The Willow Pattern

The judge cast a pitying glance at her ravaged face. Just as he turned to the door, he saw the maid making frantic signs at him behind the old lady's back. Then she pointed at Tao Gan. Evidently she wanted his lieutenant to stay behind. Judge Dee nodded his assent and left.

'Take me to the gallery!' he told the doorman.

Following the youngster through cavernous halls and long, silent corridors with raftered ceilings blackened by age, he felt increasingly ill at ease. The meeting with this pitiful old lady, sick of body and mind, leading a shadow existence amidst the relics of a phantom-past had shocked him deeply. Even more disturbing, however, was the un­canny, threatening atmosphere of this old, deserted mansion. One fleeting moment he had a vision of himself as an unreal visitor to a very real world that existed one hundred years ago, a sinister age of brutal violence and revolting bloodshed. Was the past usurping the present? Were the dead of the past rising to join the errant souls of the victims of the plague, was this ghostly horde going to take over the silent, empty Imperial capital? And was this then the reason for the strange feeling of fear and foreboding that had got hold of him earlier in the night, when from his high terrace he was looking out over the dead city?

With an effort he pulled himself together. He wiped the cold sweat from his face and followed the youngster who was ascending a narrow flight of stairs. He pushed a double door open and stepped aside to let the judge pass into a dim gallery.

'You may go back to Lady Yee's quarters,' he told the boy. He closed the door and stared at the man clad in a grey houserobe who was lying sprawled in the armchair beside the table, right in the centre. The light of the spluttering candle on the table threw weird flashes on the horribly mutilated face. Standing still, his back against the door, the judge surveyed the unusual interior. The gallery, paved with red flagstones, stretched out to the right and left of the door, one long, narrow rectangle, about sixty feet long. The outer wall, facing the judge, was pierced at regular intervals by narrow vertical slits, like those used by archers to shoot their arrows through at the enemy out­side. All along the front of this wall was a row of pillars, lacquered red. In the middle, behind the table where the dead man was lying, four bay windows formed a kind of portico. The windows, broad and low, were covered by bam­boo roll curtains. The wall on Judge Dee's side had a wain­scoting of dark wood. Further along, opposite the table, was a narrow platform, raised about one foot above the floor. The judge thought it might have been used for an orchestra, although that seemed singularly out of place in an archers' gallery. Beside the platform stood a low couch, covered by a thick reed mat, but without stiles or canopy, and evidently used for sitting rather than for sleeping. Ex­cept for half a dozen highbacked chairs placed among the pillars, there was no furniture. He reflected that in the olden days this gallery must have been a strong strategic point. From here one could cover the traffic on the canal and the bridge. The bay windows and the portico had evidently been added later, in order to transform the gallery into a kind of lounge.

Judge Dee went up to the table. A close look at the dead man made him wince involuntarily. He had seen death in many forms, but the sight made him feel sick. The left half of the face had been crushed by a terrible blow that had dislocated the left eye. It was now hanging down on the cheek by a few threads of red tissue. The other eye was petrified in an expression of stark terror. The mouth was opened wide, as if he was about to utter a scream. The left shoulder of the houserobe was a mass of clotted blood. The judge shooed a few bluebottles away. Their indignant buzzing was the only sound disturbing the profound silence.

The dead man's arms hung down limply in the long sleeves, his legs were spread wide apart. He must have been standing by the table when he was struck down, the force of the blow smacking him backwards into the solid ebony chair. The judge passed his hands over the arms and legs. The body was not yet stiff. Having rolled the sleeves up he noticed that the arms showed no bruises or other signs of violence. He righted himself. The coroner would do the rest.

On the floor, beside the dead man's black cap, lay a whip with a short butt and long, thin thongs. Among the thongs he saw some wilting flowers, and a number of shards; they must belong to the vase or bowl the flowers had been put in, made of white porcelain with a design in blue. On the table, beside the candle, stood a large ginger jar of green earthenware, and a platter, filled with ginger sweetmeats. The, thick syrup was black with greedy flies. Beside the padded tea-basket stood two porcelain cups; in one some tea was left, the other was perfectly clean. Another arm­chair was drawn up close to the opposite side of the table, it had evidently not been used.

With a sigh the judge righted himself. Slowly caressing his long beard, he looked down at the still figure. It was a great pity that he had never met him. For now he would have to rely on second-hand information in order to form a general idea of the dead man's personality. And even that second-hand information would be hard to come by. Unlike Mei, Yee had always kept to the 'old world', he had had no close friends except Mei and Hoo. Hoo the judge had never met either. He racked his brain, but he could not remember Mei ever having passed any remarks on either Yee or Hoo.

'Wish I could get at least an idea of his expression,' he muttered disconsolately. With half of the face gone, how­ever, that was a difficult task. A long, rather sallow face, with a thin mouth, a grey moustache and a frayed goatee. That was all. He had been of slightly more than average height, and rather thin.