Chapter XVI
A FEAT OF ARCHERY: A BATTLE LOST AT YUSHUI RIVER.
“What is your plan of attack on Liu Pei?” said Shu.
Yang Ta-chiang replied, “Though Liu Pei, now camped at Hsiaopʻei, could easily be taken, yet Lü Pu is strongly posted at the chief city near, and I think he would help Pei if it was only for the grudge he bears against you for not having given him the gold and stuffs, grain and horses you promised. First of all you should send Lü Pu a present whereby to engage his affections and keep him quiet while you deal with Liu Pei. You can see to Lü Pu after this is done.”
Thereupon a large quantity of millet was sent, with letters, by the hand of Han Yin. The gift pleased Lü Pu greatly; and he treated the messenger with great cordiality. Feeling sure of no trouble from that quarter Yüan Shu told off the leaders of the expedition against Hsiaopʻei.
When Liu Pei heard these things he called his officers to take counsel. Chang Fei was for open war forthwith. Sun Chʻien said their resources were too small: they must lay the position before Lü Pu and ask help.
“Do you think that fellow will do anything?” said Chang Fei cynically.
Liu Pei decided in favour of Sun’s proposal and wrote as follows:—
“Humbly I venture to remind you that I am here by your orders and enjoy repose as the result of your kindness, extensive as the heavens. Now Yüan Shu, moved by a desire for revenge, is sending a force against this place and its destruction is imminent unless you intervene to save it. I trust you will send an army quickly to protect the town, and our happiness will be inexpressible.”
Receiving this Lü Pu called in Chʻên Kung to whom he said, “I have just received gifts from Yüan Shu and a letter, with the intent of restraining me from helping Liu Pei. Now comes a letter from him asking help. It seems to me that Yüan-tê where he is can do me no harm, but if Yüan Shu overcomes Liu Pei then the power of the north is so much nearer and I should be unable to resist the attacks of so many leaders and should never sleep secure. I will aid Liu Pei; that is the better course for me.”
Now the force sent against Hsiaopʻei went thither as quickly as possible and soon the country to the southeast fluttered with pennons by day and blazed with watch fires by night, while the rolling of the drums reverberated from heaven to earth.
The few men at Liu Pei’s disposal were led out of the city and arranged to make a brave show, but it was good news to him to hear that Lü Pu had arrived and was quite near. He camped only a li away to the south-west. When Yüan Shu’s general, Chi Ling, heard of his arrival he wrote letters reproaching Lü Pu for his treachery. Lü Pu smiled as he read them.
“I know how to make both of them love me,” said he. So he sent invitations to both leaders to come to a banquet. Liu Pei was for accepting the invitation and going, but his brothers dissuaded him saying, “There is some treachery in his heart.”
“I have treated him too well for him to do me any harm,” said Yüan-tê.
So he mounted and rode away, the two brothers following. They came to the camp.
The host said, “Now by a special effort I have got you out of danger; I hope you will not forget that when you come into your own.”
Yüan-tê thanked him heartily and was invited to take a seat. The two brothers took up their usual place as guards.
But when Chi Ling was announced Yüan-tê felt a spasm of fear and got up to go away.
“You two are invited for the particular purpose of a discussion,” said the host. “Do not take it amiss.”
Yüan-tê, being quite ignorant of his intentions, was very uneasy. Presently his fellow guest entered. Seeing Yüan-tê in the tent, and in the seat of honour, he was puzzled, hesitated and tried to withdraw. But the attendants prevented this and Lü Pu, advancing, laid hold of him and drew him into the tent as he had been a child.
“Do you wish to slay me?” asked he.
“Not at all,” replied Lü Pu.
“Then you are going to slay Long-ears?”
“No; not that.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“Yüan-tê and I are brothers. Now, General, you are besieging him and so I have come to the rescue.”
“Then slay me,” said Chi Ling.
“There would be no sense in that. All my life I have disliked fighting and quarrels, but have loved making peace. And now I want to settle the quarrel between you two.”
“May I ask how you think of doing so?”
“I have a means and one approved of heaven itself.”
Then he drew Ling within the tent and led him up to Pei. The two men faced each other, full of mutual suspicion, but their host placed himself between them and they took their seats, Liu Pei on the right hand of the host.
The banquet began. After a number of courses almost in silence, Lü Pu spoke, saying, “I wish you two gentlemen to listen to me and put an end to your strife.”
Liu Pei made no reply but Chi Ling said, “I have come with an army of ten legions at the express bidding of my master to take Liu Pei. How can I cease the strife? I must fight.”
“What!” exclaimed Chang Fei drawing his sword. “Few as we are we regard you no more than a lot of children. What are you compared with a million Yellow Turbans? You dare to hurt our brother!”
Kuan Yü urged him to be silent. “Let us see what General Lü has to say first; after that there will be time to go to our tents and fight.”
“I beg you both to come to an understanding. I cannot let you fight,” said Lü Pu.
Now on one side Chi Ling was discontented and angry; on the other Chang Fei was dying for a fight and neither of the two chiefly concerned would signify assent. Then suddenly the host turned to his attendants saying, “Bring my halberd!” They did so and he sat there gripping the graceful but effective weapon in his right hand. Both guests felt very ill at ease and turned pale. Lü Pu went on, “I have tried to persuade you to make peace for that is the command of the Most High. It shall be put to the test.”
He then bade his servants take the halberd outside beyond the gate and set it up. Then speaking to his two guests he said, “That gate is one hundred and fifty paces distant. If I can hit that centre branch of the halberd-head with an arrow, you will both withdraw your armies. If I miss, you can go away and prepare for immediate battle. I shall compel you to abide by what I say.”
Chi Ling thought to himself, “That small mark at that distance! How could any one hit it?” So he assented, thinking he would have plenty of fighting after his host had missed the mark. Of course Liu Pei was willing.
They all sat down again and wine was served. When this had been drunk the host called for his bow and arrows. Yüan-tê silently prayed that he would hit the mark.
Lü Pu turned back his sleeves, carefully fitted an arrow to the string and pulled the bow to its utmost stretch. A slight exclamation escaped him as the bow curved like the harvest moon sailing through the sky. “Twang!” went the bowstring and the arrow sped like a falling star. And it struck the slender tongue of the halberd head full and square. A roar of acclamation from all sides greeted the exploit.
O Lü was a wonderful archer, And the arrow he shot sped straight; By hitting the mark he saved his friend That day at his yamên gate. Hou I, the archer of ancient days, Brought down each mocking sun, And the apes that gibbered to fright Yuchi Were slain by him, one by one. But we sing of Lü Pu that drew the bow, And his feathered shaft that flew; For a myriad men could doff their mail When he hit the mark so true.
Lü Pu laughed loud at the success of his shot. Dropping his bow he seized his guests by the hands saying, “The command of Heaven indeed! And now you cease from fighting!”
He ordered the soldier attendants to pour out great goblets of wine and each drank. Liu Pei in his inmost heart felt rather ashamed; his fellow guest sat silent, nodding his head. Presently he said, “I cannot disobey your command, General, but let me depart. What will my master say and will he believe me?”
“I will write a letter and confirm it,” said Lü Pu.
After a few more rounds of the wine Chi Ling asked that he might have the letter and after that departed. When the brothers took their leave Lü Pu again reminded Liu Pei that he owed him his deliverance.
In a short time the soldiers had gone. Here nothing will be said of the entry of two of the actors in the drama into their own towns. When Chi Ling had got back to Huainan and told the story of the feat of archery and the peace-making that followed, and had presented the letter, his lord was very wroth.
“He repays me for all my grain with this bit of play-acting!” cried he. “He has saved Liu Pei, but I will lead a large army myself and settle him, and take Lü Pu too.”
“Be careful, my lord,” said Chi Ling. “He is braver and stronger than most men and has wide territory. He and Liu Pei together make a powerful combination, not easy to break. But there is another course. I have found out that his wife, the lady Yen, has a daughter just of marriageable age and as you have a son, you could arrange a marriage alliance with Lü Pu. If his daughter wedded your son he would certainly slay your enemy for you. This is the nothing-can-separate-relations plan.”
This scheme appealed to Yüan Shu, who soon set about its accomplishment. He sent presents by the hand of Han Yin, who was to discuss the question. When Han saw Lü he spoke of the immense respect his master had for him and his desire to ensure perpetual alliance between the two families by a marriage, an alliance such as existed between the states Tsʻin and Chin.
Lü Pu was well disposed toward the scheme, but went in to consult his wife. Now Lü Pu had two wives and one concubine. He first married a lady of the Yen family and she was the legal wife. Then he took Little Cicada as a concubine, and while he was living at Hsiaopʻei he had married a secondary wife, a daughter of Tsʻao Pao. She had died quite young leaving no issue. Neither had his concubine borne any children. So that he had but one child, this daughter, of whom he was dotingly fond.
When he broached the subject his wife said, “The Yüan’s have dominated their part of the country these many years. They have a large army and are very prosperous. One day a Yüan will become Emperor and our daughter may hope to be an Empress. But how many sons has he?”
“Only this one.”
“Then we should accept the offer. Even if our daughter does not become an Empress, Hsüchou is nothing to be sad about.”
Lü Pu decided to accept and so treated the messenger with extreme generosity. Han Yin went back with a favourable answer. The wedding gifts were then prepared ready for Han Yin to take to the bride’s family. They were received and banquets and merry-making filled all the time.
One day Chʻên Kung went to see the messenger in his lodging, and when the usual ceremonies and greetings had been exchanged, the two men sat down to talk. When the servants had been sent out of earshot Chʻên Kung said, “Who originated this scheme by which Yüan Shu and Lü Pu are to become connections by this marriage so that Liu Pei’s head may fall?”
Han Yin was terrified. “I pray you not to let it get abroad,” said he.
“I certainly shall keep it secret. But if there be any delay some other person will find it out and that spells failure.”
“What had best be done?”
“I will see Lü Pu and get him to send the girl immediately so that the marriage may be concluded quickly.”
“If it happened thus my master would indeed hold you in high respect.”
With this Chʻên Kung took his leave and sought an interview with Lü Pu.
“I hear your daughter is to be married to Yüan Shu’s son. That is capital, but no one knows when.”
“That has yet to be considered.”
“There were certain fixed rules as to the period between sending presents and consummation of the marriage; Emperors, a year; nobles, half a year; high officers, three months; and common people, one month.”
Lü Pu replied, “As to Yüan Kung-lu, Heaven has already put into his hands one Imperial jewel and he will surely arrive at the dignity one day. So, I should think the Imperial rule would apply.”
“No; it will not.”
“The nobles’ rule, then?”
“No; nor that.”
“The high officers’?”
“Not even that.”
Lü Pu laughed. “Then you mean me to go by the rule for common people.”
“Nor that either.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“In the midst of the present troubles, when there is great rivalry between the nobles, do you not see that the others will be exceedingly jealous of your marriage alliance with such a family as the Yüans? Suppose you postpone the choice of the day, most likely when your fine morning arrives the wedding party will fall into an ambush on the road and the bride be carried off. Then what could be done? My opinion is that you would have done better to refuse. But since you have consented, then carry out the plan at once before the lords hear of it and so send the girl over without delay to Shouchʻun. You can hire a lodging there till you have selected the wedding day and the odds are greatly against any failure.”
“What you say is quite to the point,” replied Lü.
He went into the private apartments to see his wife and told her the bride elect would set out immediately and the trousseau was to be prepared as far as it could be. On his side he chose some good horses and had a wedding carriage got ready. The escort consisted of Han Yin and two military officers. The procession went out of the city to the sound of music.
Now at this time Chʻên Kuei, father of Chʻên Têng (Yüan-lung) was placidly waiting till the evening of his life passed into night. Hearing this burst of music he enquired the occasion and the servants told him.
“They are working on the ‘Relatives-are-inseparable’ device, then,” said he. “Yüan-tê is in danger.”
Thereupon in spite of his many infirmities he went to see Lü Pu.
“Noble Sir, what brings you here?” asked Lü.
“I heard you were dead and I came to mourn,” quavered the old man.
“Who said that?” exclaimed his host.
“Once upon a time you received grand presents from the Yüan’s that you might slay Liu Pei, but you got out by that clever shot at your halberd. Now they suddenly seek a marriage alliance thinking to get hold of your daughter as a pledge. The next move will be an attack on Hsiaopʻei and, that gone, where are you? Whatever they ask in future, grain or men or anything else, and you yield, will bring your own end nearer, and make you hated all round. If you refuse, then you are false to the duties of a relative and that will be an excuse to attack you openly. Beside this Yüan Shu intends to call himself Emperor, which would be rebellion, and you would be of the rebel’s family; something abominable, which the Empire would not suffer.”
Lü Pu was much disturbed to hear this. “I have been misled!” cried he.
So he hurriedly sent Chang Liao to bring the wedding party back to the city. When they had come he threw Han Yin into prison and sent a reply to Yüan Shu saying curtly that the girl’s trousseau was not ready and she could not be married till it was.
Han Yin was sent back to the capital. Lü Pu was hesitating what course to adopt, when he heard that Liu Pei was enlisting soldiers and buying horses for no apparent reason.
“He is simply doing his duty; there is nothing to be surprised at,” said Lü Pu.
Then came two officers saying, “As you ordered us we went into Shantung to purchase horses. We had got three hundred when, on our way back, on the borders of Peihsien some robbers stole half of them. We hear that the real robbers were Chang Fei and his men, who took on the guise of brigands.”
Lü Pu was very angry at this and began to prepare an expedition against Hsiaopʻei. When Liu Pei heard that an attack threatened he led out his army to oppose it and the two armies were arrayed. Liu Pei rode to the front and said, “Elder brother, why have you brought an army against me?”
Lü Pu began abusing him saying, “That shot of mine at the yamên gate saved you from grave danger; why then did you steal my horses?”
“I wanted horses and I sent out to buy them. Should I dare to take yours?” said Liu.
“You stole a hundred and fifty in the person of your brother Chang Fei. You only used another man’s hand.”
Thereupon Chang Fei, with his spear in rest, rode out saying, “Yes; I stole your good horses, and what more do you expect?”
Lü Pu replied, “You goggled-eyed thief! You are always treating me with contempt.”
“Yes; I took your horses and you get angry. You did not say any thing when you stole my brother’s city.”
Lü Pu rode forward to give battle and Chang Fei advanced. A reckless fight began and the two warriors kept it up for a hundred bouts without a decisive stroke. Then Liu Pei, fearing some accident to his brother, hastily beat the gongs as a signal to retire and led his army into the city. Lü Pu then invested it.
Liu Pei called his brother and chid him as the cause of all this misfortune.
“Where are the horses?” said he.
“In some of the temples and courts,” replied Fei.
A messenger was sent out to speak softly and offer to restore the stolen horses if hostilities were to cease. Lü Pu was disposed to agree but Chʻên Kung opposed. “You will suffer by and by if you do not remove this Liu Pei.”
Under his influence the request for peace was rejected and the attack on the city pressed harder.
Liu Pei called Mi Chu and Sun Chʻien to him to ask advice.
Said the latter, “The one person that Tsʻao Tsʻao detests is Lü Pu. Let us then abandon the city and take refuge with Tsʻao Tsʻao, from whom we may borrow men to destroy him.”
“If we try to get away, who will lead the van?”
“I will do my best,” said Chang Fei.
So he led the way. Kuan Yü was rearguard and in the centre was Liu Pei with the non-fighting portion. The cavalcade started and went out at the north gate. They met some opposition but the soldiers were driven off and the besieging force was passed without difficulty. Chang Liao pursued, but was held off by the rearguard. It seemed Lü Pu was not dissatisfied at the flight for he took no personal trouble to prevent it. He made formal entry into the city, settled local affairs and appointed a governor.
Liu Pei approached Hsütu and encamped outside the city, whence he sent Sun Chʻien to see Tsʻao Tsʻao and relate the events that brought him there. Tsʻao was very friendly and said, “Liu Pei is as my brother.” He invited him to enter the city.
Leaving his brothers at the camp Liu Pei, with Sun Chʻien and Mi Chu, went to Tsʻao Tsʻao, who received him with the greatest respect. The story of Lü Pu’s perfidy was again related.
“He has no sense of right,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao. “You and I, my brother, will attack him together.”
Yüan-tê was very grateful. A banquet was then prepared and it was late evening before the visitor left for his own camp.
Hsün Yü then had an interview with his master and said, “If you are not on your guard Liu Pei will be your undoing. You ought to destroy him. He is too much of the hero.”
Tsʻao made no reply and his adviser retired. Presently Kuo Chia came and Tsʻao Tsʻao said, “I have been advised to kill Liu Pei; what of such a scheme?”
“A bad scheme,” said Kuo. “You are the popular champion, pledged to relieve the people from oppression and only by truth and rectitude can you secure the support of the noble-minded. Your only fear is lest they stay away. Now Liu Pei is famous. He has come to you for help and protection and to put him to death would be to alienate all good men and put fear into the hearts of all the able advisers. Hampered by these difficulties where will you find those whose help you need? To remove the dangers represented by one man and thereby injure yourself in the eyes of all mankind is a sure means of destruction. These conditions need careful consideration.”
“What you say exactly fits in with what I think,” said Tsʻao, greatly pleased with these remarks.
His next step was to memorialise the Emperor to give Liu Pei the governorship of Yüchou.
Again Chʻêng Yü said, “Liu Pei is certain to rise to the top; he will never remain in a subordinate position. You had better remove him.”
“Now is just the time to make use of good men. I will not forfeit the regard of the world for the sake of removing one individual. Kuo Fêng-hsiao and I both see this in the same light.”
Wherefore he rejected all persuasion to work against Liu Pei but sent him soldiers and a large supply of grain, and set him on his way to Yü (Honan). He was to march to Hsiaopʻei, occupy it, call together his former soldiers and attack Lü Pu.
When Liu Pei reached Yüchou he sent to inform Tsʻao Tsʻao, who prepared to march an army to subjugate Lü Pu. But just then hasty news came that Chang Chi, who had gone to the attack of Nanyang, had been wounded by a stray arrow and had died. His nephew Hsiu had succeeded to the command of his army and with Chia Hsü as strategist, had joined Liu Piao and camped at Wanchʻêng. They intended to attack the capital and get possession of the Emperor’s person.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was placed in a quandary. He would go to attack this combination but he feared lest Lü Pu would attack the capital if he left it. So he sought the advice of Hsün Yü.
“Lü Pu has no notion of a policy. He is led astray by any little advantage that presents itself to his eyes. All you need do is to obtain promotion for him, giving him some additional title, and tell him to make peace with Yüan-tê and he will do it.”
“Good,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao and he acted upon the hint and sent an officer with the official announcement and a letter urging peace, while he went on with preparations to meet the other danger. When ready he marched out in three divisions. Hsiahou Tun was the van-leader and they went to Yüshui River and camped there.
Chia Hsü succeeded in persuading Chang Hsiu of the hopelessness of resistance.
“You would do well to surrender since his army is too large for you to oppose,” said he.
Seeing the truth of this Hsiu sent his adviser to propose submission. Tsʻao Tsʻao was greatly pleased with the messenger, admiring his ready and fluent repartee, and tried to win him to his service.
“I was formerly with Li Tsʻui and was held guilty with him. Now I am with Chang who accepts my advice and I should not like to abandon him,” said Chia Hsü.
He left and next day conducted his master into Tsʻao Tsʻao’s presence. Tsʻao was generous. Then he entered Wanchʻêng, the greater part of the army being put in camp outside where the lines extended some ten li. Great banquets were given every day and Tsʻao Tsʻao was always being entertained.
One day, when Tsʻao Tsʻao returned to his quarters in a more than usual merry mood, he asked the attendants if there were any singing girls in the city. The son of his elder brother heard the question and said, “Peeping through one of the partitions last evening I saw a perfectly beautiful woman in one of the courts. They told me she was the wife of Chang Hsiu’s uncle. She is very lovely.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao, inflamed by the description given him of the beauty, told his nephew to go and bring her to visit him. He did so supported by an armed escort and very soon the woman stood before him.
She was a beauty indeed and Tsʻao Tsʻao asked her name. She replied, “Thy handmaid was wife to Chang Chi; I was born of the Tsou family.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I have known the Minister by reputation a long time. I am happy to see him and be permitted to bow before him,” said she.
“It was for your sake that I allowed Chang Hsiu to submit; otherwise I would have slain him and cut him off root and branch,” said Tsʻao.
“Indeed, then, I owe my very life to you; I am very grateful,” said she.
“To see you is a glimpse of paradise, but there is one thing I should like better. Stay here and go with me to the capital where I will see that you are properly cared for. What do you say to that?”
She could but thank him.
“But Chang Hsiu will greatly wonder at my prolonged absence and gossips will begin to talk,” said she.
“If you like you can leave the city to-morrow.”
She did so, but instead of going at once to the capital she stayed with him among the tents, where Tien Wei was appointed as a special guard over her apartments. Tsʻao was the only person whom she saw and he passed the days in idle dalliance with the lady, quite content to let time flow by.
But Chang’s people told him what had gone amiss and he was angry at the shame brought upon the family. He confided his trouble to Chia Hsü who said, “Keep this secret, wait till he appears again to carry on business and then....”
A plan was arranged quite secretly.
Not long after this Chang Hsiu went into Tsʻao Tsʻao’s tent to say that, as many of his men were deserting, it would be well to camp them in the centre and when permission was given the men of his old command were moved in and placed in four camps.
But Tien Wei, the especial guard of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s tent, was a man to be feared, being both brave and powerful. It was hard to know how to attack him. So counsel was taken with an officer, Hu Chʻêrh, a man of enormous strength and activity. He could carry a burden of six hundred pounds and travel seven hundred li in a day. He proposed a plan. He said, “The fearsome thing about Tien Wei is his double halberd. But get him to come to a party and make him quite drunk before you send him back. I will mingle among his escort and so get into his tent and steal away his weapon. One need not fear him then.”
So the necessary arms were prepared and orders given in the various camps. This done the intended victim was invited and plied vigorously with wine so that he was quite intoxicated when he left. And, as arranged, the officer mingled with his escort and made away with his weapons.
That night, when Tsʻao Tsʻao was at supper with the lady, he heard the voices of men and neighing of horses and sent out to ask what it meant. They told him it was the night patrol going the rounds and he was satisfied.
Near the second watch of the night again was heard some noise in the rear of his tent and one of the fodder carts was reported to be burning.
“One of the men has dropped a spark; there is nothing to be alarmed at,” said he.
But very soon the fire spread on all sides and became alarming. He called Tien Wei. But he, usually so alert, was lying down quite intoxicated.
However, the beating of gongs and rolling of drums mingling with his dreams awoke him and he jumped up. His trusty halberd had disappeared. The enemy was near. He hastily snatched up an infantryman’s sword and rushed out. At the gate he saw a crowd of spearmen just bursting in. Tien Wei rushed at them slashing all around him and a score or more fell beneath his blows. The others drew back. But the spears stood around him like reeds on the river bank. Being totally without mail he was soon wounded in several places. He fought desperately till his sword snapped and was no longer of any use. Throwing it aside he seized a couple of soldiers and with their bodies as weapons felled half a score of his opponents. The others dared not approach, but they shot arrows at him. These fell thick as rain but he still maintained the gate against the assailants.
However, the mutineers got in by the rear of the camp and one of them wounded him in the back with a spear thrust. Uttering a loud cry he fell. The blood gushed from the wound in torrents and he died. Even after he was dead not a man dared to come in by the main gate.
Tsʻao Tsʻao, relying on Tien Wei to hold the main gate, had fled in haste by the rear gate. His nephew accompanied him on foot. Then Tsʻao was wounded by an arrow in the arm and three arrows struck his horse. However, fortunately, the horse was a fine beast from Tawan full of spirit and, in spite of his wounds, he bore his master swiftly and well as far as the Yüshui River.
Here some of the pursuers came up and his nephew was hacked to pieces. Tsʻao Tsʻao dashed into the river and reached the further side, but there an arrow struck his steed in the eye and he fell. Tsʻao Tsʻao’s eldest son dismounted and yielded his horse to his father, who galloped on. His son was killed but he himself got away. Soon after he met several of his officers who had rallied a few soldiers.
The soldiers under Hsiahou Tun seized the occasion to plunder the people. Yü Chin took his men fell upon them and slew many. Thus he protected and appeased the people. The plunderers, meeting Tsʻao Tsʻao on the road, knelt down howling and said Yü Chin had mutinied and attacked them. Tsʻao Tsʻao was surprised and when he met Hsiahou Tun, gave orders to attack Yü Chin.
Now when Yü Chin saw his master and a great company approaching he at once stopped the attack and set his men to make a camp. Hsün Yü asked him why.
“The Chingchou soldiers say you have turned traitor; why do you not explain now that the Minister has arrived? Why first make a camp?” said he.
He replied, “Our enemies are coming up in our rear and are very close. It is necessary to prepare for defence or we shall not withstand them. Explanation is a small matter, but defence is very important.”
Soon after the camp was finished Chang Hsiu fell upon them in two divisions. Yü Chin himself rode out to face them. Chang drew back. The other leader, seeing Yü Chin advance thus boldly, also attacked and Chang Hsiu was overcome. They pursued him a great distance until his force was almost annihilated. With the miserable remnant he finally fled to Liu Piao.
Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army reformed and the captains mustered. Then Yü Chin went to see his master and told him of the conduct of the Chingchou soldiers and their looting and why he had attacked them.
“Why did you not tell me before you made the camp?”
Yü Chin related what had occurred.
Said Tsʻao, “When the first thought of a leader in the time of greatest stress is to maintain order and strengthen his defences, giving no thought to slander but shouldering his burdens manfully, and when he thereby turns a defeat into a victory, who, even of the ancient leaders, can excel him?”
He rewarded Yü Chin with a service of plate and a marquisate. But he reprimanded Hsiahou Tun for his lack of discipline.
Sacrifices in honour of the dead warrior Tien Wei were instituted. Tsʻao himself led the wailing and paid due honours. Turning to his officers he said, “I have lost my first born son, but I grieve not so heavily for him as for Tien Wei. I weep for him.”
All were sad at the loss of this captain. Then orders were issued to return but nothing will be said here of the march to the capital.
When Wang Tsê, bearing the imperial decree, reached Hsüchou, he was met by Lü Pu, who conducted him into the residence where the decree was read. It conferred the title General, “Pacificator of the East,” and a special seal accompanied the mandate. The private letter was also handed over and the messenger detailed the high appreciation in which Lü was held by the chief Minister of State.
Next came news that a messenger from Yüan Shu had arrived. When he had been introduced he said that Shu’s project of declaring himself Emperor was advancing. He had already built a palace and would speedily choose an Empress and concubines and would come to Huainan.
“Has the rebel gone so far?” cried Lü Pu in a rage.
He put the messenger to death and Han Yin into the cangue. He drafted a memorial of thanks and sent it to the capital, at the same time sending, too, Han Yin, the unfortunate agent who had arranged the marriage alliance. He also replied to Tsʻao Tsʻao’s private letter asking to be confirmed in his governorship.
Tsʻao was pleased to hear of the rupture of the marriage arrangement, and forthwith put Han Yin to death in the market place.
However, Chʻên Têng sent a secret remonstrance to Tsʻao Tsʻao, vilifying Lü Pu as cruel, stupid and facile and advising his destruction.
“I know Lü Pu quite well,” said Tsʻao. “He is a wolf with a savage heart, and it will be hard to feed him for long. If it had not been for you and your father I should not have known all the circumstances and you must help me to get rid of him.”
“Anything the Minister wishes to do shall have my assistance,” was the reply.
As a reward Tsʻao Tsʻao obtained a grant of grain for the father and a prefecture for the son, who then took his leave. As he was saying farewell Tsʻao took him by the hand saying, “I shall depend upon you in the eastern affair.”
Chʻên Têng nodded acquiescence. Then he returned to Lü Pu, who asked him how he had fared. Chʻên told him of the gifts to his father, which annoyed Pu.
“You did not ask Hsüchou for me, but you got something for yourself. Your father advised me to help Tsʻao Tsʻao by breaking off the marriage, and now I get nothing at all of what I asked while you and your father get everything. I have been victimised by your father.”
He threatened Chʻên with his sword.
Chʻên Têng only laughed saying, “O how stupid you are, General!”
“I! How stupid?”
“When I saw Tsʻao, I said that to keep you going was like feeding a tiger. The tiger must be kept fully fed or he would eat men. But Tsʻao laughed and replied, ‘No; not that. One must treat the marquis like a falcon. Not feed it till the foxes and hares are done. Hungry, the bird is of use; full fed it flies away.’ I asked who were the quarry. He replied ‘Yüan Shu, Sun Tsʻê, Yüan Shao, Liu Piao, Liu Chang and Chang Lu; these are the foxes and hares.’”
Lü Pu threw aside his sword and laughed, saying, “Yes; he understands me.”
But just about that time came news of the advance of Yüan Shu on Hsüchou and that frightened Lü Pu.
When discord rose ’twixt Tsʻin and Chin, They were attacked by Yüeh and Wu, And when a promised bride ne’er came, An army marched to enforce the claim.
How all this fell out will be shown in the next chapter.
Chapter XVII
AN ARMY OF SEVEN DIVISIONS MARCHES OUT: THREE GENERALS ARE BROUGHT TOGETHER.
Huainan was very fruitful, and Yüan Shu, as governor of such a large district, was very influential. He was not a little puffed up. The possession of the Imperial seal, pledged by Sun Tsʻê, added to his pride. And he seriously thought of assuming the full style. As a preliminary he assembled all his officers and addressed them thus:—
“Of old Kao-Tsu, Founder of the Dynasty of Han, was only a very minor official and yet he became ruler of the Empire. The Dynasty has endured four centuries and its measure of fortune has run out. It no longer possesses authority; the cauldron is on the point of boiling over. My family has held the highest offices of State for four generations and is universally respected. Wherefore I wish, in response to the will of Heaven and the desire of the people, to assume the Imperial dignity. What think ye of the proposal, my officers?”
The Recorder, Yen Hsiang, rose in opposition at once. “You may not do this. Hou Chi, the Minister of the Chou Dynasty, was of distinguished virtue and held many offices, till in the time of Wên Wang he had two thirds of the Empire. Still he served and was loyal to the Yin Dynasty. Your house is honourable, but it is not so glorious as that of Chou. The Hans may be reduced, but they are not so abominably cruel as Tsou of the Yins. Indeed this should not be done.”
Yüan Shu did not hear this with pleasure. “We Yüans came from Chʻên and he was a descendant of Shun (the Emperor). By the rule of interpreting the signs of fate the day has come when earth receives fire. Beside there is an oracle saying, ‘He who replaces the Hans must wade through deep mire.’ My name means ‘the high road.’ It fits exactly. Further than this, I possess the hereditary seal of State and must become lord of all or I turn from Heaven’s own way. Finally I have made up my mind, so if any one says too much he will simply suffer death.”
He arrogated himself the insignia of royalty. He set up officials with titles only given by an Emperor, and rode in a carriage decorated with the dragon and phœnix and offered sacrifices after the manner of an Emperor in the north and south suburbs. Also he appointed an “Empress” and an “Heir Apparent” (in the Eastern Palace) and pressed for the early wedding of Lü Pu’s daughter with his son that the palace entourage might be complete.
But when he heard of the fate of his marriage ambassador he was very angry and began at once to plan for revenge. Chang Hsün was made Generalissimo having under his command more than twenty legions, in seven divisions under so many commanders, and each of these was instructed to make a certain town his objective. The Governor of Yenchou, Chin Shang, was ordered to superintend the commissariat, but he declined the office and so was put to death. Chi Ling was in command of the reserves to help wherever he was required. Yüan Shu led three legions and he appointed three tried officers to go up and down and see that the various armies did not lag behind.
Lü Pu found out from his scouts that his own city was Chang Hsün’s objective; the other towns to be first attacked being Hsiaopʻei, Itu, Langya, Chiehshih, Hsiapʻei and Chünshan. The armies were marching fifty li a day, and plundering the countryside as they advanced.
He summoned his advisers to a council to which came Chʻên Kung, Chʻên Têng and his father. When all had assembled Chʻên Kung said, “This misfortune that has come to us is due to the two Chʻêns, who fawned upon the central government in order to obtain rank and appointments. Now remove the evil by putting these two to death and sending their heads to our enemy. Then he will retire and leave us in peace.”
Lü Pu acquiesced and had the two arrested. But the son, Chʻên Têng, only laughed. “What is this anxiety about?” said he. “These seven armies are no more to me than so many heaps of rotting straw. They are not worth thinking about.”
“If you can show us how to overcome them I will spare your life,” said Lü.
“General, if you will listen to a poor stupid fool the city will be perfectly safe.”
“Let us hear what you have to say.”
“Yüan Shu’s men are numerous but they are only a flock of crows; they are not an army under a leader. There is no mutual confidence. I can keep them at bay with the ordinary guards of the place and could overcome them by some unsuspected stratagem. If I should fail I have another plan by which I can not only protect the city but capture our enemy.”
“Let us have it.”
“Han Hsien and Yang Fêng, two of the leaders of our enemies, are old servants of the Han dynasty who fled from fear of Tsʻao Tsʻao and, being homeless, sought refuge with Yüan Shu. He despises them and they are dissatisfied with his service. A little letter will secure their help as our allies, and with Liu Pei to help us on the outside we can certainly overcome Yüan.”
“You shall take the letters yourself,” said Lü.
He agreed and a memorial detailing his intentions was sent to the capital, letters to Yüchou to Liu Pei, and finally Chʻên Têng was sent, with a small escort, to wait for Han Hsien on the road to Hsiapʻei. When Han Hsien’s army had halted and pitched camp Chʻên Têng went to see Han Hsien who said, “What are you here for? You belong to Lü Pu.”
“I am a noble of the Court of the great Hans. Why do you call me a Lü Pu’s man? If you, General, hitherto a Minister of State, now serve a traitor you nullify the grand services you rendered in protecting the Emperor and I despise you. Beside the suspicious Yüan Shu will assuredly do you some harm and you will regret not having taken this opportunity to work against him.”
Han Hsien sighed. “I would return to my allegiance if there should be any opportunity.”
Thereupon Chʻên Têng gave him the letter. Han read it and said, “Yes; I know. You may return to your master and say General Yang and I will turn our weapons and smite him. Look out for a signal-flare and let your master come to our aid.”
As soon as Chʻên Têng had got back and reported his success, Lü Pu divided his men into five divisions and sent them to five points to meet his enemies. He himself led against the main body under Chang Hsün, leaving a guard in the city.
Lü Pu camped thirty li from the walls. When the enemy came up their leader thought Lü Pu too strong to attack with the force he had, so he retired twenty li to await reinforcements.
That night, in the second watch, Han Hsien and Yang Fêng arrived and soon the flare was lighted as arranged. Lü Pu’s men were admitted to the camp and caused great confusion. Then Lü Pu himself attacked and Chang Hsün was routed and fled. Lü Pu pursued till daylight when he fell in with one of the other bodies led by Chi Ling. Both sides faced each other, but at the very beginning of the engagement the two traitors also attacked and Chi Ling was forced to fly.
Lü Pu went in pursuit but soon another force came out from the rear of some hills. These looked very imposing. As the ranks opened he saw a leader’s guard with flags bearing dragons and phœnixes and representations of the sun and moon, the four “measures,” [8] the five directions, [9] golden gourds, silver axes, yellow halberds, white yaks’ tails, all Imperial emblems. And beneath a yellow silken parasol sat Yüan Shu on horseback, clad in silver mail with a sword handle showing at each wrist.
Standing out in front of the array he railed at his opponent calling him traitor and slave. Lü Pu said nothing but rode forward ready for battle and Li Fêng, one of Yüan’s leaders, advanced to take the challenge. They met, but at the third bout, Li was wounded in the hand, whereupon his spear fell to the ground and he fled. Lü Pu waved on the advance and his men prevailed. The other side fled, leaving much spoil, clothing, mail and horses.
Yüan Shu’s defeated men had not gone far when a strong troop, led by Kuan Yü, appeared barring his way.
“Traitor! why have they not slain you?” cried Kuan Yü.
Whereat Yüan Shu fled in great trepidation and his army melted into fugitives in all directions. The new army fell upon them with great slaughter. Yüan Shu and the remnant of his army retreated into Huainan.
Victory being now secure, Lü Pu, in company with Kuan Yü, Yang Fêng and Han Hsien returned to Hsüchou, where there were banquets and feastings and rewards for the soldiers. These over, Kuan took his leave and returned to his brother, while Han Hsien was appointed magistrate of Itu and his friend magistrate of Langya.
There had been a question of keeping these two in Hsüchou but Chʻên Kuei opposed it. “Let them hold those places in Shantung, which will be all yours within a year.” So they were sent to these two cities in the meantime to await orders.
“Why not retain them here?” asked Chʻên Têng secretly of his father. “They would be a basis for our conspiracy against Lü Pu.”
“But if they helped him, on the other hand, we should lengthen the tiger’s claws and teeth,” said his father.
So Têng could only approve of his father’s precautions.
Yüan Shu returned home burning to avenge his defeat, so he sent to Chiangtung to ask a loan of men from Sun Tsʻê. Tsʻê said, “On the strength of holding the State Seal he secretly calls himself Emperor and rebels against the Hans. I would rather punish such a renegade than help him.”
So he refused. The letter refusing help added to Yüan’s anger. “What next from this callow youth?” cried he. “I will smite him before I deal with the other.”
But Yang Ta-chiang dissuaded him from this course.
Having refused help to his powerful rival Sun Tsʻê thought it wise to take measures for his own safety. So he stationed an army at Chiangkʻou. Soon after came a messenger from Tsʻao Tsʻao bearing his appointment as Prefect of Kueichi with orders to raise an army and reduce Yüan Shu.
Sun Tsʻê was inclined to carry out these orders but he called a council at which Chang Chao opposed this course. Said he, “Although recently defeated Yüan Shu has many men and ample supplies. He is not to be attacked lightly. You had better write to Tsʻao Tsʻao persuading him to attack the south and we will be auxiliaries. Between the two armies Shu must certainly be defeated. If by the remotest chance we lose, we have Tsʻao Tsʻao to come to our rescue.”
This plan was adopted and a messenger was sent to lay it before Tsʻao. In the meantime Tsʻao had reached Hsütu where his first thought was to institute sacrifices to his beloved lost leader Tien Wei. He conferred rank upon his son Tien Man and took him into his own palace to be cared for.
Presently arrived Sun Tsʻê’s messenger with letters and next came a report that Yüan Shu, being short of food, had made a raid on Chʻên-liu. Tsʻao thought the moment opportune, so he issued orders for the expedition south, leaving Tsʻao Jên to hold the city. The army marched, horse and foot, seventeen legions, with commissariat waggons of food to the number of over a thousand. Messages were sent to summon Sun Tsʻê, Liu Pei and Lü Pu to assemble on the Yüchang borders.
Liu Pei was the first to arrive and he was called in to the Minister’s tent. After the usual salutations two human heads were produced.
“Whose are these?” asked Tsʻao in surprise.
“The heads of Han Hsien and Yang Fêng.”
“Why did this happen?”
“They were sent to control Itu and Langya and allowed their soldiers to plunder the people. Bitter complaints arose so I invited them to a banquet and my brothers despatched them when I gave the signal by dropping a cup. Their men gave in at once and now I have to apologise for my fault.”
“You have removed an evil, which is a grand service: why talk of a fault?”
And he praised Yüan-tê’s action.
When the joint army reached Lü Pu’s borders he came to meet it. Tsʻao Tsʻao spoke graciously to him and conferred upon him the title of Generalissimo of the Left, promising him a suitable seal as soon as he returned to the capital. Lü Pu was very pleased.
Then the three armies were made into one force, Tsʻao Tsʻao being in the centre and the other two on the wings. Hsiahou Tun and Yü Chin were leaders of the van.
On Yüan Shu’s side Chʻiao Sui with five legions was appointed van leader. The armies met on the confines of Shouchʻun. The two van leaders rode out and opened battle. Chʻiao Sui fell in the third bout and his men fled into the city.
Then came news that Sun Tsʻê’s fleet was near and would attack on the west. The other three land corps took each one face and the city was in a parlous state.
At this juncture Yüan Shu summoned his officers. Yang Ta-chiang explained the case, “Shouchʻun has suffered from drought for several years and the people are on the verge of famine. Sending an army would add to the distress and anger the people, and victory would be uncertain. I advise not to send any more soldiers there, but to hold on till the besiegers are conquered by lack of supplies. Our noble chief, with his regiment of guards, will move over to the other side of the river, which is quite ready, and we shall also escape the enemy’s ferocity.”
So due arrangements being made to guard Shouchʻun a general move was made to the other side of the Huai River. Not only the army went over but all the accumulated wealth of the Yüan family, gold and silver, jewels and precious stones, were moved.
Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army of seventeen legions needed daily no inconsiderable quantity of food, and as the country around had been famine-stricken for several years nothing could be got there. So he tried to hasten the military operations and capture the city. On the other hand, the defenders knew the value of delay and simply held on. After a month’s vigorous siege the fall of the city seemed as far off as it was at first and supplies were very short. Letters were sent to Sun Tsʻê who sent a hundred thousand measures of grain. When the usual distribution became impossible the Chief of the Commissariat, Jên Hsün, and the Controller of the Granaries, Wang Hou, presented a statement asking what was to be done.
“Serve out with a smaller measure,” said Tsʻao. “That will save us for a time.”
“But if the soldiers murmur, what then?”
“I shall have another device.”
As ordered the controllers issued grain in a short measure. Tsʻao sent secretly to find out how the men took this and when he found that complaints were general and they were saying that he was fooling them, he sent a secret summons to the controller. When he came Tsʻao said, “I want to ask you to lend me something to pacify the soldiers with. You must not refuse.”
“What does the Minister wish?”
“I want the loan of your head to expose to the soldiery.”
“But I have done nothing wrong!” exclaimed the unhappy man.
“I know that, but if I do not put you to death there will be a mutiny. After you are gone your wife and children shall be my care. So you need not grieve on their account.”
Wang Hou was about to remonstrate further but Tsʻao Tsʻao gave a signal, the executioners hustled him out and he was beheaded. His head was exposed on a tall pole and a notice said that in accordance with military law Wang Hou had been put to death for peculation and the use of a short measure in issuing grain.
This appeased the discontent. Next followed a general order threatening death to the various commanders if the city was not taken within three days. Tsʻao Tsʻao in person went up to the very walls to superintend the work of filling up the moat. The defenders kept up constant showers of stones and arrows. Two inferior officers, who left their stations in fear, were slain by Tsʻao Tsʻao himself. Thereafter he went on foot to see that work went on continuously and no one dared be a laggard. Thus encouraged the army became invincible and no defence could withstand their onslaught. In a very short time the walls were scaled, the gates battered in and the besiegers were in possession. The officers of the garrison were captured alive and were executed in the market place. All the paraphernalia of imperial state were burned and the whole city wrecked.
When the question of crossing the river in pursuit of Yüan Shu came up Hsün Yü opposed it saying, “The country has suffered from short crops for years and we should be unable to get grain. An advance would weary the army, harm the people and possibly end in disaster. I advise a return to the capital to wait there till the spring wheat shall have been harvested and we have plenty of food.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao hesitated and before he had made up his mind there came an urgent message saying Chang Hsiu, with the support of Liu Piao, was ravaging the country all round, that there was rebellion in Nanyang and Tsʻao Hung could not cope with it. He had been worsted already in several engagements and was in sore straits.
Tsʻao Tsʻao at once wrote to Sun Tsʻê to command the river so as to prevent any move on the part of Liu Piao, while he prepared his army to go to deal with Chang Hsiu. Before marching he directed Liu Pei to camp at Hsiaopʻei, as he and Lü Pu, being as brothers, might help each other.
When Lü Pu had left for Hsüchou Tsʻao Tsʻao said secretly to Yüan-tê, “I am leaving you at Hsiaopʻei as a pitfall for the tiger. You will only take advice from the two Chʻêns and there can be no mishap. You will find so-and-so your ally when needed.”
So Tsʻao Tsʻao marched to Hsütu where he heard that Tuan Wei had slain Li Tsʻui and Wu Hsi had killed Kuo Ssŭ and they presented the heads of these two. Beside the whole clan of Li Tsʻui had been arrested and brought to the capital. They were all put to death at various gates and their heads exposed. People thought this very harsh dealing.
In the Emperor’s palace a large number of officials were assembled at a peace banquet. The two successful leaders Tuan and Wu were rewarded with titles and sent to guard Chʻangan. They came to audience to express their gratitude and marched away.
Then Tsʻao Tsʻao sent in a memorial that Chang Hsiu was in rebellion and an army must be sent against him. The Emperor in person arranged the chariot and escorted his Minister out of the city when he went to take command of the expedition. It was the summer, the fourth month of the third year of the period Chien-An (199 A.D.). Hsün Yü was in chief military command in Hsütu.
The army marched away. In the course of the march they passed through a wheat district and the grain was ready for harvesting but the peasants had fled for fear and the corn was uncut. Tsʻao Tsʻao caused it to be made known all about that he was sent on the expedition by command of the Emperor to capture a rebel and save the people. He could not avoid moving in the harvest season but if any one trampled down the corn he should be put to death. Military law was so severe that the people need fear no damage. The people were very pleased and lined the road, wishing success to the expedition. When the soldiers passed wheatfields they dismounted and pushed aside the stalks so that none were trampled down.
One day, when Tsʻao Tsʻao was riding through the fields, a dove suddenly got up, startling the horse so that he swerved into the standing grain and a large patch was trampled down. Tsʻao at once called the Provost Marshal and bade him decree the sentence for the crime of trampling down corn.
“How can I deal with your crime?” asked the Provost Marshal.
“I made the rule and I have broken it. Can I otherwise satisfy public opinion?”
He laid hold of the sword by his side and made to take his own life. All hastened to prevent him and Kuo Chia said, “In ancient days, the days of the Spring and Autumn history, the laws were not applied to the persons of the most honourable. You are the supreme leader of a mighty army and must not wound yourself.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao pondered for a long time. At last he said, “Since there exists the reason just quoted I may perhaps escape the death penalty.”
Then with his sword he cut off his hair and threw it on the ground saying, “I cut off the hair as touching the head.”
Then he sent a man to exhibit the hair throughout the whole army saying, “The Minister, having trodden down some corn, ought to have lost his head by the terms of the order; now here is his hair cut off as an attack on the head.”
This deed was a stimulus to discipline all through the army so that not a man dared be disobedient. A poet wrote:—
A myriad soldiers march along and all are brave and bold, And their myriad inclinations by one leader are controlled. That crafty leader shore his locks when forfeit was his head, O full of guile wert thou, Tsʻao Tsʻao, as every one has said.
On the first news of the approach of Tsʻao Tsʻao with an army Chang Hsiu wrote to Liu Piao for help. Then he sent out his men under command of Lei Hsü and Chang Hsien. When the array was complete Chang Hsiu took his station in front and pointing at Tsʻao Tsʻao railed at him saying, “O false and pretended supporter of benevolence and justice! O shameless one! You are just a beast of the forest, and absolutely devoid of humanity.”
This annoyed Tsʻao Tsʻao who sent out Hsü Chʻu against the insulter. Chang Hsien came to meet him and fell in the third bout. Thence Chang Hsiu’s men fled and were pursued to the very walls of Nanyang, only managing to get within just before the pursuit came up. The city was then closely besieged. Seeing the moat was so wide and deep that approach to the wall would be difficult they began to fill up the ditch with earth. Then with sand bags, brushwood and bundles of grass they built a great mound near the wall and on this erected steps so that they could look over into the city.
Tsʻao rode round the city closely inspecting the defences. Three days later he issued an order to make a mound of earth and brushwood at the north west angle, as he would mount the walls at that point. He was observed from within the city by Chia Hsü, who went to his chief and said, “I know what he intends and I can defeat him by a counter-move.”
E’en amongst the very foremost There is one who leads the way; Some one sees through your devices, Be as crafty as ye may.
What the counter-move was will be told in the next chapter.
Chapter XVIII
CHIA HSÜ ENGINEERS A GREAT VICTORY: HSIAHOU TUN LOSES AN EYE.
Chia Hsü, as he had guessed the enemy’s intention, had also devised a counter-move. So he went to his chief and said, “I saw Tsʻao Tsʻao very carefully reconnoitring round about the city and he certainly noticed that the south-east angle of the wall had been lately restored with mud bricks of a different kind and that the abatis is badly out of repair. He will try to effect an entrance there. Wherefore he is making a feint attack at the opposite point. He is piling up straw and making ostentatious preparations whereby to cajole us into withdrawing from the real point of attack to defend the north-west. His men will scale the walls in the darkness and try to enter at the south-east.”
“Supposing your surmise correct, what do you advise?” asked Chang Hsiu.
“The counter-move is plain. You issue an order for our best and bravest soldiers to fill their bellies, to take only the lightest outfit and conceal themselves in the houses near the south-east corner. Then disguise the townspeople as soldiers and send them to pretend to defend the north-west. To-night we will let the enemy climb up the walls and enter the city and, once they are fairly within, give the signal and the concealed soldiers will rush out upon them. We may even capture Tsʻao Tsʻao himself.”
The stratagem was decided upon. Soon the scouts told Tsʻao that the defenders of the city had moved to the north-west where noisy preparations for defence were going on. The opposite corner was left undefended.
“They have fallen into my trap,” said Tsʻao Tsʻao gleefully.
They prepared shovels and hooks and all the gear needed for scaling walls, and all day they kept up the attack on the north-west angle.
But at the second watch they despatched the veterans to the opposite corner, where they climbed the wall, broke up the abatis and got into the city apparently without disturbing any of the guards. There was no sign of life anywhere as they entered. But just as they were leaving the wall suddenly a bomb exploded and they found themselves in an ambush. They turned to retire, but Chang Hsiu immediately fell on the rear. Tsʻao’s men were totally defeated and fled out of the gate into the country. Chang Hsiu kept up the pursuit till daybreak, when he retired into the city again.
Tsʻao Tsʻao then rallied his army and mustered his men. He had lost five legions and much baggage, while two of his captains, Lü Chʻien and Yü Chin were wounded.
Tsʻao Tsʻao being thus worsted, Chang Hsiu wrote off to Liu Piao to cut off his retreat that he might be utterly destroyed.
An army was preparing for this purpose when a scout came to say that Sun Tsʻê had encamped at Hukʻou. Kʻuai Liang urged the immediate departure of the expedition as he said this move of Sun Tsʻê was part of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s strategy and there would be never-ending regret if he were allowed to escape. Wherefore Liu Piao moved out with his army to Anchung, leaving Huang Tsu to hold the point of vantage. Chang Hsiu, having been informed of the movement to attack his enemy in the rear, went with Chia Hsü to smite him once more.
In the meantime Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army, marching very leisurely, had arrived at Hsianchʻêng. Walking one day beside the Yushui River he suddenly uttered a great cry, and when his officers asked the reason thereof he replied, “I remembered that here, only a year ago, I lost my great captain Tien Wei. Is that not a reason to grieve?”
Thereupon he gave orders to halt while he should make a great sacrifice and mourn for his lost leader. At the ceremony he himself burned incense and wailed and prostrated himself. The army was much affected by his devotion. After the sacrifices to the lost hero, he sacrificed to the names of his nephew Tsʻao An-ming and his eldest son Tsʻao An, both of whom had died at the same time. He also sacrificed to his lost soldiers and even to his steed which had been killed by an arrow.
Soon Hsün Yü wrote to tell him that Liu Piao had gone to help Chang Hsiu and was camped at Anchung, thereby cutting his road of retreat. Tsʻao replied to the letter saying, “I have been marching only a short distance each day and of course knew of the pursuit. But my plans are laid and, as I near Anchung, my enemy will be broken. You need not have any fears.”
Then he hastened his march till he came near where Liu Piao had taken position. Chang Hsiu still followed. Tsʻao ordered his men during the night to open a secret way through a pass, where he laid an ambush.
With the first light of dawn Liu and Chang met. As Tsʻao Tsʻao’s force looked small, they thought he had retired so they boldly advanced into the pass to smite him. Then the ambush was opened and both the attackers’ forces were cut up. The fighting ended, Tsʻao’s soldiers went outside the pass and encamped.
The two leaders on the other side restored order among their beaten men and then held a conference.
“How could we have foreseen such a wicked ruse?” said Liu Piao.
“Let us try again,” said his colleague.
Wherefore they joined forces at Anchung.
But Hsün Yü discovered through his spies that Yüan Shao was preparing an attack on Hsütu, the then capital, so he at once wrote to Tsʻao Tsʻao who, much disturbed by this news, set out homeward at once. When Chang Hsiu heard this through his scouts he wished to follow the retreating army. Chia Hsü opposed it and said it would lead to a defeat. However Liu Piao was also of opinion that it was wrong to lose such a chance and so finally pursuit was decided upon.
They had not marched very far before they came upon Tsʻao’s rear-guard, who fought with great vigour and bravery, so that the pursuers were beaten off and went home discomfited.
Chang Hsiu said to Chia, “This defeat comes from my not following your advice.”
“Now set your army in order and pursue,” said Chia.
“But we have just suffered defeat!” cried both leaders. “Do you now counsel pursuit?”
“Yes, and the result will be a great victory if you go now. I will venture my head on that,” said Chia.
Chang Hsiu had confidence, but his colleague was afraid and would not accompany him. So one army only started in pursuit.
However, this was enough. Tsʻao Tsʻao’s rear-guard was thoroughly routed and abandoned their waggons and their baggage in their hasty flight. Chang Hsiu pursued, but suddenly a troop came out from the shelter of some hills and checked him. Fearful to try further he hastened back to Anchung.
The other general, Liu Piao, asked the adviser to explain his apparent inconsistency. “When our veteran and brave soldiers were going to pursue those who retreated you said our men would lose the day; and when defeated men pursued the victors you foretold victory. You were right in both cases, but we wish you would enlighten us.”
“It is easy to explain. You, Generals, although skilled leaders, are not a match for our enemy. Though the enemy had lost a battle he had able captains to keep the rear and guard against pursuit. Our men are good, but not a match for them. That is how I knew. Forasmuch as Tsʻao Tsʻao’s hurried retreat was due to trouble in the capital and he had beaten off our men, I knew he would retire at his utmost speed and not take his usual precautions. I ventured to take advantage of his laxity.”
Liu and Chang could not but affirm his complete understanding of the conditions.
On the advice of Chia Hsü then Liu Piao returned to Chingchou, while Chang Hsiu took up his position at Hsiangchʻêng so that each strengthened the other as the lips protect the teeth from cold.
When Tsʻao, during his retreat, heard that his army was being pursued he hastily turned back to support the rear-guard. Then he saw the pursuing army draw off. The soldiers of the beaten rear-guard said, “Had it not been for the troop that came out of the hills we should all have been lost.”
“What troop?” asked Tsʻao Tsʻao in surprise.
The leader of the troop then advanced, slung his spear and, dismounting, made a low obeisance. He was Li Tʻung, a captain of some rank and reputation from Chianghsia.
Tsʻao asked him why he had come.
Li Tʻung replied, “I was in command at Junan when I heard of the struggle going on, so I came to lend you any help I could.”
To show his gratitude Tsʻao conferred upon Li the title Marquis of Established Merit, and confirmed him in his command as a defence against Liu Piao. Then Li Tʻung took his leave.
On his return to the capital Tsʻao Tsʻao presented a memorial on the good services rendered by Sun Tsʻê and he was created Marquis of Wu with the title General “Captor of Rebels.” The messenger bearing the decree bore also the order to repress Liu Piao.
Tsʻao Tsʻao went to his palace and there received the ceremonial calls of congratulation. These finished, Hsün Yü asked, saying, “You, Sir, marched very leisurely to Anchung; how came it that you felt certain of victory?”
Tsʻao replied, “He who retires and finds his retreat cut off fights desperately. I retired slowly to entice them into following whereby I could do as I wished with them. Basing my movements on these considerations I felt secure.”
Hsün bowed his head in admiration.
When Kuo Chia entered Tsʻao said, “Why so late, Sir?”
The visitor drew a letter from his sleeve saying to his master, “Yüan Shao sends this saying he desires to send an army to attack Kungsun Tsan and wishes you to lend provisions and men.”
“I heard he was going to attack Hsütu; I suppose my return has made him change his intention,” said Tsʻao.
Then he opened the letter and read it. It was couched in very arrogant terms.
“He is so exceedingly rude that I will attack him,” said Tsʻao, “Only I think I am not quite strong enough. What should be done?”
“My lord, you know well who lost, and why, in the conflict between Liu Pang and Hsiang Yü; the former won only by superior wisdom. Hsiang Yü was the stronger, but in the end he was overcome. Your rival has ten weak points whereas you have ten strong ones, and, though his army is large, it is not terrible.
“Shao is over-much devoted to ceremony and deportment; while you are sympathetic and natural; this is an excellence in conduct. He is antagonistic and drives; you are conciliatory and lead; so you have the advantage of popular approval. For many years the government has been lax and he makes it more so: you strive vigorously after efficiency; this is the excellence of able administration. He is outwardly liberal but grudging at heart, and too given to nepotism: you appear exacting, but you understand and use men after their ability; this is the advantage of correct appreciation. He is a visionary and lacking in decision: you are a man of prompt decision and direct action; this is an advantage in policy. He loves to gather about him men of renown: you treat a man as you find him regardless of his reputation; this is where you excel in moral virtue. He is compassionate to those at hand, but careless about those out of sight: your care is all-embracing; this is where you excel in humanity. He lends a ready ear to calumny and is misled: you may be flooded with evil counsel, but you preserve independence; this is where you excel in perspicacity. His sense of right and wrong is confused: your appreciation is accurate and clear; this is where you excel in administrative capacity. He loves the make-believe force, but is ignorant of military essentials: you would overcome with far inferior numbers as you possess military genius; this is where you excel in war. With your ten superiorities you will have no difficulty in overcoming Shao.”
“How can I be worth as much as you say?” said Tsʻao, smiling.
“What he has said about the ten points in your favour agrees exactly with what I think,” said Hsün Yü. “Shao’s army is not formidable in spite of its size.”
“The real and dangerous enemy is Lü Pu,” said Kuo Chia. “When Yüan Shao has gone north to destroy Kunsun Tsan, we ought to sweep away Lü Pu and so clear away our danger from that side, for if this is not done our attack on Shao will be the signal for an attempt on the capital. That would be most serious.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao saw things in the same light as his advisers and began to discuss plans for an attack on Lü Pu. Hsün Yü was of opinion that they should first secure the fidelity and aid of Liu Pei. So letters were written and they waited his assurance before moving a soldier. Then, in order to reassure Yüan Shao, his emissary was treated with great kindness and a memorial presented asking extra honours for him. With all this a private letter was written urging upon him to attack Kungsun and promising assistance. So Yüan Shao’s army started.
In the meantime the two Chʻêns were playing their game. At every feast and gathering in Hsüchou they uttered the most fulsome praises of Lü Pu. Chʻên Kung was greatly displeased and took an opportunity to talk about them to his master. “They flatter you to your face, but what is in their hearts? You ought to be most carefully on your guard.”
“Hold your tongue!” was the angry reply. “You are simply slandering them without the slightest excuse. You want to harm good men.”
“No ears for loyal words”; said Chʻên Kung, as he went away sad at heart, “and we shall suffer.”
He thought seriously of abandoning Lü Pu, but that would be too painful a wrench. Beside he feared people would laugh at him.
So the days passed sorrowfully for him. One day, with a few horsemen, he rode out to the country near Hsiaopʻei to hunt. On the high road he saw a messenger galloping along in hot haste and began to wonder what it might mean. He left the hunt, rode across country and intercepted the rider.
“Where are you from? Who sent you?” asked Chʻên Kung.
The messenger made no reply for he knew to what party his captors belonged. But they searched him and found a letter, the secret reply to Tsʻao Tsʻao’s letter to Liu Pei. The messenger and the letter were both taken straight to Lü Pu. He questioned the man, who said he had been sent to Liu Pei with a letter and was now taking back the reply. He knew nothing more. He was ignorant of the contents of the letter. So Lü Pu tore it open and read:—“I have received your commands concerning the destruction of Lü Pu and dare I for a moment venture to disregard them? But my force is weak and I must act with extreme circumspection. If you move your main body, then I will hasten forward and in the meantime my men shall be got ready and weapons prepared. I await your command.”
Lü Pu was really alarmed. “The wretch!” said he, “To dare to act thus!”
The unhappy messenger was put to death and counter-moves planned. Chʻên Kung and Tsang Pa went to enlist the help of the Tʻaishan bandits and take Yenchou in Shantung. Kao Shun and Chang Liao went to attack Liu Pei in Pʻeichʻêng. Sung Hsieu and Wei Hsü went west to attack Juying and Lü Pu took command of a large body of men ready to afford help wherever needed.
The departure of the army under Kao Shun against Hsiaopʻei was told Liu Pei who assembled his officers at a council. Sun Chʻien advised sending a message to the capital to inform Tsʻao Tsʻao of their danger and, in response to the chief’s call, Chien Yung, a fellow-townsman of Liu Pei’s, offered to take the message. Up to that moment he had served as a secretary. So a letter was written and the late secretary set out at once on his journey.
Then preparations were made for defence, Yüan-tê commanding at the south gate and the two brothers and Sun Chʻien taking each a gate. Mi Chu and his brother Fang commanded the family guard.
The two Mi’s were put in command of the house guard because they were Liu Pei’s brothers-in-law, he having taken a sister of Mi Chu as a second wife. Hence they were suitable men to guard the family.
In due course Kao Shun came to the south gate. Liu Pei ascended the tower and said, “I have no quarrel with your master, why do you come here with an army?”
“You have plotted with Tsʻao Tsʻao to injure my master as we know now; why should I not ‘bind’ you?”
So saying he gave the signal to attack. But Yüan-tê did not go out to repulse him; he only kept the gate fast closed.
Soon after Chang Liao led an attack on the west gate, then kept by Yün-chʻang, who addressed him from the wall.
“You are too good a man to waste yourself on rebels,” said he.
Chang hung his head and made no reply.
Kuan Yü knew that he had a sound heart and high principles and said no more as he was unwilling to wound him. Nor did he go out to attack.
Chang Liao then drew off and proceeded to the east gate, and Chang Fei went out to give battle. Soon it was told Kuan Yü, who came over quickly. He saw Chang Fei going out, but Chang Liao was already withdrawing. Fei wished to pursue, but his brother held him back.
“He is afraid and so has gone away; it would be best to pursue,” said Fei.
“No,” said his brother. “As a warrior he is not inferior to either of us, but I have spoken a few straight words and they have sunk deep. He is repentant and that is why he will not meet us.”
So Chang Fei understood and the gates were shut and orders given for careful defence.
When Liu Pei’s messenger reached the capital he saw Tsʻao Tsʻao who told him what had happened. The advisers were called to discuss a plan. Tsʻao said, “I wish to attack Lü Pu. I fear not Yüan Shao, but Liu Piao and Chang Hsiu may attack me in the rear.”
Hsün Yü replied. “Both these latter have been too recently defeated to do anything so rash. But Lü Pu is a bold fighting man, and if he joined forces with Yüan Shu and they set themselves to conquer Huai and Ssŭ [10] the problem would be difficult.”
Then spoke Kuo Chia, “Let us take advantage of the moment before they have fully made up their mind. Smite before they are fully prepared.” And Tsʻao Tsʻao did so. Five legions with four captains were sent in advance. Tsʻao commanded the rear army, which marched by divisions, and Chien Yung brought up the rear.
Soon the scouts informed Kao Shun. He sent flying messengers to Lü Pu, who detached two hundred horse to assist him. Kao Shun posted this reinforcement about thirty li from the city to meet Tsʻao’s army. He followed close.
When Liu Pei saw the enemy retiring from the city he knew Tsʻao’s army was close at hand. So, making arrangements for guarding the city within, he and his two brothers marched their men out of the city and made a camp, that they might be ready to assist.
Now the division of Tsʻao’s army under Hsiahou Tun, having marched out in advance, first came into touch with Kao Shun. The former captain at once rode out with spear set and offered a challenge. It was accepted and the two leaders fought half a hundred bouts. Then Kao Shun began to weaken and had to own he had lost the day. His adversary pressed him hard and he rode round to the rear of his array. Tun was not the man to quail so he followed right into the enemy’s country. Then Tsʻao Hsing, one of the captains, secretly strung his bow, fitted an arrow and, when Tun had come quite near, shot at him. The arrow hit Hsiahou Tun full in the left eye. He shrieked, and putting up his head, pulled out the arrow and with it the eye.
“Essence of my father, blood of my mother, I cannot throw this away,” cried he, and he put the eye into his mouth and swallowed it.
Then resuming his firm grip of his spear he went after this new enemy.
There was no escape for Tsʻao Hsing. He was overtaken and fell with a spear wound full in the face. Both sides were stricken dumb with amazement.
Having thus slain the man who had wounded him Tun rode back toward his own side. Kao Shun went in pursuit and, waving on his men, attacked so vigorously that he won the day. Hsiahou Tun saved his elder brother, with whom he fled. The various divisions rallied at Chipei and made a camp there.
Kao Shun having scored this victory, returned to attack Liu Pei, and as Lü Pu opportunely arrived with Chang Liao, these three arranged their forces so that each attacked one of the brothers.
Dauntless was Tun, that warrior bold, His courage had been proved of old; But smitten sore one hapless day, He might not in the battle stay.
The fate of Yüan-tê will be told in the next chapter.
Chapter XIX
TSʻAO TSʻAO FIGHTS AT HSIAPʻEI: LÜ PU PERISHES AT THE WHITE GATE TOWER.
As was stated before, Kao Shun and Chang Liao together went to smite Kuan Yü, while Lü Pu attacked the younger brother’s camp. Both brothers went out to give battle, while Liu Pei’s force was held in reserve. Lü Pu attacked from the rear and the brothers were forced to flee. Liu Pei with a few score horsemen rushed back to Pʻeichʻêng. As he approached the gate with Lü Pu pressing him close, he shouted to the soldiers on the wall to lower the drawbridge. Lü Pu was so close behind that the archers on the wall feared to shoot lest they should wound their lord and so Lü Pu got into the gate. The gate guards could not force him back so they scattered in all directions. Lü Pu led his force into the city.
Liu Yüan-tê saw the position was too desperate for him to reach his residence and he must abandon all his family. So he hastened through the city and left by the west gate out at which he and his scanty following fled for very life.
When Lü Pu reached the residence he was met by Mi Chu who said, “The hero does not destroy a man’s wife. Your rival for the Empire is Tsʻao Tsʻao, and my master, always mindful of the good turn you did him at your gate, would not be ungrateful. But he could not help going to Tsʻao Tsʻao and I think you will pity him.”
Lü Pu replied, “We two are old friends; how could I bear to harm his wife and children?”
Whereupon he sent the family to Hsüchou with Mi Chu to take care of them. Next Lü led his army into Shantung to Yenchou, leaving Kao Shun and Chang Liao to guard Hsiaopʻei.
During these troubles Sun Chʻien had also fled out of the city and the two brothers, each with a handful of men, had got away to the hills. As Liu Pei with his few horsemen was making the best of their way from the scene of his defeat he heard some one coming up behind him. When he got closer the person proved to be Sun Chʻien.
“Alas! I know not the fate of my brothers, whether they be alive or dead, and my wife and children are lost to me! What can I do?” said Liu Pei.
Sun replied, “I see nothing better than getting away to Tsʻao Tsʻao, whence we may be able to plan our future moves.”
Liu Pei had no better plan to propose and the two men directed their way to Hsütu, choosing bye-roads rather than highways. When their small supplies ran out they entered a village to beg. But when the people of any place heard that Liu of Yüchou was the man who needed help they vied with each other in offering all that was required.
One day they sought shelter at a house whence a youth came out and made a low obeisance. They asked his name and he gave it as Liu An, of a well known family of hunters. Hearing who the visitor was the hunter wished to lay before him a dish of game, but though he sought for a long time nothing could be found for the table. So he came home, killed his wife and prepared a portion for his guest. While eating Liu Pei asked what flesh it was and the hunter told him “wolf.” Yüan-tê knew no better and ate his fill. Next day at daylight, just as he was leaving, he went to the stables in the rear to get his horse and passing through the kitchen he saw the dead body of a woman lying on the table. The flesh of one arm had been cut away. Quite startled he asked what this meant, and then he knew what he had eaten the night before. He was deeply affected at this proof of his host’s regard and the tears rained down as he mounted his steed at the gate.
“I wish I could go with you,” said Liu An, “but as my mother still lives I cannot go so far from home.”
Liu Pei thanked him and went his way. The party took the road by Liangchʻêng and as they were going out they saw not far off a thick cloud of dust. When the troop came nearer they found they were men of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army, and with them they travelled to the main camp where they found Tsʻao Tsʻao himself. He wept at the sad story of Liu’s distress, the loss of the city, his brothers and wife and children. When he told him of the hunter who had sacrificed his wife to feed them Tsʻao sent the hunter a present of a hundred ounces of silver as a reward. [11]
The march then was continued to Chipei, where Hsiahou Yüan welcomed them. They heard that his brother was still ill from the wound he had received in the eye. Tsʻao Tsʻao went to the sick man’s bedside to see him and had him removed to Hsütu for skilled treatment.
Presently scouts, sent out particularly for tidings of Lü Pu, returned saying that he had allied himself with the bandits in the east and they were attacking Yenchou. At this Tsʻao Tsʻao despatched Tsʻao Jên with three companies to take Pʻeichʻêng, while he, in conjunction with Liu Pei, moved against Lü Pu.
They went east. As they neared Artemisia Pass (Hsiao Kuan) they met the Tʻaishan brigands with three legions barring their road. However, they were easily beaten back and were chased right up to the pass.
The scouts told Lü Pu, who was then in Hsüchou, whither he had gone to start an expedition to save Hsiaopʻei. He left the protection of his city to Chʻên Kuei and set out with Chʻên Têng.
As this latter was starting Chʻên Kuei said to him, “Remember the words of Tsʻao Tsʻao, that the business of the east is in our hands. Now is our moment for Lü Pu is about to suffer defeat.”
“Father, your son can look after the outside. But when he returns beaten you must arrange with Mi Chu to keep him out of the city. I shall find a means of escape,” said Têng.
“His family is here and he has many friends. How about them?”
“I also have a scheme to settle them.”
Then he went to see Lü Pu, to whom he said, “Hsüchou is surrounded and this city will be fiercely attacked. We ought to provide for possible retreat and I advise storing grain and money in Hsiaopʻei. We could retreat there if the day went adversely. Why not see about this in good time?”
“Your words are indeed wise. I will also send my wife and little ones thither,” said Lü.
The family left under escort and with them was sent much grain and silver. And then the soldiers marched to the relief of the pass. About half way there Chʻên Têng said, “Let me go first to reconnoitre so that you, my lord, may advance with confidence.”
Thus Chʻên Têng parted company with his chief and preceded him to the pass where he was received by Chʻên Kung. He said, “The Marquis greatly wonders why you do not advance. He is going to enquire into it.”
“The enemy is in great force and we cannot be too careful,” said Kung. “We are holding the pass and you should persuade our master to take steps to guard Pʻeichʻêng.”
Chʻên Têng muttered to himself and said no more. That evening he went up to the heights from which he could see Tsʻao’s army, which was quite close to the pass. Then he wrote three notes, tied them to arrows and shot them into Tsʻao’s camp.
Next day he left and hastened back to Lü Pu. “Those bandits are about to give up the pass to the enemy, but I have left Chʻên Kung to hold it. You had better make an attack to-night and hold him.”
“Had it not been for you the pass would have been lost,” said Lü.
Then he sent Chʻên Têng back to arrange a signal with Chʻên Kung for simultaneous action. So Têng returned to Kung to whom he said, “Tsʻao’s men have found a secret way through the pass and I fear Hsüchou is already lost. You ought to go back at once.”
At this the pass was abandoned and Kung began to retreat. Then the prearranged signal was given.
Lü Pu advanced in the darkness to the relief of the pass. Presently he met Chʻên Kun’s men, and as neither recognised the other in the darkness a fierce battle ensued. Nor was the trick discovered till daylight came.
While these things were going on Tsʻao Tsʻao had noted the signal and advanced as fast as possible. The bandits, who alone remained to hold the pass, were easily driven out and scattered in all directions.
When daylight came and the trick was discovered Lü Pu and Chʻên Kung set off together for Hsüchou. But when they arrived and summoned the gate, instead of opening the doors the men on the wall saluted them with a thick flight of arrows. At the same time Mi Chu appeared on the defence tower and shouted, “You stole our master’s city and now we are going to give it back to him. You will not enter here again.”
“Where is Chʻên Kuei?” cried Lü Pu, angrily.
“We have slain him,” was the reply.
“Where is that son of his?” said Pu turning to Chʻên Kung.
“Do you still hold to your delusion, General, that you ask where this specious rogue is?”
Lü Pu bade them search through all the ranks, but he was not to be found. Then they decided to go to Hsiaopʻei. But ere they had got half way there suddenly appeared the troops under the command of Kao Shun and Chang Liao. They said Chʻên Têng had come to them saying their lord was surrounded and wanted help so they had come at once.
“Another trick of that false rogue!” said Lü Pu. “Surely he shall die for this.”
They went with all speed to the city, only to see as they drew near the ensigns of the enemy displayed all along the walls, for the city had been taken by Tsʻao Jên.
While Lü Pu stood at the foot of the rampart reviling the traitor Chʻên Têng, Têng himself appeared on the wall and pointing to Lü Pu cried, “Did you think that I, a Minister of the Dynasty, would serve a rebel like you?”
Lü Pu in his wrath was about to make a desperate attack but suddenly a great noise was heard and an army came up behind him. It was led by no other than Chang Fei.
Kao Shun went to engage him, but he had no chance of success. Lü Pu then joined in the fray. Then another army appeared, and the leader this time was Tsʻao Tsʻao himself, and his army rushed to the attack. Seeing that he had no hope of victory Lü Pu went away toward the east, with Tsʻao Tsʻao in pursuit. His army marched till they were worn out. Then appeared a new force under Kuan Yü. Holding his sword ready to strike he called out, “Do not flee, O Lü Pu, Kuan Yü is waiting for you.”
Lü Pu joined battle; he was flurried and scarce knew what was happening. And soon Chang Fei came up once more. By desperate efforts Lü Pu and his men cut their way through the press and got free. After this they started for Hsiaopʻei as fast as they could travel and Hou Chʻêng helped to keep the pursuers at bay.
So the two brothers Kuan Yü and Chang Fei were together again after their separation. Both shed tears of joy as they told each other what they had seen and suffered.
“I was on the Haichow road when I heard of you,” said Yün-chʻang. “I lost no time in starting.”
“And I had been camped in the Mangtang Hills for a long time. It is happiness to be together again.”
So they talked. Then they marched off together to find their elder brother, and made their salutations with tears. In Yüan-tê’s heart sadness and joy intermingled. Next they were presented to Tsʻao Tsʻao and with him they went into the captured city.
Mi Chu soon came with the welcome news of the safety of the family. And the two Chʻên’s, betrayers of Lü Pu, came to present their salutations. A grand banquet was prepared for the officers at which Tsʻao Tsʻao presided as host and Chʻên Kuei and Yüan-tê occupied the seats of honour. At the close of the banquet Tsʻao Tsʻao paid the two Chʻêns the highest compliments on their success and rewarded them with the revenues of ten departments beside giving the son the title of Fu-po Chang-chün or General, “Queller of Waves.”
Tsʻao Tsʻao was very pleased with his success and at once began to scheme for the taking of Hsiaopʻei, the sole place now left to Lü Pu, where he had taken refuge. Chʻêng Yü said the course was inadvisable.
“If Lü Pu be pressed too hard he may get clear by a desperate effort and throw himself into the arms of our especial enemy Yüan Shu. These two as allies would be difficult to overcome. Rather send a capable man to guard Huainan, one able to secure you against Lü Pu on one hand and to hold Yüan Shu on the other. Moreover the bandits are in Shantung and still our enemies. They must be watched.”
Tsʻao replied, “I can keep the whole of Shantung and I will request Yüan-tê to take the south.”
“Could I dare withstand your command?” said Yüan-tê.
So forthwith Liu Pei, leaving Mi Chu and Chien Yung at Hsüchou, went south, taking in his train his brothers and Sun Chʻien. And Tsʻao led his army to Hsiaopʻei.
Lü Pu felt very secure in his refuge. He had good store of grain and he had the protection of the river, so he sat quiet, satisfied that he could maintain his defence. So he allowed Tsʻao’s army to approach without molestation.
“You ought to attack Tsʻao’s army as they come up before they have time to make camps and defences. They will only have fatigued men to oppose to your fresh troops and you will certainly defeat them.”
So said Chʻên Kung but Lü Pu replied, “I have suffered too many defeats lately to take any risk. Wait till they actually attack and you will see them floating away on the waters.”
So he neglected the confidant’s advice and waited till the enemy had settled into their camp. This done, the attackers advanced against the city. From the foot of the wall Tsʻao Tsʻao called to Lü Pu to listen while he spoke. Lü Pu ascended to the wall where he stood.
Tsʻao addressed him, saying, “When I heard that your family and that of Yüan Shu were likely to be united by marriage I sent an army against you, for Yüan was guilty of treason while you had to your credit the destruction of Tung Cho. For what reason have you sacrificed all your merits to throw in your lot with a rebel? It will be over late to regret when this city shall have fallen. But if you surrender and help me to support the ruling house you shall not lose your rank of Marquis.”
Lü Pu replied, “If the Minister will retire we may be able to discuss the matter.”
But Chʻên Kung, standing near his master, began to rail at Tsʻao Tsʻao for a rebel and shot an arrow that struck his plumed helmet.
“My oath, but I will slay you at least!” cried Tsʻao, pointing his finger at Chʻên Kung.
Then the attack on the walls began.
“They have come from far and cannot maintain this for long,” said Chʻên Kung. “General, go out with your horse and foot and take up a position outside, leaving me to maintain the defence with the remainder of our men. If he engages you, I will come out and strike at his rear ranks; if he attacks the city, you can come to our aid. In a few days their stores will fail and we can beat them off. This will place them between the horns.”
“The advice seems good,” said Lü Pu.
He went back to his palace and prepared his weapons. As it was the depth of winter he made his men take plenty of wadded clothing to keep them warm. His wife heard of it and came to ask whither he was going. He told her of Chʻên Kung’s plan.
She said, “My lord, you are leaving an undamaged city, abandoning your wife and little ones and going with a paltry force. Should any untoward event happen will your handmaid and her lord ever meet again?”
Lü Pu hesitated, and for three days made no move. Then Chʻên Kung came to see him again and said, “The enemy are all round the city and unless you go out soon you will be quite hemmed in.”
“I am thinking it would be better to maintain a stubborn defence,” said Lü.
“Our enemies are short of food and have sent for supplies to Hsütu. These will soon arrive and you should go out with some veterans and intercept the convoy. That loss would be a heavy blow.”
Lü Pu agreed and went in to tell his wife the new plan. She wept saying, “If you go do you think those others equal to the defence of the city? Should anything go wrong you would be very sorry. You abandoned me at Chʻangan and it was only through the fortunate kindness of Pʻang Hsü that I was hidden from our enemies and rejoined you. Who would have thought you would leave me again? But go, go your way as far as you wish, and do not mind your wife?”
And she wept bitterly. Lü Pu very sadly went to take leave of Little Cicada who said, “You are my lord, you must not be careless and ride out alone.”
“You need not fear; with my mighty halberd and the Hare, my swift steed, who dare come near me?”
He went out. He met Chʻên Kung and said, “That story about supplies for Tsʻao Tsʻao is all false, one of his many ruses. I am not going to stir.”
Chʻên Kung sighed; he felt all was lost.
“We shall die and no man shall know our burying place,” said he.
Thereupon Lü Pu remained in his own quarters with his women folk, drinking freely to dissipate his sorrows. Two of his advisers went in and proposed that he should write to the powerful Yüan Shu for help. Yüan would hardly refuse to rescue the affianced bride of his son. So he wrote and bade these two take the letter.
Hsü Ssŭ said, “You ought to send a strong escort with us to force a way through.”
So Lü told off a company and two captains to conduct his messenger beyond the pass. They started that same night at the second watch, Chang Liao leading and Ho Ming bringing up the rear. They got out of the city, crept past Yüan-tê’s camp and got beyond the danger zone. Then half the escort went on and Chang Liao led the remainder back toward the city. At the pass he found Yün-chʻang waiting. However, at that moment Kao Shun came to his help and they all returned and re-entered the gates.
The two messengers presently reached Shouchʻun, saw Yüan Shu and presented the letter.
“How is this?” said Shu. “Formerly he slew my messenger and repudiated the marriage; now he sends to ask for it.”
“It is all due to the vile plans of that monster Tsʻao Tsʻao. I pray you, Illustrious Sir, to consider it carefully,” replied Ssŭ.
“But if your master was not hemmed in by his enemy and in imminent danger he would never have thought of renewing this proposal of marriage.”
The messengers said, “You may decide not to help him, but the teeth are cold when the lips are gone. It will not make for your happiness and comfort.”
Said Shu, “Fêng-hsien is unreliable; tell him that I will send soldiers after the girl has arrived here.”
This was final and the two messengers took leave. When the party reached Yüan-tê’s camp they decided to try to get through in the darkness, the escort remaining behind to protect their rear. They tried that very night and the two messengers crept across without discovery. But the escort found themselves faced by Chang Fei. Ho Ming tried to fight but was captured in the very first bout and the men of his half company were either killed or they fled.
The prisoner was taken to Yüan-tê, who forwarded him to the main camp. There he told the story of the marriage and the scheme to save the city. Tsʻao Tsʻao was angry and ordered the execution of the prisoner at the main gate.
Then he sent orders to each camp to exercise the greatest diligence with threats of rigorous punishment of the officers of any corps that permitted any communication between the besieged and the outer world.
Every soldier felt mightily afraid. Yüan-tê returned to camp and cautioned his brothers saying, “We are in the most important place with regard to Huainan and you must be very careful not to allow any breach of this command.”
Chang Fei was inclined to grumble, “We have just captured one of the enemy’s leaders,” said he, “and there is no word of praise or reward for us; nothing but new orders and threats. What do you make of that?”
“You are wrong to complain,” said Yüan-tê. “These are orders of the Commander-in-Chief and what would happen were there no orders? Do not disobey them, brother.”
They promised obedience and withdrew.
In the meantime the messengers had got back to Lü Pu and told him what Yüan Shu had said, that if the girl came the soldiers should go.
“But how can she be sent?” said Pu.
“That is the difficulty. Ho Ming’s capture means that Tsʻao Tsʻao knows the whole plan of getting help from the south. I do not see how any one but you yourself could hope to get through the close siege.”
“Suppose we tried, to-day?” said Lü Pu.
“This is an ill-omened day; you must not try to-day. To-morrow is a very lucky day, especially in the evening, for any military action.”
Then Lü Pu ordered Chang Liao and Kao Shun to get ready three companies for the venture and to prepare a light carriage. He would lead till they had got a couple of hundred li away. Thence they could escort the bride-elect the remainder of the way to her new home.
Next evening toward the second watch Lü Pu wrapped up his daughter in soft wadded garments, bound her about with a mailed coat and took her on his back. Then with his mighty halberd in hand, he mounted his steed and rode at the head of the cavalcade out of the city gate. The two captains followed.
In this order they approached Yüan-tê’s camp. The drums at once beat the alarm and the two younger brothers barred the way.
“Stop!” they shouted.
Lü Pu had no desire to fight; all he wished was to get through so he made for a side road. Yüan-tê came in pursuit and the two parties engaged. Brave as he might be, Lü Pu was almost helpless now that he was hampered by a girl on his shoulders, whom he was desperately anxious to preserve from hurt. Beside other parties came up all shouting and attacking and he had no alternative but to give up his project and return into the city. He reached his palace very sad at heart. The besiegers returned to camp well pleased that no one had got beyond their lines.
Lü Pu found consolation in the wine cup. The siege had gone on for two months and still the city stood, when they heard that Chang Yang, Prefect of Honei, had been inclined to come to the help of Lü Pu. But one of his subordinates had assassinated him and was bringing his head as an offering to Tsʻao Tsʻao, when he also had been slain by one of the Prefect’s friends. He had then gone to Tachʻêng.
In the camp of the besiegers there now arose much murmuring. The officers grumbled saying, “Though Chang Yang, who meant to hurt us, is happily no more, yet we are threatened on the north by Yüan Shao and on the east Piao Hsiu is a menace. Here we meet with no success against the city. We are for leaving Lü Pu to his fate and returning home. We need a rest.”
Among them Hsün Yü fought against this discontent. “You must not act like this,” said he. “Lü Pu has lost much and his spirit is broken. The spirit of the leader expresses that of his men, and when the leader fails his men do not fight. Chʻên Kung is clever but nothing is done. Lü Pu broken, Chʻên Kung without decision, it only needs a sharp attack and we shall succeed.”
“I have a plan to propose,” said Kuo Chia, “a plan to overcome the city at once; it beats twenty legions.”
“I suppose you mean drowning the city,” said Hsün Yü.
“That is it,” said the proposer, smiling.
Tsʻao Tsʻao accepted the suggestion with joy and set his men to cut the banks of the I and Ssŭ Rivers, and moved his men to the high ground whence they watched the drowning out of Hsiaopʻei. Only the east gate remained clear of water.
The besieged soldiers hastened to their leader. He said, “Why should I fear? My good horse can go as well through the water as over the land.” And he again returned to the wine cup for consolation, drinking deeply with his wife and concubine.
The continual drinking bouts told at last and Lü Pu began to look dissipated. Seeing himself in a mirror one day he was startled at the change and said to himself, “I am injuring myself with wine; no more from this day forward.”
He then issued an order that no one should drink wine under penalty of death.
Now one of his captains, Hou Chʻêng, lost fifteen horses, stolen by one Hou Tsʻao, who intended them for Yüan-tê. The owner found out where they were, went out after them and recovered them. And his colleagues congratulated him on his success. To celebrate the occasion he brewed a few catties of wine to be drunk at the feast, but thinking his chief might find him in fault he sent the bottles of wine to his palace with a petition explaining that by virtue of his lord’s warlike renown he had recovered his horses and asking that he and his comrades might be allowed a little wine at their feast.
Lü Pu took it very angrily saying, “When I have forbidden all wine you brew some and begin to give feasts; you are simply defying me.” Whereupon he ordered the officer to instant execution. However, a number of his colleagues came in and interceded and after a time Lü Pu softened.
“You ought to lose your head for this disobedience, but for the sake of your colleagues the punishment shall be reduced to a hundred strokes.”
They tried to beg him off this, but only succeeded in reducing the number of blows to one half.
When the sentence had been carried out and the offender was permitted to return home his colleagues came sadly to console him.
“Had it not been for you I should have been put to death,” said Hou Chʻêng.
Sung Hsien replied, “All he cares for is his family, there is no pity for any one else. We are no more than the weeds by the roadside.”
Wei Hsü said, “The city is besieged, the water is drowning us out. There will not be much more of this for we may die any day.”
“He is a beast, with neither a sense of humanity nor of right. Let us leave him,” said Hsien.
“He is not worth fighting for. The best we could do would be to seize him and hand him over to Tsʻao Tsʻao.”
“I was punished because I got my horses back again, yet all he trusts in is his own steed. If you two will betray the gate and seize Lü Pu I will steal the horse and go out to Tsʻao’s camp.”
They settled how to carry out the plot and that very night Hou Chʻêng sneaked into the stables and got the Hare away. He hastened to the east gate which was opened to let him through. The guard made a pretence of pursuing him but only a pretence.
Hou Chʻêng reached the besiegers’ camp, presented the horse and told Tsʻao what had been arranged. They would show a white flag and open the gates to his army. Hearing this Tsʻao had a few notifications written out, which were attached to arrows and shot over the walls. This is one of them:—“The General Tsʻao Tsʻao has received a command to destroy Lü Pu. Those who interfere with the operations of his grand army, whatever their rank, shall be put to death in the gate on the day that the city shall be captured. Should any one capture Lü Pu or bring his head he shall be well rewarded. Let all take note of this.”
Next day at daylight a tremendous hubbub was heard without the city and Lü Pu, halberd in hand, hasted to the wall to see what it meant. As he went from gate to gate inspecting the defences and guards he censured Wei Hsü for letting Hou Chʻêng escape and get away with his horse. He threatened to punish him. But just then the besiegers began a fierce attack as the white flag had just appeared and Lü Pu had to turn all his energies to defence. The assault lasted till noon, when the attacking force drew off for a time.
Lü Pu was taking a rest in the tower and fell asleep in his chair. Sun Hsien sent away his attendants, and when they had gone he stole his master’s weapon, the halberd in which he trusted. Then he and Wei Hsü fell upon Lü together and before he was well awake had bound him with cords, trussing him so that he could not move. Lü Pu shouted for his men, but they were driven off by the two traitors and could not come near. Then a white flag was shown and the besiegers again approached the city. The traitors shouted out that Lü Pu was a prisoner. But Hsiahou Yüan could hardly believe it till they threw down the famous halberd.
The gates were flung open and the enemy entered the city. Kao Shun and Chang Liao, who were at the opposite gate, were surrounded and cut off by the water and helpless. They were captured. Chʻên Kung made a dash to the south gate but was also taken. Presently Tsʻao Tsʻao entered and at once gave orders to turn the streams back into their usual courses. He put out proclamations soothing the people.
He and Liu Pei seated themselves side by side in the White Gate Tower, with Kuan Yü and Chang Fei in attendance. The captives, to the number of a thousand, were brought before them. Lü Pu looked a pitiable object. Although a very tall man he was tied up in a veritable ball.
“The bonds are very tight,” cried he, “I beseech you to loosen them.”
“A bound tiger frets of course,” replied Tsʻao.
Seeing the three traitors standing there looking pleased at their success Pu said, “I treated you all well enough; how could you turn against me?”
Said Sung Hsien, “You listened to the words of your women, but rejected the advice of your captains. Was not that mean?”
Lü Pu was silent. Then Kao Shun was brought forward.
“What have you to say?” asked Tsʻao.
Shun sulkily held his tongue and was ordered out to execution.
Next Chʻên Kung was led in.
“I hope you have been well since we last saw each other, Kungtʻai?” said Tsʻao.
“Your ways were crooked and so I left you,” said Chʻên.
“You say I was crooked; and what of your serving Lü Pu?”
“Though he was a fool, he did not resemble you in deceit and wickedness.”
“You say you are able enough and clever, but what about your position to-day?”
Turning toward Lü Pu, Chʻên Kung said, “This man would not follow my advice. Had he done so he would not now be a captive.”
“What think you ought to be done about this day’s work?” said Tsʻao.
“There is death for me to-day and that is the end,” shouted Chʻên Kung.
“Very well for you; but what of your mother and your wife?”
“It is said that he who rules with due regard to filial piety does not harm a man’s family; he who would show benevolence does not cut off the sacrifices at a man’s tomb. My mother and my wife are in your hands. But since I am your prisoner I pray you to slay me quickly and not to try to harrow my feelings.”
Tsʻao’s heart still leaned toward mercy, but Chʻên Kung turned and walked away, repulsing the attendants who would stop him. Tsʻao rose from his place and walked with him, the tears falling from his eyes. Chʻên Kung never looked at him. Turning to his men Tsʻao said, “Let his mother and family be taken to Hsütu and looked after. This insolent fellow must die.”
The condemned man heard him but uttered no word. He stretched out his neck for the blow. Tears sprang to the eyes of all present. His remains were honourably coffined and buried in Hsütu.
A poem pitying his fate says:—
Neither hope of life nor fear of death moved him. How brave was he, a hero indeed! But his lord heeded not his words, Wherefore in vain possessed he great talents. Nevertheless, in that he stood by his master, To parting with wife and mother, He merits our pity and profound respect. Who would not resemble Kung-tʻai That day he died at the White Gate?
While Tsʻao sadly escorted Chʻên Kung on the way to death, Lü Pu appealed to Yüan-tê, “Noble Sir, you sit there an honoured guest while poor I lie bound at your feet. Will you not utter one word to alleviate my lot?”
Yüan-tê nodded. As Tsʻao Tsʻao returned to his place his prisoner called out, “Your only trouble, Illustrious Sir, is myself and I am on your side now. You take the lead, I will help you and together the world is at our feet.”
“What do you think?” said Tsʻao turning to Liu Pei.
“You are willing to forget the episodes of Ting Yüan and Tung Cho?”
“Truly the lout is not to be trusted,” said Lü Pu, looking at Yüan-tê.
“Strangle and expose,” said Tsʻao.
As he was led away the prisoner turned once more to Yüan-tê, “You long-eared lout, you forget now the service I rendered you that day at my yamên gate, when my arrow hit the mark.”
Just then some one shouted, “Lü Pu, O fool! death is but death, and why are you scared at it?”
Every one turned to look; the lictors were hustling Chang Liao to the place of judgement.
A poet has written upon the death of Lü Pu:—
The flood spreads wide, the city drowns, Its lord is captive. Nought avails His courser’s speed or halberd’s thrust. The tiger erstwhile fierce, now whines For mercy. Tsʻao had meted him Full well, a falcon flown at will And hungry kept. Poor fool! He let Chʻên Kung’s advice be overborne By harem tattle; vainly now He rails against the Long-eared Childe.
And another poem says:—
Bound is the hungry tiger, eater of men, for whom is no pity, Since the blood of his victims is fresh and not yet dry. Yüan-tê spoke no word in favour of Lü Pu, To whom even a father’s life was not sacred. How could he save him to be a menace to Tsʻao Man.
It was recorded earlier that the executioners were hustling Chang Liao forward. Pointing to him as he stood there Tsʻao said, “He has a fine face.”
“You were not likely to forget me; you saw me before in Pʻuyang,” said Liao.
“O, so you remember me, eh?”
“Yes; more’s the pity.”
“Pity for what?”
“That the fire that day was not fierce enough to burn you up, rebel that you are.”
Tsʻao began to get angry. “How dare you insult me?” cried he and lifted his sword to kill the bold speaker.
The undaunted Chang Liao never changed colour, but stretched out his neck for the blow. Then a man behind Tsʻao Tsʻao caught his arm and in front of him another dropped on his knees, saying, “O Minister, I pray thee stay thy hand.”
Lü Pu whining was not spared, Railing Chang far better fared.
Who was it that saved Chang Liao? The next chapter will show.
Chapter XX
TSʻAO A-MAN ORGANISES A HUNTING EXPEDITION: TUNG, “STATE UNCLE,” RECEIVES A COMMAND IN THE PALACE.
The last chapter said that Tsʻao Tsʻao was checked in his angry attack upon Chang Liao. It was Liu Pei who held his arm and Kuan Yün-chʻang who knelt before him.
“A man as generous-hearted as he is should be saved,” said Liu.
Kuan said, “I know him well as loyal and righteous. I will vouch for him with my own life.”
Tsʻao threw aside his sword. “I also know Wên-yüan to be loyal and good; I was just testing him,” said he.
He loosed the prisoner’s bonds with his own hands, had a change of dress brought in and clothed him therewith. Then he was led to a seat of honour. This kindly treatment sank deep into Chang’s heart and he hastened to declare formally that he yielded. And then he was given a rank and the title of marquis. He was sent on a mission to win over Tsang Pa, who hearing what had happened, came forthwith and gave in his submission. He was graciously received and his former colleagues also yielded, with the exception of Chang Hsi, who remained obdurate. All these former enemies who came over were kindly treated and given posts of responsibility wherein they might prove the reality of their conversion. Lü Pu’s family were sent to the capital.
After the soldiers had been rewarded with feastings the camp was broken up and the army moved away to Hsütu. Passing through Hsüchou the people lined the roads and burned incense in honour of the victors. They also petitioned that Liu Pei should be their governor.
Tsʻao Tsʻao replied, “Liu Shih-chün has rendered great services. You must wait till he has been received in audience and obtained his reward. After that he shall be sent here.”
Chʻê Chou, a General of Cavalry, was given command of Hsüchou for the moment. After the army had arrived at the capital rewards were granted to all the officers who had been in the expedition. Liu Yüan-tê was retained in the capital, lodging in an annexe to the Minister’s palace. Soon after a Court was held and Tsʻao Tsʻao represented the services of Yüan-tê who was presented to the Emperor Hsien. Dressed in Court robes he bowed at the lower end of the audience arena. The Emperor called him to the Hall and asked his ancestry.
Liu Pei replied, “Thy servant is the son of Liu Hung, grandson of Liu Hsiung, who was a direct descendant of Prince Ching of Chungshan, who was the great-great-grandson of His Majesty the Emperor Ching (about 150 B.C.)”
The Emperor bade them bring forth the Books of the Genealogies and therefrom a secretary read: “The filial Emperor Ching begat fourteen sons of whom the seventh was Liu Shêng, Prince Ching of Chungshan. Shêng begat Chên, Marquis (Tʻing-hou) of Luchʻêng; Chên begat Ang, Marquis Pʻei; Ang begat Lu, Marquis Chang; Lu begat Lien, Marquis of Ishui; Lien begat Ying, Marquis of Chʻinyang; Ying begat Chien, Marquis Ankuo; Chien begat Ai, Marquis Kuanglu; Ai begat Hsien, Marquis of Chiaoshui; Hsien begat Hsü, Marquis of Tsuyi; Hsü begat I, Marquis of Chʻiyang; I begat Pi, Marquis of Yüantsê; Pi begat Ta, Marquis of Yingchʻuan; Ta begat Pu-i, Marquis of Fêngling; Pu-i begat Hui, Marquis of Chichʻuan; Hui begat Hsiung, Governor of the Eastern Districts; Hsiung begat Hung, who held no office or rank and Liu Pei is his son.”
The Emperor compared this with the registers of the Imperial House and found by them that Liu Pei was his uncle by descent. He seemed greatly pleased and requested Liu Pei to go into one of the side chambers where he might perform the ceremonial obeisance prescribed for a nephew to his uncle. In his heart he rejoiced to have this heroic warrior-uncle as a powerful supporter against Tsʻao Tsʻao who really held all the power in his own hands. The Emperor knew himself to be a mere puppet. He conferred upon his uncle, the rank of General and the title of Marquis of Ichʻêng.
When the banquet was concluded Yüan-tê thanked the Emperor and went out of the palace. And from this time he was very generally styled Liu, “Uncle of the Emperor.”
When Tsʻao Tsʻao returned to his palace Hsün Yü and his fellow advisers went in to see him. Hsün Yü said, “It is no advantage to you, Illustrious Sir, that the Emperor recognises Liu as an uncle.”
“He may be recognised as uncle, but he is under my orders since I control the decrees of the throne. He will be all the more ready to obey. Beside I will keep him here under the pretence of having him near his sovereign and he will be entirely in my hands. I have nothing to fear. The man I fear is Yang Piao, who is a relative of the two Yüans. Should Yang conspire with them he is an enemy within and might do much harm. He will have to be removed.”
Hence Tsʻao sent a secret emissary to say that Yang Piao was intriguing with Yüan Shu and on this charge Piao was arrested and imprisoned. And his death would have been compassed had his enemy dared.
But just then the Prefect of Pohai, Kʻung Jung, was at the capital and he remonstrated with Tsʻao Tsʻao saying, “Yang comes from a family famed for virtue for at least four generations; you cannot trump up so foolish a charge as that against him.”
“It is the Court,” retorted Tsʻao.
“If Prince Chʻêng had put Duke Chao to death, could Duke Chou have pretended ignorance?”
So Tsʻao had to relinquish the attempt, but he took away Yang’s offices and banished him to his family estate in the country.
A certain Chao Yen, a minor official but an opponent of the Minister, sent up a memorial impeaching Tsʻao for having removed a Minister of State from office without a decree. Tsʻao’s reply to this was the arrest of Chao and his execution, a bold stroke which terrified the bulk of officers and reduced them to silence.
Chʻêng Yü advised Tsʻao to assume a more definite position. He said, “Illustrious Sir, your prestige grows daily; why not seize the opportunity to take the position of Chief of the Feudatory Princes?”
“There are still too many supporters of the Court,” was the reply. “I must be careful. I am going to propose a royal hunt to try to find out the best line to follow.”
This expedition being decided upon they got together fleet horses, famous falcons and pedigree hounds, and prepared bows and arrows in readiness. They mustered a strong force of guards outside the city.
When the Minister proposed the hunting expedition the Emperor said he feared it was an improper thing to do.
Tsʻao replied, “In ancient times rulers made four expeditions yearly at each of the four seasons in order to show their strength. They were called Sou, Miao, Hsien and Shou, in the order of the seasons. Now that the whole country is in confusion it would be wise to inaugurate a hunt in order to train the army. I am sure Your Majesty will approve.”
So the Emperor with the full paraphernalia for an Imperial hunt joined the expedition. He rode a saddle horse, carried an inlaid bow, and his quiver was filled with gold-tipped arrows. His chariot followed behind. The three brothers were in the Imperial train, each with his bow and quiver. Each wore a breastplate under the outer robe and held his especial weapon, while their escort followed them. Tsʻao Tsʻao rode a dun horse called “Flying Lightning” and the army was ten legions strong.
The hunt took place in Hsütʻien and the legions spread out as guards round the hunting arena which extended over some two hundred square li. Tsʻao Tsʻao rode even with the Emperor, the horses’ heads alternating in the lead. The imperial suite immediately following were all in Tsʻao’s confidence. The other officers, civil and military, lagged behind, for who dared press forward into the midst of Tsʻao’s partizans?
One day the Emperor was riding near Hsütʻien and noticed his newly found uncle respectfully standing by the roadside.
“I should like to see my uncle display his hunting skill,” said the Emperor.
Liu Pei mounted his steed at once. Just then a hare started from its form; Yüan-tê shot and hit it with the first arrow.
The Emperor, much struck by this display, rode away over a slope. Suddenly a deer broke out of the thicket. He shot three arrows at it but all missed.
“You try,” said the Emperor turning to Tsʻao.
“Lend me Your Majesty’s bow,” he replied, and taking the inlaid bow and the golden-barbed arrows he pulled the bow and hit the deer in the shoulder at the first shot. It fell in the grass and could not run.
Now the crowd of officers seeing the golden-barbed arrow sticking in the wound concluded at once that the shot was the Emperor’s, so they rushed up and shouted “Wansui! O King, live for ever!” Tsʻao Tsʻao rode out pushing past the Emperor and acknowledged the congratulations.
They all turned pale. What did this mean? Liu Pei’s brother Kuan who was behind him was especially angry. The sleeping caterpillar eyebrows stood up fiercely and the red phoenix eyes glared as, sword in hand, he rode hastily forth to cut down the audacious Minister for his impertinence. However, his elder brother hastily waved him back and shot at him a meaning glance so that he stopped and made no further move.
Yüan-tê bowing toward Tsʻao said, “Most sincere felicitations! A truly supernatural shot, such as few have achieved!”
“It is only the enormous good fortune of the Son of Heaven!” said Tsʻao with a smile.
Then he turned his steed and felicitated the Emperor. But he did not return the bow; he hung it over his own shoulder instead.
The hunt finished with banqueting and when the entertainments were over they returned to the capital, all glad of some repose after the expedition. Kuan Yü was still full of the Minister’s breach of decorum.
One day he said, “Brother, why did you prevent me from killing that rebel and so ridding the world of a scoundrel? He insults the Emperor and ignores everybody else.”
“When you throw stones at a rat, beware of the vase,” quoted Yüan-tê. “Tsʻao Tsʻao was only a horse’s head away from Our Lord and in the midst of a crowd of his partizans. In that momentary burst of anger, if you had struck and failed, and harm had come to the Emperor, what an awful crime would have been laid to us!”
“If we do not rid the world of him to-day, a worse evil will come of it,” said Kuan.
“But be discreet, my brother. Such matters cannot be lightly discussed.”
The Emperor sadly returned to his palace. With tears in his eyes he related what had occurred in the hunt to his consort the Empress Fu.
“Alas for me!” said he. “From the first days of my accession one vicious minister has succeeded another. I was the victim of Tung Cho’s evil machinations; then followed the rebellion of Li Tsʻui and Kuo Ssŭ. You and I had to bear sorrows such as no others have borne. Then came this Tsʻao Tsʻao as one who would maintain the imperial dignity, but he has seized upon all real authority and does as he wishes. He works continually for his own glorification and I never see him but my back pricks. These last few days in the hunting field he went in front of me and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd. He is so extremely rude that I feel sure he has sinister designs against me. Alas, my wife, we know not when our end may come!”
“In a whole Court full of nobles who have eaten the bread of Han, is there not one who will save his country?” said she.
Thus spake the Empress, and at the same moment there stepped in a man who said, “Grieve not, O Imperial Pair! I can find a saviour for the country.”
And who was this? It was none other than the father of the Empress, Fu Wan.
“Have you heard of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s wanton and perverse behaviour?” said the Emperor, drying his eyes.
“You mean the deer shooting? Who did not see that indeed? But the whole Court is full of his clan or his creatures. With the exception of the relatives of your Consort there is not one loyal enough to deal with a rebel. I have no authority and can do nothing, but there is General Tung Chʻêng, the State Uncle, who could do it.”
“Could Uncle Tung come in to consult about this? I know he has had much experience of State troubles.”
Wan replied, “Every one of your attendants is a partizan of Tsʻao’s and this sort of thing must be kept most profoundly secret or the consequence will be most serious.”
“Then what can be done?” said the Emperor.
“The only plan I can think of is to send gifts of a robe and a jade girdle to Tung, and in the lining of the girdle hide a secret edict authorising him to take certain steps. When he gets home and has read the edict he can elaborate plans as quickly as possible and neither the spirits above nor the demons below will know anything about them.”
The Emperor approved and Fu Wan went out. The Emperor then with his own hand drew up a decree, writing it with blood drawn by biting his finger. He gave the document to his consort to sew into the purple lining of the girdle. When all was done he put on the robe and girded it with the girdle. Next he bade one of the attendants summon Uncle Tung to the palace.
Tung Chʻêng came and after the ceremonies were finished the Emperor said, “A few nights ago I was talking with the Empress of the terrible days of the rebellion and we thought of your good services then, therefore we have called you in to reward you.”
The minister bowed his head in thanks. Then the Emperor led Tung out of the Reception Hall to the Tʻai Miao or Temple of Ancestors, and they went to the gallery of Worthy Ministers, where the Emperor burned incense and performed the usual ceremonies. After this they went to see the portraits and among them was one of the Founder of the Dynasty, Han Kao-Tsu.
“Whence sprang our great ancestor and how did he begin his great achievement?” said the Emperor.
“Your Majesty is pleased to joke with thy servant,” said Tung Chʻêng, rather startled at the question. “Who does not know the deeds of the Sacred Ancestor? He began life as a minor official in Ssŭshang. There gripping his sword he slew the White Serpent, the beginning of his struggle for the right. Speedily he mastered the Empire; in three years had destroyed Tsʻin and, in five, also Chʻu. Thus he set up a Dynasty that shall endure for ever.”
“Such heroic forefathers! such weakling descendants! How sad it is!” said the Emperor.
Pointing to the portraits right and left he continued, “Are not these two Chang Liang, Marquis Liu, and Hsiao Ho, Marquis Tsʻuan?”
“Certainly. Your great ancestor was greatly assisted by these two.”
The Emperor glanced right and left. His attendants were rather far away. Then he whispered to Tung Chʻêng, “You, like these two, must stand by me.”
“My poor services are of no worth; I do not compare with those men,” said the Uncle.
“I remember that you saved me at the western capital. I have never forgotten and I could never reward you.” Then pointing to his own robe the Emperor continued, “You must wear this robe of mine, girded with my own girdle, and it will be as though you are always near your Emperor.”
Tung Chʻêng bowed his gratitude while the Emperor, taking off the robe, presented it to his faithful Minister. At the same time he whispered, “Examine it closely when you get home, and help your Emperor carry out his intention.”
Tung Chʻêng understood. He put on the robe and the girdle, took leave and left the chamber.
The news of the audience for Tung Chʻêng had been taken to the Minister, who at once went to the Palace and arrived as Tung Chʻêng was passing out at the gate. They met face to face and Tung Chʻêng could in nowise avoid him. He went to the side of the road and made his obeisance.
“Where are you from, State Uncle?” asked Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“His Majesty summoned me into the Palace and has given me this robe and beautiful girdle.”
“Why did he give you these?”
“He had not forgotten that I saved his life in the old days.”
“Take it off and let me see it.”
Tung Chʻêng who knew that a secret decree was hidden away somewhere in the garments was afraid Tsʻao Tsʻao would notice a breach somewhere in the material, so he hesitated and did not obey. But the tyrant called his servants. So he took off the girdle. Then Tsʻao looked it over carefully. “It certainly is a very handsome girdle,” said he. “Now take off the robe and let me look at that.”
Tung Chʻêng’s heart was melting with fear but he dared not disobey. So he handed over the robe. Tsʻao took it and held it up against the sun with his own hand and minutely examined every part of it. When he had done this he put it on, girded it with the girdle and turning to his suite said, “How is it for length?”
“Beautiful!” they chorussed.
Turning to Tung Chʻêng he said, “Will you give these to me?”
“My King’s presents to me I dare not give to another. Let me give you another robe in its stead,” said Tung.
“Is there not some intrigue connected with these presents? I am sure there is,” said Tsʻao.
“How could I dare?” said Tung, trembling. “If you are so set upon it then I must give it up.”
“How could I take away what your King has given you? It was all a joke,” said the Minister.
He returned both robe and girdle and their owner made the best of his way home. When night came and he was alone in his library, he took out the robe and looked over every inch of it most carefully. He found nothing.
“He gave me a robe and a girdle and bade me look at them carefully. That means there is something to be looked for but I can find no trace of it. What does it mean?” he soliloquised.
Then he lifted the girdle and examined that. The jade plates were carved into the semblance of small dragons interlaced among flowers. The lining was of purple silk. All was sewn together most carefully and neatly and he could find nothing out of the common. He was puzzled. He laid the belt on the table. Presently he picked it up and looked at it again. He spent long hours over it but in vain. He leaned over on the small table, his head resting on his hands and was almost asleep, when a candle snuff fell down upon the girdle and burned a hole in the lining. He hastily shook it off, but the mischief was done: a small hole had been burned in the silken lining, and through this there appeared something white with blood red marks. He hastily ripped it open and drew out the decree written by the hand of the Emperor himself in characters of blood.
It read, “Of human relationships, that between father and son stands first; of the various social ties that between Prince and Minister stands highest. To-day Tsʻao Tsʻao, the wicked, is a real tyrant, treating even his Prince with indignity. With the support of his faction and his army he has destroyed the principles of government. By conferring rewards and inflicting punishments he has reduced the Emperor to a nonentity. I have grieved over this day and night. I have feared the Empire would be ruined.
“You are a high Minister of State and my own relative. You must recall the difficulties of the great Founder’s early days and draw together the loyal and right-minded to destroy this evil faction and restore the prerogatives of the Throne. Such a deed would be indeed an extreme joy to the spirits of my ancestors.
“This decree, written in blood drawn from my own veins, is confided to a noble who is to be most careful not to fail in executing his Emperor’s design.
“Given in the era Established Tranquillity, fourth year and the third month of Spring.”
So ran the decree and Tung Chʻêng read it with streaming eyes. There was no sleep for him that night. Early in the morning he returned to his library and re-read it. No plan suggested itself. He laid the decree down on the table and sought in the depths of his mind for some scheme to destroy Tsʻao Tsʻao, but could not decide upon any. And he fell asleep leaning over his table.
It happened that a certain official, Wang Tzŭ-fu, with whom he was on terms of great intimacy, came to visit him and, as usual, walked into the house unannounced and went straight to the library. His host did not wake and Wang noticed, hardly hidden by his sleeve, the Emperor’s writing. Wondering what this might be he drew it out, read it and put it in his own sleeve. Then he called out loud, “Uncle Chʻêng, are you not well? Why are you asleep at this time of day?”
Tung Chʻêng started up and at once missed the decree. He was aghast; he almost fell to the ground.
“So you want to make away with Tsʻao Tsʻao? I shall have to tell him,” said Wang.
“Then, brother, that is the end of the Hans,” said his host, with tears.
“I was joking,” said Wang. “My forefathers also served the Hans and ate of their bounty. Am I devoid of loyalty? I would help you, brother, as far as lies in my power.”
“It is well for the country that you think like this,” said Tung.
“But we ought to have a more private place than this to talk over such plans and pledge ourselves to sacrifice all in the cause of Han.”
Tung Chʻêng began to feel very satisfied. He produced a roll of white silk and wrote his own name at the top and signed it, and Wang followed suit. Then the visitor said, “General Wu Tzŭ-lan is one of my best friends, he ought to be allowed to come in.”
Chʻêng replied, “Of all the officials of the Court Chʻung Chi and Wu Shih are my best friends. Certainly they would back me up.”
So the discussion proceeded. Presently a servant announced no other than these very two men.
“This is providential,” said Tung Chʻêng and he told his friend to hide behind a screen.
The two guests were led into the library and after the exchange of the ordinary civilities and a cup of tea, Chʻung Chi referred to the incident at the hunt and the shooting of the stag. “Were you not angry at that?” said he.
Tung Chʻêng answered, “Though we be angry, what can we do?”
Wu Shih struck in, “I would slay this fellow, I swear, but I cannot get any one to back me up.”
“Though one should perish for one’s country one should not mind,” said Chʻung Chi.
At this moment Wang Tzŭ-fu appeared from behind the screen, saying, “You two want to kill Tsʻao! I shall have to let him know this. And Uncle Tung is my witness.”
“A loyal Minister does not mind death. If we are killed we will be Han ghosts, which is better than being sycophants of a traitor.”
Tung Chʻêng said, “We were just saying we wanted to see you two on this matter. Wang is only joking.”
Then he drew forth the decree and showed it to the two new-comers, who also wept as they read it. They were asked to add their names.
Tzŭ-fu said, “Wait here a few moments till I get Wu Tzŭ-lan to come.”
He left the room and very soon returned with his friend, who also wrote his name in the presence of all the others.
After this they went into one of the inner chambers to drink success to the new plot. While there a new visitor, Ma Tʻêng, Prefect of Hsiliang, was announced.
“Say I am indisposed,” said the host, “and cannot receive visitors.”
The doorkeeper took the message, whereat Ma angrily said, “Last night at the Tunghua Gate I saw him come out in robe and girdle. How can he pretend illness to-day? I am not come from mere idleness, why does he refuse to see me?”
The doorkeeper went in again and told his master what the visitor had said and that he was very angry. Then Chʻêng rose, excused himself saying he would soon return, and went to receive Ma Tʻêng. After the visitor had saluted and they were both seated, he said, “I have just come from a farewell audience and wished to bid you adieu. Why did you want to put me off?”
“My poor body was taken suddenly ill; that is why I was not waiting to welcome you,” said Chʻêng.
“You do not look as if you were ill; your face wears the very bloom of health,” said Tʻêng bluntly.
His host could say no more and was silent. The visitor shook out his sleeves and rose to depart. He sighed deeply as he walked down the steps, saying to himself, “Not one of them is any good: there is no one to save the country.”
This speech sank deeply into Tung Chʻêng’s heart. He stopped his guest, saying, “Who is no good to save the country? Whom do you mean?”
“That incident at the hunt the other day, the shooting of the stag, filled my breast with anger. But if you, a near relative of the Emperor, can pass your time in wine and idle dalliance without a thought of doing away with rebellion, where can any one be found who will save the dynasty?”
However, Tung Chʻêng’s doubts were not set at rest. Pretending great surprise he replied, “The Minister is of high rank and has the confidence of the Court: why then does he utter such things?”
“So you find that wretch Tsʻao a good man, eh?”
“Pray speak lower: there are eyes and ears very near us.”
“The sort of people who covet life and fear death are not those to discuss any great undertaking.”
So saying he rose to go away. By this time his host’s doubts were set at rest: he felt that Ma Tʻêng was loyal and patriotic. So he said, “Do not be angry any more. I will show you something.”
Whereupon he invited Ma Tʻêng to go into the room where the others were seated and then showed him the decree. As Ma read it his hair stood on end, he ground his teeth and bit his lips till the blood came.
“When you move, remember the whole force of my army is ready to help,” said he.
Tung Chʻêng introduced him to the other conspirators and then the pledge was produced and Ma Tʻêng was told to sign his name. He did so, at the same time smearing the blood as a sign of the oath and saying, “I swear to die rather than betray this pledge.”
Pointing to the five he said, “We require ten for this business and we can accomplish our design.”
“We cannot get many true and loyal men. One of the wrong sort will spoil all,” said Tung Chʻêng.
Ma Tʻêng told them to bring in the list of officials. He read on till he came to the name Liu, of the Imperial clan, when clapping his hands he cried, “Why not consult him?”
“Whom?” cried they altogether.
Ma Tʻêng very slowly and deliberately spoke his name.
To a very trusty servant comes an Emperor’s decree, And a scion of the ruling house can prove his loyalty.
If the reader turns to the next chapter he will see who was Ma Tʻêng’s hero.
Chapter XXI
TSʻAO TSʻAO DISCUSSES HEROES: KUAN YU SLAYS CHʻÊ CHOU.
“Who is it?” was the question on the lips of the conspirators.
Ma Tʻêng’s reply was, “The Governor of Yüchow, Liu Pei. He is here and we will ask him to help.”
“Though he is an uncle of the Emperor, he is at present a partizan of our enemy, and he will not join.”
“But I saw something at the hunt,” said Ma Tʻêng. “When Tsʻao Tsʻao advanced to acknowledge the congratulations due to the Emperor, Yüan-tê’s sworn brother Kuan Yü was behind him, and grasped his sword as if to cut down Tsʻao Tsʻao. However, Yüan-tê signed to him to hold his hand and he did. He would willingly destroy Tsʻao, only he thinks his teeth and claws are too many. You must ask him and he will surely consent.”
Here Wu Shih urged caution. “Do not go too fast,” said he. “Let us consider the thing most carefully.”
They dispersed. Next day after dark Tung Chʻêng went to Liu Pei’s lodging taking with him the decree. As soon as he was announced Yüan-tê came to greet him and led him into a private room where they could talk freely. The two younger brothers were there as well.
“It must be something unusually important that has brought you here to-night,” said Pei.
“If I had ridden forth by daylight, Tsʻao might have suspected something so I came by night.”
Wine was brought in and while they were drinking Tung Chʻêng said, “Why did you check your brother the other day at the hunt when he was going to attack Tsʻao Tsʻao?”
Yüan-tê was startled and said, “How did you know?”
“Nobody noticed but I saw.”
Yüan-tê could not prevaricate and said, “It was the presumption of the man that made my brother so angry; he could not help it.”
The visitor covered his face and wept. “Ah,” said he, “if all the Court Ministers were like him, there would be no sighs for lack of tranquillity.”
Now Yüan-tê felt that possibly Tsʻao Tsʻao had sent his visitor to try him, so he cautiously replied, “Where are the sighs for lack of tranquillity while Tsʻao Tsʻao is at the head of affairs?”
Tung Chʻêng changed colour and rose from his seat. “You, Sir, are a relative of His Majesty and so I showed you my inmost feelings. Why did you mislead me?”
“Because I feared you might be misleading me, and I wanted to find out.”
At this Tung Chʻêng drew out the decree he had received and showed it. His host was deeply moved. Then he produced the pledge. There were only six names to it and these were Tung Chʻêng, Wang Tzŭ-fu, Chʻung Chi, Wu Shih, Wu Tzŭ-lan and Ma Tʻêng.
“Since you have a decree like this, I cannot but do my share,” said Liu Pei and at Tung Chʻêng’s request he added his name and signature to the others and handed it back.
“Now let us but get three more, which will make ten, and we shall be ready to act.”
“But you must move with great caution and not let this get abroad,” said Yüan-tê.
The two remained talking till an early hour in the morning when the visitor left.
Now in order to put Tsʻao Tsʻao quite off the scent that any plot against him was in progress, Liu Pei began to devote himself to gardening, planting vegetables and watering them with his own hands. His brothers ventured to remonstrate with him for taking to such an occupation when great matters needed attention.
“The reason for this you may not know,” replied he. And they said no more.
One day when the two brothers were absent and Yüan-tê was busy in his garden, two messengers with an escort came from Tsʻao Tsʻao, saying, “The command of the Minister is that you come at once.”
“What important affair is afoot?” asked he nervously.
“We know nothing: we were ordered to come and request your presence.”
All he could do was to follow. When he arrived Tsʻao met him and laughingly said, “That is a big business you have in hand at home.”
This remark made Liu Pei turn the colour of clay. But Tsʻao took him by the hand and led him straight to the private garden, saying, “The growth of vegetables that you are trying to learn is very difficult.”
Yüan-tê breathed again. He said, “That is hardly a business, it is only a solace.”
Tsʻao said, “I happened to notice the green plums on the trees to-day and suddenly my thoughts went back to a year ago when we were thrashing Chang Hsiu. We were marching through a parched district and every one was suffering from thirst. Suddenly I lifted my whip and pointing at something in the distance I said, “Look at those plum trees.” The soldiers heard it and it made their mouths water. Now I owe something to the plums and we will pay it to-day. I ordered the servants to heat some wine very hot and sent to invite you to share it.”
Yüan-tê was quite composed by this time and no longer suspected any sinister design. He went with his host to a small summer house, where the wine cups were already laid out and green plums filled the dishes. After a goblet of wine had been swallowed they sat down to a confidential talk and enjoyment of their wine.
As they drank the weather gradually changed, clouds gathering and threatening rain. The servants pointed out a mass of cloud that looked like a dragon hung in the sky. Both host and guest went to the window and leaned over the rail looking at it.
“Do you understand the evolutions of dragons?” asked Tsʻao of the guest.
“Not in detail.”
“A dragon can assume any size, can rise in glory or hide from sight. Bulky, it generates clouds and evolves mist; attenuated, it can scarcely hide a mustard stalk or conceal a shadow. Mounting, it can soar to the empyrean; subsiding, it lurks in the uttermost depths of the ocean. This is the mid-spring season and the dragon chooses this moment for his transformations, like a man realising his desires and overrunning the world. The dragon among animals compares with the hero among men. You, O Yüan-tê, with your experience must know who are the heroes of the present day and I wish you would say who they are.”
“How can a dullard like me know such things?”
“Do not be so modest.”
“Thanks to your kindly protection I have a post at Court. But as to heroes I really do not know who they are.”
“You may not have looked upon their faces, but you have heard their names.”
“Yüan Shu, with his resources; is he one?”
His host laughed, “A rotting bone in a graveyard. I shall put him out of the way shortly.”
“Well, Yüan Shao then. The highest offices of State have been held in his family for four generations and his clients are many. He is firmly posted in Ichou and he commands the services of many able men. Surely he is one.”
“A bully, but a coward; he is fond of grandiose schemes, but is devoid of decision; he makes for great things but grudges the necessary toil. He loses sight of everything else in view of a little present advantage. He is not one.”
“There is Liu Ching-shêng. He is renowned as a man of perfection, whose fame has spread on all sides. Surely he is a hero.”
“He is a mere semblance, a man of vain reputation. No; not he.”
“Sun Tsʻê is a sturdy sort, the chief of all in the east. Is he a hero?”
“He has profited by his father’s reputation; he is no hero.”
“What of Liu Chang?”
“Though he is of the reigning family, he is nothing more than a watch dog. How could you make a hero of him?”
“What about Chang Hsiu, Chang Lu, Han Sui and all those?”
Tsʻao clapped his hands and laughed very loudly. “Paltry people like them are not worth mentioning.”
“With these exceptions I really know none.”
“Now heroes are men who cherish lofty designs in their bosoms and have plans to achieve them; they have all-embracing schemes and the whole world is at their mercy.”
“Who is such a man?” said Yüan-tê.
Tsʻao pointed his finger first at his guest and then at himself, saying, “The only heroes in the world are you and I.”
Yüan-tê gasped and the spoon and chopsticks rattled to the floor. Now just at that moment the storm burst with a tremendous peal of thunder and rush of rain. Yüan-tê stooped down to recover the fallen articles, saying, “What a shock! and it was quite close.”
“What! are you afraid of thunder?” said Tsʻao.
Yüan-tê replied, “The wise man paled at a sudden peal of thunder or fierce gust of wind. Why should one not fear?”
Thus he glossed over the real fact, that it was the words he had heard that had so startled him.
Constrained to lodge in a tiger’s lair, He played a waiting part, But when Tsʻao talked of breaking men, Then terror gripped his heart. But he cleverly used the thunder peal As excuse for turning pale; O quick to seize occasions thus! He surely must prevail.
The shower had passed and there appeared two men rushing through the garden, both armed. In spite of the attendants they forced their way to the pavilion where sat the two friends. They were Kuan Yü and Chang Fei.
The two brothers had been outside the city at archery practice when Tsʻao Tsʻao’s invitation had come so peremptorily. On their return they heard that two officers had arrived and led away Yüan-tê to the Minister. They hastened to his palace and were told their brother was with his host in the grounds and they feared something had happened. So they rushed in. Now when they saw their brother quietly talking with Tsʻao and enjoying a cup of wine, they took up their usual places and meekly stood waiting.
“Why did you come?” said Tsʻao Tsʻao.
“We heard that you, Sir, had invited our brother to a wine party and we came to amuse you with a little sword play,” said they.
“This is not a Hungmên banquet,” replied Tsʻao. “What use have we for two Hsiangs?”
Yüan-tê smiled. The host ordered wine to be served to the two “Fan Kʻuai” to allay their excitement and, soon after, the three took their leave and returned homeward.
“We were nearly frightened to death,” said Kuan Yü.
The story of the dropped chopsticks was told. The two asked what their brother intended by his actions and he told them that his learning gardening was to convince Tsʻao Tsʻao of his perfect simplicity and the absence of any ambition. “But,” said he, “when he suddenly pointed to me as one of the heroes I was startled, for I thought he had some suspicions. Happily the thunder at that moment supplied the excuse I wanted.”
“Really you are very clever,” said they.
Next day Tsʻao again invited Yüan-tê and while the two were drinking, Man Chʻung, who had been despatched to find out what Yüan Shao was doing, came to present his report.
He said, “Kungsun Tsan has been completely defeated by Yüan.”
“Do you know the details? I should like to know how,” interrupted Liu Pei.
“They were at war and Tsan got the worst of it, so he acted on the defensive, building a high wall about his army and on that erecting a high tower, which he called the I-ching Tower. Therein he placed all his grain and took up his own quarters. His fighting men passed in and out without ceasing, some going out to give battle, others returning to rest. One of them was surrounded and sent to ask Kungsun to rescue him. Kungsun said, “If I rescue him, hereafter every one will want to be helped and will not exert himself.” So he did not go. This disgusted his men and many deserted to the enemy so that his army diminished. He sent letters to the capital to crave help, but the messenger was captured. He sent to Chang Yen to arrange with him for a joint attack and those letters with the plans also fell into Shao’s hands and the plans were adopted by his enemy, who gave the signals agreed upon. Thus Tsan fell into an ambush, lost heavily and retreated into the city. There he was besieged and a subterranean passage was pierced into the tower where he lodged. The tower was set on fire and Kungsun could not escape. So he slew his wife and little ones and committed suicide. The flames destroyed the bodies of the whole family.
“Yüan Shao has added the remnants of the vanquished army to his own and so become yet stronger. His brother Yüan Shu in Honan, however, has become so arrogant and cruel that the people have turned against him. Then he had sent to say he would yield the title of Emperor, which he had assumed, in favour of his brother. His brother Shao demanded the seal also and Yüan Shu promised to bring it in person. Now he has abandoned Huainan and is about to occupy Hopei. If he succeeded, the two brothers will control adjoining districts and be dangerous.”
It was a sad story and Yüan-tê remembered with sorrow that, in the days of success and prosperity, the dead chieftain had pushed his interest and shown him much kindness. Moreover he was anxious to know the fate of Chao Tzŭ-lung.
In his heart he thought, “What better chance am I likely to get of setting myself free?”
So he rose and said to Tsʻao Tsʻao, “If Yüan Shu goes over to join his brother he will surely pass through Hsüchou. I beg you to give me an army with which to smite him on the way. That will finish Yüan Shu.”
“Memorialise the Emperor to-morrow and I will give you an army,” said Tsʻao.
So next day Yüan-tê went to an audience and Tsʻao gave him command of five legions, horse and foot, and sent Chu Ling and Lu Chao with him.
At parting with Liu Pei the Emperor shed tears. As soon as he reached his lodging he set about preparations for immediate departure, returning his seal as General and preparing his weapons. Tung Chʻêng went out some distance on the road to bid him farewell.
“You must not mind my going; this journey will assuredly help on the scheme,” said Liu Pei.
“Keep your mind fixed on that,” said Tung, “and never forget what His Majesty requires of us.”
They parted. Presently his brothers asked him why he was in such a hurry to get away.
He replied, “I have been a bird in a cage, a fish in a net. This is like the fish regaining the open sea and the bird soaring into the blue sky. I suffered much from the confinement.”
Now Kuo Chia and Chʻêng Yü had been absent inspecting stores and supplies when Liu Pei left. As soon as they heard of his expedition they went in to see their master, asking him why he had let Liu Pei go in command of an army.
“He is going to cut off Yüan Shu.”
“Formerly, when he was governor of Yüchou, we recommended that he should be put to death but you would not hear of it. Now you have given him an army. You have allowed the dragon to reach the sea, the tiger to return to the mountains. What control will you have in future?”
So spoke Chʻêng Yü and Kuo Chia followed in the same strain.
“Even if you would not put him to death you need not have let him go. As the proverb says, ‘Relax opposition for one day and age-long harm ensues.’ You must admit the truth of this.”
Tsʻao recognised that these were prudent counsels so he sent Hsü Chʻu with a half company and imperative orders to bring Yüan-tê back again.
Liu Pei was marching as rapidly as possible when he noticed a cloud of dust in the rear and remarked to his brothers, “Surely they are pursuing us.”
He halted and made a stockade and ordered his brothers to be in readiness, one on each flank. Presently the messenger arrived and found himself in the midst of an army ready for battle. He dismounted and entered the camp to speak with Yüan-tê.
“Sir, on what business have you come?” asked Pei.
“The Minister has sent me to request you to return as he has further matters to discuss with you.”
“When a general has once taken the field even the royal command is of no effect. I bade farewell to the Emperor, I received the Minister’s commands and there can be nothing further to talk about. You may return forthwith and take that as my reply.”
The messenger was undecided what action to take. He knew of the friendship that existed between the Minister and his late guest and he had no orders to kill. He could only return with this reply and ask further instructions. So he left. When he related what had occurred Tsʻao still hesitated to take any action. His advisers urged upon him that this refusal to return meant enmity.
“Still, two of my men are with him,” said Tsʻao. “He will not dare do anything unfriendly, I think. Beside, I sent him and I cannot go back on my own orders.”
So Yüan-tê was not pursued.
He took his arms, he fed his steed, And fared forth willingly, Intent to accomplish his King’s behest Deep graved on his memory. At least he had broken out of his cage, He heard not the tiger’s roar, He had shaken the shackles from his feet, As a dragon on high could soar.
As soon as Ma Tʻêng heard that Liu Pei had set forth he reported that pressing business called him and marched back to his own district.
When Yüan-tê reached Hsüchou the governor, Chʻê Chou, came to meet him, and when the official banquet was over, Sun Chʻien and Mi Chu came to visit him. Then he proceeded to his residence to greet his family.
Scouts were sent out to see what Yüan Shu was doing. They came back with the intelligence that his arrogance had driven away his banditti allies, who had returned to their mountain fastnesses. His forces thus reduced he had written resigning the Imperial style he had assumed in favour of his brother Shao, who had at once commanded his presence. Thereupon he packed up the palace fittings he had had made, got the remnants of his army in order and marched west.
When he neared Hsüchou, Yüan-tê led out his captains with the five legions to meet him. Yüan sent out Chi Ling to force a way through. But Chang Fei opposed him and attacked without a parley. In the tenth bout he cut down Chi Ling. The defeated soldiers fled in all directions.
Then Yüan Shu came up with his own army. Yüan-tê placed his captains right and left, he himself being in the centre, and so met Yüan Shu. As soon as the enemy came near Yüan-tê began to abuse him. “O rebellious one, and wicked, I have a command to destroy you. Yield, then, with good grace and so escape your punishment.”
“Base weaver of mats and mean maker of straw sandals, how dare you make light of me?” replied Shu and he gave the signal for an attack.
Yüan-tê retired and his captains from the flanks closed in. They smote the army of Shu till corpses littered the plain and blood flowed in streams. At the same time the bandits attacked the baggage train and completed the destruction. Shu tried to retreat to Shouchʻun but the bandits barred the road.
He sought refuge in Chiangtʻing, with the small company left of all his army. And these were the weakly ones able neither to fight nor flee. It was then the height of summer and their food was nearly exhausted. The whole provision consisted of thirty measures of wheat. This was made over to the soldiers and the members of his household went hungry. Many died of actual starvation. Yüan Shu could not swallow the coarse food that the soldiers lived on. One day he bade his cook bring him some honey-water to quench his thirst.
“There is no water, save that tainted with blood,” replied the cook. “Where can I get honey-water?”
This was the last straw. Shu sat up on his couch and rolled out on the floor with a loud cry. Blood gushed from his mouth and thus he died. It was the sixth month of the fourth year of “Established Tranquillity.”
The last days of Han approached and weapons clashed in every quarter, The misguided Yüan Shu, lost to all sense of honour, Forgetful of his forefathers, who had filled the State’s highest Offices, Madly aspired to become himself Emperor, Resting his outrageous claim on the possession of The Seal, And arrogantly boasting that thus he fulfilled the design of Heaven. Alas! Sick unto death he vainly begged for a little honey-water; He died, alone.
Yüan Shu being dead, his nephew taking his coffin and his wife and children, sought shelter in Luchiang. There the magistrate, Hsü Chʻiu, slew all the survivors. Among the possessions he found the Imperial Seal, which he at once took to the capital and presented to Tsʻao Tsʻao, for which service he was made Prefect of Kaoling.
When Yüan-tê heard that Yüan Shu was dead he prepared a report to the throne, and sent it to Tsʻao Tsʻao. He sent the two officers deputed by Tsʻao Tsʻao back to the capital, keeping the army to defend Hsüchou. He also personally went through the country-side commanding the people to resume their ordinary avocations.
Tsʻao Tsʻao was angry when his two officers returned without their man and was going to put them to death. Hsün Yü reasoned with him.
“The power was in Liu Pei’s hands and so these two had no alternative,” said he.
So they were pardoned.
“You should instruct Chʻê Chou to try to destroy him,” said Yü.
Accordingly he sent secret orders to Chʻê Chou, who took Chʻên Têng into his confidence and asked his advice. Têng advised an ambush in the city gate to attack Liu Pei on his return from the country; he himself would attack the escort with arrows from the city walls. Chʻê agreed to try this.
Then Têng went to his father to tell him. His father Chʻên Kuei bade him go and warn the intended victim. He at once rode away to do so. Before long he met the two younger brothers, to whom he told his story.
Now Yüan-tê was following some distance behind. As soon as Chang Fei heard of the plot he wanted to attack the ambush, but Yün-chʻang said he had a better plan.
Said he, “The ambush will be a failure. And I think we can compass the death of Chʻê Chou. In the night we will pretend to be some of Tsʻao’s men and entice him out to meet us. We will slay him.”
Chang Fei approved of the plan. Now the soldiers still had some of Tsʻao Tsʻao’s army banners and wore similar armour. About the third watch they came to the city wall and hailed the gate. Those on guard asked who they were. The men replied that they were Chang Wên-yüan’s troop sent from the capital. This was told Chʻê Chou who sent hastily for Chʻên Têng to ask his advice.
“If I do not receive them they will suspect my loyalty,” said he. “Yet if I go out I may be victim of a ruse.”
So he went up on the wall and said it was too dark to distinguish friends from foes and they must wait till daylight. The men shouted back that Liu Pei must be kept in ignorance and they begged him to let them in. Still Chʻê Chou hesitated. They shouted louder than ever to open the gate.
Presently Chʻê girded on his armour, placed himself at the head of a company and went out. He galloped over the bridge, shouting, “Where is Wên-yüan?”
Then lights blazed around and he recognised Kuan Yü with his sword drawn.
“Wretch!” cried Kuan Yü. “You would plot to slay my brother, would you?”
Chʻê Chou was too frightened to make good defence and he turned to re-enter the gate. But as he reached the drawbridge flights of arrows met him, wherefore he turned aside and galloped along under the wall. But Kuan Yü came quickly in pursuit. His sword was raised aloft and as it came down the fugitive fell to the earth. Kuan Yü cut off his head and returned, shouting, “I have slain the traitor. You others need not fear if you only surrender.”
They threw aside their spears and gave in. As soon as the excitement had calmed Kuan Yü took the head to show Yüan-tê and told him the story of the plot.
“But what will Tsʻao Tsʻao think of this?” said Yüan-tê. “And he may come.”
“If he does we can meet him,” said Kuan Yü.
But Yüan-tê was grieved beyond measure. When he entered the city the elders of the people knelt in the road to welcome him. When he reached his residence he found that Chang Fei had already exterminated the family of Chʻê Chou.
Yüan-tê said, “We have slain one of his best friends and how will he stand that?”
“Never mind!” cried Chʻên Têng. “I have a plan.”
Just from grave danger extricated, An injured friend must be placated.
The plan proposed by Chʻên Têng will be disclosed next.
Chapter XXII
YÜAN AND TSʻAO BOTH TAKE THE FIELD: THE TWO BROTHERS CAPTURE TWO CAPTAINS.
This was the plan proposed to Yüan-tê: “Yüan Shao is Tsʻao Tsʻao’s terror. He is strongly posted in an extensive district with a hundred legions of fighting men and many able officers. Write letters and pray him to rescue you.”
Liu Pei replied, “But we have never had any dealings with each other and he is unlikely to do such a thing for one who has just destroyed his brother.”
“There is some one here whose family have been on intimate terms with the Yüans for a hundred years. Shao would surely come if he wrote.”
“And who is this?”
“A man you know well and respect greatly; can you not guess?”
“You surely mean Chêng Kʻang-chʻêng,” said Liu Pei suddenly.
“That is he,” said Chʻên Têng smiling.
Now Chêng Kʻang-chʻêng’s ming was Yüan. He was a student and a man of great talent, who had long studied under Ma Jung. Ma Jung was peculiar as a teacher. Whenever he lectured he let fall a curtain behind which were a circle of singing girls. The students were assembled in front of this curtain. Chêng Yüan attended these lectures for three years and never once let his eyes wander to the curtain.
Naturally the master admired his pupil. After Chêng Yüan had finished his studies and gone home Ma Jung praised him to the others, saying, “Only one man has penetrated the inner meaning of my instructions and that one is Chêng Yüan.”
In the Chêng household the waiting maids were familiar with Mao’s edition of the Odes. Once one of the maids opposed Yüan’s wishes, so as punishment she was made to kneel in front of the steps. Another girl made fun of her, quoting from an ode;—
“What are you doing there in the mire?”
The kneeling girl capped the verse from another ode; quoth she:—
“’Twas but a simple word I said, Yet brought it wrath upon my head.”
Such was the family in which he had been born. In the reign of the Emperor Huan he rose to the rank of President of a Board, but when the Ten Eunuchs began to control the government he gave up office and retired into the country to Hsüchou. Liu Pei had known him before, had consulted him on many occasions and greatly respected him.
Liu Pei was glad that he had remembered this man and without loss of time, in company with Chʻên Têng, he went to his house to ask him to draft this letter, which he generously consented to do.
Sun Chʻien was entrusted with the task of delivery and set out at once. Shao read it and considered the matter long before speaking. “Liu Pei destroyed my brother and I ought not to help him, but out of consideration for the writer of this letter I must.”
Whereupon he assembled his officers to consider an attack upon Tsʻao Tsʻao.
Tʻien Fêng said, “Do not raise an army. The people are worn out and the granaries are empty with these constant wars. Let us rather report the recent victory of Kungsun Tsan to the Throne. If that does not reach the Emperor, then memorialise that Tsʻao Tsʻao is hindering the government. Then raise an army: occupy Liyang, assemble a fleet in Honan, prepare weapons, send out your various divisions and within three years you will win all round.”
The adviser Shên Pʻei replied, “I do not agree. The military genius of our illustrious lord having overcome the hordes of the north, to dispose of Tsʻao is as simple as turning one’s hand; it is not a matter of months.”
Chü Shou said, “Victory is not always to the many. Tsʻao Tsʻao’s discipline is excellent; his soldiers are brave and well drilled. He will not sit down quietly waiting to be surrounded as Kungsun Tsan did. Now you abandon the intention to inform the Throne of our success, which I find a good plan, but you intend to send out an army without any valid excuse. Our lord should not do that.”
Then followed adviser Kuo Tʻu, “You are wrong. No expedition against Tsʻao Tsʻao can lack excuse. But if our master would take the chance now offering itself of coming into his own, he will accede to the request in the letter and ally himself with Liu Pei for the destruction of Tsʻao. This would win the approval of heaven and the affections of the people, a double blessing.”
Thus the four advisers differed and wrangled and Yüan Shao could not decide which to follow. Then there came two others, Hsü Yu and Hsün Shên, and, seeing them, Shao said, “You two have wide experience, how would you decide?”
The two made their obeisance and Yüan Shao said, “A letter from Chêng the President has arrived, counselling me to support Liu Pei in an attack on Tsʻao Tsʻao. Now am I to send an army or not send an army?”
They both cried with one voice, “Send! Your armies are numerous enough and strong enough; you will destroy a traitor and help the dynasty.”
“Your words just express my desire,” said Shao and thenceforward the discussion turned on the expedition.
First Sun Chʻien was sent back with Yüan Shao’s consent and instructions for Liu Pei to make ready to co-operate. Officers were assigned divisions and advisers were told off. The army was to be composed of thirty legions, horse and foot in equal numbers. They were to march on Liyang.
When the arrangements were complete Kuo Tʻu went to his chief saying, “In order to manifest the righteousness of your attack on Tsʻao it would be well to issue a manifesto with a summary of his various crimes.”
Yüan Shao approved of this and a certain Chʻên Lin, well known as a scholar, who had been a Recorder in the late Emperor’s reign, was entrusted to compose such a document. This is the manifesto:—
“A perspicacious ruler wisely provides against political vicissitudes; a loyal minister carefully foresees the difficulties in the assertion of authority. Wherefore a man of unusual parts precedes an extraordinary situation, and of such a man the achievements will be extraordinary. For indeed the ordinary man is quite unequal to an extraordinary situation.
“In former days, after having gained ascendancy over a weakling King of the powerful Tsʻin Dynasty, Chao Kao wielded the whole authority of the Throne, overruling the government. All dignity and fortune came through him and his contemporaries were restrained so that none dared to speak openly. Slowly but surely evolved the tragedy of the Wangi Temple, when the Emperor was slain and the Imperial tablets perished in the flames. He, the author of these crimes, has ever since been held up to obloquy as the arch example of an evil-doer.
“In the later days of the Empress Lü of the Hans the world saw Lü Chan and Lü Lu, brothers of the Empress and fellows in wickedness, monopolising the powers of government. Within the capital they commanded two armies and without they ruled the feudal states of Liang and Chao. They arbitrarily controlled all State affairs and decided all questions in the council chamber and the Court. This dominance of the base and declension of the noble continued till the hearts of the people grew cold within them.
“Thereupon Chou Pʻo, Marquis of Chiang, and Liu Chang, Marquis of Chuhsü, asserted their dignity and let loose their wrath. They destroyed the contumacious ministers and restored their Ruler to his royal state. Thus they enabled the kingly way to be re-established and the glory to be manifested. Here are two instances where ministers asserted their authority.
“This Tsʻao, now a minister, forsooth, had for ancestor a certain eunuch named Tʻêng, fitting companion of Tso Kuan and Hsü Huang. All three were prodigies of wickedness and insatiably avaricious and, let loose on the world, they hindered ethical progress and preyed upon the populace. This Tʻêng begged for and adopted Tsʻao’s father who, by wholesale bribery, wagons of gold and cartloads of jewels presented at the gates of the influential, contrived to sneak his way into considerable office where he could subvert authority. Thus Tsʻao is the depraved bantling of a monstrous excrescence, devoid of all virtue in himself, ferocious and cunning, delighting in disorder and revelling in public calamity.
“Now I, Mu-fu, a man of war, have mustered my armies and displayed my might that I may sweep away and destroy the evil opponents of government. I have already had to deal with Tung Cho, the ruffian who invaded the official circle and wrested the government. At that time I grasped my sword and beat the drums to restore order in the east. I assembled warriors, selected the best and took them into my service. In this matter I came into relations with this Tsʻao and conferred with him to further my scheme. I gave him command of a subordinate force and looked to him to render such petty service as he was equal to. I suffered his stupidities and condoned his shortcomings, his rash attacks and facile retreats, his losses and shameful defeats, his repeated destruction of whole armies. Again and again I sent him more troops and filled the gaps in his depleted ranks. I even addressed a memorial to the Throne for him to be appointed Governor of Yenchou. I made him feared as he were a tiger. I added to his honours and increased his authority, hoping that eventually he would justify himself by a victory such as fell to Mêng Ming of Tsʻin.
“But Tsʻao availed himself of the opportunity to overstep all bounds, to give free rein to violence and evil. He stripped the common people, outraged the good and injured the virtuous. Pien Jang, Prefect of Kiukiang, was a man of conspicuous talent and of world-wide reputation. He was honest in speech and correct in demeanour. He spoke without flattery. He was put to death and his head exposed, and his family utterly destroyed. From that day to this scholars have deeply mourned and popular resentment has steadily grown. One man raised his arm in anger and the whole countryside followed him. Whereupon Tsʻao was smitten at Hsüchou and his district was snatched by Lü Pu. He fled eastward without shelter or refuge.
“My policy is a strong trunk and weak branches, a commanding central government and obedient feudal lords. Also I am no partizan. Therefore I again raised my banners, donned my armour and moved forward to attack. My drums rolled for an assault on Lü Pu and his multitudes incontinently fled. I saved Tsʻao from destruction and restored him to a position of authority. Wherein I must confess to showing no kindness to the people of Yenchou although it was a great matter for Tsʻao.
“Later it happened that the imperial cortège moved west and a horde of rebels rose and attacked. The course of government was hindered. At that moment my territory was threatened from the north and I could not leave it. Wherefore I sent one of my officers to Tsʻao to see to the repair of the temples and the protection of the youthful sovereign. Thereupon Tsʻao gave the rein to his inclinations. He arbitrarily ordered the removal of the Court. He brought shame upon the ruling House and subverted the laws. He engrossed the presidency of the three highest offices and monopolised the control of the administration. Offices and rewards were conferred according to his will; punishment was at his word. He glorified whole families of those he loved; he exterminated whole clans of those he hated. Open critics were executed; secret opponents were assassinated. Officials locked their lips; wayfarers only exchanged glances. Presidents of Boards recorded levies and every government official held a sinecure.
“The late Yang Piao, a man who had filled two of the highest offices of State as President of two Boards, because of some petty grudge was, though guiltless, charged with a crime. He was beaten and suffered every form of cruelty. This arbitrary and impulsive act was a flagrant disregard of constitutional rules.
“Another victim was the Councillor Chao Yan. He was faithful in remonstrance, honest in speech, endowed with the highest principles of rectitude. He was listened to at Court. His words carried enough weight with the Emperor to cause him to modify his intention and confer reward for outspokenness. Desirous of diverting all power into his own hands and stifle all criticism, Tsʻao presumed to arrest and put to death this censor, in defiance of all legal procedure.
“Another evil deed was the destruction of the tomb of Prince Liang Hsiao, the brother of the late Emperor. His tomb should certainly have been respected, even its mulberries and lindera trees, its cypresses and its pines. Tsʻao led soldiers to the cemetery and stood by while it was desecrated, the coffin destroyed and the poor corpse exposed. They stole the gold and jewels of the dead. This deed brought tears to the eyes of the Emperor and rent the hearts of all men. Tsʻao also appointed ‘Openers-of-Grave-Mounds’ and ‘Seekers-for-Gold’ whose tracks were marked by desecrated graves and exhumed bodies. Indeed, while assuming the position of the highest officer of State, he indulged the inclination of a bandit, polluting the State, oppressing the people, a bane to gods and men.
“He added to this by setting up minute and vexatious prohibitions so that there were nets and snares spread in every pathway, traps and pitfalls laid in every road. A hand raised was caught in a net, a foot advanced was taken in an entanglement. Wherefore the men of Yen and Yü waxed desperate and the inhabitants of the metropolis groaned and murmured in anger.
Read down the names through all the years Of ministers that all men curse For greed and cruelty and lust; Than Tsʻao you will not find a worse.
“I have investigated the cases of evil deeds in the provinces, but I have been unable to reform him. I have given him repeated opportunities hoping that he would repent. But he has the heart of a wolf, the nature of a wild beast. He nourishes evil in his bosom and desires to pull down the pillars of the State, to weaken the House of Han, to destroy the loyal and true and to stand himself conspicuous as the chiefest of criminals.
“Formerly, when I attacked the north, Kungsun Tsan, that obstinate bandit and perverse bravo, resisted my might for a year. Before he could be destroyed this Tsʻao wrote to him that, under the pretence of assisting the Imperial armies, he would covertly lead them to destruction. The plot was discovered through his messengers and Tsan also perished. This blunted Tsʻao’s ardour and his plans failed.
“Now he is camped at the Ao Granaries with the river to strengthen his position. Like the mantis in the story, who threatened the chariot with its forelegs, he thinks himself terrible. But with the dignity and prestige of Han to support me I confront the whole world. I have spearmen by millions, horsemen by thousands of squadrons, fierce and vigorous warriors strong as Chung Huang, Hsia Yu and Wu Huo, those heroes of antiquity. I have enlisted expert archers and strong bowmen. In Pingchou my armies have crossed the Tʻaihang Range and in Chingchou they have forded the Chi and Tʻa Rivers. They have coasted down the Yellow River to attack his van, and from Chingchou they have descended to Wanyeh to smite his rearguard. Thunder-like in the weight of their march, tiger-like in the alertness of their advance, they converge on Lotʻing. They are as flames let loose among light grass, as the blue ocean poured on glowing embers. Is there any hope that he escape destruction?
“Of the hordes of Tsʻao, those who can fight are from the north or from other camps and they all desire to return home. They weep whenever they look to the north. The others belong to Yen or Yü, being remnants of the armies of Lü Pu and Chang Yang. Beaten, stern necessity forced them to accept service, but they take it only as a temporary expedient. Every man who has been wounded is an enemy. If I give the signal to return and send my drums and shawms to the mountain tops, and wave the white flag to show them they may surrender, they will melt away like dew before the sun and no blood will be shed. The victory will be mine.
“Now the Hans are failing and the bonds of Empire are relaxed. The sacred Dynasty has no supporter, the Ministers are not strong enough to cope with the difficulties. Within the capital the responsible Ministers are crestfallen and helpless. There is no one to rely upon. Such loyal and high principled men as are left are browbeaten by a tyrannical Minister. How can they manifest their virtue?
“Tsʻao has surrounded the Palace with seven hundred veterans, the ostensible object being to guard the Emperor, but the covert design being to hold him prisoner. I fear this is but the first step in usurpation and so I take my part. Now is the time for loyal Ministers to sacrifice their lives, the opportunity for officers to perform meritorious deeds. Can I fail to urge you?
“Tsʻao has forged commands to himself to undertake the control of government affairs and, in the name of the State, sends out calls for military assistance. I fear lest distant districts may obey his behest and send troops to help him, to the detriment of the multitude and their everlasting shame. No wise man will do so.
“The forces of four prefectures are moving out simultaneously. When this call reaches Chingchou you will see their forces co-operate with those of Chang Hsiu. All districts and departments ought to organise volunteers and set them along their borders to demonstrate their force and prove their loyal support of the Dynasty. Will not this be rendering extraordinary service?
“The rank of Marquis, with feudal rights over five thousand households and a money reward of fifty millions, will be the reward of him who brings the head of Tsʻao. No questions will be asked of those who surrender. I publish abroad this notice of my bounty and the rewards offered that you may realise that the Dynasty is in real danger.”
Shao read this effusion with great joy. He at once ordered copies to be posted everywhere, in towns and cities, at gates (tax stations) and ferries and passes. Copies found their way to the capital and one got into Tsʻao Tsʻao’s palace. That day he happened to be in bed with a bad headache. The servants took the paper to the sick man’s room. He read it and was frightened from the tips of his hair to the marrow of his very bones. He broke out into a cold perspiration and his headache vanished. He bounded out of bed and said to Tsʻao Hung, “Who wrote this?”
“They say it is Chʻên Lin’s pencil,” replied he.
Tsʻao laughed “They have the literary gift; they had better have the military too to back it up. This fellow may be a very elegant writer, but what if Yüan Shao’s fighting capacity falls short?”
He called his advisers together to consider the next move. Kʻung Jung heard of the summons and went to his master saying, “You should not fight with Yüan Shao; he is too strong. Make peace.”
Hsün Yü said, “He is despicable: do not make peace.”
Jung replied, “His land is wide and his people strong. He has many skilful strategists and he has loyal and able captains. You cannot say he is despicable.”
Yü laughed saying, “His army is a rabble. One captain, Tʻien Fêng, is bold but treacherous; another, Hsü Yu, is greedy and ignorant; Shên Pʻei is devoted but stupid; Fêng Chi is steady but useless. And these four of such different temperaments, mutually incompatible, will make for confusion rather than efficiency. Yen Liang and Wên Chʻou are worthless and can be disposed of in the first battle and the others are poor, rough stuff. What is the use even of their legions?”
Kʻung Jung was silent and Tsʻao smiled. “They are even as Hsün Wen-jo describes,” said he.
Then Tsʻao issued orders. Generals Liu Tai and Wang Chung were to lead an army of five legions, displaying the minister’s banners, and march against Hsüchou to attack Liu Pei.
This Liu Tai had been governor of Yenchou but had surrendered and entered Tsʻao Tsʻao’s service after the fall of the city. Tsʻao had given him a rank as supernumerary leader and now was disposed to make use of him.
Tsʻao Tsʻao himself took command of a large army of twenty legions for a simultaneous attack on Yüan Shao at Liyang.
A certain adviser said he thought the two captains sent against Liu Pei were unequal to their task.
“I know,” said Tsʻao. “They are not meant to fight Liu Pei; it is merely a feint. They have orders not to make any real attack till I have overcome Yüan Shao. Then Liu Pei will be next.”
Liu Tai and Wang Chung went their way and Tsʻao Tsʻao marched out his grand army, which came into touch with the enemy, then eighty li distant, at Liyang. Both sides made fortified camps and waited watching each other. This went on for two months.
There was dissension in Yüan Shao’s camp. Hsü Yu was at enmity with his colleague, Shên Pʻei, and the strategist Chu Shou resented the rejection of his plan. So they would not attack. Yüan Shao also could not make up his mind. Tired of this state of inaction Tsʻao Tsʻao then gave certain commanders definite points to hold and marched back to Hsütu.
The five legions sent against Liu Pei went into camp a hundred li from Hsüchou. The camp made an imposing display of the banners of the Prime Minister but no attacks followed. Their spies were very busy north of the river. On the defensive side, Liu Pei, as he was uncertain of the strength of the force against him, dared not move.
Suddenly orders came for the Tsʻao army to attack and then discord showed itself.
Liu Tai said, “The Minister orders an attack; you advance.”
Wang Chung replied, “You were named first.”
“I am the Commander in Chief; it is not my place to go first.”
“I will go with you in joint command,” said Chung.
“Let us cast lots and he upon whom the lot falls must go,” said Tai.
They drew lots and it fell to Wang Chung, who advanced toward Hsüchou with half the force.
When Yüan-tê heard of the threatened attack he called Chʻên Têng to consult.
Yüan-tê said, “There is dissension in Yüan Shao’s camp at Liyang so they do not advance. We do not know where Tsʻao Tsʻao is but his own banner is not displayed in his Liyang camp. Why then is it shown here?”
Chʻên Têng replied, “His tricks take a hundred forms. It must be that he regards the north as most important and has gone there to look after its defence. He dares not show his flag there and I feel sure it is only meant to mislead us. He is not here.”
Yüan-tê then asked whether one of his brothers would find out the truth and Chang Fei volunteered to go.
“I fear you are unsuited for this,” said Yüan-tê. “You are too impetuous.”
“If Tsʻao is there I will haul him over here,” said Fei.
“Let me go first and find out,” said Kuan Yü.
“If you go I shall feel more at ease,” said Yüan-tê.
So Kuan Yü set out with three companies to reconnoitre. It was then early winter and snow was falling from a gloomy sky. They marched regardless of the snow and came near Wang Chung’s camp with arms all ready to attack. Kuan Yü summoned Wang Chung to a parley.
“The Minister is here: why do you not surrender?” said Wang Chung.
“Beg him to come to the front for I would speak with him,” replied Kuan Yü.
“Is he likely to come out to see such as you?”
Kuan Yü angrily dashed forward and Wang Chung set his spear to meet him. Yü rode till he came close to his antagonist, then suddenly wheeled away. Wang Chung went after him and followed up a slope. Just as they passed the crest, Yü suddenly wheeled again, shouted and came on flourishing the mighty sword. Wang Chung could not withstand that and fled. But Kuan Yü, changing the huge sword to his left hand, with his right laid hold of his victim by the straps of his breastplate, lifted him out of the saddle and rode away to his own lines with the captive laid across the pommel of his saddle. Wang Chung’s men scattered.
The captive was sent to Hsüchou, where he was summoned into the presence of Liu Pei.
“Who are you? What office do you hold? How dare you falsely display the ensigns of the Minister Tsʻao Tsʻao?” said Liu Pei.
“What do you mean by falsely when I simply obeyed my orders?” said Wang. “My master wanted to produce the impression that he was present. Really he was not there.”
Liu Pei treated him kindly, giving him food and clothing; but put him in prison till his colleague could be captured. Kuan Yü said that, knowing his brother had peaceful intentions in his mind, he captured the man instead of slaying him.
“I was afraid of Chang Fei’s hasty and impulsive temper,” said Liu Pei. “He would have slain this man. So I could not send him. There is no advantage in killing persons of this sort and while alive they are often useful in amicable settlements.”
Here Chang Fei said, “You have got this Wang; now I will go and get the other man.”
“Be careful,” said his brother. “Liu Tai was once governor of Yenchou and he was one of the nobles who met at Tigertrap Pass to destroy Tung Cho. He is not to be despised.”
“I do not think him worth talking about so much. I will bring him in alive just as my brother did this other.”
“I fear that if his life be lost it may upset our designs,” said Liu Pei.
“If I kill him I will forfeit my own life,” said Fei.
So he was given three companies and went off quickly.
The capture of his colleague made Liu Tai careful. He strengthened his defences and kept behind them. He took no notice of the daily challenges and continual insults which began with Chang Fei’s arrival.
After some days Fei evolved a ruse. He issued orders to prepare to rush the enemy’s camp at night, but he himself spent the day drinking. Pretending to be very intoxicated he held a court martial and one soldier was severely flogged for a breach of discipline. The man was left bound in the midst of the camp, Fei saying, “Wait till I am ready to start to-night; you shall be sacrificed to the flag.” At the same time he gave secret orders to the custodians to let the man escape.
The man found his opportunity, crept out of camp and went over to the enemy, to whom he betrayed the plan of a night attack. As the man bore signs of savage punishment Liu Tai was the more disposed to credit his desertion and tale and made his arrangements, putting the greater part of his men in ambush outside his camp so that it was empty.
That night, having divided his men into three parties, Chang Fei went to attack the camp. A few men were ordered to advance directly, dash in and set fire going. Two larger bodies of men were to go round to the rear of the camp and attack when they saw the fire well started. At the third watch (midnight) Chang Fei, with his veterans, went to cut off Liu Tai’s road to the rear.
The thirty men told off to start a conflagration made their way into the camp and were successful. When the flames arose the ambushed men rushed out but only to find themselves attacked on both sides. This confused them and as they knew nothing of the number of their assailants they were panic-stricken and scattered.
Liu Tai, with a company of footmen got clear of the fight and fled, but he went straight toward Chang Fei. Escape was impossible and the two men rode up each to attack the other. Chang Fei captured his opponent and the men surrendered.
Chang Fei sent news of this success to his brothers.
Yüan-tê said, “Hitherto I-tê has been rather violent, but this time he has acted wisely and I am very pleased.”
They rode out to welcome their brother.
“You said I was too rough; how now?” said Fei to his brothers.
“If I had not put you on your mettle you would not have evolved this stratagem,” said Liu Pei.
Fei laughed. Then appeared the captive Liu Tai, in bonds. Yüan-tê at once dismounted and loosed the cords, saying, “My young brother was rather nasty, but you must pardon him.”
So he was freed. He was taken into the city, his colleague was released and both were cared for.
Yüan-tê said to them, “I could not help putting Chʻê Chou to death when he tried to kill me, but Tsʻao Tsʻao took it as disaffection and sent you two generals to punish me. I have received much kindness from him and certainly would not show ingratitude by killing you. I wish you to speak for me and explain when you get back.”
“We are deeply grateful that you spare our lives and we will certainly do so in gratitude for what our wives and children owe you.”
Next day the two leaders and their army were allowed to depart unscathed. But before they had got ten li from the boundary they heard a mighty shouting and there appeared Chang Fei barring the road.
“My brother made a mistake in letting you go: he did not understand. How could he give freedom to two rebels?”
This made the two men quake with fear, but as the fierce-eyed warrior with uplifted sword was bearing down upon them they heard another man galloping up and shouting, “Do not behave so disgracefully!”
The newcomer was Kuan Yü and his appearance relieved the unhappy men of all fear.
“Why do you stop them since our brother set them free?” cried he.
“If they are let go to-day they will surely come back,” cried Fei.
“Wait till they do, then you may kill them,” replied Kuan Yü.
The two leaders with one voice cried, “Even if the Minister slay our whole clan we will never come again. We pray you pardon us.”
Said Fei, “If Tsʻao Tsʻao himself had come I would have slain him. Not a breastplate should have gone back. But for this time I leave you your heads.”
Clapping their hands to their heads the two men scuttled off while the two brothers returned to the city.
“Tsʻao Tsʻao will certainly come,” they said.
Sun Chʻien said, “This is not a city that can hold out for long. We should send part of our forces to Hsiaopʻei and guard Pʻeichʻêng as a corner stone of our position.”
Yüan-tê agreed and told off his brothers to guard Pʻeichʻêng whither he also sent his two wives, the Ladies Kan and Mi. The former was a native of the place; the latter was Mi Chu’s sister.
Four captains were left to defend Hsüchou and Yüan-tê with Chang Fei went to Hsiaopʻei.
The two released leaders hastened home to Tsʻao Tsʻao and explained to him that Liu Pei was not disaffected. But their master was exceeding angry with them, crying “You shameful traitors, what use are you?”
He roared to the lictors to take them away to instant execution.
How can a dog or a pig expect To conquer in tiger strife? Minnows and shrimps that with dragons contend Already have done with life.
The fate of the two leaders will be told in the next chapter.