It seemed Zhong Gu had vanished into the void. King Jie’s wrath did not abate but intensified to a pitch unseen before. Everyone at court sought to avoid him. When one of his most trusted generals was forced to admit Zhong had not been found, the wretched man was lucky to escape with his life, hurrying from the room as Jie flung pots and stools after him, shrieking that he was an ill-begotten imbecile.
Throughout this incendiary turmoil, Sai faithfully brought Chang news of every rumor, every whisper, she heard. But she grew more fearful each day Zhong remained unfound as the king’s fury blossomed like a fire in the forest. Finally, after five harrowing days, she came late one night, a hood over her head, and slipped soundlessly into his room.
“Bar the door, Master,” she whispered, as though afraid the very walls would betray her.
Placing the wooden beam across the door, Chang led her to the table, and they sat close together on four-legged stools. Her fear was palpable, but although he was consumed by curiosity, he waited for her to collect herself.
“You are safe here,” he said. “Do not be afraid.”
Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, she paused for a long moment more before beginning her story.
“I heard two of Zhong’s servants talking,” she said, her voice barely audible. “The one said to the other, he will never be found, even though he is so close. In time he will be able to escape.”
“What did he mean?”
“I know nothing more, Master.”
“Why have those servants not fled?” he asked.
“Where could they go?” she answered. “How far could they get? It is safer for them to stay in the palace and pretend to aid in the search. That is what they are doing.”
“This is intriguing news,” he said, “but little more. Yet you are fearful and come here hooded.”
“They saw me as they spoke, Master,” she said, “and knew I had overheard. They said if I told anyone of it, they would find me and kill me. They remain loyal to Zhong.”
“They cannot hurt you,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “You are my property, and you cannot be taken away. You belong to me as a possession. I have the right to kill anyone who touches you, and those men know it. Do not be afraid.”
So, Zhong has not escaped, he thought, his mind running in a separate direction as he spoke to Sai. They have not found him in the palace, yet he is close. He must be somewhere in the city. If he leaves the city, I shall never find him.
The king’s soldiers had turned the city first upon its head and then upon its heels, in their desperate efforts to find Zhong Gu, but it seemed he was cleverer than they supposed.
“You have done well,” he said to Sai, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. “Go now and see if there is more to be learned. I cannot go myself. I am a man of Shang, and I would arouse suspicion. I must rely on you.”
Reluctant to leave, she held him in her arms, and as she did so, a new thought came to him.
“Say to everyone I have grown tired of you,” he told her, “and you are seeking pleasure elsewhere. Find the servants you overheard, and perhaps, in the arms of one of them, you will learn what he knows.”
She recoiled from him with a cry of revulsion.
“Only for now,” he said, seeing the horror in her eyes. “Until I have found Zhong Gu. Do this for me.”
“You make me a whore again,” she said. “Do I mean nothing to you, after all?”
“You were a whore before I came here,” he answered, wondering why she could not see the value of his idea. “Why is it so terrible now?”
She stared at him, backing away as he took a step towards her. What in the name of great heaven was wrong with the girl? A few nights with other men; was it so much to ask if it led him to Zhong Gu? Why could she not understand?
She left him without a further word, and he did not see her again for four days. When she at last knocked on his door, he flung it open in towering impatience.
“Well?”
“Zhong Gu hides in the house of Wu, the king’s cousin,” she told him, her voice flat and cold. “That is all I could find out.”
She had done as he asked, and now he had his answer. He began to thank her, opening his arms, but she turned and left him where he stood, her eyes empty. He stared at the door she closed behind her, shaking his head in utter incomprehension.
* * *
Banishing all thoughts of Sai, Chang sat at the wooden table in the dim light of the tallow lamp, dwelling on his plans. He knew where Zhong Gu was — assuming Sai had been given reliable information — so now it was a question of finding a way to speak to him. But even if I do, he mused, will Zhong Gu accept my proposal? He is a great man, and I am but an insect by comparison. Why should he trust me? He stared at the small flame of the clay lamp with its thread of black smoke undulating upwards from its tip. “He will trust me,” he said, under his breath, “because he will have no choice. If he is found, he is a dead man, and how long can he remain where he is undetected? I will show him a way to escape. I will place it before his very eyes.”
It now occurred to him he may not have much time in which to act. If Jie took it into his head to turn Zhong’s servants over to his torturers, he would soon learn their secret. Loyal they may be, but how long could they endure the streams of molten metal that would be poured on them? It was surprising it had not happened already. They must be men of a sturdy constitution and steady nerves to risk such a fate.
He wondered if he should contrive a means of talking to Yi Yin, but dismissed the idea almost at once. He had not even seen the minister for at least a month, and when they had met by chance in a narrow passageway in the palace, he bowed, wishing Yi long life and good health, but the minister, appearing much preoccupied, pushed by without so much as a word. He could obviously not be relied upon.
“No,” he said, aloud. “I must do this alone. Involving others is too dangerous.”
The following night, therefore, Chang cautiously traversed the dark streets and alleyways to the house of Wu, a wealthy, arrogant man, known in the city of Xia for his gluttony and lasciviousness. Men such as he, attract rumors as dung attracts flies, and the whisper ran abroad that he coveted the throne. He lived in a large house, little smaller than Jie’s own palace. Constructed of the same mud brick as the city walls, the dwelling had two floors, a great many rooms, a host of servants, a veritable army of slaves, and a strong contingent of well-armed guards. Chang stood in the long purple shadows of a moonlit stand of acacia trees twenty paces from the house and pictured Zhong Gu hiding somewhere within. As he did so, it occurred to him that Wu might well be planning to use Zhong in some manner in an attempt to seize the throne from his cousin. Why else would Wu risk hiding him? If such were the case, time might be even shorter than he had thought. However, he could think of no ruse or pretext by which to gain entry to the house, much less be afforded an opportunity to talk to Zhong Gu. Even to reveal that he knew, or suspected, Zhong was in the house would mean immediate arrest and execution by Wu’s soldiers. If Zhong Gu truly was in the house, and he had no proof of that beyond the word of a man who might simply have been eager to impress the girl lying in his arms, then someone else would have to get him out before an escape could be accomplished. But who was to do that, he wondered, and how was the escape to be made? If Wu did indeed plan to usurp the throne, perhaps Zhong had already agreed to support him, seeing his own salvation in King Jie’s overthrow, but how was this to be ascertained?
These questions and many others revolved in his mind for hours after he returned to his tiny chamber, but at last an idea emerged slowly from the mists of these perplexities. An idea he refined and polished like a metalsmith shaping, sharpening, and annealing a fine bronze sword. If it worked, he would be a hero; if not, he would certainly die a hideous death. Gathering his courage, he went to work.
* * *
“Well,” barked the king, as Chang knelt before him five days later, “where is Zhong Gu? If you can tell me that, you will be well rewarded, but if you lie, I shall have you cut into little pieces very slowly.”
Chang had seen men executed by this means, and the very thought of it made him shudder, but he had asked for an audience with the king and there was no turning back. He told his story as carefully as he could, remaining on his knees, his head bowed.
“But, Lord King,” said the captain of the palace guard as soon as Chang had finished, “Lord Wu allowed us to search his house. I was there myself, and we found nothing.”
Now, Chang thought, do I live, or do I die? He knew Wu’s house had been searched, and if Jie believed his soldiers had been thorough, all was lost. He would die for attempting to deceive the king and for complicity in Zhong Gu’s disappearance. On the other hand, it was widely known that Jie distrusted his cousin and suspected him of plotting against the throne.
“Of course,” Jie snapped at the officer, “what else would you expect, you imbecile? My beloved Cousin Wu is as crafty as a weasel and just as trustworthy. If you searched his house, then perhaps I should have you cut in pieces for not finding Zhong Gu there in the first place.”
Chang breathed an almost audible sigh of relief.
The captain went pale and stepped back hastily, probably wishing he had never spoken, but Jie had turned his full fury on Wu.
The king clenched his fists, raising his arms and eyes towards heaven.
“In the house of First Cousin Wu,” he roared. “I might have known. There is treason here, and I will root it out.”
Chang saw his opportunity and dared to speak.
“Lord King,” he said, as humbly as he was able, “I ask but one thing if Zhong and Wu are found and taken.”
Jie, now on his feet, stared at Chang for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
“And what might that be?” he demanded in a voice as cold as a winter’s frost.
“I ask that they be given to me, that I, your subject, may deliver them to you here in person. Such a service would be a high honor for me, and for my family forever.”
“Very well,” said the king, after a moment’s reflection, “that shall be your reward. But betray me, and you die. Remember that.”
“You should have asked for a chest of gold,” whispered Yi Yin, as Chang backed away from the king and came to stand beside him.
“Would he have given it to me?”
“Of course not.”
Jie summoned one of his generals and gave him his orders. The soldier bowed and hurried off, taking Chang with him. A troop of two hundred men was speedily assembled, and an hour after midnight Wu’s house was surrounded and attacked in a fury of blood-lust. Those inside were taken entirely by surprise. Jie had ordered that if Zhong were found, he and Wu were to be taken alive, while the remaining occupants of the house were to be slaughtered where they stood. Watching from a safe distance, Chang saw two figures dragged out bound with leather thongs, and he was exultant. It had been a great risk, but Sai had not let him down.
The pillage continued for an hour. The men of the household and the guards were put to the sword or clubbed to death, while the women, regardless of age or rank, were raped and beaten before being slaughtered in their turn. Chang had never heard such screaming, seen so much blood, such terrible savagery, and he wondered if this was how it had been when these same soldiers of King Jie destroyed his village so long ago. He thought of his wife and son lying dead and renewed his vow to see an end to the rule of Xia.
The carnage having at last ended, Chang joined the soldiers as they marched the two prisoners through the city to the palace and flung them into small, barred dungeons. As they went, the flickering light of their blazing pitch torches made shadows leap over the ground and across the walls of shops and houses. Occasionally, citizens appeared, no doubt disturbed by the noise, only to retreat in haste as soon as they saw the procession. At one point, Wu, who walked with a pronounced limp, stumbled, falling to his knees, and was hauled to his feet with blows, kicks, and fearful curses.
“I shudder to think of the death awaiting them,” muttered a soldier, as the march resumed.
“Guard them well, Master Chang,” snapped the commander, his leather armor bespattered with gore and brains. “We will return at daybreak to escort you and the prisoners to the lord king.”
The soldiers departed, laughing and retelling stories of the night’s exploits. No one appeared to spare any further thought for Chang, which was precisely as he had hoped.