Note: The narrative below, though about the Zhou Dynasty, is my rendition of them, and not an account of an actual event. In other words, it's not real, but the people and the result are. (Of course, if I were an actual time traveler, it would be all true. But, sadly, I am not, and there no records of what actually happened there.)
We will rise
By Lindsey
The night was still and silent, the yellow moon illuminating the land for miles. It was this light that sent shadows sweeping into the Wei River Valley, smoothly diving between the meager houses and resting upon the center of the Zhou village, where not two hours ago a roaring fire had been. The shadows consumed the fire pit, embracing the very place that was made to repel them. Now they found they were warded off by something, somewhere, quite different.
A soft light escaped from a crack in the closed shutters of the largest house, and along with it hushed voices. Together they cut into the darkness like dull knife, desperately trying to keep their existence unknown. But they repelled the shadows nonetheless.
Suddenly, the voices became raised, and the light flickered. Inside the village meeting house, a commotion was up. One man stood upon the sole table in the room, addressing the other 75 men in the room, who all stood facing him. All except one, that is. This one man, standing at the foot of the table and facing the audience, was in fact the son of the man on the table, and his name was Ji Fa. He was the son of the leader of the Zhou tribe, just west of the Shang Dynasty’s rule.
Any other man would have looked ridiculous atop a table, but not his father. Not the great Wen Wang. Wen, despite his awkward position, maintained his air of authority and dignity like no one else could. He had the attention of every man in the room, and that was where it would stay. No one could take their eyes off this middle-aged man with a luscious black beard and small mustache that was describing something so absurd that success was practically unfathomable.
Ji Fa allowed himself a small smile. They will not be so unbelieving once my father explains the plan. Unfortunately, he frowned, he may not get the chance. The room had gone in uproar as soon as Wen had told them all why a meeting had been called. All the men wished they were in bed, and did not appreciate being deprived of sleep for an impossible suggestion. Ji Fa had thought the task hopeless as well, before his father had elaborated. They will soon understand, he added, if they ever stop bickering!
Wen stroked his beard. He knew his brilliant idea would have some interesting reactions, to say the least, but he also knew he’d either have to wait it out, or begin his explanation. Waiting for the voices to stop fighting over one another would take the whole night, he realized. So, without another moment’s hesitation, he hopped off the table and unrolled a map he had bought off a merchant from the Shang. He required Ji Fa’s help, as it was a fairly big map, and they both settled it onto the table. Wen pulled a few wooden markers, some black some white, from his pockets, and started to place them on specific targets. When he was finished, he stood again before his audience with his son at his side.
“You do not believe it can be done? Then look at this, and tell me again that it is as unattainable as you claim now.”
Wen’s firm voice sliced through the nearly ear-splitting noise. The volume was reduced to a murmur, and all eyes turned to him, hungry to see his proof, whether they admitted it or not. Not one of them could pretend that they did not want what Wen had to offer, and wanted nothing more than for it to be possible. But it simply could not be done.
The mass of eyes lowered from Wen himself to what he was gesturing at. Gasps could be heard from all who could see, and those who couldn’t see pushed their way towards the front, and released gasps as well. What they were seeing was something that the Zhou had never done before. Had never even thought of doing.
“The white markers represent the tribes we must ally in order to have sufficient holds in the places indicated by the black markers. Destroying the enemy’s power there will increase their weakness, the weakness they already possess due to the tribes in the north and east. Then we can strike in the places that will hurt the enemy in more ways than one; the roads here, the bridge there.
“Open your eyes, brothers! The time has come for us to liberate the poor people under our enemy, and raise our families to the highest degree!”
Now there was cheering in the crowd. Ji Fa led the cry, pounding a fist into the air. Now they saw. The only way to heaven was to ally with demons.
Wen continued. “No longer will we be known as a simple tribe! Our tale will be written in gold!”
The voices were almost deafening.
“Gentlemen,” Wen Wang lowered his voice slightly, and the noise went down with it, “The Shang’s time is up. We will have its own people fighting in our ranks. We are next on the gods’ list. The Mandate of Heaven has gone to us, my friends. We, the Zhou, are the next in line!”
And so began a three year war for power, 200 years of success, and 600 years of decline.
So began the Zhou Dynasty.
A soft light escaped from a crack in the closed shutters of the largest house, and along with it hushed voices. Together they cut into the darkness like dull knife, desperately trying to keep their existence unknown. But they repelled the shadows nonetheless.
Suddenly, the voices became raised, and the light flickered. Inside the village meeting house, a commotion was up. One man stood upon the sole table in the room, addressing the other 75 men in the room, who all stood facing him. All except one, that is. This one man, standing at the foot of the table and facing the audience, was in fact the son of the man on the table, and his name was Ji Fa. He was the son of the leader of the Zhou tribe, just west of the Shang Dynasty’s rule.
Any other man would have looked ridiculous atop a table, but not his father. Not the great Wen Wang. Wen, despite his awkward position, maintained his air of authority and dignity like no one else could. He had the attention of every man in the room, and that was where it would stay. No one could take their eyes off this middle-aged man with a luscious black beard and small mustache that was describing something so absurd that success was practically unfathomable.
Ji Fa allowed himself a small smile. They will not be so unbelieving once my father explains the plan. Unfortunately, he frowned, he may not get the chance. The room had gone in uproar as soon as Wen had told them all why a meeting had been called. All the men wished they were in bed, and did not appreciate being deprived of sleep for an impossible suggestion. Ji Fa had thought the task hopeless as well, before his father had elaborated. They will soon understand, he added, if they ever stop bickering!
Wen stroked his beard. He knew his brilliant idea would have some interesting reactions, to say the least, but he also knew he’d either have to wait it out, or begin his explanation. Waiting for the voices to stop fighting over one another would take the whole night, he realized. So, without another moment’s hesitation, he hopped off the table and unrolled a map he had bought off a merchant from the Shang. He required Ji Fa’s help, as it was a fairly big map, and they both settled it onto the table. Wen pulled a few wooden markers, some black some white, from his pockets, and started to place them on specific targets. When he was finished, he stood again before his audience with his son at his side.
“You do not believe it can be done? Then look at this, and tell me again that it is as unattainable as you claim now.”
Wen’s firm voice sliced through the nearly ear-splitting noise. The volume was reduced to a murmur, and all eyes turned to him, hungry to see his proof, whether they admitted it or not. Not one of them could pretend that they did not want what Wen had to offer, and wanted nothing more than for it to be possible. But it simply could not be done.
The mass of eyes lowered from Wen himself to what he was gesturing at. Gasps could be heard from all who could see, and those who couldn’t see pushed their way towards the front, and released gasps as well. What they were seeing was something that the Zhou had never done before. Had never even thought of doing.
“The white markers represent the tribes we must ally in order to have sufficient holds in the places indicated by the black markers. Destroying the enemy’s power there will increase their weakness, the weakness they already possess due to the tribes in the north and east. Then we can strike in the places that will hurt the enemy in more ways than one; the roads here, the bridge there.
“Open your eyes, brothers! The time has come for us to liberate the poor people under our enemy, and raise our families to the highest degree!”
Now there was cheering in the crowd. Ji Fa led the cry, pounding a fist into the air. Now they saw. The only way to heaven was to ally with demons.
Wen continued. “No longer will we be known as a simple tribe! Our tale will be written in gold!”
The voices were almost deafening.
“Gentlemen,” Wen Wang lowered his voice slightly, and the noise went down with it, “The Shang’s time is up. We will have its own people fighting in our ranks. We are next on the gods’ list. The Mandate of Heaven has gone to us, my friends. We, the Zhou, are the next in line!”
And so began a three year war for power, 200 years of success, and 600 years of decline.
So began the Zhou Dynasty.