Chapter Seventy-Eight: Council Before the Army (Part One)

Rumors had forced the young emperor to convene his leading ministers in council, for Wang Zhen had warned him that unless the unrest in the army—stirred by these rumors—was swiftly quelled, the entire force would have no choice but to retreat. Should the army return to the capital without having accomplished its mission, it would mean that the emperor’s first campaign would end in ignominy and anticlimax. Upon his return, the young sovereign would face the covert ridicule of his courtiers—though they might not mock him openly, behind closed doors they would surely celebrate his humiliation. But this was not the worst of it: if the army turned back without so much as glimpsing the enemy, the emperor’s authority in the eyes of his officials and the people would suffer a grievous blow.

It was certain that, after his return, the streets and markets would buzz with schadenfreude—comments about how the emperor was still too young for such endeavors. And amid these whispers, there would be no shortage of slander against Wang Zhen, the trusted teacher of the emperor.

Full of youthful zeal and ambition, determined to emulate the martial glories of his ancestors, the orthodox emperor Zhu Qizhen could not possibly tolerate such disparagement from his subjects, nor allow his most trusted mentor to become a target for attack. Thus, before he called the council of war, he ordered Wang Zhen to thoroughly investigate the matter, commanding him to root out—by whatever means necessary—the instigators who had sown these rumors in the shadows.

Yet, frustratingly, though Wang Zhen was eager to discover the source of the rumors about the army’s supposed lack of provisions, he found himself with too few agents to investigate. The skilled officers of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the East Depot—those adept in interrogation and investigation—had mostly remained in the capital, not accompanied the army. Those who had marched with them were only the Great Han Generals of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, men fit to guard the imperial entourage but wholly unqualified for the subtleties of espionage.

A clever housewife cannot cook without rice; so now Wang Zhen regretted not heeding Ma Shun’s earlier advice to bring more of the secret police along. As it was, with so few hands, he found himself helpless in a moment of crisis.

However, the investigation could not be abandoned. Wang Zhen first instructed Chen Guan, the Chief Eunuch of the Imperial Stables, to have his men make discreet inquiries. He then ordered his nephew, Wang Shan—Assistant Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard—to lead the limited number of agents available in a covert investigation.

Though the emperor had commanded a thorough probe, Wang Zhen dared not make too much commotion. The army was already jittery; to bluster about with a grand inquisition would only play into the hands of those spreading rumors. The bigger the stir he made, the more delighted those malcontents would be, for such actions would lend credence to the rumors and further shake the already unsettled morale of the troops.

Wang Zhen, who had risen from humble schoolteacher to the chief eunuch of the Ming Directorate of Ceremonial, was no fool. He resolved, therefore, to proceed quietly. Yet the results were deeply disappointing. The reports from Chen Guan produced only a few minor culprits—small fry—who, when questioned, could not name any ringleader. They had simply repeated the rumors because they themselves believed them; word had passed from mouth to ear, nothing more.

Wang Shan, meanwhile, had led his handful of agents in aimless investigation for half a day, but at last could only report back to his uncle, crestfallen: they had found nothing.

Wang Zhen did not scold his nephew for incompetence, knowing full well that Wang Shan’s resources were meager and that his nephew was ill-suited for such tasks. If only Ma Shun, the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, or Tang Tong of the East Depot were present, matters might be far easier to resolve—but both men were in the capital, too far away to be of help.

In truth, if one were determined to unearth the true instigators behind the rumors, there was a simple—if laborious—method: interrogate each minor offender, trace the rumor back from one person to the next, until the source was revealed. But though straightforward, this approach was time-consuming, exhausting, and—most critically—would create too great a stir. At such a sensitive juncture, neither Wang Zhen nor the emperor himself dared to risk a sweeping purge; such an upheaval would surely break the army’s spirit beyond repair.

Fortunately, Heaven leaves no road entirely blocked. Just as Wang Zhen was at his wits’ end, Ji Guang came forward with vital intelligence. Once Wang Zhen had confirmed the accuracy of Ji Guang’s report, he regarded it as a priceless treasure. At his request, the emperor Zhu Qizhen promptly decided to summon a council of all senior civil and military officers on campaign.

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This was a matter of grave importance, requiring the assembly of the court’s ministers for consultation.

Whereas such councils had previously always been held in the Hall of Supreme Polarity within the capital, this day’s council was convened in the grand tent of the army at Yanghe Pass. Though the gathering was smaller, with fewer officials present, the ranks of those attending were dazzlingly high: nearly every man was of the first or second grade; those of third rank and below were rare indeed. The tent was crowded with the most distinguished of the empire’s great and powerful.

Civil and military officials, as was custom, divided themselves naturally into two sides of the tent. On the civil side, the leading figures were Grand Secretaries Cao Nai and Zhang Yi of the Inner Cabinet, Minister of War Kuang Ye, Vice Ministers Zhang Zhi and Wang Ao, Censor-in-Chief Xie Lan, and Censors Wang Zhen and Wu Cheng. On the military side, the leaders were the Duke of England, Zhang Fu, and the Duke of Cheng, Zhu Yong, accompanied by Marquis Chen Ying of Taining, Earl Wu Kezhong of Gongshun, Earl Xue Shou of Yongshun, Earl Chen Huai of Pingxiang, Earl Li Zhen of Xiangcheng, Earl Chen Xun of Suian, Earl Shen Rong of Xiuwu, Commanders Liang Cheng, Wang Gui, and Wu Kexin, along with Commanders Ji Guang and Fan Zhong and Assistant General Guo Deng.

Standing beside these two groups were several others: Chief Eunuch Chen Guan of the Imperial Stables, Recording Eunuch Qiu Ning of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Managing Eunuch Song Zhen of the Armory, Military Eunuch Wang De of the Imperial Stables, and Wang Shan, Assistant Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Because of his special status and advanced age, the emperor had ordered a stool to be brought for Prince Consort Jingyuan, placing him just beside the imperial desk.

The emperor himself, naturally, sat behind the imperial desk at the center of the tent. A step away stood the youthful eunuch Xi Ning, his personal attendant; Wang Zhen stood two paces to the left, holding his duster, with the Duke of England, Zhang Fu, and the Grand Secretary, Cao Nai, beside him.

Once all were assembled, Zhu Qizhen slowly surveyed the gathering and spoke: “Of late, there have been rumors in the camp that the army is without provisions. I find this most peculiar. From the moment we left Juyong Pass, our supplies have been provided by the granaries of Xuanfu, and all the way to Datong, the transport of grain and fodder has been smooth and unbroken. Why, then, are there now rumors that the army faces famine? Do any of you know how these rumors arose, or who is disturbing the morale of our troops?”

To this question, naturally, no one could give the emperor an answer; none dared attempt it. The assembled ministers, civil and military alike, remained silent.