The Lady of the Tapestry frowned. “How many times,” she asked, “must I remind you that you have but one other sister, your sister Mei? It is true that there was another, but, as you say, she went to Chang-an, and she is no longer your sister, really. Besides, I said ‘elder’, not ‘eldest’, so you should not have made the mistake. Where can she be?”
Mooi-tsai replied: “The Emperor must be a great strong man to want such a number of girls. I wish you had let me see him, instead of keeping me in here. I think I hear my sister Mei outside the door. She seems to have someone with her.”
Peng Mei, a little taller than her younger sister, came in and said: “There is a girl here who came with the Emperor’s men. She had nowhere to feed, so I brought her in. She does not speak.”
Mooi-tsai went on eating, but she turned her head to see who it was.
The Lady of the Tapestry looked at the girl as she stood within the doorway. Then the Lady of the Tapestry rose to her feet. Her voice was calm.
“Come with me to my room,” she said. “Mooi-tsai, when you have finished your bowl, bring mine and another for our visitor. Do not forget the chopsticks, nor the sauce. Mei, start your meal.” She led the way to the adjoining room. When they had gone in she put her arm round Winter Cherry’s shoulders and said: “Do not tell me, if you do not want to. Now, now, crying will do you no good. Still, my jacket is an old one. Put your head here. You must finish before Mooi-tsai reaches the bottom of her bowl. There, there!”
She patted Winter Cherry’s shoulder again, and Winter Cherry’s sobs became less noisy.
After a little, they stopped.
Father Peng, General Tung, the Captain of the Guard, Peng Yeh and Ah Lai sat eating with the disquiet of men who know that knowledge is not shared between them.
Father Peng held out his rice-bowl and observed: “Mencius said that the good man is not mean to his parents. My rice-bowl is empty.”
Peng Yeh apologised and filled it. “A man’s duty,” he said, “is first to his family, then to his Emperor. If I have extended too much care to the second, I beg the first, in your person, my father, to forgive me.”
General Tung and the Captain conversed in low tones. Ah Lai could catch only snatches of their talk, so he edged imperceptibly nearer to listen.
“What was I to do with the impertinent fellow?” the Captain was asking. “If the Kingdom is, indeed, governed by eunuchs and the women of the palace, what is that to him? He gets his pay.”
Tung observed: “Punishment for such indiscipline would seem essential, if the remainder are to be loyal. For if one question the ultimate authority, the others cannot, seeing him unpunished, be relied on. I know that you are short of men—that every soldier is precious. But soldiers are of no use unless they obey unquestioningly. This man should die, as an example to the others. I see no other way. Better to have ten trustworthy men than ten thousand forever wondering if you have given the wise order.”
The Captain said: “To-morrow.”
General Tung replied: “No. To-day. But come—let us ask the opinion of one who has seen many more moons than we, whose judgment will thereby be the sounder. You agree to abide by his decision?” As the Captain nodded, General Tung went on, addressing Father Peng: “Sir, I beg to submit a question for your decision. Will you favour us?”
Father Peng said: “I must know all the circumstances. To see a stone in a brook is not to know the brook: to know the brook only, is to be ignorant of the ocean. What is your problem?” He sat up straight on his stool. “When I was sub-prefect at Hwa Lu, I had often to solve problems.”
General Tung said: “I should have guessed that you had exercised government, but I confess that our present troubles had put reasonable thought from my head. So a man who is ill forgets his manners. The State is ill. Our problem is this. One of the guard said to his captain that since the Empire is governed by eunuchs and the women of the palace, he did not see why he should sacrifice his life to save these irresponsible rulers.”
Father Peng pondered. Then he said: “You have not told me all. Such an attitude on the part of a common soldier implies either madness or a long period of misgovernment on the part of his superiors. As to the charge which the man made, that does not concern him. It concerns his superiors. But it would be best to have the man here, in order to question him.”
The Captain went to the door, opened it and called. Then he came back and sat down.
Father Peng said: “I have been remembering the advice which the philosopher Mencius gave, when King Seuen came to him with a similar question. Something like this: ‘When your intimates say that a man deserves to die, shut your ears. When your high officials say it, shut your ears. But if the common people say it, see the man, judge his case, and (if he merits it) execute him. This is the origin of the saying that a man should only be killed by the people.’ You see? Ah, this is the man?”