Tiger - Jeff Stone [33]
“Surely, I have,” the Drunkard said.
Fu sneered. “Next you're going to tell me that the monks you spent time with were from the great Shaolin Temple, right?” Fu leaned forward.
The Drunkard leaned forward, too. “Perhaps,” he said. The Drunkard lost his balance and stumbled into the cage. It shook violently.
Fu leaned back. “You're pathetic. You only say that because Shaolin is so famous, even a lowly, homeless Drunkard would have heard of it. What would you know about Shaolin?”
The Drunkard brushed his tangled hair to the side. “I know that the monks there never attack innocent villagers.”
Fu banged his fists against the front of the cage. “That's not fair! I said I was sorry!”
The hair fell back over the Drunkard's eyes. He continued to stare but said nothing more.
“What more can I do?” Fu asked. “I made a mistake, but I am not entirely at fault. Those hunters should share some of the blame.”
“Really?” the Drunkard asked.
“Really!” Fu said. “Listen to what I have to say, Drunkard, since no one else in this stupid village will. I am a Cangzhen monk. My temple was secret, founded by Shaolin monks who fought for Truth and defended Justice. We were recently attacked and our temple was destroyed by a traitor, and I've been sent to find others to help me stop the traitor before he ruins even more lives. That traitor is none other than Major Ying. In my search for help, I happened across some men hunting tigers for sport, one of whom was the Governor. As a Cangzhen monk, I cannot stand around while tigers are destroyed for no reason.”
“No reason?” the Drunkard said. “Did the hunters tell you that they were only hunting for sport?”
“They didn't say that they weren't,” Fu replied.
“Perhaps you should have asked them what they were doing before you attacked.”
“I saw what they were doing!” Fu said.
“Not everything is the way it looks, young man,” the Drunkard said in a fatherly tone. “Sometimes you need to listen, too. You've said it yourself.”
Fu slammed his fist down on the floor of the cage. “They had nothing to say!”
“Really?” the Drunkard asked.
“Really!”
“Tell me then, monk—what do you think of the Governor?”
Fu rolled his eyes. “He is a fool.”
“Really?”
“Really! Really! Really!” Fu said, slamming his fist down again. “A thousand times, really! Only a fool would promise those scrolls to Ying.”
The Drunkard scratched his scraggly beard. “How is the Governor to know what Major Ying might do with the scrolls?”
“I was trying to tell him!” Fu replied. “All the Governor had to do was listen to me for a second.”
“So you're saying that anyone who doesn't listen to you is a fool?”
“Yes! I mean, no!” Fu took a deep breath and paused. “What I mean is, anyone who doesn't listen in general is a fool.”
“Okay, that's fair,” the Drunkard said. He sat down on the ground in front of Fu. “I have something to say, then. Are you listening?”
Fu rolled his eyes again but kept his mouth closed and his ears open.
“The Governor's wife was killed by that tiger you saw in the pit this morning,” the Drunkard said.
“What!” Fu shouted. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I say it because it is true,” the Drunkard replied. “And remember Ho, the boy you attacked? She was Ho's mother.”
“How … how do you know this to be true?” Fu asked. He felt dizzy.
“I saw some things and heard many more. But you can decide for yourself. Did the tiger in the pit have a broken spear in its shoulder? A decorated spear?”
“Yes, it did,” Fu said. “One of the hunters must have stabbed it while it was in the pit.”
“No. That is not necessarily true. You see, several days ago Ho and his mother and father were out near the forest's edge looking for wild mushrooms, and a tiger attacked Ho's mother without warning. The Governor happened to be carrying one of his fancy spears to scare off thieves, and as the beast dragged his wife away, he bravely ran up and sank the spear deep into the tiger's shoulder. This I saw with my very own eyes, having been drawn to the scene by Ho's cries. I ran up to help the Governor, and the spear broke. The wounded tiger released