Romance of the three kin.., p.35
Romance of the Three Kingdoms II, page 35
He then led the Imperial Cuards out to support his three armies. But the scouts soon brought news justifying the opinion of his advisers. A force had been sent to oppose each of his three armies. Liu Yeh pointed this out and again said that no success could be expected. Still the king was obstinate, and marched.
The Wu leader, Chu Huan, who had been sent against Ts’ao Jen at Juhsu, was a young man of twenty-seven. He was bold and resourceful, and Sun Ch’uan held him in great regard. Hearing that Ts’ao Jen was going to attack Tzuchi, Chu led the bulk of his men to befend it, leaving only half a legion in Juhsu. Then he heard that the van of the enemy, under Ch’ang Tiao, had made a dash for Juhsu, so he hastened back and found the small garrison a prey to fear. Drawing his sword, he made a speech, “Success depends upon the leader rather than on the number of men. The ‘Art of War’ says that the value of soldiers who come from afar is doubled; that of those who inhabit a place is halved, yet always those who are in possession overcome those who come from afar. Now the enemy is weary from a long march and I and you, my men, can hold this place together. We have a great river to defend us on the south, and we are backed by the mountains on the north. Success should be ours easily, and we are as hosts at home awaiting the arrival of our weary visitors. This will give us victory in every fight. Even if the great Ts’ao P’ei come, we need feel no anxiety. How much less care we for Ts’ao Jen and his men?”
Then he issued orders to furl all the banners and to silence all the drums as if the city was empty of defenders.
In time, Ch’ang Tiao and his veterans of the van came to the city. Not a man was visible, and he hastened forward with all speed. But as he neared the city, suddenly a bomb went off. Immediately up rose a forest of flags, and out dashed Chu Huan, with his sword drawn. And he made for Ch’ang Tiao. In the third encounter he cut down his enemy, and his men, rushing to the attack, thoroughly routed the invaders, slaying innumerable men. Beside scoring a complete victory, Chu Huan took much spoil of flags and weapons and horses. Ts’ao Jen himself, coming up later, was attacked by the garrison of Tzuchi and also routed. He fled home to his master with the news of defeat and destruction.
And before the king could decide what course to take in regard to this loss the news came of the defeat of his other two armies.
So all three had failed and were lost, and P’ei sighed and said sadly, “This has came from my wilfulness and neglect of advice.”
The summer of that year was very unhealthy, and a pestilence swept away the soldiers in huge numbers. So they were marched home to Loyang. The two countries were at enmity though they were not fighting.
Meanwhile the First Ruler was failing. He remained in his Palace of Eternal Peace and presently was confined to his couch. Gradually he became worse, and in the fourth moon of the third year his condition became serious. He himself felt the end was near, and he was depressed and wept for his two lost brothers till the sight of his eyes suffered. He was morose and ill-tempered: he could not bear any of his court near him, drove away his servants and lay upon his couch sad and solitary.
One evening as thus he lay, a sudden gust of wind came into the chamber, almost extinguishing the candles. As they burned bright again he saw two men standing in the shade behind them.
“I told you I was worried,” said the king, “and bade you leave me; why have you come back? Go!”
But they remained and did not go. Wherefore the king rose and went over to look at them. As he drew near he saw one was Yun-ch’ang; the other I-te.
“Are you still alive, then, brothers?” said he.
“We are not men; we are shades,” said Kuan Yu. “The Supreme One has conferred spirithood upon us in consideration of our faithfulness throughout life, and ere long, brother, we three shall be together again.”
The king clutched at the figures and burst into tears; then he awoke. The two figures were no longer there. He called in his people and asked the hour: they told him the third watch.
“I am not much longer for this world,” said he with a sigh.
Messengers were sent to the capital to summon the Prime Minister and certain other high officers of state to receive the king’s last instructions. They came, K’ungming bringing the two younger sons. The eldest, the heir-apparent, was left in charge of the capital.
K’ungming saw at once that his master was very ill. He bowed to the ground at the foot of the “dragon” couch. The dying king bade him come near and sit beside him, and he patted his faithful minister on the back, saying, “The attainment of emperorship was your work. Little thought you that I should prove so stupid as not to follow your advice and so bring about the late disasters. But I am deeply sorry, and now I shall not live long. My heir is a degenerate, but I must leave him to do the best he can with the great inheritance.”
And the tears flowed in streams.
“I trust Your Majesty will fulfil the hopes of the people by a speedy recovery,” said K’ungming, also in tears.
Turning his head, the king saw Ma Liang’s brother at the bedside. He bade him retire. When he had left the chamber, the king said, “Do you think Ma Su is clever?”
“He is one of the ablest men in the world,” said K’ungming.
“I do not think so. I think his words exceed his deeds. Do not make much use of him. Watch him carefully.”
Having said this, he bade them summon the high officers of state to the chamber. Taking paper and pen the First Ruler wrote his testament. He handed it to the Prime Minister with a sigh and said, “I am no great scholar, and I only know the rough outlines of what should be known. But the Holy One has said that a bird’s song is sad when death is near and a dying man’s words are good. I was waiting that we might aid each other in the destruction of Ts’ao and the restoration of the Hans, but ere the work is complete I am called away, and this last command of mine I confide to you as Prime Minister to be handed to my son and heir, Chan. My words are to be taken seriously. I trust that you will instruct and guide my son.”
K’ungming and all those present wept and prostrated themselves, saying, “We pray Your Majesty to repose yourself. We will do our utmost whereby to prove our gratitude for the kindness we have received.”
At the king’s command the attendants raised K’ungming from the earth. With one hand the dying man brushed away the falling tears, while with the other he grasped K’ungming’s hand and said, ‘The end is near; I have something more to say as to a friend.”
“What holy command has Your Majesty to give?”
“You are many times more clever than Ts’ao P’ei, and you must safeguard the kingdom and complete the great work. If my son can be helped, help him. But if he prove a fool then take the throne yourself.”
Such a speech almost startled K’ungming out of his senses. A cold sweat broke out all over his body, and his limbs threatened to cease to support him. He fell on his knees, saying, “I could never do otherwise than wear myself to the bone in the service of your son, whom I will serve till death.”
He knocked his head upon the ground. The dying man called K’ungming closer, and at the same time making his two sons come near, he said to them, “My sons, remember your father’s words. After my death you are to treat the Prime Minister as you would your father and be not remiss, for thereby you will fulfil your father’s hopes.”
He made the two princes pay to K’ungming the obeisance due to a father.
Said K’ungming, “Were I destroyed and ground into the earth, I should be unable to repay the kindness I have experienced.”
Turning to the assembled officers, the First Ruler said, “As you have seen, I have confided my orphan son to the care of the Prime Minister and bidden my sons treat him as a father. You too, Sirs, are to treat him with deference. This is my dying request and charge to you.”
Turning to Chao Yun, he said, “I and you have gone together through many dangers and difficulties. Now comes the parting of our ways. You will not forget our old friendship, and you must see to it that my sons follow my precepts.”
“I shall never dare to give other than my best,” said Chao Yun. “The fidelity of the dog and horse is mine to give and shall be theirs.”
Then he turned to the others, “Noble Sirs, I am unable to speak to you one by one and lay a charge upon each individual; but I say to you, Maintain your self-respect.”
These were his last words. He was sixty-three, and he died on the twenty-fourth day of the fourth month (223 A.D.).
A poem was written by Tu Fu on his death:—
The king set out to destroy the land that lay through the gorges,
Failed he and breathed his last in the palace “Eternal Tranquillity,”
The palace fair of his thoughts lay not this side the highlands.
Beautiful chambers are vainly sought in his rural temple,
Now are the pines near his shrine nesting places for herons,
Through the courts aged peasants saunter, enjoying their leisure,
Nearby often is found a shrine to this strategist famous,
Prince and minister’s needs are now but offerings in season.
Thus died the First Ruler. All present lifted up their voices and wept.
The Prime Minister led the procession that escorted the coffin to the capital, and the heir, Liu Ch’an, came to the outskirts of the city, as a dutiful son should, to receive the remains with due respect. The coffin was laid in the Great Hall of the palace, wherein they lamented and performed the ceremonies appointed. At the end of these the testament was opened and read.
“I first fell ill from a simple ailment. Other disorders followed, and it became evident that I should not recover. They say that death at fifty cannot be called premature, and as I have passed three score I may not resent the call. But when I think of you and your brothers I regret. Now I say to you, strive and strive again. Do no evil because it is a small evil; do not leave undone a small good because it is a small good. Only with wisdom and virtue men can be won. But your father’s virtue was but slender and unequal to the strain.
“After my death you are to conduct the affairs of the state with the Prime Minister. You are to treat him as a father and serve him without remissness. You and your brothers are to seek instruction. This is my final and simple command.”
When this had been read, K’ungming said, “The state cannot go a single day without a prince, wherefore I beg you to install the heir as successor to the great line of the Hans.”
Thereupon the ceremony was performed, and the new Emperor took his place. The style of the reign was changed to Chien-Hsing. Chuko Liang became “Marquis of Wuhsiang and Governor of Ichou.”
Then they buried the late king at Huiling with the posthumous style of Chao-Lieh Huang-ti.
The Empress, of the Wu family, was formally created Empress Dowager. The late consort Kan became Chao-Lieh Empress, and the Lady Mi was granted similar, also posthumous, rank. There were promotions in rank and rewards for all, and a general amnesty was proclaimed.
Before long, knowledge of these things came to the army of Wei, and a report was sent to the capital and made known to the Prince of Wei. Ts’ao P’ei felt relieved and was glad of the death of his rival, and his thoughts at once turned toward an attack during the critical moment of a change of ruler.
But Chia Hsu dissuaded him. “Liu Pei is gone, but surely he has confided the care of the state to Chuko Liang, who is indebted to him so deeply. He will exhaust every effort to support his young lord. You may not hastily attack.”
As he tendered this remonstrance, a man suddenly stepped out from the serried ranks of courtiers and said fiercely, “If you neglect this moment can you expect a more favourable opportunity?”
All eyes turned to the speaker; it was Ssuma I.
The interruption greatly pleased P’ei, who at once asked how it was to be done. He propounded his plan in the following speech:—
“It would be very difficult to obtain success with our own resources. Hence we must use five armies and attack all round at the same time, so as to embarrass Chuko Liang.”
“Where are the five armies to come from?” said Ts’ao P’ei.
Ssuma went on, “The first is to be got from Liaotung, from the Hsian-pi country (Inner Mongolia). You must write to Prince K’opineng and send him presents of gold and silks so that he may send ten legions of the Ch’iang (Tanguts) from Liaohsi to attack Hsip’ing Pass. Secondly, the present prince of the Man Tribes, Menghuo, must be persuaded to attack the south of Hsich’uan, the districts of Ichou., Jungch’ang, Tsang-ko and Yuehchien. Thirdly, you must send an ambassador to Wu with fair promises of an increase of territory, and so induce Sun Ch’uan to lead ten legions to the attack, making Fouch’eng his objective. The fourth army can be got from Meng Ta in Shangyung, who can attack HanChung. Lastly, our own force may be placed under Ts’ao Chen, who will attack by way of Yangping Pass. With fifty legions making a simultaneous attack along five different directions, it would be hard for Chuko Liang to hold his own even if he had the talent of Lu Wang (T’ai Kung) himself.”
The scheme delighted Ts’ao P’ei, who at once cast about for four glib-tongued messengers. He also issued a commission to Ts’ao Chen as Commander-in-chief.
At this time Chang Liao and most others of the veterans who had served Ts’ao Ts’ao were enjoying their leisure in various parts of the country, and as nobles were keeping watch and ward at certain passes and fords and such places. Their appointments were more or less sinecures. They were not summoned for this expedition to the west.
Although all the details of what came to pass in Shu after the accession of the Second King Liu Ch’an need not be told, yet it may be noted that many of those who had served his father died after the decease of their master. The work of the administration of the kingdom, the choice of officials, law-making, taxation, decision of legal cases, was all done by the Prime Minister.
As the new king had no consort, the courtiers, headed by K’ungming, proposed a daughter of the late Chang Fei as young and prudent, and she was married to the Emperor and so became Empress.
It was in the autumn of the year of his accession that the Later Ruler heard of the plans and intentions of Wei against his state. The persons who told him gave him full details of the five armies and said they had previously told the Prime Minister.
“But his conduct puzzles us,” said the informers. “We do not know why he does not take some action instead of remaining shut up in his palace all the time.”
The Later Ruler became really alarmed, and he sent one of his personal attendants to call the Prime Minister to court. The servant was gone a long time, and then returned to say that the servants had told him the Prime Minister was ill and not to be seen.
The young Emperor’s distress increased, and he sent two high officers to K’ungming, saying they were to see him even if he was on his couch and tell him the dreadful news of invasion. They went; but they got no farther than the gate. The keepers of the gate refused them admission. Then they confided their message in brief to the wardens of the gate, who went inside with it. After keeping them waiting a long time the wardens returned to say that the Prime Minister was rather better and would be at court in the morning.
The two messengers sighed deeply as they wended their way to the Emperor’s palace.
Next morning a great crowd of officers assembled at the gate of the Prime Minister’s residence to wait for him to appear. But he did not come out. It began to grow late, and many of them were tired of waiting, when at last Tu Ch’iung, one of the two who had been sent to tell K’ungming why his presence was desired at council, went again to the Emperor and suggested that His Majesty should go in person and try to get K’ungming to say what should be done.
The Emperor then returned to his palace and told his Consort his trouble. She was also alarmed.
“What can he mean?” said she. “This does not look like acting in the spirit of the charge laid upon him by the late Emperor. Let me go myself.”
“Oh no,” said Tung Yun. “Your Majesty most not go. We think all is well, and the Prime Minister certainly understands and will do something. Beside, you must let His Majesty go first, and if the Prime Minister still shows remissness then Your Majesty can summon him to the Temple of the Dynasty and ask him.”
So it was left at that. And the next day the Emperor rode in his chariot to the gate of his minister. When the doorkeepers saw the imperial chariot appear they fell upon their faces to welcome the Emperor.
“Where is the Prime Minister?” asked he.
“We do not know. But we have orders not to let in the crowd of officers.”
The Emperor then descended and went on foot right in to the third gate. Then he saw K’ungming leaning on a staff beside a fishpond looking at the fish. He approached, and stood behind him for a long time. Presently the king said slowly and with dignity, “Is the Prime Minister really enjoying himself?”
K’ungming started and looked round. When he saw who the speaker was he suddenly dropped his staff and prostrated himself.
“I ought to be put to death ten thousand times,” said he.
But the Emperor put forth his hand and helped him to rise, saying, “Ts’ao P’ei threatens immediate invasion from five points; why will you not come forth and attend to business?”
K’ungming laughed. He conducted the Emperor into an inner room, and, when he was seated, K’ungming addressed his king, saying, “Could it be possible that I was ignorant of these five armies? I was not looking at the fish; I was thinking.”
“But, this being so, what shall we do?”
“I have already turned back that K’opineng, of the Tanguts, and Menghuo of the Man and the rebel leader Meng Ta and the army from Wei. I have also thought out a plan to circumvent the army from Wu, but I need a special sort of man to carry it out. I want an envoy, an able talker, one capable of persuading other people. It was because I have not found such a man yet that I was so deeply in thought. But Your Majesty may set your mind at rest and not be anxious.”
