On the third morning after leaving Xinye (新野), Liu Bei’s (劉備) party reached the west gate of Xiangyang (襄陽). The road before the gate was narrow — a breadth in which two horses could hardly stand side by side. Liu Bei dismounted, held the reins in his left hand, and looked up at the gate for a while. The banner above him stirred slightly, not in any strong wind, but in something more like the breath of the old walls themselves.

Above the gate hung the red banner of Jingzhou’s (荊州) Inspector’s residence. It fluttered low in the autumn wind. Liu Bei lifted his face and studied the banner. Then he turned back to Guan Yu (關羽) and Zhang Fei (張飛) behind him.

“Yunchang (雲長). Yide (翼德). The seat within this gate is not like other seats. Stand three paces apart from one another.”

Guan Yu bowed his head. Zhang Fei gave a short snort, but nodded in the end.

A civil officer came out from within the gate. He was tall, with a sparse beard. His face was fair and his gaze clear.

“I make my bow to Your Highness the Imperial Uncle Liu (劉皇叔). I am Yi Ji (伊籍), an attending official (從事) of Jingzhou. My style-name is Jibo (機伯).”

Yi Ji clasped his hands in greeting. Liu Bei returned the greeting. For a brief moment their eyes met. In that single beat, Yi Ji’s gaze passed over Liu Bei’s rear, over Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, then returned to Liu Bei’s eyes.

“Your Highness. The conference is held in the public hall (公廳) from noon. The banquet follows, in the Western Garden (西園).”

“The Western Garden, you say…”

“Yes. The Western Garden.”

As he said so, Yi Ji dropped his gaze to the ground. That lowered gaze did not return for one beat longer than it should have.

The conference in the public hall was quiet, rather.

Liu Biao (劉表), Inspector of Jingzhou, sat at the highest seat. His old face was dry and yellow — leaner than last year. A cough cut off the end of one sentence, and then another. The matter of the conference was the movements of Cao Cao (曹操) in the north. The attendees each offered a line.

Liu Bei’s turn came. Without rising, he spoke quietly from his seat.

“Elder brother. I have heard that Guo Jia (郭嘉) has passed. Cao Cao will, for a while, draw back a single beat of his own breath. Within that moment, Jingzhou must steady its inside; before anything else, that is the work to do.”

Liu Biao nodded. Below the high seat, Cai Mao (蔡瑁) cleared his throat.

“When Your Highness says steady the inside, might I ask, which inside?”

Liu Bei looked at Cai Mao.

“The pause of Jingzhou’s army and people (民) — that inside.”

He answered in short words. He did not add to them. A short smile came to the corner of Cai Mao’s mouth. That smile did not quite go away for a long time.

The conference ended, and the banquet opened at the Western Garden.

Many rows of tables were laid out. The seats of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei were placed one strand into a side room, three paces from Liu Bei’s seat. Cai Mao had quietly shifted their seats outward. Guan Yu sat down without a word. Zhang Fei bit his lip. Liu Bei made a very small gesture to Zhang Fei, Be still.

The cups went round once. Twice. Midway through, Liu Biao’s cough grew long, and he withdrew to the inner hall. With the Inspector gone from the banquet, Cai Mao’s face began to press slightly forward.

Around the third round of cups, Yi Ji rose quietly and walked into the back garden. Liu Bei’s eyes followed his back. After a moment, Liu Bei rose as well — “I shall step out briefly” — and left his seat.

By a well in the back garden, Yi Ji was waiting. When he heard footsteps behind him, Yi Ji whispered low.

“Your Highness. Before this night is out, pass out through the west gate of Xiangyang. Cai Mao has already posted soldiers outside three gates — east, south, and north.”

“And the west gate?”

“On the west side lies a stream called Tanxi (檀溪). The water is deep and the bed is mire. Cai Mao placed no soldiers at the west gate, because he believes that no one can cross that stream.”

Liu Bei’s back stiffened. But his two eyes made their resolve quickly.

“Jibo. This grace tonight, one day, far hence, I shall repay.”

“The grace has already been repaid to me, when Your Highness’s Dilu (的盧) leaps that stream tonight.”

Yi Ji bowed his head and went back to the banquet ahead of him. Liu Bei caught a measure of breath, and returned to his seat with a face on which nothing had happened.

The fourth round of cups went. The fifth went. Cai Mao raised his cup high. Liu Bei let his own cup clink against it, lightly.

Outside, Dilu was already, inside a small stable beneath the west gate, swaying the white strand of his brow low.

—

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