“Do you want me to bring them all in?” Wei Yang asked after he’d set down the sack, filled mostly with rolled-up scrolls similar to that which Liu now looked over.
“All of them,” Liu answered, not taking his eyes from the scroll.
Wei Yang nodded to himself, having expected that answer, and headed back toward the tent flap. His long black mustache flowed down his face and met his beard above his chest. His nose was rather large, while his eyes were rather small, his eyebrows slanting down in an accusatory fashion. They slanted down further as he stepped out of the tent and squinted in the bright sunlight, a sharp contrast from the barely lit tent which his master preferred. He’d been apprentice to Liu Kui for nearly ten years, yet in all that time he still couldn’t get used to the single candle that Liu found sufficient to light all his tasks.
Wei grabbed another sack from the chariot and carefully slung it over his shoulder before grabbing the last sack of scrolls and turning back toward the tent. He’d asked Liu when they were preparing to leave Anyi why he’d need so many materials when they’d be gone for so short a period of time.
“Marquis Wen is an intelligent man,” Liu had replied, “and I never know what it is he’ll ask of me. It’s far better to be overly prepared than it is to be caught off-guard and without an answer.”
“But surely anything that the Marquis asks you will already have an answer for, stowed away in your own mind from countless years of study,” Wei had argued.
“Most probably,” Liu had replied, before giving his characteristic half-smile, part of his mouth trying to tilt downward while the other side tilted up, “but it is far better to supply the Marquis with knowledge as opposed to making him ask for it.”
Wei had thought on that for some time afterward and even more so during the journey north. There’d been no opportunity to talk during the ride, the horse’s hooves and chariot’s wheels creating enough noise to make such impossible, so his mind was allowed time to wander, something he rather enjoyed. It’d been a long journey, however, and one with few stops, none for more than an hour at a time, to rest the horses and give the men a short reprieve. Wei was looking forward to conversing with his master once again, something he’d at first imagined would occur in abundance during the journey. Liu, though now in a position to do just that, seemed more interested in leafing through his various scrolls; something he could do anytime and anywhere, and indeed had done countless times over the years.
“It’s a wonder he even needs the scrolls anymore, the way he reads them all the time,” Wei muttered to himself as he began walking toward the tent flap once again. “I’d imagine the words would’ve written themselves on his eyelids by now.”
Wei quietly entered the tent and put down the last two sacks near the four that were already there, then stood silently and waited for his master to notice him. The square tent was small, erected not an hour earlier by some of the soldiers they’d arrived from Anyi with. The walls were only pinned-down with metal stakes at the four corners, which allowed the slight breeze to ruffle the spaces between and let a bit more light in. A rug, once deep red but now faded to a dull brown with dust and age, had been laid down over the dirt of the tent floor. There was another chair besides that which Liu sat in, the central wooden support post of the tent between them, as well as a small table next to one wall which held a teapot and two cups.
Liu took his time, whether because he wanted to make Wei wait or because he was absorbed in the scroll in front of him, Wei wasn’t sure. Several minutes passed before Liu rolled the scroll back up and gently placed it on his lap. He stared off into the distance, deep in thought for a few moments, before slapping his hands on his knees.
“It’s been a long journey from Anyi,” Liu said as he slowly rose from his chair, “and a tiring one. Still,” he continued, moving over toward the small table, “Marquis Wen will be fully awake late into the night, his excitement over the city’s imminent downfall tomorrow overriding any lethargy the journey may have produced.”
Liu poured two steaming cups of tea and held one out for Wei.
“He will surely call on you then, wanting your counsel on some issue,” Wei said as he walked over and took the cup from Liu, careful to hold the cup near the top so the steaming tea wouldn’t burn his fingers.
“And what issue will he seek counsel on?” Liu asked, his eyebrows arched up high, a sight Wei had become used to over the years and secretly looked forward to. These question and answer sessions were the basis of the education that Wei had received at the hands of Liu, and he was eager to begin again after the three-day reprieve.
Wei sipped the tea then threw his shoulders back and held his head up high, confident in his knowledge. “He’ll most likely ask about the State of Zhongshan and what will become of it after it’s defeated and incorporated into Wei.”
“That’s something that he’ll be given advice on tonight, whether he asks for it or not,” Liu said before taking a sip of his tea and fixing Wei with his penetrating eyes.
“But not necessarily by you,” Wei said, seeing where this was going.
Liu kept the cup to his lips and his eyes on Wei, silently prodding him to continue.
“Several advisors will be called tonight to give their thoughts and impressions on the situations facing the State of Wei now that one of its rivals has fallen,” Wei said confidently. “Marquis Wen’s military advisors will be the dominant force in the discussions, as they’ll have the numbers. Zhai Huang is never hesitant to give his opinion, militarily or otherwise, but what will most likely interest Marquis Wen the most tonight is what Yue Yang has to say. The General hasn’t had a chance to have a lengthy meeting with the Marquis in several years, and I’m sure Marquis Wen is eager to hear his thoughts.”
“And the Marquis’s family?” Liu asked. “What of them?”
“Wu always has the ear of his father, whether Marquis Wen likes it or not,” Wei said. “What interests me is whether Hui will be at the meeting or not.”
“And why does that interest you,” Liu said as he moved away from the table and back to his chair.
“Marquis Wen doesn’t often see his grandson, and now that the boy has reached manhood while serving in the trenches here in Zhongshan, his grandfather might be more interested in hearing what he has to say.”
Liu nodded. “Go on.”
“It’s no secret in the royal palace that Wu isn’t made of the same material as his father, and this worries many. His grandson, however, is believed to be very similar, if, as I’ve heard, a bit reckless. Whether that’s just a symptom of his youth or something which runs deeper in his character, only time will tell. I’m sure, though, that Marquis Wen would like to hear Hui’s thoughts and gauge for himself the merit of the boy, or man, as I should now get used to calling him.”
“You should,” Liu said.
“But what will you tell the Marquis?” Wei asked after a moment.
“What he wants to know and what he needs to know, not always in equal order and not always in the ratio that he might want to hear,” Liu answered. “You see, Wei, the real talent that an advisor to one in power has to cultivate is what to say and when to say it. Marquis Wen is an educated man and a wise ruler, but he still, like most men, prefers to hear what he wants, not what he needs. It is my duty to balance his wants with his needs, for rarely do the two coincide.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand,” Wei admitted, not at all embarrassed that he wasn’t following his master. That shortcoming had been drummed out of him years before.
“Marquis Wen wants to defeat Zhongshan, but he doesn’t need to,” Liu said, settling himself more comfortably into his chair. “The State of Zhongshan lies across the State of Zhao, and Marquis Wen had to get permission from Zhao to move his men and materials across their state. This wasn’t something he needed to do, but there could be little done to persuade him of that at the time.”
“Marquis Wen feared that if he didn’t defeat Zhongshan then Zhao woul
d,” Wei ventured.
“Precisely,” Liu confirmed. “And that is precisely why he has also spent the last five years battling the State of Qin in the west. It isn’t something that he needs to do, but if he doesn’t do it then most likely Zhao will.”
“What Marquis Wen didn’t want to do, but chose to do anyway because he needed to, is more important” Wei interrupted.
“And what might that have been?” Liu asked, pleased that Wei was taking the initiative in the discussion.
“The internal changes to the state that you laid out in your Book of Law,” Wei answered. “Without those changes to the way the bureaucracy functions, the farmland is administered and maintained, and how the army operates, Wei couldn’t have come into the dominant position that it now enjoys among the Seven Sates.”
“Do they enjoy the dominant position?” Liu asked.
Wei stroked his beard and thought for a moment before turning his eyes back to Liu. “It seems to me they do. Right now Wei has the greatest military strength of any of the states, something which has allowed it to send out two massive armies into the field for several years while also maintaining enough force at home to deter any attacks from the other states. Zhao to the north is its greatest threat, but it doesn’t have the power to do anything at the moment, while Han to the south is too small and doesn’t possess the might or the resources to pose a threat.”
“You’re speaking of the three states that once comprised the State of Jin,” Liu said. “And it sounds to me as if you’re laying the groundwork for an argument that Wei should attack the other two and bring them under its heel.”
“It is a possibility,” Wei admitted.
“And wouldn’t a safer course be to bring the three states together diplomatically?” Liu asked, “Something which would allow them to work together to eliminate any threats from the other four states?”
“This course is a wise one, but one that will also leave the door open to future acts of treachery,” Wei answered. “The other two states, fearing the strength of Wei, could join forces themselves and attack Wei simultaneously from the north and south, something that’d be hard to counter with two armies already in the field.”
Liu stroked his own beard. “You assume that Zhao and Han fear Wei then, is that it?”
Wei nodded. “Perhaps fear is too strong a word, but they most assuredly are concerned with Wei’s rise over the past few years.”
“It’s wise to be concerned with one’s rivals, dangerous to fear them. As to the two states joining together to attack Wei, I believe that’s a possibility without a diplomatic agreement between the three, don’t you?”
“It is,” Wei agreed.
Liu nodded. “Tell me, Wei, what of the other states?”
Wei took another sip of tea before continuing. “Qi to the east is the richest and most prosperous of the Seven States, but they’re small, and their nearly century-long civil war now has drained them of the manpower needed for a large-scale attack on any of their neighbors.”
“Something which their riches could solve through the hiring of mercenaries from the other states,” Liu countered.
“True,” Wei conceded, “but it’s something I find unlikely.”
Liu nodded, letting that comment pass without argument, although he didn’t wholly agree with it. “And the others?”
“Chu has the greatest amount of territory, but they’re disorganized. They’ve spent so many years bringing smaller states under their will that they’re stretched thin and can in no way pose a serious threat to any of their neighbors at this time. Qin in the west has a similar amount of territory, but like Qi, not a great deal of people, and unlike their western counterpart, they’re lacking in riches and resources.”
“And the seventh state?” Liu asked.
“As most agree, Yan in the far north is so far removed from the others that they at times don’t even seem like a major state at all.”
“King Weilie of Zhou doesn’t see it that way, and wants there to be seven states,” Liu said. “Remember, Wei, it is he, the King, who still holds all the power. Each of the Marquis’ are but vassals to him and subject to his will.”
“It doesn’t often seem that way,” Wei said, “and I wonder how much longer the Seven States will agree to that relationship before one of their Marquis’s declares himself a king and marches on Luoyang.”
“Let’s hope that it’s not in our lifetime,” Liu said, “for the consequences would lead to war between all of the states, resulting in death and destruction for years.”
“Isn’t it inevitable that someone will eventually try to unify the Seven States under one ruler?” Wei asked forcefully.
“Are they not already unified under Zhou?” Liu asked calmly.
“In name perhaps,” Wei said, “but what real power does Luoyang possess? Zhou holds a narrow strip of land cut from northern Han. It would be easy for one of the states to take that area.”
“An act which would lead to all-out war,” Liu said as he stood up and walked to Liu. “I know you think that course is inevitable, Wei, but remember that there are still many smaller states yet to conquer, enough for all the Seven States. Let’s hope a larger war between all of us can be avoided.”
Wei nodded, agreeing with the words openly, but in secret thinking such an idea absurd. The Seven States would fight one another, and he had no doubt that it would happen in his lifetime.
Liu took Wei’s cup and headed back to the small table to again fill it with tea. “Now, let us see if we can put this talk of war behind us and take up the more pressing problems of internal management of Wei. See if you can find the Book of Law, will you Wei?”
Wei nodded and walked to the sacks bulging with scrolls. It would be good to think of the more mundane matters of state for a few hours before the meeting later that evening, when war would again be on his mind.
FOUR
The night was alive with the light of a thousand torches. Some moved about as the men carrying them patrolled the different areas of the camp; others remained immobile, fastened to poles, tents, or confined to fire pits. Some were even perched high atop the Zhongshan capital’s city walls, burning defiantly above the besieging camp and trenches below.
Most tents had at least one torch burning outside their front flaps, and some even had two. One tent in particular, however, had none. This was odd, as it was the largest tent in the camp, erected just that afternoon. The tent was set well away from all others around it, and a perimeter of guards stood watch outside, allowing passage to those who warranted it, turning away those who did not.
Ximen Bao was one who was allowed to pass, and he walked by the guards silently and up to the tent. He paused a few feet from the flap and looked down at his clothes. He’d worked firming up the embankments well past dark, later than he’d planned. With no time to rush back to his own tent to change into proper attire for the evening’s meeting, he quickly decided to trade his wet and muddy work clothes with a drier pair worn by a common worker. He looked down at the faded red robes and frowned to himself. They certainly weren’t fit for an audience with Marquis Wen, and he wondered if he shouldn’t have bothered changing at all. Marquis Wen was the kind of man who smiled upon hard work, and his chief engineer appearing at the evening’s meeting still wearing the dirtied clothing from the day’s toils would most likely have pleased him.
Ximen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was nothing to do for it now, he thought to himself as he took the last few steps to the tent flap and drew it aside. Light spilled upon him as he entered and he had to squint at the sudden change.
“Now that we’re all here I think we can get the meeting started,” someone said as soon as Ximen entered the tent.
Ximen eyes grew wider at the words and he scanned about. The tent was large, and he could tell now in the light produced from the half-dozen candelabras spread about that it was dark red in color. Two large wooden support beams held up the roof in the middle while each si
de was carefully staked down, allowing not the slightest space where an enemy or eavesdropper could gain an illicit entry. Rich and ornate carpets, swirling with multitudinous colors, covered the earthen floor, and cushioned seats were spread about with no apparent concern for who sat where. Several tables stood about the tent, the larger off to the sides against the walls, the smaller next to chairs or support beams. Ximen noticed one that held a teapot and several cups and he made his way to it as the others in the tent moved about around him.
“I see you’ve had a chance to change since this afternoon, Ximen,” Zhai Huang said.
Ximen reached the table and poured himself a scalding cup of tea and took a sip before looking up again. Zhai Huang was standing off by himself against one side of the tent, his dark brown robes free of dust and dirt.
“Unlike yourself,” Ximen replied to Zhai, “I was working alongside my men well-past dark and didn’t have time to change into proper clothing.”
This drew a short laugh from Yue across the tent, although Ximen saw Zhai frown slightly at the remark. Taking another sip of tea, he scanned the room. Besides himself and the Minister of War, six other men were present.
Seated against the wall of the tent was Liu Kui, his black robes and hair still dusty from the journey. Ximen gave a slight nod, which was returned by Liu, the man’s penetrating eyes showing respect. Next to him sat his young apprentice, if a man in his early forties could be called young. He tried to emulate the indifferent attitude of his master, but Ximen could tell the man was excited to have been allowed in attendance tonight.
The Warring States, Books 1-3 Page 4