Andrew Bennett flipped through the booklet with a loud “swish” and said, “When these outside officials enter the capital, they can’t avoid offering ‘ice tribute’ to the capital officials. But Edward Foster is so high and mighty—he makes a clear list, and only by paying every item can you have peace.”
“And that’s just the ‘small change’ at the start of the year.” Benjamin Harris skimmed the tea foam and said, “Let me break down the accounts for you. The little eunuchs under Edward Foster collect more silver in a year than the border garrisons get for two years’ worth of military pay. Every year, Great Zhou wages war, and whenever the Ministry of Revenue asks us to send troops, they beg and plead as if we’re their own fathers. But once the fighting’s over, we become the pitiful debt collectors.”
“Only the rich are respected.” Andrew Bennett said with a laugh.
“At the end of last year, when we rushed to the rescue, we marched from Li Bei through the snow. The troops were exhausted, and the cavalry’s equipment had to be repaired before spring. The workshops have been owed money for days, and everywhere needs funds.” Matthew Lee calculated carefully in his mind and said, “Before entering the capital, the Li Bei garrison had to convert their annual grain into silver, and every day was a struggle to make ends meet. Our princess, even during festivals, doesn’t dare to buy fine clothes for the household. Edward Foster, a mere inner court official, collects more silver than the total tax revenue of Duanzhou. The censors sent to the provinces all act like bullies, but what does it matter? In the capital, they don’t even dare to make a peep!”
“We’re poor.” Benjamin Harris sighed. “Every year, we worry about silver. Now that Jiming has entered the capital, for his sake, the Ministry of Revenue didn’t dare delay—they submitted the funds to the cabinet early, and Edward Foster approved it without fuss. The silver should be allocated before we leave the capital.”
“We have our eldest brother.” Andrew Bennett set down the booklet and looked at Benjamin Harris. “What’s your plan?”
“The emperor won’t see me.” Benjamin Harris said. “The Lu family can’t get a foothold in the capital. The Eight Great Clans have always treated us like barbarians from the desert, and the Hua family won’t even look us in the eye. But as for currying favor with Edward Foster, I don’t have the money—my family is so poor we can barely put food on the table. In other places, you can open up military farms as an emergency measure, but in our border region, it’s endless yellow sand—there’s no land to farm. On this campaign, all twenty thousand of my troops have been eating from Marshal King’s private funds. To put it bluntly, if it weren’t for Marshal King’s compassion, my soldiers wouldn’t have made it past Tianfei Gate. But how much silver can Marshal King have? She’s using the dowry the old princess left her! Even her own private soldiers are about to sell their pants! The Ministry of Revenue keeps playing games with me, shirking responsibility—when it comes to my accounts, they just refuse to allocate funds, knowing full well that I, Benjamin Harris, am powerless.”
It was rare for Benjamin Harris to lose his temper. He truly had no options. As the border commander stationed at the edge of the desert, he dealt with the border cavalry more than anyone except Li Bei. Year after year, he toiled endlessly, scraping by under the threat of scimitars, never getting a full night’s sleep, and always going hungry. The capital pressed down on him, and the Border Marquis had long become known among the nobility as the poorest of the lot. Every reward his family received was immediately converted to silver to support the army’s needs.
Charles Bennett was neatly dressed, and the maids filed out one after another. Only the four of them remained in the room. Charles Bennett picked up a teacup, took a sip, and said unhurriedly, “This year is a good time—the New Year’s Day banquet for all officials. Lily King should be arriving, right?”
Benjamin Harris said, “That’s right. I was worried at first, but then I thought, let them drag their feet. Once the Marshal enters the capital, they’ll have to fend for themselves.”
Charles Bennett said, “Right now, she’s the most influential person in the capital—even the local thugs who handle the ‘tiger skin money’[1] have to show her respect. The old debts can be repaid, but you can’t rely on her alone. The border region is important. I heard yesterday that this year the Ministry of Revenue wants you to recruit more soldiers.”
Benjamin Harris rubbed the rim of his teacup and said, “Recruit? Don’t even think about it. Something happened in the six prefectures of Zhongbo, and they’re scared—worried the border region will be attacked by the twelve border tribes, thinking my twenty thousand troops aren’t enough. But even if I can recruit, will they give me the money? I can’t afford it. Even if they put a knife to my throat this year, I won’t do it.”
Andrew Bennett suddenly sat up straight and said, “That’s right. In the past, the Ministry of Revenue was quickest to allocate military pay and rations for the six prefectures of Zhongbo. Now that everyone’s dead, they don’t mention the money—what about the grain? When the border cavalry retreated, they couldn’t have taken that much grain with them.”
The other three looked at him.
Benjamin Harris said, “Silly boy, stop thinking about it. All that grain was used to make up for last year’s unpaid salaries in the thirteen cities of Juexi. Do you know why the Ministry of Revenue keeps making excuses? In recent years, the Eight Great Clans have become the Eight Great Camps, and their equipment and supplies are the best in Great Zhou. All that money comes straight from the tax revenue—think about it, two million taels, anyone can see the accounts are insane. But the Empress Dowager doesn’t investigate, Elder Hua doesn’t investigate, so who in the Ministry of Revenue would dare bring it up? The treasury is empty. Last year, the thirteen cities of Juexi suffered a locust plague and had a total crop failure—where was there money for disaster relief? It was all thanks to the Juexi Provincial Governor James Hill, who forced every official in the province to open up their private grain stores for relief. James Hill saved hundreds of thousands of people with this, but the local officials in Juexi hate him to the bone. I heard at the end of last year that debt collectors were blocking his door. He’s a second-rank provincial governor, but his eighty-year-old mother is still weaving cloth to pay off debts! If the capital doesn’t send money soon, they’re pushing people to their deaths. In the end, it was Elder Hai who submitted a memorial and negotiated with the cabinet and Edward Foster for half a month before barely filling the gap.”