FROM TʻUSHAN CAMP KUAN YÜ MAKES THREE CONDITIONS:
THE RESCUE AT PAIMA RELEASES TSʻAO TSʻAO.
The plan to seduce Kuan Yü from allegiance to his brothers was now
announced by its proposer. Since Kuan was far braver than ordinary men
he could only be overreached by superior cunning. So it was proposed to
send some of his soldiers who had lately been of Liu Pei’s army into
Hsiapʻi, where they would say they had come back. They would thus be
allies on the inside. Then an attack and a feigned defeat would entice
Kuan to a distance from the city. And his return road would be cut.
Tsʻao Tsʻao accepted the scheme and a few score of the men who had
lately been in Hsüchou were sent to the city. The commander believed
the story they told and trusted them. So they were suffered to remain.
After this part of the game had been played, Hsiahou Tun led forward
five companies against the city. At first Kuan Yü would not accept the
challenge, but provoked by men sent to hurl insults at him from the
foot of the wall, his wrath got the better of him and he moved out with
three companies. After the leaders had exchanged a half score bouts Tun
made to run away. Kuan Yü pursued. Tun stopped and made a stand; then
he fled again. Thus alternately fighting and retiring, he enticed Kuan
Yü twenty li from the city. Then Kuan suddenly remembering the risk to
the city drew off his men to return homeward.
Soon, at the sound of a signal bomb, out moved two bodies of men who
barred his way. Kuan Yü hastened along a road that seemed to offer
retreat, but from both sides his ambushed enemies shot their crossbows
and the arrows flew like locusts on the wing. No way past was found and
he turned back. Then both bodies joined in attacking him. He drove them
off and got into the road to his own city, but soon Hsiahou Tun came up
again and attacked fiercely as before. Evening came and still Kuan was
hemmed in, so he went up on a low hill upon which he encamped for a
rest.
He was surrounded on all sides by enemies. By and by, looking toward
his city, he saw the glow of fire. It meant that the traitors, who had
come in to surrender, had opened the gate and the enemy had gone in in
force. They had made the fires in order to perplex and distress Kuan Yü
and indeed the sight saddened him.
In the night he made efforts to escape from the hill, but every attempt
was checked by flights of arrows. At daybreak he prepared for one more
effort, but before moving he saw a horseman riding up at full speed and
presently discerned Chang Liao. When within speaking distance, Kuan Yü
said, “Are you come to fight me, Wên-yüan?”
“No,” replied Chang Liao. “I am come to see you because of our old
friendship.”
Wherefore he threw aside his sword, dismounted and came forward
saluting. And the two sat down.
“Then naturally you have come to talk me over,” said Kuan Yü.
“Not so;” said Chang Liao. “Sometime ago you saved me; can I help
saving you?”
“Then you desire to help me.”
“Not exactly that,” replied Chang.
“Then what are you doing here if you have not come to help me?”
“Nothing is known of the fate of your elder brother, nor whether your
younger brother is alive or dead. Last night your city fell into the
hands of Tsʻao Tsʻao, but neither soldiers nor people were harmed and a
special guard was set over the family of Yüan-tê lest they should be
alarmed. I came to tell you how well they had been treated.”
“This is certainly talking me over,” said Kuan testily. “Though escape
is impossible yet I am not perturbed. I look upon death as going home.
You had better depart quickly and let me go down and begin the struggle
again.”
“Surely you must know everybody will ridicule you when they hear of
this,” said Chang, laughing loud.
“I shall die for loyalty and righteousness. Who will laugh?” said Kuan.
“You would be guilty of three faults if you died.”
“Tell me them,” said Kuan.
“First of all you and your elder brother pledged yourselves in the
Peach Garden to die or to live together. Now your brother has been
defeated and you want to fight to the death. Therefore, if your brother
appear again by and by and wants your help, he will seek it in vain. Is
this anything else than betraying the Peach Garden oath? Secondly you
are in charge of your brother’s family and, if you fought and died, the
two women would be left forlorn and without a protector. That would be
a betrayal of trust. Thirdly your military skill stands out conspicuous
and will go down in history. If you do not aid your brother in his
noble attempt to maintain the Dynasty then all your labours and
sufferings will have been spent to win a worthless reputation as a
valiant fool. Where is the sense in that? I feel it my duty to point
out these three faults to you.”
Kuan Yü remained silent and thought for some time. Then he said, “You
have spoken of my three faults. What do you desire?”
“You are surrounded with the certainty of death if you do not yield.
There is no advantage in a useless death. Wherefore your best course is
to yield to Tsʻao Tsʻao till you hear news of Liu Pei and can rejoin
him. Thus you will ensure the safety of the two ladies and also keep
inviolate the Peach Garden compact. You will preserve a useful life.
Brother, you must reflect on these things.”
“Brother, you have spoken of three advantages; now I have three
conditions. If the Minister concede these then will I doff my armour.
If he refuse, then I prefer to be guilty of the three faults and die.”
“Why should the Minister not concede them? He is most liberal and large
minded. I pray you to let me hear your conditions.”
“The first is that as I and the Imperial Uncle have sworn to support
the Hans I now submit to the Emperor and not to his minister Tsʻao. The
second condition is that suitable provision be made for the two ladies
under my care and that no one shall be allowed to approach them. The
third is that I shall be allowed to set off to rejoin Uncle Liu so soon
as I shall hear where he is, whether it be far or near. I require all
these to be satisfied; failing a single one, I will not submit.
Wherefore, Wên-yüan, I pray you hasten back and announce them.”
Chang Liao lost no time but rode back to Tsʻao Tsʻao. When he spoke of
Kuan Yü’s intention to submit to the Hans but not to Tsʻao Tsʻao, the
latter smiled, saying, “As I am the Minister of Han, so am I Han. I
grant that.”
Chang then spoke of provision due to their rank and security from
molestation for the ladies, to which Tsʻao replied, “I will give them
twice the regular amount for an Uncle of the Emperor; as for securing
them from molestation, that is simple. The ordinary domestic law is
enough. Why should there be any doubt?”
Then said Chang, “Whenever he shall get news of the whereabouts of
Yüan-tê, he must go to him.”
At this Tsʻao shook his head, saying, “Then I am merely to feed
Yün-chʻang. What is the use of this? I cannot consent.”
Chang replied, “You must know of the difference in Yü Jang’s behaviour
brought about by difference of treatment? Yüan-tê treats Yün-chʻang
just kindly and liberally; you can surely engage his heart and support
by being kinder and more liberal.”
“What you say is much to the point. I will grant the three conditions,”
said Tsʻao.
Whereupon Chang Liao left to carry the news to Kuan Yü, still on the
summit of the hill.
“Now I expect the army to withdraw so that I may enter the city to tell
the two ladies what has been arranged. After that I submit at once.”
Chang Liao rode back once more with this request and the order was
given for the army to retire ten li.
“Do not do this,” said Hsün Yü. “I fear treachery.”
“He will certainly not break faith,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao. “He is too high
principled.”
The army retired and Kuan Yü with his force re-entered the city, where
he saw that the people were following their ordinary avocations in
tranquillity. He came to the palace and went in to see the two ladies,
who hastened to meet him. He bowed to them below the steps and said, “I
apologise for having caused you to feel alarmed.”
“Where is the Uncle?” asked they.
“I know not whither he has gone.”
“What do you intend to do, brother-in-law?”
“I went out of the city to try a last battle. I was surrounded on a
hill top and Chang Liao has urged me to yield. I proposed three
conditions, all of which were conceded, and the enemy drew off to allow
me to return to the city. Unless I have your decision, sisters-in-law,
I scarcely dare to take any final step.”
They asked what were the conditions and were told. Then Kan Fu-jên
said, “When Tsʻao’s army came in we took it to mean certain death. But
it is scarcely credible that not a hair of our heads has been
disturbed, not a soldier has dared enter our doors. You have accepted
the conditions, brother-in-law, and there is no need to ask our
consent. Our only fear is that he will not let you go by and by to
search for the Uncle.”
“Sisters-in-law, you need not be anxious. I will see to that.”
“You must decide everything and need not ask us women-kind.”
Kuan Yü withdrew and then, with a small escort, went to his interview
with Tsʻao Tsʻao. Tsʻao came to the outermost gate to welcome him and
Kuan Yü dismounted and made obeisance. Tsʻao returned his salute with
the greatest cordiality.
“The leader of a defeated army is grateful for the graciousness that
has preserved his life,” said Kuan Yü.
“I have so long admired your loyalty and high principles that this
happy meeting gratifies the desire of my whole life,” replied Tsʻao.
“As the Minister has granted the three requests which my friend
petitioned for on my behalf there is now but little to discuss,” said
Kuan.
“As I have spoken, so be it; I could not break faith,” replied Tsʻao.
“Whenever I hear where Uncle Liu is I must certainly go to him, even if
through fire and water. It may be that there there will be no
opportunity of taking leave. I trust you will understand the reason.”
“If Liu Pei should prove to be alive you must certainly be allowed to
go to him. But I fear that in the confusion he may have lost his life.
You may set your mind at rest and let me make enquiries.”
Kuan Yü thanked him. Then a banquet was prepared in his honour. Next
day the army started on its homeward march.
For the journey to the capital a carriage was prepared for the two
ladies and Kuan Yü was its guard. On the road they rested at a certain
post station and Tsʻao Tsʻao, anxious to compromise Kuan by beguiling
him into forgetfulness of his duty, assigned him to the same apartment
as his sisters-in-law. Kuan stood the whole night before the door with
a lighted candle in his hand. Not once did he yield to fatigue. Tsʻao
Tsʻao’s respect for him could not but increase.
At the capital the Minister assigned a dignified residence to Kuan Yü,
which he immediately divided into two enclosures, the inner one for the
two ladies and the other for himself. He placed a guard of eighteen of
his veterans over the women’s quarters.
Kuan Yü was presented to the Emperor Hsien who conferred upon him the
rank of General. Soon after Tsʻao made a great banquet, inviting all
his advisers and fighting men, solely in honour of Kuan Yü, who sat in
the seat of honour. Beside this he received presents of silks and gold
and silver vessels, all of which were sent into the ladies’ quarters
for their use and keeping. In fact from the day of arrival in the
capital Kuan Yü was treated with marked respect and distinction,
banquets and feasts following each other in quick succession.
Tsʻao Tsʻao also presented him with ten most lovely serving girls;
these also were sent within to wait upon his two sisters-in-law.
Every third day Kuan Yü went to the door of the women’s quarters to
enquire after their welfare, and then they asked if any news of the
wanderer had come. This ceremony closed with the words “Brother-in-law,
you may retire when you wish.”
Tsʻao heard of this extremely correct behaviour and thought all the
more of the man for it.
One day Tsʻao noticed that the robe Kuan Yü was wearing was old and
frayed. Taking his measurements Tsʻao had a new one made of fine
brocade and presented it to him. He took it and put it on under the old
robe, so that the latter covered it.
“Why so very thrifty?” laughed Tsʻao.
“It is not thrift,” was his reply. “The old robe was a gift from my
brother and I wear it because it reminds me of him. I could not allow
the new gift to eclipse his old one.”
“How very high principled!” said Tsʻao Tsʻao sighing.
But he was not pleased with the man for all that he praised his
conduct. One day when Kuan Yü was at home there came a messenger to say
that the two women had thrown themselves on the ground and were
weeping. They would not say why. Kuan Yü set his dress in order, went
over and knelt by the door saying, “Why this grief, sisters-in-law?”
Kan Fu-jên replied, “In the night I dreamed that the Uncle had fallen
into a pit. I woke up and told Mi Fu-jên and we think he must be dead.
So we weep.”
“Dreams are not to be credited,” he replied. “You dreamed of him
because you were thinking of him. Pray do not grieve.”
Just then Kuan Yü was invited to another banquet so he took leave of
the ladies and went. Seeing Kuan looked sad and tearful his host asked
the reason.
“My sisters-in-law have been weeping for my brother and I cannot help
being sad in sympathy.”
Tsʻao smiled and tried to cheer up his guest. He plied him with wine so
that he became quite intoxicated and sat stroking his beard and saying,
“What a useless thing am I! I could do no service for my country and I
have parted from my elder brother.”
“How many hairs in your beard?” suddenly asked his host.
“Some hundreds, perhaps. In the autumn a few fall out, but in the
winter it is fullest. Then I use a black silk bag to keep the hairs
from being broken,” replied Kuan.
Tsʻao had a bag made for him to protect his beard. Soon after when they
were at Court the Emperor asked what was the bag he saw on Kuan Yü’s
breast.
“My beard is rather long, Your Majesty,” said Kuan. “So the Minister
gave me a bag to protect it.”
The Emperor bade him take off the bag and show his beard in all its
fullness and it fell in rippling waves below his breast.
“Really a most beautiful beard!” said the Emperor.
This is why people call him “The Duke with the Beautiful Beard.”
Another time, after a banquet, Tsʻao was seeing his guest start from
the gate of his palace when he noticed that his charger was very thin.
“Why is he so thin?” said Tsʻao.
“My worthless body is rather heavy and really too much for him. He is
always out of condition.”
Tsʻao at once told his men to bring out a certain steed and before long
he appeared. He was red, like glowing charcoal, and a handsome creature
in every way.
“Do you recognise him?” asked Tsʻao.
“Why, it is no other than ‘Red Hare!’” cried Kuan Yü.
“Yes; it is he,” said Tsʻao, and he presented the horse, all fully
caparisoned, to his guest. Kuan Yü bowed many times and thanked him
again and again, till Tsʻao began to feel displeased and said, “I have
given you many things, lovely handmaids and gold and silks and never
won a bow of gratitude from you before. This horse seems to please you
better than all the rest. Why do you think so poorly of the damsels and
so much of the steed?”
“I know the horse, and his speed, and I am very lucky to get him. Now
as soon as I find out where my brother is I can get to him in a single
day,” said Kuan.
Tsʻao grumbled to himself and began to repent of his gift, but Kuan Yü
took his leave and went away.
Fortune dealt a stunning blow, still he played his part;
Partitioning his dwelling proved his purity of heart.
The crafty Minister desired to win him to his side,
But felt that failure was foredoomed however much he tried.
Said Tsʻao Tsʻao to Chang Liao, “I have treated him pretty liberally,
but he still cherishes the desire to leave me. Do you know if it is
really so?”
“I will try to find out,” was the reply.
So he took an early opportunity of seeing Kuan Yü and when the
politenesses of the visit were over, Liao said, “I recommended you to
the Minister and you have not lost much by that.”
“I am deeply affected by his kindness and bounty,” said Kuan Yü, “but,
though my body is here, yet I am always thinking of my brother.”
“Your words do not express present conditions quite correctly. One who
lives in the world without discrimination and consideration of his
relations with others is not the most admirable type of man. Even
Yüan-tê never treated you better than does the Minister. Why then do
you maintain this desire to get away?”
“I know only too well that he has been most kind, but I have also
received great kindness from Uncle Liu. Beside we have sworn to die
together and I cannot remain here, but before I go I must try to render
him some signal service to prove my gratitude.”
“Supposing Yüan-tê should have left the world, whither will you go?”
said Chang.
“I will follow him to the realms below.”
There could no longer be the least doubt as to Kuan Yü’s intentions and
Chang Liao told Tsʻao Tsʻao just how matters stood. Tsʻao sighed. “To
serve one’s chief with unswerving fidelity is a proof of the highest
principle of all,” said he.
Said Hsün Yü, “He spoke of performing some act of service before
leaving. If he gets no chance of such a thing, he will not be able to
go.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao agreed that this was so.
The story of Yüan-tê broke off at the point when he went to Yüan Shao
for refuge. Here he was always sorrowful and, when asked the reason,
said he did not know where his brothers were nor what had happened to
his family since they fell into the hands of Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“Why should I not be sad when I have failed towards my country and my
family?” said he.
“I have long wished to attack Hsütu,” said Yüan Shao. “Now it is autumn
and just the time for an expedition, so let us discuss plans for the
destruction of Tsʻao Tsʻao.”
Tʻien Fêng at once opposed this. “When Tsʻao Tsʻao attacked Hsüchou and
Hsütu was undefended you let the chance slip by. Now that Hsüchou has
been captured and the soldiers are flushed with victory it would be
madness to attempt it. It is necessary to await another chance.”
“Let me think about it,” said Yüan Shao.
He asked advice from Yüan-tê, whether to attack or to hold on.
Yüan-tê replied, “Tsʻao is a rebel. I think you are failing in your
duty if you do not attack him.”
“Your words are good,” said Shao.
He made up his mind to move. But again the adviser Tʻien intervened.
Then Shao grew angry, saying, “You fellows who cultivate literature and
despise war have made me miss a lot.”
Tʻien Fêng bowed his head and said, “Neglect your servant’s wise words
and you will fail in the field.”
Yüan Shao was so angry that he wanted to put him to death. However
Yüan-tê begged him off and he was only imprisoned.
Seeing the fate of his colleague another adviser, Chu Shou by name,
assembled his clan and distributed among them all his possessions,
saying, “I go with the army. If we succeed, then nothing can exceed our
glory, but if we are defeated, the risk I run is great.”
His friends wept as they said farewell.
Yen Liang was appointed to the command of the advance guard, to go to
attack Paima. Then Chu Shou first protested, “His mind is too narrow
for such a post. He is brave but unequal to such a trust.”
“You are not the sort of man to measure my best generals,” replied
Shao.
The army marched to Liyang and the Prefect sent an urgent call to
Hsüchʻang for aid. Tsʻao moved his armies hastily. As soon as the news
of battle got about Kuan Yü went to see the Minister and asked that he
might go with the first body.
“I scarcely dare put you to such inconvenience, but presently, if need
arises, I will call upon you.”
So Kuan Yü retired and fifteen legions marched out in three directions.
On the road the letters from Liu Yen arrived praying for help and the
first five legions went to Paima and took up a position supported by
the hills. In the wide plains in front of them Yen Liang was encamped
with ten legions of veterans.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was frightened at the force opposed to him and, returning
to camp, spoke to Sung Hsien, who had once served under Lü Pu, saying,
“You are one of Lü Pu’s famous veteran generals; can you give battle to
this Yen?”
Sung Hsien agreed to try. He armed himself, mounted and rode to the
front. Yen Liang was there on horseback his sword lying crossways.
Seeing an opponent approaching he uttered a loud shout and galloped
toward him. The two met, but after only three bouts, Sung Hsien fell
under a mighty slash from the other’s sword.
“What a terrible leader!” said Tsʻao.
“He has slain my comrade, I want to go and avenge him,” then cried Wei
Hsü.
Tsʻao bade him go and he rode out, spear in rest, and in front of the
army railed at Yen Liang.
Yen Liang replied not a word, but their two steeds came together and at
the first blow from Yen’s sword this second champion fell.
“Now, who again dares face him?” cried Tsʻao.
Hsü Huang took up the challenge and he went out. The combat endured a
score of bouts and then Hsü fled back to his own side. The other
captains were now greatly depressed at their failure. Yen Liang however
had marched off his men leaving Tsʻao very sad at the loss of two
captains in quick succession.
Then Chʻêng Yü went to see him saying, “I can produce a man the equal
of Yen Liang.”
“Who?” cried Tsʻao.
“No other than Kuan Yü.”
“I am afraid that if he is given an opportunity to perform that return
service he spoke of he will leave me.”
“If Liu Pei is still alive he is with Yüan Shao. If you get Kuan Yü to
defeat Yüan Shao’s army Shao will look askance at Liu Pei and put him
to death. Liu Pei gone, where can Kuan Yü go?”
This argument appealed to Tsʻao Tsʻao at once and he sent to request
Kuan Yü to come.
Previous to obeying the call Kuan went to say farewell to his
sisters-in-law.
“You may get news of the Uncle on the journey,” said they.
“Yes,” said Kuan and left them.
Armed with his famous Black Dragon, riding on the swift steed “Red
Hare,” and having but a slender following, Kuan Yü was not long in
arriving at Paima. He saw Tsʻao Tsʻao, who told him what had happened.
Yen Liang was too valiant for any to face.
“Let me look at him,” said Kuan.
Then wine was served for his refreshment and while they were drinking,
it was reported that Yen Liang once again offered a challenge. So Tsʻao
and his guest and staff went to the summit of a hill whence the enemy
could be seen. These two sat on the hill top and the captains stood
about them. Tsʻao pointed out Yen Liang’s men arrayed on the plains
below. The ensigns and banners waving fresh and bright amid the forest
of spears and swords made a grand and imposing spectacle.
“See what fine fellows these northmen are,” said Tsʻao.
“I regard them as so many clay fowls and mud dogs,” said Kuan.
Tsʻao Tsʻao pointed out Yen Liang, saying, “There he is under that
umbrella.”
He was wearing an embroidered robe and a silver breastplate and rode on
horseback. His hand gripped his sword.
“His head looks as though it was stuck on a pole for sale,” said Kuan,
just glancing over the army at his feet.
“You must not despise him,” said Tsʻao.
Kuan rose, saying, “I am a poor thing but I will go over and bring you
his head if you like.”
“Joking is not allowed in this army,” interposed Chang Liao. “Be
careful what you say.”
Kuan Yü quickly mounted, turned down his mighty weapon and galloped
down the hill, his phoenix eyes rounded and his heavy eyebrows fiercely
bristling. He dashed straight into the enemy’s array and the northmen
opened like water before him, a wave spreading right and left. He made
directly for the general.
Now Yen Liang sitting there in state saw a horseman rushing toward him
and just as he began to ask who the rider of the red horse was, lo! the
horseman was there. Taken utterly by surprise the leader could make no
defence. Kuan’s arm rose and the mighty weapon fell. And with it fell
Yen Liang.
Leaping from the saddle Kuan Yü cut off his victim’s head and hung it
to his horse’s neck. Then he mounted and rode out, just as if there was
no army there.
The northern men, panic stricken, made no fight. Tsʻao’s army attacked
with vigour and slew great numbers of them. They captured many horses
and weapons and much military gear. Kuan Yü rode quickly back up the
hill and laid the proof of his prowess at the feet of the Minister.
“You are more than human, General!” cried Tsʻao.
“What have I done to talk about?” said Kuan. “My brother, Chang I-tê,
did the same thing in an army of a hundred legions, and did it easily.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao marvelled at the statement and turning to those about him
said, “If you meet this brother be careful.” And he bade them make a
note on the overlap of their robes so that they should remember.
The beaten army returning northward met Yüan Shao on the road and told
their story. “A red-faced warrior with a long beard, wielding a huge
sword, broke into the army, cut off the general’s head and bore it
off,” said they.
“Who was this?” asked Shao.
Chu Shou said, “It must have been Liu Yüan-tê’s brother; it could be
nobody else.”
Yüan Shao was very angry and, pointing to Liu Pei, he said, “Your
brother has slain my beloved leader. You are in the plot too. Why
should I save you alive?”
He bade the lictors take him away and behead him.
Morning saw him guest on high,
Evening, prisoner, doomed to die.
His actual fate will be told in the next chapter.