The Warring States, Books 1-3

by Greg Strandberg

  A woman quickly scurried over to their table with another flagon, offered a few quick apologies, and darted away as fast as she could, although not fast enough to escape the groping hands of the heir of Wei on her bottom. Pang reached over and filled Hui’s cup and then his own before replacing the still-brimming flagon on the table.

  “You can say one thing for Lu,” Hui said as he took another deep drink of his wine, “they do have good women.”

  Pang knew that Hui must be getting drunk if he was feeling particularly enamored with the woman that just scurried away. Although not quite old enough to be Hui’s mother, she was close, and her oversized teeth and undersized eyes didn’t help.

  They were sitting in an empty tavern a few streets away from the main city gate that had been thrown open for the retreating Lu Army earlier that morning. It had been a simple thing to follow the fleeing soldiers into the city, where the attacks were still going on sporadically, although the raping and looting and burning were now the Wei soldiers’ main occupation.

  “I couldn’t be unhappier,” Hui said as he finished off yet another cup of wine and reached for the flagon. “Lu gave us none of the fight that Song and Zheng did. We fought one battle when we entered the state, and that battle was such a route that they didn’t dare face us again until today.”

  “And today wasn’t much better,” Pang said.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Hui finished filling his cup and took another healthy swallow. “And now there’s no one left and nothing for the two of us to do.”

  “Well, there might not be much for you to do, but I’ll have plenty to do training new troops once we get back to Anyi.”

  “Really, Pang, is that what you want to spend your time doing? Training new troops?”

  “Not particularly, Sire, but I’m an army man and that’s what’s required of me.”

  Hui groaned and took another drink.

  “Your father will be expecting you back in Anyi now that the fighting’s done,” Pang said after a few moments of silence had passed.

  Hui groaned and lowered his head to the table before raising it again with a shake. “Every month I receive a message from him with suggestions on how to fight the enemy, and every month I crumple them up and throw them as far as I can.” Hui scoffed and shook his head. “What does he know about leading an army? He’s never once been in the thick of a battle, never once even watched one from afar.”

  Pang swirled the wine around in his cup. He knew that Marquis Wu had personally been present at Zhongshan when the city was flooded, and had also led men when hostilities between Wei and Chu had broken. That had been more than twenty years before, true, but Wei wasn’t giving his father much credit; after all, the man had served with General Wu Qi during that time.

  “If we mean to go against more powerful foes, then we’ll require his permission, Pang said finally.”

  Hui’s brows knitted as he studied Pang. “That is the second time today you’ve spoken of moving against one of the other Seven States. You do realize that there is a peace agreement that precludes anyone of us from attacking another, don’t you? Do you realize what would happen to the first state to violate that agreement? They would be set upon by all of the other Seven States and destroyed, their territory parceled out to the others.”

  “Perhaps,” Pang said, “and perhaps not.”

  Hui narrowed his eyes and stared at Pang over his cup. “Go on, I’m listening.”

  “Over the past five years nearly all of the remaining small states have been conquered and incorporated into the Seven. Chu ended the threat from Yue many years ago, nearly doubling its area. For the past fifteen years they’ve had no one to attack, something that must be grinding away on the nerves of that new army that General Wu Qi trained for them.”

  “One of my father’s greatest mistakes, sending that man away,” Hui said with a shake of his head and another drink.

  “Yes, why did he ever do that?” Pang asked.

  Hui shook his head and reached for the flagon. “I’m not wholly certain, but I think it was over a woman.”

  “A woman?” Pang asked incredulously.

  “Some Cao whore is all I know,” Hui said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Pang didn’t press him on the matter, but he was intrigued nonetheless. Perhaps when he got back to Anyi he’d have to inquire further about his mysterious ‘Cao whore.’

  “Han has had no one to attack in years while Zhao has been in a similar situation,” he said a moment later, “although they’ve been kept occupied by the barbarians to their north.”

  “Not too occupied to begin preparations against Wey, that is what you said earlier today, isn’t it?”

  “They’ll attack sometime in the next few months, perhaps sooner.”

  Hui nodded. “So that leaves Qi and Yan.”

  “Yan is even more pressed by the northern barbarians than Zhao; they’ll not be a threat to anyone for some time, and I don’t think anyone wants their land, what with the threats they’re constantly dealing with.”

  “So that leaves the great question as to what Qi is up to,” Hui said as he filled his and Pang’s cups once again.

  “Yes, that’s the question.”

  “There’s no question at all,” Hui said with a laugh. “Qi will attack no one, just as the rest of the Seven will attack no one. Once Zhao dispatches Wey all of us will be playing the waiting game to see who moves against one of the other Seven first. If we wait long enough then all of the rulers bound by the peace agreement will die and that sanction will be lifted.” Hui lowered his voice and leaned in toward Pan. “But not the unspoken and unwritten sanction that ensures the first to move will be pounced upon by all the rest.”

  “Let’s look at the rules,” Pang said. “Each ruler who signed the agreement in Luoyang twenty years ago is bound to it, as is his son and heir.”

  Pang looked to Hui for confirmation that he was right, and with a nod continued.

  “Duke Fei of Qi is not held by the agreement, but neither was his father Duke Tai of Tian. Marquis Jing of Han died a few months after the agreement was signed, and his son passed on just a few years ago. Marquis Wen of Han is not held by the agreement.”

  “That’s two states,” Hui said, “five still remain.”

  “Marquis Bei of Yan is still alive and doing well from what I hear,” Pang continued, “and his son will no doubt rule for some time after he’s finally gone.”

  “I think that we can safely say that Yan won’t be a factor in anything that occurs among the other Seven States,” Hui said. “That leaves us with four.”

  “Marquis Su must just be dying to try out his new army on a worthy opponent,” Pang said. “It’s been fifteen years since he took power; even though he’s bound by the agreement that his father signed I’m sure he’d be one of the first to break it given the chance.”

  “Could Wei enter into a pact with Chu?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’d be good to do so before another state beats us to it.

  ”If someone hasn’t already,” Hui said, and Pang nodded.

  “Qin should worry no one,” Hui said. “They are so far to the west of the other Seven, and their state is in such backward condition that they’re even less of a threat than Yan.”

  “There’s been talk that changes have been going in inside Qin, changes that they’ve kept from the outside world over these many years.”

  Hui shook his head. “It would take some serious changes over a much greater amount of time than just a few years for Qin to be more than an afterthought.”

  Pang nodded. “So we’re left with Zhao, then. Marquis Lie died unexpectedly a few years ago, leaving his son Jing to assume control of the state.”

  “I don’t know much about this man Jing,” Hui said. “Is he an able commander or one to hide behind his palace walls?”

  “He’s led men into battle and plans to do so again against Wey,” Pang said.

  Hui nodded and stared into
his cup.

  “There is one state left,” Pang said quietly. “Wei.”

  Hui laughed. “I think I know enough about Wei to not be concerned.”

  “Your father is getting on in years, Hui. How much longer do you think he has?”

  Hui jumped up from his chair and reached across the table to grab hold of Pang’s robes, spilling their wine in the process. He pulled Pang’s face close to his and scowled down at him.

  “Be careful what you say, Pang,” Hui said through gritted teeth. “You are walking a fine line between friend and foe.”

  “I’m merely pointing out a fact, nothing more,” Pang said coolly, seemingly not at all concerned by his friend’s actions.

  Hui scowled at Pang for a moment longer before tossing him back toward the bench he’d been sitting on. Pang fell back and tumbled to the floor. He looked up to see Hui grab the flagon of wine and one of the upturned cups before striding with them toward the door.

  It wasn’t until he was gone that Pang picked himself up, brushing at the wet spots on his robes from the spilled wine. The serving woman made to come over but Pang held up a hand and she scurried back out of sight. Pang straightened the bench he’d been sitting on and sat back down. He’d seen Hui act in such a way before with other men, but he’d never done so to Pang. It was the drink mainly that had caused Hui to lash out, though the realization that there was no one else for them to fight and that he would now soon have to go back to Anyi to face his father was also a factor.

  Why Hui would have become so upset at the mention of his father’s age was something that Pang couldn’t understand, however. It was not like Hui loved the man; he’d said on numerous occasions how much he in fact hated him. No, something else was grating on Hui’s nerves, but Pang for the life of him couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Pang had heeded Marquis Wu’s call for talented men and journeyed to Wei more than ten years before. He’d impressed the Marquis’ son Hui with his ideas on conquering the few remaining small states surrounding Wei, and was given a command position in the army, quickly moving up to the rank of general. During those first few campaigns he and Hui had become fast friends, their reckless natures and disregard for authority complementing one another nicely. They’d often spent their nights together over cups of wine talking about what would happen when all the small states were no more and only the Seven remained. It had been easy to speak of how they’d move against the others then, when the notion was still far off and relegated to the realm of talk. But now that it was upon them Pang realized that it was much more of an undertaking than either had previously imagined. And now he and Hui would be separated from one another for the first time in ten years, for surely Pang would eventually be tasked with overseeing Lu so as to ensure the incorporation of the state into Wei went smoothly. Hui would journey back to Anyi to face his father and whatever tasks the Marquis had for his son now that there were no more minor foes for him to face.

  Pang rose from the table and walked toward the door, flipping a few bu to the serving woman who did her best to shy away from him. She reached eagerly for the bronze coins as they clattered on the floor, however, and even offered Pang a toothless smile as he left.

  Outside the air was full of smoke and the horizon was a dark orange all along the city walls as Pang made his way to the gate and back out to the army’s camp. The city would burn for most of the night, the officers allowing the men to let of some steam through rape and pillage. In the morning, as the men nursed their hangovers, the real work would begin and order would once again be restored. It was not the best way to usher a city into the fold, but that was the way of war. The people may not love their conquerors, but they would fear them, and fear, Pang had learned long ago, was much better than love.

  SEVEN

  Hui drove his knuckles into his eyes in an attempt to ease the pounding behind his eyes. Just like the countless other times that morning, it did little good. Hui resigned himself to feeling bad all day, something he was quite used to and had become quite adept at dealing with, and reached for another pile of papers on the small desk set up in his large command tent. He glanced at the top sheet and the one under it; both were about the Lu Army’s makeup, and both were now useless. The Lu Army was no more, as the State of Lu was no more. From now on it would be part of Wei, perhaps referred to as Lu for administrative purposes and ease of reference, but for all intents and purposes the small state that had been founded five hundred years before was no more.

  Hui crumpled the papers and threw them in a corner of the tent and stared annoyingly at the other stacks still sitting on the table. Perhaps it would be best to leave them all for his subordinates to deal with, he thought. But then what would there be for him to do? He was trying to forestall his journey back to Anyi for as long as possible, and the stacks of paper were one of the few excuses he had left.

  Light suddenly shone onto the table as the tent flap was thrown open behind him. Hui spun around to see one of his officers standing in the entryway.

  “Sire, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a man out here that urgently requests an audience with you.”

  Hui folded his arms in front of him and stared daggers at the man. “I’m leaving soon; anything that has to do with Lu should be handled by Pang or one of his men.”

  “I’m sorry, Sire, but this man is not here to discuss Lu.”

  “Then what does he want?”

  “He will only discuss that with you, Sire.”

  Hui’s ire was growing and his headache getting worse. He was in no mood to argue or suffer fools this morning, but neither was he up for a fight. Reluctantly he eased down into the chair behind the desk and waved at his officer.

  “Send him in.”

  The officer nodded, ducked out of the tent for a moment, and then quickly reappeared, holding the flap open as a man walked in.

  “What is it you wish to see me about?” Hui asked impatiently before the man had even fully entered the tent.

  The man stared at Hui and waited until the tent flap closed behind him before speaking.

  “I’ve come on behalf of the small State of Wey,” the man said. “We request the assistance of Wei in holding off the imminent attacks from Zhao.”

  Hui’s brows knitted as he studied the man. His long black hair was tied in a small top-knot and allowed to flow freely down his back. His beard and mustache were long but well-trimmed. What Hui noticed most of all, however, were the man’s eyes. They were deep and penetrating and seemed to bore into him more than the headache that was boring into his skull. While the man’s hair might have been well-maintained, his clothes were not. The light brown robes he wore were covered in dust which turned to dry and caked mud the closer it got to his feet. The man had obviously been on the road and hadn’t bothered to change into something more suitable for his meeting with the heir of Wei. Either he wasn’t concerned about his appearance or he expected to be back on the road and riding west to Wey in short order.

  “Why would Wei help Wey in holding off Zhao?” Hui asked as he stroked the one long strand of his mustache and stared up at the man. “Wouldn’t you think that if Zhao was not about to invade, then Wei would?”

  The man folded his arms behind his back and widened his stance, a typical military pose when addressing a superior officer. “That is irrelevant, for Zhao is about to invade.”

  Hui scoffed. The man was educated, that was obvious, but he also had an independent streak to him. Despite himself, Hui was intrigued.

  “What’s your name?” Hui asked as he leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on the table before him, cupping his chin into his hands.

  “Sun Bin.”

  “Sun Bin,” Hui repeated. He looked off to the side in thought for a moment before meeting the man’s eyes once again. “I’m not familiar with your family.”

  “That’s probably because I have none, sir.”

  Hui’s eyes narrowed. “You hold a high position within the Wey Army?”
<
br />   “No, I’m not a member of the Wey Army.”

  Hui leaned back in his chair once again. “Not a member of the army? Then what are you doing here on Duke Zhuang’s behalf?”

  “I’m neither here on Duke Zhuang’s behalf or on behalf of his army,” Sun said. He adjusted his stance, looking down at the floor of the tent for a moment, then returned his gaze to Hui. “If truth be told, I’m here on behalf of your father, Marquis Wu, and the State of Wei, although I’ve never met your father or had any correspondence with him.”

  That was too much for Hui. He shook his head and stood up from the table. “You are making no sense. It sounds to me that you are some noble from Wey that’s trying to pull Wei into a fight with Zhao in an attempt to save your state. I can tell you right now that will not happen.”

  Hui’s headache seemed to get worse and he fought the urge to rub his eyes. The man was staring at him and something in the look he had on his face, one of haughty superiority well-cloaked, caused Hui’s anger to boil up to the surface. When it was obvious that the man was not going to offer any reply to Hui’s rebuttal he spoke again.

  “Judging from your appearance you’ve been riding some time. You needn’t bother changing; this meeting is through, you can be on your way back to Wey.”

  The tent flap flew open and a bright beam of sunlight appeared, momentarily blinding Hui and making his headache all the more noticeable. He moved his hand up to shield his eyes and was about to reprimand the impudent officer for interrupting in such a brazen fashion when he heard Pang’s voice call out in surprise.

  “Sun?”

  Hui moved his hand away from his eyes as the tent flap again fell closed and watched as Pang moved closer to the man standing before the table.

  “Is that really you, Sun?”

  “It’s been some time, but your eyes do not deceive you,” the man replied.

  “Sun Bin!” Pang moved forward and embraced Sun, clasping his hands onto both of Sun’s shoulders and holding him at arm’s length as he looked him up and down. Hui couldn’t see, but he suspected that Sun had a half-smile on his face, one more of willing impatience than joy or humor.