TSʻAO TSʻAO DISCUSSES HEROES:
KUAN YU SLAYS CHʻÊ CHOU.
“Who is it?” was the question on the lips of the conspirators.
Ma Tʻêng’s reply was, “The Governor of Yüchow, Liu Pei. He is here and
we will ask him to help.”
“Though he is an uncle of the Emperor, he is at present a partizan of
our enemy, and he will not join.”
“But I saw something at the hunt,” said Ma Tʻêng. “When Tsʻao Tsʻao
advanced to acknowledge the congratulations due to the Emperor,
Yüan-tê’s sworn brother Kuan Yü was behind him, and grasped his sword
as if to cut down Tsʻao Tsʻao. However, Yüan-tê signed to him to hold
his hand and he did. He would willingly destroy Tsʻao, only he thinks
his teeth and claws are too many. You must ask him and he will surely
consent.”
Here Wu Shih urged caution. “Do not go too fast,” said he. “Let us
consider the thing most carefully.”
They dispersed. Next day after dark Tung Chʻêng went to Liu Pei’s
lodging taking with him the decree. As soon as he was announced Yüan-tê
came to greet him and led him into a private room where they could talk
freely. The two younger brothers were there as well.
“It must be something unusually important that has brought you here
to-night,” said Pei.
“If I had ridden forth by daylight, Tsʻao might have suspected
something so I came by night.”
Wine was brought in and while they were drinking Tung Chʻêng said, “Why
did you check your brother the other day at the hunt when he was going
to attack Tsʻao Tsʻao?”
Yüan-tê was startled and said, “How did you know?”
“Nobody noticed but I saw.”
Yüan-tê could not prevaricate and said, “It was the presumption of the
man that made my brother so angry; he could not help it.”
The visitor covered his face and wept. “Ah,” said he, “if all the Court
Ministers were like him, there would be no sighs for lack of
tranquillity.”
Now Yüan-tê felt that possibly Tsʻao Tsʻao had sent his visitor to try
him, so he cautiously replied, “Where are the sighs for lack of
tranquillity while Tsʻao Tsʻao is at the head of affairs?”
Tung Chʻêng changed colour and rose from his seat. “You, Sir, are a
relative of His Majesty and so I showed you my inmost feelings. Why did
you mislead me?”
“Because I feared you might be misleading me, and I wanted to find
out.”
At this Tung Chʻêng drew out the decree he had received and showed it.
His host was deeply moved. Then he produced the pledge. There were only
six names to it and these were Tung Chʻêng, Wang Tzŭ-fu, Chʻung Chi, Wu
Shih, Wu Tzŭ-lan and Ma Tʻêng.
“Since you have a decree like this, I cannot but do my share,” said Liu
Pei and at Tung Chʻêng’s request he added his name and signature to the
others and handed it back.
“Now let us but get three more, which will make ten, and we shall be
ready to act.”
“But you must move with great caution and not let this get abroad,”
said Yüan-tê.
The two remained talking till an early hour in the morning when the
visitor left.
Now in order to put Tsʻao Tsʻao quite off the scent that any plot
against him was in progress, Liu Pei began to devote himself to
gardening, planting vegetables and watering them with his own hands.
His brothers ventured to remonstrate with him for taking to such an
occupation when great matters needed attention.
“The reason for this you may not know,” replied he. And they said no
more.
One day when the two brothers were absent and Yüan-tê was busy in his
garden, two messengers with an escort came from Tsʻao Tsʻao, saying,
“The command of the Minister is that you come at once.”
“What important affair is afoot?” asked he nervously.
“We know nothing: we were ordered to come and request your presence.”
All he could do was to follow. When he arrived Tsʻao met him and
laughingly said, “That is a big business you have in hand at home.”
This remark made Liu Pei turn the colour of clay. But Tsʻao took him by
the hand and led him straight to the private garden, saying, “The
growth of vegetables that you are trying to learn is very difficult.”
Yüan-tê breathed again. He said, “That is hardly a business, it is only
a solace.”
Tsʻao said, “I happened to notice the green plums on the trees to-day
and suddenly my thoughts went back to a year ago when we were thrashing
Chang Hsiu. We were marching through a parched district and every one
was suffering from thirst. Suddenly I lifted my whip and pointing at
something in the distance I said, “Look at those plum trees.” The
soldiers heard it and it made their mouths water. Now I owe something
to the plums and we will pay it to-day. I ordered the servants to heat
some wine very hot and sent to invite you to share it.”
Yüan-tê was quite composed by this time and no longer suspected any
sinister design. He went with his host to a small summer house, where
the wine cups were already laid out and green plums filled the dishes.
After a goblet of wine had been swallowed they sat down to a
confidential talk and enjoyment of their wine.
As they drank the weather gradually changed, clouds gathering and
threatening rain. The servants pointed out a mass of cloud that looked
like a dragon hung in the sky. Both host and guest went to the window
and leaned over the rail looking at it.
“Do you understand the evolutions of dragons?” asked Tsʻao of the
guest.
“Not in detail.”
“A dragon can assume any size, can rise in glory or hide from sight.
Bulky, it generates clouds and evolves mist; attenuated, it can
scarcely hide a mustard stalk or conceal a shadow. Mounting, it can
soar to the empyrean; subsiding, it lurks in the uttermost depths of
the ocean. This is the mid-spring season and the dragon chooses this
moment for his transformations, like a man realising his desires and
overrunning the world. The dragon among animals compares with the hero
among men. You, O Yüan-tê, with your experience must know who are the
heroes of the present day and I wish you would say who they are.”
“How can a dullard like me know such things?”
“Do not be so modest.”
“Thanks to your kindly protection I have a post at Court. But as to
heroes I really do not know who they are.”
“You may not have looked upon their faces, but you have heard their
names.”
“Yüan Shu, with his resources; is he one?”
His host laughed, “A rotting bone in a graveyard. I shall put him out
of the way shortly.”
“Well, Yüan Shao then. The highest offices of State have been held in
his family for four generations and his clients are many. He is firmly
posted in Ichou and he commands the services of many able men. Surely
he is one.”
“A bully, but a coward; he is fond of grandiose schemes, but is devoid
of decision; he makes for great things but grudges the necessary toil.
He loses sight of everything else in view of a little present
advantage. He is not one.”
“There is Liu Ching-shêng. He is renowned as a man of perfection, whose
fame has spread on all sides. Surely he is a hero.”
“He is a mere semblance, a man of vain reputation. No; not he.”
“Sun Tsʻê is a sturdy sort, the chief of all in the east. Is he a
hero?”
“He has profited by his father’s reputation; he is no hero.”
“What of Liu Chang?”
“Though he is of the reigning family, he is nothing more than a watch
dog. How could you make a hero of him?”
“What about Chang Hsiu, Chang Lu, Han Sui and all those?”
Tsʻao clapped his hands and laughed very loudly. “Paltry people like
them are not worth mentioning.”
“With these exceptions I really know none.”
“Now heroes are men who cherish lofty designs in their bosoms and have
plans to achieve them; they have all-embracing schemes and the whole
world is at their mercy.”
“Who is such a man?” said Yüan-tê.
Tsʻao pointed his finger first at his guest and then at himself,
saying, “The only heroes in the world are you and I.”
Yüan-tê gasped and the spoon and chopsticks rattled to the floor. Now
just at that moment the storm burst with a tremendous peal of thunder
and rush of rain. Yüan-tê stooped down to recover the fallen articles,
saying, “What a shock! and it was quite close.”
“What! are you afraid of thunder?” said Tsʻao.
Yüan-tê replied, “The wise man paled at a sudden peal of thunder or
fierce gust of wind. Why should one not fear?”
Thus he glossed over the real fact, that it was the words he had heard
that had so startled him.
Constrained to lodge in a tiger’s lair,
He played a waiting part,
But when Tsʻao talked of breaking men,
Then terror gripped his heart.
But he cleverly used the thunder peal
As excuse for turning pale;
O quick to seize occasions thus!
He surely must prevail.
The shower had passed and there appeared two men rushing through the
garden, both armed. In spite of the attendants they forced their way to
the pavilion where sat the two friends. They were Kuan Yü and Chang
Fei.
The two brothers had been outside the city at archery practice when
Tsʻao Tsʻao’s invitation had come so peremptorily. On their return they
heard that two officers had arrived and led away Yüan-tê to the
Minister. They hastened to his palace and were told their brother was
with his host in the grounds and they feared something had happened. So
they rushed in. Now when they saw their brother quietly talking with
Tsʻao and enjoying a cup of wine, they took up their usual places and
meekly stood waiting.
“Why did you come?” said Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“We heard that you, Sir, had invited our brother to a wine party and we
came to amuse you with a little sword play,” said they.
“This is not a Hungmên banquet,” replied Tsʻao. “What use have we for
two Hsiangs?”
Yüan-tê smiled. The host ordered wine to be served to the two “Fan
Kʻuai” to allay their excitement and, soon after, the three took their
leave and returned homeward.
“We were nearly frightened to death,” said Kuan Yü.
The story of the dropped chopsticks was told. The two asked what their
brother intended by his actions and he told them that his learning
gardening was to convince Tsʻao Tsʻao of his perfect simplicity and the
absence of any ambition. “But,” said he, “when he suddenly pointed to
me as one of the heroes I was startled, for I thought he had some
suspicions. Happily the thunder at that moment supplied the excuse I
wanted.”
“Really you are very clever,” said they.
Next day Tsʻao again invited Yüan-tê and while the two were drinking,
Man Chʻung, who had been despatched to find out what Yüan Shao was
doing, came to present his report.
He said, “Kungsun Tsan has been completely defeated by Yüan.”
“Do you know the details? I should like to know how,” interrupted Liu
Pei.
“They were at war and Tsan got the worst of it, so he acted on the
defensive, building a high wall about his army and on that erecting a
high tower, which he called the I-ching Tower. Therein he placed all
his grain and took up his own quarters. His fighting men passed in and
out without ceasing, some going out to give battle, others returning to
rest. One of them was surrounded and sent to ask Kungsun to rescue him.
Kungsun said, “If I rescue him, hereafter every one will want to be
helped and will not exert himself.” So he did not go. This disgusted
his men and many deserted to the enemy so that his army diminished. He
sent letters to the capital to crave help, but the messenger was
captured. He sent to Chang Yen to arrange with him for a joint attack
and those letters with the plans also fell into Shao’s hands and the
plans were adopted by his enemy, who gave the signals agreed upon. Thus
Tsan fell into an ambush, lost heavily and retreated into the city.
There he was besieged and a subterranean passage was pierced into the
tower where he lodged. The tower was set on fire and Kungsun could not
escape. So he slew his wife and little ones and committed suicide. The
flames destroyed the bodies of the whole family.
“Yüan Shao has added the remnants of the vanquished army to his own and
so become yet stronger. His brother Yüan Shu in Honan, however, has
become so arrogant and cruel that the people have turned against him.
Then he had sent to say he would yield the title of Emperor, which he
had assumed, in favour of his brother. His brother Shao demanded the
seal also and Yüan Shu promised to bring it in person. Now he has
abandoned Huainan and is about to occupy Hopei. If he succeeded, the
two brothers will control adjoining districts and be dangerous.”
It was a sad story and Yüan-tê remembered with sorrow that, in the days
of success and prosperity, the dead chieftain had pushed his interest
and shown him much kindness. Moreover he was anxious to know the fate
of Chao Tzŭ-lung.
In his heart he thought, “What better chance am I likely to get of
setting myself free?”
So he rose and said to Tsʻao Tsʻao, “If Yüan Shu goes over to join his
brother he will surely pass through Hsüchou. I beg you to give me an
army with which to smite him on the way. That will finish Yüan Shu.”
“Memorialise the Emperor to-morrow and I will give you an army,” said
Tsʻao.
So next day Yüan-tê went to an audience and Tsʻao gave him command of
five legions, horse and foot, and sent Chu Ling and Lu Chao with him.
At parting with Liu Pei the Emperor shed tears. As soon as he reached
his lodging he set about preparations for immediate departure,
returning his seal as General and preparing his weapons. Tung Chʻêng
went out some distance on the road to bid him farewell.
“You must not mind my going; this journey will assuredly help on the
scheme,” said Liu Pei.
“Keep your mind fixed on that,” said Tung, “and never forget what His
Majesty requires of us.”
They parted. Presently his brothers asked him why he was in such a
hurry to get away.
He replied, “I have been a bird in a cage, a fish in a net. This is
like the fish regaining the open sea and the bird soaring into the blue
sky. I suffered much from the confinement.”
Now Kuo Chia and Chʻêng Yü had been absent inspecting stores and
supplies when Liu Pei left. As soon as they heard of his expedition
they went in to see their master, asking him why he had let Liu Pei go
in command of an army.
“He is going to cut off Yüan Shu.”
“Formerly, when he was governor of Yüchou, we recommended that he
should be put to death but you would not hear of it. Now you have given
him an army. You have allowed the dragon to reach the sea, the tiger to
return to the mountains. What control will you have in future?”
So spoke Chʻêng Yü and Kuo Chia followed in the same strain.
“Even if you would not put him to death you need not have let him go.
As the proverb says, ‘Relax opposition for one day and age-long harm
ensues.’ You must admit the truth of this.”
Tsʻao recognised that these were prudent counsels so he sent Hsü Chʻu
with a half company and imperative orders to bring Yüan-tê back again.
Liu Pei was marching as rapidly as possible when he noticed a cloud of
dust in the rear and remarked to his brothers, “Surely they are
pursuing us.”
He halted and made a stockade and ordered his brothers to be in
readiness, one on each flank. Presently the messenger arrived and found
himself in the midst of an army ready for battle. He dismounted and
entered the camp to speak with Yüan-tê.
“Sir, on what business have you come?” asked Pei.
“The Minister has sent me to request you to return as he has further
matters to discuss with you.”
“When a general has once taken the field even the royal command is of
no effect. I bade farewell to the Emperor, I received the Minister’s
commands and there can be nothing further to talk about. You may return
forthwith and take that as my reply.”
The messenger was undecided what action to take. He knew of the
friendship that existed between the Minister and his late guest and he
had no orders to kill. He could only return with this reply and ask
further instructions. So he left. When he related what had occurred
Tsʻao still hesitated to take any action. His advisers urged upon him
that this refusal to return meant enmity.
“Still, two of my men are with him,” said Tsʻao. “He will not dare do
anything unfriendly, I think. Beside, I sent him and I cannot go back
on my own orders.”
So Yüan-tê was not pursued.
He took his arms, he fed his steed,
And fared forth willingly,
Intent to accomplish his King’s behest
Deep graved on his memory.
At least he had broken out of his cage,
He heard not the tiger’s roar,
He had shaken the shackles from his feet,
As a dragon on high could soar.
As soon as Ma Tʻêng heard that Liu Pei had set forth he reported that
pressing business called him and marched back to his own district.
When Yüan-tê reached Hsüchou the governor, Chʻê Chou, came to meet him,
and when the official banquet was over, Sun Chʻien and Mi Chu came to
visit him. Then he proceeded to his residence to greet his family.
Scouts were sent out to see what Yüan Shu was doing. They came back
with the intelligence that his arrogance had driven away his banditti
allies, who had returned to their mountain fastnesses. His forces thus
reduced he had written resigning the Imperial style he had assumed in
favour of his brother Shao, who had at once commanded his presence.
Thereupon he packed up the palace fittings he had had made, got the
remnants of his army in order and marched west.
When he neared Hsüchou, Yüan-tê led out his captains with the five
legions to meet him. Yüan sent out Chi Ling to force a way through. But
Chang Fei opposed him and attacked without a parley. In the tenth bout
he cut down Chi Ling. The defeated soldiers fled in all directions.
Then Yüan Shu came up with his own army. Yüan-tê placed his captains
right and left, he himself being in the centre, and so met Yüan Shu. As
soon as the enemy came near Yüan-tê began to abuse him. “O rebellious
one, and wicked, I have a command to destroy you. Yield, then, with
good grace and so escape your punishment.”
“Base weaver of mats and mean maker of straw sandals, how dare you make
light of me?” replied Shu and he gave the signal for an attack.
Yüan-tê retired and his captains from the flanks closed in. They smote
the army of Shu till corpses littered the plain and blood flowed in
streams. At the same time the bandits attacked the baggage train and
completed the destruction. Shu tried to retreat to Shouchʻun but the
bandits barred the road.
He sought refuge in Chiangtʻing, with the small company left of all his
army. And these were the weakly ones able neither to fight nor flee. It
was then the height of summer and their food was nearly exhausted. The
whole provision consisted of thirty measures of wheat. This was made
over to the soldiers and the members of his household went hungry. Many
died of actual starvation. Yüan Shu could not swallow the coarse food
that the soldiers lived on. One day he bade his cook bring him some
honey-water to quench his thirst.
“There is no water, save that tainted with blood,” replied the cook.
“Where can I get honey-water?”
This was the last straw. Shu sat up on his couch and rolled out on the
floor with a loud cry. Blood gushed from his mouth and thus he died. It
was the sixth month of the fourth year of “Established Tranquillity.”
The last days of Han approached and weapons clashed in every
quarter,
The misguided Yüan Shu, lost to all sense of honour,
Forgetful of his forefathers, who had filled the State’s highest
Offices,
Madly aspired to become himself Emperor,
Resting his outrageous claim on the possession of The Seal,
And arrogantly boasting that thus he fulfilled the design of
Heaven.
Alas! Sick unto death he vainly begged for a little honey-water;
He died, alone.
Yüan Shu being dead, his nephew taking his coffin and his wife and
children, sought shelter in Luchiang. There the magistrate, Hsü Chʻiu,
slew all the survivors. Among the possessions he found the Imperial
Seal, which he at once took to the capital and presented to Tsʻao
Tsʻao, for which service he was made Prefect of Kaoling.
When Yüan-tê heard that Yüan Shu was dead he prepared a report to the
throne, and sent it to Tsʻao Tsʻao. He sent the two officers deputed by
Tsʻao Tsʻao back to the capital, keeping the army to defend Hsüchou. He
also personally went through the country-side commanding the people to
resume their ordinary avocations.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was angry when his two officers returned without their man
and was going to put them to death. Hsün Yü reasoned with him.
“The power was in Liu Pei’s hands and so these two had no alternative,”
said he.
So they were pardoned.
“You should instruct Chʻê Chou to try to destroy him,” said Yü.
Accordingly he sent secret orders to Chʻê Chou, who took Chʻên Têng
into his confidence and asked his advice. Têng advised an ambush in the
city gate to attack Liu Pei on his return from the country; he himself
would attack the escort with arrows from the city walls. Chʻê agreed to
try this.
Then Têng went to his father to tell him. His father Chʻên Kuei bade
him go and warn the intended victim. He at once rode away to do so.
Before long he met the two younger brothers, to whom he told his story.
Now Yüan-tê was following some distance behind. As soon as Chang Fei
heard of the plot he wanted to attack the ambush, but Yün-chʻang said
he had a better plan.
Said he, “The ambush will be a failure. And I think we can compass the
death of Chʻê Chou. In the night we will pretend to be some of Tsʻao’s
men and entice him out to meet us. We will slay him.”
Chang Fei approved of the plan. Now the soldiers still had some of
Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army banners and wore similar armour. About the third
watch they came to the city wall and hailed the gate. Those on guard
asked who they were. The men replied that they were Chang Wên-yüan’s
troop sent from the capital. This was told Chʻê Chou who sent hastily
for Chʻên Têng to ask his advice.
“If I do not receive them they will suspect my loyalty,” said he. “Yet
if I go out I may be victim of a ruse.”
So he went up on the wall and said it was too dark to distinguish
friends from foes and they must wait till daylight. The men shouted
back that Liu Pei must be kept in ignorance and they begged him to let
them in. Still Chʻê Chou hesitated. They shouted louder than ever to
open the gate.
Presently Chʻê girded on his armour, placed himself at the head of a
company and went out. He galloped over the bridge, shouting, “Where is
Wên-yüan?”
Then lights blazed around and he recognised Kuan Yü with his sword
drawn.
“Wretch!” cried Kuan Yü. “You would plot to slay my brother, would
you?”
Chʻê Chou was too frightened to make good defence and he turned to
re-enter the gate. But as he reached the drawbridge flights of arrows
met him, wherefore he turned aside and galloped along under the wall.
But Kuan Yü came quickly in pursuit. His sword was raised aloft and as
it came down the fugitive fell to the earth. Kuan Yü cut off his head
and returned, shouting, “I have slain the traitor. You others need not
fear if you only surrender.”
They threw aside their spears and gave in. As soon as the excitement
had calmed Kuan Yü took the head to show Yüan-tê and told him the story
of the plot.
“But what will Tsʻao Tsʻao think of this?” said Yüan-tê. “And he may
come.”
“If he does we can meet him,” said Kuan Yü.
But Yüan-tê was grieved beyond measure. When he entered the city the
elders of the people knelt in the road to welcome him. When he reached
his residence he found that Chang Fei had already exterminated the
family of Chʻê Chou.
Yüan-tê said, “We have slain one of his best friends and how will he
stand that?”
“Never mind!” cried Chʻên Têng. “I have a plan.”
Just from grave danger extricated,
An injured friend must be placated.
The plan proposed by Chʻên Têng will be disclosed next.