Romance of the Three Kingdoms II (33 page)

Soon the men of Wu set themselves to firing the hill. The First Ruler's remaining escort fled for their lives like rats, and their lord was in despair. Suddenly he saw a captain followed by a few horsemen cutting his way through and coming up the hill. As he drew nearer the king recognised Kuan Hsing. Kuan quickly leapt down, prostrated himself and said, "Your Majesty, the fire is gaining all round, and this place is not safe. I request you to try to reach Paitich'eng, and as many as possible will gather there."

"Who will dare stay behind to keep off the enemy?" said the First Ruler.

Fu Tung volunteered for this task. It was dusk when they started. Kuan Hsing led the way. They got their lord safely down the hill and away. As soon as the men of Wu noticed the flight they pressed forward, each anxious to gain kudos by the capture of the king's person. Great armies, bloteing out the sky and hiding the earth, went westward in pursuit. The First Ruler ordered the men to make fires of their clothing and other things in the road so as to hinder pursuit.

Chu Jan marched up from the river to try to intercept the flight, and the noise of his drums was terrifying. The king thought there was no possibility of escape from this force, and cried "This is the end!"

His two nephews dashed to the front to cut a road through, but returned wounded and bleeding. And the noise of the pursuers came constantly nearer as they found their way along the valleys. About the first glimpse of dawn the case seemed quite desperate. But just at the worst they saw Chu Jan's men suddenly begin to break up and scatter, tumbling into streams and rolling down precipices. Soon the reason was evident; a fearsome captain was among them leading a cohort.

Once again the king was rescued from pressing danger, and this time the rescuer was the faithful Chao Yun. He had been in Chiangchou, and news of the straits of his lord had reached him there. He had set out forthwith. Then he had seen the glow of the burnings and had marched toward it. And thus he had arrived just at the moment to save his master when danger was most imminent.

As soon as Lu Hsun heard that Chao Yun had appeared, he ordered his men to stop pursuit and retire. Chao Yun happening upon Chu Jan, engaged him forthwith and in the first encounter slew him with a spear thrust. And so the men of Wu were dispersed and retired, and the First Ruler got safely to Paitich'eng.

But on the way thither his thoughts went back to his companions in misfortune, and he enquired after them anxiously.

"The pursuers are close upon us and we cannot wait for anything," said Chao Yun. "I wish Your Majesty to get into the city as quickly as possible, and while you are reposing yourself we may try to rescue some of the leaders."

When the First Ruler reached Paitich'eng he was in sore straits, only having about a hundred men left.

A poet wrote concerning this victory of Lu Hsun:—

He grips the spear, he kindles fire, the camps are swept away.
Liu Pei to Paiti City flees, lonely and sad today.
But Lu Hsun's meteoric fame now shoots through Shu and Wei,
For bookish men the Prince of Wu has naught but good to say.

But Fu Tung, who commanded the rear-guard, was surrounded by the enemy. Ting Feng shouted to him, "You had better surrender. Many of the men of Shu have fallen, more have surrendered and your lord is a prisoner. You have no hope against us with your scanty force."

But Fu replied, "Shall I, a servant of Han, give in to the curs of Wu?"

Undaunted, he rode at his opponents and fought many bouts. But his strength and valour availed naught; struggle as he would, he could not make his way out. And so he died among his enemies.

A poem celebrates his valiancy.

Wu, at Iling, strove with Shu,
Flames, not swords, used crafty Lu.
Worthy of a place among
Han's bold captains is Fu Tung.

The Libationer Ch'eng Ch'i, having got clear of the battle, rode swiftly to the river bank and called to the marines to join in the battle. They landed, but were soon scattered. One of Ch'eng ChYs lieutenants shouted to him to beware, for the men of Wu were upon him, but he shouted back, "Since I first followed my lord I have never yet turned my back upon the foe."

The enemy surrounded him, and, as he could do no more, he took his sword and slew himself.

Noble among the warriors of Shu was Cheng Ch'i.
He kept his sword for the service of his prince.
When danger pressed near he wavered not,
Wherefore his fame remains forever bright.

Now Wu Pan and Chang Nan had been besieging Fling. Then came Feng Hsi and told of the need of their lord, and they led off their army to rescue him. Whereupon Sun Huan was set free as Lu Hsun had foretold would happen.

As soon as Sun Huan was free he set off in pursuit of Feng and Chang. These two marched until they met an army of Wu face to face, and so were between two forces. A battle was fought, and both these captains perished therein.

Feng Hsi was loyal without peer.
Chang Nan was righteous,
few have equalled him.
In battle on the sandy shore they died,
And the histories record their deeds.

Wu Pan broke through. He was pursued, but he luckily fell in with Chao Yun and got safely to Paitich'eng.

The barbarian King Shamoko was flying from the battlefield when he met Chou Tai, who slew him after a short fight.

The Shu captains Tu Lo and Liu Ning surrendered to Wu, as did many soldiers. Of the stores and weapons in the camps of Shu nothing was saved.

When the story of the disaster to Shu reached the south, and with it the report that the First Ruler had been killed in battle, the Lady Sun gave way to wild grief. She rode down to the river bank and, gazing westward, wept and lamented. Then she threw herself into the stream and was drowned. Posterity erected a temple on the shore called "The Shrine of the Bold Beauty," and one who described it wrote a poem:—

The king, defeated, fled,
And rumour said he'd died;

His consort in remorse
Committed suicide.

A carven stone now showeth where
And why this heroine died.

There could be no question that this exploit brought tremendous glory to Lu Hsun. Anxious to push his advantage as far as possible, he led his exultant army westward. But as he drew near to K'uei Pass he suddenly pulled up his horse, remarking that he saw an aura of death about the mountain side in front.

"We may not yet advance farther; I suspect an ambush."

So they retreated ten
li
and camped in a wide open space. And the army was arrayed ready against any sudden attack. Meanwhile, scouts were sent out. They returned reporting no soldiers. Lu Hsun doubted and went up to the summit of a hill whence he could see over the country. The aura was still visible to him, and so he despatched other men to spy. But he received the same report; not a man, not a horse.

Still, as the sun got lower and lower in the west he saw the same appearance accentuated, and he began to feel grave doubts. He sent a confidant to look once more. This man came back saying he had not met a single man, but he had noticed on the river bank nearly a hundred heaps of boulders.

The commander, still doubting, called in several of the natives and questioned them about the stones: Who put them there? Why did they look so ghastly?

"We do not know. This place is called Fishbelly Creek. When Chuko Liang was going west into Szuch'uan he came along here with a lot of soldiers and heaped up the boulders like that above the Sandy Rapid. We have seen vapours rising from the boulders, they seemed to come from inside them."

Lu Hsun decided to go and look at these boulders himself. So he rode off, with a small escort. Looking down at the stones from a declivity they were evidently arranged with a design related to the eight points of the compass. There were doors and door-sills and lintels.

"This looks likely to drive a man out of his senses," he said; "I wonder whether it is any good."

They rode down with intent to examine the mysterious arrangement more closely and went in among the stones. Presently one of the escort called attention to the increasing darkness and said they ought to be returning to camp. But as Lu Hsun glanced round to look for an exit a sudden squall came on and the dust whirled up, obscuring both sky and earth. And in the swirl the stones reared themselves up like steep mountains, pointed like swords, and the dust and sand shaped themselves into waves and hillocks one behind the other. The roar of the boiling river was as the drums before a battle.

"This is some trick of Chuko's," said Lu in a scared voice; "and I have been caught."

He would go out, but he had quite lost his way and could find no exit. As he stopped to consider what he should do, an old man suddenly appeared, who said, "Does the General wish to go out?"

"I greatly desire that you would pilot me out, O Elder," replied he.

Leaning on his staff, the old man led the way and with quiet dignity conducted Lu Hsun outside. He had no difficulty in finding his way and paused not a single instant. When they were once again on the slope Lu asked his aged guide who he was.

"I am Chuko K'ung-ming's father-in-law, my family name is Huang. My son-in-law placed these boulders here as you see them, and he said they represented "The Eight Arrays." They are like eight doors, and according to the scheme are named:—

The Cate of Rest,
The Gate of Life,
The Gate of Injury,
The Gate of Obstruction,
The Gate of Prospect,
The Gate of Death,
The Gate of Surprise and
The Gate of Openings.

They are capable of infinite mutations and would be equal to ten legions of soldiers. As he was leaving he told me that if any leader of Wu became mazed in them I was not to conduct him outside. From a precipice near by I saw you, General, enter in at the Gate of Death, and as I guessed you were ignorant of the scheme I knew you would be entangled. But I am of a good disposition and could not bear that you should be entrapped without possibility of escape, so I came to guide you to the Gate of Life."

"Have you studied this matter, Sir?" asked Lu.

"The variations are inexhaustible, and I could not learn them all."

Lu Hsun dismounted, bowed low before the old man and then rode away.

The famous poet Tu Fu wrote some verses which run something like this:—

Founder of a Kingdom; no small praise
Is his, Inventor of the Eight Arrays
And for that famous. On the river's brim,
Firm set, the boulders stand as placed by him.
No current rolls them down. Time's waters too
Drown not regret he did not conquer Wu.

Lu Hsun took his way to his camp in deep thought.

'This K'ung-ming is well named 'Sleeping Dragon,'" said he, "I am not his equal."

Then, to the amazement of all, he gave orders to retire. The officers ventured to remonstrate, seeing that they had been so successful.

"General, you have utterly broken the enemy, and Liu Pei is shut up in one small city; it seems the time to smite, and yet you retire because you have come across a mysterious arrangement of stones."

"I am not afraid of the stones, and it is not on their account that I retire. But I fear Ts'ao P'ei of Wei. He is no less resourceful than his father, and when he hears I am marching into Shu, he will certainly attack us. How could I return then?"

The homeward march began. On the second day the scouts brought word that three armies of Wei had debouched at three different points and were moving toward the borders of Wu.

"Just as I thought," said Lu Hsun. "But I am ready for them."

"And now the west is mine," the victor thought,
But danger from the north discretion taught.

The story of the retreat will be told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER LXXXV
LIU, THE FIRST RULER, CONFIDES HIS SON
TO K'UNG-MING'S CARE: CHUKO LIANG
PEACEFULLY SETTLES THE FIVE ATTACKS

I
t
was in the sixth month of the second year of
Chang-Wu
that Lu Hsun destroyed the army of Shu at Iling and forced the king to seek refuge in Paitich'eng, of which Chao Yun then undertook the defence. When Ma Liang returned only to find his lord defeated he was more distressed than he could say. He announced what K'ung-ming had said concerning the plans, and the First Ruler sighed, saying, "If I had listened to the Prime Minister's advice the defeat would not have happened. Now how can I face a return to my capital?"

So he promulgated a command to change the guest-house into the "Palace of Eternal Peace." He was deeply grieved when they told him of the death of so many of his captains. Next he heard that Huang Ch'uan, who had been given command of the army on the north bank, had given in to Wei. They suggested to him that the family of the renegade was in his power and he could hold them responsible. But he only said, "The army was quite cut off, and he had no alternative but to surrender. Really, I betrayed him, not he me. Why should I take vengeance on his family?"

So he continued the issue of the renegade's pay to his family.

When Huang Ch'uan surrendered he was led into the presence of the King of Wei, who said, "You have surrendered to me because you desired to imitate the admirable conduct of Ch'en and Han."

But Huang replied, weeping, "The Emperor of Shu has been very kind to me, and he gave me the leadership of the army on the north bank. Lu Hsun cut me off so that I could not return to Shu, and I would not surrender to Wu, wherefore I have yielded to Your Majesty. Defeated as I am, I should be only too happy if my life were spared, but I have no claim to the credit of the virtuous ones of old."

The reply satisfied the King of Wei, and he conferred an office on Huang, who, however, declined the offer. Then one of the courtiers said that a spy had reported that ail the family of Huang had been put to death. But the leader replied that he could not believe it.

"I have the greatest confidence in the clemency of the King of Shu. He knows I would not have surrendered of my own free will, and he would not injure my family."

And the King of Wei agreed with his opinion.

But a poem has been written upbraiding Huang Ch'uan:

'Twas a pity that Huang Ch'uan grudged to die;
Though he yielded to Wei, not Wu,
Yet he crooked the knee in an alien court,
Which the loyal cannot do.
And the judgment calm of history
Condemns such men all through.

Ts'ao P'ei sought advice from Chia Hsu concerning his design of bringing the whole country under his own rule.

"I wish to bring the whole empire under my rule; which shall I first reduce, Shu or Wu?"

"Liu Pei is an able warrior, and Chuko Liang is a most capable administrator, Sun Ch'uan possesses discrimination, and his general, Lu Hsun, occupies all the strategical positions of importance. The natural obstacles, the intervening rivers and spreading lakes, would be hard to overcome. I do not think you have any leader to match either of these two men. Even with the prestige of Your Majesty's own presence, no one could guarantee the result. The better course is to hold on and await the outcome of the struggle between those other two."

"I have already despatched three armies against Wu; can it be that they will fail?"

The President, Liu Yeh, held the same opinion as his colleague. Said he, "Lu Hsun has just won a great victory over the great host of Shu, and all his army is full of confidence. Further, there are the lakes and the rivers, which are natural difficulties hard to cope with. And again, Lu Hsun is resourceful and well prepared."

The king said, "Formerly, Sir, you urged me to attack Wu; why do you now give contrary advice?"

"Because times have changed. When Wu was suffering defeat after defeat the country was depressed and might be smitten. Now this great victory has changed all that and their morale has increased a hundredfold. I say now they may not be attacked."

"Well; but I have decided to attack. So say no more," said the king.

He then led the Imperial Cuards out to support his three armies. But the scouts soon brought news justifying the opinion of his advisers. A force had been sent to oppose each of his three armies. Liu Yeh pointed this out and again said that no success could be expected. Still the king was obstinate, and marched.

The Wu leader, Chu Huan, who had been sent against Ts'ao Jen at Juhsu, was a young man of twenty-seven. He was bold and resourceful, and Sun Ch'uan held him in great regard. Hearing that Ts'ao Jen was going to attack Tzuchi, Chu led the bulk of his men to befend it, leaving only half a legion in Juhsu. Then he heard that the van of the enemy, under Ch'ang Tiao, had made a dash for Juhsu, so he hastened back and found the small garrison a prey to fear. Drawing his sword, he made a speech, "Success depends upon the leader rather than on the number of men. The 'Art of War' says that the value of soldiers who come from afar is doubled; that of those who inhabit a place is halved, yet always those who are in possession overcome those who come from afar. Now the enemy is weary from a long march and I and you, my men, can hold this place together. We have a great river to defend us on the south, and we are backed by the mountains on the north. Success should be ours easily, and we are as hosts at home awaiting the arrival of our weary visitors. This will give us victory in every fight. Even if the great Ts'ao P'ei come, we need feel no anxiety. How much less care we for Ts'ao Jen and his men?"

Then he issued orders to furl all the banners and to silence all the drums as if the city was empty of defenders.

In time, Ch'ang Tiao and his veterans of the van came to the city. Not a man was visible, and he hastened forward with all speed. But as he neared the city, suddenly a bomb went off. Immediately up rose a forest of flags, and out dashed Chu Huan, with his sword drawn. And he made for Ch'ang Tiao. In the third encounter he cut down his enemy, and his men, rushing to the attack, thoroughly routed the invaders, slaying innumerable men. Beside scoring a complete victory, Chu Huan took much spoil of flags and weapons and horses. Ts'ao Jen himself, coming up later, was attacked by the garrison of Tzuchi and also routed. He fled home to his master with the news of defeat and destruction.

And before the king could decide what course to take in regard to this loss the news came of the defeat of his other two armies.

So all three had failed and were lost, and P'ei sighed and said sadly, "This has came from my wilfulness and neglect of advice."

The summer of that year was very unhealthy, and a pestilence swept away the soldiers in huge numbers. So they were marched home to Loyang. The two countries were at enmity though they were not fighting.

Meanwhile the First Ruler was failing. He remained in his Palace of Eternal Peace and presently was confined to his couch. Gradually he became worse, and in the fourth moon of the third year his condition became serious. He himself felt the end was near, and he was depressed and wept for his two lost brothers till the sight of his eyes suffered. He was morose and ill-tempered: he could not bear any of his court near him, drove away his servants and lay upon his couch sad and solitary.

One evening as thus he lay, a sudden gust of wind came into the chamber, almost extinguishing the candles. As they burned bright again he saw two men standing in the shade behind them.

"I told you I was worried," said the king, "and bade you leave me; why have you come back? Go!"

But they remained and did not go. Wherefore the king rose and went over to look at them. As he drew near he saw one was Yun-ch'ang; the other I-te.

"Are you still alive, then, brothers?" said he.

"We are not men; we are shades," said Kuan Yu. "The Supreme One has conferred spirithood upon us in consideration of our faithfulness throughout life, and ere long, brother, we three shall be together again."

The king clutched at the figures and burst into tears; then he awoke. The two figures were no longer there. He called in his people and asked the hour: they told him the third watch.

"I am not much longer for this world," said he with a sigh.

Messengers were sent to the capital to summon the Prime Minister and certain other high officers of state to receive the king's last instructions. They came, K'ung-ming bringing the two younger sons. The eldest, the heir-apparent, was left in charge of the capital.

K'ung-ming saw at once that his master was very ill. He bowed to the ground at the foot of the "dragon" couch. The dying king bade him come near and sit beside him, and he patted his faithful minister on the back, saying, "The attainment of emperorship was your work. Little thought you that I should prove so stupid as not to follow your advice and so bring about the late disasters. But I am deeply sorry, and now I shall not live long. My heir is a degenerate, but I must leave him to do the best he can with the great inheritance."

And the tears flowed in streams.

"I trust Your Majesty will fulfil the hopes of the people by a speedy recovery," said K'ung-ming, also in tears.

Turning his head, the king saw Ma Liang's brother at the bedside. He bade him retire. When he had left the chamber, the king said, "Do you think Ma Su is clever?"

"He is one of the ablest men in the world," said K'ung-ming.

"I do not think so. I think his words exceed his deeds. Do not make much use of him. Watch him carefully."

Having said this, he bade them summon the high officers of state to the chamber. Taking paper and pen the First Ruler wrote his testament. He handed it to the Prime Minister with a sigh and said, "I am no great scholar, and I only know the rough outlines of what should be known. But the Holy One has said that a bird's song is sad when death is near and a dying man's words are good. I was waiting that we might aid each other in the destruction of Ts'ao and the restoration of the Hans, but ere the work is complete I am called away, and this last command of mine I confide to you as Prime Minister to be handed to my son and heir, Chan. My words are to be taken seriously. I trust that you will instruct and guide my son."

K'ung-ming and all those present wept and prostrated themselves, saying, "We pray Your Majesty to repose yourself. We will do our utmost whereby to prove our gratitude for the kindness we have received."

At the king's command the attendants raised K'ung-ming from the earth. With one hand the dying man brushed away the falling tears, while with the other he grasped K'ung-ming's hand and said, 'The end is near; I have something more to say as to a friend."

"What holy command has Your Majesty to give?"

"You are many times more clever than Ts'ao P'ei, and you must safeguard the kingdom and complete the great work. If my son can be helped, help him. But if he prove a fool then take the throne yourself."

Such a speech almost startled K'ung-ming out of his senses. A cold sweat broke out all over his body, and his limbs threatened to cease to support him. He fell on his knees, saying, "I could never do otherwise than wear myself to the bone in the service of your son, whom I will serve till death."

He knocked his head upon the ground. The dying man called K'ung-ming closer, and at the same time making his two sons come near, he said to them, "My sons, remember your father's words. After my death you are to treat the Prime Minister as you would your father and be not remiss, for thereby you will fulfil your father's hopes."

He made the two princes pay to K'ung-ming the obeisance due to a father.

Said K'ung-ming, "Were I destroyed and ground into the earth, I should be unable to repay the kindness I have experienced."

Turning to the assembled officers, the First Ruler said, "As you have seen, I have confided my orphan son to the care of the Prime Minister and bidden my sons treat him as a father. You too, Sirs, are to treat him with deference. This is my dying request and charge to you."

Turning to Chao Yun, he said, "I and you have gone together through many dangers and difficulties. Now comes the parting of our ways. You will not forget our old friendship, and you must see to it that my sons follow my precepts."

"I shall never dare to give other than my best," said Chao Yun. "The fidelity of the dog and horse is mine to give and shall be theirs."

Then he turned to the others, "Noble Sirs, I am unable to speak to you one by one and lay a charge upon each individual; but I say to you, Maintain your self-respect."

These were his last words. He was sixty-three, and he died on the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month (223
A.D.).

A poem was written by Tu Fu on his death:—

The king set out to destroy the land that lay through the gorges,
Failed he and breathed his last in the palace "Eternal Tranquillity,"
The palace fair of his thoughts lay not this side the highlands.
Beautiful chambers are vainly sought in his rural temple,
Now are the pines near his shrine nesting places for herons,
Through the courts aged peasants saunter, enjoying their leisure,
Nearby often is found a shrine to this strategist famous,
Prince and minister's needs are now but offerings in season.

Thus died the First Ruler. All present lifted up their voices and wept.

The Prime Minister led the procession that escorted the coffin to the capital, and the heir, Liu Ch'an, came to the outskirts of the city, as a dutiful son should, to receive the remains with due respect. The coffin was laid in the Great Hall of the palace, wherein they lamented and performed the ceremonies appointed. At the end of these the testament was opened and read.