LIU, THE EMPEROR’S UNCLE, RESCUES KʻUNG JUNG:
LU, MARQUIS OF WEN, DEFEATS TSʻAO TSʻAO.
It was one Mi Chu who said he knew how to defeat Tsʻao Tsʻao utterly.
He came of a wealthy family of merchants trading in Loyang. One day
travelling homeward from that city in a carriage he met an exquisitely
beautiful lady trudging along the road, who asked him to let her ride.
He stopped and yielded his place to her. She invited him to share the
seat with her. He mounted, but sat rigidly upright never even glancing
in her direction. They travelled thus for some miles when she thanked
him and alighted. Just as she left she said, “I am the embodied spirit
of the Southern Heat. I am on my way to execute a decree of the Supreme
to burn your dwelling, but your extreme courtesy has so deeply touched
me that I now warn you. Hasten homeward, remove your valuables for I
must arrive to-night.”
Thereupon she disappeared. Mi Chu hastily finished his journey and as
soon as he arrived moved everything out of his house. Sure enough that
night a fire started in the kitchen and involved the whole house. After
this he devoted his wealth to relieving the poor and comforting the
afflicted. Tʻao Chʻien gave him the office he then held.
The plan he proposed was this. “I will go to Pohai and beg Kʻung Jung
to help; another should go to Chʻingchow on a similar mission, and if
the armies of these two places march on our enemy he will certainly
retire.”
The Prefect accepted the plan and wrote letters. He asked for a
volunteer to go to Chʻingchow and a certain Chʻên Têng offered himself
and, after he had left, Mi Chu was formally entrusted with the mission
to the north. Meanwhile they would hold the city as they could.
This Kʻung was a native of Chʻüfou in the old state of Lü, one of the
twentieth generation in descent from the great Teacher Confucius. He
had been noted as a very intelligent lad, somewhat precocious. When ten
years old he had gone to see Li Ying, the Governor, but the doorkeeper
demurred to letting him in. But when he said, “I am Minister Li’s
intimate friend,” he was admitted. Li asked him what relations had
existed between their families that might justify the term intimate.
The boy replied, “Of old my ancestor (Kʻung) questioned yours (Lao Tzŭ,
whose name was Li Erh) concerning ceremonies. So our families have
known each other for many generations.” His host was astonished at the
boy’s ready wit.
Presently another visitor of high rank came in, to whom Li Ying told
the story of his youthful guest. “He is a wonder, this boy,” said Li.
The visitor replied, “It does not follow that a clever boy grows up
into a clever man.”
The lad took him up at once saying “By what you say, Sir, you were
certainly one of the clever boys.”
They all laughed. “The boy is going to be a noble vessel,” said they.
Thus from boyhood he was famous. As a man he rose to be a Chung-lang
Chiang, and was sent as Governor to Pohai, where he was renowned for
hospitality. He used to quote the lines:—
“Let the rooms be full of friends,
And the cups be full of wine.”
“That is what I like,” said he.
After six years at Pohai the people were devoted to him. The day that
Mi Chu arrived he was, as usual, seated among his guests and the
messenger was ushered in without delay. In reply to a question about
the reason of the visit he presented his letter which said that Tsʻao
Tsʻao was pressing on the city and the Prefect prayed for help.
Then said Kʻung Jung, “Your master and I are good friends and your
presence here constrains me to go to his aid. However I have no quarrel
with Tsʻao Mêng-tê either, so I will first write to him to try to make
peace. If he refuses my offer, then I must set the army in motion.”
“Tsʻao Tsʻao will not listen to proposals of peace; he is too certain
of his strength,” said the messenger.
Kʻung Jung wrote his letter and also gave orders to muster his men.
Just at this moment happened another rising of the Yellow Turbans, and
the ruffians began to rob and murder at Pohai. It was necessary to deal
with them first and Kʻung led his army outside the city.
The rebel leader rode out to the front saying, “I know this district is
fruitful and can well spare ten thousand ‘stone’ of grain. Give me that
and we retire: refuse, and we will batter down the city walls and
destroy every soul.”
The Prefect shouted back, “I am a servant of the great Hans, entrusted
with the safety of their land. Think you I will feed rebels?”
The leader Kuan Hai whipped his steed, whirled his sword around his
head and rode forward. Tsung Pao, one of Kʻung’s captains, set his
spear and rode out to give him battle, but after a very few bouts was
cut down. Soon the soldiers fell into confusion and rushed pell-mell
into the city for protection. The rebels then laid seige to the city on
all sides. Kʻung Jung was very down-hearted and Mi Chu, who now saw no
hope for the success of his mission, was grieved beyond words.
The sight from the city wall was exceeding sad, for the rebels were
there in enormous numbers. One day as the Prefect stood on the wall, he
saw a man armed with a spear riding hard in among his enemies and
scattering them before him like chaff before the wind. Before long he
had reached the foot of the wall and called out, “Open the gate!” But
the defenders would not open to an unknown man and in the delay a crowd
of rebels gathered round the rider along the edge of the moat. Suddenly
wheeling about, the warrior dashed in among them and bowled over half a
score at which the others fell back. At this the Prefect ordered the
wardens to open the gates and let the stranger enter. As soon as he was
inside he dismounted, laid aside his spear, ascended the wall and made
humble obeisance to Kʻung Jung.
He said his name was Tʻaishih Tz’ŭ and he came from Laihuang. His aged
mother had sent him out of gratitude for the kindness shown her by
Kʻung. “I only returned home yesterday from the north and then I heard
that your city was in danger from a rebel attack. My mother said you
had been very kind to her and told me I should try to help. So I set
out all alone and here I am.”
This was cheering. The Prefect already knew Tʻaishih by reputation as a
valiant fighting man although they two had never met. The son being far
away from his home the Prefect had taken his mother, who dwelt a few
miles from the city, under his especial protection and saw that she did
not suffer from want. This had won the old lady’s heart and she had
sent her son to show her gratitude.
Kʻung showed his appreciation by treating his guest with the greatest
respect, making him presents of clothing and armour, saddles and
horses.
Presently said Tʻaishih, “Give me a company and I will go out and drive
off these fellows.”
“You are a bold warrior, but these are very numerous. It is a serious
matter to go out among them,” said Kʻung.
“My mother sent me because of your goodness to her. How shall I be able
to look her in the face if I do not raise the siege? I would prefer to
conquer or perish.”
“I have heard Liu Yüan-tê is one of the finest warriors in the world
and if we could get his help there would be no doubt of the result. But
there is no one to send.”
“I will go as soon as I have received your letter.”
So Kʻung wrote letters and gave them to his new helper. Tʻaishih put on
his armour, mounted his steed, attached his bow and quiver to his
girdle, took his spear in his hand, tied his packed haversack firmly to
his saddle bow and rode out at the city gate. He went quite alone.
Along the moat a large party of the besiegers were gathered and they
came to intercept the solitary rider. But he dashed in among them and
cut down several and so finally fought his way through.
The rebel leader, hearing that a rider had left the city, guessed what
his errand would be and followed Tʻaishih with a party of horsemen. He
spread them out so that the messenger rider was entirely surrounded.
Then Tʻaishih laid aside his spear, took his bow, adjusted his arrows
one by one and shot all round him. And as a rider fell from his steed
with every twang of his bowstring, the pursuers dared not close in.
Thus he got clear away and rode in hot haste to Liu Yüan-tê. He reached
Pʻingyüan and after greeting his host in proper form he told how Kʻung
Pohai was surrounded and had sent him for help. Then he presented the
letter which Liu Pei read.
“Who are you?” asked he.
“I am Tʻaishih Tz’ŭ, a stupid fellow from Tunghai. I am not related by
ties of kin to Kʻung Jung, nor even by ties of neighbourhood, but I am
by the bonds of sentiment and I share his sorrows and misfortunes. The
rebel Kuan has invested his city and he is distressed with none to turn
to and destruction is very near. You are known as humane and righteous
and you are able to rescue him. Therefore at his command I have braved
all dangers and fought my way through his enemies to pray you to save
him.”
Liu Yüan-tê smiled, saying, “And does he know of my existence?”
So the three brothers told off three companies and set out to help
raise the siege. When the rebel leader saw these new forces arriving he
led out his army to fight them, thinking he could easily dispose of so
small a force.
The brothers and Tʻaishih Tz’ŭ with them sat on their horses in the
forefront of their array. Kuan Hai, the rebel leader, hastened forward.
Tʻaishih held back to allow Kuan Yü to open the combat. He rode forth
and the two steeds met. The soldiers set up a great shout, for how
could there be any doubt of the result? After a few bouts Black Dragon
rose and fell, and with the stroke fell the rebel leader.
This was the signal for the two other warriors to take a share and they
advanced side by side. With their spears ready they dashed in and
Yüan-tê urged forward his men. The besieged Prefect saw his doughty
rescuers laying low the rebels as tigers among a flock of sheep. None
could withstand them and he then sent out his own men to join in the
battle so that the rebels were between two armies. The rebels’ force
was completely broken and many men surrendered, while the remainder
scattered in all directions.
The victors were welcomed into the city and as soon as possible a
banquet was prepared in their honour. Mi Chu was presented to Liu
Yüan-tê and he related the story of the murder of Tsʻao Sung by Chang
Kʻai and Tsʻao’s vengeful attack on Hsüchou and his coming to beg for
assistance.
Yüan-tê said, “Tʻao Kung-tsu is a kindly man of high character, and it
is a pity that he should suffer this wrong for no fault of his own.”
“You are a scion of the imperial family,” said the Prefect, “and this
Tsʻao Tsʻao is injuring the people, a strong man abusing his strength.
Why not go with me to rescue the sufferers?”
“I dare not refuse, but my force is weak and I must act cautiously,”
said Liu Pei.
“Though my desire to help arises from an old friendship, yet it is a
righteous act as well. Is it that your heart is not inclined toward the
right?” said Kʻung.
Liu Pei said, “This being so, you go first and give me time to see
Kungsun Tsan from whom I may borrow more men and horses. I will come
anon.”
“You surely will not break your promise?” said the Prefect.
“What manner of man think you that I am?” said Yüan-tê. “The wise one
said, ‘Death is common to all: the man without truth cannot maintain
himself.’ Whether I get the men or not, certainly I shall myself come.”
So the plan was agreed to. Mi Chu set out to return forthwith while
Kʻung Jung prepared for his expedition.
Tʻaishih Tz’ŭ took his leave saying, “My mother bade me come to your
aid and now happily you are safe. Letters have come from my fellow
townsman, Liu Yu, Governor of Yangchou, calling me thither and I must
go. I will see you again.”
Kʻung pressed rewards upon him but he would accept nothing and went
away. When his mother saw him she was pleased at his success saying she
rejoiced that he had been able to prove his gratitude, and after this
he departed for Yangchou.
Here nothing will be said of the departure of the relieving force. But
Yüan-tê went away to his friend Kungsun Tsan and laid before him his
design to help Hsüchou.
“Tsʻao Tsʻao and you are not enemies; why do you spend yourself for the
sake of another?” said Tsan.
“I have promised,” he replied, “and dare not break faith.”
“I will lend you two companies, horse and foot,” said Tsan.
“Also I wish to have the services of Chao Tzŭ-lung,” said Yüan-tê.
Tsan agreed to this also.
They marched away, their own men being in the front and Chao Tzŭ-lung,
with the borrowed men, being in rear.
In due course Mi Chu returned saying that Kʻung Jung had also obtained
the services of the three warrior brothers. The other messenger, Chʻên
Yüan-lung, came back and reported that Tʻien Kʻai would also bring
help. Then was the Prefect’s heart set at ease.
But both the leaders, though they had promised aid, greatly dreaded
their antagonist and camped among the hills at a great distance,
fearful of coming to close quarters. Tsʻao Tsʻao knew of their coming
and divided his army into parts to meet them, so postponing the attack
on the city itself. Presently Liu Pei came up and went to see Kʻung
Jung, who said, “The enemy is very powerful and Tsʻao Tsʻao handles his
army skilfully. We must be cautious. Let us make most careful
observations before we strike a blow.”
“What I fear is famine in the city,” said Liu Pei. “They cannot hold
out very long. I will put my men with yours under your command while I
with Chang Fei make a dash through to see Tʻao Chʻien and consult with
him.”
Kʻung Jung approved of this, so he and Tʻien Kʻai took up positions on
the “ox horn formation,” with Kuan Yü and Chao Yün on either side to
support them.
The day that Liu Pei and his company made their dash to get through
Tsʻao’s army they got as far as the flank of his camp when there arose
a great beating of drums, and horse and foot rolled out like billows on
the ocean. The leader was Yü Chin. He checked his steed and called out,
“You mad men from somewhere, where are you going?”
Chang Fei heard him but deigned no reply. He only rode straight to
attack the speaker. After they had fought a few bouts Yüan-tê waved his
double sword as signal for his men to come on and they drove Yü Chin
before them. Chang Fei led the pursuit and in this way they reached the
city wall.
From the city wall the besieged saw a huge banner embroidered in white
with the name of Liu Pei and the Prefect bade them open the gate for
the rescuers to enter. The leader was made very welcome, conducted to
the residency and a banquet prepared in his honour. The men also were
feasted.
Tʻao Chʻien was delighted with Liu Pei, admiring his noble appearance
and clear speech. He bade Mi Chu offer him the seal and insignia of
office. But the visitor shrank back startled.
“What does this mean?” said he.
Tʻao said, “There is trouble on every side and the kingly rule is no
longer maintained. You, Sir, are a member of the family and eminently
fitted to support them and their prerogatives. I am verging on senility
and I wish to retire in your favour. I pray you not to decline and I
will report my action to the Court.”
Liu Pei started up from his seat and bowed before his host saying,
“Scion of the family I may be, but my merit is small and my virtue
meagre. I doubt my fitness even for my present post and only a feeling
of doing right sent me to your assistance. To hear such speech makes me
doubt. Surely you think I came with greed in my heart. May God help me
no more if I cherished such a thought.”
“It is a poor old man’s real sentiment,” said Tʻao Chʻien.
Time after time Tʻao Chʻien renewed his offer to retire, but how could
Liu Pei accept it?
In the midst of this came Mi Chu to say the enemies had reached the
wall and something must be done to drive them off. The matter of one
officer retiring in favour of the other could await a more tranquil
time.
Said Liu Pei, “I ought to write to Tsʻao Tsʻao to press him to raise
the siege. If he refuse, we will attack forthwith.”
Orders were sent to the three camps to remain quiescent till the
letters could reach Tsʻao Tsʻao.
It happened that Tsʻao Tsʻao was holding a council when a messenger
with a war letter was announced. The letter was brought in and handed
to him and, when he had opened and looked at it, he found it was from
Liu Pei.
This is the letter, very nearly:—“Since meeting you outside the pass,
fate has assigned us to different quarters of the world and I have not
been able to pay my respects to you. Touching the death of your noble
father, the Marquis, it was owing to the vicious nature of Chang Kʻai
and due to no fault of Tʻao Kung-tsu. Now while the remnant of the
Yellow Turbans is disturbing the provinces and Tung Cho’s partizans
have the upper hand in the capital, I would that you, illustrious Sir,
would regard the critical position of the Court rather than your
personal grievances and so divert your forces from the attack on
Hsüchou to the rescue of the State. Such would be for the happiness of
that city and the whole world.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao gave vent to a torrent of abuse. “Who is this Liu Pei that
he dares write and exhort me? Beside, he means to be satirical.”
He issued orders to put the bearer of the letter to death and to press
on the siege. But Kuo Chia remonstrated, “Liu Pei has come from afar to
help Tʻao and he is trying the effect of politeness before resorting to
arms. I pray you, my master, reply with fair words that his heart may
be lulled with a feeling of safety. Then attack with vigour and the
city will fall.”
Tsʻao found this advice good, so he spared the messenger telling him to
wait to carry back his reply. While this was going on a horseman came
with news of misfortune. Lü Pu had made a raid on Yenchou.
When Li and Kuo, the two partizans of Tung Cho, succeeded in their
attack on the capital Lü Pu had fled to Yüan Shu, who however looked
askance at him for his instability, and refused to receive him. Then he
had tried Yüan Shao, who had made use of him in an attack upon Chang
Yen in Chʻangshan. But his success filled him with pride and his
arrogant demeanour so annoyed the other commandants that Shao was on
the point of putting him to death. To escape this he had gone away to
Chang Yang, who accepted his services.
About this time Pʻang Hsü, who had been protecting Lü’s family since
his disappearance, restored them to him, which deed angered Li and Kuo
so that they put Pʻang to death and wrote to Lü Pu’s protector to serve
him the same. To escape this Lü Pu once again had to flee and this time
joined himself to Chang Mo.
He arrived just as Chang Mo’s brother was introducing Chʻên Kung. Kung
said to Mo, “The disrupture of the Empire has begun and warriors are
seizing what they can. It is strange that you, with all the advantages
you enjoy, do not strike for independence. Tsʻao Tsʻao has gone on an
expedition against the east leaving his own district defenceless. Lü Pu
is one of the fighting men of the day. If you and he together attacked
and got Yenchow you could then proceed to the dominion.”
Chang Mo was pleased and resolved to try. Soon Lü Pu was in possession
of Yenchou and its neighbourhood, all but three small departments,
which were desperately defended. Tsʻao Jên had fought many battles but
was always defeated and the messenger with the evil tidings had come
from him asking help.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was greatly disturbed by this and said, “If my own city be
lost I have no home to return to. I must do something at once.”
“The best thing would be to become friends with Liu Pei at any cost and
return to Yenchou,” said Kuo Chia.
Then he wrote to Liu Pei, gave the letter to the waiting messenger and
broke camp. The news that the enemy had left was very gratifying to the
Prefect, who then invited his various defenders into the city and
prepared banquets and feasts in token of his gratitude.
At one of these, when the feasting was over, he proceeded with his
scheme of retirement in favour of Liu Pei. Placing him in the seat of
highest honour he bowed before him and then addressed the assembly.
“I am old and feeble and my two sons lack the ability to hold so
important an office as this. The noble Liu is a descendant of the
imperial house. He is of lofty virtue and great talent. Let him then
take over the rule of this district and only too willingly I shall
retire to have leisure to nurse my health.”
Liu Pei replied, “I came at the request of Kʻung Wên-chü because it was
the right thing to do. Hsüchou is saved, but if I take it surely the
world will say I am a wicked man.”
Mi Chu said, “You may not refuse. The House of Han is failing, their
realm is crumbling and now is the time for doughty deeds and signal
services. This is a fertile district, well populated, and you are the
man to rule over it.”
“But I dare not accept.”
“The Prefect is a great sufferer,” said Chʻên Têng, “and cannot see to
matters. You may not decline, Sir.”
Said Yüan-tê, “Yüan Shu belongs to a family of rulers and the highest
offices of state were held four times in three generations. The whole
empire respects him, why not invite him to this task?”
“Because he is a rotting bone in a dark tomb; not worth talking about.
This opportunity is a gift from Heaven and you will never cease to
regret its loss,” said Kʻung.
So spake Kʻung Jung, but still Liu Pei obstinately refused. Tʻao Chʻien
besought him with tears. “I shall die if you leave me and there will be
none to close my eyes.”
“Brother, you should accept the offer thus made,” said Kuan Yü.
“Why so much fuss?” said Chang Fei. “We have not taken the place; it is
he who wishes to give it you.”
“You all persuade me to do what is wrong,” said Liu Pei.
Thrice did Tʻao entreat Liu Pei and thrice was he refused. Then he
said, “As he is set in his determination perhaps he will consent to
encamp at Hsiaopʻei. It is only a little town, but thence he can keep
watch and ward over this city.”
They all with one voice prayed Liu Pei to consent so he gave in. The
feast of victory being now ended the time came to say farewell. When
Chao Yün took his leave Liu Pei held his hands alternately while
dashing away the falling tears. Kʻung Jung and his leader went home to
their own place.
When Liu Pei and his brothers took up their abode in Hsiaopʻei, they
first repaired the defences and then they put out proclamations in
order to calm the inhabitants.
In the meantime Tsʻao Tsʻao had marched toward his own district. His
cousin, Tsʻao Jên, met him and told him Lü Pu was very strong and he
had Chʻên Kung as adviser. Yenchou was as good as lost, with the
exception of three small districts which had been desperately defended.
Tsʻao Tsʻao said, “I own that Lü Pu is a bold fighter but nothing more;
he has no craft. So we need not fear him seriously.”
Then he gave orders to make a strong camp till they could think out
some victorious plan. Lü Pu, knowing of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s return, called
two of his subordinate captains, Hsüeh Lan and Li Fêng, to him and
assigned to them the task of holding Yenchou, saying “I have long
waited for opportunity to employ your skill: now I give you a legion
and you are to hold the city while I go forth to attack Tsʻao Tsʻao.”
They made no objection. But Chʻên Kung, the strategist, came in hastily
saying, “You are going away; whither?”
“I am going to camp my men at Puyang, that vantage point.”
“You are making a mistake,” said Chʻên Kung. “The two you have chosen
to defend this are unequal to the task. For this expedition remember
that about one hundred and eighty li due south, on the road to
Tʻaishan, is a very advantageous position where you should place your
best men in ambush. Tsʻao Tsʻao will hasten homeward by double marches
when he hears what has happened and if you strike when half his men
have gone past this point you may seize him.”
Said Lü Pu, “I am going to occupy Puyang and see what develops. How can
you guess?”
So he left the two captains in command at Yenchou and went away.
Now when Tsʻao Tsʻao approached the dangerous part of the road near
Tʻaishan, Kuo Chia warned him to take care as there was doubtless an
ambush. But his master laughed, “We know all his dispositions. Do you
think he has laid an ambush? I shall tell Tsʻao Jên to besiege Yenchou
and I shall go to Puyang.”
When Chʻên Kung heard of the enemy’s approach he spoke, saying “The
enemy will be fatigued with long marches so attack quickly before they
have time to recover.”
Lü Pu replied, “I, a single horseman, am afraid of none. I go and come
as I will. Think you I fear this Tsʻao Tsʻao? Let him settle his camp;
I will take him after that.”
Now Tsʻao Tsʻao neared Puyang and he made a camp. And soon after he led
out his commanders and they arrayed their men in open and desert
country. Tsʻao Tsʻao took up his station on horseback between the two
standards, watching while his opponents arrived and formed up in a
circular area. Lü Pu was in front, followed by eight of his captains,
all strong men. Two were called Chang Liao and Tsang Pa; and there were
six others. They had five legions.
The drums began their thunderous roll and Tsʻao, pointing to his
opponent, said, “You and I had no quarrel, why then did you invade my
land?”
“The Empire of Han is the possession of all; what is your special
claim?” said Lü.
So saying he ordered Tsang Pa to ride forth and challenge. From Tsʻao’s
side the challenge was accepted by Yo Chin. The two steeds approached
each other, two spears were lifted both together and they exchanged
near two score blows with no advantage to either. Then Hsiahou Tun rode
out to help his colleague and, in reply, out went Chang Liao from Lü
Pu’s side. And they four fought.
Then fierce anger seized upon Lü Pu. Setting his spear he urged his
steed forward to where the fight was waging. Seeing him approach
Hsiahou and Yo both fled, but Lü Pu pressed on after them and Tsʻao
Tsʻao’s army lost the day. Retiring a long way they made a new camp. Lü
Pu called in and mustered his men.
The day having gone against him Tsʻao Tsʻao called a council and Yü
Chin said, “From the hill tops to-day I saw a camp of our enemies on
the west of Puyang. They were but few men therein, and to-night after
to-day’s victory, it will not be defended. Let us attack and if we can
take the camp we shall strike fear into the heart of Lü Pu. This is our
best plan.”
Tsʻao thought so too. He and six of his lieutenants and two legions
left that night by a secret road for the camp.
In Lü Pu’s camp was rejoicing for that day’s victory when Chʻên Kung
reminded him of the west camp and its importance, and said that it
might be attacked, Lü Pu replied that the enemy would not dare approach
after that day’s defeat.
“Tsʻao Tsʻao is a very able commander,” replied Kung. “You must keep a
good lookout for him lest he attack our weak spot.”
So arrangements were made for defence. At dusk Tsʻao Tsʻao reached the
camp and began an immediate attack on all four sides. The defenders
could not hold him off. They ran in all directions and the camp was
captured. Near the fourth watch, when the party told off to help defend
the camp reached it, Tsʻao Tsʻao sallied forth to meet them and met Kao
Shun. Another battle then began and waged till dawn. About that time a
rolling of drums was heard in the west and they told Tsʻao that Lü Pu
himself was at hand. Thereupon Tsʻao Tsʻao abandoned the attack and
fled.
They pursued him, Lü Pu taking the lead. Two of Tsʻao’s lieutenants
attacked the pursuers but could not check them. Tsʻao went away north.
But from behind some hills came out more of Lü Pu’s army and as they
could not be beaten off Tsʻao sought safety in the west. Here again his
retreat was barred.
The fight became desperate. Tsʻao Tsʻao dashed at the enemy’s array.
The din was terrible. Arrows fell like pelting rain upon them and they
could make no headway. He was desperate and cried out in fear, “Who can
save me?”
Then from the crush dashed out Tien Wei with his double lance, crying
“Fear not, my master.” He leapt from his steed, leaned his double lance
against a wall and laid hold of a handful of darts. Turning to his
followers he said, “When the ruffians are at ten paces, call out to
me.”
Then he set off with mighty strides, plunging forward careless of the
flying arrows. Lü Pu’s horsemen followed and when they got near the
followers shouted, “Ten paces!”
“Five, then call!” shouted back Tien Wei, and went on.
Presently, “Five paces!”
Then Tien Wei spun round and flung the darts. With every fling a man
fell from the saddle and never a dart missed.
Having thus slain half a score the remainder fled and Tien quickly
remounted his steed, set his twin lance and rushed again into the fight
with a vigour that none could withstand. One by one his opponents
yielded and he was able to lead Tsʻao Tsʻao safely out of the press of
battle. Tsʻao and his captains went to their camp.
But as evening fell the noise of pursuit fell on their ears and soon
appeared Lü Pu himself. “Tsʻao, you rebel, do not flee!” shouted he as
he approached with his halberd ready for a thrust.
All stopped and looked in each others’ faces: the men were weary, their
steeds spent. Fear smote them and they looked around for some place of
refuge.
You may lead your lord safely out of the press,
But what if the enemy follow?
We cannot say here what Tsʻao Tsʻao’s fate was, but the next chapter
will relate.