The Warring States, Books 1-3

by Greg Strandberg

  “And what about Chu? Are you in contact with King Su as well? Where does he fit into your plan?”

  “I’ve had no contact with King Su, but I mean to try here shortly. His move against Wei last month came as a surprise to everyone and there’s no telling what he’d do if another attack came.”

  “I’m sure that he wouldn’t hesitate a second before rushing north with his troops to carve off just as big a piece of Wei as he can manage.”

  “That’s my fear,” Jing admitted, “and the reason I’ll request an audience with him soon.”

  “You don’t mean to tell him the plan between you and I and Han, do you? He’ll want to be a part of it, and do we really want Wei divided four ways? Already with the lands that’ve been taken by you and Chu there’s really not as great an area as there once was.”

  “I’ll take care of King Su, don’t you worry,” Jing said.

  “And Duke Fei of Qi and his son? What of them?”

  Jing shook his head. “Duke Fei will be dead before the year is up; his son is already calling himself King Wei of Qi. I’ll call a meeting with them as well and make it clear that this is a fight between The Three Jins and that the other states are to stay out of it.”

  Xian laughed. “That is easier said than done. Once the smell of blood is in the air it’s impossible to keep the wolves at bay.”

  “Why worry, Xian? They’re no threat to you whatever they do. It’s Zhao that’s bordered by Qi and Han that is bordered by Chu. If either of those states decide to join in the fight they’ll have to move against us before they could ever possibly move against you.”

  “You know that this is just the first stage in a long conflict,” Xian said, his eyes narrowing, “a conflict that will last well past our own lifetimes and perhaps even those of our children.”

  Jing nodded. “I do. But that shouldn’t preclude some of us from working together now, even if we become enemies in the future.”

  Xian stared at Jing for several moments before setting his cup back on the table and rising to his feet, Jing immediately following him up.

  “I will go along with your plan, these first two parts that you’ve mentioned here today, at least,” Xian said as he put his arm around Jing’s shoulders and turned him toward the doors. “I’ll order the invasion of Wei within the month, but you must be ready for it; I’ll not send a message off telling you when the attack will be, or where.”

  “I understand,” Jing said.

  “I want it made clear to your troops, as I will make it clear to mine, that there is to be no real fighting between Qin and Zhao and that when our two forces come into contact we will go back across our border, as you are to do as well.”

  “Many of my troops will no doubt have to stay in Wei a bit longer, but I’m sure Hui will want them sent back north as soon as possible.”

  Xian nodded. “Now, as to the winter months. I want to be kept informed as to your meetings with Hui as well as those of the other states. We’ll most likely have to have another meeting ourselves before spring to plan out exactly what the combined attacks against Wei will be like.”

  “It will be as you say,” Jing said as they reached the doors.

  Xian stepped away so that they were both standing across from one another. “And after it’s all said and done and Wei is no more, then what?”

  “Anything could happen between now and then and it would be presumptuous to plan too far ahead.”

  Xian nodded. “Then you have my commitment to your plan, Marquis Jing.” He extended his hand out, his eyes locked on Jing’s.

  Jing clasped Xian’s forearm and held his gaze. “It’s a deal,” he said as the two men held one another’s arms for a moment longer before breaking the embrace.

  Xian pulled one of the double doors to his personal chambers open for Jing and held an arm up to motion him out. “My attendants will show you out of the palace and provide you an escort out of the city,” he said with a smile.

  Jing nodded. “Until spring, then.”

  “Until spring.”

  TWENTY

  After Jing had stepped out into the hallway Xian pulled the door closed behind him. He walked back to the small table with two chairs and sat down, picking up his still-hot cup of tea and taking a sip.

  “Well, what do you think?” he said loudly.

  A portion of the large bookshelf along the wall swung out and from behind it stepped Shang Yang.

  “I think that we’ve entered into a deal that’ll show the other Seven States the might of Qin while allowing us to increase our territory,” Shang said as he pushed the bookcase closed and turned toward Xian. “Most importantly there’s a firm end to the deal, one that allows us to walk away with no future commitments to anyone. You did well, Sire.”

  “Do you trust him?” Xian asked as he moved back to his chair. “Do you think that he’ll uphold his part of the bargain and not attack me for real when I invade Wei? Or do you think that he has this all planned out with Marquis Hui already, both eager to pounce upon me when I show up on their borders?”

  Shang moved to the chair vacated by Jing and sat down. “There’s no way to tell for sure, Sire, but I don’t think Jing will betray you in this, not now at least.”

  “Not now,” Xian chortled, “well, that makes me feel real secure.”

  “The way things are going in the Seven States these days there is no way to be sure what will happen in the future. For now at least I think that our move into Wei will go as planned just now between you and Jing.”

  Xian narrowed his eyes at Shang. He’d known the man well enough now to know there was something else hiding behind those piercing eyes, some ulterior plan that he was just now hatching with the news he’d heard.

  “Come now, Shang,” Xian said after a few moments. “I know that your mind is awhirl with all that you’ve just heard. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Shang leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He stroked his long beard, nearly all gray now with just a trace of black near the face, and stared at the table. Finally after a few moments he looked up at Xian.

  “Marquis Jing wants us to invade Wei, but he didn’t say where he wants that invasion to take place, and he gave us no indication as to how great an extent that invasion should be.”

  “I assume he means for us to enter Wei closer to his northern borders so that it’ll be easier for his troops to reach us before Marquis Hui’s do.”

  Shang raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I suppose that’s a possibility, maybe even the possibility that he was thinking. But you see, Sire,” Shang continued as he leaned forward, “we can’t be sure because he did not say for sure. As far as we know we can invade Wei anywhere, and with as large or as small of a force as we deem necessary.” He paused for a moment, drawing Xian’s undivided attention to him. “The possibilities in such a scenario are immense, Sire.”

  “What do you propose, Shang? You’re not a military man – I leave that up to others more qualified than you.”

  Shang nodded. “As you should, Sire, but that doesn’t mean that I am completely blind to military possibilities, especially when they present themselves.” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Marquis Jing mentioned how those in Wei view Qin as backward and not a threat to anyone. Now is our time to let everyone in the Seven States see how powerful Qin has become. I propose that we invade Wei with the majority of our forces and with the full intention of conquering it. We push as far into the country as we can and take up as much of their area as we can. Marquis Jing spoke of dividing up the land equally once Wei is finished for good, but he said nothing about taking a few pieces before hand, as both he and Marquis Wen have already done.” Shang’s eyes narrowed as he peered at Xian. “Now is our opportunity, Sire, for us to take the Hexi Corridor back from Wei after nearly twenty years.”

  Xian stared at Shang in silence for several moments and then slowly began to nod his head. “I like it, Shang. My great-gr
andfather was incensed when Hexi was taken, although I don’t know if he was angered more by the fact that Wei had taken it or that he was powerless to do anything about it.”

  Shang shook his head. “Powerless, no. Marquis Jian put up a five-year fight against General Wu Qi, one of the greatest generals the Seven States has ever seen. That is something that most states can’t claim.”

  Xian smiled. “Thank you, Shang, for those kind words.” He reached for his cup of tea and took another sip. “It would be nice to have the Hexi Corridor back under our control. The area is the major route for trade caravans heading west, and the taxes they now pay to Wei will do much to fill our own treasury.”

  “And the prestige that Qin will gain in the eyes of the other Seven States will be more valuable by far, Sire.”

  Xian finished the last of his tea and put the cup back on the table. “Hexi lies on Wei’s western border; it won’t be difficult to take.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Shang and stroked his beard.

  “But will it be enough?”

  “To anger and humiliate Wei, yes; to make the other Seven stand up and take notice of how far we’ve come, perhaps not. It will be much easier to take and hold Hexi if our army runs right through it, pushing further east toward the smaller State of Wey that played such a leading role in all the recent turmoil. We can hold a portion of our forces in reserve to go in and firmly occupy the area while Wei is rushing toward our advancing army.”

  Xian laughed. “Why not just invade the capital while we’re at it?”

  “Why not?” Shang said, his piercing eyes boring into Xian and not betraying a hint of humor.

  “I’m joking, Shang,” Xian laughed, although there was nervousness mixed in with the mirth. “We could never take Anyi.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Sire.” Shang rubbed and tugged at his beard as he stared at the ceiling once again. “Our forces have become quite strong over the past few years, their training having been excellent. I wouldn’t underestimate what they can do.”

  Xian shook his head. “No, Shang.” He rose from his chair and turned toward the door. “And before this conversation goes any further I think it would be best if we have a true military opinion on the matter, perhaps a few.”

  Shang groaned. He knew where this was going. Whenever the Marquis got it into his head to have a council on matters of the military at least four or five generals would have to be called up from wherever they were in the state to rush to the capital. It was looking more and more likely that whatever ideas Shang might have had for the invasion of Wei would not be discussed again for a week at the least.”

  “Jing Jian is in the capital, fresh from some actions against the Rong Tribes in the north,” Xian said as he reached the door. “We’ll call him forth to advise us on the matter.”

  Shang cocked his head at the mention of Jing while Xian stuck his head out f the door to converse with the nearby guards. Jing Jian had been the man most responsible for Shang Yang’s current lot in life. It had been him that had discovered Liu Kui’s book on philosophy, the book that had been the basis of the changes that Qin had implemented over the past fifteen years. Jing had tracked him down while he was still a wandering scribe named Wei Yang and had followed him to where he’d hidden the book, for it was much to valuable to carry at all times where it’d be vulnerable to theft. Jing had then confronted Shang about it after a particularly nasty fight in the common room of an inn involving Shang and several Confucians. It was he that had brought Shang to meet with Marquis Xian, the still-young ruler of the weakest of the Seven States, and whose talks over three days and nights had eventually persuaded Shang to help Qin.

  That had been fifteen years ago and Shang hadn’t seen Jing since, although he’d heard of his exploits quite frequently over that time. Jing had been a leading general in the invasions of the twin states of Shu and Ba to the south, and while it was true that there were still many difficulties in both states, Shu in particular, those problems could not be laid at the feet of the military, all of whom had done an exceptional job of conquering the two states quickly and with few casualties on either side. Since then Jing had been the leading general fighting against the Rong Tribes to the north, a fight which had been going on for centuries as the northern barbarians refused to be cowed and to bow down to anyone. Lately Jing’s troops had been more carpenters and masons than soldiers, erecting a large wall several feet high for miles and miles along the northern border they shared with the fiercely nomadic people. The wall was more earth and stone than wood and brick, but it was effective in blocking horses and fast-moving troops and had proven decisive over the past several years in slowing the Rong Tribes’ southern sorties if not eliminating them altogether.

  Shang hadn’t known that Jing had returned to the capital, something that the man had not done in nearly ten years, having been sent straight north after his southern victories. There were many generals in the now large Qin Army, but many agreed that Jing was a leader among them, if not the finest of them all.

  “Jing will meet with us shortly,” Xian said as he sat down and looked Shang in the eye, “as will my son.”

  Shang’s shoulders slumped but he suppressed the groan he felt like letting out at the Marquis’ words. Shang had never had a good relationship with Marquis Xian’s son, Ying Si, and their relationship had particularly soured after an incident now nearly ten years old.

  Ying Si had still been an adolescent, and a tempestuous one at that, when he’d committed some crime that Shang couldn’t even now remember. He had suggested to Marquis Xian that Ying should be punished regardless of his position in the royal family. Xian had agreed, and, since it was still too much to actually punish the young Crown Prince physically, the boy’s tutors had been punished instead, since it was widely agreed in Xian’s court that the two men had failed in their duties to the boy if he’d perpetrated such an egregious crime. The two men had had their noses cut off and were banished from the capital, while Ying Si himself was banished from the royal palace for a period of one year. Seeing two old men disfigured and forced to live in the city and not the palace hadn’t been much of a punishment for the boy, Shang had thought, especially when his father ensured that a wealthy noble would house the boy in a home nearly as palatial as the palace itself. Still, at the time Shang had not had much time to think on it, so wrapped-up in the changes the reforms he was implementing were bringing about, although he would later come to regret the suggestion that he had made to Marquis Xian that day in little more than passing.

  His year of exile up, Ying Si had returned to the palace, much older and wiser it seemed, although jaded as well. The boy that’d been quick to laugh now seemed morose, his earlier humor replaced with a cold seriousness. Shang saw him often, as he lived and worked in the palace as well, and it quickly became apparent that Ying held a grudge against him. The years since then had done little to lessen the ill-feelings between them, and in nearly every matter they were in disagreement, and, Shang suspected, even if Ying knew for a certainty that Shang’s position was good for Qin.

  “Will you two ever get over the animosity that you feel toward one another?” Xian asked as if reading Shang’s thoughts. “That incident was ten years ago now.”

  “I can barely remember the incident that brought it all about,” Shang admitted.

  Xian laughed. “Oh, it seemed quite serious at the time, although now I almost laugh when I think about it, though certainly not in my son’s presence, of course.”

  “Remind me, will you, Sire?” Shang asked with a hint of a smile, the most that he ever displayed, and those exceedingly rare at best.

  Xian let out a deep breath and stared off into the distance as he remembered. Finally, without directing his gaze away from the past, he spoke.

  “As are the causes of most problems involving young men, this one involved a woman. It wasn’t a noble woman, or even one of a decent birth, if you’ll remember,” Xian said as he glanced at Shang for a moment befor
e continuing again, “but a common woman, one serving in the palace kitchens. Ying had surely had many women by that time, he was nearly a man grown, but for some reason this particular serving woman caught his attention and he just had to have her. What should have been a simple thing and something that wouldn’t have drawn anyone’s attention in the least became complicated because of another man. You see, this woman had already caught the eye of another, a young man that just happened to be the son of a noble, and when Ying’s unwanted advances became too much for her the woman rushed to her man. He confronted Ying about it and Ying proceeded to push him down a flight of stairs.” Xian paused to shake his head. “Poor boy broke his back and was never able to walk again. The truly unfortunate thing was that a few guards just happened to be coming down those stairs at the same time and caught Ying in the act of pushing the boy. The matter could have been quietly hushed up then and there if the guards would have remained silent, but instead of sending for me first they instead informed the boy’s father, who immediately rushed to the palace. By then word was out as to what had happened and the man was demanding punishment.”

  Shang nodded as Xian paused in his recounting. “I remember it well now, and am surprised that I’d forgotten. The boy’s father was from lands straddling the Qin/Shu border, and his forces had been instrumental in our efforts there. We couldn’t afford to alienate him, possibly losing his support as well as several other nobles, and when things were just beginning to go our way there.”

  “And that is why you suggested that Ying be punished,” Xian said. “I took your advice, although now I wish I had not, and the year in exile that Ying bore very nearly lost me a son. As it stands I can barely recognize the jovial and confident youth that once was whenever I see him now.”

  Both men looked down at the floor in silence for several moments as they thought back on the events of yesteryear. Their brief reveries were interrupted a few moments later when a loud knock came, and the door opened a moment later.