A Death in China - Carl Hiaasen [0]
Carl Hiaasen
Bill Montalbano
A DEATH IN CHINA
In 221 B.C., China came to be ruled by the formidable Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi, whose dynasty was China’s shortest, but arguably its most important. It was Qin who unified the feudal country. He built a road system, organized a central government, standardized Chinese language and coinage, and it was he who ordered construction of the Great Wall. Qin’s hope for China’s future was tied to a belief in his own immortality; to achieve that end, he was both ingenious and brutal, and when he finally died, he was interred in a giant tumulus near his capital of Changan, now the modern city of Xian. In the last decade, no archaeological dig has aroused more world interest than that involving the tomb of Qin Shi Huangdi, the Son of Heaven. …
—From a lecture by Dr. David Wang
St. Edward’s College, Ohio
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Prologue
CHANGAN, CHINA, 213 B.C.
“WHERE IS CONFUCIUS?” the emperor demanded.
Princes, nobles, councillors, generals, diplomats, servants and eunuch-ministers mimicked the emperor’s angry mien. Square-jawed, flint-eyed, they stared at the cluster of old men whose robes and formal bearing marked them as scholars. Silence wrapped the throne room. It was not a question to be answered. Everybody knew Confucius had been dead nearly three hundred years.
“Is Confucius in heaven? Where is heaven? What do your books tell you? Is he a bush, or a river, or a bird that flies through the forest? Does he live still? Tell me, scholars.”
The eldest scholar, gnarled as the cane he clutched with both hands, responded in a voice that held no fear.
“Where the master is we cannot say. But his spirit is among us men.”
“You know nothing!” the emperor snapped. “Am I then just a man, like any other?”
“You are foremost among men, and more,” answered a councillor named Li Su in prayerlike incantation. “You are Qin Shi Huangdi, August Sovereign, the Son of Heaven. You are the Emperor of the Middle Kingdom.”
“Have I lived as other men?”
The ritual required a general to answer: Men Qian, the emperor’s best.
“Your feats have surpassed all others.”
The emperor allowed himself a smile and cocked an eye; a parody of surprise.
“You have unified the Middle Kingdom,” the general continued. “You have given us a great wall, stretching many months’ journey, from the great ocean to the desert to protect us from the barbarians. So wide six horsemen may ride abreast. So tall and so strong that it will never be breached.”
“So I am not just any man, am I? I am the Son of Heaven, ruler of the mightiest empire. Tell me, scholars, in your wisdom: Is that not right?”
The old man ran a clawed hand through his wispy beard.
“‘Let the prince be prince, minister be minister, father father and son son.’ So it is written,” he said.
The royal fingers kneaded an elaborate bronze chalice, and a serving boy, unnoticed, carefully poured more wine.
“They are all men. Men die. But I am different; the Son of Heaven. I shall not die. My body may stop, but I shall not die. I shall be immortal.”
There were none to vouchsafe the emperor a response. The eldest scholar folded his hands around the cane and stared out over the exquisite royal city, where five palaces and fifty temples drowsed in the summer sun.
“I have heard the criticism of the scholars,” the emperor said. “They ridicule my dealings with sorcerers and alchemists. They deny immortality because it is not written in their books.
“Scholars! It is not enough for an empire to be strong and orderly. No, they insist as well that the emperor must also be a sage, must also follow the teachings of Confucius, who is not here.”
The eldest scholar replied softly, as though rebuking a child. ‘“To