Bei looked Wen up and down for a moment then folded his arms in front of his chest, the long arms of his robes nearly touching the floor.
“Marquis Wen, let me be the first to congratulate you here tonight on your dual victories in Zhongshan and in the Xihe area of Qin.”
Wen bowed his head at the remark and genuinely smiled for the first time that evening.
“Thank you very much, Marquis Bei.” Wen folded is own arms in front of himself and leaned back to study Bei for a moment. “Tell me, Marquis Bei, how goes your fight against the barbarians to your north?”
Bei peered down at the floor and shook his head before meeting Wen’s eyes once again. “It’s a never-ending struggle. One year we raid them and the next year they raid us, each time from a different location, each time with a different leader.”
“The new wall that you’re constructing along the most troublesome spots on your border should help,” Wen said.
Bei’s eyes narrowed in surprise for just a moment before he masked his face once again. “That is correct. Already we’ve been able to fend off the barbarian attacks from on high, twice winning battles without a single loss of life on our own side.”
“That is impressive,” Wen said truthfully.
“How long did it take to construct the new defensive fortifications?” Zhai asked, moving up suddenly next to Wen.
Bei glanced from Zhai to Wen then back to Zhai before he answered.
“Several months in each location, I’m afraid. It really tied up our resources, but it was worth it.”
Zhai stepped in closer so that he was nearly blocking Bei’s view of Wen. “And the barbarians gave your workers no trouble.”
“They did at first, but then…”
Bei’s voice faded as Wen moved away. He made a mental note to thank Zhai later for his timely interruption. From reports he’d received on Bei in the past he knew that the man could talk endlessly, and the last thing he wanted was to be seen talking to the Marquis of Yan all evening long.
He stepped further into the crowd of advisors and military officials from the various states, talking with no one as his eyes scanned the Hall. After a few moments Liu was beside him and nodding toward a distant figure on the other side of the Hall.
“Duke Kang has been speaking with Marquis Dao of Chu since he arrived here,” Liu said. “Marquis Jing just a few minutes ago approached Marquis Dao to introduce himself, but Kang brusquely ended the encounter soon after it began.”
“It seems he wants the Marquis all to himself,” Wen said as he stared at the ruler of the State of Chu.
Dao’s dark grey robes matched his dark grey hair, which was left loose and flowed down past his shoulders. The white sash that tied his robes matched his large, bushy white eyebrows which nearly hid his piercing brown eyes from even the closest observers. Those brown eyes were staring out at the crowd of people milling about the Hall while he listened to Kang droning on beside him, nodding occasionally, but to all appearances wishing he hadn’t been trapped by his northern neighbor.
“Perhaps Kang is hoping to elicit more support in his fight against House Tian,” Liu said.
“Let us find out,” Wen said as he stepped past Liu and headed through the people toward where both Kang and Dao were standing.
As Wen threaded through the crowd and got closer to the two rulers he saw that Dao noticed him first. To Wen it seemed as though the Marquis visibly relaxed at his appearance, perhaps relieved for someone else to put their voice forth. When Kang noticed Wen, however, Wen could see his eyes narrow and his body became rigid. He stopped speaking as Wen stepped in front of the two.
“Marquis Dao,” Wen began, “it’s good to finally meet you. I never had the honor of meeting your father, but I knew your grandfather, Marquis Jian, quite well.”
“He always spoke highly of you, Marquis Wen,” Dao replied with a smile.
“I was sorry when he died, although he’d certainly lived a good, long life.”
“Not as long as his father before him,” Dao replied.
Wen smiled. “Yes, many can hope to rule for more than fifty years, but few can actually do it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Wen,” Kang said. “You’re well on your way.”
Wen shook his head. “I’m not there yet.”
“You also knew my great-grandfather quite well, didn’t you?” Dao asked, his tone curious.
“Yes, Marquis Wei was known to me, although we never had the relationship that he and my father had.”
Dao nodded but said nothing else. A few moments passed in a tense silence as the three men looked at one another. Dao for some reason seemed reticent to speak, Wen noticed, while Kang looked as though he was simply waiting for Wen to walk away as Jing had done a few minutes before. Wen wouldn’t be cowed by the ruler of Qi, however, and pressed on despite the sudden awkwardness of the meeting.
“I don’t see Marquis Yi here,” he said. “Was Yue not invited to Luoyang?”
“You know full-well that only the Seven States are attending,” Kang said icily.
“I spoke by message with Marquis Yi shortly before I left Danyang,” Dao said, ignoring Kang’s comment completely. “He wished me well at this meeting and gave no indication that he was upset at not having been invited.”
“Yue is one of the strongest states in the country right now,” Wen said, “stronger even than many of the Seven.”
Wen looked right at Kang with his last remark and saw Kang’s eyes narrow even further. The man truly was beginning to hate Wen, but instead of feeling any kind of threat from the man, Wen only felt indifference.
“They’ve done nothing substantial since they defeated the State of Wu nearly eighty years ago,” Kang said.
He did well to keep the anger he must have been feeling from his voice, Wen noticed.
“Well, Chu has done nothing for just as long,” Wen ventured, knowing full well that he was now treading on perilous ground, “but you don’t hear talk that they’re a weak state.”
Wen looked at Dao but saw no change in his countenance at the wildly false remark. All in the Seven States, and most in the smaller states, knew full-well that Chu was so bogged-down by its massive bureaucracy that it couldn’t act if it wanted to.
“The past fifty years has been a time of peace among the Seven States, and I think it should remain that way,” Dao said solemnly.
Wen nodded. “A wise sentiment indeed, and one that King Weilie will be happy to hear. One of the reasons he’s called us all together is to strengthen the bonds of friendship between us.”
Wen noticed Kang roll his eyes at that, but he said nothing, and the conversation lulled once again. Instead of trying to resume it, Wen bowed and took a step back.
“I’ll leave you two men alone now,” he said. “I just wanted to formally introduce myself to you. Marquis Dao, Duke Kang.” He took another step back, bowed, and then turned and headed back into the crowd. After a few steps Liu was once again at his side.
“What do you think,” he asked in a hushed voice.
“He has wisdom beyond his years,” Wen answered. “It’s a shame that his father and grandfather left him with such a sorry state of affairs.”
“It’ll be difficult to extricate Chu from its massive bureaucratic mess,” Liu said.
“If not impossible,” Wen said. “Dao mentioned that he spoke with Marquis Yi of Yue before he left for Luoyang, and that Yi was cordial.” Wen stopped and turned to face Liu. “Tell me, Liu, why is it that Yue hasn’t yet invaded Chu?”
Liu took a deep breath and let it out as his eyes stared up at the ceiling in thought.
“Many reasons,” he said after a few moments, “not the least of which is that Chu is one of the Seven States and Yue is not.”
“That hasn’t stopped other upstarts from attacking larger states before,” Wen pointed out.
“No, it has not, but the whole reason that Yue has the position that it does today is because of Chu.”
Wen nodded. “They never would’ve been allowed to grow as strong as they have without the support of Chu.”
“Chu needed a counterweight to the threat it was feeling from Wu. When Yue conquered Wu seventy years ago that counterweight was gone. Yue has bided its time since then, taking its cues from Chu.”
“Cues which haven’t come,” Wen said.
“It’s hard to tell what Marquis Yi is thinking,” Liu admitted, “and I doubt that Marquis Dao will reveal the true situation to anyone here.”
Wen nodded and then turned away from his advisor. He started scanning the Hall once again.
“Now, if I can just have a few words with Duke Jian of Qin I’ll have spoken with everyone.”
“He was over near the wall speaking with Marquis Lie a few minutes ago,” Liu said, pointing toward the eastern wall of the circular hall.
“I don’t see him,” Wen said.
Liu looked around, his face taking on a puzzled expression. “Nor do I. Could he have stepped outside?”
“Not likely. King Weilie will arrive any minute and no one would leave without seeing him first.”
“He must be here somewhere, I-”
“Marquis Wen,” came a voice from behind them, cutting Liu off.
Both men spun around to see Duke Jian standing behind them, his flowing white robes hanging loosely on his body. He was taller than most of the other rulers that Wen had spoken with, his long black hair braided in a queue down his back. His long black mustache flowed down into his beard which flowed down to his chest and was oiled to end in two points. While oils and dyes might have been applied to his hair, making him appear younger from a distance, the sunken eyes set deeply into his lined and tired face belied his true age.
“Duke Jian,” Wen said in surprise, “I was just looking for you!”
Jian smiled. “I feel honored to hear you say that, Marquis Wen.”
If Jian was at all angry over the Xihe area that’d recently been conquered on Wen’s orders by General Wu Qi, he gave no indication.
“How are you, Jian. It’s been several years since we last saw one another,” Wen said.
“Ten, to be exact,” Jian replied. “And to answer your question, I’m about the same as I was the last time you saw me, although certainly feeling my age a bit more.”
Wen nodded. Duke Jian was certainly one of the oldest rulers in all the Seven States, although he’d not been ruling long, only fifteen years. Wen had last seen him when they’d agreed to meet in a small town on the border between their two states. Wen had called the meeting, hoping to persuade Jian to give up the Xihe area in exchange for support against the Rong Tribes that Qin was then subduing to the west. Jian had refused the offer, although both men left on good terms. It wasn’t until five years later that Wen decided to go ahead and invade the Xihe area despite Jian. Wen had rationalized his decision on the basis that Xihe had historically been an area of contention between Chu and Jin, having passed back and forth over the generations countless times so that the people there were an even mix from both states. While Jian had sent in troops to fight against Wu Qi’s armies, neither man had sent a single message to the other in the whole five-year long fight.
“I thought that I’d have at least received a message from you at some point over the past five years,” Wen said after a moment.
Jian shook his head and looked away for a moment. “There was little need. Words wouldn’t have curbed your appetite for territory, and my response would have been the same as at our first meeting.”
Wen frowned. “Many lives could have been saved on both sides if we’d settled things diplomatically.”
A slight smile appeared on Jian’s face at that comment.
“Did you give Duke Wu the chance to settle things diplomatically before you flooded Zhongshan?”
“I gave him many chances,” Wen replied firmly. “He made it clear that he would not negotiate.”
“All who come up against Wei are given only one choice in your negotiations, Wen,” Jian said. “Either they capitulate and give in to Wei’s demands or they’re crushed. Rarely do you experience defeat, so you have no inkling of what it feels like to be on the losing side.”
“And what does it feel like?” Wen said, his anger rising at Jian’s words.
Jian waved his hand in the air, dismissing the comment.
“The Xihe area is better in your hands than in mine,” he said. “The area wasn’t as easily defensible as my territories further inland, and besides, the farther away I am from the other Seven States the safer I feel.”
“That didn’t keep you from fighting over it for five long years,” Wen said.
Jian raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “I don’t like to give up something for nothing.”
“I think that you’re acting like the loss was nothing to concern yourself with,” Wen said, “when in fact you feel that loss quite substantially. It hurts, doesn’t it Jian, knowing that you’re the weakest of the Seven, and with no hope of bettering your situation?”
Jian gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his side, but said nothing.
“And you know too,” Wen continued, “that at some point one of the other states, perhaps even a smaller one, will eventually grow tired of your weak status and invade, and Qin will be nothing more than a faint and distant memory, a lesson of what a ruler should not do.”
Wen’s heart was racing as he finished his tirade, but instead of feeling relief he just felt more anger and frustration. It’d not been his intention to confront Jian when he’d seeking him out; it was just something in the man’s countenance and refusal to be sorry for his recent losses of territory that had caused Wen to go off. Even now Jian just stood in front of him, a bit perturbed, but still holding that same air of superiority about him when all in the room knew that it was a façade.
“Well, then, Wen,” Jian said after a few moments had passed, “it’s lucky for me that King Weilie will insist upon peace between all of the Seven States, isn’t it?”
Wen nodded. “Lucky indeed.”
“Have a pleasant stay in Luoyang,” Jian said with a slight bow.
“You as well,” Wen replied with a similar bow.
The two men eyed one another for a moment longer before Wen turned away and headed back into the crowd of rulers, heirs, and advisors.
“I can’t believe him!” Wen said as quietly as he could to Liu beside him when they were away from Jian. “He acts as though the loss of Xihe was exactly what he wanted!”
“Perhaps by discounting the Xihe area he views himself as aloof from the affairs of the other states,” Liu ventured. “Qin has been extending its territory westward for nearly two centuries; the loss of Xihe to him means that there will be more troops available to continue that expansion.”
“If that was the case then why’d he fight me for five years over land he didn’t want in the first place?”
Liu shook his head. “It’s hard to say what’s going on inside another man’s head. There is always the chance, however remote, that he had an agreement with another ruler to fight you as long as possible, tying up forces that you yourself could have used against another state.”
“What other state would I have attacked?” Wen scoffed. “And which of the rulers here tonight would lower himself by allying with the weakest of the Seven States?”
“Perhaps it wasn’t one of the Seven but one of the smaller states,” Liu said. “Jian is in such a position that he cannot expect much support from his counterparts among the Seven, but instead has to seek out support among the upstart states that want to become one of the Seven some day.”
Wen chuckled to himself. “If that’s the case than Qin is truly in a far-worse position than I’d realized. The day that I begin allying myself with smaller states is the day Wei is finished.”
“Perhaps that’s the only way that Jian can see for Qin to continue,” Liu said, then waved his hand in the air. “But this is all conjecture; we’ll probably never k
now what is motivating Jian to act the way he does.”
“And I’d rather not spend any more time this evening thinking about it,” Wen said before stopping and holding his arms out in front of him. “I see you’ve escaped from the clutches of Bei,” he said with a laugh.
Zhai nodded as he approached. “Only after every possible avenue of conversation was exhausted, even the weather!”
Wen laughed again. “That one can sure talk. I thank you, Zhai, for saving me from that cruel fate.”
“What is a Minister of War for but to save his ruler from his enemies?”
Wen clapped Zhai on the shoulder. “Good attitude, my friend.”
The crowd began to grow quiet as most of the lanterns in the Hall were extinguished. Several white-robed men were moving into the Hall from both the north and south entryways and they dispersed around the circular wall. Others moved into the crowd and began instructing the people to move into a circular formation, which they began to do slowly. It took several minutes but soon all the men were standing in a circle a few feet from the walls, the white-robed attendants standing in a larger circle behind them.
A large gong was struck somewhere outside the Hall and all eyes went to the north entrance in anticipation of King Weilie’s arrival. The gong was struck again, and then once more before a white-robed figure appeared at the south entrance, a bright purple sash tied tight about his waist. In his hands he held several clay tablets, large rectangular objects that were so large he had to prop them against his upper arms as he carried them. These were the Spirit Tablets, the men knew, taken from the Imperial Vault of Heaven for just this occasion. A slight murmur arose among the rulers and their retinues, and all knew that King Weilie had arrived and the ceremony begun.
Three more white-robed men came into the Hall behind King Weilie, each pulling a rope tied to a wheeled-cart. Atop the cart sat a large iron cauldron with three legs. It was about half the height of a man, and from the way that the three men strained against the rope, it must have weighed several tons.
“One of the tripod cauldrons!” Wen said quietly to Wu beside him.
The Warring States, Books 1-3 Page 22
