YÜAN-TÊ ROUSES THE SPIRIT OF HIS BRIDE:
KʻUNG-MING A SECOND TIME ANGERS HIS RIVAL.
The bridegroom turned pale; bridal apartments lined with weapons of war
and waiting maids armed! But the housekeeper said, “Do not be
frightened, O honourable one. My lady has always had a taste for
warlike things and her maids have all been taught fencing as a pastime.
That is all it is.”
“Not the sort of thing a wife should ever look at,” said Liu Pei. “It
makes me feel cold and you may have them removed for a time.”
The housekeeper went to her mistress and said, “The weapons in your
chamber displease the handsome one; may we remove them?”
The Lady Sun laughed, saying, “Afraid of a few weapons after half a
life time spent in slaughter!”
But she ordered their removal and bade the maids take off their swords
while they were at work. And the night passed happily enough.
Next day Yüan-tê distributed gifts among the maids to secure their good
will. He also sent Sun Chʻien to Chingchou with news of the wedding,
while he gave himself up to feasting and enjoyment. The Dowager loved
him more every day.
The results of the plot to destroy Liu Pei were thus very different
from the originators’ intention. Sun Chʻüan sent to his general to say
that his mother had insisted upon marrying her daughter to their
proposed victim and so by juggling with the fictitious they had made it
real. What was to be done?
The news troubled Chou Yü, but eventually he thought out another scheme
which he embodied in a letter sent to his master. Here is the outline
of the missive:—“Contrary to expectation the plot that I, Chou Yü,
contrived has turned the wrong way. However, since by juggling with
deceit we have ended in a solid truth our future plans must start from
the actual present facts. To the boldness of the adventurer is added
the aid of such great captains as Kuan, Chang and Chao Yün, not to
mention that Liu Pei has a strategist like Chuko. He is not the man to
remain long in a lowly position. Wherefore I can think of no better
plan than to enervate him by surrounding him with softness and keeping
him in Wu, a prisoner of luxury. Therefore build for him a fine Palace
to blunt the edge of his determination and surround him with sensuous
luxury. In this way the affection of his brothers will be alienated and
Chuko will be driven away. When this result has been attained we can
smite him and so end a great matter. If we be at all careless I fear
the recumbent dragon may fly to the skies; it is no beast to be kept in
a pond.
“My lord, I pray you to consider this thoroughly.”
The letter was shown to Chang Chao who said, “My idea is identical with
his. Liu Pei began life in a humble position and for years has been a
wanderer. He has never tasted the delights of wealth. Give him the
means of luxury, a beautiful dwelling, fair women, gold and silken
attire, and as he enjoys them the thoughts of Kʻung-ming and his
brothers will fade away and they, on their side, will be filled with
rancour. Thus can we lay our plans for recovering Chingchou. I
recommend action as Chou Yü says and quickly.”
Sun Chʻüan then set about re-decorating the eastern Palace and laying
out the grounds. He filled the rooms with beautiful furniture for his
sister and her husband. He also sent fair damsels and musicians by the
score, and many and beautiful vessels in gold and silver, and silken
stuffs. And his mother was delighted at his kindness to her son-in-law.
Indeed Liu Pei was soon so immersed in sensuous pleasure that he gave
no thought to return. Chao Yün and the company under him led an idle
life in the front portion of the eastern Palace, save that at times
they went outside the city for archery and horse-racing. And thus
passed the year.
Suddenly Chao Yün remembered the orders he had received and the three
bags with the plans in them. It was time to open the second one for the
end of the year was nigh. His orders were only to open the third when
danger was very near and there appeared no way out.
As already remarked, the year was drawing to a close and Chao Yün saw
his lord daily becoming more and more the slave of pleasure. Liu Pei
never appeared among his guards now. So the bag was opened and in
pursuance of the wonderful scheme thereby discovered, Chao Yün went to
the hall of the Palace and asked to see his master. The maid in
attendance went within and said, “Chao Yün has some important matter on
which to see the master.”
Yüan-tê called him in and asked what the business was. Chao Yün assumed
an attitude of great concern and said, “My lord, you are living happily
secluded in these beautiful apartments; do you never think of
Chingchou?”
“But what is the matter that you seem so disturbed?” asked Liu.
“To-day early Kʻung-ming sent a messenger to say that Tsʻao Tsʻao was
trying to avenge his last defeat and was leading fifty legions to
attack Chingchou, which was in great danger. And he wished you to
return.”
“I must speak to my wife,” said Yüan-tê.
“If you consult her she will be unwilling for you to return. It would
be better to say nothing but to start this evening. Delay may do great
damage.”
“Retire for a time; I must act discreetly,” said Liu Pei.
Chao Yün urged the need to return several times more, but finally went
away.
Yüan-tê went into his wife’s rooms and began to weep silently. Seeing
his tears the Lady Sun said, “Why are you so sad, my husband?”
Yüan-tê replied, “I have been driven hither and thither all my life. I
was never able to do my duty to my parents nor have I been able to
sacrifice to my ancestors. I have been very unfilial. The new year is
at hand and its approach disquiets me greatly.”
“Do not try to deceive me,” said the Lady Sun. “I heard and I know all.
Just now Chao Yün came to tell you Chingchou was threatened and you
wish to return home. That is why you put forward this excuse.”
Then Yüan-tê fell on his knees and said, “Why should I dissemble, O
wife, since you know? I do not wish to go, but if Chingchou be lost I
shall be an object of ridicule to every one. I do desire to go, but I
cannot leave you. Now you know why I am grieved.”
She replied, “I am your handmaid and whithersoever you go it is my duty
to follow.”
“Yes; your heart is right, but the difficulty is your mother and the
Marquis; they will be unwilling. If you would have pity on me and let
me go for a time——.”
And again the tears gushed forth.
“Do not be so sad, my husband,” said the Lady Sun. “I will implore my
mother to let us go and she will surely allow it.”
“Even supposing the Dowager permits I am sure the Marquis will hinder.”
The Lady Sun said nothing for a long time while she weighed the matter
thoroughly. Presently she spoke, “On New Year’s Day you and I will go
to court and present our congratulations. Then we will give the excuse
of a sacrifice on the river bank and go away without formal leave. Will
that suit you?”
Yüan-tê knelt at her feet and expressed his gratitude. “I should be
never so grateful,” said he. “Dead or alive I would remember your love.
But this must be a perfect secret.”
This having been decided and the arrangements made, Chao Yün received
secret orders to lead out his company and be on the road on New Year’s
morn. He was told they were going away.
Sun Chʻüan held a grand court on the New Year’s Day of the fifteenth
year of “Established Tranquillity.” Liu Pei and his bride went into the
Dowager’s presence and the Lady Sun said, “My husband has been thinking
of his ancestors, who lie in Cho, and grieves that he cannot do his
duty by them. To-day we wish to go to the river side and offer
sacrifices toward the north. It is our duty to inform you.”
“A very filial proceeding,” said the Dowager. “I should not think of
stopping you. Although you have never known your husband’s parents yet
you may go with him to sacrifice as it is proper for a wife to do.”
Both thanked the Dowager and went out, rejoicing at having so far
hoodwinked Sun Chʻüan. The Lady Sun got into her carriage taking only a
little clothing with her, while Yüan-tê followed with a small escort.
They went out of the city and met Chao Yün at the place arranged. Then
with a guard in front and rear they left the precincts of the city,
travelling as quickly as they could.
That day, at the new year banquet, Sun Chʻüan drank freely so that he
had to be helped to his chamber, and the guests left. Before very long
the escape of the fugitives became known, but it was then dark and when
they tried to tell Sun Chʻüan they could not rouse him. He slept
heavily until the fifth watch.
The next morning, when Sun Chʻüan heard the story he asked advice of
his counsellors. Chang Shao said, “They have got away to-day but
trouble will surely come of it; therefore pursue after them without
loss of time.”
So Chʻên Wu and Pʻan Chang, with a half-company of veterans, were sent
out with orders to use all speed both by day and by night and bring
back the fugitives.
They left. Sun Chʻüan’s anger burned hot against Yüan-tê. In his wrath
he seized his jade inkstone and dashed it to the ground where it
shivered to pieces.
Said Chʻêng Pʻu, “My lord, your wrath is in vain, for I do not think
your men will catch the runaways.”
“Will they dare to disobey my order?” said Sun Chʻüan.
“Our young lady had always delighted to look upon war and is very
fierce and determined. All the officers fear her. Now she has gone with
her husband of her own free will and those sent in pursuit, if once
they look upon her countenance, will not dare to lay hands on her.”
Sun Chʻüan’s wrath burned the more fiercely at these words. He drew the
sword girded at his side and called up Chiang Chʻin and Chou Tʻai
saying, “You two take this sword and bring back the heads of my sister
and Liu Pei. And if you do not I will put you to death.”
With this order they set out in pursuit, leading a whole company.
Meanwhile Yüan-tê and his wife were pressing forward with all speed.
When night fell they rested for a time by the roadside, but not for
long. Just as they reached the confines of Chʻaisang they turned and
saw a great cloud of dust and the soldiers said that a force was coming
in pursuit.
“What shall we do if they come up with us?” said Yüan-tê excitedly to
Chao Yün.
“My lord, you go on in front and I will prevent pursuit.”
As they turned the foot of a hill they saw a troop of soldiers blocking
their road in front. Two captains were there and they bellowed, “Liu
Pei, dismount and yield yourself captive. We are here by order of
General Chou and you have kept us waiting long.”
Now the thought had come to Chou Yü that Yüan-tê would try to flee, and
so he had sent Hsü Shêng and Ting Fêng, with three companies, to
intercept him at this critical spot. They had made a camp there and
kept a lookout from the hill-tops, for Chou had calculated that he
would certainly pass that way. So when Liu Pei and his cavalcade
appeared they all buckled on their arms and barred the way.
Greatly fearing, Yüan-tê rode back to consult Chao Yün, to whom he
said, “In front a force barring the road; in rear pursuers. There is no
escape. What can we do?”
“Do not be alarmed, my lord. The great strategist gave me three plans
enclosed in three silken bags. Two have been used and have answered
admirably. There is yet the third and my orders were to open the bag in
such a strait as this. This is a day of great danger such as calls me
to open the bag.”
Thereupon he opened the bag and handed it to Yüan-tê. As soon as
Yüan-tê had seen the contents he hastened to the Lady Sun’s carriage
and began to weep, saying, “I have something private to say, and I must
tell you.”
“What have you to tell me, my husband? Tell me the whole truth,”
replied she.
“Your brother and Chou Yü formerly made a plot for you to marry me, not
for your sake, but to get me into their power and hold me so that they
might recover Chingchou. They were set on my murder, and you were the
bait with which to hook me. Careless of consequences I came, for I knew
that the spirit of a man dwelt in your bosom and you would pity me.
Lately I heard that harm was intended me and so I made danger to
Chingchou the excuse to escape. Happily for me you have remained true
and come with me. But now the Marquis is pursuing us and Chou Yü’s men
are in front. Only you, my wife, can extricate us from this danger and
if you refuse, then slay me where I stand that I may thus show my
gratitude for your kindness.”
The Lady Sun grew angry and said, “Then does my brother forget that I
am his sister? How will he ever look me in the face? I can extricate us
from this danger.”
Thereupon she bade her people push the carriage to the front. She
rolled up the blind and herself called out, “Hsü Shêng, Ting Fêng, are
you turned traitors then?”
The two captains slid out of their saddles, dropped their arms and
stood meekly in front of the carriage.
“We are no traitors,” said they. “We have the General’s orders to camp
here and await Liu Pei.”
“Chou Yü is an interfering scoundrel,” cried she. “We of the land of Wu
have never harmed you, and Yüan-tê, the Uncle of the Great Family, is
my husband. I have already told my mother and my brother of our journey
and now I find you with an army at the foot of these hills preventing
our passage. Is it that you would plunder us of our valuables?”
The two captains mumbled dissent; they would not dare such a thing. “We
pray you, O Lady, to stay your anger. This is no plan of ours; we do
but obey our General’s orders.”
“So you fear Chou Yü and not me!” cried she scornfully. “Think you that
if he slay you I will not slay him?”
She broke into a torrent of abuse of Chou Yü. Then she bade them push
her carriage forward.
The two leaders thought within themselves, “We are but men of lowly
rank, we dare not dispute with the Lady Sun.” Beside they saw Chao Yün
was bursting with wrath. So they ordered their men to stand aside and
leave the road clear.
The cavalcade had only gone a little distance when up came the
pursuers. The two captains told the new-comers what had happened. “You
were wrong to let them pass,” said Chʻên and Pʻan. “We have orders from
the Marquis himself to arrest them.”
Thereupon all four went in pursuit. When the noise of the approaching
force reached the ears of Yüan-tê he said to his wife, “They are again
pursuing us; what now?”
“Husband, go on in front. I and Chao Yün will keep them off.”
So Yüan-tê and a small company went on toward the river bank, while
Chao Yün reined up beside the lady’s carriage and set out his men ready
for battle. And when the four men came up they dismounted and stood
with folded arms.
“What are you doing here, Captains?” asked the Lady Sun.
“We have orders from our lord to request you and Yüan-tê to return.”
Calmly but bitterly she said, “So this is the sort of fools you are!
You would make dissension between brother and sister. But I am a wife
on my way to my husband’s home. Nor am I leaving clandestinely, for I
had my mother’s gracious permission. Now we, husband and wife, are
going to Chingchou and if even my brother were here himself he would
let us pass in all politeness. But you, because you have weapons in
your hands, would slay us!”
She abused the four men to their faces so that they looked from one to
another in shame. And each in his heart thought, “Say what one will,
after all they two are brother and sister and the Dowager is the
controlling power. Sun Chʻüan is most obedient and would never dare
oppose his mother’s decision. When the reaction comes, then indeed we
shall certainly be found in the wrong. We had better be kind.” Another
thing was that one of the two they sought, Yüan-tê, was not there and
Chao Yün looked angry and dangerous. Finally, muttering to themselves,
they gave way and with one accord retired and left the road open. The
Lady Sun passed through.
“We four will go to see the General and report,” said Hsü Shêng.
But that did not please them all and they stood irresolute. Presently
they saw a column of men sweeping down on them like a hurricane. These
were Chiang and Chou with their company.
“Have you fellows seen Liu Pei?” they cried as they rushed up.
“He has just passed along.”
“Why did you not arrest him?”
“Because of what the Lady Sun said.”
“That is just as the Marquis feared and so he gave us this sword and
told us first to slay his sister and then Liu Pei. And if we disobey he
will put us to death.”
“What can be done? They are far away by now.”
Chiang Chʻin said, “After all they are but a few and on foot; they
cannot travel very fast. Let Hsü and Ting go to Chou Yü to tell him,
and he can send fast boats to pursue them on the river while we follow
up on the bank. We must get them either on water or land and we must
not listen to what they say.”
Whereupon two went back to report and two to the river bank. Meanwhile
Liu Pei had got a long way from Chʻaisang and reached Liulangpu. He now
felt calmer. He went along the bank of the river seeking a boat, but
there was no craft on the broad bosom of the stream. He bowed his head
in deep sorrow. Chao Yün bade him be of good courage seeing that he had
just escaped from the tiger’s jaws and had not far to go.
“I suspect Kʻung-ming has something prepared for us,” said he.
But his master was despondent. His thoughts were back to the pleasures
he had enjoyed but a few hours since in the house of his wife, and the
tears rolled down his cheeks. A poem has been written on this episode.
By the bank of the deep flowing Yangtse
Once was a wedding,
And the ruling houses of two states yet to be
Were allied by marriage.
See the beautiful maiden stepping slowly
To the golden bridal chamber!
Yet was the marriage but a ruse.
Its author vainly imagined that a hero,
Sinking in amorous toils,
Would forget his high intent and great resolve.
Yüan-tê bade the captain of his guard go along the bank to seek some
boats. Then the soldiers told him there was a huge cloud of dust on the
road. Ascending one of the hills he looked back whence they had come
and saw the whole earth as it were covered with an advancing host. He
sighed and said, “We have fled before them now for days, worn out our
men and jaded our horses, and all to die in a strange place.”
He watched them coming nearer and nearer. Then as things began to look
most desperate he saw a line of some twenty boats all in the act of
setting their sails.
“By good luck here are some ships,” said Chao Yün. “Let us get on
board, row to the further bank and see what can be done.”
Yüan-tê and his bride hastened down the bank and went into a ship. The
soldiers were embarked. Then they saw in the hold of the ship some one
in Taoist dress, who came up with a smile, saying, “My lord, again you
see Chuko Liang. He has waited a long time.”
All the men on board were from Chingchou, and Yüan-tê rejoiced at the
sudden happy turn of affairs.
Before long the pursuers reached the bank. Kʻung-ming pointed to them
and laughed, saying, “I foresaw this a long time ago. You may return
and tell your General not to use the fair damsel trick again.”
Those on the bank sent a flight of arrows at the ships but they were
already too far away. The four officers on the bank looked very
foolish.
As the boats were sailing along a great noise was heard on the river
behind them and there appeared a huge fleet of war ships, sailing under
the flag of Chou Yü. He also was there in command of the fleet and he
was supported by Huang Kai and Han Tang. They seemed like a drove of
horses and came along swift as a falling star. They gained on the
fugitives rapidly.
Kʻung-ming ordered the boats to row over to the north bank, and the
party landed. They had started off away from the shore before Chou Yü
could land. Chou Yü’s men, naturally, were all afoot but they kept up
the pursuit, following as quickly as they could. When they reached the
borders of Huangchou, Liu Pei and his party were not far away, and so
they pressed the pursuit. But there were only horses for a few in front
and suddenly the rolling of drums struck Chou Yü’s ears and from out a
gully dashed a troop of swordsmen led by Kuan Yü. Chou Yü was too
surprised and unprepared to do anything but flee.
Chou Yü fled for his life and Kuan Yü pursued. At different points
other captains came out and attacked, so that the men of Wu suffered a
great defeat and Chou Yü barely escaped. As he came to the river and
was going down into his ship the soldiers on the bank jeered at him on
account of the miscarriage of his scheme for the restoration of
tranquillity. All he had done was to give his enemy a wife and lose his
soldiers. He was so annoyed that he would have gone up the bank to
fight again, but his captains restrained him. He was very despondent
and felt ashamed to face his master and confess utter defeat and
failure.
All at once he cried aloud and fell back in a swoon. His wound had
re-opened. The captains came to his help but it was long before he
recovered consciousness.
Twice had he played his trick
And twice had he lost the game;
His heart was full of resentment,
He was overwhelmed with shame.
The fate of Chou Yü will appear in the next chapter.