tug the empty junk for a good distance up river. After the soldiers had gone on board it would then have to be rowed across in a slow curve, and beached in a suitable place on the bank down here — an operation calling for very superior navigation. The commandant of the fort would risk it, of course, if he knew that the notorious Flying Tigers are marooned here — a Heaven-sent chance for exterminating that band of outlaws once and for all. The bandits realize that, of course; that's why they keep quiet. When the ferry was still being operated, they let a group of merchants going south pass unmolested.'
'I must admit,' the judge said, nodding slowly, 'that the situation is far from cheerful, to say the least.'
'I am glad you see that now, magistrate,' Mr Min remarked sourly.
'However,' Judge Dee resumed, 'this country house is built like a small fortress. If you issued arms to the refugees, we could ...'
'Of course we too have thought of that,' Mr Min interrupted. 'Want a list of the arms at our disposal? Two rusty spears, four hunting bows with a dozen arrows, and three swords. I beg you pardon, four swords, counting yours on the wall table there.'
'Until about a hundred years ago,' the bailiff said, 'our family kept a well-stocked armoury here, and they maintained twenty or so braves on the premises, as a permanent bodyguard. But all those costly precautionary measures were of course dropped after the fortress had been built. So you see, magistrate, that ...'
He looked round. The gaunt steward was coming up to their table with his long stride.
'I told the gatekeeper to take over from me in the watchtower, sir,' he addressed Mr Min respectfully. 'The cook came to tell me that the rice gruel for the refugees is ready.'
'Forty-six extra mouths to fill,' Mr Min informed the judge gloomily. 'I counted them myself, man, woman and child.' He heaved a deep sigh and added in a resigned voice: 'All right, let's go.'
'Shouldn't we show the magistrate a room first, sir?' the bailiff asked. 'He'll be eager to change.'
Mr Min hesitated for one brief moment before he replied, curtly:
'My brother will have to decide that. He is the master here.' Turning to the judge, he went on: 'If you'll excuse us for a while, sir, I'll have to attend to the feeding of the refugees, with Yen and Liao. All the servants here fled when they heard about the arrival of the bandits, you see. We have only the gatekeeper, and the old couple I brought with me from the city. So you'll understand that we can't offer you the hospitality your rank entitles you to, and ...'
'Of course!' the judge interrupted hastily. 'Don't bother about me! I shall sleep on that bench down there against the wall, and I ...'
'My brother shall decide,' Mr Min repeated firmly. He rose and left the hall, followed by Yen and the steward.
Judge Dee poured himself another cup of tea. Upon his arrival he had said he was a magistrate, so as not to embarrass his unseen host; even the biggest landowner would have been at a loss how to entertain properly a metropolitan official of his present high rank. Now that he had learned the awkward situation here, he was all the more glad that he had not revealed his true status.
He emptied his cup, got up and walked to the door. Standing at the head of the steps, he looked out at the yard, which was now lit by a number of smoking torches. The bailiff and the steward stood by a huge iron cauldron, busily ladling the gruel into the bowls of the people filing past. Mr Min was supervising them, from time to time gruffly warning the peasants not to push one another. Half of them were women and children, some of the latter mere infants. It would never do to let these people fall into the hands of the bandits. The Flying Tigers would slay the men, elderly women and infants on the spot, and take the young boys and girls away to be sold as slaves. He had to do something. Angrily tugging at his beard, he reflected bitterly how relative worldly power was. He, the Lord Chief Justice of the Empire, and President of the Metropolitan Court, had, through the force of circumstances, suddenly been reduced to a helpless traveller!
He turned on his heels and crossed the hall to the small office on the left. After he had seated himself in the capacious armchair, he folded his arms in his wide sleeves and looked up at the faded landscape painting that decorated the wall opposite. It was flanked by two long and narrow scrolls, inscribed with classical quotations, in bold, original calligraphy. The one on the right read:
Above, the Sovereign rules the realm, in accordance with the Mandate of Heaven.
The other one bore the parallel line:
' Below, the peasants are the foundation of the State, they till the land in accordance with the seasons.
Judge Dee nodded approvingly. He remained sitting there for some time, staring straight ahead. Suddenly he sat up, took his hands from his sleeves and pulled the candle closer. He tilted the porcelain water-container, pouring a splash of water on the flat piece of slate that apparently served as an ink slab. He selected a stick of ink from the lacquer box, and rubbed off a large quantity of thick, jet-black ink, all the while going over in his mind what he should write. Then he took a few sheets of the heavy, home-made rag-paper that was lying close by the account books, chose a writing brush and wrote out in his bold calligraphy an official communication. When he had finished, he copied out the text a number of times. 'Like writing out lines at school!' he muttered with a wan smile. After he had impressed on each sheet the official seal he always carried suspended by a silk cord on his belt, he rolled the papers up and put them into his sleeve.
Leaning back in his chair, he calculated the chances of success. His entire body was stiff from the long ride and his back was aching, but his mind was alert. All of a sudden he realized that now, for the first time since he had left Pei-chow, his mental apathy had dropped away from him. He had been a fool to give himself over to morose brooding. He must take action. That is what the dear dead he had left in Pei-chow, his faithful old adviser Hoong and she of the Medicine Hill, expected from him. He must evolve other plans for saving the people here in the country house. If his main scheme should fail, he could always give himself up to the bandits, reveal his true identity and promise them a ransom several times the two hundred gold pieces they asked the landowner for. It implied that he would have to pass an uncomfortable time as hostage, with the possibility that they would cut off his ears or fingers to speed up negotiations. However, he knew how to handle those scoundrels. Anyway it was the surest way to a complete success. He got up and walked out into the cold yard again.
The refugees were busy gobbling their gruel. He walked about among them till he found the youngster to whom he had entrusted his horse. Seeing that the boy had just finished his bowl, he asked him to show him the stables.
In the exposed enclosure the blast of the north wind struck them full in the face. No one was about there. He took the youngster into a corner under the lee of the wall, and had a long conversation with him. Finally he asked him a question, and, as the youngster nodded eagerly, the judge gave him the rolled up papers. He patted the boy on his back and said: 'I put my trust in you!' Then he walked back to the courtyard.
Mr Min was standing below the stairs of the main building. 'I have been looking for you everywhere!' he told the judge gruffly. 'My brother asks you to come up now, before we take our evening rice.'