The Tapestries (22 page)

“Now will you be quiet?” he cried.

Muffled sound continued to pulse from the other boy's throat. But Dan could see a flash of triumph on the young lord's flushed face implying that he was no longer afraid.

Dan sprang to the other side of the willow to untie the rope that was restraining his prisoner's hands. The sound of the car engine hemmed him in. He looked up. Before he could tug apart the stubborn knot, the car drove up to the mansion's main entrance. He and the young lord were standing on the ruin that had once been his family home. Four hundred feet ahead, across the empty veranda and the unkempt garden, the black granite gate was overgrown with thick, thorny underbrush. He watched the entrance glow in an eerie rectangular light, like the doorway to Hell, as it reflected the car's headlights and the fading sun. The unflinching glare made him feel small. He must find a place to hide. Without Ven and her limitless wisdom, he would not want to confront the enemy.

Finally pulling the knot free, Dan grabbed his prisoner's head in both his arms and crept along the ground, pulling the boy with him until they were behind a collapsed wall of the kitchen. To his surprise, the sedan remained in front of the gate, with its headlights trained on the main walkway.

He took cover near the earthen stove, which stood on three small piles of broken bricks about a foot high. Ven had used the wall to protect the stove from the wind when she cooked. Now it served as the only shield to hide Dan and the prisoner. Sprawled there in the mud on top of Bui, he listened. Above the purr of the vehicle's motor, he could hear another, more distinct sound: the fast galloping of horses that seemed to come from behind him. Dan turned around and saw two carriages racing down the rutted road that led to the back of his home. He recognized the coaches of the house of Toan.

Dan shrank into the earth in a paralysis of terror. He was surrounded, his escape blocked at both the front and back. Fear seemed to add new strength to his body. He rode on top of the other boy, using his body weight to press the young lord's scrawny trunk into the mud. He raised his eyes above the clay stove and spied the carriages, which were pulling up behind the taro bushes that marked the remains of the garden.

He looked at the first chariot and saw a figure outlined against the mysterious red satin screen that illuminated the vehicle's entrance. To his surprise, his wife's body came into view, hunched against the rain. He saw her stringy hair and tattered clothes. Her hands were tied behind her back, making her walk somewhat unsteady, like the shuffling gait of a drunk.

Following her was the young lord's father, Minister Chin Tang. His head was held high in spite of the downpour, and his dour visage, rising and falling behind the fence line, grew darker as they drew closer to the door. Twenty paces behind them was the second carriage. Master Long, glistening in a black trench coat, stepped out. He waddled through the puddles like a brood-hen. Four guards in uniform and the Toan family's coachman accompanied him, armed with metal clubs of various lengths and shapes, walking up the road toward the back entrance. The gravel from the street crunched under their booted feet.

Dan felt the young lord squirm beneath him. The bruise on the outer rim of his captive's eye was the color of a grape. Against the wet soil, his shaggy black hair was caked with the silt and ashes that had spilled from the stove. His jaws were opening and closing, chewing at the rag. Droplets sprayed each time he breathed, like a fish gasping for water.

The first person who walked through the gates of his mansion was Ven. She cocked her head to scan the ruin, searching for him, wet tufts of her hair wafting in the wind. He could see her eyes catch the light.

“Dan, where are you?” she called out. The garden returned her words in a disdainful pitch, like the echo of a temple bell. “Do not hide yourself and the young lord any longer. Come out and greet Minister Chin.”

A gust of wind teased the trees, and their thick leaves cackled at her suggestion. Dan remained silent in the vanishing twilight.

“Please, Dan, hear my plea. I have related our story to the minister, all of it, including the dark deeds committed by our enemies. He promised he would not harm you. Come out from your hiding place and answer any questions he might have for you, not as a prisoner to a judge, but as a man to his compassionate friend.”

He heard the minister's voice, full of authority, as he asked Ven, “Is this the exact spot where the crime was committed?”

“There was no crime, dear sir,” came the voice of Master Long. “Nine years ago, the Cam Le Village indeed harbored a great secret. However, the stories that this peasant is relating to you are nothing but a bald-faced attempt to elicit your sympathy to an atrocious villain. The owner of this mansion was once a famous pirate, who was sentenced to death by the Court at Hue. He did not deserve your pity, not even the smallest drop. My father was merely an executioner, fulfilling his devoted duty to the Purple Forbidden City. He should not be blamed for his obedience to his country.”

“Spare me your self-righteous speech,” Ven spat. “Really, was it part of your devoted duty to burn down the condemned man's house, steal his fortune, and send troops to hunt for his surviving offspring? Did the death sentence include his entire family? Or did you take pleasure in beholding such punishment carried out at your command?”

“Where is my son?” He heard the minister's voice, now plaintive. “Bui, can you hear me?”

Upon hearing his name, the young master shook under Dan's weight. He watched the prisoner's face widen into a smile, as if he knew his captivity was all but ended. Deliberately, Bui winked his bruised eye at Dan.

Dan's eyes darted in every direction. The flashing sky, twisted tree trunks, green shrubbery, and the people in front of him, all melted into a blur as though they were figures in a watercolor and the rain was washing them away. In a daze, he dismounted the prisoner. His shoulder bumped against the brick wall, shooting a current of pain through him. The fear was gone, leaving him as hollow as the sky.

He sprang to his feet, pulling Bui up with him. His fingers closed around the young lord's throat. How easy it would be to end this life with just a simple twist of his hands. He retreated toward his once-stately house until his bare feet touched the rough concrete of the veranda. From there, he could observe both entrances. Bui shuffled along with him.

From behind the wall of leaves, the automobile's engine rose to a whine, followed by a loud crash. In the ruby light before him, he saw an explosion of squiggling vines, like the bursting of a water serpent's nest. The sealed gate split open, and the garden was bathed in brilliant brightness. He watched the ancient door lift off its hinges and dangle to the side as the sedan bounded forward. It crossed the white pathway and roared in his direction.

Dan wrapped his arm around the young lord's neck, elbow pointing outward. The boy fell back against Dan's bare chest, blinking away the rain in his eyes. From nearby, Ven ran toward him, her body swaying from side to side to maintain her balance. Behind her the men were closing in. Although their faces were in shadow, Dan could make out the metal rods gleaming in their hands.

“Stop!” he screamed, pushing his free arm forward, palm facing at the car. His head turned from side to side, observing the enemies in both directions. “Do not make another move, or I will break his neck.” Bui moved feebly in his arm, fixing his eyes on his father.

“Who are you?” Minister Chin Tang asked.

Blinded by the headlamps, Dan closed his eyes. His wife replied for him. “That young man is my husband, son of Captain Tat Nguyen.”

“Impossible,” exclaimed Master Long.

“Let my son go,” the minister said.

“No, I will not,” Dan said. “Stay where you are. I do not trust your intentions, nor yours either,” he said, pointing his finger at Ven. “Why are you bringing these intruders here to my parents' resting place? Did that devil Toan promise to spare your life in exchange for mine? Tell me now, announce my death sentence before they do.”

Ven backed away. “You are mistaken, young Master. I am not betraying you. One thing I have resolved, and that is to stop at nothing to restore your liberty. The fact is that I have persuaded the minister to lend his empathy to our misfortune, and he is willing to search for an opportunity to free us from all charges. Please release the young lord at once, before you upset the court official further and turn him against us.”

Dan glared at her, wide-eyed. “How could you do this without consulting me, Ven? It is a dangerous scheme. I am convinced that my plan to escape is far better than yours. At least that way, I will not be forced to hurt young Master Bui.”

“You will never escape this place,” the minister replied. “Not if you hurt my son. Do not blame your wife for bringing us here. I have shut down the festival, and the guards are searching the village. Sooner or later, with or without her help, they would be on their way to this mansion. Now, for the last time, let go of my son. Afterward, I will listen to your complaint because, truthfully, you have aroused my curiosity.”

Above the churning of the trees and the quiet rumble of the car engine, Dan heard the galloping of yet another team of horses. The squeak and clatter of fast-turning wooden wheels accompanied their frantic gait. Night was falling in earnest now, and the sky was changing to the color of dust. He turned his eyes to the distant road, but darkness was quickly transforming it into a deep tunnel of shade within the sea of silhouetted corn tassels. A ball of fire was shaking and floating toward his house, as if searching for him.

The others followed his gaze and were quickly as transfixed as he was. Once the light came close enough, it resolved into a big torch that was propped next to the driver's seat above two sweat-lathered stallions.

Master Long stomped on the ground and cursed. Turning to his coachman, a short, bony, middle-aged man who had served his family for more than two decades, the mayor ordered, “Go and find out who just arrived. If you see my daughter, do not let her in—especially if she expresses her wishes to see Mouse.”

The coachman bowed and withdrew.

On the white-brick pathway, the bumping and crackling sound coming from the sedan pulled Dan back to his surroundings. He tightened his hold on the prisoner. The car's front door swung open, and he saw the captain of the guards step from the driver's seat. Without a word, he unlocked the back door and looked inside.

A wrinkled and misshapen hand thrust from the murky compartment like the jagged hood of an excited cobra. It clasped the captain's hand and would not let go. Dan watched the old magistrate crawl out and shuffle forward with halting steps. One of his hands was concealed under the long skirt of his tunic. His milky eyes seemed to search the sky before they lit on Dan. Straightening, he pushed the captain away to proceed unassisted up the path. Tonight, Dan noticed, the old man was walking without his cane.

Before the veranda, the garden leveled out, creating a raised platform of grass. The old man stopped there with his back hunched and his feet apart, like a toddler learning to stand for the first time. The captain was behind him, holding a folded chair in one hand. With the other he held a broad bamboo umbrella above his employer's head. He shoved the chair into the soft earth and waited. The umbrella, woven from tufted rush, deflected the raindrops with a light tinkling sound. Toan lowered himself onto the seat. His eyes never left Dan's face.

“Where is your mother?” he asked Dan, leaning forward. His right hand was still clutching at his abdomen inside his long tunic.

Dan said nothing.

“You are here,” Toan said. “That unsightly bride of yours is here. Where is your mother?”

Minister Chin Tang took a step forward, facing the magistrate. “Why must you insist on learning his mother's whereabouts, Sir Toan?” he asked.

Magistrate Toan ignored him.

“The reason is quite simple,” Dan interrupted. He looked calmly at the minister, but his voice quivered with emotion. “He has been looking for a map of buried treasure. You may not believe me, but this man is a thief and a murderer.”

The night crackled with a thousand hissing noises like the moans of addicts whose opium was wearing off. Some of these sounds came from the magistrate's throat. He threw another warning look at Dan.

“Oh!” the minister exclaimed. “This story is getting more interesting. If there really has been a crime, I will investigate it. Tell me more about the treasure.”

The old man laughed. “There is no treasure. Do not push me too far, contemptible slave. You will regret it.”

Dan took a deep breath and spoke quickly. “One half of the map that led to the pirate's treasure was tattooed on my father's back.” As the memory of his parents' massacre seared his mind, he was unable to stop the words that flooded from his mouth. “It was this man who flayed it off my father's body after he killed him. By gathering the rest of my family together, the magistrate wishes to find the other half of the map.” Turning to Toan, he cried, “What are you going to do? Kill me? It is too late for you to intimidate me. I no longer fear you.”

In a rage, the old man strove to stand up, but his strength failed him. He folded himself into the seat. For several seconds he crouched in his chair with his hands inside his tunic.

“How do you know so well what happened that day?” the magistrate finally asked.

Dan pointed toward the dark foliage that lined the edge of the yard. His prisoner seized the opportunity to wrench himself away and hurl himself toward his father. Dan paid him no attention. “I was on that mango branch,” he said. “I saw what you did to my parents and their corpses.”

A thin smile creased Magistrate Toan's gaunt face. He slapped his thigh, making a clapping sound, and then shook his head in disbelief. “What a miserable twist of fate,” he said. “However, I would venture a guess that you are in possession of the map's second half.” He paused, pointing at Dan's bare torso. “I see that you don't have it tattooed on your body, contrary to the story I was foolishly led to believe all these years. But tell me, where do you hide it, or should I consult that beggar wife of yours?”