The Emperor and the Assassins
The two ‘envoys’ from the Land of Swallows walked into the palace, past armoured guards with swords and savage ‘dagger-axe’ halberds. Jing Ke raised the box containing the head of the traitor general, so that all in the room might see him. Behind him, Wuyang carried the heavy roll of the map, concealing the all-important dagger within it. They walked along an aisle in the king’s great hall, through the crowd of assembled ministers. The king they had come to kill waited for them at the other end, sitting on a raised dais, alone.
Although the advisers of the king despised the traditions of Confucius, there were still some policies that they readily adopted. One was the political application of feng shui - an acknowledgement that the character of a state could be conveyed through architecture. Government buildings were designed to instil respect in their visitors, and also fear. To reach the king, a visitor had to climb the steps before the imposing palace of Xianyang, a building deliberately constructed to convey its owner’s supremacy. They passed imposing pillars and soaring roofs, walking along corridors and courtyards faced with baked bricks of grey clay. From a distance, the palace looked drab and utilitarian. Up close, visitors would see that the muted, military walls were etched with images of coiling dragons. The grey floor on was tiled with patterns of swirling curlicues around symbolic solar discs. When in the presence of the king of Qin, visitors walked upon the image of the sun itself.
Jing Ke, says the Record of the Historian, maintained his composure, exhibiting the coolness under extreme stress that had been a contributing factor in his selection. Wuyang, however, began to lose his nerve. The king was nothing more than a lone man, sitting on a raised platform in the throne room. But he was the ruler of the harshest nation of the known world, and surrounded by hundreds of his closest followers. It is possible that the younger Wuyang, less likely to have considered his own mortality and place in the order of things, had regarded his mission until that point as simply one more brawl, and was only now appreciating the miniscule chance he had of getting out alive.
As the pair reached the dais at the end of the throne room, Wuyang turned pale and began to visibly shake. His sudden attack of nerves was conspicuous enough to draw comments from the crowd. At the very moment so many people of Yan had died to bring about, Wuyang risked ruining the entire plan.
Jing Ke, however, laughed it off. He addressed the bemused king of Qin directly, and announced that Wuyang was a barbarian from the savage tribes beyond the northern borders. He had never before gazed upon so august a sight as the king of Qin, claimed Jing Ke, and the poor simpleton was finding the entire experience of being in the palace somewhat overwhelming. Jing Ke begged the king’s indulgence, but the king was impatient.
He demanded to see the map - an order that caused Jing Ke to set down the general’s head, take the map from the trembling Wuyang, and advance onto the steps of the dais itself. Nobody dared follow him. Although the dais was open to the throne room, nobody was permitted upon it without the king’s permission. The armed guards were outside, and would not enter the chamber without the express order of the king.
The king of Qin took one end of the map from Jing Ke, tugging it away from him so that it unfurled between them. Slowly, the map was revealed, detailing the new borders of the king’s domain, incorporating the area of terrain that had once belonged to the Land of Swallows. As the last few inches of the map unrolled, it also revealed the dagger, nestled in the final turn of the scroll.
Jing Ke grabbed the king, snatching at the end of his long sleeve with his left hand. With his right, he grabbed the knife, plunging it towards the king’s chest. The king of Qin, however, had time to react, springing backwards, his sleeve tearing off in Jing Ke’s hand, the knife missing him. The king leapt to his feet, struggling to tug the unwieldy ceremonial sword from its scabbard.
The sword at the king’s waist was too long to be easily drawn from it sheath, causing the king to scurry away from Jing Ke. He darted behind a pillar while his assembled attendants watched in paralysed fascination - none of them dared step on the dais themselves to intercede. The king had forbidden anyone to approach him without his command, and even after he fled from a man with a knife, his subjects remained strictly, doggedly obedient to his wishes.
The scuffle on the dais can only have lasted for a few seconds, but remains one of the most famous incidents in Chinese history. The king’s doctor hurled his medicine bag at Jing Ke, distracting him for a crucial moment, while other courtiers yelled for the guards to come. Someone, unnamed in the Record of the Historian, shouted at the king to put his sword behind his back, turning his belt so that the scabbard trailed behind him.
The king swiftly did so, emerging from behind the pillar with the sword drawn. Even as Jing Ke found the tables turned, the king’s sword struck down and cut into the assassin’s thigh. The king struck his assailant a further seven times, leaving him slumped bloody against another pillar. Only then did the guards arrive, and deliver the coup de grace to Jing Ke.
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Excerpt 1: The Divine Destiny
© 2006 Muramasa Industries Ltd.