Chapter 1698: Hiding Soldiers Among the People

The autumn sun, thin as silk threads, shone into the rear garden of the Yuan estate. This rear garden of the Yuan family had no rockeries, azure lakes, pavilions, or towers—it was quite crude, with only a stretch of lawn, a few scattered tamarisk trees, and a row of hedge chrysanthemums along the wall, barely counting as decoration.

The entire rear garden was, in fact, a drill ground. Though modest in scale, its arrangements were proper and methodical, all laid out according to military regulations. Over the past two years, this rear garden had also become forbidden ground within the Yuan estate.

Even Yuan Ke's wives and concubines, wishing to enjoy the scenery, could only go outside the estate, to the shores of Ming Lake, or to Dingbian City.

"One!"

"Two!"

Drill chants echoed through the rear residence. At this moment, there were about thirty men in the drill ground—one could tell at a glance they were all elite warriors, and in their hands they held finely refined steel blades.

Yuan Ke also had a stockpile of standard-issue hengdao sabers, but they were too conspicuous, and Yuan Ke dared not equip his estate guards with them. The court's control over military equipment did not include light arms like swords and sabers, and in remote border regions like Yanzhou, virtually every civilian carried a blade—most of them issued by the court itself, precisely so that the people could defend themselves.

In fact, apart from the early years of the founding, when the court's resources were scarce and it had confiscated iron and bronze implements from the populace on a large scale to cast weapons, thereafter, with the improvement of iron-smelting technology and output, the use of iron implements was fully opened up to the common people.

The court controlled the mining, smelting, transport, and sale of iron, but it vigorously supported the civilian smelting and forging of iron implements. After more than thirty years of development, ironware and weapon workshops had spread densely throughout the Great Han's populace—large ones like ironworks factories, small ones like workshops, and even at the basic village level, there were one or two blacksmith shops.

Blacksmiths skilled in smelting iron and forging implements had always been among the most sought-after professions among the Great Han's common folk, and the most numerous apprentices among the populace were blacksmith apprentices. Though the trade was hard, it was indeed a skilled craft—once one learned the skill and completed apprenticeship, one basically never worried about food or clothing again.

The workshops originally operated by the court had also gradually abandoned the production of ordinary ironware and farm tools, because the private sector already had sufficient substitutes, and on a larger scale with higher output—even if not as refined as the court workshops' products, they were adequate for use.

The Great Han's martial vigor was abundant, and one point of it was perhaps reflected in the ample weaponry among the populace—this is what is called "hiding soldiers among the people." But everything has its pros and cons; the reason local public security in the Great Han had always remained in a tense state, requiring a crackdown every few years, was also partly due to this.

Violent weapons often serve as a man's courage. A child holding a knife can still kill; cases where people come to blows and kill over a single disagreement are actually quite common among the populace.

For local government offices, an isolated homicide case, or even bandits killing and robbing, was nothing much. The biggest headache was the armed feuds between villages.

Although this was strictly prohibited by Han law, several cases still occurred every year, and once they broke out, casualties were heavy—because the weapons they used were not carrying poles and hoes, but "the eighteen kinds of weapons."

Not a few officials lost their posts over this. Even though Han law explicitly stipulated that killers must die, in such group incidents, it could not be fully applied.

Though Han law was strict, it was not as harsh as Qin law. If one strictly enforced the law, even basic evidence collection could hardly be done on individuals; coupled with the principle that "the law cannot punish the multitude," in the end, they often only arrested a few typical offenders and executed them to intimidate the populace.

As for fully strict enforcement of the law—unless it involved rebellion, it was impossible to wield the sword of punishment broadly against ordinary people.

Someone once said that the court killed officials cleanly and decisively, while government offices killed people timidly and hesitantly. The "court" here, of course, referred to Emperor Liu.

In view of the frequent public security incidents among the populace, endless armed feuds, and rampant banditry, last year someone argued that the failure to ban civilian weapons was the greatest cause of unstable public order, and proposed to Emperor Liu that they should emulate the early founding years—confiscating civilian weapons and prohibiting ordinary people from owning swords, sabers, bows, and spears.

However, this suggestion was rejected by Emperor Liu after brief deliberation. The reasoning Emperor Liu gave was very simple: a kitchen knife, a hoe, even a carrying pole can kill. As for banning weapons among the people—not to mention the difficulty—even if it were truly accomplished, would it prevent bloodshed among the populace?

The root cause still lay with people themselves. The common folk largely lacked education, did not know the law, and found it hard to obey it. When problems arose, the fault lay first with local officials.

The court employed them to govern the localities, educate the people, and maintain public order—that was inherently their duty. Therefore, attributing unstable public order to weapons was a manifestation of seeking ease, fearing difficulty, and being lazy in governance—a method that treated the symptoms rather than the root cause.

As for killers, the guilt lay with the person, not the killing sword or saber; sentencing according to law sufficed to deal with them. As for bandits causing trouble, there were constables and soldiers for that—this was their duty. If local banditry was not cleared and harmed the people, then the first to be held accountable were still the local officials.

Consequently, right after this, Emperor Liu had the Hall of State Affairs formulate a regulation: wherever armed feuds occurred in the localities resulting in injuries, the chief official would be held accountable first; wherever banditry plagued the people and could not be eradicated, the chief official would be held accountable first.

And whether it was the censors or the Wude Office, from then on they also gained one more item in their monitoring of the localities—and this item of surveillance was not difficult. When this policy was promulgated throughout the realm, it immediately stirred waves, and many people cried out that officials could hardly live in peace.

Of course, regarding civilian weapons, some arguments did indeed arouse concern among many officials. That is—hiding soldiers among the people had its benefits, but in peaceful times, when the people did not need to defend their homes and country, the people possessing deadly weapons was a source of chaos. What if they were used to resist the court?

To be sure, people committing murder in violation of the law, engaging in armed feuds with blades, or even gathering in bands to become bandits—none of these were serious matters to the court. The court had its own response mechanisms, and it was hard for such things to directly threaten its own rule.

To the predators of the ruling class, the masses were like ants, the common folk like weeds. Life-and-death struggles among ants—no matter how many casualties, no matter how great the losses—did not matter.

Even those bandits and robbers who did harm and evil were, in essence, just so many chives waiting to be harvested. Above their heads hung the sky of the Great Han, and that sky bore the surname Liu. The people they killed were Han citizens, and the money they robbed was stamped with "Qianyou Tongbao" or "Kaibao Tongbao."

But just as some officials worried—if the lowly commoners who possessed swords and sabers used these weapons to resist the court, would that not be a tremendous hidden danger?

Even Emperor Liu was startled by this view. However, Emperor Liu was ultimately not someone who could be frightened into submission. He thought very clearly: the court held the most powerful machinery of violence and must have the strength and confidence to suppress everything.

And what was even more critical—if the empire truly reached the point where the people rose up en masse in rebellion, then whether weapons were restricted or not would no longer matter at all. That would mean the empire deserved to fall. As long as the court itself had no problems, all would be well; and if problems did arise, they would never be limited to just this one point.

In fact, due to limitations of perspective, there was often a survivorship bias. In some people's eyes, what they saw was the proliferation of weapons, the strife and casualties.

However, on the whole, the Great Han was still peaceful. Especially in the interior—the core ruling regions of the Great Han—even without banning weapons, it was not that every household carried swords and every family had blades. Ordinary people found kitchen knives, axes, and woodcutting knives sufficient. What decent person would go buy a weapon to keep at home? The price was not low—wouldn't it be better to forge a plowshare or a hoe?

Compared to the interior, weapons in the border regions were truly and genuinely rampant to the point of becoming a scourge. For instance, in present-day Yanzhou, one dared not leave the house without carrying a knife. Whether farmers or herders, while working, they always kept weapons at their waists.

In the past, the court had issued a series of restrictive policies toward the Khitan in Mobei, with iron implements being the most critical item. However, imposing an embargo on the one hand while allowing border residents to carry weapons on the other—the ultimate effect of this, one can well imagine.

Even if large-scale trade did not exist, small-scale, small-batch transactions flowed without cease.

Of course, due to Emperor Liu's attitude, the blockade against the Khitan still existed even in the twenty-first year of Kaibao, and the two sides remained in a hostile relationship. Yet, exchanges between the peoples grew ever more frequent.

At the border markets, there was no shortage of people willing to risk trading with the Khitan for huge profits. In response, the relevant departments did not pursue them relentlessly—otherwise, if the smugglers were gone, what use would the anti-smuggling officials be?

In fact, nowadays, among the Khitan tribesmen of Mobei, apart from barter, the currency they used daily was the Great Han's tongbao coins, and precious metals like gold and silver were also valued according to the Great Han's "exchange rates." One could say that although the Great Han had always found it difficult to conquer Mobei by force, its economic influence was quietly deepening.

Were it not for that prohibition, opening up exchanges and trade might have yielded even better results—but who could blame the two sides for being enemies for decades, with "hatred as deep as the sea"?

In such an environment, among Yuan Ke's trading partners were Khitan. However, due to the great distance and excessive risk, he suffered heavy losses.

And Yuan Ke was not short of weapons—at least not short of ordinary weapons like swords and sabers.