CHUKO LIANG FORESEES THE HUAYUNG EPISODE:
KUAN YÜN-CHʻANG RELEASES TSʻAO TSʻAO.
The last chapter closed with Huang Kai in the water wounded, Tsʻao
Tsʻao rescued from immediate danger and confusion rampant among the
soldiers. Pressing forward to attack the naval camp Han Tang was told
by his soldiers that some one was clinging to the rudder of his boat
and shouting to him by his familiar name. Han Tang listened carefully
and in the voice at once he recognised that Huang Kai was calling to
him for help.
“That is my friend Huang Kai,” cried he and they quickly pulled the
wounded leader out of the water. Then they saw Huang Kai was wounded
for the arrow still stuck. Han bit out the shaft of the arrow but the
point was deeply buried in the flesh. They hastily pulled off his wet
garments and cut out the metal arrowhead with a dagger, tore up one of
the flags and bound up the wound. Then Han Tang gave his friend his own
fighting robe to put on and sent him off in a small boat back to camp.
Huang Kai’s escape from drowning must be taken as proof of his natural
affinity for, or sympathy with, water. Although it was the period of
great cold and he was heavy with armour when he fell into the river yet
he escaped with life.
In this great battle at the junction of the rivers, when fire seemed to
spread wide over all the wide surface of the water, when the earth
quaked with the roar of battle, when land forces closed in on both
wings and four battle squadrons advanced on the front, when the
ferocity of fire answered the clash of weapons and weapons were aided
by fire, under the thrusts of spears and the flights of arrows, burnt
by fire and drowned by water, Tsʻao Tsʻao lost an incalculable number
of men. And a poet wrote:—
When Wei and Wu together strove
For the mastery,
In Red Cliff fight the towering ships
Vanished from the sea,
For there the fierce flames, leaping high,
Burned them utterly.
So Chou Yü for his liege lord
Got the victory.
And another Poem runs:—
The hills are high, the moon shines faint,
The waters stretch afar;
I sigh to think how oft this land
Has suffered stress of war;
And I recall how southerners
Shrank from the northmen’s might,
And how a favouring eastern gale
Helped them to win the fight.
Leaving for a while the story of the slaughter on the river it is time
to follow Kan Ning. He made Tsʻao Chung guide him into the innermost
recesses of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s camp. Then he slew him with one slash of his
sword. After this he set fire to the jungle, and at this signal Lü Mêng
put fire to the grass in half a score places near to each other. Then
other fires were started, and the noise of battle was on all sides.
Tsʻao Tsʻao and the faithful Chang Liao, with a small party of
horsemen, fled through the burning forest. They could see no road in
front; all seemed on fire. Presently Mao Chieh and Wên Pʻing, with a
few more horsemen, joined them. Tsʻao Tsʻao bade the soldiers seek a
way through. Chang Liao pointed out that the only suitable road was
through the “Black” Forest and they took it.
They had gone but a short distance when they were overtaken by a small
party of the enemy and a voice cried, “Tsʻao Tsʻao, stop!” It was Lü
Mêng, whose ensign soon appeared against the fiery background. Tsʻao
Tsʻao urged his small party of fugitives forward bidding Chang Liao
defend him from Lü Mêng. Soon after he saw the light of torches in
front and from a gorge there rushed out another force. And the leader
cried “Ling Tʻung is here!”
Tsʻao Tsʻao was scared; his liver and gall both seemed torn from
within. But just then on his half right he saw another company approach
and heard a friendly cry “Fear not, O Minister, I am here to rescue
you.”
The speaker was Hsü Huang and he attacked the pursuers.
A move to the north seemed to promise escape, but soon they saw a camp
on a hill top. Hsü Huang went ahead to reconnoitre and found the
officers in command were Ma Yen and Chang I, who had once been in the
service of Yüan Shao. They had three companies of northern men in camp.
They had seen the sky redden with the flames, but knew not what was
afoot so dared make no move.
This turned out lucky for Tsʻao Tsʻao who now found himself with a
fresh force. He sent these two, with a company, to clear the road ahead
while the others remained as guard. And he felt much more secure.
The two went forward, but before they had gone very far they heard a
shouting and a party of soldiers came out, the leader of them shouting,
“I am Kan Hsing-pa of the land of Wu.” Nothing daunted the two leaders
would engage, but the redoubtable Kan Ning cut down Ma Yen, and when
his brother warrior Chang I set his spear and dashed forward, he too
fell beneath a stroke from the fearsome sword. Both leaders dead, the
soldiers fled to give Tsʻao Tsʻao the bad news.
At this time Tsʻao Tsʻao expected aid from Hofei for he knew not that
Sun Chʻüan was barring the road. But when Sun saw the fires and so knew
that his men had won the day he ordered Lu Hsün to give the answering
signal. Tʻaishih Tzŭ seeing this came down and his force joined up with
that of Lu Hsün and they went against Tsʻao.
As for Tsʻao Tsʻao he could only get away toward Iling. On the road he
fell in with Chang Ho and ordered him to protect the retreat. He
pressed on as quickly as possible. At the fifth watch he was a long way
from the glare and he felt safer. He asked the name of the place where
they were. They told him it was west of the “Black” Forest and north of
Itu. Seeing the thickly crowded trees all about him, and the steep
hills and narrow passes, he threw up his head and laughed. Those about
him asked why he was merry and he said he was only laughing at the
stupidity of Chou Yü and the ignorance of Chuko Liang. If they had only
set an ambush there, as he would have done, why, there was no escape.
He had scarcely finished his explanation when from both sides came a
deafening roll of drums and flames sprang up to heaven. Tsʻao Tsʻao
nearly fell off his horse, he was so startled. And from the side dashed
in a troop, with Chao Yün leading, who cried, “I am Chao Tzŭ-lung and
long have I been waiting here.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao ordered Hsü Huang and Chang Ho to engage this new opponent
and he himself rode off into the smoke and fire. Chao Yün did not
pursue; he only captured his banners and Tsʻao Tsʻao escaped.
The faint light of dawn showed a great black cloud all around, for the
south-east wind had not ceased. Suddenly began a heavy down-pour of
rain, wetting every one to the skin, but still Tsʻao Tsʻao maintained
his headlong flight till the starved faces of the men made a halt
imperative. He told the men to forage in the villages about for grain
and the means of making a fire. But when these had been found and they
began to cook a meal another pursuing party came along and Tsʻao Tsʻao
again was terrified. However, these proved to be friends escorting some
of his advisers whom he saw with joy.
When giving the order to advance again he asked what places lay ahead,
and they told him there were two roads; one was the highway to South
Iling and the other a mountain road to the north of Iling.
“Which is the shorter way to Chiangling?” asked Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“The best way is to take the south road through Hulukʻou,” was the
reply.
So he gave orders to march that way. By the time Hulukʻou was reached
the men were almost starving and could march no more; horses too were
worn out. Many had fallen by the roadside. A halt was then made, food
was taken by force from the villagers, and as there were still some
boilers left they found a dry spot beside the hills where they could
rest and cook. And there they began to prepare a meal, boiling grain
and roasting strips of horse-flesh. Then they took off their wet
clothes and spread them to dry. The beasts, too, were unsaddled and
turned out to graze.
Seated comfortably in a somewhat open spot Tsʻao Tsʻao suddenly looked
up and began to laugh loud and long. His companions, remembering the
sequel of his last laugh, said, “Not long since, Sir, you laughed at
Chou Yü and Chuko Liang; that resulted in the arrival of Chao Yün and
great loss of men to us. Why do you now laugh?”
“I am laughing again at the ignorance of the same two men. If I was in
their place, and conducting their campaign, I should have had an ambush
here, just to meet us when we were tired out. Then, even if we escaped
with our lives, we should suffer very severely. They did not see this
and therefore I am laughing at them.”
Even at that moment behind them rose a great yell. Thoroughly startled,
Tsʻao Tsʻao threw aside his breastplate and leaped upon his horse. Most
of the soldiers failed to catch theirs and then fires sprang up on
every side and filled the mouth of the valley. A force was arrayed
before them and at the head was the man of Yen, Chang Fei, seated on
his steed with his great spear levelled.
“Whither wouldst thou flee, O rebel?” shouted he.
The soldiers grew cold within at the sight of the terrible warrior. Hsü
Chʻu, mounted on a barebacked horse, rode up to engage him and two
comrades galloped up to his aid. The three gathered about Chang Fei and
a mêlée began, while Tsʻao Tsʻao made off at top speed. The other
leaders set off after him and Chang Fei pursued. However, Tsʻao Tsʻao
by dint of hard riding got away and gradually the pursuers were
out-distanced.
But many had received wounds. As they were going the soldiers said,
“There are two roads before us; which shall we take?”
“Which is the shorter?” asked Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“The high road is the more level, but it is fifty li longer than the
bye-road which goes to Huayungtao. Only the latter road is narrow and
dangerous, full of pits and difficult.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao sent men up to the hill tops to look around. They returned
saying there were several columns of smoke rising from the hills along
the road. The high road seemed quiet.
Then Tsʻao Tsʻao bade them lead the way along the bye-road.
“Where smoke arises there are surely soldiers,” remarked the officers.
“Why go this way?”
“Because the Book of War says that the hollow is to be regarded as
solid and the solid as hollow. That fellow Chuko Liang is very subtle
and has sent men to make those fires so that we should not go that way.
He has laid an ambush on the high road. I have made up my mind and I
will not fall a victim to his wiles.”
“O Minister, your conclusions are most admirable. None other can equal
you,” said the officers.
And the soldiers were sent along the highway. They were very hungry and
many almost too weak to travel. The horses too were spent. Some had
been scorched by the flames and they rode forward resting their heads
on their whips; the wounded struggled on to the last of their strength.
All were soaking wet and all were feeble. Their arms and accoutrements
were in a deplorable state, and more than half had been left upon the
road they had traversed. Few of the horses had saddles or bridles, for
in the confusion of pursuit they had been left behind. It was the time
of greatest winter cold and the suffering was indescribable.
Noticing that the leading party had stopped Tsʻao Tsʻao sent to ask the
reason. The messenger returned to report that by reason of the rain
water collected in the pits and the mire the horses could not move.
Tsʻao Tsʻao raged.
He said, “When soldiers come to hills they cut a road, when they happen
upon streams they bridge them; such a thing as mud cannot stay an
army.”
So he ordered the weak and wounded to go to the rear and come on as
they could, while the robust and able were to cut down trees, and
gather herbage and reeds to fill up the holes. And it was to be done
without delay, or death would be the punishment of the disobedient or
remiss.
So the men dismounted and felled trees and cut bamboos, and they
levelled the road. And because of the imminence and fear of pursuit a
party was told off to hasten the workers and slay any that idled.
The soldiers made their way along the shallower parts, but many fell,
and cries of misery were heard the whole length of the way.
“What are you howling for?” cried Tsʻao Tsʻao. “The number of your days
is fixed. Any one who howls shall be put to death.”
The remnant of the army, now divided into three, one to march slowly, a
second to fill up the waterways and hollows and a third to escort Tsʻao
Tsʻao, gradually made its way over the precipitous road. When the going
improved a little and the path was moderately level, Tsʻao Tsʻao turned
to look at his following and saw he had barely three hundred men. And
these lacked clothing and armour and were tattered and disordered.
But he pressed on, and when the officers told him the horses were quite
spent and must rest, he replied, “Press on to Chingchou and there we
shall find repose.”
So they pressed on. But they had gone only a few li when Tsʻao Tsʻao
flourished his whip and broke once again into loud laughter.
“What is there to laugh at?” asked the officers.
“People say those two are able and crafty; I do not see it. They are a
couple of incapables. If an ambush had been placed here we should all
be prisoners.”
He had not finished this speech when the explosion of a bomb broke the
silence and a half company of men with swords in their hands appeared
and barred the way. The leader was Kuan Yü holding the famous Black
Dragon sword, bestriding the “Red Hare” steed. At this sight the
spirits of the soldiers left them and they gazed into each others’
faces in panic.
“Now we have but one course;” said Tsʻao Tsʻao, “we must fight to the
death.”
“How can we?” said the officers. “The men are scared, the horses are
spent.”
Chʻêng Yü said, “I have always heard that Kuan Yü is haughty to the
proud but kindly to the humble; he despises the strong, but is gentle
with the weak. He discriminates between love and hate and is always
righteous and true. You, O Minister, have shown him kindness, and if
you will remind him of that we shall escape this evil.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao agreed to try. He rode out to the front, bowed low and
said, “General, I trust you have enjoyed good health.”
“I had orders to await you, O Minister,” replied he, bowing in return,
“and I have been expecting you these many days.”
“You see before you Tsʻao Tsʻao, defeated and weak. I have reached a
sad pass and I trust you, O General, will not forget the kindness of
former days.”
“Though indeed you were kind to me in those days, yet I slew your
enemies for you and relieved the siege of Paima. As to the business of
to-day, I cannot allow private feelings to outweigh public duty.”
“Do you remember my generals, slain at the five passes? The noble man
values righteousness. You are well versed in the histories and must
recall the action of Yu-kung, the archer, when he found his master
Tzŭ-cho in his power.”
Kuan Yü was indeed a very mountain of goodness and could not forget the
great kindness he had received at Tsʻao Tsʻao’s hands, and the
magnanimity he had shown over the deeds at the five passes. He saw the
desperate straits to which his benefactor was reduced and tears were
very near to the eyes of both. He could not press him hard. He pulled
at the bridle of his steed and turned away saying to his followers,
“Break up the formation.”
From this it was evident that his design was to release Tsʻao Tsʻao,
who then went on with his officers, and when Kuan Yü turned to look
back they had all passed. He uttered a great shout and the soldiers
jumped off their horses and knelt on the ground crying for mercy. But
he also had pity for them. Then Chang Liao, whom he knew well, came
along and was allowed to go free also.
Tsʻao Tsʻao, his army lost, fled to the Huayung Valley;
There in the throat of the gorge met he Kuan Yü.
Grateful was Kuan, and mindful of former kindness,
Wherefore slipped he the bolt and freed the imprisoned dragon.
Having escaped this danger Tsʻao Tsʻao hastened to get out of the
valley. As the throat opened out he glanced behind him and saw only two
score and seven horsemen. As evening fell they reached Nanchün and they
came upon what they took to be more enemies. Tsʻao Tsʻao thought the
end had surely come, but to his delight they were his own men and he
regained all his confidence. Tsʻao Jên, who was the leader, said that
he had heard of the misfortunes of his master, but he was afraid to
venture far from his charge else he would have met him before.
“I nearly missed you as it was,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao.
The fugitives found repose in the city, where Chang Liao soon joined
them. He also praised the magnanimity of Kuan Yü.
When Tsʻao Tsʻao mustered the miserable remnant of his host he found
nearly all were wounded and he bade them rest. Tsʻao Jên poured the
wine of consolation whereby his master might forget his sorrows. And as
Tsʻao drank among his familiars he became exceedingly sad.
Wherefore they said, “O Minister, when you were in the cave of the
tiger and trying to escape you showed no sign of sorrow; now that you
are safe in a city, where you have food and the horses have forage,
where all you have to do is to prepare for revenge, suddenly you lose
heart and grieve; why thus?”
Replied Tsʻao Tsʻao, “I am thinking of my friend Kuo Chia; had he been
alive he would not have let me suffer this loss.”
He beat his breast and wept, saying “Alas for Fêng-hsiao! I grieve for
Fêng-hsiao! I sorrow for Fêng-hsiao!”
The reproach shamed the advisers. Next day Tsʻao Tsʻao called Tsʻao Jên
and said, “I am going to the capital to prepare another army for
revenge. You are to guard this district and, in case of necessity, I
leave with you a sealed plan. You are only to open the cover when
hard-pressed, and then you are to act as directed. Wu will not dare to
look this way.”
“Who is to guard Hofei and Hsiangyang?”
“Chingchou is particularly your care and Hsiahou Tun is to hold
Hsiangyang. As Hofei is most important I am sending Chang Liao thither
with good aids. If you get into difficulties send at once to tell me.”
Having made these dispositions Tsʻao Tsʻao set off at once with a few
followers. He took with him the officers who had come over to his side
when Chingchou fell into his hands.
Tsʻao Jên placed Tsʻao Hung in charge of the south of Iling.
After having allowed the escape of Tsʻao Tsʻao, Kuan Yü found his way
back to headquarters. By this time the other detachments had returned
bringing spoil of horses and weapons and supplies of all kinds. Only
Kuan Yü came back empty-handed. When he arrived Chuko Liang was with
his brother congratulating him on his success. When Kuan Yü was
announced Kʻung-ming got up and went to welcome him, bearing a cup of
wine.
“Joy! O General,” said he. “You have done a deed that overtops the
world. You have removed the country’s worst foe and ought to have been
met at a distance and felicitated.”
Kuan Yü muttered inaudibly and Kʻung-ming continued, “I hope it is not
because we have omitted to welcome you on the road that you seem sad.”
Turning to those about him he said, “Why did you not tell us he was
coming?”
“I am here to ask for death,” said Kuan Yü.
“Surely Tsʻao Tsʻao came through the valley?”
“Yes; he came that way, and I could not help it; I let him go.”
“Then whom have you captured?”
“No one.”
“Then you remembered the old kindness of Tsʻao Tsʻao and so allowed him
to escape. But your acceptance of the task with its conditions is here.
You will have to suffer the penalty.”
He called in the lictors and told them to take away Kuan Yü and put him
to death.
Kuan Yü risked life when he spared Tsʻao
In direst need,
And age-long admiration gained
For kindly deed.
What actually befell will be seen in the next chapter.