Romance of the Three Kingdoms II (13 page)

On arrival, all Ts'ao Ts'ao's officers persuaded him to become Prince of Wei. Only the president of a Board, Ts'ui Yen, spoke strongly against the scheme.

"You are, then, the only man who knows not the fate of Hsun Wen-yo," said his colleagues.

"Such times! Such deeds!" cried Tsui Yen. "You are guilty of rebellion, but you may commit it yourselves. I will bear no part in it.

Certain enemies told Ts'ao Ts'ao, and Ts'ui Yen was thrown into prison. At his trial he glared like a tiger and his very beard curled with contempt; he raged and cursed at Ts'ao Ts'ao for a betrayer of his prince, and a rebel. The interrogating magistrate reported his conduct to Ts'ao, who ordered Ts'ui to be beaten to death in prison.

Ts'ui Yen was born in Ch'ingho.
Firm and unyielding was he,
With beard crisp curling and gleaming eyes,
Which showed the man of stone and iron within.
He drave the evil from his presence,
And his glory is fair and high.
For loyalty to his lord of Han,
His fame shall increase as the ages roll.

In the twenty-first year of the period "Established Tranquillity," in the fifth month of that year, a great memorial signed by many officers went up to the Emperor Hsien, praying that Ts'ao Ts'ao be granted the title of prince for his manifest merits and signal services to the state, exceeding those rendered by any minister before him. The memorial was approved, and a draft Edict was prepared by the famous Chung Yu. Thrice Ts'ao Ts'ao with seeming modesty pretended to decline the honour, but thrice was his refusal rejected. Finally he made his obeisance and was enrolled as "Prince of Wei" with the usual insignia and privileges, a head-dress (or coronet) with twelve strings of beads and a chariot with gilt shafts, drawn by six steeds. But he arrogantly used an imperial chariot with bells and had the roads cleared when he passed along. He built himself a palace at YehChun.

Then he began to discuss the appointment of an heir-apparent. His real wife, of the Ting family, was without issue, but a concubine had borne him a son, Ts'ao Ang, who had been killed in battle at the siege of Wanch'eng. A second concubine, of the P'ien family, had borne him four sons, P ei, Chang, Chih and Hsiung. Wherefore he elevated her to the rank of princess-consort in place of the Lady Ting. The third son, Chih, also known as Tzu-chien, was very clever and a ready master of composition. Ts'ao Ts'ao wished him to be named the heir. Then the eldest son sought from the high officer Chia Hsu a plan to secure his rights of primogeniture, and Hsu told him to do so-and-so. Thereafter, whenever the father went out on any military expedition, Ts'ao Chih wrote fulsome panegyrics, but Ts'ao Chih wept so copiously at bidding his father farewell that the courtiers were deeply affected and remarked that though the one son was crafty and clever he was not so sincerely filial as the other. Ts'ao P'ei also bought over his father's immediate attendants, who then rang the praises of his virtues so loud that Ts'ao Ts'ao was strongly disposed to name him as the heir after all.

After hesitating a long time, the matter was referred to Chia Hsu.

"I wish to name my heir; who shall it be?"

Chia Hsu would not say, and Ts'ao Ts'ao asked why.

"I was just recalling the past in my mind and could not reply at once," said Chia.

"What were you recalling?"

"I was thinking of two fathers: Yuan Pen-ch'u (Yuan Shao) and Liu Chinghsing (Liu Piao) and their sons."

Ts'ao Ts'ao smiled. Soon after this he declared his eldest son his heir.

In the tenth month the building of the palace of the new Prince of Wei was completed and the furnishing begun. From all parts were collected rare flowers and uncommon trees to beautify the gardens. One agent went into Wu and saw Sun Ch'uan, to whom he presented a letter from Ts'ao Ts'ao asking that he might be allowed to proceed to Wenchow to get some oranges. At that period Sun Ch'uan was in a most complaisant mood toward Ts'ao Ts'ao, so from the orange trees in his own city he picked forty very fine fruits and sent them immediately to YehChun.

On the way, one of the bearers of the oranges fell ill and they had to stop at the foot of a certain hill. There came along an elderly man, blind of one eye and lame of one leg, who wore a white rattan head-dress and a black loose robe. He saluted the bearers and stayed to talk.

Presently he said, "Your burdens are heavy, O porters, may this old Taoist lend you a shoulder? What do you say?"

Naturally they were pleased enough, and the amiable way-farer bore each load for five
li.
When they resumed their burdens they noticed that they seemed lighter than before, and they felt rather suspicious. When the Taoist was taking his leave of the officer in charge of the party, he said, "I am an old friend from the same village as Prince Wei. My name is Tso Tz'u, my commoner name being Yuan-fang. Among Taoists I bear the appellation of 'Blackhorn.' When you get to the end of your journey you may say that I was enquiring after your lord."

He shook down his sleeves and left. In due course the orange bearers reached the new palace and the oranges were presented. But when Ts'ao cut one open it was but an empty shell of a thing, there was no pulp beneath the rind. Ts'ao Ts'ao was rather puzzled and called in the porters, who told him of their falling in with the mysterious Taoist on the way. But Ts'ao scouted the idea of that being the reason.

But just then the warden of the gate sent to say that a certain Taoist was at the gate and wished to see the prince.

"Send him in," said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"He is the man we met on the way," said the porters when he appeared.

Ts'ao Ts'ao said curtly, "What sorcery have you been exercising on my beautiful fruit?"

"How could such a thing happen?" said the Taoist.

Thereupon he cut open an orange and showed it full of pulp, most delicious to the taste. But when Ts'ao cut open another that again was empty, nothing but rind.

Ts'ao Ts'ao was more than ever perplexed. He bade his visitor be seated, and, as Tso Tz'u asked for refreshment, wine and food were brought in. The Taoist ate ravenously, consuming a whole sheep, and drank in proportion. Yet he showed no sign of intoxication or repletion.

"By what magic are you here?" said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"I am but a poor Taoist. I went into Hsich'uan (Ssuch'uan) and on Mount Omi I studied the Way for thirty long years. One day I heard my name called from out the rocky wall of my cell. I looked, but could see nothing. The same thing happened next day, and so on for many days. Then suddenly, with a roar like thunder, the rock split asunder and I saw a sacred book in three volumes called "The Supreme Book of Magic." From the first volume I learned to ascend to the clouds astride the wind, to sail up into the great void itself; from the second to pass through mountains and penetrate rocks; from the third, to float light as vapour, over the seas, to become invisible at will or change my shape, to fling swords and project daggers so as to decapitate a man from a distance. You, O Prince, have reached the acme of glory; why not now withdraw and, like me, become a disciple of the Taoists? Why not travel to Mount Omi and there mend your ways so that I may bequeath my three volumes to you?"

"Oft have I reflected upon this course and struggled against my fate, but what can I do? There is no one to maintain the government," replied Ts'ao.

"There is Liu Yuan-te, a scion of the dynastic family, could you not make way for him? If you do not, I may have to send one of my flying swords after your head one day."

"You are one of his secret agents," said Ts'ao Ts'ao, suddenly enraged. "Seize him!" cried he to his lictors.

They did so, while the Taoist laughed. And he continued to laugh as they dragged him down to the dungeons, where they beat him cruelly. And when they had finished, the Taoist lay there gently respiring in a sound sleep, just as if he felt nothing whatever.

This enraged Ts'ao Ts'ao still more, and he bade them put the priest into the large wooden collar and nail it securely and then chain him in a cell. And he set guards over him, and the guards saw the collar and chains just fall off while the victim lay fast asleep not injured in the least.

The Taoist lay in prison seven days without food or water, and when they went to look at him he was sitting upright on the ground, quite well and rosy looking.

The gaolers reported these things to Ts'ao Ts'ao, who had the prisoner brought in.

"I do not mind going without food for years," said the victim, when Ts'ao Ts'ao questioned him, "yet I could eat a thousand sheep in a day."

Ts'ao Ts'ao was at the end of his resources, he could prevail nothing against such a man.

That day there was to be a great banquet at the new palace, and guests came in crowds. When the banquet was in progress and the wine cup passing freely, suddenly the same Taoist appeared. He had wooden clogs on his feet. All faces turned in his direction and not a few were afraid; others wondered. Standing there in front of the great assembly, the Taoist said, "O powerful Prince, here today you have every delicacy on the table and a glorious company of guests. You have rare and beautiful objects from all parts of the world. Is there anything lacking? If there be anything you would like, name it and I will get it for you."

Ts'ao replied, "Then I want a dragon's liver to make soup; can you get that?"

"Where's the difficulty?" replied Tso Tz'u.

With a pencil the Taoist immediately sketched a dragon on the whitewashed wall of the banquet hall. Then he flicked his sleeve over it, the dragon's belly opened of itself and therefrom Tso took the liver all fresh and bloody.

"You had the liver hidden in your sleeve," said Ts'ao Ts'ao, incredulous.

"Then there shall be another test," said the Taoist. "It is winter and every plant outside is dead. What flower would you like, O Prince. Name any one you will."

"I want a peony," said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"Easy," said the Taoist.

At this request they brought out a flower-pot, which was placed in full view of the guests. Then he spurted some water over it, and in a very short time up came a peony with two fully expanded flowers.

The guests were astonished, and they asked the Taoist to be seated and gave him wine and food. The cook sent in some minced fish.

'The best mince is made from the perch of the Sung River," said the Taoist.

"How can you get fish a thousand Ii away?" said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"Not at all difficult. Tell someone to get a rod and hook, and fish in the pond just below this banquet hall."

They did so, and very soon several beautiful perch lay on the steps.

"I have always kept some of these in my ponds, of course," said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"O Prince, do you think to deceive me? All perch have two gills except the Sung perch, which has two pairs. That is the distinguishing feature."

The guests crowded round to look, and, surely enough, the fish had four gills.

"To cook thus perch one needs purple sprout ginger though," said the Taoist.

"Can you also produce that?" asked Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"Easily."

He told them to bring in a silver bowl, which the magician filled with water. Very soon the ginger filled the bowl, and he presented it to the host. Ts'ao put out his hand to pick some, when suddenly a book appeared in the bowl and the title was "Mengte's New Treatise (on the Art of War)." He took it out and read it over. Not a word of his treatise was missing.

Ts'ao Ts'ao became more and mystified. Tso Tz'u took up a jade cup that stood on the table, filled it with fine wine and presented it to Ts'ao Ts'ao.

"Drink this, O Prince, and you will live a thousand years."

"Drink of it first yourself," said Ts'ao Ts'ao.

The Taoist took the jade pin from his head dress and drew it across the cup as if dividing the wine into two portions. Then he drank one half and handed the cup with the other half to Ts'ao Ts'ao. But he angrily refused it. The Taoist then threw the cup into the air, where it was transformed into a white dove which circled round the banquet hall and then flew away.

All faces were turned upward following the flight of the dove, and so no one had noticed the going of the Taoist. But he was gone, and soon the gate warden reported that he had left the palace.

Said Ts'ao Ts'ao, "A magician like this ought to be put to death or he will do some mischief."

The redoubtable Hsu Ch'u and a company of armed men were sent to arrest the Taoist. They saw the Taoist, still wearing his wooden clogs, not far ahead but striding along quickly. Hsu Ch'u rode after him, but in spite of all his horse could do, he could not come up with him. He kept up the chase right to the hills, when he met a shepherd lad with a flock of sheep. And there walked the Taoist among the sheep. The Taoist disappeared. The angry warrior slew the whole flock of sheep, while the shepherd lad looked on weeping.

Suddenly the boy heard a voice from one of the severed heads, telling him to replace the heads on the bodies of his sheep. Instead of doing so, he fled in terror, covering his face. Then he heard a voice calling to him, "Do not run away; you shall have your sheep again."

He turned, and lo! the sheep were all alive again and Tso Tz'u was driving them along. The boy began to question him, but the Taoist made no reply. With a flick of his sleeves he was gone.