Pearl Buck - Peony

“Soon only the shell of the synagogue will be left,” Eli said mournfully, “and one day when a storm blows from the south it will fall into ruins and rubble.”

Madame Ezra could not speak one word for a long time. She went from one sight to another, and Wang Ma, waiting outside, grew frightened and came to find her.

“Lady, rest yourself!” she exclaimed. “There are thieves in every temple.”

Madame Ezra turned on Eli. “How was it that you did not come and tell me this long ago?”

“Lady, I did not know,” the old man pleaded. “I could not leave my master night or day, and none of our people came to tell what was happening.”

“I cannot think they would have dared to steal from Jehovah’s house, unless one led them on!” she exclaimed.

A strange thought came to her mind, but she would not speak it before these two who were not her equals. “I will go home,” she said, “and do you watch, Eli. Let it be known that I will demand of the Chinese magistrate that he flog the thieves and set them in racks before the populace to starve.”

So saying she went home again, her heart all grief, and she could not wait until Ezra and David came home. She sent Old Wang to fetch them and Wang Ma added her own message that they must come because she feared her mistress was ill. Hearing this, Ezra called David from his own room, which he now had in the shop, and they went home. There they found Madame Ezra waiting and she broke into sobs when she saw them, and they had much trouble amid her sobbing to hear what was wrong, and had it not been for Wang Ma, who stood there with hot tea in a bowl to hold to her mistress’s lips, nothing would have been clear.

When all was told, Madame Ezra suddenly stopped crying. Now was the time for her surmise. “I well know the paltry folk our people have become could not have dared to steal from Jehovah Himself,” she declared.

Both men waited to hear what came next.

“I tell you,” Madame Ezra went on, “there is only one who would do what has been done, and he is that Aaron. He must be found, Ezra. He hides somewhere in the city, and he directs the thieves. Let the curse of God fall on him!”

“How can I find him?” Ezra groaned.

“The Chinese can find thieves,” Madame Ezra urged.

“There is a king of thieves in the city,” David said. “His name is known at the magistrate’s court, where he pays yearly tribute, and through him Aaron can be found.”

“Can you do this, my son?” Ezra asked.

David bowed his head. “A sad task,” he said shortly, “but I can do it.”

So David called upon the magistrate, and paid the money down to meet the king of thieves in that city. On a certain day the man would come to a distant teahouse on the edge of the city, and he was to be known by a red cord twisted in his buttonhole, and he was to sit far inside the house, out of easy sight. David, he decreed, must come alone. When Madame Ezra heard this she was frightened and she insisted that Eli go and stand near the door, unseen. None among the Chinese in the house knew what went on, for Ezra was ashamed, and so indeed were David and his mother.

On the day David went to the appointed place the man was waiting, a thin long smooth-faced man, dressed in a black silk robe, and he sat with a bowl of tea in his hand. This hand David saw as soon as he sat down and greeting had been given. The hand was like a ferret, so narrow and thin and long it was. Seeing it, David loathed the whole man, and he came at once to his business.

“I act for my father,” David said. “We would find the thieves who take the bricks from our temple and the sacred vessels and the silk curtains, and all that is gone. If these can be restored, we will pay well. But we will even pay something only to know what has become of them and who the one is that dares to steal from our people.”

The man smiled an evil cold smile. “He is one of your own,” he said.

Then David knew his mother was right. “His name is Aaron,” he said.

“What his name is I do not know,” the man replied. “We call him Li the Foreigner.”

“But that one could never lift the heavy bricks or the great vases,” David exclaimed.

“No, but he puts courage into the ones who help him,” the man replied, sneering. “They fear lest the foreign god take revenge on them, but this fellow promises them that no punishment will fall upon them. He is the son of the priest, he says, and he knows all the prayers.”

“Where is this one?” David asked.

The man looked very cunning. “If I deliver him to you, how much money will you put in my hand? It is loss for me, you understand.”

With loathing in all his blood David contrived to match this cunning. “We do not care whether we see his evil face or not,” he said. “Keep him if you wish. But from now on the synagogue is guarded, and your loss is the same.”

So bargaining, David promised thirty pieces of silver, and with these he bought the traitor back.

“He lives hidden in a hut inside the gate of a house that stands six doors from here,” the man told him. “If you follow me, I will show you. But first I must see the silver.”

“I brought no silver,” David said. “You know my father’s house and that we are in contract with the merchant Kung Chen. You can trust me.”

After some demur the man agreed and he rose and they went down the street, and he pointed to the door. “He is always there by day,” he said.

“The silver will reach your hand tonight,” David said, and then he crossed the street and without fear he entered the gate and suddenly opened the door of a hut and there inside a mean small room Aaron lay huddled on a bed made of boards.

David went to him and shook him, and when he saw David he woke out of sleep and stirred himself sullenly. “What do you want?” he asked.

David stared down at him, and despised him utterly, and yet he could not strike him or curse him.

“I ought to give you to the magistrate to be flogged,” he muttered. “And yet you are one of our people! Aaron, how could you do what you have done?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” the cur replied.

“Ah, you know,” David sighed. He sat down on a stool and leaned his head on his hands. “I am glad your father never knew,” he said. “I am glad Leah is dead.”

Aaron scratched himself and yawned and said nothing.

David stood up again. “Come, I give you a choice! You shall have a place somewhere in the shops — some work where eyes are always on you. If you do not choose this, then I turn you over to the city prison.”

The end of this was that after a few minutes more Aaron chose to come with him. With loathing on all sides against him, from that day he ate Ezra’s food and wore his castoff clothing, and carried messages from one shop to another between Ezra and Kung Chen. None trusted him alone with goods or cash, and his life sank to less than any in Ezra’s house.

As for Madame Ezra, she gave up hope, knowing that never could the synagogue be rebuilt, and she took no pleasure in anything that Ezra said to comfort her.

“See, my Naomi,” he told her often. “You have everything to make a woman rejoice. Our son is among the most respected of the young merchants of the city. It was only a few days ago that Kung Chen said to me, ‘Elder Brother, your son has saved me the quarter of a year’s income.’ ‘How?’ I asked. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘for the last ten years there has been a leak somewhere in my affairs. Try as I have, and my sons, too, we have not known where. Last year I sent even my eldest son to the northern capital to make a written copy of all goods bought and sold. When it came back we found no fault, and yet there was loss. But I gave the copy to your son—’ ”