by Ng, Wayne;
Several of the men laughed and Zhang’s face turned red. “Captain, I must…”
“That is correct, Lieutenant, I am the Captain and you are dismissed.”
The Lieutenant performed an exaggerated salute and stormed off.
“It seems your young lieutenant doesn’t share your interest in history, nor in the Way,” Lao Tzu said from inside his bedroll.
The Captain looked down at Lao Tzu, sighed and shook his head.
“It is not his fault. Nowadays many soldiers are recruited as professionals but trained as spies. I would not be surprised if he sends a sharply-worded message to the General. Did you sleep well, Old Master?”
Lao Tzu nodded. “Finest sleep I have had in many moons, and far better than you did to judge by the bags beneath your eyes. Guarding against throat-slitting spies, perhaps?”
The Captain smiled. “Hardly. A good sleep isn’t something that ever comes easily to me.”
Lao Tzu sat up. The Captain motioned to his corporal to pour some tea. The corporal complied, though he could not have moved any slower.
“Captain Yin,” Lao Tzu began after they had drunk. “I would be interested to know why an enlightened man such as yourself chooses to remain a soldier?”
The Captain exhaled noisily and then smiled.
“To be honest, I don’t know why. My father was a farmer before he was conscripted just like me. He became a fine archer. His father was, as I said, a Royal Guardsman. So perhaps my fate was sealed from the beginning, although you will likely tell me that one’s fate can go in many directions. Perhaps I might have been more content if I had become a scholar.”
He paused for a moment, then changed the subject.
“I have no actual memories of my grandfather. Do you suppose his years in the court gave him the opportunity to have contact with intellectuals and scholars, and with the Princes? You have not spoken of him so far.”
Lao Tzu was already staring off into the distance. After a pause he spoke.
“But I have spoken of him, only perhaps in too discrete a fashion. Your grandfather was an honorable man in many ways. He endeared himself to many. He was very much an important part of the Royal Court and knew many of the intellectuals who did the rounds of the nobility and royalty, in the manner of traveling acrobats or magicians.”
“Such as Confucius?” the Captain asked.
Lao Tzu nodded. “Confucius had worked for the Duke of Lu. After leaving his post there, he wandered through Qi and Chu promulgating his beliefs and was generally received warmly. The Zhou court may have been among the least receptive to his ideas at first, as it feared spies, but he was allowed to stay at the court. Shortly after I had my conversation with Prince Chao, Confucius sent word to me that he hoped to view the Archives and discuss my views on rituals and traditions. By then I had heard of his ideas on reforming administrations and shaping society, as if people can be bent like young bamboo stalks.”
“You sound skeptical.” Captain Yin said, interrupting the old man.
“Captain, I am too old to be skeptical, but no longer young enough to remain idealistic. You wished for a portal to understanding. I once thought I could provide the same for others. I once believed my ideas would be more than that, that the Way was the inevitable and correct path for all. But I have witnessed how even the truest ideas can be corrupted. All I desire now is to complete a final journey.”
“Confucius. He corrupted your ideas?”
Lao Tzu heaved a sigh and was silent for a time. Captain Yin wondered if the old man would continue at all. But he did, and the Captain signaled to his scribe.
******
A long and cruel winter followed. The snow drifted as high as the top of the city walls in some places and frozen rain pelted and badgered all who dared walk the icy pathways. Many of the farmers who did not have winter homes of mud in the villages, froze to death in shacks of bamboo sticks next to their barren fields. I had heard that even through the winter, the Chu continued their raids on neighboring Qin and Jing. They even extracted tributes from Wei, effectively surrounding Chengzhou. There was a time when wars, as awful and fruitless as they are, followed a code of honor. Soldiers could return to their farms at key times. Now, the killings took place in any season. Huge sums of money had to be raised to finance such folly. State treasuries bled their nobles and landlords, who in turn bled their peasant farmers, laborers, slaves and soldiers.
Nature’s harshness finally ended with the fall of warm droplets of rain so gentle that each bead might have been a sparrow’s kiss. When the frozen earth began its slow thaw, the traders and merchants from distant parts arrived. Some had evaded Chu troops or else paid hefty taxes to them. In Chengzhou, they flaunted intensely blue, semi-precious stones. Many nobles could not purchase the new gems fast enough.
The thriving spring trade signaled not only a thaw in the weather, but also the adherence by the King and by Chu to an uneasy peace. For now, Chu were not likely to spread their tentacles further through Jin and into Chengzhou. But it was as if their gods had decided the world had to be cleansed. Black clouds burst open and oceans cascaded down from the heavens. This went on for weeks. The remaining snow and ice melted faster than a garden snake fleeing a mongoose.
The rain continued without end. Even old timers such as myself had never seen anything like it. When the sun did break free, it turned the earth into an enormous steam cauldron, leaving us to walk the world in layers of drenched clothing. But these brief respites from the rain created their own grief. The sun’s fire stoked the pests and gave scavengers, both human and animal, brief opportunities to forage for food. Farm plots yearning to be planted became seas of mud. Pregnant rivers surged like water demons claiming all in their path. Bloated carcasses of humans and animals floated everywhere. Chengzhou became a city of sludge. Most homes, rich and poor, suffered from the flooding.
In most of the regions surrounding Chengzhou, what little food could be preserved, bought or bartered could not be cooked because of the lack of fuel. After all the rain, drinking water reeked of rotting corpses and human and animal waste. Whole families could be found huddled under trees or other shelters, begging for food. Others lay together in water-logged shacks, arms across swollen bellies, too exhausted and hungry to fend off the insects covering their dirt and tear-streaked faces.
The Royal Palace itself was not immune from the unending deluge. Workers in the Celestial Hall struggled to keep its enormous floor clear of pools of water. The Royal Kitchen and armory were flooded for days at a time. Many of the lanterns lining the walkways and terraces were blown away or destroyed. My Archives would have suffered significant losses had it not been for the recent additions and renovations that included new drainage channels on the roof and in the cellar. These all withstood the elements.
But nothing could move through the mud without the greatest of effort. Wheels remained bogged in the quagmire. Soldiers did not stray from their barracks, leaving the general population to fend for themselves. My personal assistant Kao Shin, who was a quick learner in the Archives, also turned out to be a master scrounger. He and I were unable to find much food or fuel, but my station as master of the Archives afforded us privileges of food.
After several weeks of this calamity, King Jing finally reacted and called a meeting of the court. He ordered the Minister of State to instruct the army to make piles of corpses in preparation for disposal in mass graves. A strict curfew was implemented, as was a travel ban. Venturing beyond one’s immediate area was forbidden without Royal or military approval. This measure served to safeguard those in the wealthier districts, but it meant many peasants died in their homes as they were unable to seek food or assistance. This drew a rebuke from Prince Meng.
“Heavenly Father, such measures serve only our nobles and the families with means. I have reports that demonstrate that many poor are condemned to die where they are. They cannot sea
rch for food and clean water; they cannot search for missing family members, they cannot…”
“They cannot loot the homes of our nobles and our Royal Granaries,” Prince Chao interrupted. “Nor can they gather themselves into armed, roving, drunken, lawless bands. Surely we can offer more Royal backbone to our kind. Heavenly Father, the gods must be punishing us with good cause. Whatever has been done to incur their wrath has yet to be determined. Perhaps more silent prayer will reveal this. But for now, our best course is to safeguard what we have and protect our Palace and those around it.”
Prince Meng argued back. “Heavenly Father, as we speak, hundreds of bodies are being buried. Many families have not had an opportunity to identify their missing members. Surely the living and the dead deserve some dignity?”
The King nodded. “Indeed, the heavens must be displeased.” He glanced at both of his sons, making no other effort to stifle their disagreement.
“Perhaps my dear eldest Prince would like to assist our soldiers in dignifying these rotting corpses?” Prince Chao continued with an exaggerated flair. “We have not had rain for three days now, it might make for a pleasant stroll. I understand the odors of our dear fallen subjects are particularly… robust. Heavenly Father, it is quite conceivable that my brother speaks wisely. I suggest that we review such restrictions and I propose that Prince Meng inspect our brave soldiers to ensure that the martial law you have ordered is actually necessary and is being properly enforced. Furthermore, that he also personally examine the burial and disposal of our departed subjects.”
Prince Meng was silent while his brother and his sycophant aides smirked. In my private moments with him, I had come to understand much from Prince Meng’s smooth face; from wide-eyed, child-like curiosity during our discussions of the Way, to indignation regarding political and court matters, to profound disappointment with his brother. Until this day, he had never revealed such imbalance and apprehension. It was as though he were trying to choose which of his arms to cut off. Then he spoke.
“It is not for either myself or Prince Chao to make Royal Decrees. But if my Heavenly Father commands me thus, I shall of course obey.”
The King agreed, and issued the command. Prince Chao offered to alert the military, barely able to refrain from chuckling as he did so.
******
“Master Lao Tzu,” Prince Meng said to me afterwards, “yet again I have allowed my brother to draw me into matters of which I am not an expert. It is one thing to suggest to my father to rescind a bad edict, but quite another for me to inspect soldiers and disaster plans. I was speaking only of reports I had received. Perhaps I was hasty.”
“And who gave you such reports?” I asked.
“The Royal Archivist and his loyal staff,” he said with a smile.
“Then the Royal Archivist, old man that he is, shall accompany you.”
The next day, dark clouds hung low as I sat beside the Prince in a horse-drawn carriage. Royal Guardsmen accompanied us on all sides, forming a tight column. We drew back the curtains as we exited the Heavenly Gate to the Palace and continued along the stone pathway. Except for the central stone road, all the streets were a mess of muddy lakes and largely empty except for soldiers milling about. I could hear the occasional cry in the near distance. The simple act of breathing took much effort as the air hung damp and heavy.
“Water gives us life yet is also the bane of many an existence,” Prince Meng said as he gazed out at the scene. “It is difficult to imagine anything drying under such conditions.”
“Your Highness may recall that we’ve spoken of how the best of men are like water. Water benefits all things, yet it in itself does not contend with others. It merely flows in places that others disdain, often with tragic consequences. At other times it nourishes all life. This is where it is in harmony with the Way.”
We continued in silence on our way to the city’s South Gate. All we could see were the high walls of courtyards and the rooftops of homes belonging to noblemen and high-ranking civil servants such as myself, which crowded in the areas closest to the Palace. As we moved further away, the walls became progressively lower, the buildings smaller and more poorly-built.
We approached the first military checkpoint. Large numbers of soldiers clustered about, doing little more than biding time. As soon as they saw a Royal carriage and the Guardsmen, they snapped to attention. An officer ran to the head of the column and bowed to the commanding officer of the Guardsmen.
“Captain sir, Corporal Shui at your service. Forgive me, we were not informed of your inspection. Allow me to…”
“Where is your commanding officer?” the Captain asked. “Prince Meng is here to review the area and a slovenly detail greets him? Heads will roll, beginning now.”
“Captain, never mind,” said Prince Meng poking his head out the window. He looked at the corporal. “What can you report? Why are so many of you stationed here?”
Evidently Prince Chao had made no advance arrangements for the inspection.
“Your Highness, we have been assigned to maintain security along the Royal road. I am pleased to report it is secure and free of looters. I will call for the commanding officer overseeing this district at once.”
“That won’t be necessary. How much looting has occurred?” the Prince asked.
The corporal hesitated, then replied that no looting had occurred in the districts surrounding the Palace.
“Then how many lives have been lost?” the Prince asked.
The corporal paused again before replying that there had been no fatalities in the areas surrounding the Palace. The Prince and I exchanged glances. The Prince asked where most of the damage and looting had occurred. The corporal indicated to the west, off the main roads in the slums, and along the river banks.
I told the Prince I was familiar with the area, but that it would be impossible to reach because of the mud. He ignored me and directed the carriage driver and the Royal Guardsmen to head in that direction.
“Your Highness,” the corporal attempted to interrupt. “Your escorts may protect you, but there is much disease and filth. Rats the size of cats are preying on lost children. It is not a sight for Royal eyes.”
“A corporal dares to tell a Prince what is fit for him to see?”
The corporal dropped to his knees and quickly kowtowed several times as he apologized for his stupidity and begged for the Prince’s forgiveness. The Prince ignored him and ordered the carriage to move on.
The main road remained clear but quiet. We peered through our curtains at the narrow side streets where people scattered at the sight of the procession. The Prince ordered the Captain to move off the stone road and into the muddied side streets. The Royal carriage lurched to a sudden stop as its wheels sank into the mud. The Royal Guardsmen broke formation and began pushing and pulling to bring the carriage out of the morass. Several of them slipped into the thick mud as they struggled. Then to my surprise, the Prince halted their exertions.
“We will never break free with our weight anchoring the carriage,” he said turning to me.
He stepped out of the carriage and in an instant, his red gazelle leather boots sank into the quagmire. The sludge-smeared men stood still in shock, then dropped onto their knees and hands. The Prince waved me out of the carriage, ordered the drivers off, then commanded the men to rise. He directed them to place anything flat and solid beneath the wheels. When he looked around and found nothing in the immediate vicinity, he ordered the men to remove their tunics and place them under the carriage wheels. They took their positions, this time with the Prince counting to three and pushing alongside them. Within seconds the carriage was free. The men and a small crowd of locals cheered and applauded the Prince.
One look at the river of mud ahead told us it was futile to carry on. But the Prince continued to surprise me. Without a word, he stumbled through the quagmire on foot, oblivious
to the splatters of mud on his blazing yellow robe. Though he had to struggle with each and every step, he moved forward with a relentless determination. Weary residents slowly inched out of their hovels to watch and I could hear word spreading that the Prince was in their midst. Most had likely never seen him up close, and certainly never in their neighborhood and acting so human.
The Prince’s eyes scrutinized his subjects, many of whom were so weak they could barely stand, let alone bow. Their ragged clothes hung loose on their bony frames, and dirt streaked their gaunt faces. The smell of rot and decay and of feces was everywhere. The Prince, angry but resolute, focused on a boy no more than six years old, leaning against a crumbled mud wall. The child had swollen, cracked lips punctuated by deep lesions. He was oblivious to the mosquitoes feasting on his flaking skin.
“Where is your mother?” the Prince asked.
The boy’s sunken eyes looked up at the Prince, but they could only blink. The Prince repeated his question. Still the child gave off a vacant stare. The Prince looked behind the wall. The straw roof had caved into what was a tiny room not much larger than the Prince’s carriage. Inside lay a woman, the boy’s mother, whose body looked as though every drop of moisture had been sucked out of it. She smelled of rotting fish and fresh feces. The Prince turned around and staggered away, fighting back his vomit. Several men instinctively rushed towards him, then stopped. Ordinary hands on a Royal would have meant serious punishment. His personal attendant was called for, but the Prince waved him and the soldiers off.
“Cholera,” he said to no one in particular as he struggled for air. He ordered fresh water for the boy. The men looked at one another.
“What are you waiting for?” he shouted. I had never heard the Prince raise his voice before.
A soldier offered forth his own leather drinking vessel. The Prince held the boy and gave him water which he swallowed in large gulps, spilling much of it onto the Prince’s robe. The Prince took out his silk handkerchief and wet it before wiping clean the boys face and arms.