Chapter 982 — The Witness from Grey Goose

CHAPTER 982

The Witness from Grey Goose

Cao Shuncai was a waystation hand, and he was dressed better than any waystation hand Shi Feng had ever met.

He was about forty, round-faced and clean-shaven, in a brown cotton coat so new that the fold lines from the shop still showed across the back. He bowed to the commission three times, to the surety’s chair twice, and to the gallery once. When he straightened up, he looked at everyone in the hall except the accused.

“Cao Shuncai, of the Grey Goose waystation,” Cao Shuncai said, smoothly. “I’ve kept the stable and the lamps there for eleven years, honoured Commissioner.”

“Tell the commission what you saw on the twelfth night,” Situ Mingzhao said.

Cao Shuncai spoke without hurrying or stumbling. Shi Feng listened closely. The man sounded practised, but confidence wouldn’t make his account true. A great lord in black had come up the pass alone that evening, he said, and taken the east room by the stable, the best room in the place. Late in the night, Cao Shuncai had been crossing the yard. He had seen a young swordsman in grey go to the great lord’s door and step inside. There was a shout. Then the young swordsman came out again with blood on his sword.

“That one,” Cao Shuncai said, and finally pointed at the accused’s bench. “I saw his face by lamplight, as clearly as I see it now. Heaven sees what men do, Commissioner. I couldn’t keep quiet.”

A murmur ran through the Linghu benches. Somebody there began to cry.

Long Zhenlei leaned forward at the Long seat with his elbows on the table. He wasn’t frowning. He looked interested.

“Master Shi may question the witness,” Situ Mingzhao said.

Shi Feng stood up. He didn’t leave the bench.

“Master Cao,” Shi Feng said pleasantly. “Which room was it?”

“The east room, sir,” Cao Shuncai said. “By the stable.”

“And which lamp did you see my face by?” Shi Feng asked.

“The big lamp under the eaves, sir. By the door of the long hall,” Cao Shuncai said. He sounded more comfortable now. These were easy questions. “It lights the whole yard.”

“What oil does the keeper burn in it?” Shi Feng asked.

The hall stirred. A few people in the gallery laughed. Cao Shuncai blinked, then smiled.

“Rapeseed oil, sir,” Cao Shuncai said. “Good oil. The keeper doesn’t buy the cheap kind for the eaves.”

“Does it burn all night?” Shi Feng asked.

“All night, sir, till dawn,” Cao Shuncai said, and nodded firmly. “The keeper never lets the eaves go dark while there are guests in the yard. I trimmed the wicks myself at midnight. That’s my job.”

“So at the hour you saw me,” Shi Feng said, “every lamp along those eaves was lit.”

“Every one, sir,” Cao Shuncai said.

“There were six that night,” Shi Feng said. “Hung round the yard, over eleven salt wagons. I was sitting on the salt sacks under them.” He spoke calmly. “They went out one at a time, Master Cao, from the far end of the eaves toward the wagons, without a sound. All six were dark long before the second watch. They didn’t come back on that night. Nobody trimmed anything at midnight.”

Cao Shuncai froze with the smile still on his face. He’d committed himself to seeing Shi Feng under lamps that weren’t burning.

“I…” Cao Shuncai said. “Perhaps the wind—”

“There was no wind in that yard,” Shi Feng said. “There was no sound at all. That’s how I knew someone was putting them out.”

“Then I relit one,” Cao Shuncai said quickly. “Yes, I must have relit one, after—”

“You just told the commission you trimmed them all at midnight,” Shi Feng said. “Which was it? Did you trim six lamps that were burning, or relight one that had gone out?”

Cao Shuncai looked at the commission table. Situ Mingzhao was writing. Pang Yue wasn’t writing. Pang Yue was looking at Cao Shuncai’s new coat.

“It was dark, sir,” Cao Shuncai said at last, and his voice had gone thin. “I don’t remember every lamp.”

“A moment ago you saw my face as clearly as you see it now,” Shi Feng said, and sat down. “I have no more questions, Commissioner.”

The gallery broke out in whispers.

“Six lamps out and he still saw his face?”

“He’s lying. You can hear it.”

“When the water goes down, the stones show,” an old Yelü said loudly from the front row. “Just wait.”

Situ Mingzhao struck the table once. The hall went quiet again. The commissioner finished his line of writing before he looked up, and when he did, he looked at Shi Feng with the same courtesy as before.

“The commission notes the witness’s confusion about the lamps,” Situ Mingzhao said. “A frightened man may mistake an hour, Master Shi. That is not uncommon.” He set down his brush. “The commission also notes that no other witness to that night has come forward. Not one. A confused witness is still a witness. An absent one is nothing.”

Shi Feng understood the commissioner’s purpose. Situ Mingzhao could acknowledge the contradictions and still keep Cao Shuncai’s account in the record. Without another witness, Shi Feng had only his own denial to oppose it.

On the Linghu side, Linghu Zhongshu sat straighter. In the surety’s chair, Long Caili didn’t move at all.

Yan Lianbi rose from the accused’s bench and bowed to the commission.

“Commissioner,” Yan Lianbi said, holding a slip of paper the gate clerk had just passed him. “With respect. The Pavilion has a correction for the record. Witnesses for the guest have arrived.”

“Where?” Situ Mingzhao asked.

“At the gate, Commissioner,” Yan Lianbi said. “All of them. They’re asking whether they should bring the wagons in as well.”