LA SEGURIDAD Y ESCOLTA DEL PERSONAL Y CONVOYES HUMANITARIOS

The afternoon couldn’t have been busier for everybody in the city of West Peace. In town, merchants pried boards off of shop windows when the word quickly spread that they were safe from barbarian raids. The drinking houses and entertainers prepared for a citywide victory celebration to welcome the soldiers back when they returned later from clearing the plains.

Every available soldier worked out on the plains all afternoon. They gathered and burned the enemy corpses and their dead horses. Horses with injuries too severe to heal were slaughtered for meat. Other soldiers led the few barbarian horses that were still in good shape back to the palace cavalry yards. Most of the weapons strewn across the field looked crude compared to their own, but they collected them nonetheless. The valuable metal could be melted down and retooled later.

generals, supervised the scavenger mission. Literally hundreds of dead northerners lay strewn in pieces across the plain. Hwang Yi had seen many battle scenes in his life, but this was by far the most haunting for him. Although the bodies were twisted and mutilated, not one weapon had been drawn against them. The thought gave him chills. He couldn’t imagine facing an enemy like the wind where a man couldn’t even defend himself with his sword.

A line of soldiers stretched across the road to hold back would-be looters. Many villagers wanted to help themselves from the stolen treasure that covered the plains like a carpet. Without the soldiers holding them back, the situation would have turned into a free-for-all.

Hwang Yi had a better idea. Hwang Yi instructed a young captain to have all interested villagers form a line. He conscripted each willing worker for a wage of one-tenth the value of whatever they gathered. When someone had gathered all they could carry, they turned it in at a special post where wagons lined up to haul the goods back to the palace treasury for sorting. Military scribes kept a

ledger for each villager’s work on a plank of wood. Hwang Yi announced that the citizen workers could report to the treasury three days hence to collect their ten percent share in either gold or supplies. Some people groused at the arrangement, but they realized that with so much treasure to gather, everyone stood to earn a handsome profit. Less than honest folk slipped a coin or ring into their shoe just to be sure.

Back at the palace, not one person sat still. Butchers carefully selected and slaughtered the animals chosen for the evening feast. A few cooks collected vegetables and spices from the palace storehouses. Others shouted orders at the kitchen help to fill pots with water and large pans with oil. The house servants scoured and polished every surface, while others decorated the corridors and main hall in anticipation of guests.

Zhu Xiao Hua, KoWu’s wife, sent her attendants to convey personal invi-tations to the town’s elite to join the palace banquet. KoWu made sure he invited any foreign dignitaries staying in town as well.

Back in the stone cottage next to the stable, KoYou swept out the fire pit and stacked pieces of wood in the shallow stove so that Laotzu could start a fire. While he swept the hearth, Dai Dong, his father’s valet, knocked on the door.

“Excuse me, Master Laotzu,” bowed Dai Dong to the sage resting on the bed, “but the prince sends me to ask if you will need any special arrangements for your teaching this evening?”

“Come in, come in,” beckoned Laotzu.

Dai Dong lifted his robe off the dirt floor and stood stiffly in the corner. When he noticed KoYou over by the fire pit, he bowed out of force of habit. When Laotzu turned his back, KoYou held his finger to his pursed lips and then waved it back and forth to warn Dai Dong not to bow.

At first Dai Dong wondered why the young prince would disguise his identity, but then he remembered the boy’s penchant for playing practical jokes. “Master, would you be needing any special food or drink? Any special attendants during this evening’s

talk?” Dai Dong asked the sage.

“Well,” thought Laotzu, “now that I think of it, I usually teach my students in an outdoor courtyard. But since it is cold, we’ll be indoors. Hmmm...” “Is that a problem sir?” the valet inquired.

“Well it’s just that sometimes I like to draw pictures in the dirt to help me explain things, and if we’re indoors...”

“Oh that’s no problem Master!” KoYou interrupted. “My fa... I mean the prince always draws pictures with his generals when they plan their war strategies. All they do is fill a wood frame on the floor with sand. Then they use a long bamboo twig to trace their plans. Uh, at least that’s what I hear.” “Yes,” Laotzu looked at KoYou. “Young boys like you are always interested in armies and generals aren’t they? Very well, if the prince has such a contraption, can we have one where we gather?” “It shall be done. Will there be anything else sir?” asked Dai Dong.

“When shall we arrive?” asked Laotzu. “Dinner will be served after sunset.” “Can I come along then?” asked KoYou.

Dai Dong’s face grew smug. “Well, servants will have to stand in the back and not disturb the guests.”

KoYou knew the valet enjoyed the fact that the prince’s son was now, for all practical purposes, a servant. KoYou had played plenty of practical jokes on Dai Dong over the years. Dai Dong was so high-strung and predictable. He made an easy target.

“Good!” clapped Laotzu. “Then at least my young friend Chian can keep an eye on me.”

Dai Dong bowed his farewell to the sage, and almost bowed to KoYou before he caught himself. Armed with the sage’s requests for the evening, Dai Dong excused himself and walked briskly back to the palace, where the staff required his direction. Through the stable and across the courtyard, Dai

Dong stopped first at the palace records room. Record keeper Wei Lon met him in the doorway. “How may we serve you today?” asked Wei Lon. “I need Pen Hei,” ordered Dai Dong. Pen Hei was the chief scribe. The prince made it clear that the scribe must record each of the nine nights’ teachings so that all of Laotzu’s wisdom could be preserved.

In these ancient days, before Asia knew of parchment or paper, writing or drawing was a laborious process. Writing entailed carving with sharp knives vertically into long strips of bamboo. The elite often employed specially trained scribes. Once the scribes completed their etchings, they strung the bamboo strips side by side on a rope and hung them between two posts to read. This is why the Chinese, even today, still read and write in vertical columns.

To illustrate important points while teaching, or to diagram military strategies, generals and teachers sometimes used twigs to trace in the dirt or a tray of sand to illustrate important points.

“Pen Hei already heard about the guest Laotzu. He has gone to the marketplace to purchase extra bamboo so that we will have enough to record each of the nine nights,” Wei Lon answered.

“Good. The prince wants Pen Hei to know that the sage’s words must be his top priority. If Pen Hei is behind in his carvings, he must remember to carve the sage’s words first.”

Dai Dong stressed this point. Whenever a scribe took notes at a meeting, he always paid special attention to the most ranking official in the room. Because the laborious process of carving the characters into bamboo required abbreviating a large part of any dialogue, the scribe always strove to capture the prince’s words first. Dai Dong’s order conveyed an important deviation: otherwise the scribe would ignore carving Laotzu’s remarks in favor of whatever Prince KoWu said. These new orders essentially reversed Pen Hei’s accustomed priorities.

“Oh? I will be sure he knows,” assured Wei Lon. Wei Lon was also a scribe, but not as good as Pen

Hei. Wei Lon’s job was to take all official carvings on the bamboo slats and prepare them for preservation. This entailed stringing them in order with special rope, and rolling them into neat scrolls. Wei Lon then wrapped the scrolls in heavy silk to store them in special vaults that kept out insects and moisture.

Dai Dong made a small nod to Wei Lon, indicating that he expected everything to go as the prince ordered.

Dai Dong spun on his heel and made his way to the far side of the palace. He headed for the military quarters. On his way, he inspected every table and every rug, arranging all the palace accoutrements properly.

Once he reached the military gates, he summoned the servant who attended the generals in their quarters. The generals’ gatekeeper let him in. “We need your men to assemble a sand tray, like the one in the military counsel chamber, only larger,” explained Dai Dong. He always hated asking favors of the military staff. The military

were not under his authority and did not have to pay him the same respect as the household servants. “What? Where?” asked the crusty old soldier. Missing an eye, and too old to fight, the generals gave the old war hero the post of gatekeeper to support him in his old age.

“The prince commanded that the visiting sage, Laotzu, is to have whatever he needs to give his evening lessons in the palace hall. The sage indicates that he would like to draw. This is why we need the construction of the tray. I need it done by sunset, and furnished with the necessary tools,” said Dai Dong, brisk and to the point.

“Oh, well I guess that would be a few long pieces of bamboo twig and a small rake, and uh, let’s see, one half wagon of sand. Hey wait a minute! Everyone is out on the plains today. It will be hard to assemble all of this so fast!” complained the old man.

“Listen,” said Dai Dong, clearly and forcefully. “The prince believes that if Laotzu hadn’t come when he did, those barbarians would be pounding

down our walls right now. If you wish to keep your job, you’ll find whatever help you need and get this done by sunset.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I just said it would be hard, that’s all,” the old soldier replied. “I got some young kids I can put to work from out in the cavalry yard.”

“However it’s accomplished...” trailed Dai Dong who already turned and left to attend to the next task on his mental list.

“So much to do, so much to do,” he muttered in time to his quick steps on the marble tile.

As he headed for the kitchen, a familiar voice hailed him from the servants’ entrance. “Ho brother!”

There stood Dai Lon, Dai Dong’s older brother. “I thought I’d stop by today and see if you needed to hire any extra help with all the special plans needed for the new visitor.”

always been irresponsible and dull-witted, continually begged him for a job at the palace. Dai Dong never pursued the matter for he feared that Dai Lon would most likely botch any task given to him. Dai Dong always managed to find an excuse on how the palace had more servants than they could use.

“Dai Lon,” said the valet, “I am far too busy to even think about that right now.”

“That’s right. You’re busy because you need more help here. I can make things easier for you. I can clean or cook, or haul things back and forth. C’mon Dong-dong,” his brother invoked a childhood nickname to win his brother’s sympathy.

“You know you should really be out on the plains. I heard that they are paying able-bodied men a percentage of all the treasure they can gather from what was left after that horrible windstorm,” Dai Dong urged. “You could be making a nest egg for yourself, and for mother.”

“Too late. They have as many men as they need, and besides, I decided to offer you my services

first, ‘cause you need them more.”

“Did you even go check the plains, Dai Lon? How do you know it’s too late if you say you came here first?” Dai Dong caught his brother in one of his typical lies.

“C’mon Dong, don’t you need my help this week?” “Well Dai Lon, I don’t right now. I have a million things to do, and to hire a new servant, even temporarily, requires a visit to the queen. I can tell you right now that she is far too busy to be bothered,” Dai Dong argued.

“You know, mother would be so happy if we could work together,” Dai Lon pled.

“Lon,” Dai Dong fumed. “Don’t blame me for mother’s anger at you.” He flashed eyes of impatience and disdain at his older brother.

“Fine,” Dai Lon said.

Dai Lon turned abruptly, and walked back toward the delivery gate. He stopped to make a mocking bow to his highly placed brother, and ended the

bow with an obscene gesture.

Dai Dong’s cheeks burned red with frustration and rage. He’d worked his fingers to the bone to rise from a lowly kitchen boy to the most highly placed servant at the palace. Dai Lon on the other hand, spent his youth with a rough crowd in the streets. As Dai Lon got older, he found that his reputation as a mischief-maker barred him from getting apprenticed to a trade. As an adult, Dai Lon made a copper here and there fixing carts and doing minor repairs for merchants at their shops. Most of what he made, he spent at the drinking houses where he boasted about how successful he would be someday. Why just look at his own brother, he would say. Dai Lon could only wave his brother’s status around to defend his own worth.

At home, Dai Dong was his mother’s pride and joy, naturally. When Dai Dong started working at the age of eight, he brought home enough money to help the family survive. When the palace hired him at ten, his brother’s life became a living hell. “Dai Lon” his mother would shout. “When will you get a real position like your brother.” Her nagging drove

a wedge between the two brothers that would never heal. Her harping seemed to make Dai Lon even lazier just to spite her.

Dai Dong only went home once a week. He could barely stand a whole evening of his mother’s worship, and chafed at his brother’s jealousy. It was a heavy and unnatural burden to be a family hero. He gave them what money he could every week, and hurried back to his own world at the palace.

This week, that world needed Dai Dong more than ever. Servants in every quarter of the palace waited for direction from him, for only he knew what the prince wanted. Nine banquets in a row on short notice! He must get to the kitchen quickly to review the supply chief’s plans.

* * *

Back at the stone cottage, Laotzu decided to rest before the night’s festivities. He asked the boy Chian to sit beside him and chat.

“So what do you do all day, boy,” asked the sage. “Do you have a job? A family?”

“U... yes. Both. I am a sword teacher for other boys, and my family makes swords,” KoYou replied. He tried to spin a good yarn for the sage. “Goodness! How exciting! Perhaps some day you can show me your skill. How is it that they picked you to attend me?” asked Laotzu.

“Well they knew you’d need protection, so they picked somebody who could watch out for you as well as show you around,” said KoYou.

“Protect me? Well that’s odd. You didn’t even bring your sword,” observed Laotzu.

“Oh, that’s right. I must have forgotten it,” KoYou’s face started to turn pink.

“Well that’s no problem, let’s go get it,” said Laotzu. “Then I can meet your family.”

“What?”

the older man.

“Oh that’s impossible. You see on the way here it broke when I used it to pry a heavy cart off of a dog. You see the cart fell on the dog during the parade when you came, and I just happened to be there and it was the only way to help...” KoYou dug himself deeper into a fanciful tale.

“Ha, ha, ha...” Laotzu couldn’t resist bursting into laughter. “You’d better come up with better stories than that if you want to fool an old storyteller like me!”

“What? You don’t believe me? I’ll get a sword and show you how good I am.” KoYou grabbed a twig from the kindling pile next to the fire pit and deftly swung and twirled it in the air.

“Oh, I believe you can use a sword. I can see that in your eye and in your well trained arms,” agreed Laotzu. “I believe only a prince’s son would be able to learn sword skills as fine as yours.”

“Rats! How did you know?” stomped KoYou. “I have my ways. Besides, that stiff servant gave it

away when he bowed to you. Is your real name KoChian?” asked the sage.

“Yes, but they all call me KoYou,” the boy confessed. “I hope you don’t think I’m a liar. I just wanted to play a little joke on you today. Besides, everyone always treats me differently once they find out the prince is my father. I wanted to see how you’d treat me if I were just a normal average boy.” “Normal average boys aren’t sword teachers, and they don’t usually come from families who make swords,” replied Laotzu.

“But wouldn’t that be great? It would be so much more fun than my real life. Here I spend all day with tutors and generals learning boring old history and how old wars were won or lost. Who cares?” scoffed the young prince.

“It’s a life of privilege. You should be grateful.” “Grateful? It’s a prison!” cried KoYou. “I want to be a hero and ride alone in the countryside, rescuing people from bandits and barbarians. My horse and I would ride like the wind with only my

sword by my side. I’d sleep under the stars and fish