Finding The Way Read online

  “But what if the fisherman’s hand should prove to lack the necessary firmness and strength?” Prince Chao said in a clear reference to his brother.

  The King’s laughter filled the court. “Prince Chao, your elder brother may not have your skill with a bow or your daring on horseback, but he is not without acumen, and he is by rights my heir.”

  I listened closely. Prince Meng could have built on his father’s affirmation of his right to rule, but instead he ignored his brother.

  The King nodded towards Prince Chao. “You are quite right. Forgiveness is a weakness I cannot afford. This thief’s right hand will be fed to the dogs. His left hand will be branded with my seal. The world will see how I reward disloyalty. He can learn to herd sheep. They will have less to steal from.”

  The prisoner whimpered. Prince Chao made no effort to conceal his smugness. Then the King looked to Prince Meng whose eyes had remained on the servant. “And his family will receive a sack each of sorghum and millet each spring for ten years.”

  The Queen adjusted her gold hair pin and giggled like a little girl with a secret. An awkward silence followed, then I heard the King’s heavy sigh and what sounded like a mumbled rebuke at his Queen.

  An official shouted out to those in attendance, “His Highness King Jing is all powerful and merciful! May heaven continue to bless us with his wisdom!”

  Those present repeated these phrases in perfect unison while remaining kneeling on the ground. The prisoner was dragged out. The official then shouted out, “Minister Yi Ban, the Honorable Minister of Rites!” And Yi Ban stepped forward and knelt before the King.

  “If it pleases the Son Of Heaven, may I present to you, your new Royal Archivist, Lao Tzu, esteemed scholar and former master of the highly-regarded Sword Hill Academy.”

  I stepped up, knelt, then bowed three times and remained prone. I could feel the King’s eyes studying me as though I were a snake that might strike once his back was turned, or simply slither away.

  “Another great scholar. Another great representative of the literati. Hmmph. The last archivist was a thief and a spy. Do you know what fate shall befall him once he is captured? Speak, scholar.”

  I remained bowed and spoke clearly. “If it pleases the Son Of Heaven, I trust my predecessor’s very own soul has already passed judgment on his failings and that the wisdom of the heavens will exact their providence. As for this court, the repugnance which it must feel will no doubt be matched by an earthly retribution of its choosing.’

  A silence followed. Yi Ban quickly repeated my credentials to the King, who sighed.

  “Neither a battle-scarred warrior, nor a noble of impeccable peerage, yet you are ready to fill us with your wisdom, righteousness and arrogance.” He slapped his knees and laughed again as though he was at a cock fight.“Rise, Lao Tzu. Look at your Son of Heaven so that I may see your eyes. How enlightened and kind will you consider me if I banish you and ban all your teachings?”

  The Son of Heaven wore a long braided beard tied with gold foil. For a man who had likely never toiled for a moment in physical labor in his life, his face and hands were surprisingly creased and dry. Large dark eyes attempted to burn me like flaming arrows, but I had long since learned to live with fear and found them no more frightening than summer fireflies. His hair was bound in a tight bun held together with a jade hairpin fashioned into a dragon.

  “If it pleases the Son Of Heaven, he may banish wisdom and discard knowledge from the people. For they may benefit a hundredfold still as ignorance is ultimately blissful. Banish forced duty and insincere kindness, for compassion will form of its own accord. Banish that which motivates profit, for thieves and robbers will disappear. If without these three things your people find life too plain and unadorned, then let them have simplicity to contemplate, and the un-carved block—the uncorrupted mind—and allow them selflessness and a repudiation of frivolous desires.”

  The King rose, glaring at me as he stepped off the dais, his hand resting on the hilt of his jewel-crusted dagger. The fireflies had developed darts. I should have better minded Yi Ban’s protocol instructions. Conceivably I was arrogant, or else I had unwisely forgotten fear. Or perhaps my father was correct in advising that my naiveté would be my undoing. Though my life dangled in the balance, I betrayed no panic, for I felt none. Whatever my destiny, I had come to realize I could preside only over that which I could govern. He must have sensed this contrast to the usual court acolytes, and it had given him pause.

  His voice thundered throughout the hall: “You will be watched every moment of every day until I am satisfied that you are neither a spy nor a thief. Be gone!”

  He stepped back onto his dais and sat down.

  And so it was done. The Son of Heaven had imposed on me the same conditions as for any other new staff within the Palace. I had for now, passed heaven’s scrutiny.

  7

  The Royal Archives

  Until my arrival at the Archives, I had never witnessed disorder on such a scale. The state’s accounts were in complete disarray, and there was little method to the classification and storage of records, relics and treasures. Intricately threaded robes worn by previous kings and queens were bundled like common tunics and trousers. Seven hundred year-old vases were haphazardly stacked. Accounting tablets and paintings were heaped in piles without regard for historical period or category. What wasn’t layered in dust showed clear signs of water damage and mould. I have seen chicken coops more thoughtfully organized. This disarray supported the rumors that the previous Royal Archivist was unfit for the task, and that he had employed his mind and pocket elsewhere. Perhaps he was indeed spying for the state of Chu. The large collection of ancient records, bamboo tablets and paintings of the many gods worshipped long ago by the Shang and now by the Zhou, could not have been more chaotic if the hand of the Wind God, Feng Bo, had ripped through them. Then there were the centuries-worth of tributes and gifts from kings, nobles and sycophants thought too worthless even to merit a shelf in a far-off room within the Palace.

  The original Royal Archives had been housed within what was now the armory, but evidently knowledge and scholarly pursuit were no match for the storage of the King’s ceremonial chariots and carriages. The new Archives compound was much smaller and was part of the old servants’ quarters located in the remote southeastern corner behind the blacksmith. Altogether it was no larger than the mansion of a minor noble, but each room was bursting with history. And it had a saving grace—the adjacent courtyard garden.

  It was small but promising and had once grown vegetables. It still contained fruit trees along with numerous interesting shrubs and plants that attracted an array of birds and insects. I wanted to replicate the quietude and calm of my former life and so my first order of business—pleasure, really—was to weed the garden. The trees and shrubs also received a much-needed trim. As with my former Academy, I had limestone boulders brought in and I had two small interconnecting ponds dug and filled with fresh spring water, then stocked with goldfish and danios. While it wasn’t the Academy, I quickly replicated a harmonious balance of wood, water, stone and flora, giving me a reflective escape from the tension and demands of the Archives.

  In those first days, I reviewed my staff. Most had been friends or family members of minor officials. They handled fragile materials with the same delicacy as digging a trench. The few genuine scholars and clerks on hand were poorly-trained scribes. They lacked knowledge of the proper handling and storing of priceless and irreplaceable treasures. Moreover, their lackadaisical approach abetted thievery. I disappointed myself with how quickly I came to harbor such cynicism about my subordinates. Perhaps recent memories of Li Su’s falseness had jaded me. I so wanted to avoid a repetition and I wondered whether it was a portent of an inevitable descent into the malevolence of power of which Yi Ban had warned me.

  To resolve this, I dismissed those who tended to speak poorl
y of others or beat the commoners who provided the menial labour. One of them, Kao Shin, would become my most trusted assistant. I learned long ago that an untrained mind is more valuable than an intelligent but corrupted one. My remaining staff received daily lessons in scribing, cataloguing, storage and preservation, and also in the Way. I wanted those around me to understand not only the scope of my philosophies, but also the tempo to which it related.

  Reorganizing the Archives required fortitude. While I professed the wisdom of submitting to the unpredictable cadences of the natural world, I could not similarly allow the disorder of the Archives to persist and I did not foresee any objections to the prescribed re-organization it clearly required. The entire collection, as immense as it was, needed to be itemized and catalogued. The previous system saw items stored according to each king’s reign, but limited space had rendered the strict implementation of this impossible many years ago. I required each article to be numbered anew according to their age, then grouped by element or category—bamboo tablets with other bamboo tablets, bronze vessels with bronze vessels, tax records with tax records... I estimated this task would out-live me.

  I proposed expanding the storage space available and including rooms for quiet study and contemplation. I foresaw the collection as a bastion not only for the preservation of history but for pursuing understanding of that history. At the same time, I wished to greatly enlarge the current cellars and add cedar shelves throughout. This would allow me to secure the more delicate ceramic items in a predictable temperature, away from the ravages of sunlight and the still-unrepaired leaky roof, and with less threat of fire and pilfering. I presented the expansion plans to Yi Ban as being necessary for proper storage and growth of the materials. At first he hesitated, believing that the Royal family would only see the Archives as a repository for their own vanity. But after moderate persuasion, he came to see the wider purpose of the Archives as a hub for higher learning. He approved the expansion, but added that such an undertaking would also need the King’s approval.

  I had hoped to have as many of these changes as possible in place before a visit from the King. It was at Yi Ban’s suggestion that the King inspected my work to date before ruling on the expansion proposal.

  On the appointed afternoon, the Son of Heaven arrived and my minister Yi Ban was nowhere to be found. The King made a sweeping entrance with his sons and officials and several bodyguards. Still there was no sign of Yi Ban, who had told me he very much wanted to be present, no doubt to check my tongue and personally present the project. Along with several of my junior archivists and clerks, I dropped to my knees.

  “The Son of Heaven honors us with his presence,” I said. “Forgive me, but the Minister of Rites…”

  “Is not required,” the King interjected.

  He ignored us and walked around with the Princes, poking among the shelves and unrolling several bamboo strips sewn together with silk threads.

  “My Minister of Rites advises that I should examine the progress you have made to date, but I did not need his advice to bring me here. I am well aware that this may be a new strain on our treasury. I prefer to see this for myself without his badgering presence. Neither the future Son of Heaven nor I have ever been here, and from what I see, there is little of interest or value.”

  After only a perfunctory glance at the tablets, the King tossed them down. When he said, ‘your future Son of Heaven,’ he made no clear indication as to which of his sons he was referring to.

  “I was led to expect more,” he continued. “I was misled. Clearly I must direct my Prime Minister to restrain this project and take closer scrutiny over our state’s accounts and the treasures here.”

  “Indeed, Heavenly Father,” Prince Chao agreed. He picked up and opened a faded bamboo tablet. “Look at what an ugly being is depicted here.”

  I glanced at the tablet. The King commanded me to rise and explain it.

  “The Son of Heaven is gazing upon an image of Yu Huang, the Jade King, the Heavenly Ancestor.”

  “Why does he appear so angry?” Prince Meng asked.

  The Prince had a perfectly smooth, peach face absolutely bereft of lines or facial hair. Large, soulful eyes looked around with curiosity. His fine silk robes could not hide slight shoulders that sloped like a pigeon’s. His hands, which took the tablet from Prince Chao, were so delicate that I could not say which was more fragile, the Prince’s hands or the crumbling artifact. I answered the elder Prince’s question.

  “As the Son Of Heaven is well aware, the legend of Yu Huang tells us that he created men from the mud of the Yellow River. He left his creations in order to scold a slave who had not yet prepared his meal. With his attention diverted, the clouds unleashed their fury and rained on Yu Huang’s work. Those figures over whom he had shown greatest care had already dried before the rain. They were those in his likeness and became the nobility. Those made with greater haste but still preserved became the farmers, servants and slaves. Those made with the greatest haste which melted in the rain became people with deformities.”

  I glanced at the King to gauge his reaction, which was now attentive, as were the Princes, so I carried on.

  “Yu Huang was angry because of his carelessness, your Highness. He did not anticipate the rain.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see the King studying the painting. “How do you know he left in order to scold a servant?”

  “The Son Of Heaven surely recognizes that it is a legend only.”

  “Legend or not, you are wrong. Yu Huang was not careless. He fulfilled his duty, his servant was likely inept and required admonishment. It is one of many burdens of power. Rulers must remind subjects of their place.” The King turned to the Princes. “We make difficult decisions, even if it hurts those we serve.”

  “Only the Son of Heaven among us can appreciate the burden of governing,” I said. “Yet I believe the lesson is not the carelessness with which he may have dealt with his servant, but in misunderstanding the pulse of the Way. Had he danced with the wind, scented the air and touched the clouds, he would have easily seen the rain coming.”

  The King stared directly at me. I immediately regretted my impulsiveness. I had heard that others who had spoken out of turn as I had just done could find themselves chained to the Palace gates, but I could not allow an opportunity to correct blindness to the Way, nor misunderstandings of it. I expected the King’s next command would be to at least admonish me for my insolence. Showing impeccable timing, Prince Meng broke the silence.

  “Father, in your wisdom you have said it is a Prince’s right to question, to think critically in order to learn. If so, I would like to see more of these and study them.”

  The Prince looked at me as though seeking my permission.

  “The Son Of Heaven’s Prince is correct,” I responded. “And there is much to see. Your Highness’ collection is vast, the treasures irreplaceable and the Archives overflowing with such works of value.”

  “Study them to what purpose?” Prince Chao interjected. “Why bother? How much room do we need to store worthless old relics and tablets of numbers? This area could be used to enlarge our armory, the yard for archery practice, or even to play cuju. The men would love the additional space to kick a ball about.”

  He had the same dark eyes as Prince Meng, but they were eager and energetic, as one ready to stretch his bow to its fullest. His face was more weathered and angular than his older twin’s, his nose slightly crooked, perhaps from a break. His hands were perfectly manicured but sinewy like an archer’s. His robe was more elaborate than his brother’s, with deep red cuffs, and he wore it with purpose and confidence. The King stared at his two sons.

  “If the Son Of Heaven will allow me to speak…” I said, my head bowed, not wanting to antagonize him further.

  He grunted his consent.

  “This collection is immense. You possess original copies of t
he classics. There are four hundred years of records, from taxes collected, valuable artifacts, and treasures received. Nowhere else does such richness exist. Nowhere else does the potential to sift out a complete picture of human history possible. The correspondences and tributes alone would suffice to produce the complete annals of the Zhou dynasty. With all the evidence collected here, there can be no disputing the place the Zhou have in this world. If the Son Of Heaven would allow me to reveal but a single treasure, perhaps I can better explain.”

  The King nodded, and I directed their attention to a table where a number of small bronze animals sat. I picked one up. “If it pleases the Son Of Heaven, this horse is one of twenty-six different animals, each representing a King from the House of Zhou. Each piece has carved on its base a different King’s name, his reign and details of his glory. My research has unearthed the fact that these were a gift from a far-away kingdom. They were presented to the Son Of Heaven as playthings upon the occasion of his fifth birthday. I understand that the Son Of Heaven cut himself playing with them. Consequently the previous King deemed them unsuitable and had them placed in storage. The craftsmanship is not especially unique. But they symbolize the richness of all that we house. The one I hold before you is engraved with the Son Of Heaven’s name—King Jing, but nothing more. Its final details await your instructions.”

  I placed the bronzed horse onto its base and held it up to the King as I bowed. He inspected it, then cast his eyes onto the rest of the collection. I could hear him take a breath.

  I continued. “By comparison, my Son Of Heaven’s position in history alongside these illustrious Kings is precariously recorded and poorly stored. Our Son Of Heaven’s role cannot be properly honored and respected if these treasures are not secured properly to retain this legacy. Your deserved place within the structure of history demands more rigorous preservation. I propose to clean and polish each of these bronze animals and display them and other treasures of the House of Zhou. Visiting dignitaries and noblemen will marvel at such objects of history. Scholars will flock to study such greatness and take such knowledge back to from whence they came. The name of Zhou will become even more respected. It will be spoken of as the only living remnant of the past through the present and into days to come. You will be known as the protector of the House’s annals, and the treasures enshrined here. Though it will take some time and a necessary expense to bring order here, as your servant and Royal Archivist it is my aim and duty to make it so.”