Finding The Way Read online

  A butcher offered six freshly slaughtered chickens and three goat heads.

  The crowd oooo-ed and ahhhh-ed.

  The auctioneer pleaded with the bidders.

  “Honorable masters, though she is small, her father, a loyal subject, swears she is very obedient and will learn fast.”

  The auctioneer pointed at the parents, still fighting back tears.

  “Surely you can offer more for such fine pedigree!” he urged. He tried to pry apart the girl’s lips to reveal her teeth but she resisted. She was about to push his hand away when our eyes locked for a moment, and she relaxed and let him do it, while still standing tall and proud.

  “Wang Wei, be careful!” one of the peasants shouted. “She might not be strong but she could still bite your pecker off—if she could find it.”

  The crowd broke out in laughter and jeers. A Major of the Royal Guard, a towering man, stepped onto the platform. He was carrying the longest and most intimidating halberd I had ever seen. Its bamboo shaft was capped with three glistening blades, one like a spear, a short blade spiked off one side of the shaft, and a final blade shaped like a crescent. He had a deep scar running from forehead to cheek and a thick, woolly beard tied into a single braid. His dark, humorless eyes surveyed those watching as if he were ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. He raised a Royal standard, and banged the butt end of his halberd down on the platform, effectively quieting the crowd. Then he nodded towards a phalanx of armor-clad bodyguards approaching from behind the crowd, along with the King’s carriage.

  “The King! Look away,” the crowd whispered. We dropped our heads to avoid inadvertently looking at the Son of Heaven, an indiscretion punishable with twenty lashes and in some cases death. From the corner of my eye, I could see he was well-hidden behind a curtain.

  The Major was about to drag away the young girl when she looked up at him, revealing her diamond-shaped face, dark and inquisitive eyes as shiny as the finest lacquer. This startled the Major and he hesitated for a swollen moment before he returned the glance. Then he gingerly took her hand and, fulfilling his duty, led her to the King’s procession.

  The auctioneer feigned a protest, but an official clanked a small bundle of spade-shaped dao coins onto the platform, some spilling over. The auctioneer could not hide his glee.

  The Royal carriage and the Guardsmen moved on. Many in the crowd went over to congratulate the young woman’s parents whose honor at having their daughter taken to the King’s private realm would improve their social standing. The parents failed to reciprocate the enthusiasm, though the crowd dispersed into pockets of excitement.

  “The Son of Heaven already owns the most beautiful women in the world. Why take a raggedy farm girl?”

  “She may be a farm girl, but she can wash my feet any time.”

  “Dream on, you old goat. If she or any other women in the Palace so much as touches anybody else’s feet, the King would see that two heads will roll—hers and the idiot who couldn’t keep his stalk where it belonged.”

  It suddenly occurred to me that the charlatan, as bad as he was at pretending he was blind, seemed to know who I was. He had referred to me as Master Scholar. I turned to query him, but he had disappeared.

  ******

  Lao Tzu’s voice faded as he stopped to take a sip of water. A full day had passed since he had begun telling his story.

  Captain Yin shifted in his seat. He was enthralled with all he had heard, but could not help but question what he felt was a digression.

  “Old Master, please excuse my impertinence, but what does the farm girl have to do with the Way, or with my grandfather?”

  Lao Tzu poured himself some freshly-boiled water.

  “Everything and nothing.” He gently blew on his water. “The Way surrounded her as it does me. As it does all of us. The harmony of Nature flows freely. It is the very rhythm of life. This order allows us to act without action and to do without doing, such as when Shun saved that drowning boy.”

  Lao Tzu sensed Captain Yin’s confusion, and so he elaborated.

  “My good Captain, the Way is not a block of wood to be carved, nor is it a set of edicts from our rulers to be studied and practiced. Yet through it, all things are done. It is by how you live that you see and understand it. I had asked you if soldiering and war were acts of nature or human folly. Was this girl’s life, or even that of the King’s, fated and fixed? Were they part of the stream running with the wind, or were they logs thrown in to dam its flow?”

  Yin pondered his questions while Lao Tzu sipped his water.

  “But Old Master, if it is order and structure that you question, consider where we would be without it. Laws, leadership… these are foundations of Zhou, of all life.”

  Lao Tzu sighed. “There are laws and order to everything, especially in Nature, it is true. But these possess a very different cadence from the ones advanced by people such as Confucius. He believed that order and stability are the foundations of society. He, along with many other scholars, counseled our Son of Heaven, the dukes and the lords with such ideas. Through this, many such scholars came to wield enormous power.”

  “And you?” Yin nodded. “Did you not have a similar standing within the court?”

  Lao Tzu put his cup down.

  “If you understood the Way, you would refrain from asking such a question. I have observed that those who gain what is under heaven by tampering with it do not succeed. Those that grab at something, lose it. For among the creatures of the world some lead and some follow, some blow hot when others blow cold. Some are vigorous just when others are worn out.”

  Yin straightened and nodded for Lao Tzu to continue. He would measure at another time what he had heard.

  6

  The Forbidden Royal Palace

  I stayed at an inn near the Palace for a few days, awaiting Yi Ban’s instructions. When he and an aide finally appeared, his warm sympathetic smile greeted me once again. He enquired about my journey and stay in Chengzhou, but his casual disposition was short-lived. He immediately began preparing me for an audience with the King.

  “The Palace is a solemn place,” Yi Ban declared. “Matters of state, in fact any matters involving the Royal Family, are conducted with the strictest etiquette. The King is never to be addressed as such, nor as a person. He is Heaven’s representative, hence he is to be addressed as the Son Of Heaven. My aide will brief you further on some of the finer details of protocol and ritual so that you will be presented in the best possible light.”

  Yi Ban edged toward me. “Lao Tzu, you may be wiser and more enlightened than many scholars within the Palace. But here, your past and your credentials may not hold much currency. You will be viewed with uncertainty and misgivings until you have proven the doubters to be misguided, and even then there may still be those who seek to profit from your virtue. You must learn to view others in like manner.”

  I smiled. “To what end can an archivist gain or profit from his standing?”

  “Do not be so dismissive of yourself or your situation. With heaven’s grace you will soon be in the corridors of power. It is a position and an opportunity that leaves few unchanged, and regrettably taints many. Your outsider’s counsel and fresh eyes will be invaluable... if you can maintain them.”

  ******

  The Forbidden Yellow Palace was located in the exact centre of the city. Its perimeter was perfectly squared with a thick wall that paralleled the city’s walls. Guarding the only public entrance and exit was the arched Heavenly Gate. The heavy oak gates were painted gold and adorned with phoenixes symbolizing good fortune. It was framed by battlements that faced south and stood four stories high, with yellow tiles on multiple, steeply-constructed roofs.

  Entering the Palace required advance permission, or good standing among the military, with at least one reference from either nobles or government officials, or else
Royal assent. Once again, Yi Ban’s seal served me well and I was ushered in, but not before undergoing a lengthy search by grave-faced Royal Guardsmen. Once through, I was greeted by stone lions the size of small horses. Above me on the battlement, a platoon of soldiers and ready archers followed my every movement.

  I was instructed to follow a silent Royal Guardsman. He led me onto the stone road that led directly through a wide, dirt courtyard. Legend said nothing was able to grow in this area, not even the hardiest weed, because of the salt from tears and pools of blood spilled from all the executions carried out over the centuries.

  Within the grounds before the Royal buildings, there were numerous walled compounds of many different designs. Some had higher walls, some additional stories or more elaborate décor. It all depended upon on when they were built, for what purpose, and most importantly, for whom. These compounds included the living quarters for some high-ranking ministers, together with several buildings such as barracks and armory for the Royal Guardsmen, servants’ quarters, housing for livestock, official guest quarters, the kitchens and the Archives. Sadly, the Archives structure appeared unkempt.

  Privileged slaves and servants lived in thatch-roofed, mud brick, single room huts which stood within the grounds of walled villas belonging to their masters, each one surrounded by their own complexes and by high walls pierced by wide passageways. It was as though the Palace consisted of many inner cities within itself, each with its own hierarchies and allegiances. I heard of many young noble women who had never ventured beyond their own walls, let alone outside the Palace; and of slaves born within the Palace and who spent their entire lives there. Death threatened any who strove to escape from their masters, and such punishment was rarely required. Many outsiders would gladly have traded places for the relative safety and full bellies such servitude provided.

  Precisely three thousand paces from the city wall and through the Heavenly Gate in a perfect north-south axis, loomed the Grand Celestial Hall. The Zhou had long boasted that it was the largest building in the world. Giant carved dragons hung over the entrance, dragons of course being our rulers’ favorite symbols of authority, fertility, goodness and above all else—strength.

  The Hall was erected on a raised terrace of beaten earth, adding to its dizzying height of five stories. Whereas all other curved roof structures within the Palace had yellow tiling, the Hall’s massive roof tiles were painted blue to symbolize the sky. This enormous weight rested on a complex system of beams and brackets constructed from the stoutest of Tibetan cypress trees, decorated with bronze joint plates with coiled serpent and dragon motifs.

  It was boasted that inside, the Son of Heaven could preside over audiences of up to five hundred people.

  Flanking the Hall were four identical buildings, two on each side. The two on the western side were private chambers for the King and Queen, and for the Princes. The two on the other side were for the concubines, servants, visiting family, dignitaries and celebrated guests of the Royals. Each was connected by elevated covered walkways to shield the Royals from mortal eyes. Behind this flank of buildings were the Royal Gardens, courts for gamesmanship, and the King’s private stable and armory.

  Seven hundred years ago, the Zhou must have thought the world was ending as thousands of barbaric nomads on horseback swept over the plains, slaying the King and plundering the old capital of Daoyang. The remaining Zhou Royals fled from their western power base, relying on the lords of Qin and Jin to provide for their safety. Eventually, they established Chengzhou as their new capital. I am sure they thought their new walls would stand for a thousand years. However poor construction and the constant wars had left the walls weak to their core. Yet weakened walls and decaying morality are like rot and disease—they occupy the same branch of a dying tree.

  Though our rulers still favored yellow for the Palace walls and had everything painted accordingly, it had obviously been some time since they had seen a fresh coat of paint. Dry, cracked lines and peeling sections were found on most walls, except for those in the inner court, and many appeared like the ordinary dried mud walls seen everywhere else. But even as I searched for faults about the Palace, I could not help but feel wonder and awe at the enormity and scale of the Palace’s grandeur, in particular the beauty of the ceiling, which was painted like the night sky with the constellations

  This symbolized the King’s mandate from heaven to rule. Rulers are put in place by heaven and may continue to rule so long as they do so with justice and wisdom. When they cease to rule in the best interests of their subjects, the mandate of heaven requires that they be overthrown. For those such as myself, whose lives were largely unaffected by the ceremonial and functional roles of the King, how they lived their lives and how they presided had little bearing. But now, as I approached the apex of ceremonial power, I had to re-examine this. I could not disagree that moral and just leadership should be divine in origin and reflective of heaven’s natural creations on earth. This made the failure of leadership so much more tragic. But what if leadership could be otherwise, what possibilities could there be?

  Over the centuries, the Palace had burnt down several times due to lightning strikes, invasions or general carelessness. Despite this, repeated reconstructions followed principles that sought to revere heaven, and there was thus little deviation in architectural design, and the liberal use of torches and lanterns still brightened the Hall like a summer day inside.

  A phalanx of torches and Royal Guardsmen lined the imposing walk to the King’s dais, casting fleeting shadows along the way. Lanterns were placed above enormous bronze vessels on fine lacquer bases depicting Zhou rulers and their past victories - none of them recent. Round bronze mirrors hung from posts, warding off evil spirits.

  As if to compensate for his dwindling power, King Jing became perhaps the most accessible of the Zhou rulers in memory. He had never known hunger or want, and had never shared a meal with anyone outside of his lineage or official circles, which was not unusual for the Son of Heaven. Yet he fashioned himself as loved and revered by his subjects. Executions, while still common, had become less frequent under his reign, and taxes had not been raised in some time. Once a week, the King and other members of his family presided over an audience with their subjects, hearing matters of state, as well as arbitrating disputes. The King had invested heavily in the tutelage of his sons, his heirs, and generally encouraged their counsel, particularly when holding court. That common folk were regularly allowed into the Palace, albeit after a thorough search and under heavy guard, was a remarkable symbol of openness. Many regions had become oblivious to centralized Royal rule. The idea of there being a universally-acclaimed enlightened and beloved King was as much an illusion as the idea of their lofty stature.

  I was among a small group of pre-selected subjects to be presented on that day. Once inside, we were surrounded by scores of Royal Guardsmen in ceremonial uniforms. Within this cocoon, we knelt before King Jing, as did the Ministers such as Yi Ban, the Ministers of Law, State, Civil Administration, Social Welfare, Justice and Works, and the all-powerful Minister of War and their aides.

  I stole glances in the ruler’s direction. Facing south, he sat in the centre of the Royal dais, which stood several feet above the ground. His twin sons, the Princes, who were eighteen years old at that time, sat on either side of him: Prince Meng to his right, Prince Chao to his left. The Queen sat one step below the males, though she might as well have been a thousand li away to judge from the remoteness in her eyes.

  Prince Meng was the elder of the siblings by a span of minutes. Custom dictated that the elder would succeed to the throne, though there were occasions when this tradition had previously been broken for political or personal expedience if the King so chose.

  My introduction was one of many items of minor business presented that day and I was able to observe all matters of the day preceding mine. This included a prisoner who was dragged in by two guards. Hi
s hair had been erratically cut short, marking him as a prisoner, and his wrists were bound behind his back with hemp rope, while fresh bruises covered his bloodied face. One of the guards bowed and bellowed, “Your Majesty, this filth has been charged with stealing from the Royal kitchen.”

  The King nodded at his Princes.

  It was said that Prince Chao was like his father from birth: stubborn, proud and forever vigilant. There were those who believed he slept with his eyes open. Though he was younger than his brother, one might have thought he was vying to take the throne himself, as he showed no lack of confidence in court.

  “Heavenly Father, you always say a crime against us is a crime against heaven,” Prince Chao said. I stole a quick glance in his direction. His raised chin suggested authority. The lustrous sheen of his hair, and the manner in which it was tightly bound in a top knot covered with a hat, suggested boldness and confidence.

  “Ah Chao, you have the memory of a lonely concubine,” the King chuckled in reply.

  Prince Meng, on the other hand, had the calm, thoughtful qualities that his father and brother rarely displayed. He looked at the servant. Instead of a hat like his brother wore, his head was covered with a square piece of cloth.

  “Heavenly Father,” he said, “is this not a man whose family has served our family for generations? The village of his clan was recently burnt to the ground by roving soldiers who had deserted the Chu. Perhaps we should consider this before we condemn him. I believe that to be just.”

  “Heavenly Father, the Gods and our other servants will take note of any weakness we show.” Prince Chao emphasized the word ‘weakness’ and, judging from his tone, I could imagine him shooting his brother a scalding look.

  “They will also reflect on any compassion and mercy we display,” Prince Meng responded.

  The King rubbed his chin and grinned at his two sons. “Excellent. I see the fruits of my wisdom. There can be no greater comfort than knowing my success as a father and as King. This dynasty will pass into capable hands. Each of my princes profits as though one were a fisherman, the other his indispensable cormorant.”