by G R Matthews
“Yes, Sir.” Haung bowed and then before he knew it followed up with, “About Cheng, Sir.”
The Commander, who had already returned to his reading, looked up. “Yes, what about him?”
“Sir.” Haung was searching through his mind for the right words to use. “After the Wubei left us in the garden he mentioned something, Sir.”
“Did he? You made only a brief reference in your report, Haung. Is it something we should know or worry about?” the Commander gave Haung a cold, blank stare.
“Well,” Haung could feel his confidence wriggling away from him like a slimy fish fresh from the river, “I only reported the facts, Sir.”
“Good, that is the way it should be. The negotiations are at a critical stage and Cheng is playing his part masterfully, your own report says so. I will repeat myself, just once, is there anything you want to tell me?” Haung detected a heavy emphasis on the word ‘want’ that tore the hook from the fishes mouth and sent it flapping across the ground towards the safety of the fast flowing river.
“No, Sir.” Haung bowed deeply whilst cursing himself for even mentioning anything.
“Good. Your training is paying off in many surprising ways, Haung. You are dismissed.” The Commander returned to his reading, one hand resting on the cup of wine.
# # #
As ordered, the next morning Haung arrived at the duke’s residence to be met by Marbu and Commander Weyl. They were coming out of the duke’s rooms with the Duke of Yaart himself. Haung had never been this close to the man in all the years he lived in the city and castle. Rising to over six feet in height, which was way above average for the people of Yaart, and dressed in deep blue silk with white fur trim, the duke was an imposing figure. Around his waist, a thick leather belt drew in the robe, emphasising his strong physique. A jewel hilted dagger rested in a sheath on the belt and both hands had a full complement of gemstone embedded rings. The last ornament was the thin gold circlet that prevented the Duke’s long dark hair from obscuring his face.
But more than that, there was an aura that reached out to Haung. At first, he felt it as a chill touch creeping across the skin of his arms and face, then as a sense of warmth and affection. He felt his eyes drawn to the duke’s, who was talking in quiet tones to the commander. Both Weyl and Marbu seemed to be similarly drawn to the ruler of Yaart. Their faces, normally cold, calculating and professional, were alive with warmth. Even Marbu was smiling as the duke spoke. Haung found it disquieting.
Mentally, he shook himself and ran through a few of the calming mantras the Fang-shi had taught him at the beginning of his Jiin-Wei training. As the duke approached, Haung built up a wall in his mind against his emotions, holding them back and keeping them under control. As he did so, the feelings of warmth and affection ebbed away.
“And this is Jiin-Wei Haung, your Lordship,” Weyl indicated. “Although just finishing his training, he has already proven to be a good and loyal asset.”
“I am glad.” The duke looked at Haung, into his eyes.
Haung could feel that something was expected of him and bowed deeply, as custom and politeness demanded. He spoke from the bowed position, “It is my honour to serve.”
“Commander Weyl tells me that you are to escort me to the negotiations and be part of the final act that seals the treaty we need so badly.” The duke’s voice was rich and warm. It flowed like warm honey over the walls that Haung had built and he could almost taste their sweet sincerity. He focused again on the walls he had built. “Rise, Jiin-Wei Haung.”
“Thank you, your Lordship,” Haung responded.
“Well, Commander, you seem to have chosen an interesting agent for this task. Most interesting,” the duke said.
“He will not let you down, your Lordship,” Weyl replied whilst, from the corner of his eye, Haung saw Marbu direct a sneer towards him.
Haung accompanied the duke to the negotiating room. They paused outside the door.
“Haung, I know Jiin-Wei are instructed in the hidden arts. Could you make it so that we can hear the discussion taking place? Putting cups to walls is very childish and lacks a certain flair.” The duke smiled at him.
Haung dipped a finger into the small jar of oil he carried on his belt and traced two symbols on the door and then, chanting quietly, touched himself and then the duke, respectfully, on their right ears.
“I will not budge.” Haung recognised Hsin’s weedy voice. “The cattle must be delivered to Wubei or no peace will be had. In a year’s time, by my reckoning, we will simply march in over the famine that is sure to follow.”
“Honoured Hsin,” Cheng’s stronger voice came through, “if it is as you say, then without our golden cattle we cannot hope to feed the people of Yaart. We gain nothing by giving them to you. Peace itself would not be enough. I am sure you can see that.”
“Master Hsin,” Haung took a moment to place the voice, it was the younger diplomat, “the cattle are not needed. We have enough for peace, which is our mission here. You threaten it with these demands. Cheng has outlined the duke’s position clearly. Please, Master.”
“Zhou, be quiet.” Hsin’s voice was waspish. “Haven’t you learnt your place yet.”
“Please, listen to him Venerable Hsin, we can have peace. All you need do is sign the treaty and the war can end. Both nations can rebuild.” Cheng’s voice again.
“Master, please. This is what we came here for. The terms are good and reasonable.” Zhou’s voice was pleading.
“Not a moment too soon or late.” The duke smiled and put a hand out to stop the Jiin-Wei from opening the door. “Patience, a few more turns of the screw, I think.”
“Zhou, you are a disgrace to Wubei and your family. We will have peace but on my, on our, terms. Cheng, include the cattle, they become Wubei property and you have your needed peace.” Hsin’s voice was now full of venom.
“Hsin, I cannot. I regret that we cannot have peace but, if that is to be then it is to be.” Cheng sounded resigned to fate.
“Don’t try that with me, Dishonourable Cheng,” Hsin cackled. “Such an obvious trick. Maybe Zhou here would fall for it but not I. You know I have studied the Yaart over the decades of this war. I wanted to find the weakness and now I have. Your country is doomed unless we have a treaty of peace, ratified by the emperor, only then can you be sure that we will not interfere with your re-building or your efforts to assist the victims of the disaster. The coming famine will be your end. Give me the cattle.”
“Hsin...” Haung heard both Cheng and the young Wubei diplomat speak at the same time.
“No. Zhou, you’ve lived a sheltered life. You haven’t lived with this war and felt its effects on the people. Your family have looked after you, bought you the training and education, the position you now hold. I had to work for it. Thirty years ago, I lived in one of those villages on the plain. A farmer, with a wife and child. And then, they came, riding behind clouds of dust and destroyed it all. I had to crawl from the wreckage and make my way to the city.”
“I’m sorry, but,” the young diplomat began.
“I don’t need your sorry or your pity, Zhou. I need those cattle, Cheng.” Hsin’s voice cracked on the last words.
“Hsin, I do not have the power to release those cattle.” Cheng tried to explain over the splutterings of the Senior Diplomat of Wubei. “They were never part of my remit to negotiate. Only the duke can make such a decision.”
“Then get him here.” Hsin’s clipped tones brought a smile to the duke’s face.
“Now, I think,” he said to Haung and waved him forward.
The door swung open and Haung walked into the room. All three negotiators froze in place, fingers raised in anger, mouths open, heated words on their tongues, and turned to look at the guard who had entered.
“My Lords, the Duke of Yaart,” Haung introduced.
The duke strode into the room and Haung watched him paint a look of shock and surprise on his face.
“What is this?” The
duke spoke calmly and again Haung felt warmth and generosity flow from the duke. He rebuilt the calm wall in his mind and the feeling washed against it like a gentle river. “Gentlemen, I thought that you had reached an agreement on peace.”
“My Lord,” Cheng started, “we had. The agreements were all in place. All that is required is the signature of the representative of Wubei. But, I am sad to report that there is a problem.”
“Really?” responded the duke. “Surely one that can be easily overcome. Thirty years of war is a waste of our young men’s talents and lives. We must have peace.”
“Peace,” sneered Hsin, “you do not want peace, truly. You want time to rebuild. I know all about the disaster and coming famine. You cannot stop it, nor buy your way out of it. Give me what I want, the stone cattle who produce gold from grass, and I will guarantee food aid from Wubei and its trading partners.”
“The traders?” the duke asked in a helpless tone and his shoulders slumped.
“Yes, the traders. The best source of information out there. You hoped to have this done and signed before we found out. Hence, the sudden proposal of peace, the giving away of land so easily. We found out and now, I know, you need peace much more than we do.”
The Duke moved slowly, looking years older than when he had walked in, to sit down on the cushions. The calm, warm river that had brushed against Haung’s mind turned deep and sorrowful. It tugged on the walls of his constructed dam, seducing him into drowning in its depths. He stood firm and plugged the gaps and cracks that were appearing along the protective barrier. He could see that, whatever power the duke had was working on the other three men in the room.
“It’s true, Cheng. Not common knowledge amongst everyone at court but you’ve seen the town of tents outside our walls. You’ve seen the stream of newcomers increase in number. My scouts tell me more and more are on the way. My Geographers and Historians can recite times past when such disasters happened and almost destroyed Yaart. Why do you think we have the Jade Cattle? My ancestors have always had them, hidden away in different parts of the country, providing the wealth my family used to build and control Yaart in the first place. The first emperor, Qin-Quay, divided his Herd of Jade Heaven between his loyal supporters. As far as I know, these are the last still alive. The others lost or killed in squabbles over land and wealth.”
“Your Lordship, why did you keep this from me?” Cheng asked, moving to kneel before his Lord.
“Because you would not be able to negotiate as I know you can with this weight of knowledge hanging over your head, only the slender thread of time keeping it from crushing you. We have no choices left. If Wubei want the cattle then give them. You have my permission. If they will aid us in the coming crisis then we stand a chance. If we delay much longer then it will be too late and all the wealth in the empire will not save the people or the city. As the diplomat has said, Wubei could ride in, just a year or two from now, and pick over the ruins of Yaart. Give them the cattle in return for aid.”
“My Lord.” Cheng bowed in obedience.
“Honoured Hsin, my reports on you were correct,” the duke said slowly. “You are a tough negotiator, though my sources underrated your intelligence. Looking back, I could wish that Wubei had sent someone else but the past cannot concern me now, only the future of my people.”
“You have made a wise decision, Duke Yaart,” Hsin said, satisfaction and glee bubbled under his words. “Your people will thank you. Aid will be on its way as soon as the cattle reach Wubei.”
“We may need it sooner than that. You understand the problem of moving the cattle, don’t you?” The Duke’s tone and face were now concerned. “They are not like cows or sheep in the field. They need constant feeding to survive but also, and more importantly for Wubei, they weigh hundreds of tons each. The track between Yaart and Wubei, especially in the mountains will not be enough to support them. One misstep or crumbling trial and they could be lost.”
“Then we will build a road, a strong road to take the cattle and bring your aid. I will speak on your behalf to my Duke. Aid may come sooner than the cattle but we must be assured that they are coming.” Hsin’s voice had returned to its normal whisper.
“I will have the treaty ratified by the emperor as soon as it is signed. I will use our fastest horses and best riders. We could have a response inside a week or two. Also, we will begin work on the road from our end before you leave the city, Honourable Hsin. That should assure you and your Duke of our sincerity. In truth, you know we have no choices left to us but to do this thing. Even to give up two thousand years of my family’s history. It must be done and quickly.” The duke looked at Hsin and waited for a response.
“As you say, Lord of Yaart. It shall be so. We will leave for Wubei as soon as the emperor’s seal is upon the treaty.” Hsin bowed to the duke who then left the room.
Haung followed his lord out and then respectfully closed the doors. His last sight of the room was of Hsin rubbing his greedy hands together in expectation and joy. The doors closed with a solid clunk.
“It all goes to plan,” the duke said.
Part 2
CHAPTER 9
Zhou surveyed the scene. The road, a full 40 paces wide, was nearing the foothills of Wubei province. The winter storm was howling off the mountains and the workers were huddled, cold, around the orange coals of the braziers. No more work would be completed this day, which was fine with Zhou as he was just as exhausted as the builders.
Hsin had returned in triumph to Wubei. The Duke, after seeing the treaty and the emperor’s seal, had promoted Hsin to be the head of the diplomatic service. Hsin’s first act in charge was to demote Zhou from diplomat to bureaucrat. Despite his father-in-law’s pleas and his campaigning of other government officials the decision could not be overturned. Hsin’s rising power was too great. The building of the road had begun and Zhou had been shipped out to manage and account for the work of the advance crew.
“Why did you argue with him?” His wife had asked again and again. Zhou could not muster a defence. He was broken.
The small paunch that Zhou had developed during his teaching career had dwindled to nothing during the weeks on the road. Zhou returned to his tent and sat heavily on the wooden framed bunk. The only other furniture was a small chest that doubled as a writing desk and a stove that provided a meagre heat through the night - it was more than many of the workers had. He dipped a hand under his pillow and unfolded the artist’s drawing of his son he had commissioned before he left. The little round face, dark almond eyes and innocent smile had been captured perfectly and Zhou gazed at them, sighed, and placed it back. He patted the pillow.
He took the map from the cylindrical case he always carried now. Flattening it out on the bed he traced the route of the road from Wubei to the Yaart capital. His finger rested on Yaart, it was supposed to be the place where he realised his true worth and potential but it had, instead, been the site of his downfall. Angrily, he shook his head and returned his finger to the point on the map the road had reached. A few more weeks in the foothills and then it would be out onto the plains. The winter weather was spreading colds and illness amongst the men of the road crew, work was getting slower and days were being lost. There was no doubt that the final build would be behind schedule unless more men came to help the advance crew out.
Zhou moved over to the writing desk and put a fresh piece of paper on top of the pile. Dipping the brush pen into the inkwell he began to form the characters of a letter. His lines were clean and graceful, each character formed to perfection but the message half-hearted. When he had finished, he placed the brush back onto its lacquered stand and held the letter up to the light to read it back. His eyes moved up and down the columns, ensuring the meaning was clear. Satisfied that it was correct he screwed it up into a ball and threw it into the corner to land alongside the other three he had written today. All of them asking for more men and resources, pointing out the troubles of building in winter and the need to ge
t the foundations of the road completed on time. The road surface laying crew were bound to catch up his advance crew somewhere in the plains and then he would have failed again. There was little point in sending the letters though. All the others he had written and sent had been returned with notes of refusal and exhortations to get on with it. The letter writing was now more a method to work out his own stress than any actual attempt to reason with the bureaucrats above him, each of whom reported to Hsin.
He left his tent and headed to the mess tent. It had become his evening ritual. Write a letter, throw it or, on occasion watch it burn in the little stove, and then head off to get some food. As usual, at this time, the mess contained a good number of builders getting their evening meal before they stumbled off to bed. None of them waved, spoke or in any way acknowledged his presence. He was pushing them hard, he knew it, but they were paid to work, it was their livelihood and they should think themselves lucky not to be pressed into service for a pittance of pay. At least here, they were getting reasonable pay for a hard day’s work.
The crew’s cook, Zhou would never call him a chef, handed over a bowl of steamed rice and waved laconically at the selection of meat sauces. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Zhou watched without expression as it was spooned over his plain white rice, the dark juice searching out the gaps between the grains and sinking quickly. A tiny amount of stringy meat and wrinkled vegetables were left, marooned on the top, like survivors of a particularly vicious shipwreck. Picking up some rough cut chopsticks from the bin, he scanned the room for a place to sit and spotted a likely place not far from the door.
As he sat down, the two other men at the table got up, chucked their bowls in the wash bin and left. They didn’t say a word to him. Sighing, he gripped the largest of the ugly looking vegetables and raising it to his mouth, took a bite. He fought hard not to gag as he chewed and then swallowed. The first bite was always the worst, from then on the taste buds seemed to shut down in self-defence. He forced himself to choke the bowlful of the food down. He had to set a good example, he told himself.