Cry Havoc

Prologue-2

“A pretty name for a pretty face.”

“Tell me, stranger,” the girl replied, “are men capable of admiring a woman for her intelligence or her bravery? I intervened on your behalf; I tended to your wounds, but you say nothing of that. Your appraisal of my name means little to me, and your appraisal of my face means even less.”

“Discipline your daughter,” Gao hissed.

The old man only laughed and bent forward to kiss the girl's forehead. “As well try to discipline the wind, stranger,” he said. “We are returning to the country in a few days. Come with us. It would not be wise for you to stay in the capital.”

The journey to Feng's country home took several days. The man had a small farm near the banks of the Wei, and he had offered room and board if Gao was willing to work the fields. It was almost enough to make him laugh -- or weep. The emperor had returned from death to be reduced to a mere farmhand.

He would have spat in the old man's face if not for the fact that he knew he needed food, and he would find no help in the city. Lihua was right. He was no longer Gaozu of Han, no longer Liu Bang from Pei County. He still felt like himself, still grew angry at the things that had made him angry before, still desired the same things he had wanted when he was emperor. But that life was over. Lihua pestered him to choose a name every time they spoke. Last night, he had tossed his bowl aside and growled, “Sui Bian.”

That only produced laughter from the young woman. “You wish to be called 'whatever?'” she scoffed. “Surely you can do better.”

He could, but he refused to. He might have been forced into this life, but he would not accept it. On the second night, while Feng and his daughter slept, he sat alone in the tall grass by the river's edge.

“Did you think we brought you back to resume your old life?”

He froze.

It was an effort to make himself stand up and turn around, but the Old Woman was there when he did, watching him. “You have done a marvelous thing, my son,” she said. “You do not know it yet, but the Empire you created will propel your civilization to new heights.”

“Then let me return to lead it.”

With a sigh, she came toward him and shook her head. “All things pass, my son,” she said. “It is time to begin the next great work.”

Stomping through the grass, he put himself right in front of the old crone. He had to resist the urge to seize her by the shoulders. She just stared at him, unflinching. “Time to begin my next great work?” he yelled. “What work is that?”

“Building new empires, of course.”

He turned away from her and went to the riverbank, smiling and shaking his head. “New empires,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to forge a new empire when you curse me with this body! When you take away all that I was!”

He turned around, but the Old Woman was gone.

Sobbing, Sui Bian fell to his knees and covered his face with both hands. His body trembled with every breath. “Why couldn't they just let me die?” he whispered. “Just let me DIE!”

“Who are you talking to?”

The sound of Lihua's voice made him jump. He found the young woman standing just a few feet away, wrapped in the blanket that she had used to keep herself warm. Her hair was loose, her face serene and pale in the moonlight. “I fear for you, stranger,” she said. “Does the madness have you so firmly in its grip?”

He said nothing.

It surprised him when Lihua approached and knelt beside him, reaching out to lay a hand on his cheek. “Let us help you,” she pleaded. “My father can give you a good home. You will be safe with us.”

What else could he do but accept?

(194 BCE)Sui Bian used a hoe to violently remove some weeds, churning up a spray of dirt with them. He didn't much care about that. The work was hard and tiring, but it kept his mind off other things. News came from Chang'an now and then, but he tried not to listen. What he heard disturbed him greatly.

His widow – the Empress Lu – now dictated much of what went on in the capital, and his weakling son could do little to restrain her. Liu Ying was a timid emperor. It left Sui with a bitter taste in his mouth. Had the boy learned nothing of what he had tried to teach? Any thought of returning had long since fled from his mind. If he tried, Lu would have him killed.

Hearing what she had done to Qi – ripping the woman's eyes out, cutting her arms and legs off and leaving her to die in pig s**t – had been enough to make him empty his stomach in the fields behind Feng's house. After years of battle, Sui Bian had thought that no amount of human brutality could unnerve him, but that…That was something else entirely. And his third son, poor little Ruyi, now dead at Lu's command.

Sui Bian had wept for him. He had prayed to the Old Woman several times, begged her to intercede on his behalf – if the spirits could raise him from the dead, surely they could do the same for Ruyi – but she would not come. The Old Woman ignored him now. He had not seen her since that night by the river. He was beginning to think that perhaps he had imagined all of it. Perhaps he was mad, just as Lihua suspected.

The sun was sinking toward the distant mountains, but its glare was still bright and strong. High summer had come. Over a year since his death and rebirth, and here he was, hoeing weeds on a little farm that he would never have noticed in his former life.

Sui Bian was facing west, shading his eyes with one hand. “Why?” he whispered to himself. “Why don't you just let me die?”

“You needn't push yourself so hard.”

He turned around to find Old Feng watching him with a frown. Had the man heard his muttering? “Have some water, my friend,” Feng said. “Do not break yourself under the sun's cruel gaze.”

“I do not need your pity, old man.”

Anyone else might have punished Sui for his disrespect, but Feng only sighed and turned away, making his way back to the house. Eventually, Sui decided to follow. He did need to quench his thirst.

Halfway to the house, he found Lihua in the fields, inspecting the barley. The girl was always doing things like that, taking on a man's work as if her father would not be scandalized by it. Strangely, Old Feng didn't seem to mind. In fact, he encouraged it. To some extent, Sui understood.

Old Feng shared his home with the children of his dead neighbour, Zhao Si, a man who had died at Gaixia. A man who had died under Sui's command when he was still Liu Bang. Zhao Fuling and Zhao Tian were both good boys, but their father was gone and his wife as well. Lihua's mother had perished shortly after her birth, and Feng's only son had lost his life in the very campaign that won Sui his empire. The two families relied on each other, and Lihua being Lihua, she insisted on helping.

The young woman looked up to favour him with a smile. “That fury I see in your eyes, Stranger.” She refused to call him Sui Bian, and he refused to choose another name, which left them at a standoff. “Tell me, is your existence so miserable that you can find no joy in anything?”

The stalks rustled as Guo Dong stepped into the open.

The boy came from a neighbouring farm, but in recent months, he had offered his services to Old Feng. Sui suspected that he intended to ask for Lihua's hand, but that was none of his concern.

Guo Dong was a slim youth, just shy of average height, with short, black hair and a pitiful excuse for a beard. There was something in the way he looked at you, almost as if he were planning some trick. “In Sui's defense,” he said, “Hoeing weeds on a hot day like this would dampen my spirits as well.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Lihua countered. “The task falls to you more often than it does to him, but you're always smiling when I talk to you.”

“Perhaps your company raises my spirits.”

Lihua blushed, turning her face away as if that could hide feelings that were now painfully obvious. It should not have annoyed Sui – if Guo Dong wanted her, he could have her; a woman like that would be a fitting wife for this useless fool of a man – but it did. He chose to leave without comment.

Guo Dong, however, was determined to provoke a reaction.

The boy stepped in front of Sui with an impish grin and a glint of mischief in his eyes. “There must be some way to make the job easier,” he said. “Perhaps you should do away with the hoe and simply scowl the weeds to death.”

Lihua giggled.

Clenching his teeth, Sui pushed past the young man. He shook his head as he made his way toward the house. “Idiots, the both of them!” he spat. “To think that this is what my life has come to!”

Feng's home was a modest building but well made. Walls of wood supported tiled roofs that rose to a peak on each of the three wings that surrounded a small courtyard. The fourth wall was an iron gate that stood open despite the onset of evening. Sui had left it so. Seething with frustration, he had taken a walk by the river to relieve himself. He was just returning when the sound of hushed voices made the hair stand on the back of his neck.

Old instincts took over, and he reached for the bronze knife on his belt only to find it missing. Well, of course it was. He was a farmhand now, not a soldier. His former life was over, but he still retained much of what he knew. And he felt invigorated in this new body. He crept around the back of the house and froze.

In the golden rays of the setting sun, Guo Dong and Lihua stood side by side, both gazing out on a field of barley that swayed in the wind. Neither one saw him watching. He was about to leave, but something made him pause.

“Why, of all the women in this world,” Lihua began, “would you want me?”

A good question.

Guo Dong turned to face her with the kind of smile you could only find on a love-sick boy. “Because you make me laugh,” he answered. “And you fill my mind with ideas that keep me awake long into the night. Because you are kind.”

Lihua's shoulders slumped. Her back was turned, but Sui could imagine the pain in her eyes. “I would not be a good wife to you,” she said. “Or to any man.”

“You think I fear the fire within you,” Guo Dong protested. “But it is that fire that draws me to you.”

Lihua turned to him.

It shocked Sui to see tears on the girl's cheeks. He didn't think anything could make her cry. “Promise me…” she rasped. “Promise me that if we have a daughter, you will not break her. Promise me you won't force her to marry a man she hates or quash her every inclination to question the world around her.”

Tenderly, Guo Dong laid a hand on her cheek, and Lihua leaned into his touch. “If we have a daughter,” he said, “I want her to be just like you.”