‘Without the emperor’s voice,’ Sung Win went on, ‘we do not have the power to put the empire under arms as one. I know this. I accept this. I have tried to reach Emperor Huaizong and heard nothing from the court. I know many of you have been rebuffed by ignorant courtiers. That is why we are here, my lords. We know the wolf is coming to Hangzhou and we know what must be done. He must be fought, or he must be paid tribute to leave our lands. There is no third choice. If we do nothing, we have failed in our duty and our honour is as dust. If we do nothing, we will deserve the destruction that will surely come.’
Lord Sung Win paused, knowing that his next words would take him into treason. His life, his house, his history would be forfeit if the boy emperor chose to make an example of him. Yet if he could break the Mongol armies, he would earn the gratitude of the imperial house. He would be beyond punishment, untouchable. Sung Win dared not dream of his sons rising to become emperor in turn, but his actions that day would put him closer to the dragon throne than any of his ancestors. Or they would get him killed.
‘I have come to see that we must act. Therefore I call the council. I call all Sung lords to defend the empire. Thirty-three noble houses are here today. Between us, and our vassals, we control more than a million soldiers. I call a vote in conclave.’
One of his servants went to the wooden case that stood against the far wall. Inlaid with ivory, it was an ancient and beautiful thing. The servant held an iron rod and at the last moment he looked back at Lord Sung Win, hesitating. Sung Win nodded and the servant inserted the rod and yanked back, breaking the lock.
There was a gasp across the chamber. Every lord stared in fascination and dread as Sung Win’s servant brought out a deep glass bowl, larger than his head. He held it up as he walked back to the centre. Other servants reached into the cabinet and withdrew marbles of black and clear glass from the shelves where they lay in neat rows. The men moved through the crowd, handing them in pairs to the most powerful houses of the empire. The crowd of lords began to speak in louder voices and Lord Sung Win strained his eyes and ears to gain a sense of the room. He could not judge the mood at that moment and it frustrated him. Some of them would be too terrified of the emperor’s disapproval to vote. They would abstain in their cowardice and weakness. He could not know how Jin Feng would act. His brother’s army had been torn apart by the Mongol invader, but the house was ancient and his decision would matter.
Lord Sung Win raised his hands to show them the two marbles he held, one black and one clear.
‘Let the neutral colour be for tribute,’ he said, raising the black ball. ‘Let clear water be for war.’ He dropped the clear ball into the glass sphere, so that it rang out a note across the hall, whirring around in slow circles before it rested. ‘That is my vote, with my vassal houses. That is my pledge of ninety-two thousand soldiers, horses, all the equipment and accoutrements of war at my command. Let us destroy the enemy before us, in the name of the Lord Perpetual Nation, the Son of Heaven. In the name of Emperor Huaizong and the dragon throne.’
Up to that point, Lord Sung Win had dominated the room. As the clear glass ball rattled to a stop, the realisation flashed round the hall that they were expected to respond. Sung Win felt a prickle of sweat begin at his brow and held himself very still so they would not see it run down his face and know the strain he felt.
The head of the most ancient house in the empire was seated in one of the first rows around the central space. Lord Hong was a large man, made wider by his formal robes. He sat with his legs braced before him and one hand resting on each knee. His right hand clicked in the silence as he rubbed two of the marbles together. Sung Win waited for him to move and so he was startled when Lord Jin Feng stood up at the edge of his vision and came forward to the servant with the glass bowl. Lord Hong watched warily, only his hand moving.
‘This is a day of new things,’ Jin Feng said. ‘My brother Lord Jin An gave his life to protect our lands and honour. Xuan, Son of Heaven, died with him, the end of a noble Chin line. In defence of the empire, can I offer less than my own life?’ He looked around at the gathered nobles and nodded as if he understood them. ‘We have a duty to burn thorns in our fields. My vassals and I vote for war.’
He dropped another clear ball into the bowl and it rattled around, holding the gaze of every man in the meeting place. Jin Feng bowed briefly to Sung Win. He neither liked nor trusted the older man and as their eyes met, Jin Feng could not help the suspicions that flared in him. Yet for once, Lord Sung Win was on the side of right. Jin Feng handed the black ball to a servant and returned to his place as two more lords stepped up. Both of them placed clear marbles in the bowl and passed back the others.
Sung Win began to relax as three more men came and added clear balls. He saw Lord Hong rise from his seat. The man moved easily, with grace and strength. Lord Hong was one of the few in the hall who did not neglect his training with sword and bow each day.
Lord Hong held both marbles above the bowl.
‘I see no emperor’s chancellor here,’ he said, his voice deep. ‘I have heard no gong summoning us to this council, this conclave.’
Lord Sung Win began to sweat again at the words. Though a distant cousin of the old emperor, Lord Hong was still a member of the imperial family. He could yet sway the gathering if he chose to exert his influence.
Lord Hong flashed a gaze around the chamber.
‘My heart rebels at the idea of paying tribute to this enemy, but it will buy us time for Emperor Huaizong to bring order. I would wish to lead an army if the vote goes for war, but without imperial approval, I cannot add the fate of my house to that decision. Therefore, I choose tribute.’
He dropped a black ball into the bowl and Sung Win struggled not to scowl at the man. Lord Hong had revealed only weakness with his speech, as if he could keep himself safe from imperial anger, yet still expect to lead if the vote went against him. It was infuriating, but typical of the politics in that chamber. Lord Hong had reminded them of the prospect of the emperor’s disapproval and the ripples had begun to spread. Sung Win showed no reaction as four more lords added black marbles to the bowl. Internally, he seethed.
The lamps burned down to dark yellow flickers with no imperial servants to replenish the oil. Lord Sung Win stood straight and tall as the lords of the Sung empire came up one by one. Few of them spoke, though the first to abstain explained his decision in words that demonstrated only cowardice in Sung Win’s assessment. Even so, seven others abstained from the vote, handing back both marbles to the servants.
The damage had been done by Lord Hong, just enough to frighten the weak men and make the strong cautious. Sung Win could feel the mood in the chamber shift as they chose the safer path of tribute over war. He clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth grate as the black balls were dropped in, one after the other. When the vote stood against him at eleven to seven, he thought of speaking again, but it would have meant another breach of tradition. His chance had come and gone. He allowed himself a glare at those who abstained, but kept his silence as the glass bowl filled. Two more black marbles went in and then two more clear ones. A distant hope formed in Lord Sung Win’s icy thoughts. Another vote for tribute and two abstentions followed, men who would not even meet his eyes as they shuffled back to their seats.
When the thirty-three great houses had all voted or abstained, the glass bowl was almost full. Sung Win had kept count in his mind, but he showed no emotion as the results were tallied, watched by all.
‘Ten have abstained. There are fourteen votes for tribute, nine for war,’ he announced in a voice as clear and loud as any imperial herald. He breathed in relief. ‘The vote is carried for war.’
Sung Win smiled, feeling dizzy from the strain. Fourteen was the unluckiest number possible, a number that sounded like the words ‘Want to die’ in both Cantonese and Mandarin. Nine was a number of strength, associated with the emperor himself. The result could not have been clearer and many of the men in the room relaxed visibly at the sign of heavenly favour. To go forward under nine was a blessing. No one would dare to move under fourteen, for fear of utter disaster.
A low note boomed across the room, interrupting the excited conversations that had sprung up over the meeting hall at the announcement. Lord Sung Win jerked his head around, his mouth dropping slightly open. The imperial chancellor stood by the gong, holding the rod he had used to strike. The man was red-faced, as if he had run a long way. He wore a tunic and trousers of white silk, and in his right hand he held his staff of office. A yellow-dyed yak tail spilled over his fist as he stood and glared in fury at the assembled lords.
‘Rise for Emperor Huaizong, Lord Perpetual Nation, ruler of the middle kingdom. Make obeisance for the Son of Heaven!’
A ripple of shock snapped across the hall. Every man there stumbled to his feet as if yanked up. The emperor did
