Finding The Way Page 10

  She saw me glance at the small bundle of food wrapped and slung over her shoulder.

  “Neither you nor I look as though we need to risk our lives by stealing food.”

  “You are correct.” she said. “But to do nothing would mean my parents and sisters would starve. It is a risk I am ready to take.”

  In response to my questions, she told me they worked a plot for a lord not far away. But after years of successful millet crops, a plague of locusts and a fire forced her parents to make heartbreaking but necessary choices.

  “You must miss them,” I said.

  She turned away as if to hide her emotion. I shared with her some of my father’s technique of alternating and mixing crops, giving the land time to heal and replenish itself. I had since seen these methods used effectively in several other regions. She seemed interested and we spoke at length about farming matters.

  Then she asked, “Why did you risk yourself?”

  “Followers of the Way do not distinguish between themselves and the world. The needs of other people are our own. I try to do good to those who are good, but also good to those who do not do good. Goodness then becomes my all. I trust those who are trustworthy and also trust those who are not trustworthy.”

  “I trust no one,” she replied. “Except perhaps the Black Serpent.”

  “The Black Serpent?”

  She nodded. “I do not know how the Black Serpent learned of my need to bring food to my family. But a tablet with his insignia was left in my chamber with a note advising me to wait until the time he designated. When that moment came, I found a sack of food with instructions on how to evade the Palace Guards. It has happened several times. He has not failed us once.”

  “Interesting. An ally exists for you within the Palace.”

  “Others would say a spy.”

  “Perhaps even a potential follower of the Way, someday,” I said.

  “Who are these followers?”

  “Followers of the Way live in harmony with the world, and our mind is the world’s mind. So I nurture the worlds of others, as a mother does her children’s. And as a daughter would her parents in return. As you are doing.”

  A hint of a smile broke through her tight face. She dropped her sack to the ground. “They were right, you do speak in riddles. What is this Way?’

  I returned her smile. “You have borne witness to it. But tell me, what is your name? Or should I ask someone in the Royal Court?”

  “I thought there was familiarity about your face as well.”

  I reached for some sweet rice cake on the ground that hadn’t been completely ruined. I broke off a piece for her and then for myself. She untied her sack and put most of what I had given her into it. We nibbled away in silence, though her eyes darted about at every sound, no doubt still wary of the soldiers. We could hear peasants returning, cursing the soldiers as well as the King’s name.

  “Our indiscretions bind us,” I said. “Though I suspect yours will cost you far more than mine.”

  She nodded. “Such is the lot of women and servants.”

  “And the risk of feeding one’s family. Perhaps you had best continue on with your purpose.”

  She looked at the waning sun, re-tied the sack and hefted it over her shoulder. Before leaving, she turned a last time to face me.

  “Mei,” she said. “My name is Mei, my Lord. May I know yours?”

  “Lao Tzu. I can be found in the Archives. But I am no lord. I am simply…“

  “A man who surrounds himself with compassion like a fortress ….”

  “Is forever strong,” I interjected.

  Mei smiled. “Perhaps someday I may learn more of this Way?”

  Then she scampered over the wall with the ease of a deer running in a meadow. I nodded at the diamond-faced thief as she disappeared into the bushes.

  9

  Prince Meng

  “This young woman... Mei,” Captain Yin said. “She returns to your story.”

  Lao Tzu nodded and sipped his tea. “The good Captain is surprised that a woman could have a place with the Way?”

  “Perhaps.” The Captain shrugged. “The role for women is limited. Such has been and always shall be the case.”

  “Not so, Captain.” Lao Tzu put his cup down. “The universe is not drawn in divisions of men and women. At the deepest level of our being – in our very essence – we are neither. Here in this world, in this life, we inhabit either the energy of a male or a female body. But beyond that, we are equal and are essential to one another.

  “So it is her story as much as it is that of the Princes and you?”

  Lao Tzu sighed again. “We are all here because of the balance of energy between male and female. You of all people will come to see that this young woman’s place in the story is no mere aside. Be patient. Let us move on first with the Princes, then all shall become clearer.”

  The Captain nodded.

  ******

  It pleased me that I had been able to convince the King to see the value in the dynasty’s forgotten treasures and records. But his command to create a permanent record of his greatness was unfeasible. Indeed, it was naive. It did, however, accord me the much-needed credibility that Yi Ban had spoken of. I knew the King’s idea of greatness was not in keeping with the Way. If he were truly great, he would fulfill his purpose and have no interest in self-aggrandizement regarding what he had done. He would fulfill his duties as a good ruler and not boast. He would fulfill his obligations to lead but take little pride. And he would fulfill his role, but only as a role that could not be avoided.

  Yi Ban suddenly had many demands on, and expectations of, my perch in the bureaucracy. None, however, were more tedious than sitting through certain state functions. Though politics was part of my role, I had little personal interest in it beyond that which promoted the interests of the Archives. Yi Ban insisted that I at least familiarize myself with court protocol and matters of state in order to be presentable at all formal occasions. It was on one such occasion, during a state dinner with the newly-arrived emissary from Chu, Duke Huilan, that there occurred an early harbinger of the future.

  Many states such as Chu openly disregarded the Royal Family and had reduced their tributes to the Royals. The King made no secret of how incensed he was. The lack of deference from these territories had become a burning humiliation. Exacerbating this was the expectation among some of the states that the King should provide military support in order that the Royal territory remain secure from barbarian invasions and lawless renegade attacks. To demonstrate his wrath, the King had expelled the previous emissary of Chu, but not before he had the emissary’s messenger’s tongue cut out and boiled with pigs’ feet, making a soup he drank to show how ruthless he could be.

  But Chu was increasingly powerful and more strategically located than any of the other breakaway states. Knowing that the weakened Zhou family had little bargaining room, Chu now exhibited much swagger and showed little apprehension in dealing with the King and the few allies that he could mobilize. This was all common knowledge, and none of it would have concerned me had my station not brought me into such close proximity to these leaders. Indeed, this was made clear when Duke Huilan arrived at the west gate of Chengzhou.

  I was told that most emissaries arrived only with an aide or two and some servants. But Duke Huilan also came with a battalion of heavily-armed infantrymen and a platoon of battle-hardened cavalry. Needless to say, he was refused entry.

  “It is a provocation,” Prince Chao announced to the court.

  “And an insult to the Son Of Heaven,” Yi Ban added.

  “The Duke’s entourage is meant to intimidate. But surely he must know that armed troops cannot enter our gates,” Prince Meng said.

  “We can easily overwhelm them, if it pleases my Son Of Heaven,” General Wu stated.

  “Th
at may be precisely the tactic he hopes for,” Prince Chao replied. “I say leave them there to rot.”

  “Heavenly Father, I suspect the Duke is responding to the way we treated the previous emissary’s messenger,” Prince Meng said.

  “It was justified,” the King replied indignantly. “The emissary should have known better than to make such demands, especially through a worthless servant.”

  “What does the Duke think he’s doing?” Prince Chao asked. “It is a token force he brings, loaded more with a message than any real threat.”

  “Heavenly Father, he expects us to cower and quiver,” Prince Meng said. “Instead let us disarm him with hospitality and drink. We should welcome him and his servants into Chengzhou. The rest of his escort will be feasted as visiting cousins, but shall remain outside our gates. In so doing, we would blunt his message and remind him that he is before the Royal Court, under the roof of the Son of Heaven.”

  The King pondered Prince Meng’s counsel, then nodded his approval.

  And so a banquet in the Duke’s honor was hastily arranged for two nights hence, with the Grand Hall turned into a massive banquet room. The Duke entered wearing a flowing saffron robe with purple trim simply adorned with a jade amulet in the shape of a crane. The King’s clothiers had easily bested that as he arrived in a fiery red silk robe emblazoned with gold-threaded dragons with huge black eyes. A deep blue sash on both the wide collars and billowing sleeves completed an outfit that likely would have cost dozens of farms several years’ worth of production.

  The menu included many different preparations involving the six cereals—rice, millet, corn, sorghum, wheat and wild rice stems; the six animals—horse, cow, sheep, pig, dog, and chicken, and the six liquids—soup and five wines, including spring and pear. As with other formal banquets I endured, food was secondary to the reciprocity of etiquette, of whoever offered the choicest bits of food to whomever first, and to the polite refusals back and forth until the food was cold and nothing really was consumed except for the wine. That evening, however, the King and the Duke carried on like old friends and enjoyed the evening’s offerings. I knew this civility was merely in keeping with protocol and waited to see how the underlying tensions would be addressed.

  While they ate, rhythmic clanging began to fill the Hall as the orchestra of stone chimes, ox skin drums and racks of bronze and wooden bells struck up to entertain the audience. Five young women seemed to float into the Hall from behind a curtain, each adorned in the finest ruby silk gowns with gold-threaded embroidered dragons and tigers. Jade jewelry dangled from their ears and covered their thin, birdlike fingers. The dancers’ movements were slow but precise at first, then gradually grew faster as the music swelled in volume. They deftly flicked their wrists, and turned their bamboo fans with each beat of the drums, playfully hiding different parts of their faces. Their hips swirled in time to the racks of bells. The ballad was called ‘Yellow Moon Rising,’ and was meant to convey youthful vigor yearning to be free. Despite the dancers’ uniformly fixed smiles and heavily-painted white faces, I identified one dancer among them—Mei. If she recognized me, she gave no indication.

  The final movement came to a climactic close with the dancers holding their fans above their heads, eyes gazing upwards, exposing their bare wrists and forearms. The men gasped, and the King and Duke nodded to indicate their approval and pleasure. Had I been one to be charmed by women, Mei in particular would have earned my attention. The Duke took an extra long glance at her, which left the King grinning. Mei also clearly transfixed Prince Chao.

  Prince Meng politely applauded, prompting others to follow. The Duke leaned into the King.

  “The Son of Heaven has outdone himself by surrounding the court with the most beautiful women in the world. They are jewels, especially the one on the left.” He pointed towards Mei.

  The King leered at the young women.

  “The Duke is most astute. I personally selected them from all parts of Zhou.”

  Like young noblemen regaling one another with stories of their conquests of women, the Duke and the King exchanged knowing glances. The King signaled for more wine.

  “Perhaps our Son of Heaven has found the elixir to our complicated world,” the Duke said. “We expend too much energy on disagreements. We should focus more on the pleasures of our stations—fine drink, lovely women, sweet music, and the good health of our Son Of Heaven and his heir.”

  He held up his goblet and nodded to both the King and Prince Meng, then drank the wine. The King followed suit, toasting the Duke.

  Perhaps Prince Chao was offended by the Duke’s gesture towards his father and brother while ignoring him. He stiffened and his face reddened. He was about to say something when the Queen started to giggle uncontrollably. Then she started to tear up. An aide handed her a drink which she flung away with a pout. The King gave her a reproachful look then motioned for the dancers and musicians to be dismissed. Mei gave no sign of recognition in my direction as she exited. The Queen soon left the table while humming a nursery rhyme.

  With the entertainment and food dispensed with, it was time to proceed with business. Duke Huilan began.

  “The Son of Heaven honors me, yet I am not worthy of his gracious hospitality. From the moment my party arrived in Chengzhou, I have been humbled by his generosity. I understand my predecessor may not have been satisfied with his reception, which was most regrettable. It is my hope that I can better represent the great kingdom of Chu.”

  The King nodded, and the Duke continued.

  “As this court knows, Chu stands for peace. But our Son of Heaven must be aware that the messenger was acting on orders from his master, the previous envoy. He was merely conveying the views of my esteemed King. That a Royal messenger was received in such a manner is not in keeping with the good relations we have enjoyed. Kang, the King of Chu, has instructed me to give the Son of Heaven an opportunity to rectify what some might interpret as a slight.”

  The King shifted in his seat, while Prince Chao instinctively reached for the hilt of his dagger. The Duke carried on.

  “As a gesture of goodwill, I come bearing tribute. Our King sends a gift for both the brave Princes as well as for the Son of Heaven.”

  The Duke’s assistant brought forth a cushion upon which sat three bronze belt hooks inlaid with exquisitely carved jewels. Such objects had recently become fashionable among Royalty and nobles.

  The King examined each of the hooks with curiosity, then dropped them back onto the cushion. As he spoke his voice was heavy both with the sweet jade colored wine and indignation.

  “Tell Kang that a hundred of these would not cause me to express any regret for my actions. It is he who lacks respect.”

  Prince Chao jumped in. “Furthermore, there is no King of Chu. Need you be reminded that you are addressing the Son of Heaven? This court is the divine ruler of all lands under heaven. Chu’s arrogance is inexcusable.”

  The Duke looked at the rejected belt hooks and hesitated. He had likely hoped for a more favorable reaction.

  “If the Son Of Heaven may allow me to explain this gift,” he said. “Neither craftsmen of Chu nor of Jin, nor anywhere in Zhou made these hooks. They were captured from nomads who recently overwhelmed the defensive towers to the north that were built by your ancestors many generations ago. Someone should have told your engineers that a wall, a great wall and not just a weak system of towers, is needed to keep out the barbarians. The Royal Tombs of your parents south of Dai would have been plundered if my King’s followers had not intervened.”

  Many years ago, in what had become northern Chu, the King’s father, in preparation for his death, had built an elaborate tomb to resemble his Palace on a smaller scale. An enormous mound of earth was layered then dug out. Thick-timbered beams and clay bricks held up the many chambers with their richly plastered and decorated walls. When he finally died, in accordance with his instru
ctions, his son, King Jing, mourned him for six months, then buried his father along with his many possessions, including his still living concubines, eunuchs and horses.

  Upon hearing of the near plundering of his father’s tomb, King Jing lurched up from his seat. “Why was I not informed of this?”

  “Informing the Son of Heaven of the incident is one of my tasks as the envoy from Chu. I might also add that our King should not be seen as anything other than a loyal cousin. It is your other subjects neighboring you, the Qin, Jin and those tattooed barbarians, the Wu, and any number of other warlords, whom you should guard against. The Royal House requires friends who will stand up for it. We performed our duty in safeguarding the Royal Tombs and in protecting the hinterlands from incursion from barbarians as well as from disloyal neighbors. However, these actions might best be met with some gratitude in the form of recompense from the Son of Heaven.”

  The King could not hide his contempt.

  “Chu is not the guardian and protector of Zhou!” he shouted. “You forget you are addressing the Son of Heaven, the King of Zhou. Such statements are reckless.”

  “My Son of Heaven,” the Duke replied, “I am but an emissary conveying a message. The King of Chu desires nothing more than peace. Your crops have been bountiful, trade is thriving, and the treasury must surely be bursting. Our King knows this. And he also believes that if it were not for his friendship and protection, you might not have the splendor of this Palace and of Chengzhou.”

  The King slammed his hand down on the table, causing several ministers to jump.

  “Chu is playing with fire, Duke. I could easily have you and your escorts interned for your insolence. Perhaps that is a response Kang would begin to understand?”

  “It would hardly merit the Son of Heaven’s effort. Our King has asked me to inform you that he has fifty thousand soldiers within two days of the Han Gu Pass. Killing me would give Chu a pretext for war. I doubt that you are prepared for this. I ask the Son of Heaven to reconsider.”