We tell now how Tripitaka and his disciples took their leave of the village household and pressed westward along the road. Before they had covered thirty or forty lǐ they had already reached the border of the Kingdom of Western Liang.
The Tang Monk pointed from horseback. “Wukong, the walls and moat lie close ahead, and there is a clamour of voices in the marketplace. This must be the Women's Country of Western Liang. You must all be careful. Keep to propriety and hold yourselves in check; on no account let your feelings run loose and throw the tenets of our Gate of Law into disorder.”
The three heard him and reverently obeyed the stern command — and his words were not yet done when they came to the mouth of the street in the eastern suburb.
The people there wore long skirts and short jackets, their faces powdered and their hair oiled; old or young, without exception they were women. They were buying and selling along both sides of the street, and when of a sudden they saw the four pilgrims coming they clapped their hands and laughed aloud together, composing their faces into smiles and calling out, “The seed of men has come! The seed of men has come!”
Tripitaka, thrown into confusion, reined in his horse and could scarcely go forward. In a moment the street was packed solid, and nothing could be heard but laughter and talk.
Eight Rules bawled out wildly, “I'm a gelded hog! I'm a gelded hog!”
“Idiot,” said Pilgrim, “stop talking nonsense. Just put out your old face and that will do.”
Eight Rules did indeed give his head two good shakes, stood up his pair of palm-leaf ears, worked his dangling lotus-pod lips, and let out a roar — at which those women were so terrified that they went stumbling and scrambling away.
There is a poem to bear witness. The poem says:
The holy monk, come west to worship Buddha, reached Western Liang,
a realm of unmixed yin, a world where yang runs thin.
Farmer, scholar, artisan, merchant — every one of them women;
fisher, woodsman, ploughman, herdsman — all in rouge and powder.
Fair maids throng the road and cry out for the seed of men;
young wives crowd the street to receive the powdered gallant.
Had Wuneng not put on that hideous face of his,
the siege of mist and flowers would have been past all bearing!
At this the crowd was all afraid and dared not press forward. Every one of them wrung her hands and shrank at the waist, shook her head and bit her finger, and in fear and trembling they ranged themselves in a press along the sides of the street and below the road, all of them staring at the Tang Monk. The Great Sage Sun for his part pulled a hideous face to open the way; Sha Monk too got up a snarling tiger's look to hold the line; and Eight Rules took the horse, thrust out his snout, and worked his ears.
The party went on, and saw further that in the marketplace the houses stood trim and even and the shopfronts rose handsome and high. Just as anywhere else there were sellers of salt and sellers of rice, wine-shops and tea-houses; drum-towers and terraces opened upon the traffic in goods, and flag-pavilions and post-houses hung out their blinds and lattices.
As master and disciples turned the corners and rounded the bends, they suddenly saw a woman official standing in attendance at the foot of the street, who called out in a loud voice, “Envoys come from afar may not enter the city gate unbidden. Pray put up at the hostel and enter your names upon the register; wait while this humble officer carries the names before the throne, and when your passport has been examined you shall be let through.”
Hearing this, Tripitaka dismounted and looked. Above the office there hung a tablet, and upon it were written three characters: Posthouse of Welcomed Yang.
“Wukong,” said the elder, “what the people at the village cottage told us was true. There is indeed a Posthouse of Welcomed Yang.”
Sha Monk laughed. “Second brother, why not go over to the Fetus-Reflecting Spring and take a look at yourself, and see whether there is a double shadow?”
“Don't make sport of me,” said Eight Rules. “Since I drank that cupful of water from the Spring that Dissolves the Fetus the thing has been brought down already. What is there left to look at?”
Tripitaka turned his head and charged him: “Wuneng — guard your tongue. Guard your tongue.” Then he went forward and made his courtesies to the woman official.
The woman official led the way and invited them all into the posthouse, where they were seated in the main hall, and she at once called for tea to be brought. They saw further that the attendants were all of the sort that comb their hair in three braids and wear their garments in two pieces. Look at them — even the ones bringing the tea were laughing.
In a little while the tea was done. The woman official bowed slightly and asked, “Whence come the envoys?”
“We are envoys commissioned by the Tang emperor of the Land of the East,” said Pilgrim, “bound west to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures. My master is none other than the Tang emperor's own brother, styled Tripitaka Tang. I am his eldest disciple, Sun Wukong, and these two are my younger fellow-disciples, Zhu Wuneng and Sha Wujing. Our party, counting the horse, is five mouths in all. We carry a passport upon our persons, and beg that it may be inspected and we let through.”
When the woman official had taken up her brush and finished writing, she came down and knocked her head upon the ground. “Forgive my offence, Your Reverences. This humble officer is warden of the Posthouse of Welcomed Yang. Truly I did not know that Your Reverences came from a superior realm; had I known, I should have gone far out to meet you.”
Her obeisance done, she rose and at once ordered the steward to lay out food and drink. “Sit at your ease a while, sirs, while this humble officer goes into the city to lay the matter before our sovereign, has the passport countersigned and your travelling provisions issued, and sends Your Reverences on westward.” Tripitaka sat down well pleased, and of him we say no more.
We tell now how the warden set her cap and robes in order and went straight into the city to the front of the Five-Phoenix Tower, where she said to the officer of the Yellow Gate, “I am warden of the Posthouse of Welcomed Yang, and have business for the throne.” The Yellow Gate reported it at once, and an edict came down summoning her to the hall, where the question was put: “What business does the warden come to report?”
“Your humble servant received at the posthouse the Tang emperor's own brother from the Land of the East, Tripitaka Tang,” said the warden, “who has three disciples named Sun Wukong, Zhu Wuneng and Sha Wujing — five mouths counting the horse — and who wishes to go west to worship Buddha and fetch the scriptures. I come expressly to lay it before Your Majesty: may they be permitted to have their passport countersigned and be let through?”
When the queen heard the report her heart was filled with delight, and she said to the assembled civil and military officers, “Last night We dreamed that a golden screen put forth brilliant colours and a jade mirror opened out its light. This was the auspicious omen of today.”
The women officials pressed forward and bowed at the vermilion steps. “Your Majesty, how is it seen to be the auspicious omen of today?”
“The man from the Land of the East is the Tang dynasty's imperial brother,” said the queen. “In this realm of ours, from the time chaos was first cleft open, through generation upon generation of sovereigns, never yet has a man been seen to come here. By good fortune the Tang emperor's brother has now come down to us; it must be that Heaven has bestowed him. With the wealth of a whole kingdom We would take the imperial brother to be our king, and We would be his queen; We would join with him as yin joins with yang, bear sons and grandsons, and hand down the imperial estate for ever. Is that not the auspicious omen of today?”
The women officials bowed and danced in acclamation, and there was not one of them who was not delighted.
The warden further submitted, “Your Majesty's reasoning is a good thing that will be handed down for ten thousand generations. Only the imperial brother's three disciples are fierce and evil to look on, and have no proper appearance.”
“How did the imperial brother appear to you, minister?” said the queen. “And how fierce and ugly are his disciples?”
“The imperial brother's countenance is noble and his bearing handsome,” said the warden. “He is truly a son of the celestial dynasty of a superior realm, a figure out of the Middle Kingdom in the Southern Continent. Those three disciples, however, are hideous of form, and their features are like goblins.”
“If that is so,” said the queen, “issue his disciples their provisions, countersign the passport, and send them off toward the Western Heaven; keep only the imperial brother here. What objection can there be?”
The officials bowed and submitted, “Your Majesty's words are entirely apt; we your servants receive and obey them. Only in the matter of a match, it cannot be done without a go-between. From of old it has been said: A marriage bond is joined upon the token of the red leaf; the Old Man of the Moon binds husband and wife with a scarlet cord.”
“It shall be as my ministers submit,” said the queen. “Let the Grand Preceptor in attendance act as go-between and the warden of the Posthouse of Welcomed Yang preside over the match; let them go first to the posthouse and ask the imperial brother for his hand. When he has consented, We shall set forth the imperial equipage and go out of the city to receive him.”
The Grand Preceptor and the warden received the edict and left the court.
We tell now how Tripitaka and his disciples were in the posthouse hall enjoying their vegetarian meal, when someone came in from outside to report: “The Grand Preceptor in attendance and our own officer, the old dame, have come.”
“What can the Grand Preceptor mean by coming?” said Tripitaka.
“I dare say the queen is inviting us,” said Eight Rules.
“If it is not an invitation,” said Pilgrim, “then it is a marriage proposal.”
“Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “suppose they will not let us go and force the match upon me — what then is to be done?”
“Master, only consent to her,” said Pilgrim. “Old Monkey has his own way of dealing with it.”
Before he had finished speaking, the two women officials had already arrived, and they bowed low before the elder. He returned each courtesy in turn and said, “This poor monk is one who has left the household life. What virtue or ability has he, that he should presume to trouble Your Excellencies to bow to him?”
The Grand Preceptor, seeing how noble and lofty the elder's features were, rejoiced privately in her heart. Our realm has real good fortune indeed, she thought. This man could well serve as husband to our sovereign.
The two officials, their obeisance done, rose and stood in attendance to left and right. “Venerable imperial brother, a thousand thousand felicitations to you.”
“I am one who has left the household life,” said Tripitaka. “Whence should any felicity come to me?”
The Grand Preceptor bowed from the waist. “This place is the Women's Country of Western Liang, and in this realm there has never from the first been a single man. By good fortune the venerable imperial brother has now come down to us. Your servant, bearing our sovereign's command, comes expressly to sue for a match.”
“Mercy on us, mercy on us!” said Tripitaka. “This poor monk came alone to your honoured land; no children accompany him, and he has only three stubborn disciples. I do not know which of them it is that Your Excellency sues for.”
“This humble officer has just been to court to make report,” said the warden, “and our sovereign was greatly delighted and said that last night she had a lucky dream — she dreamed that a golden screen put forth brilliant colours and a jade mirror opened out its light. The imperial brother is a man of the Middle Flowery Land, a superior realm. Our sovereign would, with the wealth of a whole kingdom, take the venerable imperial brother into her house as husband, that he might sit facing south and style himself the Solitary One, while she would be his empress-consort. She has issued a command setting the Grand Preceptor to act as go-between and this humble officer to preside over the match, and so we have come expressly to sue for this marriage.”
Tripitaka heard this and bowed his head without a word.
“When a great man meets his hour he must not let it slip,” said the Grand Preceptor. “Such a match as this may be found here and there in the world, but to be entrusted with the wealth of a kingdom is a rare thing on this earth indeed. Let the imperial brother consent quickly, so that we may go back and make our report.”
The elder only grew the more dumb and stupefied.
Eight Rules, standing by, thrust out his pestle of a snout and called, “Grand Preceptor, go back and report to your sovereign: my master is an arhat who has long cultivated the Way and attained it. He will certainly not covet the wealth of your entrusted kingdom, nor yet that kingdom-toppling beauty of hers. Countersign the passport quickly and send him off westward; keep me here as the resident husband instead. How would that be?”
The Grand Preceptor, hearing this, was so terrified that her gall shook and her heart quailed, and she dared not answer.
“You may indeed have a man's body,” said the warden, “but your form and features are so ugly that they do not suit our sovereign's taste.”
Eight Rules laughed. “How dense you are! The common saying goes: Coarse willow makes the winnowing-fan and fine willow the measure — who in this world ever saw a man that was ugly?”
“Idiot,” said Pilgrim, “no more of your nonsense. Leave it to Master's honoured judgment — if it may go forward, let it go forward; if it should stop, let it stop. Do not go wasting the go-betweens' time.”
“Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “what would you have me say, then?”
“By Old Monkey's reckoning,” said Pilgrim, “it would do very well for you to stay here. From of old they say: a marriage a thousand lǐ apart is drawn together by a thread. Where else would you find a place so fitting as this?”
“Disciple,” said Tripitaka, “if we covet wealth and rank here, who is to go to the Western Heaven and fetch the scriptures? Would that not be to fail the sovereign of our Great Tang, and disappoint his hope?”
“Venerable imperial brother,” said the Grand Preceptor, “your humble servant dares not conceal anything. Our sovereign's command was only that we should sue for the imperial brother in marriage, and that your three disciples should attend the betrothal banquet, be issued their travelling provisions, have the passport countersigned, and go on west to fetch the scriptures.”
“What the Grand Preceptor says is reasonable,” said Pilgrim. “We need make no difficulty about it. We are willing to leave our master behind to be your sovereign's husband. Change the passport quickly and send us off westward. When we come back with the scriptures we can call here to pay our respects to father and mother, ask for travelling money, and return to the Great Tang.”
The Grand Preceptor and the warden made their courtesies to Pilgrim. “Many thanks to the venerable teacher for the kindness of bringing this to pass.”
“Grand Preceptor,” said Eight Rules, “do not go setting out dishes with your mouth alone. Since we have given our consent, let your sovereign lay on a banquet first and give us a cup of the consenting wine. How would that be?”
“There shall be, there shall be, there shall be,” said the Grand Preceptor. “The banquet shall be set out at once.” And she and the warden, in high delight, went back to report to the sovereign lady, and of them we say no more.
We tell now how the Tang elder seized Pilgrim in one grip and scolded him. “You monkey-head, you will be the death of me! How could you say such a thing — that I should take a wife here while you go west to worship Buddha? I would sooner die than do such a thing.”
“Set your mind at rest, Master,” said Pilgrim. “Does Old Monkey not know your disposition? But having come to this place and met these people, we cannot but meet their plan with a plan of our own.”
“What do you mean, meet their plan with a plan?” said Tripitaka.
“If you dig in your heels and refuse her,” said Pilgrim, “she will not countersign the passport, and will not let us go on our way. And should her intent turn cruel and her heart malicious, she may shout an order to a crowd of them to cut off your flesh and make it up into scent-bags of some sort — and what good end should we come to then? We should certainly have to put out the powers we use for subduing demons and sweeping away monsters. You know how heavy our hands and feet are and how fierce our weapons; let us but stir a hand, and every soul in this kingdom would be beaten dead. They may block our way, but they are not monsters or goblins — they are the human bodies of a whole nation; and you have always been a man given to kindness and compassion, who has not harmed a single living thing along the road. If we were to beat dead a countless number of ordinary people, how could your heart bear it? It would be a great unkindness indeed.”
Tripitaka heard him out. “Wukong, that is the best of arguments. But I fear the sovereign lady will take me within and require of me the rites of husband and wife. How could I consent to lose my primal yang and ruin the virtue proper to the household of the Buddha? To let my true essence run out, and so fall from the human body my own teaching gave me?”
“If today you grant the match,” said Pilgrim, “she will certainly set forth her equipage with imperial ceremony and come out of the city to receive you. Do not decline any further. Take your seat in her phoenix carriage and dragon chariot, mount the hall of treasure, and sit down facing south. Ask the queen to bring out the imperial seal, summon us brothers into court, set the seal upon the passport, and then have the queen write her own signature and flourish; when it is signed, let it be handed over to us. On the other side, have a banquet laid out; let it serve at once as your wedding feast with the queen and as a send-off for us.
“When the banquet is over, call for the equipage again, saying only that you are seeing the three of us out of the city and will come back to be joined with the queen. Cajole ruler and ministers alike into good humour, so that they have no thought of hindering us and conceive no malicious design. Then, when you have seen us outside the walls, get down from the dragon chariot and phoenix carriage; have Sha Monk attend at your side and help you mount the white horse; and Old Monkey will work a body-fixing spell, so that ruler, ministers and all of them can move no more, and we shall go straight on west along the high road. When we have travelled a day and a night, I will recite a charm, undo the spell, and let ruler and ministers come to themselves and go back to the city. In the first place their lives are not harmed; in the second your primal spirit takes no injury. This is what is called the stratagem of a false match to escape the net. Is it not the excellence of one stroke that answers two ends?”
Tripitaka heard this and was like a drunken man just come to himself, like a sleeper just waking out of a dream; his gladness drove out his care, and thanking Pilgrim past all measure he said, “I am deeply obliged to my worthy disciple's high discernment.” The four were of one mind and one purpose, and were still deliberating together; of which we say no more.
We tell now how the Grand Preceptor and the warden, without waiting to be summoned, went straight in at the court gate to the foot of the white jade steps and reported: “Your Majesty's fine dream was most true. The joy of fish and water is as good as accomplished.”
Hearing the report, the queen rolled up the pearl blind, came down from the dragon couch, parted her cherry lips and showed her silver teeth, and asked in a smiling, tender voice, “My worthy ministers have seen the imperial brother — what did he say?”
“When your servants reached the posthouse and had made our obeisance to the imperial brother,” said the Grand Preceptor, “we set out the matter of the suit in full. The imperial brother still had words of demurral, but happily his eldest disciple consented with a good grace, and is willing to leave his master behind to be Your Majesty's husband, to face south and be styled emperor. He asks only that the passport be countersigned first and the three of them sent off westward; and that when they have fetched the scriptures and returned, they may come here to acknowledge their father and mother, ask for travelling money, and go back to the Great Tang.”
The queen laughed. “And had the imperial brother anything further to say?”
“The imperial brother said nothing, and is willing to be matched with Your Majesty,” the Grand Preceptor reported. “Only that second disciple of his requires a banquet and a cup of the consenting wine first.”
Hearing this, the queen at once issued a command setting the Court of Imperial Entertainments to lay out a banquet. On the other side the great equipage was marshalled, to go out of the city and receive her lord. The women officials reverently obeyed the royal command, swept out the palace halls, and spread the courts and terraces. One party set out the banquet and arranged it with all speed; another party set out the equipage and made ready like a shooting star.
Now see: though Western Liang was a country of women, its imperial equipage yielded nothing to the splendour of the Middle Flowery Land. Behold:
Six dragons breathing colour;
a pair of phoenixes bringing luck.
Six dragons breathing colour bear the carriage forth;
a pair of phoenixes bringing luck draw on the palanquin.
Richly, richly the rare fragrance hangs;
in swirling coils the auspicious vapour opens.
Gold fish-tallies and jade pendants — the officers throng;
jewelled coils and cloudy tresses — the women rank.
Mandarin-duck hand-fans screen the royal carriage;
kingfisher pearl-blinds shadow the phoenix pins.
Reed-pipe and song, the notes are fair;
string and flute, the sound is in accord.
One sheet of gladness rushes up to the sapphire sky;
boundless joy comes forth from the Terrace of the Spirit.
Three-tiered gauze canopies sway against the vault of heaven;
banners of five colours flash upon the imperial stairs.
In this land, from of old, no nuptial cup was ever shared;
today the queen is matched to a man of parts.
Before long the great equipage came out of the city and had soon reached the Posthouse of Welcomed Yang. Suddenly someone came to report to Tripitaka and his disciples: “The equipage has arrived.” Hearing this, Tripitaka straightened his robes together with his three disciples and came out of the hall to receive it.
The queen rolled up the blind, came down from her palanquin, and said, “Which of them is the imperial brother of the Tang?”
The Grand Preceptor pointed. “The one outside the posthouse gate, before the incense table, in the long-seamed gown — that is he.”
The queen flashed her phoenix eyes and drew together her moth brows, looked carefully, and found him a figure beyond the common indeed. Look at him:
His bearing noble and commanding,
his countenance lofty and high.
Teeth white as a facing of silver,
lips red and the mouth foursquare.
Crown level, forehead broad, the heavenly granaries full;
eyes fine, brows clear, the earthly chamber long.
Two ears with rims complete — a man of real distinction;
a whole person free of the common — this is a gifted gallant.
What a bright-aged, clever, handsome, dashing fellow —
fit to be matched with the fair and modest lady of Western Liang.
When the queen had looked her fill at what so gladdened her heart and pleased her fancy, before she knew it her wanton feeling ran high and her desire ran unchecked; and opening her small cherry mouth she called out, “Imperial brother of the Great Tang — will you not come and take the phoenix and ride the simurgh?”
Tripitaka heard her, and his ears reddened and his face went scarlet; abashed and abashed, he dared not raise his head.
Zhu Eight Rules, standing by, thrust out his snout and looked the queen over with heavy, half-shut eyes; and she was indeed slender and graceful. Truly:
Brows like kingfisher plumes;
flesh like the fat of mutton-jade.
Her cheeks set off by petals of peach blossom;
her coiled hair heaped with threads of golden phoenix.
Autumn ripples, clear and deep — a bewitching air;
spring bamboo-shoots, slender and fine — a tender, winning grace.
Red gauze hanging aslant floats out its brilliant colour;
pearl and kingfisher pinned high show forth their radiance.
What talk is there of Zhaojun's beauty?
Truly she outdoes Xi Shi herself.
Her willow waist bends a little and the gold pendants chime;
her lotus steps move lightly and stir her limbs of jade.
Chang'e in the moon could scarcely come up to this;
how should the immortal maids of the ninefold heaven be such as she?
Her palace dress of cunning fashion is of no common kind —
truly the Queen Mother come down from the Jasper Pool.
When the Idiot had looked his fill at the best of it, he could not hold back the drool that ran from his mouth; a deer went butting in his breast, and in a moment his bones went soft and his sinews slack, so that he was for all the world like a lion of snow set before a fire, melting quite away before he knew it.
Then the queen came up close, seized Tripitaka in one grip, and called out in a pretty, coaxing voice, “My dear imperial brother, be pleased to mount the dragon carriage and come up with me to the hall of the golden bells, and let us be matched as husband and wife.”
The elder trembled so that he could not keep his feet, and was like a man drunk, like a man witless.
Pilgrim, at his side, instructed him: “Master, there is no need for so much modesty. Be pleased to mount the palanquin with our teacher-mother. Have the passport countersigned quickly, and let us be off to fetch the scriptures.”
The elder dared not answer; he gave Pilgrim two rubs with his hand, and could not stop the tears from falling.
“Master, do not distress yourself,” said Pilgrim. “Such wealth and rank as this — and you will not enjoy it? What are you waiting for?”
Tripitaka had no help for it and could only comply. He wiped his eyes, forced his face into a cheerful set, stepped forward, and with the sovereign lady —
took hands, pale hand in pale hand, and shared the dragon carriage.
The sovereign lady, all gladness, desired to be joined as man and wife;
the elder, all dread, thought only of worshipping Buddha.
The one would have the bridal chamber, the flowering candles, the mated ducks;
the other would have the Spirit Mountain of the Western Region, and the sight of the World-Honoured One.
The woman emperor in true feeling; the holy monk in false.
The woman emperor in true feeling, hoping for concord and to grow old together;
the holy monk in false, hiding his feeling away close and nourishing his primal spirit.
The one, glad at the sight of a man's body, could hardly wait to lay their heads together in broad day and be husband and wife;
the other, afraid to meet a woman's beauty, thought only of slipping the net that instant and going up to Thunderclap.
The two came together and mounted the palanquin as one —
who would have guessed the Tang monk had a mind apart?
The civil and military officers, seeing their sovereign and the elder mount the phoenix palanquin together and sit shoulder to shoulder, were every one of them wreathed in smiles; they wheeled the ceremonial train about and went back into the city. Only then did the Great Sage Sun set Sha Monk to shoulder the luggage and lead the white horse, and follow along behind the great equipage.
Zhu Eight Rules went scampering on ahead, reached the front of the Five-Phoenix Tower first, and bawled out, “Very comfortable! Very convenient! This won't do, this won't do. The wedding wine should be drunk before the bride is taken in — that is the proper way.”
He so startled the women officials who carried the regalia and led the way that they came back one and all to the carriage and said, “Your Majesty, that one with the long snout and the big ears is bawling in front of the Five-Phoenix Tower that he wants wedding wine to drink.”
Hearing the report, the sovereign lady leaned her fragrant shoulder against the elder's, pressed her peach-blossom cheek to his, opened her sandalwood mouth and called prettily, “My dear imperial brother, which of your worthy disciples is the one with the long snout and the big ears?”
“That is my second disciple,” said Tripitaka. “He was born with a wide gullet and has spent his whole life seeking a full mouth. Some wine and food must be set out for him to eat first; only then can anything be done.”
The sovereign lady asked at once, “Has the Court of Imperial Entertainments finished setting out the banquet?”
“It is finished,” a woman official reported. “Two kinds have been laid, meat and meatless, in the Eastern Pavilion.”
“Why two kinds?” the queen asked again.
“Your servant feared that the imperial brother of the Tang and his worthy disciples habitually keep a meatless diet,” the official reported, “and so there are two kinds, meat and meatless.”
The queen, smiling and smiling again, pressed close to the elder's fragrant cheek. “My dear imperial brother, do you eat meat, or meatless?”
“This poor monk keeps a meatless diet,” said Tripitaka, “but I have never taken a vow against wine. A few cups of the meatless wine will be wanted, so that my second disciple may drink a little.”
Before he had finished speaking, the Grand Preceptor submitted: “Be pleased to go to the Eastern Pavilion for the banquet. Tonight is a lucky day and a fine hour, and the venerable imperial brother may be married at once. Tomorrow heaven opens the Yellow Way; let the venerable imperial brother mount the hall of treasure, face south, change the reign-title and take the throne.”
The queen was greatly delighted; she took the elder hand in hand and supported him, came down from the dragon carriage, and went in with him through the Upright Gate. And behold:
Wind carries the immortals' music down from tower and terrace;
through the Changhe gate the kingfisher palanquin comes.
The phoenix gate-towers fling wide, their brightness soft and thick;
the royal palace stands unbarred, its brocades ranged in rows.
Within the Unicorn Hall the censer smoke curls up;
beside the peacock screen the chamber shadows turn.
Pavilion and gallery rise sheer as in a superior realm;
the Jade Hall and Golden Horse are more marvellous still.
When they had come below the Eastern Pavilion they heard besides a whole strain of pipe and song, sweet in its notes, and saw two rows of powder and rouge, charming of face. In the middle of the hall two kinds of great banquet were set out: at the head on the left the meatless feast, at the head on the right the meat feast. Down the two side rows, all were single tables.
The queen gathered in her robe-sleeves and, with her ten slender fingers, raised a jade cup and came to seat her guests. Pilgrim came forward and said, “We master and disciples all keep a meatless diet. Let our master be seated first at the meatless table on the left; then three tables further down, divided left and right, so that we brothers may sit.”
“Just so, just so,” said the Grand Preceptor, delighted. “Master and disciples are as father and sons; they may not sit shoulder to shoulder.”
The women officials hastily rearranged the table settings. The queen passed the cup to each in turn and seated the three brothers. Pilgrim then threw the Tang monk a glance, setting his master to return the courtesy, and Tripitaka came down, took up a jade cup in his turn, and seated the queen. The civil and military officers bowed toward the throne in thanks for the royal favour, took their places by rank and precedence on either side, and only then was the music stopped and the wine invited.
As for Eight Rules, what did he care for good or bad? He opened up his belly and simply set to eating. Nor did he care what it was — jade-dust rice, plain rice, steamed cakes, sugar cakes, mushrooms, fragrant fungus, bamboo shoots, wood-ear, day-lily buds, agar-weed, laver, turnip, taro, radish, yam, Solomon's-seal — he bolted the lot down at one go till the dishes stood bare, and drank off five or seven cups of wine.
Then he bawled with his mouth full, “See that more is brought and the dishes changed! Fetch the big beakers! Let us drink a few more and then everyone go about his business.”
“A fine banquet, and you won't eat it,” asked Sha Monk. “What business is there still to go about?”
The Idiot laughed. “The ancients had a saying: Let the bow-maker make bows, and the arrow-maker make arrows. Now, with us: let the one who takes a husband take him, and the one who is given in marriage be given; let those who fetch scriptures go on fetching scriptures and those who travel go on travelling. Don't go greedy over the cup and spoil the business. Get the passport dispatched, and be quick about it. As the saying is: the general does not dismount — each hurries on to the road ahead.”
Hearing this, the queen at once ordered the large cups to be brought. The attendant officers hastily fetched out parrot cups, cormorant ladles, golden poluo bowls, silver chased goblets, glass beakers, crystal basins, Penglai bowls and amber cups; they filled them brimming with jade liquor and poured out sweet nectar without pause, and sure enough each of them drank a round.
Tripitaka inclined himself and rose, put his palms together before the queen and said, “Your Majesty, I am much obliged for so lavish a spread, but the wine is enough already. Be pleased to mount the hall of treasure, countersign the passport, and while the day is still early see these three out of the city.”
The queen did as he said: taking the elder by the hand, she broke up the banquet, went up to the golden-bell treasure hall, and at once offered the elder the throne.
“It cannot be, it cannot be,” said Tripitaka. “The Grand Preceptor said just now that tomorrow heaven opens the Yellow Way; only then would this poor monk dare take the throne and style himself the Solitary One. Today let the passport be sealed and the three of them dispatched.”
The queen did as he said. She resumed her seat on the dragon couch, had a golden folding chair fetched and set at the left hand of it, and invited the Tang monk to sit. He called to his disciples to bring up the passport; the Great Sage set Sha Monk to untie the bundle and take it out, and then raised it up in both hands.
The queen looked it over carefully. At the head were nine seals of the emperor of the Great Tang; below were the seal of the Precious Image Kingdom, the seal of the Black Cock Kingdom, and the seal of the Cart Slow Kingdom. When she had done looking she said, in the sweetest of voices, “So my dear imperial brother is surnamed Chen as well?”
“In the world my surname was Chen,” said Tripitaka; “my dharma-name — the name a master gives at ordination — is Xuanzang. Because my Tang sovereign in his sage kindness acknowledged me as his imperial brother, he bestowed on me the surname Tang.”
“How is it,” said the queen, “that the names of your worthy disciples are not on the passport?”
“The three stubborn disciples,” said Tripitaka, “are not people of my Tang dynasty.”
“If they are not people of your Tang,” said the queen, “why were they willing to come with you?”
“The eldest disciple,” said Tripitaka, “is by ancestral registry a man of the Aolai Kingdom in the Eastern Continent of Superior Spirit; the second is a man of Wusi Manor in the Western Continent of Cattle-Gift; the third is a man of the Flowing-Sand River. All three of them offended against the ordinances of Heaven, and the Bodhisattva Guanyin of the Southern Sea released them from their suffering; they laid hold of goodness and took refuge in the faith, and to redeem their guilt by merit they undertook of their own will to protect me on the road west to fetch the scriptures. They were all gathered up along the road, and that is why their dharma-names are not entered on the document.”
“Shall I add their dharma-names for you?” said the queen. “Would that be well?”
“As Your Majesty's honoured pleasure may be,” said Tripitaka.
The queen at once ordered ink and brush brought; she ground the fragrant cake thick and soaked the fragrant tip full, and after the text of the document wrote up the names of the three: Sun Wukong, Zhu Wuneng, Sha Wujing. Only then did she take out the imperial seal and stamp it square and true; and she drew her own signature and flourish, and had it passed down. The Great Sage Sun received it and set Sha Monk to stow it away properly.
The queen further bestowed a tray of broken gold and broken silver; she came down from the dragon couch and handed it to Pilgrim, saying, “Let the three of you take this for the present as travelling money, and set out early for the Western Heaven; and when you come back with the scriptures, We shall have a handsome thanks for you besides.”
“We who have left the household life,” said Pilgrim, “do not accept gold and silver. There will be places enough along the road to beg at.”
Seeing that he would not take it, the queen brought out ten bolts of damask and brocade and said to Pilgrim, “You are in haste to be off and there is no time for cutting and sewing; take this along the road and make yourselves garments against the cold.”
“Those who have left the household life may not wear damask and brocade,” said Pilgrim. “We have cloth robes of our own to cover the body.”
Seeing that he would not take that either, the queen gave the order: “Fetch three shēng of the royal rice, to serve them for a meal along the way.” Eight Rules, hearing the word meal, took it at once and tucked it in among the bundles.
“Brother,” said Pilgrim, “the luggage is heavy enough as it is. Have you the strength to carry rice on top of it?”
Eight Rules laughed. “What do you know about it? Rice, now — rice is a thing that goes in a day. One meal and the account is closed.” And with that he put his palms together and gave thanks for the favour.
“Might I trouble Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka, “to come out of the city with this poor monk and see the three of them off? Let me lay a few charges on them and set them well on their way west; then I shall come back, and Your Majesty and I may enjoy glory together for ever, with nothing hanging on the mind and nothing pulling at it — and only so may simurgh and phoenix come together.”
The queen did not know it was a plan. She gave the command for the equipage, leaned her fragrant flesh against Tripitaka's, mounted the phoenix palanquin with him, and went out by the western wall of the city. Throughout the whole city the lamps were all replenished with pure water and the censers sent up true incense — first, to see the queen's imperial carriage; second, to see the imperial brother's manly person. Old and young alike, every one of them was of the powdered complexion and the tender face, the green temples and the cloudy coils of hair.
Before long the great equipage had come out of the city and reached the far side of the western pass.
Pilgrim, Eight Rules and Sha Monk, of one mind and one purpose and trussed up neat and trim, went straight up to meet the imperial carriage and called out in ringing voices, “The queen need not see us far. We take our leave here.”
The elder came slowly down from the dragon carriage, made a bow with clasped hands to the queen, and said, “Your Majesty, be pleased to go back. Let this poor monk go and fetch the scriptures.”
Hearing this, the queen was greatly alarmed and lost her colour. She caught hold of the Tang monk and said, “My dear imperial brother — I was willing to take you as husband with the wealth of a whole kingdom; tomorrow you would have mounted high to the treasure seat, taken the throne and been styled sovereign, and I would have been your queen. The wedding feast has been eaten to the last dish. How is it that you go back on it now?”
Eight Rules, hearing this, worked himself into a fury: he twisted his snout about and flapped his ears wildly, charged up before the carriage and bawled, “What sort of husband and wife would we monks make with a powdered skeleton like you? Let my master go on his way!”
When the queen saw him behaving so outrageously and pulling such hideous faces, she was so terrified that her soul flew off and her spirits scattered, and she fell back into the palanquin. Sha Monk meanwhile snatched Tripitaka out of the press and helped him up onto the horse.
Then from beside the road a young woman flashed out and shouted, “Imperial brother of the Tang — where are you off to? Come along with me and let us dally at wind and moon.”
“You villainous creature, have you no sense!” Sha Monk cursed. He drew his precious staff and struck straight at her head. But the woman raised a whirlwind and, with a whoosh, carried the Tang monk off — no shadow of him, no trace, and no knowing where he had come down.
Ah! And this is just the way of it:
Escaped from the net of mist and flowers,
he meets the demon of wind and moon.
In the end there is no knowing whether that woman was a mortal or a monster, nor whether the old master's life was to be lost or saved; and for that, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.