She patted Winter Cherry’s shoulder again, and Winter Cherry’s sobs became less noisy.
After a little, they stopped.
Father Peng, General Tung, the Captain of the Guard, Peng Yeh and Ah Lai sat eating with the disquiet of men who know that knowledge is not shared between them.
Father Peng held out his rice-bowl and observed: “Mencius said that the good man is not mean to his parents. My rice-bowl is empty.”
Peng Yeh apologised and filled it. “A man’s duty,” he said, “is first to his family, then to his Emperor. If I have extended too much care to the second, I beg the first, in your person, my father, to forgive me.”
General Tung and the Captain conversed in low tones. Ah Lai could catch only snatches of their talk, so he edged imperceptibly nearer to listen.
“What was I to do with the impertinent fellow?” the Captain was asking. “If the Kingdom is, indeed, governed by eunuchs and the women of the palace, what is that to him? He gets his pay.”
Tung observed: “Punishment for such indiscipline would seem essential, if the remainder are to be loyal. For if one question the ultimate authority, the others cannot, seeing him unpunished, be relied on. I know that you are short of men—that every soldier is precious. But soldiers are of no use unless they obey unquestioningly. This man should die, as an example to the others. I see no other way. Better to have ten trustworthy men than ten thousand forever wondering if you have given the wise order.”
The Captain said: “To-morrow.”
General Tung replied: “No. To-day. But come—let us ask the opinion of one who has seen many more moons than we, whose judgment will thereby be the sounder. You agree to abide by his decision?” As the Captain nodded, General Tung went on, addressing Father Peng: “Sir, I beg to submit a question for your decision. Will you favour us?”
Father Peng said: “I must know all the circumstances. To see a stone in a brook is not to know the brook: to know the brook only, is to be ignorant of the ocean. What is your problem?” He sat up straight on his stool. “When I was sub-prefect at Hwa Lu, I had often to solve problems.”
General Tung said: “I should have guessed that you had exercised government, but I confess that our present troubles had put reasonable thought from my head. So a man who is ill forgets his manners. The State is ill. Our problem is this. One of the guard said to his captain that since the Empire is governed by eunuchs and the women of the palace, he did not see why he should sacrifice his life to save these irresponsible rulers.”
Father Peng pondered. Then he said: “You have not told me all. Such an attitude on the part of a common soldier implies either madness or a long period of misgovernment on the part of his superiors. As to the charge which the man made, that does not concern him. It concerns his superiors. But it would be best to have the man here, in order to question him.”
The Captain went to the door, opened it and called. Then he came back and sat down.
Father Peng said: “I have been remembering the advice which the philosopher Mencius gave, when King Seuen came to him with a similar question. Something like this: ‘When your intimates say that a man deserves to die, shut your ears. When your high officials say it, shut your ears. But if the common people say it, see the man, judge his case, and (if he merits it) execute him. This is the origin of the saying that a man should only be killed by the people.’ You see? Ah, this is the man?”
One of the guards entered, with two more behind him. He was unarmed. He bowed to Father Peng.
“To an old man, courtesy,” he said.
The Captain ordered: “Repeat what you said this morning.”
The man began: “My name is Seuen. . . .”
Father Peng whispered: “A coincidence!”
The man continued: “. . . and I have been in the Guard for ten years. When I first served, all was well in the State. Peace at home vied with the reputation for military skill over the borders.”
“He talks well,” Father Peng said. “Go on.”
“At this time,” Seuen went on, “the Emperor”—they rose and bowed—“held his court at dawn. Then Yang Kuei-fei came, and there was no more dawn court. The schools and libraries which the Emperor had ordained languished because he took no further interest in them. It was then that the men of the Guard began to talk politics. Everyone talked politics. The eunuchs gained power. You could get anything by paying money. And now, Chang-an is in the hands of the rebels and we guard this woman as she takes the Emperor away to safety. It is not a man’s empire that we have now. That is why, this morning, I questioned an order. That is all which I have to say.”
Father Peng said: “We are told by the Master not to underrate a man because of his words nor to hold what he says in small esteem because it is he who says it. Nevertheless I think that it must be pointed out that in thus voicing your opinions on politics you are stepping outside your trade. In spite of the modern carelessness of thought it yet remains true that every building starts from the ground, and therefore I would contend that before you are qualified to speak of the influence, Imperial or otherwise, of Court ladies and of eunuchs, you must prove your ability by demonstrating the soundness of your acquaintance with the art peculiar to the soldier, I refer, of course, to tactics.” He raised an eyebrow in the direction of General Tung and the Captain, and was rewarded by gestures of assent.
“There is no fault to be found with your contention,” the General agreed, “in so far as I am qualified to judge.”
The Captain said: “Yes.”
Seuen complained: “It was ever so. A man of the people, like myself, dares to take the liberty of thinking, only to find himself enmeshed in a net of words which render him helpless as a trapped duck. What you have said, sir, is made of beautiful sounds, of echoes from the past, and of quotations from great men. In this net I am not able to move. But if you feel it necessary to award to me the punishment of listening to these words, I am very grateful.”
Father Peng said: “If that is so, do not talk but listen.” Linking actions with his words, he continued: “These chopsticks which I lay here represent a ridge. This sauce-holder at the northern end of the ridge, represents an enemy city. The magistrate of this city has put his troops, these melon-seeds, astride the ridge south of the city. Here. Your commander has twice as many melon-seeds, archers, cavalry and footmen, who have just reached the southern end of this ridge, thus. What would you expect your commander to do?”
Seuen replied, hesitantly: “I cannot decide.”
Father Peng enquired softly: “And why?”
Seuen was silent.
The Captain observed: “I should not expect my men to be able to answer such a question.”
General Tung asked Seuen: “Can you answer this question?”
Seuen replied: “I can give an answer to the question, but I have no means of knowing whether my answer would be judged correct.”
Father Peng observed, apparently addressing himself to a silk scroll on the wall above Seuen’s head, and very much to the latter’s embarrassment: “When I had command of men I first read such books of military history as my circumstances permitted. I then sought information and advice from such of my friends as had studied the art. When I had gained this objective, I took with me a small number of men and moved them about the country, imagining always that their passage was prevented or imperilled by the wisdom of an enemy commander superior to me in all but fortune. Only then did I dare to engage my men in real combat. The Master has said that to lead an untrained force into action is equivalent to throwing them away. The word ‘untrained’ applies reasonably to commander as to soldier. The duty of the commander is to command, while that of the soldier is . . .” He stopped, then said suddenly: “What is a soldier’s duty?”