YÜAN-TÊ MEETS A RECLUSE AT NANCHANG:
TAN FU MEETS A NOBLE LORD AT HSINYEH.
Just as Tsʻai Mao was going into the city he met Chao Yün and his three
hundred coming out. It had happened that, while at the banquet, Chao
Yün had noticed some movement of men and horses and had at once gone to
the banquet-hall to see if all was well with his lord. Missing him from
his place he had become anxious and gone to the guest-house. There he
heard that Tsʻai Mao had gone off to the west gate with troops. So he
quickly took his spear, mounted and went, he and the escort, in hot
haste along the same road. Meeting Tsʻai Mao near the gate he said,
“Where is my lord?”
“He left the banquet-hall quite suddenly and I know not whither he has
gone,” was the reply.
Now Chao Yün was cautious and careful and had no desire to act hastily,
so he urged his horse forward till he came to the river. There he was
checked by a torrent without ford or bridge. At once he turned back and
shouted after Tsʻai Mao, “You invited my lord to a feast; what means
this going after him with a squadron of horse?”
Mao replied, “It is my duty to guard the officials who have assembled
here as I am the chief captain.”
“Whither have you driven my lord?” asked Chao.
“They tell me he rode quite alone out through the west gate, but I have
not seen him.”
Chao Yün was anxious and doubtful. Again he rode to the river and
looked around. This time he noticed a wet track on the farther side. He
thought to himself that it was almost an impossible crossing for a man
and a horse, so he ordered his men to scatter and search. But they also
could find no trace of Liu Pei.
Chao Yün turned again to the city. By the time he had reached the wall
Tsʻai Mao had gone within. He then questioned the gate wardens, and
they all agreed in saying that Liu Pei had ridden out at full gallop.
That was all they knew. Fearing to re-enter the city lest he should
fall into an ambush, Chao started for Hsinyeh.
After that marvellous life-saving leap over the torrent, Yüan-tê felt
elated but rather dazed. He could not help feeling that his safety was
due to an especial interposition of Providence. Following a tortuous
path, he urged his steed toward Nanchang. But the sun sank to the west
and his destination seemed yet a long way off. Then he saw a young
cowherd seated on the back of a buffalo and playing on a short pipe.
“If I were only as happy!” sighed Yüan-tê.
He checked his horse and looked at the lad, who stopped his beast,
ceased playing on the pipe and stared fixedly at the stranger.
“You must be Yüan-tê, the General who fought the Yellow Turbans,” said
the boy presently.
Yüan-tê was taken aback.
“How can you know my name, a young rustic like you living in such a
secluded place?” said he.
“Of course I do not know you, but my master often has visitors and they
all talk about Yüan-tê, the tall man whose hands hang down below his
knees and whose eyes are very prominent. They say he is the most famous
man of the day. Now you, General, are just such a man as they talk
about, and surely you are he.”
“Well, who is your master?”
“My master’s name is Ssŭma, a compound surname, and his ming is Hui;
his other name is Tê-tsʻao. He belongs to Yingchou and his Taoist
appellation is Shui-ching, ‘The Water-mirror.’”
“Who are your master’s friends that you mentioned?”
“They are Pʻang Tê-kung and Pʻang Tʻung of Hsiangyang.”
“And who are they?”
“Relatives. Pʻang Tê-kung is ten years older than my master; the other
is five years younger. One day my master was up in a tree picking
mulberries when Pʻang Tʻung arrived. They began to talk and kept it up
all day, my master did not come down till the evening. My master is
very fond of Pʻang Tʻung and calls him brother.”
“And where does your master live?”
“In that wood there, in front,” said the cowherd pointing to it. “There
he has a farmstead.”
“I really am Liu Yüan-tê and you might lead me to your master that I
may salute him.”
The cowherd led the way for about two li, when Liu Pei found himself in
front of a farm house. He dismounted and went to the centre door.
Suddenly came to his ear the sound of a lute most skilfully played and
the air was extremely beautiful. He stopped his guide and would not
allow him to announce a visitor, but stood there rapt by the melody.
Suddenly the music ceased. He heard a deep laugh and a man appeared,
saying, “Amidst the clear and subtle sounds of the lute there suddenly
rang out a high note as though some noble man was near.”
“That is my master,” said the lad pointing.
Liu Pei saw before him a tall figure, slender and straight as a pine
tree, a very “chosen vessel.” Hastening forward he saluted. The skirt
of his robe was still wet from the river.
“You have escaped from a grave danger to-day, Sir,” said
“Water-mirror.”
Yüan-tê was startled into silence, and the cowherd said to his master,
“This is Liu Yüan-tê.”
“Water-mirror” asked him to enter and when they were seated in their
relative positions as host and guest, Yüan-tê glanced round the room.
Upon the bookshelves were piled books and manuscripts. The window
opened upon an exquisite picture of pines and bamboos and a lute lay
upon a stone couch. The room showed refinement in its last degree.
“Whence come you, illustrious Sir?” asked the host.
“By chance I was passing this way and the lad pointed you out to me. So
I came to bow in your honoured presence. I cannot tell what pleasure it
gives me.”
“Water-mirror” laughed. “Why this mystery? Why must you conceal the
truth? You have certainly just escaped from a grave danger.”
Then the story of the banquet and the flight was told.
“I knew it all from your appearance,” said his host. “Your name has
long been familiar,” continued he, “but whence comes it that, up to the
present, you are only a homeless devil?”
“I have suffered many a check during my life,” said Liu Pei, “and
through one of them am I here now.”
“It should not be so; but the reason is that you still lack the one man
to aid you.”
“I am simple enough in myself, I know; but I have Sun Chʻien, Mi Chu
and Chien Yung on the civil side, and for warriors I have Kuan Yü,
Chang Fei and Chao Yün. These are all most loyal helpers and I depend
upon them not a little.”
“Your fighting men are good: fit to oppose a legion. The pity is you
have no really able adviser. Your civilians are but pallid students of
books, not men fitted to weave and control destiny.”
“I have always yearned to find one of those marvellous recluses who
live among the hills till their day arrive. So far I have sought in
vain.”
“You know what the Master said, ‘In a hamlet of ten households there
must be one true man.’ Can you say there is no man?”
“I am simple and uninstructed; I pray you enlighten me.”
“You have heard what the street boys sing:—
In eight and nine begins decay,
Four years, then comes the fateful day,
When destiny will show the way,
And the dragon flies out of the mire O!
This song was first heard when the new reign-style was adopted. The
first line was fulfilled when Liu Piao lost his first wife, and when
his family troubles began. The next line relates to the approaching
death of Liu Piao and there is not a single man among all his crowd of
officers who has the least ability. The last two lines will be
fulfilled in you, General.”
Yüan-tê started up in surprise, crying, “How could such a thing be?”
“Water-mirror” continued, “At this moment the marvellously clever ones
of all the earth are all here and you, Sir, ought to seek them.”
“Where are they? Who are they?” said Yüan-tê quickly.
“If you could find either Fu-lung (Hidden Dragon) or Fêng-chʻu (Phoenix
Fledgeling), you could restore order in the Empire.”
“But who are these men?”
His host clapped his hands, smiled and said, “Good; very good.”
When Yüan-tê persisted and pressed home his questions “Water-mirror”
said, “It is getting late. You might stay the night here, General, and
we will talk over these things to-morrow.”
He called to a lad to bring wine and food for his guest and his horse
was taken to the stable and fed. After Yüan-tê had eaten he was shown
to a chamber opening off the main room and went to bed. But the words
of his host would not be banished and he lay there only dozing till far
into the night.
Suddenly he became fully awake at the sound of a knock at the door and
a person entering. And he heard his host say “Where are you from,
Yüan-chih?”
Liu Pei rose from his couch and listened secretly. He heard the man
reply, “It has long been said that Liu Piao treated good men as good
men should be treated and bad men as they should be treated. So I went
to see for myself. But that reputation is undeserved. He does treat
good men correctly but he cannot use them, and he treats wicked men in
the right way, all but dismissing them. So I left a letter for him and
came away; and here I am.”
“Water-mirror” replied, “You, capable enough to be the adviser of a
king, ought to be able to find some one fit to serve. Why did you
cheapen yourself so far as to go to Liu Piao? Beside there is a real
hero right under your eyes and you do not know him.”
“It is just as you say,” replied the stranger.
Liu Pei listened with great joy for he thought this visitor was
certainly one of the two he was advised to look for. He would have
shown himself then and there, but he thought that would look strange.
So he waited till daylight, when he sought out his host and said, “Who
was it came last night?”
“A friend of mine,” was the reply.
Yüan-tê begged for an introduction. “Water-mirror” said, “He wants to
find an enlightened master and so he has gone elsewhere.”
When the guest asked his name his host only replied, “Good, good.” And
when he asked who they were who went by the names of Fu-lung and
Fêng-chʻu he only elicited the same reply.
Yüan-tê then, bowing low before his host, begged him to leave the hills
and help him to bring about the restoration of the ruling house to its
prerogatives. But he replied, “Men of the hills and deserts are unequal
to such a task. However, there must be many far abler than I who will
help you if you seek them.”
While they were talking they heard outside the farm the shouts of men
and neighing of horses, and a servant came in to say that a captain
with a large company of men had arrived. Yüan-tê went out hastily to
see who these were and found Chao Yün. He was much relieved and Chao
dismounted and entered the house.
“Last night, on my return to our city,” said Chao, “I could not find my
lord, so I followed at once and traced you here. I pray you return
quickly as I fear an attack on the city.”
So Yüan-tê took leave of his host and the whole company returned to
Hsinyeh. Before they had gone far another troop appeared, and, when
they had come nearer, they saw the two brothers. They met with great
joy and Yüan-tê told them of the wonderful leap his horse had made over
the torrent. All expressed surprise and pleasure.
As soon as they reached the city a council was called and Chao Yün
said, “You ought first of all to indite a letter to Liu Piao telling
him all these things.”
The letter was prepared and Sun Chʻien bore it to the seat of
government. He was received, and Liu Piao at once asked the reason of
Yüan-tê’s hasty flight from the festival. Whereupon the letter was
presented and the bearer related the machinations of Tsʻai Mao and told
of the escape and the amazing leap over the torrent. Liu Piao was very
angry, sent for Tsʻai Mao and berated him soundly, saying, “How dare
you try to hurt my brother?” and he ordered him out to execution.
Liu Piao’s wife, Tsʻai Mao’s sister, prayed for a remission of the
death penalty, but Liu Piao refused to be appeased. Then spoke Sun
Chʻien, saying, “If you put Tsʻai to death, I fear Uncle Liu will be
unable to remain here.”
Then he was reprieved, but dismissed with a severe reprimand.
Liu Piao sent his elder son back with Sun Chʻien to apologise. When
Chʻi reached Hsinyeh, Yüan-tê welcomed him and gave a banquet in his
honour. After some little drinking, the chief guest suddenly began to
weep and presently said, “My stepmother always cherishes a wish to put
me out of the way, and I do not know how to avoid her anger. Could you
advise me, Uncle?”
Yüan-tê exhorted him to be careful and perfectly filial and nothing
could happen. Soon after the young man took his leave, and wept at
parting. Yüan-tê escorted him well on his way and, pointing to his
steed, said, “I owe my life to this horse: had it not been for him I
had been already below the Springs.”
“It was not the strength of the horse, but your noble fortune, Uncle.”
They parted, the young man weeping bitterly. On re-entering the city
Yüan-tê met a person in the street wearing a hempen turban, a cotton
robe confined by a black girdle, and black shoes. He came along singing
a song.
The universe is riven, alack! now nears the end of all,
The noble mansion quakes, alack! what beam can stay the fall?
A wise one waits his lord, alack! but hidden in the glen,
The seeker knows not him, alack! nor me, of common men.
Yüan-tê listened. “Surely this is one of the men ‘Water-mirror’ spoke
of,” thought he.
He dismounted, spoke to the singer and invited him into his residence.
Then when they were seated he asked the stranger’s name.
“I am from Yingshang and my name is Tan Fu. I have known you by repute
for a long time and they said you appreciated men of ability. I wanted
to come to you but every way of getting an introduction seemed closed.
So I bethought me of attracting your notice by singing that song in the
market place.”
Yüan-tê thought he had found a treasure and treated the newcomer with
the greatest kindness. Then Tan Fu spoke of the horse that he had seen
Yüan-tê riding and asked to look at him. So the animal was brought
round.
“Is not this a tilu?” said Tan Fu. “But though he is a good steed he
risks his master. You must not ride him.”
“He has already fulfilled the omens,” said Yüan-tê, and he related the
story of the leap over the torrent.
“But this was saving his master, not risking him; he will surely harm
some one in the end. But I can tell you how to avert the omen.”
“I should be glad to hear it,” said Yüan-tê.
“If you have an enemy against whom you bear a grudge, give him this
horse and wait till he has fulfilled the evil omens on this man: then
you can ride him in safety.”
Yüan-tê changed colour. “What, Sir! You are but a new acquaintance and
you would advise me to take an evil course and to harm another for my
own advantage? No, Sir! I cannot listen.”
His guest smiled. “People said you were virtuous. I could not ask you
directly, so I put it that way to test you.”
Yüan-tê’s expression changed. He rose and returned the compliment,
saying, “But how can I be virtuous while I lack your teaching?”
“When I came here, I heard the people saying:
Since Liu came here, O blessed day!
We’ve had good luck: long may he stay!
So you see the effects of your virtue extend to the ordinary people.”
Thereupon Tan Fu was made Organiser in Chief of the army.
The one idea that held Tsʻao Tsʻao after his return from Chʻichou was
the capture of Chingchou. He sent Tsʻao Jên and Li Tien, with the two
brothers Lü who had surrendered, to camp at Fanchʻêng with three
legions and so threaten Chingchou and Hsiangyang. Thence he sent spies
to find out the weak points.
Then the two Lüs petitioned Tsʻao Jên saying, “Liu Pei is strengthening
his position at Hsinyeh and laying in large supplies. Some great scheme
is afoot and he should be checked. Since our surrender we have
performed no noteworthy service and, if you will give us half a legion,
we promise to bring you the head of Liu Pei.”
Tsʻao Jên was only too glad, and the expedition set out. The scouts
reported this to Yüan-tê who turned to Tan Fu for advice.
Tan Fu said, “They must not be permitted to cross the boundary. Send
your two brothers right and left, one to attack the enemy on the march,
the other to cut off the retreat. You and Chao Yün will make a front
attack.”
The two brothers started and then Yüan-tê went out at the gate with
three companies to oppose the enemy. Before they had gone far they saw
a great cloud of dust behind the hills. This marked the approach of the
brothers Lü. Presently, both sides being arrayed, Yüan-tê rode out and
stood by his standard. He called out, “Who are you who thus would
encroach on my territory?”
“I am the great general Lü Kʻuang, and I have the orders of the
minister to make you prisoner,” said the leader.
Yüan-tê ordered Chao Yün to go out, and the two captains engaged. Very
soon Chao had disposed of his opponent and Yüan-tê gave the signal to
attack. Lü Hsiang could not maintain his position and led his men off.
Soon his men found themselves attacked by an army rushing in from the
side led by Kuan Yü. The loss was more than a half and the remainder
fled for safety.
About ten li farther on they found their retreat barred by an army
under Chang Fei, who stood in the way with a long spear ready to
thrust. Crying out who he was, he bore down upon Lü Hsiang, who was
slain without a chance of striking a blow. The men again fled in
disorder. They were pursued by Yüan-tê and the greater part killed or
captured.
Then Yüan-tê returned into his own city where he rewarded Tan Fu and
feasted his victorious soldiers. Some of the defeated men took the news
of the deaths of the leaders and the capture of their comrades to Tsʻao
Jên.
Tsʻao Jên, much distressed, consulted his colleague who advised staying
where they were and holding on till reinforcements could arrive.
“Not so,” said Tsʻao Jên. “We cannot support calmly the death of two
leaders and the loss of so many men. We must avenge them quickly.
Hsinyeh is but a crossbow slug of a place and not worth disturbing the
Minister for.”
“Liu Pei is a man of metal,” said Li Tien. “Do not esteem him lightly.”
“What are you afraid of?” said Jên.
“The Rule of War says ‘To know your enemy and yourself is the secret of
victory,’” replied Tien. “I am not afraid of the battle, but I do not
think we can conquer.”
“You are a traitor!” cried Jên angrily. “Then I will capture Liu Pei
myself.”
“Do so; and I will guard this city,” said Tien.
“If you do not go with me, it is a proof that you are a traitor,”
retorted Tsʻao Jên.
At this reproach, Li Tien felt constrained to join the expedition. So
they told off two and a half legions with which they crossed the river
for Hsinyeh.
The officers all keenly felt the shame of many slain,
The Chief determines on revenge and marches out again.
What measure of success the expedition met with will be related in the
next chapter.