“Do you think there will be more?” Wu asked.
Wen didn’t answer as another three men came into the Hall pulling another cauldron behind them, then another group of three with yet another cauldron. King Weilie walked slowly with the large tablets in his arms and the men pulling the cauldrons even more slowly behind him. The first three men who were pulling a cauldron moved to the northernmost edge of the circle of men and carefully positioned the cauldron, the other two groups moving further along the edge of the circle to position theirs. After another few moments another group appeared pulling yet another cauldron. The process continued, with mutterings of awe from those present, as more cauldrons appeared until there were nine evenly spaced around the circle of men.
The Hall became deathly silent as the last of the white-robed men that had brought the cauldrons left the way they’d come. The men stared at the nine tripod cauldrons in silence, each now wholly aware that they were experiencing a moment in history that few ever saw. Never in any of their lifetimes had the nine tripod cauldrons been in one place together for a ceremony. The last time, all present knew, was nearly three hundred years earlier when King Xi of Zhou made Wu of Quwo the official ruler of the State of Jin in a ceremony with the other major States of the day, Qin, Chu, and Qi, present. That had ushered in a time of peace between the States that had lasted until Duke Wu of Jin’s death and the troubles that then plagued the State over his heirs’ succession.
King Weilie walked to the center of the circle of men and cauldron’s and turned around in a complete circle as he looked at each of the men there. He looked up at the white-robed men standing against the walls and nodded and four left their positions and came to him. They took the tablets from his arms and carried them back to the walls to four niches, two on each wall, depicting the sun, moon, earth, and harvest. There they set the tablets then resumed their places. King Weilie raised his arms up and addressed the assembled men.
“There has not been an assemblage like this in three hundred years,” he said, the walls of the Hall amplifying his voice for all to easily hear. “I have called you all here this evening so that we may worship and pray to those that have come before us, and to Shangdi above, that we may have peace for many years to come.”
King Weilie turned back to the south entrance to where two white-robed men were leading a large black bull into the Hall. The animal could smell that something wasn’t quite right and began to pull at the rope, but the men leading it were strong and managed to get the massive beast inside.
“I would ask that the rulers of the Seven States come down and stand next to a cauldron,” King Weilie said.
There was a few moments of hesitation as the men looked at one another, then Marquis Lie moved forward, quickly followed by the other rulers from around the circle. Within moments each man was standing next to one of the tripod cauldrons.
King Weilie nodded and several more white-robed men came into the Hall bearing nine large golden chalices. They gave one to each of the rulers and one to King Weilie. The last was placed on the floor near the nervous bull.
King Weilie nodded again and one of the white-robed men stepped forward and pulled a large, curved knife from inside his robes and handed it to the King. The man quickly stepped away and within a moment only the rulers of the Seven States and King Weilie were standing inside the inner circle. The only sound was the bull stamping its hooves nervously on the wooden floor.
King Weilie raised his arms, the knife held in one hand up toward the high ceiling.
“Our mighty ancestors, we ask for your aid and guidance here tonight,” he said loudly, his words becoming shouts as they were amplified around the Hall. “Show us the way of peace so that our children may prosper and grow strong. Show us the way of peace so that our lands may become bountiful and all will have much. Show us the way of peace so that we may honor you. Let the blood spilled here tonight be the last that is spilled among us!”
In a sudden movement King Weilie brought his arms down and took a step toward the bull. The animal took a step back but was caught off-guard by the King’s quickness. Before many in the Hall knew what was occurring the knife in King Weilie’s hand flashed toward the bull and then came back, red with blood. The bull staggered for a moment then dropped down onto its forelegs as a bright red spray of blood shot out from its throat.
“Quickly, fill the chalices!” the king said to the rulers standing around the cauldrons as he bent down and took up his own chalice and put it to the stream of blood issuing from the bull’s throat.
The moment of shock was replaced by the realization of what was happening and the rulers stepped forward to fill their golden chalices with the blood of the dying bull. Wen was the fourth in line to fill his chalice, the stream from the animal’s throat still flowing strong. After only a few moments his chalice was full and he stepped back to his cauldron. When all of the chalices had been filled, including the last which no ruler was present for so filled by King Weilie, the men stood by silently and stared at the bull. The animal was down on all four legs by this time and its eyes were growing heavy. It took another few minutes before the bull slumped over onto its side and the line of blood from its throat became just a faint trickle.
King Weilie held the extra chalice up in front of him. “We need another man to fill the last cauldron,” he said in his amplified voice. “A man that will become a ruler when it is his time.”
A faint murmur rose from the circle of men behind the cauldrons. Many knew the suspicions concerning the worship of the Gods. If a man was to put himself forward as a ruler before his time came, then it would surly bring about the death of the current ruler who he was meant to follow. It had happened before, during a ceremony to Shangdi several hundred years earlier and attended by the rulers of Jin. It had been a similar situation where there were too many tripod cauldrons and not enough rulers. An heir had called out that he would fill the last cauldron, and shortly thereafter his father had died, with turmoil engulfing Jin for several years thereafter. Similar occurrences had taken place among the smaller states over the years, and the mutterings were about that.
“I will fill it,” Wu said, stepping forward to stand next to his father.
King Weilie looked from Wu to Wen and then nodded his head. “It has been decided,” he said, and held out the last chalice to Wu.
Wen felt pride that his son had volunteered where the others had been afraid, but he too knew the superstitions and he felt an equal amount of nervousness. Wu clapped him on the back as he stepped past to take the chalice from King Weilie and then make his way to the last of the cauldrons.
King Weilie stepped up to his cauldron and then raised his chalice up.
“Peace!” he called out more loudly than he’d spoken earlier, and his voice echoed about the Hall.
“Peace!” the other eight men said together, and then they too raised their chalices.
King Weilie nodded and each man put the chalice to his lips and took a sip, then spilled the blood into the tripod cauldron beside them. Nine white-robed men then came into the Hall from both entrances carrying large wooden mallets. They walked around the circle of men handing each a mallet and taking the chalice. Within moments they were gone again and King Weilie looked at each of the eight men once again.
“Let our ancestors and Shangdi hear our prayers,” he said, and raised his mallet up over his shoulder.
The eight other men did the same and in one swift motion nine mallets were swung down to strike against the nine tripod cauldrons. The Hall echoed with the reverberation of the iron cauldrons, a clanging sound that was different from any sound the men had ever heard before. Again King Weilie raised his mallet and again the nine men struck the cauldrons, and then once more. King Weilie then lowered the head of his mallet to the floor and clutched its handle tightly, his face awash in sweat.
“The ceremony is complete,” he cried out. “Pray let the Gods be happy!
TWENTY
“I about fain
ted when that bull’s blood started to spray,” Duke Bei of Yan admitted.
Duke Dao of Chu nodded in agreement. “I thought I’d be sick!”
“I didn’t think a bull had that much blood in it,” Marquis Jing of Han said. “How long did that spray last? Five minutes?”
“Closer to ten, I’d say,” Marquis Lie of Zhao replied.
“Well, whatever it was, it seemed to last forever,” Marquis Jing said.
“And how about those cauldrons?” Duke Jian of Qin added. “I don’t think I’ll hear right for a week with all the ringing in my ears.”
Marquis Wen of Wei leaned in close to Duke Jian and made a puzzled face.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
The table erupted in laughter and Marquis Wen sat back in his chair with a large smile on his face.
The rulers of the Seven States sat around a large circular table, their heirs seated next to them. The men had been shown from the Hall of Good Harvests as soon as the ceremony had concluded and taken to a building adjacent to the Temple of Heaven grounds. There waiting for them were fresh robes – for many of them had been splattered by the blood of the bull during the ceremony. They were given time to change and then shown into a large dining hall where they were presented with foods from each of the Seven States as well as prodigious amounts of wine to go with them. King Weilie had disappeared after the ceremony, but the men were assured that he’d be attending them later to make an announcement.
“That hall can sure echo, can’t it?” Wu of Wei said as he reached for the decanter of wine sitting nearest and filled the two glasses beside him, his father’s and Marquis Jing’s, before filling his own.
“The construction on the Hall of Good Harvests is designed with acoustics in mind,” Hu Yan said from across the table, his father looking on approvingly. “The faintest whisper is meant to be picked up by the chamber and amplified tenfold. I doubt that King Weilie was speaking much louder than if he’d been standing in front of you.”
“What I want to know,” Xian of Qin said, “is how many of those white-robed attendants King Weilie has in that Temple. It seemed like more just kept coming in and coming in.”
Several men around the table nodded at the young man’s words. Of all the heirs sitting around the table, Xian of Qin was decidedly the youngest, and with good reason. He was actually the grandson of Duke Jian, his father having been killed during a campaign against one of the numerous Rong Tribes that Qin was constantly fighting against in their westward expansion.
“If you take into account the ones standing behind us against the wall, the ones that carried in the nine tripod cauldrons, and those that brought in the bull and chalices, I’d say there were at least thirty,” Lei Han, Marquis Jing’s son, said.
“Most likely many of them played dual roles so there weren’t that many,” Su Chu said.
“It was quite the elaborate ceremony,” Duke Dao said quickly and with a sharp look at his son. While he expected a certain amount of second-guessing and animosity to break out at the table before the night was through, especially with the amount of wine flowing, he didn’t want his son to be the one that caused it.
Marquis Jing shook his head. “I never in all my life thought I’d see all nine tripod cauldrons in one location.”
“It was amazing to see them all assembled here,” Duke Bei said, “but surely some of you must have known that there was a chance of that?”
“King Weilie personally requested that I send for my tripod cauldron when he learned that I was sending word back to Linzi for my son to attend me here,” Duke Kang said, the only man at the table without his heir present. “I thought that he’d make similar requests to many of you, and that he’d then assemble three, perhaps even five of the cauldrons here.” He shook his head much as Marquis Jing had done a moment before. “Never did I expect he’d get all nine.”
“He sent word to me to bring my cauldron along before I even left Danyang,” Duke Dao said. “It was quite the undertaking moving it all the way here in the bed of a single chariot, but we managed.”
“It took four horses to pull the chariot that carried mine,” Duke Jian said. “The roads through the passes from Qin lands into Han lands are not the best or easiest to travel in normal circumstances. Hauling a cauldron that weighs more than seven tons will test the patience of even the calmest of men.”
All around the table nodded at that, especially those that’d brought cauldrons with them.
“That accounts for three of the cauldrons,” Marquis Lie said, “but what of the other six? I certainly don’t have one back in Handan.”
“Nor do I have one in my capital,” Marquis Jing said. “Wen, do you?”
Marquis Wen shook his head. “No, the other three are still held by Duke Lie in Jiang. Jin has had three of the cauldrons in its possession ever since King Xi of Zhou gave them to Duke Wu of Jin nearly three hundred years ago.”
“And the other three have resided here in Luoyang,” Duke Bei said, “for Yan has never had one.”
The men nodded and the table lapsed into silence for a few minutes as wine cups were filled and the remaining plates of food picked at.
“Your son chose not to escort the cauldron?” Duke Dao asked after a time, and all eyes went to Duke Kang.
Kang shook his head. “We decided that it would be better for him to remain in Linzi.”
“Has there been any indication of what Fei Tian plans to do?” Duke Jian asked.
Several of the sons whispered to their father’s in surprise that news of the battle that’d resulted in Tai of Tian’s capture in Qi, and then his subsequent death at the hands of Marquis Wen, had reached as far west as Qin.
“There’s been no word from him, nor do we expect any,” Kang said defiantly. “The threat from House Tian is finished, as far as I’m concerned. Tai Tian’s death has ensured that.”
“So he is dead?” Duke Dao asked. “There were rumors in Chu, but nothing that could be proved.”
“I killed him myself,” Marquis Wen said suddenly. He gave a cold look to Duke Kang, for he hadn’t wanted word of Tai Tian’s death to become known so soon. There was nothing to do for that now, however, so he might as well take credit where credit was due.
There were mumblings around the table before Wen spoke again.
“There was no reason for him to die except that he pulled his sword on me while I stood before him unarmed. Perhaps he would have acted differently if he’d known that I had a dagger hidden within my robes,” he shrugged, “perhaps not. Either way, his death was brought on by himself, and I expect no retaliation from his son when the truth of the matter gets out.” He gave each of the men around the table a stern look before continuing. “However, if he does decide to come against Wei looking for vengeance, I can assure you that the House of Tian will be no more.”
Several of the men nodded at Wen’s words; they didn’t have the slightest doubt that the State of Wei could finish off the upstart House of Tian in several months if it wanted to, something that had eluded Duke Kang and his family for a century.
“It’s a bit odd, don’t you think, that Jin’s cauldrons were present at the ceremony, but Marquis Lie was not,” Duke Bei said after a tense minute of silence had passed in which most of the men stared into their cups or at the food turning cold in front of them.
“That’s because Jin is to be no more,” Duke Kang said loudly, before taking a large sip of wine. “That is why I am sitting here before you tonight and not Tai Tian. It was agreed between Wen and myself that I would suggest to King Weilie that Wei, Han, and Zhao be elevated to the status of The Three Jins, something I’D be much more qualified to do than Tai, considering the warm relationship between my father and the King.”
Many of the men at the table subtly shook their heads at Kang’s words. He’d eaten very little since they’d arrived at the table, and it was obvious that he was becoming drunk.
Wen stared daggers at Kang, but the look only seemed to embolden him f
urther.
“I’m sure, however, that now that I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain, Marquis Wen will waste no time in putting the same dagger to my throat that he put to Tai’s.”
“Enough!” Wen shouted, rising from the table. “You’re drunk!”
“Not drunk enough to see the truth before me!” Kang shouted back as he too stood up from the table.
Several of the attendants that’d served the food and drink and were now standing against the walls moved forward, but Wen stopped them with an upraised hand.
“If you should die it will be because of your own incompetence, and Wei will have nothing to do with it,” he said in a calm voice. “King Weilie this night has prayed to the Gods for peace between us, and I mean to do my part to see that prayer answered.”
All the men around the table murmured their agreement to Wen’s words, and he slowly sat back in his chair. Kang continued to stand and stare angrily at him however, and was still standing when the two large double-doors at the end of the dining hall opened and King Weilie stepped inside.
Each man in the room rose when they saw the King standing there looking at them. They bowed low, and King Weilie began moving toward the table. Duke Bei and his son Hu, as well as Duke Dao and his son Su, the four closest to the doors, quickly began clearing away dishes and cups and two of the attendants came forward bearing chairs.
“I hope the meal is to your satisfaction,” King Weilie said when he reached the table. “I thought you might enjoy dining on each other’s state cuisines.”
“The food has been splendid, and the company more so,” Duke Kang said before anyone else could answer.
King Weilie nodded and waved his hand for his son to move forward. Prince An of Zhou did so, coming to rest beside his father and behind the chair that’d been brought. He looked much like his father, although his hair was still black and his beard and mustache weren’t nearly as thin, and he didn’t have quite the same humorous sparkle in his brown eyes that his father had. He raised his hand up to his father, who clenched it tightly as he lowered himself slowly into the chair. Prince An then nodded at the others and they all resumed their seats.
The Warring States, Books 1-3 Page 23