The Warring States, Books 1-3

by Greg Strandberg

  “Zhai, alert the palace guards stationed near King Weilie’s compound, but don’t rush, and tell them that you have an important message for the King himself. I doubt that you’ll be able to personally meet with the King, but get as far up his chain of command as you can before revealing that my father has died.”

  Zhai nodded, but continued to wait as Wu then addressed Liu.

  “Liu, I want you to personally meet with Marquis Jing. He was probably the closest ally, and the most resembling a true friend, that my father had among the rulers. Tell him personally of my father’s death”

  Liu nodded and lowered his head, quietly happy that Wu was already proving up to the task that now confronted him.

  “Wei,” Wu continued, addressing Liu’s apprentice who was a few steps back from the other two men, “to you I leave perhaps the most important task of all.”

  Wei stepped forward and bowed his head before meeting Wu’s eyes, quietly surprised that he was to be given any task at all.

  “You are to take a chariot to Anyi immediately. We cannot trust news as grave as this to a bird. Stop only to secure new horses, riding all day and all night if that’s what it takes to reach the capital.”

  Wei nodded; his mind already racing with what he would say when he reached the city.

  “Now go,” Wu said forcefully.

  The three men gave a slight bow and then turned to leave, Wei running south toward the palace entrance, Zhai and Liu taking a slower walk, neither in a rush to perform their grim tasks. Wu watched them go before once again kneeling down in front of his father’s body.

  “Thank you for waiting for peace before going to Shangdi,” Wu said quietly as he looked into his father’s eyes. “I never could have done that myself.” He looked down at the ground for a few moments before continuing. “Know that I will honor the pledge that you made last night, and which I will affix my seal to.” He suddenly reached out and grasped Wen’s lifeless arm. “But please father, watch over me and lend me your strength. While I’ve always known that I’d one day have to follow in your footsteps, it was never a thought that I relished. Now that it’s upon me I find the weight of it already more than I can handle. Please help me, father.”

  Wen’s lifeless eyes stared past him unseeing, but after a few moments a faint ray of sunlight broke through the willow tree’s branches and shone down upon them. Wu smiled, knowing that his father was with him. He sat down on the ground and leaned up against the tree next to him. He knew that he only had a brief time before the whole palace learned of the death of one of the strongest rulers of the Seven States, so he stared at the canal and waited.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The ceremony to sign the peace agreement took place under the tree where Marquis Wen had died. The seven rulers were decked out in their finest robes for the occasion, King Weilie looking especially resplendent in his dark purple robes accented with a special material that seemed to shimmer with each movement he made. A long table had been set up under the weeping willow tree and upon it King Weilie and Prince An had laid out the eight scrolls that were to be signed.

  The men were particularly quiet, although the gardens around them were full of sounds. Birds sang, insects chirped, and the water from the nearby fountains could be heard gurgling. It was a beautiful day, and one that each man took as a sign that the peace they were about to officially bring into being was indeed called for.

  “Gentlemen,” King Weilie called out, “we are ready.”

  The men shuffled closer to the long table and waited for further instruction. The only men present in the garden were the seven rulers and their heirs, along with King Weilie and Prince An. No retainers or servants had been allowed to attend the ceremony, not even to carry in the eight scrolls. The one exception was made in regard to Wu, now Marquis Wu of Wei, and the only man present without his heir besides Duke Kang. As a show of good faith he’d been allowed to select one man from his small entourage to accompany him to the signing ceremony and he’d chosen Zhai Huang, who now stood silently by his side.

  “We will sign according to the brushstrokes of each State,” King Weilie said, referring to the amount of brushstrokes required to write each State’s name. “That means that Qi will go first.”

  King Weilie nodded toward Duke Kang, who stepped forward and took the brush that was sticking out from a small ink pot on the table. It was strange, Wu thought as he watched Kang move down the table, writing his name on each of the eight scrolls as he went, that the man that’d argued the most vehemently against the peace agreement was the first to sign it. He raised his eyebrows, shrugging away the thought, and watched as Kang returned the brush to the ink pot, all eight scrolls signed. He looked at each of the men still waiting with a blank expression on his face, then went back to stand away from the other men, for he was the only ruler present without an heir or servant.

  “Yan,” King Weilie said, nodding toward Duke Bei.

  Duke Bei returned the nod and made his way forward to the table where he picked up the brush and proceeded to move down the table, affixing his name to each of the eight scrolls as he went and returning it after he’d finished. He gave a smile to the other men as he turned back to them and went to stand next to his son.

  King Weilie called out each state in their proper order, Zhao, Han, and Qin coming next in line. Each man silently walked to the table, signed his name, and then silently walked back to stand next to his heir. The occasion was solemn, for there was both a feeling of respect for the magnitude of what each of the men was agreeing to, but also a feeling of loss, for it’d been just the day before that word had broken of Marquis Wen of Wei’s death.

  The news had spread quickly once Zhai had told the palace guards of his urgent need to see King Weilie. The highest official they’d allowed him to see was the personal servant of the King, Tan Zhou, the same man that had greeted them upon their arrival from the Wei-Qi border the week before. That seemed like a lifetime ago, Wu thought to himself as he stood watching the men sign their names to the scrolls, his mind trying to picture what the expression on King Weilie’s servant’s face must have been when Zhai told him the news. Of course he’d summoned the King at once, and Zhai had told him personally, but by then the news had already begun spreading through the palace.

  Wu had been thankful that Zhai had taken his time and not rushed when delivering the news to King Weile, for that had given Liu time to tell Marquis Jing first. It was for that reason why Marquis Jing and Liu had been the first to appear at Wu’s side as he sat waiting next to his dead father, and not a large contingent of gawking palace servants. Marquis Jing had knelt down beside Wu, taken his hand, and offered his sincerest apologies for his loss. Wu had nodded, thanked him, and, strangely now, he thought, asked Jing if there was anything he could do for him. Marquis Jing had shaken his head, stared at Wen for a few moments, then rose and silently walked back to his own compound.

  A few minutes after that the full force of the palace seemed to appear, for dozens of men converged upon them. Wu immediately became defensive, standing over his father’s body threateningly, before King Weile himself appeared and assured them that the body would be handled with the respect deserving of such a great man, and that it would be made ready for travel back to Anyi, which is what he rightly assumed Wu would want. Wu had nodded his thanks and reluctantly allowed several of the servants to pick up his father’s body and carry it toward the southern entrance of the palace grounds. An hour later he’d been taken to the front gates of the palace and shown by Prince An to a small building that housed his father’s body, now enwrapped in burial shrouds. Wu had nodded, pleased, then was shown the special chariot that would carry the body. The vehicle was larger than most, with a special platform constructed above the carriage what would allow the body to be laid lengthwise just behind the driver. Wu knew immediately upon looking at the chariot that he would drive it himself.

  After that things became a blur. The rest of the day the entire palace was busy preparing
an elaborate feast in honor of Marquis Wen. Wu had been visited by the other rulers at intervals throughout the afternoon, each offering his condolences and asking if there was anything they could do to help him. Wu had shaken his head appreciatively to each of them, assuring them that he would be fine. The only man that hadn’t come to see him had been Duke Kang, a visit that would have surprised him more than his absence, which he’d expected.

  It had been agreed by all in the palace, and confirmed by the official palace physicians, that Marquis Wen had indeed died from natural causes. Wu had accepted their opinion, and dismissed any lingering doubts about his father’s death, or who may have been involved in it. Surprisingly, Wu later realized, he’d actually felt sorry for Duke Kang when he’d not appeared to pay his respects. While Wen had lost his father, he still had loyal men around him. Kang had no one, and Wu didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d soon be without a state as well.

  Strangely, and with a fair amount of guilt, Wu had wondered as the day wore on if Tai Tian’s son would put away whatever thoughts of vengeance he had toward Wei now that Marquis Wen was dead. He’d tried to shake away the thoughts, but they kept returning to him unbidden. Finally he’d eased his worried mind by saying it didn’t really matter what House Tian did, for they were in truth Duke Kang’s problem and not his own.

  The feast that had been laid out amid the palace gardens near the four largest fountains was immense. All of the rulers’ servants and retainers were allowed to attend, although the two center tables were reserved especially for the seven rulers and their heirs as well as the king and prince. The night had become a blur as Wu ate little and drank less, listening with polite detachment as each man told story after story of the times they’d spent with Marquis Wen and then the stories they’d only heard about. By the end of the evening such farcical exploits as helping to subdue the Rong Tribes in the east and pulling the lever to drown Jinyang were being attributed to the fallen ruler, and Wu knew his father would have been sick. Still, he said nothing, letting each man honor his father in the way they thought best. The only incident of the evening, if it could even have been called that, came when Duke Kang rose to speak of the recent overthrow of Zhongshan. He’d tried to make the death of Duke Wu sound honorable, and one that Wen had in fact orchestrated, telling his grandson beforehand to ride down the impetuous duke if his general wasn’t able to. Several men around the tables grumbled their disapproval, but it wasn’t until Wu himself rose and pointed an angry finger at Kang and called him a liar that the man stopped and resumed his seat. It was the only time during the hours-long feast that Wu had spoken.

  Zhai nudged Wu on the arm and Wu snapped out of his reverie. He looked at Zhai, who nodded up at King Weilie. Wu turned his eyes in that direction and saw that the King was beckoning him to come forward, for it was his turn to sign the scrolls. Wu smiled slightly, nodded, and came forward. King Weilie gave a slight nod to him as he passed and went to the table. He felt his hand begin to tremble but he took a deep breath to control himself, and reached out slowly, taking the brush in a measured hand. He went to the first scroll and scanned the wording. It was quite simple, only a few lines proclaiming that the signers below had agreed to peace between themselves for their lives, and the life of their heir. It then proceeded to list those names, the five states that had already signed listed down the page, the dark brushstrokes of the men still wet from where they’d signed next to their name and their state’s. Wu scanned down until he came to Wei, and there saw that the name he’d expected to see, ‘Marquis Wen,’ was not there. Instead his own name and title, ‘Marquis Wu,’ stared back at him. It looked alien and out of place, Wu thought as he looked down at it and then at the other names present on the scrolls. He didn’t feel that he belonged in such august company. Yet there it was, and in his hand he held the same brush that five other men had already held. Like it or not, he did belong.

  With a deep breath he put the brush to the scroll and with a few quick strokes signed his name. The wet ink shined as he stared down at it, and for the first time he felt the full impact of the agreement he’d just made with the men standing behind him, and agreement not just between them and himself, but between his own son Hui and their son’s or grandsons. Wu shook off the sudden anxiety at the implications of that and moved down the table to the next scroll and then the next, signing his name to each, until he was at the eighth and final one, which he signed the same as the others before returning the brush to the inkpot and then making his way back to stand next to Zhai.

  Duke Dao of Chu was the last ruler of the Seven States to sign his name, and then King Weilie took up the brush and signed at the bottom of each scroll. When he’d finished he turned back to the men.

  “I invite each of you to stay in the palace for as long as you like,” he said slowly, looking at each of the men, “but I’ll also understand if many of you,” he looked specifically at Wu, “wish to get back home as soon as possible.” He waved his arm behind him, gesturing toward the eight signed scrolls. “Each of you will be presented with a copy of the peace agreement when you leave the palace.”

  With that he nodded again at each of them and then looked at his son. Prince An took his arm and they slowly walked past the men and onto the stone pathway that would lead them back to their residence. The other men glanced at one another for several moments before each of them in turn headed toward the pathways that would lead them back to their own compound. Wu and Zhai were two of the last to leave, but instead of heading to the stone pathway Wu directed them toward the canal in the distance.

  “This is a very significant day in the history of the Seven States,” Zhai said as they walked.

  “I just wish that my father could have been here to see it,” Wu replied.

  “I’m sure that he was,” Zhai replied with a knowing glance.

  Wu nodded and they continued on in silence until they reached the canal. The lazy waters flowed gently by them, their calm surface occasionally marred by an insect landing or a fish jumping. Wu placed his forearms on the small fence that separated the gardens from the canal and leaned forward, folding his hands together. Zhai remained standing next to him, ready for whatever his new ruler might say.

  “Now that my father is dead and I’m ruler of Wei,” Wu began after a minute had passed in silence, “some changes will need to be made.”

  Zhai nodded, even though Wu kept his gaze locked on the canal.

  “And what changes would you like?”

  “My son Hui will no longer work under Ximen Bao on the Great Canal,” Wu said. “He is the next in line for the throne of Wei, and his place is at the palace in Anyi, learning all he can of statecraft, not toiling in the mud all day.”

  “Ximen will not be happy. He knew your father was quite adamant that Hui get discipline – discipline that could only be learned through hard work.”

  “That was before the events of yesterday,” Wu said. “Ximen will understand.”

  Zhai nodded again, not wanting to press the point at this time. “Anything else that you feel needs to change, Sire?”

  “I want Wu Qi to be sent back to Anyi,” Wu said. “While he did Wei a great service by taking the Xihe areas from Qin, I don’t want him to govern those lands.”

  Zhai was truly taken aback by the request. “But Sire, Wu Qi is the best man for the job! No one knows that area like him. He would-”

  Zhai stopped suddenly as Wu spun about to face him.

  “There are many men capable of governing that land!” he said angrily. “Wu Qi’s service to Wei is at an end, as far as I’m concerned. He can either come back to Anyi to train new soldiers or he can retire, the choice is his.”

  Zhai was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe that Wu would just dismiss the most capable general, and one of the most able administrators, that Wei had had in generations. It took him a moment to realize that Wu was staring at him, waiting for a response. He swallowed the knot in his throat and answered as best he could.


  “As you wish, Sire,” he mumbled.

  “Good,” Wu said, turning back to face the canal. “That is all for now, but I want you to be the first to know, Zhai, that my reign will not be the same as my father’s.”

  Zhai could already see that, but he said nothing. Marquis Wen had made the State of Wei great, taking it from its humble beginnings as a small upstart state that had only been a family clan a generation before, and turning it into one of the most powerful of all the Seven States. Now his son wanted to change that. Whatever for? Zhai thought to himself.

  “But your father was one of the most loved and respected rulers in all of the Seven States,” Zhai said, “why wouldn’t you want to be like him?”

  Wu turned to him, his face grim.

  “Because despite the agreement that was signed today it’s clear that war is on the horizon. One day the smaller states will be gone, and even Duke Kang may come at us before then. I have to be ready for this fact, a fact my father could never accept.”

  Wen’s worries about his son now seemed quite prophetic and came back to Zhai as he stood next to Wu and stared at the canal. Already in the space of a few minutes Wu had made, in Zhai’s opinion, two grave errors of judgment. What further errors would come he wondered, and would the State of Wei be able to weather them?

  A fish jumped in the canal, sending ripples radiating outward to disturb the calm surface.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A knock came at the door, but Liu ignored it. A moment later a second knock came, more loudly than the first. Liu ignored it, too. A few moments later he heard the door open.

  “We’re ready to leave,” a voice came from the doorway, a voice Liu recognized as Zhai Huang’s.