Side Story 6. Riding Alone to Beg Forgiveness
Xiao Dili had said all there was to say.
The imperial letter Yixin brought gave those words their names.
Deposition and enthronement.
Treason.
Yelü Chun waited no longer.
He ordered Xiao Dili's companions to be brought in separately and questioned again.
One by one, they confirmed what Yelü Zhangnu had said, how many troops had gone toward the Supreme Capital, the ritual vessels and documents intended for the Temple of the Founder, and how they had planned to use Yelü Chun's name.
Once the questioning was complete, Yelü Chun gave his order.
"Execute Xiao Dili and those who conspired with him."
The officials inside the residence drew in their breath.
Xiao Dili was the princess consort's own younger brother.
But the words he had brought were no longer the words of a relative.
They were the words of rebellion.
Yelü Chun drew the line clearly.
"Being kin to the princess consort does not make treason a small matter. He tried to borrow my name to depose the sovereign. His head will be presented to His Majesty."
The blade fell that very night.
Yelü Chun ordered that it be done quietly, but everyone in the residence understood what it meant.
He had been offered the throne.
Instead, he had made evidence to lay before the emperor.
He did not summon a large escort.
He reduced the number of men who would accompany him instead.
He ordered a single horse prepared, and had his reply, Xiao Dili's head, and the records of the interrogation sealed separately.
Then he put on his cloak and stepped outside.
The night air was bitterly cold.
One of his officials prostrated himself.
"Your Highness, please take more guards."
Yelü Chun shook his head.
"My name has already been raised in connection with treason. If I approach His Majesty with soldiers behind me, it will only give rise to another suspicion.
"I will go alone.
"I will prostrate myself before His Majesty and report everything in person."
No one spoke after that.
Yelü Chun understood exactly what he had to do.
He had to remove every possible appearance of a man coveting the throne.
He would gather no army.
He would not seal the city gates.
He would not bargain with ministers.
He would go directly to the emperor.
Yelü Chun mounted his horse alone.
Only a handful of guards followed at a distance.
White steam rose from the horse's nostrils beneath the lamps.
A box containing Xiao Dili's head and the sealed reply to the imperial letter were secured separately.
Yelü Chun looked one last time at the streets of Nanjing.
If he delayed, Yelü Zhangnu would use his name first.
If he moved quickly, he could take possession of his own name and lay it before the emperor himself.
"Open the gate."
The city gate opened.
Yelü Chun rode out without a body of troops behind him.
Only a few guards and the evidence to be presented to the emperor followed.
He cast aside the crown offered by rebels and chose the road of a subject.
It was not a glorious road.
But there could be no clearer declaration of loyalty.
Chapter 321. The Flawed Emperor— I Will Go Myself
Those who observed the emperor closely often spoke first of his stubbornness.
But stubbornness itself was not the true problem.
The problem was that he did not change his methods.
He rarely abandoned a way of doing things once he had grown accustomed to it.
Even when a minister proposed a new approach, if the idea did not immediately fit within his own understanding, he dismissed it.
He judged the world only by what he himself could understand, and treated the methods he knew as though they were the methods of the state itself.
When someone proposed a faster road, he spoke of procedure.
When someone suggested a better plan, he spoke of precedent.
When someone insisted that they had to move now, he said they should observe a little longer.
Such words sounded like caution.
In truth, they were closer to a habit of postponing decisions.
Until a problem finally burst into the open, he usually let it sit.
He remained at the hunting grounds.
He delayed reports.
Words he disliked were allowed to pass through his hearing without ever reaching his mind.
When a problem was still small, he said it was manageable.
When it grew large, he said his subordinates had failed to handle it properly.
Meanwhile, the army camps spread wider, the enemy came closer, and rumors flowed beneath the tents like water.
The emperor always felt wronged.
He sat upon the throne.
He received reports every day.
He summoned countless ministers and held endless meetings.
Surely, in his own mind, that meant he had done all that could be expected of him.
Every day he held meetings that accomplished nothing.
There was no conclusion, but at least something had been done.
Yet the affairs of the state did not move forward.
The meetings were long.
The conclusions were vague.
The orders came late.
Even the time lost to delay, he called prudence.
When a minister asked one question, the emperor answered another.
The question might be simple, yet his answer wandered elsewhere.
Within that wandering, responsibility blurred, and everyone began watching everyone else's face.
Every matter stretched out.
A decision that could have been made at once was divided into several meetings.
Who should handle it?
Who should be asked again?
Which additional report should arrive first?
From the outside, everyone seemed extraordinarily busy.
Horses galloped.
Documents moved back and forth.
Commanders passed in and out of the tents.
Yet the important decisions remained exactly where they had begun.
That busyness looked like motion.
In truth, it was hesitation wearing different clothes.
The emperor allowed broad excuses for himself and narrow responsibilities for everyone else.
When he was late, the situation had been complicated.
When a subordinate was late, it was negligence.
When he misjudged something, the information had been confused.
When a minister misjudged something, the man's loyalty was lacking.
The emperor always had circumstances.
Other men had crimes.
And so excuses accumulated around the throne.
His greatest fear was the word incompetence.
No one spoke it openly before him.
Yet the shadow behind every question pointed in that direction.
What have you done until now?
How did we come to be driven this far?
Will gathering every soldier truly bring victory?
What strategy does the emperor actually have?
He hated such questions.
He understood that the meaning inside them was directed at him.
So he shouted louder.
He held longer meetings.
He demanded more reports.
The more he did so, the more cautious everyone became.
And cautious men swallowed the truth even deeper.
The court and the army gradually learned to move according to the emperor's temperament.
Good news traveled upward quickly.
Unpleasant news moved slowly.
Numbers grew larger.
Failures received different names.
A delayed report became "the matter is being brought under control."
A poorly formed command became "confusion in the field."
Words the emperor disliked softened as they passed through many hands.
The softer those words became, the harsher reality grew.
The matter of Yelü Zhangnu had followed exactly that pattern.
At first, the deputy commander was merely absent for a short time.
Then someone said he had gone to treat his wounds.
Next came word that he had gone to perform rites at the Temple of the Founder.
Only at the end did the truth emerge:
he had taken his personal troops and clan members and marched toward the Supreme Capital.
Only then did the emperor finally face the word rebellion.
The signs had been there for a long time.
Yelü Zhangnu had once told him that the country would come to ruin if the emperor did nothing but hunt.
He had lamented what had become of Great Liao.
He had said that Tianzuo had lost the Way and that Yelü Chun was virtuous.
The emperor had found those words unpleasant.
So each time, he let them pass.
Words he did not wish to hear were always pushed into the future.
By the time that future arrived, those words had already become soldiers, wagons, and hoofbeats moving toward the Supreme Capital.
That was the emperor's deficiency.
He had never set out to become an evil man.
In fact, he believed deeply that he had committed no great evil.
But the failures of a ruler do not arise from malice alone.
Stubbornness.
Avoidance.
Excuses.
Delay.
Shifting responsibility.
The habit of trusting pleasant reports.
When such things accumulate a little each day, eventually they tilt an entire country to one side.
The emperor of Liao sat upon that tilted ground.
He was still emperor.
His armies were still vast.
His banners still flew beneath the sky.
Yet the men inside the command tents had already begun to understand.
The spearpoints of Jin were not the only thing to fear.
More frightening was the emperor's own way of ruling:
avoiding decisions, seeing reality too late, and scattering responsibility.
And war does not wait for such a man.
Late that night, the emperor summoned Xiao Fengxian.
Xiao Fengxian hurried into the command tent.
"Loyalty. You summoned me, Your Majesty?"
The emperor was already wearing his armor.
His face looked pale beneath the lamps, and his eyes shone feverishly.
He looked like a man who had spent a long time thinking.
Yet when he spoke, the words came quickly.
"We leave for the Supreme Capital under cover of darkness.
"We move quietly and in secrecy, kill that vile traitor Yelü Zhangnu, and return."
Xiao Fengxian's expression hardened.
"Your Majesty, this is a battlefield. The enemy stands directly before us. The moment we turn part of the army away, the Jin may attack."
The emperor waved a hand.
"The main force stays here.
"I will take only twenty thousand picked imperial troops.
"Move them twenty li from the camp before the night is over.
"No noise. This is to be a secret movement."
"Your Majesty—"
"Summon Abul, the Commissioner of the Hunting Grounds."
"Loyalty."
Xiao Fengxian turned and ordered the officer behind him,
"Bring Commissioner Abul and Yelü Zhangganu."
"Loyalty."
The officer withdrew.
Xiao Fengxian lowered himself again.
The emperor's agitation was plain to see.
His fingers repeatedly touched the end of his belt, while his eyes moved between the entrance of the tent and the map.
He had made his decision.
Yet he looked like a man struggling beneath the weight of the very decision he had made.
"Your Majesty."
The emperor cut him off first.
"I know.
"I know what you are going to say.
"The enemy is directly before us. Is that it?"
"Your Majesty…"
"Between rebellion within and an enemy without, which is more important?
"To men like you, perhaps it matters little who sits on the throne so long as you can keep commanding armies and fighting wars.
"But it is different for me.
"If I lose the throne to rebellion from within, what use is defeating an enemy outside?"
Xiao Fengxian lowered his head further.
"Your Majesty, that judgment is too extreme. Allow me to go instead. I will suppress the rebellion and return."
A bitter smile touched the emperor's mouth.
"You?"
Xiao Fengxian stopped breathing.
The naked distrust on the emperor's face sent a chill through him.
The emperor spoke quietly.
"I heard that when the enemy commander was tearing Changchun Road apart, you were there as well."
"Your Majesty, his martial strength was beyond anything we could resist."
"I heard who he was.
"A Goryeo commander named Yi Youngwoo.
"I also heard you had him nearly trapped and let him escape.
"And he went to Yelü Zhangnu's estate as well, did he not?
"What was it—a banquet?
"A birthday celebration?"
The emperor's gaze sharpened further.
"I heard that estate was built in a grand Central Plains style.
"Like a palace, they said.
"If Yelü Zhangnu had harbored no improper ambition, why would he live in such a residence and gather such people there?"
Xiao Fengxian clenched his teeth inwardly.
Every matter had become another problem.
The emperor was no longer looking for evidence of rebellion.
He was selecting facts that fit the conclusion he had already reached.
Still, Xiao Fengxian answered carefully.
"Your Majesty, that estate was built in that style by its former owner. Yelü Zhangnu merely purchased it later. That is why it is still called the Li Family Estate. It belonged to the Li clan of Jinzhou—"
The emperor slammed his hand onto the table.
"Enough!"
The lamp flames trembled.
The wooden markers on the map shook faintly.
The emperor shouted,
"Do not defend the rebel Yelü Zhangnu!"
Xiao Fengxian bowed even lower.
For a moment, only the sound of breathing remained inside the tent.
The emperor had already separated the words he wished to hear from the words he did not.
Whatever explanation Xiao Fengxian offered would immediately become an excuse or a defense of the rebel.
And so the decision of that night hardened further.
"It would certainly be convenient if you went and solved it.
"But what if he persuades you as well?"
"I would never betray Your Majesty."
"Yelü Zhangnu already did.
"And he is of the imperial clan."
The emperor raised both hands and clenched his fists.
The gesture looked less like that of a sovereign than that of a sick man.
"We go quietly.
"No one hears of it.
"We return before anyone knows."
Xiao Fengxian bowed.
"Loyalty."