Well, now they would know. He would put an end to all speculation.
"Ch'un tzul" he began, his voice resonant, powerful. "I have summoned you here today because we face a crisis—perhaps the greatest crisis the Families have ever faced."
Li Yuan looked across the sea of lowered heads, aware of the power he exercized over these men, but conscious also of what that power rested upon. They obeyed him because they had agreed among themselves to obey him. Take away that agreement—that mandate—and what followed?
He took a breath, then continued.
"More than fifty of our number are dead. Another three hundred, I am told, are sick or close to death. And the cause of this mysterious illness? Something we thought we had rid ourselves of long ago—yang mei ping. Willow-plum sickness!"
There was a murmur of surprise and a number of heads moved agitatedly, but as yet no one dared meet his eyes. He moved on, keeping his voice calm, letting the authority of his position fill his words.
"In the past, I am told, the disease would have killed only after long months of suffering, leading to blindness and eventual madness, but this is a new, more virulent strain—one that our Families are no longer immune to. It is a brain-killer. It can strike down a healthy man—or woman—in less than thirty hours; although, as is the way of such diseases, not all succumb immediately to the virus but become carriers. That, in itself, is horrible enough; but this strain, it seems, is particularly j vile, for it is racially specific. It affects only us Han."
Shocked faces were looking up at him now, forgetting all propriety. Deliberately' ignoring this lapse, Li Yuan pressed on, saying what must be said.
"Such are the facts. What we must now ask ourselves is what are we to do to combat this disease? There is no cure, nor is there time to find one. No cure, that is, but the most drastic of preventive measures."
Hsiang Shao-erh looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, deeply suspicious. "What do you mean, Chieh Hsia?"
Li Yuan met the older man's gaze firmly. "I mean that we must test everyone in this hall. Wives and children too. And then we must find those outside the Families—men or women—who have been in contact with anyone from the Families."
"In contact, Chieh Hsial"
The words were framed politely, but he noted Hsiang's hostility. Hsiang had already lost his oldest son to the virus and it was clear that he saw the drift of Li Yuan's speech.
He answered unflinchingly. "In sexual contact. How else do you think the disease was spread?"
Again he felt the ripples of shock pass through the Hall. Despite his reference to willow-plum sickness, many had simply not understood until that moment. A low buzz ran from one end of the hall to the other.
"But surely, Chieh Hsia—?"
Li Yuan cut Hsiang off sharply, his patience snapping. "Silence! All of you, be silent now! I have not finished."
The hall fell silent, heads were lowered again; but only a pace or so from him, Hsiang glared back at him, bristling with anger. Li Yuan looked past him, addressing the great mass.
"We must test everyone. We must track down every last victim—especially the carriers—of this disease."
"And then?" The voice was Hsiang Shao-erh's. Stubborn, defiant.
Li Yuan looked back at him. "And then they must die."
The hall erupted. Li Yuan looked out across the seething crowd, seeing the angry opposition—but also the strong agreement—his words had engendered. Arguments raged on every side. Just beneath him, Hsiang Shao-erh and An Sheng were protesting loudly, their arms gesticulating, their faces dark with anger; while Yin Tsu and Pei Ro-han attempted to remonstrate with them. For a while he let it go on, knowing that this violent flood of feelings must be allowed its channel, then he raised one hand, palm outward. Slowly the Hall fell silent again.
He looked down at Hsiang Shao-erh. "You wish to say something, Cousin?"
Hsiang took a pace forward, placing one foot on the first step of the High Throne, seeming almost to threaten his T'ang. He spat the words out angrily.
"I protest, Chieh Hsia! You cannot do this! We are Family, not hsioo jenl Never in our history have we been subjected to such humiliation! To make us take this test of yours would be to undermine our word, our honor as ch'un tzul Why, it is tantamount to saying that we are all fornicators and unfaithful to our wives!"
Li Yuan shook his head. "And the deaths? The spread of the disease? Are these things mere ghosts and idle rumors?"
"There are a few, I admit. Young bucks . . . but even so—"
"A few!" Li Yuan spat the words back angrily, almost contemptuously, taking a step forward, almost pushing his face into Hsiang's, forcing him to take a step back.
"You are a fool, Hsiang, to think of face at such a time! Do you really believe I would do this if it were not necessary? Do you think I would risk damaging my relationship with you, my cousins, if there were not some far greater threat?"
Hsiang opened his mouth, then closed it again, taken aback by the unexpected violence of Li Yuan's counterattack.
"This is a war," Li Yuan said, looking past him again, addressing the massed sons and cousins. "And upon its outcome depends how Chung Kuo will be in years to come. Whether there will be good, stable rule—the rule of Seven and Twenty-Nine—or chaos. To think that we can fight such a war without losses—without sacrifices—is both ridiculous and untenable."
He looked back directly at Hsiang. "Do not mistake me, Hsiang Shao-erh. Face, honor, a man's word—these are the very things that bind our society in times of peace, and I would defend them before any man. Yet in times of war we must let go sometimes of our high ideals, if but briefly. We must bow, like the reeds before the wind, or go down, like a great tree in a storm."
Hsiang lowered his eyes. "Chieh Hsia . . ."
"Good. Then you will sign the paper, Hsiang Shao-erh?"
Hsiang looked up again. "The paper?"
Nan Ho brought the scroll across. Li Yuan turned, offering it to Hsiang. "Here. I have prepared a document. I would not have it said that the compact between Seven and Twenty-Nine was broken. There must be agreement between us, even in this matter."
Li Yuan held the document out toward Hsiang Shao-erh. As his father had, so he now seemed the very embodiment of imperial power; unyielding, like the famous rock in the Yellow River that, for centuries, had withstood the greatest of floods.
Hsiang stared at the scroll, then looked up at his T'ang, his voice smaller suddenly, more querulous. "And if any here refuse?"
Li Yuan did not hesitate. "Then the compact is ended, the Great Wheel broken."
Hsiang shuddered. For a moment longer he stood there, hesitant, staring at the document. Then, suddenly, he lowered his head. "Very well, Chieh Hsia. I will sign."
AFTERWARD, while the Families were lining up to be tested, Nan Ho went to Li Yuan in his study.
"Forgive me, Chieh Hsia," he said, bowing low, "but I did not understand. Why did Hsiang Shao-erh oppose you just now? I would have thought, with his eldest son dead, he would have been the first to sanction your actions—to prevent the deaths of more of his sons."
Li Yuan sighed. "So it would have been, I'm sure, Master Nan, but the chao tai hut where the sickness was originally spread, was held on Hsiang's estate. Oh, he had nothing to do with the organization of the affair—that was all his son K'ai Fan's doing—nor was Hsiang Shao-erh responsible for the sickness itself. However, he feels responsible. Many among the Twenty-Nine blame him, irrational as that is. As a consequence he has lost great face. That display today was an attempt to regain his face. Unfortunately, I could not allow it. Now, I am afraid, I have made an enemy."