Later, he promised himself, seeing how awkwardly Kuei Jen stood there, how nervous he was even now, after it was over.
"You did well," he said, bowing stiffly to his son, honoring him by the gesture. "Whatever the San Shih say, I am proud of you, Kuei Jen. Your answers showed not merely a sound knowledge of the texts but also a profound understanding of their meaning. You are a good son, Kuei Jen. The very best of sons."
Kuei Jen blushed, then bowed his head. "Father ..."
"Chieh Hsia?"
He turned. "What is it, Master Nan?"
"Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but it seems your wife, Pei K'ung, has been waiting these past few hours to speak with you."
"Does she say why?"
"It seems it is a personal matter, Chieh Hsia. She will speak to no one but yourself."
Li Yuan huffed, exasperated. What with this, he was already behind with his work, and there would be no time to catch up, for he must leave at six to fly to meet Tsu Ma at his palace in Astrakhan.
"Tell her I shall come, Master Nan. Tell her—tell her I must finish here. She'll understand."
"Chieh Hsia."
He turned back, puzzled as to why Pei K'ung should wish to see him so urgently. Maybe her father was ill. Maybe that was it. Maybe she wanted permission to visit him.
The San Shih returned, bowing as they entered the hall again, then came across, presenting themselves formally to their T'ang.
"Well, ch'un tzu," he said, nervous himself now that the moment of decision had come. "Give me your verdict."
"The Prince spoke well," Old Luo began. "He answered confidently and, for the main part, correctly. His tutors are to be commended."
Li Yuan felt himself stiffen, hearing the unspoken but there behind the old man's words.
Luo continued. "His knowledge of the texts was good for one his age, though more work needs to be done on both the Shih Ching and the second book of the Li Ching, where his knowledge—though cor-rect—seems fairly thin."
"However . . ." Li Yuan said, impatient now.
The old man bowed his head slightly. "However, it is the feeling of all three of us that, while the Prince exhibits a good knowledge of the form of the Wu Ching—of the words and events set down in the texts—he is nonetheless of an age when . . . well, when perhaps the substance is not so strongly rooted in his being."
"Put bluntly, you think him too young."
"Not too young, Chieh Hsia, merely . . . inexperienced."
Li Yuan felt his anger welling and beat it down, maintaining a calm and stately demeanor.
"Inexperienced?" He turned away, taking a pace or two, as if considering the idea, then turned back, staring directly at Old Luo.
"You think my son too young, and you think, because I am a grown man, that I should agree with you. Well, ch'un tzu, let me say this. When my brother Han Ch'in was assassinated I was but eight years old. Only nine months older than Kuei Jen is now. Some men forget what they were like at that age, but I cannot. How I was that day—how I felt, what I thought, what I had experienced—is etched unforgettably in my memory."
He turned, looking at Kuei Jen.
"You look at my son and you see only a child—a precocious little boy who has learned his lessons well. But when I look at him I see myself, as 1 was, and remember what I was like at his age."
He looked back at the three men.
"You talk of form and substance, yet you forget the lessons of the Tao. What is a child but the seed of becoming? And if the seed is not sound, how will the tree grow straight?"
"So it might be, Chieh Hsia, yet is is our feeling—" "Oh, damn your feeling!" Li Yuan yelled, losing his temper. "Get out of here, loo jen! Now! Before I lose all patience with you!"
Luo blanched, then, looking to his fellow San Shih, backed away, his bow stiff and angry.
When they were gone, Li Yuan turned, looking to his son. Kuei Jen stood there, his head down, his face and neck scarlet with embarrassment.
"Kuei Jen?"
The young prince swallowed, then looked up at his father. Tears were welling in his eyes. "Call them back, father. Please. They are great men. Influential men. Besides maybe they are right. Maybe I am too young to be made a scholar."
"Nonsense! Luo Ye is an old fool! You answered all his questions perfectly!"
He shuddered with indignation, looking about him, defying anyone to gainsay him.
"Why, the nerve of the man! I am of a mind to—"
"Father!"
Li Yuan looked at Kuei Jen and frowned, noticing for the first time the tears that were coursing down his cheeks.
"Kuei Jen . . . what is it?"
"Please, father. Call them back and make peace with them. Before it's too late. Before any more damage is done."
Li Yuan sighed, his anger tempered by his son's obvious distress. "All right. But only because you wanted it so."
He turned, summoning the nearest of his retainers.
"Hu Chang ... go fetch the San Shih. Tell them I shall speak to them privately, in my study."
Then, turning back to Kuei Jen, he smiled and reached out to brush away the tears.
"You are right, Kuei Jen. It does not matter what the old men think. You and I know what you are. And maybe you are wiser than the San Shih. Much wiser, neh, my son?"
P EI K' U N G sat on a chair in the corridor facing her husband's rooms, her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. Nearby stood her secretaries and beyond them a group of guards and minor officials, all there at their T'ang's command.
The old men—the San Shih—had been in with him for more than twenty minutes now and she had heard raised voices more than once.
Dangerous, she thought, remembering how Li Yuan had lost his temper with her that evening and how she had felt. Yes, but she was only a wife—only the helpmeet of the T'ang. Those old men . . .
well, to alienate them was much more serious, for they were leading figures in the New Confucian hierarchy and without the wholehearted support of the New Confucians Li Yuan's position was greatly weak'
ened.
The door clicked open and the three graybeards backed out, bowing like comic figures in an opera. As the door closed they began to talk urgently among themselves, then fell silent, seeing her.
She rose imperiously from her chair and gave them a tight smile, then walked to the door and knocked.
Inside, Li Yuan was sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers on the surface impatiently.
"Husband," she said, dropping to her knees and lowering her head.
"Get up, Pei K'ung," he said, motioning her across. "What is it? Is your father ill?"
"My father?" She frowned then shook her head. "No. But 1 am angry."
He raised an eyebrow. :
"I visited the imperial library."
"And?"
She drew herself up straight, the full weight of her indignation in her voice. "And the old man sent me away as if I were a common serving maid!"
Li Yuan gave a shout of laughter and leaned toward her. "Chu Shi-
ch'e, you mean?"
She bristled with anger. "I don't see what is funny. You should punish him for his impudence!"
"Punish him? Punish Chu Shi-ch'e? Why, the man is ninety if he is a day! If I punished him I would kill him, and I am loath to do that, Pei K'ung. Besides, what did he say?"
"He said I could not look at the family archives. That I needed your permission."
He smiled. "So?"
She stared at him, astonished. "You mean . . . it's true?"
"Of course." He watched her, his eyes amused.
She let out a shuddering breath, then turned and went to the door. » "Pei K'ung . . ."