Hui shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps the boy has a man in his life that’s more father to him now than I could ever be.”
“Your father would never allow that,” Pang said quickly.
“My father cannot be everywhere and see everything, Pang.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the unmistakable rumbling of several chariots coming up from behind. Pang turned to look at the approaching cars but Hui continued to look down on the city.
When they’d turned north from the Wei River an hour earlier Hui had sent their chariot far ahead of the five behind them. Pang had turned and waved them off when they tried to catch up, and they had obeyed, although he doubted that the officers had liked it. Still, they hadn’t slowed their pace by much, and Hui’s solitary view of the city from atop the hill wasn’t as long as he’d wanted it to be, Pang suspected.
The first of the five chariots reached the crest of the hill and circled around to come up next to them.
“Sir, we’re all here if you’re ready to enter the capital,” the officer driving the car said.
Hui nodded. “Well Pang, this is my victorious homecoming. After five years in the field, and three more small states added to Wei, they should be ringing the streets to throw flowers at my feet.”
Pang looked over at Hui and his brows knitted. Hui laughed at the puzzlement on Pang’s face and clapped him on the back.
“I’m joking, Pang. I doubt that most of the people even realize that the borders of Wei have increased, or would even care if they did. It won’t affect them any, except for possibly driving their taxes higher.”
Pang smiled and Hui picked up the reins. With a few sharp cracks across the two horse’s backs they were swiftly moving down the hill and toward the city. The shimmering of the sun on the canals increased as they drew near and Pang was forced to bring his arm up to shield his eyes, although it didn’t seem to affect Hui in the least. One of the chariots behind them rushed forward toward the gate to notify the city guards who was arriving. If Hui had wanted he could have sat atop the hill for another hour while the palace was also notified of his coming, and then many of the streets would be cleared and their path to the palace unobstructed. As it was, however, their route would be complicated at best, teeming with the carts from the countryside full of produce and the wagons of the city loaded with goods bound for far-off destinations. On top of it all would be the throngs of people that lived and worked in the city and made moving from place to place slow on a good day and downright impossible on a bad day.
The chariot ahead of them reached the gates and Pang could tell from the way the driver was shouting and pointing back that he wanted those gates open, and open now. The guard seemed to realize the man was speaking the truth, for the second large door of the gate was thrown open where before their had only been one, which was more than enough to accommodate the carts and wagons of the peasants but not the large chariots of the army.
As they got closer Pang could see that several of the city guards were scrambling atop horses, their light brown robes hiked up around their waists as they set off through the city streets toward the palace to yell at anyone and everyone to make way, someone important was coming through. Pang doubted that many people would heed the calls, but he also suspected that Hui was not going to slow their chariot much once they were through the gates. If the peasants wanted to be free of injury they’d best get out of the way.
Hui did slow their approach once they reached the gate and went through with several salutes from the guards stationed there. The constant low thrum of the chariot’s wheels on dirt that had accompanied them for the past two days was quickly replaced by the clatter of the wooden wheels skipping over the street’s stone cobbles. It created a distinctive sound, and as soon as it began heads started to turn their way. People quickly scurried to the side of the road as Hui did not slow much. The people ceased whatever business they had been about to stand and stare as the procession wound its way through the tightly-packed streets toward the palace atop the single hill of the city. Pang wondered how many of the people recognized their future ruler steering the chariot and again how many would actually care if they did. The daily lives of the common people of the city were largely unaffected by the goings-on of the royal family. Whether Wei grew larger or smaller really made no difference to them; most struggled to put food on the table each day and had done so for generations. Whether Wei was strong or weak in relation to the other Seven States was of no consequence to them.
Through the streets they wound, higher and higher as they approached the palace on the hill. The people stayed out of their way for the most part; there was only one close-call involving a small boy chasing after a dog that ran out in front of them, but thankfully both rushed out of the way just in time and were unharmed. Soon the small and tightly packed houses that made up the majority of residences in the city gave way to the larger homes of the nobility. Pang glanced behind him as they continued up the hill and saw for the first time in five years just how large the city was. He’d forgotten, he realized, as he stared down at the dozen canals winding their way along crooked and cobbled streets and the walls that seemed to stretch on for leagues around it all. Anyi was indeed a large city, one of the largest in the Seven States, and Pang would hate to think of the pains a besieging army would have to go through if they meant to take it.
The homes of the nobles grew larger and larger and then eventually gave way altogether as they neared the palace grounds. Thick stone walls rose up, slanting upward at an angle as the hill grew steeper. The gates were open to them when they got to the top of the hill and Hui drove their chariot through and into the main courtyard of the palace. Surprisingly, no one was waiting for them when they came to a stop. A few stable hands took hold of the horses and chariots when Pang and Hui debarked, but other than two guards stationed at the large doors there was no one else around.
“You men wait here, I’ll have someone show you to rooms where you can wash up and get something to eat,” Hui said to the men from the other five chariots that were standing behind him.
They nodded and Hui made his way toward the two guards at the doors. Both men threw the doors inward at his approach, and after a few words about the men behind him he and Pang were stepping into the carpeted halls.
TEN
“I don’t remember the palace ever being this empty before,” Hui said after they’d walked several yards down the main hallway, its walls lined with rich tapestries depicting the surrounding countryside in all its seasons. “Something just doesn’t feel right to me.”
“The guards at the door would have mentioned if anything was out of place,” Pang said reassuringly. “Perhaps there’s something occurring in the throne room just now that has most of the palace attendants busy.”
Hui grunted, but Pang couldn’t tell if it was an affirmation of what he’d said or not. Either way, they continued down the hallway past several side halls before coming to another large pair of double doors that Pang knew from previous visits was the entrance to the throne room. Rarely used during Marquis Wen’s time as ruler, due to his frequent visits to areas conquered by his army, the throne room was afforded much greater use during the reign of his son. Marquis Wu rarely left Anyi, and barely even ventured out of the palace. The first time Pang had met the ruler of Wei had been in the throne room when Hui had sought approval of his appointment as a general of the army. Pang remembered the man only slightly, but the one thing that stood out in his mind now was how average he had seemed. Pang had been expecting a man that would inspire confidence among his subjects and propel men to war just by his mere presence. Instead the man he was brought before reminded him more of a simple shopkeeper than the ruler of the most powerful state of the Seven States.
“No guards,” Hui said as they reached the doors and looked over at Pang.
Pang shrugged and Hui pushed one of the doors open. Inside the light from the upper windows was slanting down through the large side columns
onto an empty room, its large stone floor completely clear except for the empty throne at the far end of the room.
“Nothing and no one,” Hui said. “Obviously my father isn’t holding court today.”
Pang glanced about the room as they stood in the doorway. “It doesn’t look like court has been held in some time, judging from the amount of dust.” Pang motioned toward the floor and Hui rubbed his foot over a spot, creating a small smudge in the thin layer of dust that was there.
“That is not like my father; usually he held court at least once a week. Something is not right.”
“Many things can happen in five years, perhaps he grew tired of the constant barrage of petitioners that no doubt took up most of his time.”
Hui looked at him for several moments as if weighing his words, then stepped back out into the hallway. “We’ll head to the royal apartments; that’s the only place he could be.”
They turned back the way they had come and took one of the side halls that branched off from the main hallway. Hui led them through several more turns and then up a small staircase as if he’d never been gone from the palace a day in the past five years. Finally as they took another turn, Pang totally lost as to where they were, a man appeared, the fist they’d seen since entering the palace.
“Where is the Marquis?” Hui asked as soon as he saw the man.
The man was obviously a servant of some sort, for his robes were simple and stained, most probably from working in the kitchens. He looked frightened by the two men before him, both dusty from their long ride that day. He quickly stammered something unintelligible before Hui held up his hand. The man took a gulp and started again, much slower.
“Marquis Wu is in his bedroom, as always, sir.”
“As always? What do you mean by that?”
“Sir, the Marquis has been sick the whole of this year and much of the last. For the past several months he hasn’t left his bedchamber.”
The man looked at the two of them like they’d just wandered into the palace from somewhere far off, which was pretty much the case. Pang looked from the man to Hui and saw that his brows were knitted in confusion as he stared away. After a moment he looked back at the man and thanked him and then started down the hall again before the servant was quite sure what had happened.
“Sick,” Hui said after they’d taken yet another turn in the hallway. “Sick for more than a year and I was never told!”
“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Pang ventured, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. A sickness lasting for more than a year, and one which was now confining the Marquis to his bed, was not something minor.
Hui said nothing as they continued down the hall, their pace faster. They passed more servants; a few were carrying bowls of water or dishes, one a bowl of rags in reddish water. Hui craned his head back to take a second look at that, but quickly continued on. At last they came to another pair of large doors, this time with two guards stationed on either side with dagger-axes in their hands. Both men stood at attention when they saw who it was that was approaching. Hui didn’t stop to ask them anything before he pushed one of the doors open and entered the room, Pang close behind him. Inside the room was dark, the curtains drawn and just a few candles burning in wall sconces near the door with another single stick beside the bed. It was that candle that illuminated Marquis Wu. Pang had to squint his eyes when he saw the man, so gaunt and emaciated was his face. The face, once so average that Pang took it for the face of a shopkeeper, was a shadow of itself. The eyes were deeply sunken into their sockets and the cheekbones were so pronounced that it was amazing there was any skin on them at all. The once black beard and mustache that flowed together down to his chest were now white as ash, and atop his head the once long black hair was no more, replaced instead with wisps of white, strands no longer than Pang’s finger. What was most startling of all, however, were the lips. Marquis Wu’s entire face seemed to have taken on a white pallor, but the lips were a bright red, brighter even than many a young girl’s.
Hui started toward the bed slowly, his eyes locked on the man before him, a man that was not so much his father as a ghost. The people around the bed, whether they were servants or advisors, backed away at the son’s approach to his father. Marquis Wu gave a short cough as his son neared and moved a rag up to his mouth, a rag spotted red with blood. Pang took a few steps forward and then to the side to stand near the others that had moved away from the bed.
Hui reached the bed and stood a few paces away from his father, staring down at him. Both men looked at one another for several moments before a fit of coughing took hold of the Marquis and he pulled the bloody cloth up to his mouth. The coughing lasted several moments and strangely added some color to his face, but only for a moment before draining away again entirely to leave his face white. Marquis Wu pulled the rag away and Pang could see some fresh blood dotting his chin even from several paces away.
“Father,” Hui began slowly, “why didn’t you send word?”
“So you could leave your men in the field and rush back here to sit by my side, holding my hand and waiting for me to die?” Wu said in a voice barely more than a whisper and which everyone in the room including Hui craned to hear.
Hui seemed to be taken aback by the comment, or perhaps by the amount of life still left in the frail body before him. The man might not be strong but his words certainly were.
“A bird at least notifying me of your condition would have been the proper thing to do,” he said after a few moments.
“So that you could worry about me and what you would do with the state after I’m gone?” Wu asked before shaking his head slightly. “Your mind needed to be on the fighting, not me.”
“That fighting is done now, father. I should have been told!”
“Well now you see, and that is even better,” Wu said before another fit of coughing cut off his words.
All in the room waited, trying not to look as the ruler of Wei coughed his lifeblood up. Still, few were able to look away, either. At last the fit passed and in between deep, wheezing breaths Wu was able to get a few words out.
“The smaller states are all finished now, Hui, and the larger are positioning themselves for war.”
“I know father. Even as we speak Zhao is preparing to move against the last of the small states, Wey.”
Wu held up his hand for his son to stop. “Zhao is doing much more than that. Over the past year they’ve been moving their capital from Jinyang to Handan.”
“Handan!” Hui said in surprise. “That’s less than a day’s ride from our border.”
“And from the border of Wey,” Wu said between coughs. “But I don’t think the small state of Wey is the main reason they moved their capital.”
“They expect more fighting once Wey is finished,” Hui said, “fighting between the Seven.”
“But who will start it, Hui?” Wu asked, and even from his distance Pang could see the deeply set eyes boring into Hui. “All are still held by the peace that was signed nearly twenty years ago. Not once in that time has it been broken.”
“There are a few rulers not held by that peace,” Hui said. “Marquis Wen of Han and Duke Fei of Qi being the main two.”
“Duke Fei is closer to death than I,” Wu said. “His son Yinqi has already proclaimed himself king, King Wei of Qi.” Wu began coughing again but it was only for a few moments this time, but still his rag had a few new splotches of blood on it. “And for several years now Qin has not been held by the peace, not since Duke Xian came into power.”
“Qin is nothing,” Hui said quickly and in a mocking tone.
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss Qin,” Wu said loudly, more loudly than Pang thought the dying man capable of. “Do you remember that young student of Liu Kui’s by chance?” When Hui shook his head Wu continued. “Wei Yang his name was. It seems that when he left Wei after my father died he managed to find his way to Qin and take up service there. He calls himself Shang Yang now and the changes that
he’s implemented there are not to be taken lightly.”
Hui shook his head as if to dismiss the talk of a state he knew could never be a threat and didn’t want to waste time discussing. “Father, Zhao will move against Wey and many think we should try and stop them.”
“Move against Zhao? Break the peace? No, Hui, we cannot do that.”
“But father, if–”
Hui’s words were broken off by another fit of coughing from Marquis Wu. This one was more violent than any of the previous fits and Wu’s face became nearly as red as the rag he held to his mouth. It went on and on and several servants rushed to his side to do what they could to ease his suffering, which wasn’t much. Finally after what seemed an eternity, and when everyone besides the two servants had backed away from the bed, the coughing died away and Marquis Wu rested peacefully, his eyes closed. Hui slowly moved closer to the bed and the two servants seeing to his father.
“Is he…?” He began in a quite voice.
“No, only sleeping,” one of the women said. “Often now he will cough himself unconscious. It’s not easy to tell, but you can see his chest moving slightly.”
Hui looked down at the thin blanket covering his father and could just discern a slight movement beneath.
“One of these days he’ll cough himself to death,” a man’s voice said loudly from the far wall.
Hui squinted into the blackness of that side of the room but could see nothing.
“One of these days he’ll cough you right onto the throne of Wei,” the voice said again, closer this time.
From the shadows stepped a man, his hair, beard, and mustache as white as could be and his robes the deepest black. Hui recognized him immediately as his grandfather’s and then his father’s Minister of War, Zhai Huang.
“And one of these days is not far off,” Zhai said as he came up on the opposite side of the bed from Hui to look down at Wu breathing faintly before turning his gaze to Hui. “Will you be ready when that time comes?”
The Warring States, Books 1-3 Page 47
