PLAN FOR THREE KINGDOMS:
THE SUNS AVENGE THEMSELVES.
Nothing discouraged by two unsuccessful visits to the retreat of the
sage whose advice he sought to secure, Liu Pei made preparations for a
third visit. His brothers disapproved, and Kuan Yü said, “Brother, you
have sought him twice, surely this is showing even too much deference.
I do not believe in this fame of his for learning; he is avoiding you
and dare not submit to the test. Why so obstinately hold this idea?”
“You are wrong, my brother. Duke Huan of Chʻi paid five visits to the
‘Hermit of the Eastern Suburb’ before he got to see his face. And my
desire to see the sage is even greater than his.”
“I think you are mistaken,” said Chang Fei. “How can this villager be
such a marvel of wisdom? You should not go again and, if he will not
come, I will bring him with a hempen rope.”
“Have you forgotten the great Prince Wên’s visit to Chiang Tzŭ-ya, the
old man of the Eastern Sea? If he could show such deference to a wise
man, where am I too deferential? If you will not go, your brother and I
will go without you,” said Yüan-tê.
“If you two go, how can I hang back?” said Chang Fei.
“If you go, then you must be polite.”
Fei said he would not forget himself, and the three set out. When they
were half a li from the little cottage, Yüan-tê dismounted, deciding to
show his respect by approaching the house on foot. Very soon he met
Chuko Chün, whom he saluted with great deference, enquiring whether his
brother was at home.
“He returned last evening; you can see him to-day, General.”
As he said this he went off with some swagger.
“Fortune favours me this time,” said Yüan-tê, “I am going to see the
master.”
“That was a rude fellow”, said Fei, “it would not have hurt him to have
conducted us to the house. Why did he go off like that?”
“Each one has his own affairs,” said his brother. “What power have we
over him?”
Soon the three stood at the door and they knocked. The serving lad came
out and asked their business and Yüan-tê said very deferentially, “I
would trouble the servant of the genius, gentle page, to inform the
Master that Liu Pei wishes to pay his respects to him.”
“My Master is at home, but he is asleep.”
“In that case do not announce me.”
He bade his two brothers wait at the door quietly and he himself
entered with careful steps. There was the man he sought, lying asleep
on the couch, stretched on a simple mat. Yüan-tê saluted him with
joined hands at a respectful distance.
The time passed and still the sleeper did not wake. The two brothers
left without, beginning to feel impatient, also came in and Chang Fei
was annoyed at seeing his revered elder brother respectfully standing
by while another slept.
“What an arrogant fellow is this Master?” said he. “There is our
brother waiting, while he sleeps on perfectly carelessly. I will go to
the back of the place and let off a bomb and see if that will rouse
him.”
“No, no; you must do nothing of the kind,” whispered Kuan Yü, and then
Yüan-tê told them to go out again.
Just then he noticed that the Master moved. He turned over as though
about to rise, but, instead, he faced the wall and again fell asleep.
The serving lad made as if he would rouse his master, but Yüan-tê
forbade him to be disturbed and he waited yet another weary hour. Then
Kʻung-ming woke up repeating to himself the lines:—
“Can any know what fate is his?
Yet have I felt throughout my life,
The day would come at last to quit
The calm retreat for toil and strife.”
As he finished he turned to the lad saying, “Have any of the usual
people come?”
“Liu, the Uncle of the Emperor is here,” said the boy. “He has been
waiting some time.”
“Why did you not tell me?” said he, rising from the couch. “I must
dress.”
He rose and turned into a room behind to dress. In a short time he
re-appeared, his clothing properly arranged, to receive his visitor.
Then Yüan-tê saw coming toward him a man rather below medium height
with a refined face. He wore a head-wrap and a long crane-white gown.
He moved with much dignity as though he was rather more than mortal.
Yüan-tê bowed saying, “I am one of the offshoots of the Han family, a
simple person from Cho. I have long known the Master’s fame, which has
indeed thundered in my ear. Twice I have come to visit you, without
success. Once I left my name on your writing table; you may have my
note.”
Kʻung-ming replied, “This hermit is but a dilatory person by
temperament. I know I have to thank you for more than one vain visit
and I am ashamed to think of them.”
These courteous remarks and the proper bows exchanged, the two men sat
in their relative positions as host and guest and the serving lad
brought tea. Then Kʻung-ming said, “From your letter I know that you
grieve for both people and government. If I were not so young and if I
possessed any talent, I would venture to question you.”
Yüan-tê replied, “Ssŭma Hui and Hsü Shu have both spoken of you; can it
be that their words were vain? I trust, O Master, that you will not
despise my worthlessness but will condescend to instruct me.”
“The two men you speak of are very profound scholars. I am but a
peasant, a mere farmer, and who am I that I should talk of Empire
politics? Those two misled you when they spoke of me. Why do you reject
the beautiful jewel for a worthless pebble?”
“But your abilities are world embracing and marvellous. How can you be
content to allow time to pass while you idle away life in these
secluded haunts? I conjure you, O Master, to remember the inhabitants
of the world and remove my crass ignorance by bestowing instruction
upon me.”
“But what is your ambition, General?”
Yüan-tê moved his seat nearer to his host and said, “The Hans are
sinking; designing ministers steal away their authority. I am weak, yet
I desire to restore the State to its right mind. But my ignorance is
too vast, my means are too slender and I know not where to turn. Only
you, Master, can lighten my darkness and preserve me from falling. How
happy should I be if you would do so!”
Kʻung-ming replied, “One bold man after another has arisen in various
parts of the Empire ever since the days of the great rebel Tung Cho.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was not so powerful as Yüan Shao, but he overcame him by
seizing the favourable moment and using his men properly. Now he is
all-powerful; he rules an immense army and, through his control of the
Court, the various feudal lords as well. You cannot think of opposing
him. Then the Suns have held their territory in Chiangtung for three
generations. Their position may not appear too secure, but they have
popularity to appeal to. You can gain support but win no success there.
Chingchou on the north rests on the two rivers Han and Mien; their
interests lie in all to the south of them; on the east they touch Wu
and on the west they extend to the ancient states Pa and Shu. This is
the area in which decisive battles have to be won and one must hold it
in order to be secure and Heaven has virtually made it yours. Yichou is
an important place, fertile and extensive, a country favoured of Heaven
and that through which the Founder of Han obtained the Empire. Its
ruler Liu Chang is ignorant and weak. The people are noble and the
country prosperous, but he does not know how to hold it all, and all
the able men of the district are yearning for an enlightened prince. As
you are a scion of the Family, well known throughout the land as trusty
and righteous, a whole-hearted hero, who greatly desires to win the
support of the wise, if you get possession of Yi and Ching, if on the
west you are in harmony with the Jung tribes, on the south win over I
and Yüeh, make an alliance with Sun Chʻüan, and maintain good
government, you can await confidently the day when heaven shall offer
you the desired opportunity. Then you may depute a worthy leader to go
to the north-east while you take command of an expedition to the
north-west, and will you not find the warmest welcome prepared for you
by the people? This done the completion of the task will be easy. The
Hans will be restored. And I will be your adviser in all these
operations if you will only undertake them.”
He paused while he bade the lad bring out a map. As this was unrolled
Kʻung-ming went on, “There you see the fifty four divisions of
Ssŭchʻuan. Should you wish to take the overlordship you will yield to
Tsʻao Tsʻao in the north till the time of Heaven be come, to Sun Chʻüan
in the south till the position may become favourable. You, General,
will be the Man and complete the trinity. Chingchou is to be taken
first as a home, the west next for the foundation of domination. When
you are firmly established you can lay your plans for the attainment of
the whole Empire.”
As Kʻung-ming ceased his harangue, Yüan-tê left his place and saluted
him, saying, “Your words, O Master, render everything so clear that
meseems the clouds are swept aside and I see the clear sky. But
Chingchou belongs to Liu Piao, my kinsman, and Yichou to another
kinsman; I could hardly take the land from them.”
“I have studied the stars and I know Liu Piao is not long for this
world; the other is not the sort of man to endure. Both places will
certainly fall to you.”
Yüan-tê bowed his acknowledgments. And so, in one conversation,
Kʻung-ming proved that he, who had lived in complete retirement all his
life, knew and foresaw the three fragments into which the Empire was to
break. True, indeed, is it that throughout all the ages no one has ever
equalled his intelligence and mastery of the situation.
Behold, when Liu Pei frets that he is weak,
Then “Sleeping Dragon” is not far to seek;
When he desires to know how things will hap,
The Master, smiling, shows him on the map.
“Though I be of small repute and scanty virtue,” said Yüan-tê, “I hope,
O Master, you will not despise me for my worthlessness, but will leave
this retreat to help me. I will assuredly listen most reverently to
your words.”
Kʻung-ming replied, “I have long been happy on my farm and am fond of
my leisure. I fear I cannot obey your command.”
Yüan-tê wept. “If you will not, O Master, what will become of the
people?”
The tears rolled down unchecked upon the lapel and sleeves of his robe.
This proved to Kʻung-ming the sincerity of his desire and he said,
“General if you will accept me, I will render what trifling service I
can.”
Then Yüan-tê was delighted. He called in Kuan and Chang to make their
bow and brought out the gifts he had prepared. Kʻung-ming refused them
all.
“These are not gifts to engage your services, but mere proof of my
regard,” said Yüan-tê.
Then the presents were accepted. They all remained that night at the
farm. Next day Chuko Chün returned and his brother said to him, “Uncle
Liu has come thrice to see me and now I must go with him. Keep up the
farm in my absence and do not let the place go to ruin for, as soon as
my work is accomplished, I will certainly return.”
Then, turning from his humble home,
He thought of peaceful days to come,
When he should take the homeward way
And ne’er beyond the valley stray.
But duty kept him in the west,
And there he found his place of rest.
An old poem may be quoted here:—
The Founder of Han seized his gleaming blade
And at Mangtang the blood of the white snake flowed.
He conquered Tsʻin, destroyed Chʻu and entered Hsienyang.
After two centuries of rule the line was near broken,
But Kuang-Wu, the great, restored the glory at Loyang.
And his children occupied the throne
Till decay began in the days of Huan and Ling.
The Emperor Ling removed the capital to Hsüchʻang,
And, within the four seas, all was confusion.
Bold spirits started up in fierce contention.
Tsʻao Tsʻao, seized the favourable moment
And the Imperial authority passed into his hands,
While the Suns made to themselves
A glorious heritage east of the river,
Solitary and poor, Liu Pei wandered from place to place,
Till he found a haven in Hsinyeh.
Sorely distressed he was at the sorrows of the people,
But the Sleeping Dragon conceived a noble ambition,
Within his breast were thoughts
Of great things to be accomplished by force of arms.
Then, because of the parting words of Hsü Shu,
And by the thrice repeated visits to his retreat,
The great hero found and knew his mentor.
When the age of Kʻung-ming was but thrice nine years,
He turned from his books, put aside his lute
And left the peaceful fields he had loved,
Under his guidance Chingchou was taken
And the Land of the Four Streams conquered.
He unrolled great schemes, as one all knowing,
In speech, he went to and fro in the world.
The sound of war drums rolled from his tongue,
The words from his heart stirred one to the utmost depths,
The dragon pranced, the tiger glared,
And peace was brought to the world.
Through all the ages his fame shall never decay.
After taking leave of the younger brother, Yüan-tê and his followers
left for Hsinyeh, with Kʻung-ming as companion. When they took up their
abode there, Kʻung-ming was treated as a master, eating at the same
table, sleeping on the same couch as Liu Pei. They spent whole days
conversing over the affairs of the Empire.
Kʻung-ming said, “Tsʻao Tsʻao is training his men for naval service and
hence certainly intends to invade the country south of the river. We
ought to send our spies to ascertain what he is really doing.”
So spies were despatched.
Now after Sun Chʻüan had succeeded to the heritage of his father and
brother he sent far and wide to invite men of ability to aid him. He
established lodging places for them in Wu, and directed Ku Yung and
Chang Hung to welcome and entertain all those who came. And year by
year they flocked in, one recommending another. Among them were Kʻan
Tsê, of Kueichi; Yen Chün, of Pʻêngchʻêng; Hsüeh Tsung, of Pʻeihsien;
Chʻêng Ping, of Junan; Chu Huan, of Wuchün; Lu Chi, of the same place;
Chang Wên, of Wu; Ling Tʻung, of Kueichi and Wu Tsʻan of Wuchʻêng; and
all these scholars were treated with great deference.
Some able leaders came also, Lü Mêng, of Junan; Lu Hsün, of Wuchün; Hsü
Shêng, of Langya; Pʻan Chang, of Tungchün and Ting Fêng of Luchiang.
Thus Sun Chʻüan obtained the assistance of many men of ability both in
peace and war and all went well with him.
In the seventh year of “Established Tranquillity” Tsʻao Tsʻao had
broken the power of Yüan Shao. Then he sent a messenger to Chiangtung
ordering Sun Chʻüan to send his son to court to serve in the retinue of
the Emperor. Sun, however, hesitated to comply with this request and
the matter was the subject of much discussion. His mother, the lady Wu,
sent for Chou Yü and Chang Chao and asked their advice.
The latter said, “He wishes a son to be present at court as a hostage
whereby he has a hold upon us, as formerly was the case with all the
feudal chiefs. If we do not comply with this request he will doubtless
attack the territory. There is some peril.”
Chou Yü said, “Our lord has succeeded to the heritage and has a large
army of veterans and ample supplies. He has able men ready to do his
bidding, and why should he be compelled to send a hostage to any man?
To send a hostage is to be forced into joining Tsʻao, and to carry out
his behests, whatever they be. Then we shall be in his power. It would
be better not to send, but rather to wait patiently the course of
events and prepare plans to attack.”
“That is also my opinion,” said the Dowager.
So Sun Chʻüan dismissed the messenger but did not send his son. Tsʻao
Tsʻao resented this and had since nourished schemes for the destruction
of the Suns. But their realisation had been delayed by the dangers on
the north and, so far, no attack had been made.
Late in the eighth year, Sun Chʻüan led his armies against Huang Tsu
and fought on the Great River, where he was successful in several
battles. One of Sun’s leaders, Ling Tsʻao, led a fleet of light vessels
up the river and broke into Hsiakʻou but was killed by an arrow. He
left a son, Ling Tʻung, fifteen years of age, who led another
expedition to recover his father’s corpse and was so far successful.
After that, as the war was inclined to go against him, Sun Chʻüan
turned again to his own country.
Now Sun Chʻüan’s brother, Sun I, was Prefect of Tanyang. He was a hard
man and given to drink and, in his cups, very harsh to his men,
ordering the infliction of severe floggings. Two of his officers, Kuei
Lan and Tai Yüan, bore their chief a grudge and sought to assassinate
him. They took into their confidence one Pien Hung, of the escort, and
the three plotted to kill their master at a great assembly of officials
at Tanyang amid the banquets and junketings.
Sun’s wife was skilled in divination and on the day of the great
banquet she cast a most inauspicious lot. Wherefore she besought her
husband to stay away from the assembly. But he was obstinate and went.
The faithless guardsman followed his master in the dusk when the
gathering dispersed, and stabbed him with a dagger. The two prime
movers at once seized their accomplice and beheaded him in the market
place. Then they went to Sun’s residence, which they plundered. Kuei
Lan was taken with the beauty of the dead Prefect’s wife and told her
that as he had avenged the death of her husband she must go with him,
or he would slay her. The wife pleaded that it was too soon after her
husband’s death to think of re-marriage but promised to be his after
the mourning sacrifices.
She thus obtained a respite, which she utilised to send for two old
Generals of her husband’s, Sun Kao and Fu Ying. They came and she
tearfully told her tale.
“My husband had great faith in you. Now Kuei and Tai have compassed his
death, and have laid the crime on Pien Hung. They have plundered my
house and carried off my servants and slaves. Worse than this, Kuei Lan
insists that I shall be his wife. To gain time I have pretended to
favour this proposal and I pray you now to send the news to my
husband’s brother and beg him to slay these two miscreants and avenge
this wrong. I will never forget your kindness in this life or the
next.”
And she bowed before them. They wept also and said, “We were much
attached to our master and now that he has come to an untimely end we
must avenge him. Dare we not carry out your behests?”
So they sent a trusty messenger. On the day of the sacrifices the lady
called in her two friends and hid them in a secret chamber. Then the
ceremonies were performed in the great hall. These over, she put off
her mourning garb, bathed and perfumed herself, and assumed an
expression of joy. She laughed and talked as usual, so that Kuei Lan
rejoiced in his heart, thinking of the pleasure that was to be his.
When night came she sent a slave girl to call her suitor to the Palace,
where she entertained him at supper. When he had well drunk, she
suggested that they should retire and led him to the chamber where her
friends were waiting. He followed without the least hesitation. As soon
as she entered the room she called out, “Where are you, Generals?” Out
rushed the two men, and the drunken man, incapable of any resistance,
was despatched with daggers.
Next she invited Tai Yüan to a supper and he was slain in similar
fashion. After that she sent to the houses of her enemies and slew all
therein. This done, she resumed her mourning garb and the heads of the
two men were hung as a sacrifice before the coffin of her husband.
Very soon her brother-in-law came with an army, and hearing the story
of the deeds of the two generals from the widow, gave them office and
put them over Tanyang. When he left he took the widow to his own home
to pass the remainder of her days. All those who heard of her brave
conduct were loud in praise of her virtue:—
Full of resource and virtuous, few in the world are like her.
Guilefully wrought she and compassed the death of the lusty
assassins,
Faithful servants are always ready to deal with rebellion,
None can ever excel that heroine famous in East Wu.
The brigandage that had troubled Wu had all been suppressed and a large
fleet (of seven thousand) keels were in the Yangtse River ready for
service. Sun Chʻüan appointed Chou Yü to be the Admiral-in-Chief.
In the twelfth year (207 A.D.) the Dowager Lady Wu, feeling her end
approaching, called to her the two advisers Chou Yü and Chang Chao and
spoke thus:—“I came of a family of Wu, but losing my parents in early
life, my brother and I went into Yüeh, and then I married into this
family. I bore my husband four sons, not without premonitions of the
greatness to be theirs. With my first, I dreamed of the moon and with
my second, Chʻüan, of the sun, which omens were interpreted by the
soothsayer as signs of their great honour. Unhappy Tsʻê died young, but
Chʻüan inherited and it is he whom I pray you both to assist with one
accord. Then may I die in peace.”
And to her son she said, “These two you are to serve as they were your
masters and treat them with all respect. My sister and I both were
wives to your father, and so she is also a mother to you and you are to
serve her after I am gone as you now serve me. And you must treat your
sister with affection and find a handsome husband for her.”
Then she died and her son mourned for her, but of that and her burial
nothing will be said.
The following year they began to discuss an attack upon Huang Tsu.
Chang Chao said the armies should not move during the period of
mourning; however, Chou Yü, more to the point, said that vengeance
should not be postponed on that account; it could not wait upon times
and seasons. Still Sun Chʻüan halted between two opinions and would not
decide.
Then came Lü Mêng, the Commander of the North, who said to his master,
“While I was at Lungchiushuikʻou one of Huang Tsu’s captains, Kan Ning
by name, offered to surrender. I found out all about him. He is
something of a scholar, is forceful, fond of wandering about as a
knight-errant. He assembled a band of outlaws with whom he roamed over
the rivers and lakes where he would terrorise everybody. He wore a bell
at his waist and at the sound of this bell every one fled and hid. He
fitted his boats with sails of Ssŭchʻuan brocade and people called him
the ‘Pirate with Sails of Silk.’
“Then he reformed. He and his band went to Liu Piao, but they left him
when they saw he would never accomplish anything and now they would
serve under your banner, only that Huang Tsu detains them at Hsiakʻou.
Formerly when you were attacking Huang Tsu, he owed the recovery of
Hsiakʻou to this same Kan Ning, whom he treated with liberality, but
when Su Fei, the Commander-in-Chief, recommended him for promotion,
Huang Tsu said he was unsuited for any high position as, after all, he
was no more than a pirate.
“So Kan Ning became a disappointed and resentful man. Su Fei tried to
win him over to good humour and invited him to wine parties and said,
‘I have put your name forward many times but our chief says he has no
place suitable for you. However, time slips away and man’s life is not
very long. One must make the most of it. I will put you forward for the
magistracy of Ohsien, whence you may be able to advance.’ So Kan Ning
got away from Hsiakʻou and would have come to you then, but he feared
that he would not be welcomed, since he had assisted Huang Tsu and
killed Ling Tsʻao. I told him you were always ready to welcome able men
and would nourish no resentment for former deeds. After all, every man
was bound to do his best for his master. He would come with alacrity if
he only felt sure of a welcome. I pray you to express your pleasure.”
This was good news for Sun Chʻüan and he said, “With his help I could
destroy Huang Tsu.” Then he bade Lü Mêng bring Kan to see him.
When the salutations were over, the chief said, “My heart is entirely
captivated by your coming; I feel no resentment against you. I hope you
will have no doubts on that score and I may as well tell you that I
desire some plan for the destruction of Huang Tsu.”
He replied, “The dynasty is decadent and without influence. Tsʻao Tsʻao
will finally absorb the country down to the river unless he is opposed.
Liu Piao provides nothing against the future and his sons are quite
unfitted to succeed him. You should lay your plans to oust him at once
before Tsʻao Tsʻao anticipates you. The first attack should be made on
Huang Tsu, who is getting old and avaricious, so that every one hates
him. He is totally unprepared for a fight and his army is
undisciplined. He would fall at the first blow. If he were gone, you
would control the western passes and could conquer Pa and Shu
(Szechʻuan). And you would be securely established.”
“The advice is most valuable,” said Sun Chʻüan, and he made his
preparations. Chou Yü was appointed Commander-in-Chief; Lü Mêng was
van-leader; Tung Hsi and Kan Ning were sub-leaders. Sun Chʻüan himself
would command the main army of ten legions.
The spies reported that Huang Tsu, at the news of an expedition against
him, called his officers together to consult. He placed Su Fei in chief
command. He also appointed van-leaders, and other officers, and
prepared for defence. He had two squadrons of ships under the command
of Chʻên Chiu and Têng Lung. On these he placed strong bows and stiff
crossbows to the number of more than a thousand and secured the boats
to heavy hawsers so that they formed a barrier in the river.
At the approach of the men of Wu the drums beat for the ships to
attack. Soon arrows and bolts flew thick, forcing back the invaders,
who withdrew till several li of water lay between them and the
defenders.
“We must go forward,” said Kan Ning to his colleague.
So they chose a hundred light craft and put picked men on them, fifty
to a boat. Twenty were to row the boats and thirty to fight. These
latter were armoured swordsmen. Careless of the enemy’s missiles these
boats advanced, got to the defenders’ fleet and cut the hawsers of
their ships so that they drifted hither and thither in confusion. Kan
Ning leaped upon one boat and killed Têng Lung. Chʻên Chiu left the
fleet and set out for the shore. Lü Mêng dropped into a small boat and
went among the larger ships setting them on fire. When Chʻên Chiu had
nearly reached the bank, Lü reckless of death went after him, got ahead
and struck him full in the breast so that he fell.
Before long Su Fei came along the bank with reinforcements, but it was
too late; the armies of Wu had already landed and there was no hope of
repelling them. Su Fei fled into the open country, but he was made
prisoner. He was taken to Sun Chʻüan who ordered that he be put into a
cage-cart and kept till Huang Tsu should be captured. Then he would
execute the pair. And the attack was pressed; day and night they
wrought to capture Hsiakʻou.
He sees his ships cut loose and burned,
By the “Silk-sailed Pirate” he once spurned.
For Huang Tsu’s fate, see next chapter.