ON THE SEVEN STARS ALTAR CHUKO SACRIFICES TO THE WINDS:
AT THE THREE RIVERS CHOU YÜ LIBERATES FIRE.
In the last chapter Chou Yü was seized with sudden illness as he
watched the fleets of his enemy. He was borne to his tent and his
officers came in multitudes to enquire after him. They looked at each
other saying, “What a pity our general should be taken ill when Tsʻao’s
legions threaten so terribly! What would happen if he attacked?”
Messengers with the evil tidings were sent to Wu while the physicians
did their best for the invalid. Lu Su was particularly sad at the
illness of his patron and went to see Kʻung-ming to talk it over.
“What do you make of it?” said Kʻung-ming.
“Good luck for Tsʻao Tsʻao; bad for us,” said Lu.
“I could cure him,” said Kʻung-ming laughing.
“If you could the State would be very fortunate,” said Lu.
He prayed Kʻung-ming to go to see the sick man. They went, and Lu Su
entered first. Chou Yü lay in bed, his head covered by a quilt.
“How are you, General?” said Lu.
“My heart pains me; every now and again I feel faint and dizzy.”
“Have you taken any remedies?”
“My gorge rises at the thought; I could not.”
“I saw Kʻung-ming just now and he says he could heal you. He is just
outside and I will call him if you like.”
“Ask him to come in.”
Chou bade his servants help him to a sitting position and Kʻung-ming
entered.
“I have not seen you for days,” said he. “How could I guess that you
were unwell?”
“How can any one feel secure? We are constantly the playthings of luck,
good or bad.
“Yes; Heaven’s winds and clouds are not to be measured. No one can
reckon their comings and goings, can they?”
Chou Yü turned pale and a low groan escaped him, while his visitor went
on, “You feel depressed, do you not? As though troubles were piling up
in your heart?”
“That is exactly how I feel.”
“You need cooling medicine to dissipate this sense of oppression.”
“I have taken a cooling draught, but it has done no good.”
“You must get the humours into good order before the drugs will have
any effect.”
Chou Yü began to think Kʻung-ming knew what was really the matter and
resolved to test him. “What should be taken to produce a favourable
temper?”
“I know one means of producing a favourable temper,” replied
Kʻung-ming.
“I wish you would tell me.”
Kʻung-ming got out writing materials, sent away the servants and then
wrote a few words:—“One should burn out Tsʻao; all is ready, but there
is no east wind,” this he gave to the sick general, saying “That is the
origin of your illness.”
Chou Yü read the words with great surprise and it confirmed his secret
opinion that Kʻung-ming really was rather more than human. He decided
that the only course was to be open and tell him all. So he said,
“Since you know the cause of the disease, what do you recommend as
treatment? The need of a remedy is very urgent.”
“I have no great talent,” said Kʻung-ming, “but I have had to do with
men of no ordinary gifts from whom I have received certain magical
books. I can call the winds and summon the rains. Since you need a
south-east breeze, General, you must build an altar on the Nanping
Mountains, the Altar of the Seven Stars. It must be nine feet high,
with three steps, surrounded by a guard of one hundred and twenty men
bearing flags. On this altar I will work a spell to procure a strong
south-east gale for three days and three nights. Do you approve?”
“Never mind three whole days;” said Chou Yü, “one day of strong wind
will serve my purpose. But it must be done at once and without delay.”
“I will sacrifice for a wind for three days from the twentieth day of
the moon; will that suit you?”
Chou Yü was delighted and hastily rose from his couch to give the
necessary orders. He commanded that five hundred men should be sent to
the mountains to build the altar and he told off the guard of one
hundred and twenty to bear the flags and be at the orders of
Kʻung-ming.
Kʻung-ming took his leave, went forth and rode off with Lu Su to the
mountains where they measured out the ground. He bade the soldiers
build the altar of red earth from the south-east quarter. It was two
hundred and forty feet in circuit, square in shape, and of three tiers,
each of three feet, in all nine feet high. On the lowest tier he placed
the flags of the twenty-eight “houses” of the heavens; on the east
seven, with blue flags, on the north seven, with black flags, on the
west seven, with white flags, and on the south seven, with red flags.
Around the second tier he placed sixty-four yellow flags, corresponding
to the number of the diagrams of the Book of Divination, in eight
groups of eight. Four men were stationed on the highest platform, each
wearing a Taoist headdress and a black silk robe embroidered with the
phoenix and confined with wide sashes. They wore scarlet boots and
square-cut skirts. On the left front stood a man supporting a tall pole
bearing at its top a plume of light feathers to show by their least
movement the wind’s first breathing. On the right front was a man
holding a tall pole whereon was a flag with the symbol of the seven
stars to show the direction and force of the wind. On the left rear
stood a man with a sword, and on the right rear a man with a censer.
Below the altar were two score and four men holding flags, umbrellas,
spears, lances, yellow banners, white axes, red bannerols and black
ensigns. And these were spaced about the altar.
On the appointed day Kʻung-ming, having chosen a propitious moment,
bathed his body and purified himself. Then he robed himself as a
Taoist, loosened his locks and approached the altar.
He bade Lu Su retire saying, “Return to the camp and assist the General
in setting out his forces. Should my prayers avail not, do not wonder.”
So Lu Su left him. Then he commanded the guards on no account to absent
themselves, to maintain strict silence and to be reverent; death would
be the penalty of disobedience.
Next with solemn steps he ascended the altar, faced the proper quarter,
lighted the incense and sprinkled the water in the basins. This done he
gazed into the heavens and prayed silently. The prayer ended he
descended and returned to his tent. After a brief rest he allowed the
soldiers by turns to go away to eat.
Thrice that day he ascended the altar and thrice descended; but there
was no sign of the wind.
Here it may be related that Chou Yü with Chʻêng Pʻu and Lu Su and a
certain number of military officials on duty, sat waiting in the tent
till the wished-for wind should blow and the attack could be launched.
Messengers were also sent to Sun Chʻüan to prepare to support the
forward movement.
Huang Kai had his fire ships ready, a score of them. The fore parts of
the ships were thickly studded with large nails, and they were loaded
with dry reeds, wood soaked in fish oil and covered with sulphur,
saltpetre and other inflammables. The ships were covered in with black
oiled cloth. In the prow of each was a black dragon flag with
indentations. A fighting ship was attached to the stern of each to
propel it forward. All were ready and awaited orders to move.
Meanwhile Tsʻao Tsʻao’s two spies, the brothers Tsʻai, were being
guarded carefully in an outer camp far from the river bank and daily
entertained with feasting. They were not allowed to know of the
preparations. The watch was so close that not a trickle of information
reached the prisoners.
Presently, while Chou Yü was anxiously awaiting in his tent for the
desired wind, a messenger came to say that Sun Chʻüan had anchored at a
place eighty-five li from the camp, where he awaited news. Lu Su was
sent to warn all the various commanders to be ready, the ships and
their weapons, sails and oars, all for instant use, and to impress upon
them the penalties of being caught unprepared. The soldiers were indeed
ready for the fight and yearning for the fray.
But the sky remained obstinately clear and as night drew nigh no breath
of air stirred.
“We have been cajoled,” said Chou Yü. “Indeed what possibility is there
of a south-east wind in mid-winter?”
“Kʻung-ming would not use vain and deceitful words,” replied Lu Su.
Towards the third watch the sound of a movement arose in the air. Soon
the flags fluttered out. And when the general went out to make sure he
saw they were flowing toward the north-west. In a very short time the
south-east wind was in full force.
Chou Yü was, however, frightened at the power of the man whose help he
had invoked. “Really the man has power over the heavens and authority
over the earth; his methods are incalculable, beyond the ken of god or
devil. He cannot be allowed to live to be a danger to our land of Wu.
We must slay him soon to fend off later evils.”
So he resolved to commit a crime to remove his dangerous rival. He
called two of the captains of his guard, Ting Fêng and Hsü Shêng, and
bade each take a party, one along the river, the other along the road,
to the altar on the mountains. As soon as they got there, without
asking questions or giving reasons, they were to seize and behead
Kʻung-ming. They might expect a solid reward if they brought his head.
The two went off on their nefarious errand, one leading dagger- and
axe-men going as fast as oars could propel them along the river, the
other at the head of archers and bowmen on horseback. The south-east
wind buffeted them as they went on their way.
High was raised the Seven Stars’ Altar,
On it prayed the Sleeping Dragon
For an eastern wind, and straightway
Blew the wind. Had not the wizard
Exercised his mighty magic
Nought had Chou Yü’s skill availed.
Ting Fêng first arrived. He saw the guards with their flags, dropped
off his steed and marched to the altar, sword in hand. But he found no
Kʻung-ming. He asked the guards; they told him he had just gone down.
Ting Fêng ran down the hill to search. There he met his fellow and they
joined forces. Presently a simple soldier told them that the evening
before a small, fast boat had anchored there near a sand spit and
Kʻung-ming had been seen to go on board. Then the boat had gone up
river. So they divided their party into two, one to go by water, the
other by land.
Hsü Shêng bade his boatmen put on all sail and take every advantage of
the wind. Before very long he saw the fugitive’s boat ahead and when
near enough, stood in the prow of his own and shouted, “Do not flee, O
Instructor of the Army! The General requests your presence.”
Kʻung-ming, who was seated in the stern of his boat, just laughed
aloud, “Return and tell the General to make good use of his men. Tell
him I am going up river for a spell and will see him again another
day.”
“Pray wait a little while,” cried Hsü. “I have something most important
to tell you.”
“I knew all about it, that he would not let me go and that he wanted to
kill me. That is why Chao Yün was waiting for me. You had better not
approach nearer.”
Seeing the other ship had no sail, Hsü Shêng thought he would assuredly
come up with it and so maintained the pursuit. Then when he got too
close Chao Yün fitted an arrow to the bowstring and, standing up in the
stern of his boat, cried, “You know who I am and I came expressly to
escort the Instructor. Why are you pursuing him? One arrow would kill
you, only that would cause a breach of the peace between two houses. I
will shoot and just give you a specimen of my skill.”
With that he shot, and the arrow whizzed overhead cutting the rope that
held up the sail. Down came the sail trailing in the water and the boat
swung round. Then Chao Yün’s boat hoisted its sail and the fair wind
speedily carried it out of sight.
On the bank stood Ting Fêng. He bade his comrade come to the shore and
said, “He is too clever for any man; and Chao Yün is bravest of the
brave. You remember what he did at Tangyang Slope. All we can do is to
return and report.”
So they returned to camp and told their master about the preparations
that Kʻung-ming had made to ensure safety. Chou Yü was indeed puzzled
at the depth of his rival’s insight. “I shall have no peace day or
night while he lives,” said he.
“At least wait till Tsʻao is done with,” said Lu Su.
And Chou Yü knew he spake wisely. Having summoned the leaders to
receive orders, first he bade Kan Ning take with him the false deserter
Tsʻai Chung and his soldiers and go along the south bank, showing the
flags of Tsʻao Tsʻao, till they reached the “Black” Forest (Wu Lin)
just opposite the enemy’s main store of grain and forage. Then they
were to penetrate as deeply as possible into the enemy’s lines and
light a torch as a signal. Tsʻai Chung’s brother was to be kept in camp
for another purpose.
The next order was for Tʻaishih Tzŭ; he was to lead two companies as
quickly as possible to Huangchou and cut the enemy’s communications
with Hofei. When near the enemy he was to give a signal and if he saw a
red flag he would know that Sun Chʻüan was at hand with reinforcements.
These two had the farthest to go and started first. Then Lü Mêng was
sent into Wu Lin (the “Black” Forest) with three companies as a
support. Kan Ning was ordered to set fire to the camp. A fourth party
was to go to the borders of Iling and attack as soon as the signal from
the forest was seen. A fifth party of three companies went to Hanyang
to fall upon the enemy along the river. Their signal was a white flag
and a sixth division supported them.
When these six parties had gone off, Huang Kai got ready his fire ships
and sent a soldier with a note to tell Tsʻao Tsʻao that he was coming
over that evening. Four fighting ships were told off to support Huang
Kai.
The four squadrons, each of three hundred ships, were placed under four
commanders, Han Tang, Chou Tʻai, Chiang Chʻin and Chʻên Wu. The score
of fire ships preceded them. Chou Yü and Chʻêng Pʻu went on board one
of the large ships to direct the battle. Their guards were Ting Fêng
and Hsü Shêng. Lu Su, Kʻan Tsê and the advisers were left to guard the
camp. Chʻêng Pʻu was greatly impressed with Chou Yü’s ordering of the
attack.
Then came a messenger bearing a mandate from Sun Chʻüan making Lu Hsün
leader of the van. He was ordered to go to Chʻihuang. The Marquis
himself would support him. Chou Yü also sent a man to the western hills
to make signals and to hoist flags on the Nanping Mountains.
So all being prepared they waited for dusk.
Here it is necessary to diverge from the direct narrative to say that
Yüan-tê was at Hsiakʻou anxiously awaiting the return of his adviser.
Then appeared a fleet, led by Liu Chʻi, who had come to find out how
matters were progressing. Yüan-tê sent to call him to the battle tower
and told him of the south-east wind that had begun to blow and that
Chao Yün had gone to meet Kʻung-ming. Not long after a single sail was
seen coming up before the wind and he knew it was Kʻung-ming, the
Instructor of the Army. So he and Liu Chʻi went down to meet the boat.
Soon the vessel reached the shore and Kʻung-ming and Chao Yün
disembarked.
Yüan-tê was very glad and after they had enquired after each other’s
well-being Kʻung-ming said, “There is no time to tell of any other
things now. Are the soldiers and ships ready?”
“They have long been ready,” replied Yüan-tê. “They only await you to
direct how they are to be used.”
The three then went to the tent and took their seats. Kʻung-ming at
once began to issue orders. “Chao Yün, with three companies is to cross
the river and go to the Wu Lin by the minor road. He will choose a
dense jungle and prepare an ambush. To-night, after the fourth watch,
Tsʻao Tsʻao will hurry along that way. When half his men have passed,
the jungle is to be fired. Tsʻao Tsʻao will not be wholly destroyed but
many will perish.”
“There are two roads,” said Chao Yün. “One leads to the southern
districts and the other to Chingchou. I do not know by which he will
come.”
“The south road is too dangerous; Tsʻao Tsʻao will certainly pass along
the Chingchou road, so that he may get away to Hsüchʻang.”
Then Chao Yün went away. Next Kʻung-ming said to Chang Fei, “You will
take three companies over the river to cut the road to Iling. You will
ambush in the Hulu Valley. Tsʻao Tsʻao, not daring to go to South
Iling, will go to North Iling. To-morrow, after the rain, he will halt
to refresh his men. As soon as the smoke is seen to rise from their
cooking fires you will fire the hill side. You will not capture Tsʻao
Tsʻao but you will render excellent service.”
So Chang Fei left. Next was called Mi Chu, Mi Fang and Liu Fêng. They
were to take command of three squadrons and go along the river to
collect the weapons that the beaten soldiers would throw away.
The three left. Then Kʻung-ming said to Liu Chʻi, “The country around
Wuchʻang is very important and I wish you to take command of your own
troops and station them at strategic points. Tsʻao Tsʻao, being
defeated, will flee thither, and you will capture him. But you are not
to leave the city without the best of reasons.”
And Liu Chʻi took leave.
Then Kʻung-ming said to Yüan-tê, “I wish you to remain quietly and
calmly in Fankʻou while Chou Yü works out his great scheme this night.”
All this time Kuan Yü has been silently waiting his turn but Kʻung-ming
said no word to him. When he could bear this no longer he cried, “Since
I first followed my brother to battle many years ago I have never been
left behind. Now that great things are afoot is there no work for me?
What is meant by it?”
“You should not be surprised. I wanted you for service at a most
important point only that there was a something standing in the way
that prevented me from sending you,” said Kʻung-ming.
“What could stand in the way? I wish you would tell me.”
“You see Tsʻao Tsʻao was once very kind to you and you cannot help
feeling grateful. Now when his soldiers have been beaten he will have
to flee along the Huayung road and if I sent you to guard it you would
have to let him pass. So I will not send you.”
“You are most considerate, Instructor. But though it is true that he
treated me well, yet I slew two of his most redoubtable opponents by
way of repayment, beside raising a siege. If I happened upon him on
this occasion I should hardly let him go.”
“But what if you did?”
“You could deal with me by military rules.”
“Then put that in writing.”
So Kuan Yü wrote a formal undertaking and gave the document to
Kʻung-ming.
“What happens if Tsʻao Tsʻao does not pass that way?” said Kuan Yü.
“I will give you a written engagement that he will pass.” Then he
continued, “On the hills by the Huayung Valley you are to raise a heap
of wood and grass to make a great column of smoke and mislead Tsʻao
Tsʻao into coming.”
“If Tsʻao Tsʻao sees a smoke he will suspect an ambush and will not
come.” said Kuan Yü.
“You are very simple,” said Kʻung-ming. “Do you not know more of war’s
ruses than that? Tsʻao Tsʻao is an able leader but you can deceive him
this time. When he sees the smoke he will take it as a subterfuge and
risk going that way. But do not let your kindness of heart rule your
conduct.”
Thus was his duty assigned Kuan Yü and he left, taking his adopted son,
Pʻing, Chou Tsʻang and a half company of swordsmen.
Said Liu Pei, “His sense of rectitude is very profound; I fear if Tsʻao
Tsʻao should come that way that my brother will let him pass.”
“I have consulted the stars and Tsʻao the rebel is not fated to come to
his end yet. I have purposely designed this manifestation of kindly
feeling for Kuan Yü to accomplish and so act handsomely.”
“Indeed there are few such far-seeing men as you are,” said Yüan-tê.
The two then went to Fankʻou whence they might watch Chou Yü’s
evolutions. Sun Chʻüan and Chien Yung were left on guard.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was in his great camp in conference with his advisers and
awaiting the arrival of Huang Kai. The south-east wind was very strong
that day and Chʻêng Yü was insisting on the necessity for precaution.
But Tsʻao laughed saying, “The Winter Solstice depends upon the sun and
nothing else; there is sure to be a south wind at some one or other of
its recurrences. I see nothing to wonder at.”
Just then they announced the arrival of a small boat from the other
shore with a letter from Huang Kai. The bearer of the letter was
brought in and presented it. It stated that Chou Yü had kept such
strict watch that there had been no chance of escape. But now some
grain was coming down river and Huang Kai had been named as escort
commander, which would give him the opportunity he desired. He would
slay one of the known captains and bring his head as an offering when
he came. That evening at the third watch, if boats were seen with
dragon toothed flags, they would be the grain boats.
This letter delighted Tsʻao Tsʻao who, with his officers, went to the
naval camp and boarded a great ship to watch for the arrival of Huang
Kai.
In Chiangtung, when evening fell, Chou Yü sent for Tsʻao Ho and bade
the soldiers bind him. The unhappy man protested that he had committed
no crime but Chou Yü said, “What sort of a fellow are you, think you,
to come and pretend to desert to my side? I need a small sacrifice for
my flag and your head will serve my purpose. So I am going to us it.”
Tsʻai Ho being at the end of his tether unable to deny the charge
suddenly cried, “Two of your own side, Kʻan Tsê and Kan Ning, are also
in the plot!”
“Under my directions,” said Chou Yü.
Tsʻai Ho was exceedingly repentant and sad, but Chou Yü bade them take
him to the river bank where the black standard had been set up and
there, after the pouring of a libation and the burning of paper, he was
beheaded, his blood being a sacrifice to the flag.
This ceremony over the ships started and Huang Kai took his place on
the third ship. He merely wore breast armour and carried a keen blade.
On his flag were written four large characters “Van Leader Huang Kai”.
With a fair wind his fleet sailed toward Chʻihpʻi, or Red Wall.
The wind was strong and the waves ran high. Tsʻao Tsʻao in the midst of
the central squadron eagerly scanned the river which rolled down under
the bright moon like a silver serpent writhing in innumerable folds.
Letting the wind blow full in his face Tsʻao Tsʻao laughed aloud for
was he not now to obtain his desire?
Then a soldier pointing to the river said, “The whole south is one mass
of sails and they are coming up on the wind.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao went to a higher point and gazed at the sails intently and
his men told him that the flags were black and dragon shaped, and
indented, and among them there flew one very large banner on which was
a name Huang Kai.
“That is my friend the deserter,” said he joyfully. “Heaven is on my
side to-day.”
As the ships drew closer Chʻêng Yü said, “Those ships are treacherous.
Do not let them approach the camp.”
“How know you that?” asked Tsʻao Tsʻao.
And Chʻêng Yü replied, “If they were laden with grain they would lie
deep in the water. But these are light and float easily. The south-east
wind is very strong and if they intend treachery, how can we defend
ourselves?”
Tsʻao Tsʻao began to understand. Then he asked who would go out to stop
them, and Wên Pʻing volunteered. “I am well used to the waters,” said
he.
Thereupon he sprang into a small light craft and sailed out, followed
by a half score cruisers which came at his signal. Standing in the prow
of his ship he called out to those advancing toward them, “You southern
ships are not to approach; such are the orders of the Minister. Stop
there in mid stream.”
The soldiers all yelled to them to lower their sails. The shout had not
died away when a bowstring twanged and Wên Pʻing rolled down into the
ship with an arrow in the left arm. Confusion reigned on his ship and
all the others harried back to their camp.
When the ships were about a couple of li distant, Huang Kai waved his
sword and the leading ships broke forth into fire, which, under the
force of the strong wind, soon gained strength and the ships became as
fiery arrows. Soon the whole twenty dashed into the naval camp.
All Tsʻao Tsʻao’s ships were gathered there and as they wore firmly
chained together not one could escape from the others and flee. There
was a roar of bombs and fireships came on from all sides at once. The
face of the three rivers was speedily covered with fire which flew
before the wind from one ship to another. It seemed as if the universe
was filled with flame.
Tsʻao Tsʻao hastened toward the shore. Huang Kai, with a few men at his
back, leaped into a small boat, dashed through the fire and sought
Tsʻao Tsʻao. He, seeing the imminence of the danger, was making for the
land, Chang Liao got hold of a small boat into which he helped his
master; none too soon, for the ship was burning. They got Tsʻao Tsʻao
out of the thick of the fire and dashed for the bank.
Huang Kai seeing a handsomely robed person get into a small boat
guessed it must be Tsʻao Tsʻao and pursued. He drew very near and he
held his keen blade ready to strike, crying out, “You rebel! do not
flee. I am Huang Kai.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao howled in the bitterness of his distress. Chang Liao fitted
an arrow to his bow and aimed at the pursuer, shooting at short range.
The roaring of the gale and the flames kept Huang Kai from hearing the
twang of the string and he was wounded in the shoulder. He fell and
rolled over into the water.
He fell in peril of water
When flames were high;
Ere cudgel bruises had faded,
An arrow struck.
Huang Kai’s fate will be told in the next chapter.