San Kuo/Volume 1/Chapter 40
CHAPTER XL.
The Lady Ts‘ai Discusses the Renunciation of Chingchou: Chuko Liang Burns Hsinyeh.
When Yüan-tê asked how his adviser hoped to repel Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, K‘ung-ming replied, “This is a small city and unfitted for our lengthy occupation. Liu Piao is ill and failing fast, so this is the time to take his district as a base where we may be safe against Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.”
“You speak well, Master, but Liu Piao has shown me great kindness and I could not bear to serve him an ill turn.”
“If you after do not take this opportunity you will regret it ever after,” said K‘ung-ming.
“I would rather perish than do what is wrong.”
“We will discuss it again,” replied K‘ung-ming. When Hsiahou Tun reached the capital he presented himself to his master in bonds and craved death. But his master loosed him and let him tell his tale. And he said, “I was the victim of Chuko Liang’s evil machinations; he attacked with fire.”
“As a soldier from your youth you should have remembered that fire was a likely weapon in narrow roads.' ”
“Li Tien and Yu Chin reminded me; I am sorry enough now.”
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao rewarded his two captains who had warned their leader.
“Liu Pei as strong as he is now certainly is a menace to our existence and he must be quickly destroyed,” said Hsiahou Tun.
“He is one of my anxieties,” replied Ts‘ao. “Sun Ch'üan is the other. The rest do not count. We must take this chance to sweep the south clean.”
Then orders were issued to prepare an army of fifty legions, in five divisions of ten legions each. Each had two leaders, except the fifth, which Ts‘ao Ts‘ao himself led. The van was commanded by Hsü Ch‘u. The seventh moon of the thirteenth year was fixed for the march.
The high officer, K‘ung Jung, offered a remonstrance. He said, “Liu Pei and Liu Piao are both of the Imperial House and should not be attacked without grave reasons. Sun Ch'üan in the six districts is terrible as a crouching tiger and, with the Great River as his defence, he is very secure. If, Sir Minister, you undertake this unjustifiable expedition, you will forfeit the respect of the world, I fear.”
“All three of them are disobedient ministers and rebels and how can I fail to punish them?” replied Ts‘ao.
He was angry, and bade the adviser go from his presence. Presently he gave formal orders that he would put to death any one who remonstrated on the subject of his expedition.
K‘ung Jung went forth from the palace sadly. Casting his eyes up to heaven, he cried, “Where is the chance of success when the perfectly inhumane attacks the perfectly humane? He must be defeated.”
One of the clients of the historian Ch‘i Lü, whom K‘ung Jung had always treated contemptuously and disdainfully, happened to hear this apostrophe and told his patron who carried the tale to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao. He also added to it that K‘ung habitually spoke disrespectfully of the Chief Minister and had been very friendly with Mi Hêng. In fact the insults that Mi Hêng had hurled at Ts‘ao Ts‘ao had been deliberately arranged and intrigued by K‘ung. K‘ung Jung and Mi Hêng seemed to admire each other hugely and Mi used to say, “Confucius is not dead” and the other used to reply “Yen Hui has risen again.”
Ch‘i Lü's tale angered Ts‘ao, who ordered the arrest of the historian and sent T‘ing Wei to carry it out.
Now K‘ung Jung had two sons, both young, who were sitting at home playing wei-ch‘i, when one of their servants ran in and said, “Your father has just been carried off for execution; why do you not run away?”
The youths replied, “When the nest is pulled down are the eggs left unbroken?”
Even at that moment the same officer came and carried off the whole household. The two youths were beheaded. The father’s corpse was exposed in the streets.
The Prefect of the Metropolis, Chih Hsi, wept over the corpse. This public exhibition of sympathy re-kindled Ts‘ao’s anger and he was going to punish it with death. However, this additional cruelty was prevented by the adviser Hsün Yü, who said, “You should not slay a righteous man who came to mourn over his friend’s corpse. He had often warned his friend, K‘ung Jung, against the danger his severe rectitude might lead him into.”
Chih Hsi took up the remains of father and sons and buried them.
K‘ung Jung, who dwelt on the north sea shore,
A noble reputation bore;
With him all guests warm welcome found,
And ceaselessly the wine went round.
For skill in letters he was famed,
In speech, he dukes and princes shamed,
Historians his merits tell,
Recorders say that he did well.
After wreaking his wrath on K‘ung Jung, Ts‘ao issued the order to march. Hsün Yü was left in command of the capital.
About this time the Prefect of Chingchou became seriously ill and he summoned Liu Pei to his chamber. He went accompanied by his two brothers and the adviser. Liu Piao said, “The disease has attacked my very vitals and my time is short. I confide my orphans to your guardianship. My son is unfit to succeed to my place, and I pray you, my brother, to administer the district after my death.”
Liu Pei wept, saying, “I will do my utmost to help my nephew; what else could I do, indeed?”
Even at this moment came the news of the march of Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s armies and Liu Pei, taking hasty leave of his kinsman, was forced to hurry to his station. The evil tidings aggravated the sick man’s condition and he began to make his last arrangements. In his testament he appointed Yüan-tê the guardian of his son Liu Chi, who was to succeed in the lordship.
This arrangement greatly angered his wife the Lady Ts‘ai. She closed the inner doors against all and confided to her own partizans, of whom her brother and Chang Yün were her confidants, the keeping of the outer gates.
The heir was at Chianghsia and he came to make filial enquiries as soon as his father’s condition became serious. But Ts‘ai Mao refused him admittance and said, “Your father sent you to guard Chianghsia. Such a very responsible post should by no means have been quitted without orders. Suppose it was attacked, what might not happen? If your father sees you he will be very angry and it will make him worse. That would be most undutiful and you should return to your command at once.”
Liu Chi stood out for some time, but admittance was denied him in spite of his tears. So he returned to his post. Meanwhile his father rapidly grew worse. He anxiously looked for his son, but he came not. Suddenly he uttered piercing shrieks and then passed away.
When the Yüans were lords of the north,
And Piao held the bank of the river,
It seemed, so strong were they both,
That they would endure for ever.
But the women folk troubled their states,
And, meddling, confusion made;
It was mournful indeed to see
How quickly the house decayed.
So the Prefect died. Then the widow and her partizans took counsel together and forged a testament conferring the lordship of Chingchou on the second son Liu Ts‘ung before they published the news of the death.
The wrongful heir was then fourteen years of age. He was no fool, so he assembled the officials and said, “My father has passed away and my elder brother is at Chianghsia. More than that, our uncle is at Hsinyeh. You have made me lord, but if my brother and uncle come here with an army to punish me for usurping the lordship, what explanation can I offer?”
At first no one replied. Then a secretary Li Kuei, rose and said, “You speak well. Now hasten to send letters of mourning to your brother and ask him to come and take his inheritance. Also call upon Yüan-tê to come and assist in the administration. Then shall we be safe against our enemies on both north and south. I consider this the most excellent plan.”
But Ts‘ai Mao replied harshly, “Who are you to speak thus wildly and oppose the testament of our late lord?”
Li began to abuse him, “You and your party have fabricated this testament, setting aside the rightful heir. Now the whole district is in the hands of the Ts‘ai family and if our dead lord knew your doings he would slay you.”
Ts‘ai Mao ordered the lictors to take him away to execution. He was hurried out, but his tongue ceased not.
So the younger son was placed in his father’s seat and the Ts‘ai clan shared among them the whole military authority of the district. The defence of Chingchou was confided to Têng I and Liu Hsien, while Lady Ts‘ai and her son took up their residence in Hsiangyang so as to be out of the reach of the rightful heir and his uncle. They interred the remains of the late Prefect on the east of Hsiangyang. No notice of the death was sent to Liu Chi, the son, or to his uncle.
Liu Ts‘ung arrived at Hsiangyang, but, before he had had time to recover from the fatigue of the journey, the startling news of the approach of a great army came in. He summoned K‘uai Yüeh and Ts‘ai Mao and others to ask counsel. One of the secretaries, Fu Sun, offered his advice, saying, “Not only are we threatened by a great army, but the elder son, who is the real heir, at Chianghsia, and his uncle at Hsinyeh, are to be reckoned with. These two have not been notified of the death, and they will resent that. We shall be in sad case if they also march against us. But if you will adopt my suggestion then our people will be as steady as Mount T‘ai and our young lord’s position and rank will be assured.”
“What is your plan?” asked the young lord.
“To offer the whole district to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, who will treat our young master most liberally.”
“What advice!” said Liu Ts‘ung angrily. “Am I to yield my heritage to another before I have even fairly succeeded to it?”
“The advice is good,” said K‘uai Yüeh. “Opportunism is a policy and possibilities need consideration. In the name of government, Ts‘ao is fighting against his neighbours. If our lord oppose him he will be termed contumacious. Beside, any misfortune on our borders before our young lord is well established will react upon the internal administration and our people will be panic-stricken at the mere news of the approach of a hostile army. How could we then offer any resistance?”
Liu Ts‘ung replied, “It is not that I disagree with you, but I should be a laughing-stock to the whole world were I to abandon my heritage without an effort.”
He was interrupted by a speaker who said, “If their advice is good, why not follow it?”
They turned toward the speaker who was a certain Wang Ts‘an of Shangyang, a lean, cadaverous individual much below the middle height of a man.
However, his talents did not conform to his physical appearance. When he was yet a youth he went to visit Ts‘ai Yung, then a vice-president, and although many guests of exalted rank were present, the host hastened to welcome the newcomer with the greatest deference. The others were astonished and asked why he was so respectful to a mere youth.
“He is a young man with the highest gifts; were I only like him———,” said Ts‘ai.
Wang was widely read and had a most retentive memory, better than any of his contemporaries. If he glanced at a roadside monument as he passed, he remembered every word of the inscription. If he saw people playing wei-ch‘i and the board was suddenly overthrown, he could replace every pip in its proper place. He was a good mathematician and his poems were exquisite. At seventeen he was appointed a court official but did not take up the appointment. When the disturbance in the empire grew serious he sought refuge in Chingchou, where he was received with great honour as guest of the Prefect. What he said was this, “General, how do you compare with Ts‘ao Ts‘ao?”
“Inferior,” replied Liu Ts‘ung.
Wang continued, “Ts‘ao has many soldiers and bold leaders; he is able and resourceful. He took Lü Pu and broke the power of Yüan Shao. He pursued Liu Pei into Lung and destroyed Wu Huan. The destruction of such firmly estab lished men shows his invincible character. Now he is on the way here and it will be very difficult to withstand him. The plan proposed is the best you can expect and you should not delay and hesitate till it is too late for aught but regret.”
“Worthy Sir, you indeed speak to the point; I must inform my mother,” said the young ruler.
But just then they saw his mother appear from behind a screen; she had been listening to all that was said.
“Why refer to me when three such gentlemen coincide in their opinions?” said she.
So he decided, and the letter of surrender was composed and entrusted to one Sung Chung to convey secretly to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao. Sung went straight to Wanch'êng and presented the letter. It was received with joy and the bearer well rewarded. The submission was accepted and Sung was told to tell his master to go out to meet Ts‘ao Ts‘ao in the open country and he was to be confirmed in perpetual tenure of his land.
Sung Chung left the city and took the homeward way. He had nearly reached the ferry when he fell in with a party of horse. On a closer look he saw the leader was Kuan Yü. The messenger tried to escape observation, but was presently captured and taken to the leader to be questioned. At first he prevaricated but on being closely questioned told the whole story. Then he was carried off to Hsinyeh and made to retell his story to Liu Pei who heard it with lamentations.
Chang Fei said. “This being so, I propose that we put this fellow to death, then cross the river, attack Hsiangyang and make an end of the Ts‘ai tribe and Liu Ts‘ung as well. Then we can attack Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.”
But Yüan-tê replied, “Just shut your mouth. I have something more to say.” Then turning to the prisoner he shouted, “When they did all this why did you not come to tell me? As things are now there is nothing to be gained by killing you. You may go.”
Sung Chung stammered his thanks, threw his arms over his head and ran away. Yüan-tê was very sad.
Presently a certain I Chi, a messenger from his nephew, was announced. Yüan-tê was very fond of this man and went down the steps to welcome him.
Then said I Chi, “The heir has heard that his father is dead, but his stepmother and her family are keeping back the news so that they may set up Liu Ts‘ung. He knows the news is true, as he sent a special messenger to find out. He thinks you, O Prince, may not know and has sent me to inform you and his letter begs you to lead all the men you can to Hsiangyang to help him assert his claims.”
Yüan-tê opened and read the letter. Then he said, “Yes; you know that the younger son has usurped the lordship, but you have not heard that he has already sent to offer the district to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao.”
This news shocked I Chi. “How know you this?” he asked.
Liu Pei told of the capture of Sung Chung. Chi said, “You can go to Hsiangyang as if to attend the mourning ceremonies and so draw Liu Ts‘ung into coming out of the city to welcome you. Then you can seize him, slay his party and take the district.”
“Your advice is good,” said K‘ung-ming, “and my lord ought to take it.”
Liu Pei wept, saying, “In his last interview my brother confided his son and heir to my care. If I lay hands upon another son and seize upon the inheritance, how shall I be able to look my brother in the face when I meet him by and bye beyond the grave?”
“If you do not act in this way now how will you repel Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, who has already reached Wanch'êng?” said K‘ung-ming.
“Our best plan is to take refuge in Fanch'êng,” replied Yüan-tê.
Just about this time the spies came to say that Ts‘ao’s army had reached Powang. So I Chi was sent off with instructions to take measures for the defence of Chianghsia, while Liu Pei and K‘ung-ming discussed plans for meeting the enemy.
K‘ung-ming bade his master take heart. As he had seen the last army destroyed by fire, so would he see this one also the victim of a ruse. He said, “This is no place to live in; we will move over to Fanch‘êng.”
Then notices were posted at all the gates that all the people, without any exception, were to follow their rulers at once to the new city to escape danger. Boats were prepared and the people sent away under the direction of Sun Ch‘ien. Mi Chu saw to the safe conveyance of the families of the officials.
Then the officers assembled for orders. Kuan Yü was to go to the White River. His men were to carry bags to fill with sand and earth to dam the river till the enemy should be heard, about the third watch next day. Then the waters were to be freed to drown one of the armies. He was then to march down river. Chang Fei was to go to Poling Ferry, where the current was slow. After the waters of the White River had been let loose on Ts‘ao’s men they would try to get over the river at the ferry. They were to be attacked. Chao Yün was to divide three companies into four parties and take one to the east gate. The other three were for the other gates. The roofs of the houses within the city walls were piled with sulphur nitre and other combustibles.
The intention was to set fire to the city when the army of the enemy had entered it for shelter. There would be a strong breeze next day in the evening which would fan the flames. When this wind began to blow, fire arrows were to be shot into the city from all sides. When the flames were high there was to be a great shouting outside to add to the general terror. The east gate was to be left free for escape, but the flying men were to be smitten after passing the gate. Fanch‘êng was the rallying centre after the battle.
Other orders were given to Mi Fang and Liu Fêng to take command of two companies, one half with red flags and the other half with black. They were to go to Magpie Tail Slope (Hsiwei P‘o), about thirty li from the city and camp. When they saw the Ts‘ao army coming along they were to move right and left to confuse them so that they should be afraid to advance further.
All the orders given, the various leaders went their way to take up their positions and await the burning of the city. K‘ung-ming and Liu Pei went away to an eminence whence they could watch what happened and where they would await the reports of victory.
Ts‘ao Hung and Ts‘ao Jên, with their ten legions, preceded by Hsü Ch‘u leading three companies of mailed men, marched toward Hsinyeh. They formed a mighty host. They reached Magpie Tail Slope about noon. Looking ahead, they saw what seemed a goodly army with many black and red flags. Hsü Ch‘u pressed forward. As he neared the flags moved from side to side and he hesitated. He began to think it unwise to advance and called a halt. Finally it was decided to go no farther then and the leader rode back to the main body to see Tsao Jên.
“Those men are only make-believe,” said Ts‘ao Jên. “Advance, there is no ambush. I will hasten up the supports.”
So Hsü Ch‘u rode to his own command again and advanced. When he reached the wood where he had seen the flags he saw no one at all. It was then late in the afternoon but he decided to move on. Then he heard from the hills the sound of musical instruments and, looking up, saw on the hill top two umbrellas surrounded by many banners. There sat Liu Pei and K‘ung-ming quietly drinking.
Angry at their coolness, he sought for a way up, but logs of wood and great stones were thrown down and he was driven back. Further, from the rear of the hills came a confused roar. He could find no way to attack and it was getting late.
Then Ts‘ao Jên arrived and ordered an attack on Hsinyeh that he might have a place to rest in. They marched to the walls and found the gates wide open. They entered and found a deserted city. No one was visible.
“This shows they are done,” said Ts‘ao Hung, “They have all run away, people and all. We may as well occupy the city and rest our men ready for the morrow.”
The soldiers were fatigued with marching and hungry as well, so they lost no time in scattering among the houses and setting about preparing food in the deserted kitchens. The leaders took up their quarters in the yamên.
After the first watch the wind began to blow. Soon after the gate guards reported that a fire had started.
“The careless men have let sparks fly about,” said the General.
He thought no more about it just then, but along came other reports of like nature and soon he realised that fires breaking out in all quarters were not due to accident. So he gave orders to evacuate the city. Soon the whole city seemed on fire and a red glow hung in the sky. The army was beset with fire fiercer than it had been at Powang.
Thrice wicked was Ts‘ao, but he was bold;
Though all in the capital he controlled,
Yet with this he was not content,
So southward his ravaging army went.
But, the autumn wind aiding, the Spirit of Fire
Wrought to his army destruction dire.
Officers and men dashing through the smoke and fire in utter confusion sought some way of escape, and hearing that the east gate was free they made for that quarter. Out they rushed pell-mell, many being trodden down and trampled to death. Those who got through took the road to the east.
But presently there was a shouting behind them and Chao Yün’s company came up and attacked. Then Ts‘ao’s men scattered, each fleeing for his life. No stand was made. A little later Mi Chu came. The fleeing general then had very few followers and those left him were scorched and burned and very wearied.
They directed their way to the Paiho, joyfully remembering that the river was shallow and fordable. And they went down into the stream and drank their fill, men shouting and horses neighing.
Meantime Kuan Yü, higher up its course, had dammed the river with sandbags so that its waters were collected in a lake. Toward evening he had seen the red glow of the burning city and began to look out for his signal. About the fourth watch he heard down stream the sounds of men and horse and at once ordered the breaking of the dam. The water rushed down in a torrent and overwhelmed the men just then in the bed of the river. Many were swept away and drowned. Those who escaped made their way to where the stream ran gently and got away.
Presently they reached the ferry at Powang. Here, where they thought there would be safety, they found the road barred.
“You Ts‘ao brigands!” shouted Chang Fei. “Come and receive your fate!”
Within the city the red flame leaps out:
On the river bank black anger is met.
What happened will appear in later chapters.