Bridge Of Birds (22 page)

Li Kao's eyes were sparkling. “Ox, in ancient times a roof, three beams, and the number
three formed the ideograph for Orion. It was also used to signify ginseng, particularly
when the symbol for heart was at the point of the beams, and that would mean the Heart of
the Great Root of Power,” he whispered.

I was beginning to catch some of his excitement myself, and we eagerly followed the little
monk to the opening of another tunnel. He offered us torches from the wall brackets.

“You will find the painting at the end, and in the meantime you will learn why we are
certain that the Peddler is divine,” he said. “Fortunately you have arrived during the
rainy season, and the water has begun to rise in the Peddler's cavern. Soon it will strike
the bell stones, and only Heaven could produce such music. The stones are deep beneath the
tunnel, but there are side passages that will enable you to hear the music clearly.”

Miser Shen's previous visit had been during the wrong season for bell music, and he was
rather skeptical about it. As we moved down the low dark tunnel the slap of our sandals
was joined by the sound of water lapping against rocks, far below us and to the left side.
Then the water rose high enough and we knew that the monk had not lied. This was the music
of Heaven.

A stone bell chimed. Just as the echo was fading away it was answered by a second bell
that was soft and sweet and slightly blurred, as though the sound were sifted through
honey. Another bell answered, higher and clearer and perfectly in harmony, and then bell
after bell chimed in: big bells, small bells, loud bells, soft bells, clear bells, cloudy
bells, and we walked along in enchantment while our torches cast immense shadows upon the
stone walls. I cannot describe the beauty of the stone-bell song. Then the water reached
the soft rocks and began to rush through tiny holes, and the bells were joined by the
sound of a thousand silver lutes being stroked by a million murmuring bees. The
combination of sounds was lifting our souls right out of our bodies, and ahead of us was a
side passageway that was large enough to enter. The music poured from it, and we turned as
one and trotted down the passageway toward the ravishing song. Tears were streaming down
Miser Shen's cheeks. He began to run, with his arms spread wide to catch and embrace the
music, and we were right at his heels while our shadows leaped and jumped all around us. A
rock moved beneath Miser Shen's foot, and I heard a harsh metallic whang.

Miser Shen lifted into the air and flew backward into my arms, and I stared stupidly at
the iron shaft of a crossbow bolt that was protruding from his chest.

We dived to the floor, but no more bolts flew. I laid an ear against Miser Shen's chest.
His heart was still beating, but faintly. “The painting is a trap,” Master Li whispered in
my ear. “The acoustics of the tunnel permit the monks to hear what's being said, and when
they heard that we recognized the maidens and linked them to the Duke of Ch'in, the monks
in black slipped ahead to cock a crossbow and set the trigger.”

He cautiously lifted his torch and waved it around, and finally we spotted it. A single
crossbow, fixed in a wall bracket and aimed at the center of the passageway.

“Why only one?” Master Li muttered. He carefully felt beneath the stone that Miser Shen's
foot had pressed. There was a metal rod which ran back beneath the surface of the path.
“Ox, do you see that large flat white stone?” Master Li whispered. “It has raised
slightly, and I rather believe that we are supposed to step on it as we run for our lives.”

I picked up Miser Shen and we carefully inched around that stone as we made our way back
to the main tunnel. Li Kao picked up rocks and hurled them, and on the third try he hit
the raised white stone. With a horrible crash a good fifty feet of the roof collapsed, and
a great cloud of dust and whining splinters of rock shot from the mouth of the passageway.
Anyone in there would have been crushed like an ant beneath an elephant's foot.

“We can't trust the acoustics,” Li Kao whispered in my ear. “If we go back, they'll
probably be ready for us. We have to follow the tunnel and trust to luck.”

He led the way with a torch in one hand and his knife in the other. The tunnel was sloping
up, and the beautiful bell song was growing fainter. The only other sounds were the hiss
of the torch and the slap of our sandals, and then Miser Shen groaned. His eyes opened,
but they were feverish and puzzled and he did not seem to recognize us. We stopped and I
set him down, with his back propped against the tunnel wall, and his lips moved.

“You are the priest?” he said hoarsely to Li Kao. “My little girl has been murdered by the
Duke of Ch'in, and they tell me that I will feel better if I burn a prayer and send it to
her, but I do not know how to write.”

For Miser Shen it was forty years ago, when the death of his daughter had begun to drive
him insane.

“I am the priest,” Master Li said quietly. “I will write down your prayer for you.”

Miser Shen's lips moved silently, and I sensed that he was rehearsing. Finally he was
ready, and he made a terrible effort to concentrate on what he wanted to say to his
daughter. This is the prayer of Miser Shen.

"Alas, great is my sorrow. Your name is Ah Chen, and when you were born I was not truly
pleased. I am a farmer, and a farmer needs strong sons to help with his work, but before a
year had passed you had stolen my heart. You grew more teeth, and you grew daily in
wisdom, and you said 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' and your pronunciation was perfect. When you were
three you would knock at the door and then you would run back and ask, 'Who is it?' When
you were four your uncle came to visit and you played the host. Lifting your cup, you
said, 'Ching!' and we roared with laughter and you blushed and covered your face with your
hands, but I know that you thought yourself very clever. Now they tell me that I must try
to forget you, but it is hard to forget you.

"You carried a toy basket. You sat at a low stool to eat porridge. You repeated the Great
Learning and bowed to Buddha. You played at guessing games, and romped around the house.
You were very brave, and when you fell and cut your knee you did not cry because you did
not think it was right. When you picked up fruit or rice, you always looked at people's
faces to see if it was all right before putting it in your mouth, and you were careful not
to tear your clothes.

"Ah Chen, do you remember how worried we were when the flood broke our dikes and the
sickness killed our pigs? Then the Duke of Ch'in raised our taxes and I was sent to plead
with him, and I made him believe that we could not pay our taxes. Peasants who cannot pay
taxes are useless to dukes, so he sent his soldiers to destroy our village, and thus it
was the foolishness of your father that led to your death. Now you have gone to Hell to be
judged, and I know that you must be very frightened, but you must try not to cry or make
loud noises because it is not like being at home with your own people.

"Ah Chen, do you remember Auntie Yang, the midwife? She was also killed, and she was very
fond of you. She had no little girls of her own, so it is all right for you to try to find
her, and to offer her your hand and ask her to take care of you. When you come before the
Yama Kings, you should clasp your hands together and plead to them: 'I am young and I am
innocent. I was born in a poor family, and I was content with scanty meals. I was never
willfully careless of my shoes and my clothing, and I never wasted a grain of rice. If
evil spirits bully me, may thou protect me.' You should put it just that way, and I am
sure that the Yama Kings will protect you.

“Ah Chen, I have soup for you and I will burn paper money for you to use, and the priest
is writing down this prayer that I will send to you. If you hear my prayer, will you come
to see me in my dreams? If fate so wills that you must yet lead an earthly life, I pray
that you will come again to your mother's womb. Meanwhile I will cry, 'Ah Chen, your
father is here!' I can but weep for you, and call your name.” [Lin Yutang has translated
Miser Shen's prayer to Ah Chen slightly differently. See The Importance of Understanding
(World Publishing Co., New York, 1960).]

Miser Shen fell silent. I thought that he had died, but then he opened his eyes again.

“Did I say it right?” he whispered. “I practiced for a long time, and I wanted to say it
right, but I am confused in my mind and something seems to be wrong.”

“You said it perfectly,” Master Li said quietly.

Miser Shen appeared to be greatly relieved. His eyes closed and his breathing grew
fainter. Then he coughed, and blood spurted from his lips and the soul of Miser Shen
departed from the red dust of earth.

We knelt beside Miser Shen and clasped our hands. In my mind the image of Ah Chen was
mingled with the images of the children of Ku-fu and I could not speak through my tears,
but the voice of Li Kao was firm and strong.

“Miser Shen, great is your joy,” he said. “Now you are released from the prison of your
body, and your soul is reunited with little Ah Chen. Surely the Yama Kings will allow you
to be reborn as a tree, and for miles around the poor peasants will know you as Old
Generosity.”

I finally found my tongue.

“Miser Shen, if fate so wills that I am reunited with Lotus Cloud, I will tell her your
story, and she will weep for you and she will not forget you, and so long as I live you
will live in the heart of Number Ten Ox.”

We said the prayers together and made the symbolic sacrifice, but we could not bury the
body in solid rock, so we begged his spirit to forgive us for not observing the customary
decencies. Then we stood up and bowed, and Li Kao picked up the torch.

“Master Li, if you ride on my back we can move quickly if we have to make a run for it,” I
suggested.

He climbed up and I started down the tunnel. It continued to slope upward, and in an hour
the song of the bells faded away. (If any of my readers happen to be in the vicinity, I
urge them to visit the Cavern of Bells, because the music truly comes from Heaven and was
simply put to evil use by evil men who are no longer with us.) The beautiful song had just
dwindled into silence when I turned a corner in the tunnel, and the light from the torch
in Li Kao's hand reached out to touch a familiar figure. The little monk in the crimson
robe was standing in front of us with a smirk on his face.

“Stop, you idiot! Have you learned nothing from the death of Miser Shen?” Master Li yelled
as I leaped forward.

I tried to pull up, but it was too late. My hands were outstretched to strangle the monk
and my weight was forward, and I took one more step and landed upon a reed mat that had
been cleverly painted to resemble rock. I fell through it as though it were water, and
tumbled down head over heels and landed with a crash that knocked the breath from my body.
The torch fell with us, and when I had recovered enough to look around I saw that we had
fallen into a pit that was about eight feet wide and fifteen feet deep, with walls made
from large stone slabs fitted tightly together. I heard a grating metallic sound and
looked up, and my heart nearly stopped beating.

The little monk was pulling a heavy chain with all his might, and an iron lid was slowly
sliding across the top of the pit.

Li Kao's hand was cocked behind his right ear. “A present from Miser Shen!” he yelled, and
torchlight glinted upon the blade of his knife as it flashed through the air. The monk
dropped the chain. He clutched at his throat and clawed at the hilt that was buried there,
and his eyes rolled to the top of his head and blood spurted, and he gurgled horribly and
toppled over the edge of the pit.

I lifted my hands to catch him, but he never landed. His legs became entangled in the
chain and he jerked to a halt in midair, and I gasped as I saw that his weight was pulling
the iron lid farther and farther across the opening of the pit, and then it slammed shut
with a harsh metallic clang. In an instant I had grabbed the chain and had climbed up over
the dangling monk. I shoved at the lid with all my might, but it was wasted effort. That
sheet of iron had slid into grooves in solid rock, and I had no leverage at all.

“Master Li, I can't budge it!” I panted.

I dropped back to the floor, which was solid stone. Our torch was burning yellow, but soon
it would burn orange, and then blue, and then it wouldn't burn at all. The last thing that
we would see before we suffocated would be the blackness of the tomb.

I have a horror of small closed places.
“Saparah, tarata, mita, prajna, para -”
I mumbled hoarsely.

“Oh, stop that mumbo-jumbo and get to work,” Master Li said testily. “I have no objection
to Buddhism, but at least you can babble in a civilized language - either that or learn
something about the one that you're massacring.”

He picked up a couple of rocks and handed me one. Li Kao worked carefully around the
circumference of the pit, tapping the slabs in the walls, while I climbed the chain and
tapped the slabs higher up. On his second tour around the walls Li Kao heard a faint
hollow echo as he rapped with his rock. He peered closely and saw that the slab had not
been perfectly cut and joined, and that a tiny strip of mortar ran around the edges.

I jumped down, and he turned and bowed politely to the dangling corpse. “Many thanks for
returning my knife to me,” he said, and he jerked the knife from the monk's throat, which
produced quite a mess on the floor. Half an hour later the mortar was gone and the slab
was loose, but how were we supposed to work it out of the hole? My large clumsy fingers
couldn't possibly fit into those narrow cracks, and even Li Kao's fingers were too large.
When he tried to shift the slab with his knife, the only result was that the blade snapped
in half. We were no better off than before, and that damned dangling monk was grinning at
us. I growled and slapped the silly smile on his face, and as the corpse swung back and
forth the creaking chain produced a sound like mocking laughter.