Through the twelve double-hours it must not be forgotten,
the work of all hundred marks gathered whole.
Five years, a hundred and eight thousand rounds:
let not the divine water run dry,
nor loose the fire-glare into grief.
Water and fire brought to balance, and no place harmed,
the five phases linked one to the next like a hook.
Yin and yang in concord mount the cloud-tower —
riding the simurgh, up to the Purple Bureau,
astride the crane, away for Yingzhou.
This one lyric, to the tune-name Immortal By The River, tells only of how Tripitaka Tang and his disciples, four in all, brought water and fire to completion, so that the original nature was made cool. Having borrowed the treasure fan of pure yin, they fanned the parching fire out and passed the mountain; and in less than a day they had covered eight hundred lǐ of road, and master and disciples, free and unhurried, went on toward the west.
It fell just at the season when autumn ends and winter begins, and they saw such things as these:
Wild chrysanthemums let their last blooms fall;
the new plum sets its tender buds.
Village upon village takes in the standing grain;
everywhere they are eating the fragrant broth.
In the level woods the leaves come down and the far hills show;
at the winding stream the frost lies thick and the deep ravine runs clear.
The Yingzhong pitch stirs; the burrowing creatures close their nests.
Pure now are yin and yang; the month's god is Xuanming;
the Water Virtue stands at its height; the sun of Shun is kind with clear weather.
The breath of earth sinks downward; the breath of heaven climbs.
The rainbow hides and casts no shadow;
on pool and marsh the ice begins.
On the hanging cliff the trailing vines have dropped their flowers;
pine and bamboo, gripped by the cold, are greener than before.
The four of them had travelled a good while when a walled city came near ahead of them. Tripitaka reined in his horse and called to his disciple: “Wukong, look at those towers and halls rearing up over there. What sort of place is that?” Pilgrim raised his head and looked; and it was a walled city. Truly it was:
A dragon coiled in the lie of the land;
a tiger crouched, a wall of gold.
On four sides the canopy hangs low and near;
through a hundred windings the purple wards lie level.
Jade-stone bridge-rails ranked with cunning beasts;
golden terraces and daises set with men of worth.
Truly a metropolis of the sacred land, a storehouse of heaven, a capital of jade.
For ten thousand lǐ the royal domain stands firm;
through a thousand years the imperial enterprise rises.
Barbarians fold their hands in submission, so far does the ruler's grace reach;
sea and mountain come to court at the source, and the sage assembly is full.
The imperial stairs are spotless; the carriage-road is quiet and calm.
In the wine-shops the singing is loud; from the flowered towers a glad air rises.
Outside the Weiyang Palace, the trees of everlasting spring;
fittingly they let the coloured phoenix cry on the sunward slope.
Pilgrim said, “Master, that city is the seat of a kingdom's ruler.”
Eight Rules laughed. “Everywhere under heaven a prefecture has its prefectural wall and a county its county wall. How do you make out straight off that this is a ruler's seat?”
“You do not know that a ruler's residence is of itself unlike a prefecture or a county,” said Pilgrim. “Look at it: it has some ten-odd gates on its four sides and a hundred lǐ and more about it, with towers and terraces rearing high and cloud and mist in profusion. If it were not an imperial capital of a state, how should it have such grandeur?”
Sha Monk said, “Brother has a sharp eye. But though you can tell it is a ruler's seat, what is the place called?”
“There is neither signboard nor standard,” said Pilgrim. “How should anyone know? We shall have to go into the city and ask; only then can we know.”
The elder put his horse forward, and in a moment they were at the gate. They dismounted, crossed the bridge, went in at the gate and looked about them. They saw six avenues and three markets, goods multiplying and money moving freely; and they saw caps and gowns in their splendour, and the people magnificent.
As they were going along they suddenly saw ten or more monks, every one of them in a cangue and chained, begging from door to door, and truly ragged past bearing. Tripitaka sighed and said, “When the hare dies the fox grieves; a creature is wounded by what befalls its kind.” He called out, “Wukong, go up and ask them why they should suffer so.”
Pilgrim did as he was told and called out at once, “You there, monks — which temple do you belong to? For what offence do you wear the cangue and the chain?”
The monks all fell to their knees. “Your Reverence, we are the wronged monks of the Temple of Golden Light.”
“Whereabouts does the Temple of Golden Light stand?”
“Round the corner, and there it is.”
Pilgrim brought them before Tripitaka and asked, “How have you been wronged? Tell it and I shall hear you.”
“Your Reverence,” said the monks, “we do not know from what quarter you have come, but your faces seem to us somewhat familiar. We dare not tell it here. Come to our poor hill, and we will set out our sufferings in full.”
“Just so,” said the elder. “Let us go to that temple of theirs and question them carefully about the cause.”
They came together to the mountain gate, and across it were written seven golden characters: The Temple of Golden Light, Built by Imperial Command for the Protection of the State.
Master and disciples came in at the gate and looked about them, and this is what they saw:
In the old hall the incense-lamp is cold;
down the empty gallery leaves sweep in the wind.
A pagoda of a thousand chǐ piercing the cloud;
a few pines nurturing their nature.
Fallen blossom covers the ground and no visitor passes;
before the eaves the spiders' webs are left to climb and cage as they please.
The drum is mounted to no purpose, the bell hung in vain;
dust lies thick on the painted walls and the coloured images are dim.
The lecture-seat stands in shadow and no monk is to be seen;
the meditation hall is silent, and birds are often met with there.
Desolation enough to sigh over; a loneliness whose bitterness has no end.
Before the Buddha a censer is indeed set out;
but the ash is cold, the flowers are spent, and every thing is empty.
Tripitaka's heart turned within him, and he could not hold back the tears that came to his eyes. The monks, still bearing their cangues and chains, pushed open the main hall and invited the elder to go up and worship the Buddha. The elder went into the hall, offered up the incense of the heart, and clicked his teeth three times. Then turning to the back, he saw six or seven young monks chained besides to the eaves-pillars of the abbot's quarters, and Tripitaka could hardly bear to look at them.
When they came to the abbot's quarters the monks all knocked their heads on the ground and asked, “Your Reverences are not alike in feature. Can it be that you have come from the Land of the East, from the Great Tang?”
Pilgrim laughed. “What art of knowing-without-divining have these monks got? We are indeed. How did you know us?”
“Your Reverence, what art of knowing-without-divining should we have?” said the monks. “It is only that we bear a bitter wrong with nowhere to make it plain, and day upon day we do nothing but cry out to heaven and cry out to earth. We suppose the gods of heaven were stirred by it, for last night every one of us had the same dream: it said that a holy monk would come from the Great Tang in the Land of the East who would save our lives, so that this wrong and bitterness might be redressed. Today we have indeed seen Your Reverences with just such uncommon features, and so we knew you.”
Tripitaka heard it with great delight and said, “What place is this of yours? And what wrong do you suffer?”
The monks knelt and told him. “Your Reverence, this city is called the Kingdom of Sacrificial Offerings, and it is a great place among the western states. In those years four tribes came to court with tribute: to the south, the Kingdom of Yuetuo; to the north, the Kingdom of Gaochang; to the east, the Kingdom of Xiliang; to the west, the Kingdom of Benbo. Year upon year they sent up fine jade, bright pearls, lovely consorts and swift horses. Here we moved neither shield nor spear and mounted no campaign, and there they of themselves acknowledged us their sovereign state.”
“Since they acknowledged you their sovereign state,” said Tripitaka, “I suppose this king of yours possesses the Way, and that his civil and military officers are worthy and good.”
“Your Reverence, the civil officers are not worthy, the military are not good, and the sovereign does not possess the Way either. It is that this Temple of Golden Light of ours has always had auspicious cloud wrapped about its precious pagoda and lucky vapour rising high from it: by night it gave off a rosy light that men ten thousand lǐ away had seen, and by day it breathed coloured air, and all four states alike looked upon it. For that reason they took this for the storehouse of heaven and the holy capital, and the four tribes came to court with tribute.
“But three years ago, on the first day of the first month of autumn, at the hour of zǐ in the middle of the night, there fell a rain of blood. When day broke, every family was afraid and every household grieved. The great officers memorialised the king, not knowing for what matter the Lord of Heaven was reproving them. At that time Daoists were invited in to hold their rites and monks to read the scriptures, in answer to heaven and in thanks to earth.
“Who was to know that in this temple of ours the golden pagoda had been fouled, so that for these two years the foreign states have not come to court with tribute. Our king wished to march against them, and the officers remonstrated, saying that the monks of this temple had stolen the treasure from the pagoda, and that this was why there was no auspicious cloud and no lucky vapour, and why the foreign states did not come to court. The muddled sovereign made no inquiry at all. Those corrupt officials took our whole community away, beat us a thousand ways and pressed us in ten thousand fashions. At that time there were three cohorts of monks here: the first two could not endure the beating and died; now they have taken our own cohort besides, and sentenced us to the cangue and the chain.
“Your Reverence being above us — how should we dare deceive our own hearts and steal the treasure out of the pagoda! We beg Your Reverence to have pity on us. Like gathers with like and creatures divide by their kinds — bestow the great mercy and the great compassion, spread abroad the power of the Law, and save our lives.”
Tripitaka heard them out, nodded, and said with a sigh, “This affair is dark and hard to make out. For one thing the court has failed in its governing; for another, a calamity was owing to you. Since heaven sent down a rain of blood and fouled the precious pagoda, why did you not memorialise the throne at the time, rather than let it come to this suffering?”
“Your Reverence, we are ordinary men,” said the monks. “How should we know the mind of heaven? And besides, the cohorts before us could none of them make it out. What were we to do about it?”
Tripitaka said, “Wukong, what hour of the day is it now?”
“Somewhere about the hour of shēn,” said Pilgrim.
“I mean to have audience of the king and get our travel document exchanged; but this business of the monks cannot be made clear, and it is hard to lay before him. When I set out from Chang'an I made a vow in the Temple of the Dharma Gate: that going west I would burn incense at every shrine I came to, worship the Buddha at every temple I met, and sweep every pagoda I saw. Today I have come here and met monks suffering a wrong, and it is the pagoda that has drawn it down on them. Get me a new broom. When I have bathed I shall go up and sweep, and see how this business of the fouling stands, and why the light is not given off. Once I have found out the truth of it, I can properly lay it before the king and deliver them out of this calamity.”
When the monks in the cangues heard this they hurried to the kitchen for a kitchen knife and handed it to Eight Rules. “Your Reverence, take this knife and strike off the iron locks that hold the young monks to the pillars, so that they may go and get the vegetarian meal and the scented water ready, and wait on Your Reverences at table and at bath. And we will go out into the street and beg a new broom for Your Reverence to sweep the pagoda with.”
Eight Rules laughed. “What is difficult about opening a lock? No need of knife or axe. Let that hairy-faced Reverence of mine do it — he is an old hand at opening locks.”
Pilgrim did indeed step up, worked a lock-loosing spell, passed his hand across them once, and the locks all fell away. The young monks all ran off to the kitchen, scoured the pots and the stove clean, and got the meal ready.
Tripitaka and his disciples ate their meal, and little by little the sky darkened. Then the monks in the cangues came in carrying two brooms, and Tripitaka was very pleased. Just as they were speaking, a young monk brought a lamp and asked him to come and bathe. By now the sky was full of the light of stars and moon, and from the watchtower the drums of the night-watch sounded together. Truly it was:
On the four walls a cold wind rises;
in ten thousand homes the lamps burn bright.
Along the six avenues doors and windows are shut;
in the three markets gate and courtyard are closed.
The fishing skiff comes home among the deep trees;
the plough leaves off its short rope.
The woodman's axe-haft is at rest;
the scholar's voice is heard at his recitation.
When Tripitaka had finished bathing he put on a narrow-sleeved short gown, tied a ringed sash about him, changed into a pair of soft slippers, took a new broom in his hand, and said to the monks, “Get you to your rest. I am going up to sweep the pagoda.”
Pilgrim said, “The pagoda has been fouled by the rain of blood, and it has been without light a long while besides; there may be evil things bred in it. For one thing the night is still and the wind cold, and you have no companion. Going alone there might be a mishap. Suppose old Sun goes up with you?”
“Very good, very good,” said Tripitaka.
The two of them took a broom apiece, went first to the great hall, lit the glazed lamp, burned incense, and bowed before the Buddha, saying: “Your disciple Chen Xuanzang, sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to Vulture Peak to have audience of our Buddha the Tathagata and fetch the scriptures, is come today to the Temple of Golden Light in the Kingdom of Sacrificial Offerings, and hears from the monks here that the precious pagoda has been fouled, that the king suspects them of stealing its treasure, and that they bear a wrong and are sentenced for it, with neither above nor below able to make it clear. Your disciple will sweep the pagoda with all his heart. May the awful power of our Buddha show early the cause of the fouling, and let no ordinary man bear a wrong.”
The prayer done, he and Pilgrim opened the pagoda door and swept from the lowest storey upward. And this pagoda — truly it was:
Lofty, leaning on the Milky Way; abrupt, riding upon the void.
Rightly named the tower of five-coloured glass, the peak of the thousand-gold relic.
The stair winds as though boring through a cave;
a door opens as though one were coming out of a cage.
The treasure-vase casts its shadow at the moon on heaven's rim;
the golden bell carries its note on the wind off the sea.
But look at it — the airy eaves with their bracket-sets, the utmost summit holding cloud.
Airy eaves with bracket-sets, worked out of cunning stone into phoenixes threading flowers;
utmost summit holding cloud, built into a stupa with dragons wreathing it in mist.
Gazing out, one may see a thousand lǐ beyond;
climbing high, one seems to stand in the ninth heaven.
Storey upon storey, glazed lamps above the doors — dust on them and no fire;
step upon step, white jade railings before the eaves — grime piled up and insects flying.
In the pagoda's heart, on the Buddha's seat, the incense smoke has utterly ceased;
outside the window lattice, before the spirits' faces, spiders' webs are drawn across in a haze.
In the censer there is much rat-dropping; in the lamp-cup little melted oil.
All because the treasure in the middle was lost in secret,
the monks were tormented to their deaths and their lives came to nothing.
Tripitaka sets his heart upon sweeping the pagoda,
and shall surely see its old face again.
The Tang monk swept one storey with his broom, and then went up another. Sweeping on in this way he came to the seventh storey, and by then it was already the second watch. The elder was growing weary, and Pilgrim said, “You are worn out. Sit down a while and let old Sun sweep in your stead.”
“How many storeys has this pagoda?” said Tripitaka.
“I dare say there are thirteen.”
The elder, bearing up under his weariness, said, “It must certainly be swept. Only so is the vow satisfied.”
He swept three storeys more; his back ached and his legs hurt, and he sat down on the tenth, saying, “Wukong, sweep those three clean for me and come down.”
Pilgrim shook up his spirits, climbed to the eleventh storey, and in a moment was on the twelfth. Just as he was sweeping, he heard voices on the top of the pagoda.
“Strange! Strange!” said Pilgrim. “It is getting on for the third watch. How should there be anyone talking up on this top? It is assuredly some evil thing. I shall go and take a look.”
Good Monkey King! Tucking the broom lightly under his arm and gathering up his robe, he slipped out at the front door and stood on a cloud head to look. He saw, in the heart of the thirteenth storey, two fiends sitting, with a dish of relishes, a bowl and a pot set out before them, playing the finger-game and drinking away there. Pilgrim worked a spell, threw down the broom, drew out his gold-hooped rod, barred the pagoda door and shouted, “So, monsters! It was you who stole the treasure from the pagoda after all.”
The two monsters were thrown into confusion, sprang up, and flung pot and bowl about wildly. Pilgrim held them off with his iron rod laid crosswise, saying, “If I beat you to death there will be nobody to give a deposition.” He only pressed in upon them with the rod. The fiends were pinned flat against the wall and could not struggle so much as an inch. They only cried out, “Spare us! Spare us! It is no doing of ours — the one who stole the treasure is over yonder.”
Pilgrim worked a seizing spell, caught them up in one hand, carried them straight down to the tenth storey, and reported, “Master, I have caught a thief who stole the treasure.”
Tripitaka had been dozing. Hearing this he was startled and delighted together, and said, “Where did you take them?”
Pilgrim dragged the monsters up before him and forced them to their knees. “They were up on the top of the pagoda playing the finger-game and drinking for sport. Old Sun heard the racket, sprang up on a cloud, and cut them off at the top. I did not put out my strength. I was afraid one blow of the rod would kill them and there would be nobody to give a deposition, so I took them gently. Master may take their statement, and see what sort of fiends they are and where the stolen treasure is.”
The monsters, shaking with terror, cried out “Spare us!” and then made a truthful confession. “We two are sent to patrol the pagoda by the Myriad Sage Dragon King of the Green Wave Pool in the Mountain of Scattered Rocks. He is called Benbo'erba and I am called Babo'erben; he is a catfish spirit and I a black-fish sprite.
“Because our Myriad Sage Old Dragon begot a daughter, who is called the Myriad Sage Princess — and that princess has the face of a flower and the features of the moon, with beauty to twenty parts out of ten — she took a consort, called the Nine-Headed Consort, and his magic powers are vast. The year before last he came here with the Dragon King, displayed his great powers, sent down a shower of blood, fouled the precious pagoda, and stole the Buddha-treasure, the relic, from the middle of it. The princess for her part went up to the Great Canopy Heaven, to the front of the Numinous Empyrean Hall, and stole the Queen Mother's nine-leaved magic fungus, and keeps it at the bottom of that pool, where its golden light and rosy glow shine day and night.
“Of late they have heard that one Sun Wukong is going west to fetch scriptures, and it is said his magic powers are vast and that all along the road he does nothing but seek out other people's faults. So of late they have often sent us here to spy about, in order that if that Sun Wukong should arrive there would be time to prepare.”
Pilgrim heard it out and gave a cold snickering laugh. “The wretched creatures, to be as insolent as this! No wonder the Bull Demon King was invited to a feast over yonder the other day — so this is the gang of rascally fiends he keeps company with, and no good is what they spend their time on.”
Before he had finished speaking, Eight Rules and two or three of the young monks came up from the foot of the pagoda carrying two lanterns. “Master, you have swept the pagoda and are not going to bed — what are you all talking about up here?”
“Brother, you have come just at the right moment,” said Pilgrim. “The treasure from the pagoda was stolen by the Myriad Sage Old Dragon. He has now set these two small fiends to patrol the pagoda and get word of our coming, and I have just this moment caught them.”
“What are they called?” said Eight Rules. “What sort of fiends?”
“They have just now given their statement. One is called Benbo'erba and one Babo'erben; one is a catfish spirit and one a black-fish sprite.”
Eight Rules drew out his rake to strike them. “Since they are fiends and their statement has been taken, what are we waiting for if not to beat them to death?”
“You do not understand,” said Pilgrim. “Keep them alive for the present. They will do to speak before the emperor, and they will do as the hole to work through in tracking down the thief and recovering the treasure.”
Good Idiot! He did indeed put up his rake, and they took one apiece and carried them down out of the pagoda. The fiends only cried, “Spare us!”
“It is precisely you catfish and black fish I want,” said Eight Rules, “to make a little fresh broth for those wronged monks to eat.”
Two or three of the young monks, in high delight, carried the lanterns and led the elder down out of the pagoda. One ran on ahead to tell the others: “It is well, it is well! We shall see the blue sky again — Their Reverences have caught the fiends who stole the treasure and brought them down!”
Pilgrim gave the order: “Fetch iron chains, run them through the shoulder-bones, and lock them up here. You keep watch on them. We are going to sleep, and will deal with it again tomorrow.”
Those monks all kept close watch, and let Tripitaka and his disciples take their rest.
Before they knew it the day had dawned. The elder said, “Wukong and I will go to court and get the travel document exchanged.” He at once put on the brocade-bordered cassock, set the Vairocana crown upon his head, ordered his bearing, and strode forward. Pilgrim too gave his tiger-skin kilt a hitch, straightened his plain cotton gown, took up the travel document, and went along with him.
“Why not take these two fiend-thieves along?” said Eight Rules.
“Wait until we have made our memorial,” said Pilgrim. “There will be a warrant then, and men sent to fetch them.”
So they came out before the gate of the court. There was no looking one's fill at the vermilion birds and yellow dragons, the pure capital with its crimson towers. Tripitaka came to the Eastern Flowery Gate and made his bow to the Grand Usher of the Gate. “May I trouble your honour to carry word within? This poor monk is one sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to the West to fetch scriptures, and desires audience of the king, to have his travel document exchanged.”
The Yellow Gate officer did indeed carry it in, and reported before the steps: “Outside there are two monks of strange face and strange dress, who declare themselves sent by the Tang court in the Land of the East, in the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa, to the West to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures. They wish audience of our king, to have their travel document exchanged.”
The king heard it and gave the order that they be summoned, and the elder at once led Pilgrim into the court. The officers civil and military saw Pilgrim, and there was not one of them who was not startled and afraid. Some said he was a monkey monk; some said he was a monk with the face of the Thunder Duke. Every one of them shuddered, and none dared look long.
The elder performed his obeisance before the steps, with the dance and the shout of hail. The Great Sage stood with his hands folded, leaning to one side, and openly did not stir.
The elder made his memorial: “Your servant the monk is one sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East, in the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa, to worship the Buddha at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the western kingdom of India, and to seek the true scriptures. My road passes through your precious realm, and I dare not go through without leave. I have a travel document upon me, and beg that it may be verified so that I may proceed.”
The king heard it with great delight, and gave the order that the holy monk of the Tang court be summoned up onto the Hall of the Golden Chariot-Bells, and an embroidered stool set for him to sit. The elder went up alone, first presented the travel document with both hands, and only then gave thanks and ventured to sit.
The king read the travel document through once, and said with pleasure, “Your Tang king, being sick, could pick out an eminent monk who would not shrink from the length of the road but go and worship the Buddha and fetch scriptures; whereas the monks I have here set their whole minds on thieving, and have ruined the state and brought its sovereign down.”
Tripitaka heard it and said with his palms together, “How is it shown that they have ruined the state and brought its sovereign down?”
“This kingdom of mine is a sovereign state of the Western Regions,” said the king, “and the four tribes used to come with tribute — all because within the kingdom there is a Temple of Golden Light, and within the temple a golden treasure pagoda, and on the pagoda a radiance that went up to the sky. Lately the thieving monks of that temple secretly made away with the treasure in the middle of it. For three years there has been no radiance, and for these three years the foreign states have not come to court; and my heart is sore with hatred of it.”
Tripitaka smiled with his palms together. “Your Majesty — a hair's breadth of discrepancy, and one goes a thousand lǐ astray. This poor monk came to your capital yesterday evening, and no sooner had he entered the city gate than he saw ten or more monks in cangue and fetter. I asked what their offence was, and they told me they were the wronged monks of the Temple of Golden Light. So I went to the temple and examined the matter closely: it is no concern of the temple's monks at all. This poor monk went up at nightfall to sweep the pagoda, and has already taken the fiend-thieves who stole the treasure.”
The king was greatly delighted. “Where are the fiend-thieves?”
“They are at this moment locked up by my disciple in the Temple of Golden Light.”
The king at once sent down a golden tablet: “Let the Embroidered-Uniform Guard go quickly to the Temple of Golden Light and fetch the fiend-thieves. I shall examine them myself.”
Tripitaka memorialised again. “Your Majesty, though there is the Embroidered-Uniform Guard, my disciple must still go too, and only then may it be done.”
“Where is your worthy disciple?” said the king.
Tripitaka pointed with his hand. “That one standing beside the jade steps is he.”
The king looked, and was greatly startled. “The holy monk is of such fine bearing — how comes your worthy disciple to have a face like that?”
Sun the Great Sage heard him, and called out in a harsh voice, “Your Majesty — a man is not to be measured by his looks, nor sea water by the dǒu. If it were fine bearing you wanted, how would the fiend-thieves have been caught?”
The king heard it and turned from fright to pleasure. “The holy monk is right. Here I am not choosing men for their looks. To take the thief, recover the treasure and return it to the pagoda is what matters most.” He further ordered the officer of the equipage to see to the carriage and canopy, and told the Embroidered-Uniform Guard to attend the holy monk properly and go and fetch the fiend-thieves.
The officer of the equipage at once made ready one great sedan chair and one yellow umbrella; the Guard mustered its lieutenants, took Pilgrim up eight bearing and eight flanking, and with four great shouts to clear the road went straight to the Temple of Golden Light. From this the whole city's people were stirred up, and there was no place where there was not one soul who did not come out to look at the holy monk and at the fiend-thieves.
Eight Rules and Sha Monk heard the shouts clearing the road and, supposing it was an officer sent by the king, hurried out to meet him — and it was Pilgrim sitting in the sedan chair. The Idiot laughed in his face. “Brother, you have come into your own!”
Pilgrim got down from the chair and took Eight Rules by the arm. “How have I come into my own?”
“A yellow umbrella held over you and an eight-man chair carrying you — is that not the proper office of a Monkey King? That is why I say you have come into your own.”
“Do not make fun,” said Pilgrim.
So they untied the two fiends, to take them under guard before the king. Sha Monk said, “Brother, take your little brother along, do take him along.”
“You just stay here and keep watch on the baggage and the horse.”
The monks in the cangues said, “Let all Your Reverences go and receive the royal grace. We will keep watch here.”
“If that is so,” said Pilgrim, “wait till I have memorialised the king, and I will come back and set you free.”
Eight Rules gripped one fiend-thief and Sha Monk gripped the other; Sun the Great Sage took his seat in the chair again, the vanguard was drawn up, and the two fiends were marched under guard to the court.
In a moment they were at the white jade steps, and said to the king, “The fiend-thieves have been fetched.” The king came down from the dragon couch, and with the Tang monk and the officers civil and military looked at them together. Of the fiends, one had bristling cheeks and black scales, a pointed snout and sharp teeth; the other a smooth hide and a great belly, a huge mouth and long whiskers. Though they had feet and could walk, they were on the whole only human shapes they had changed themselves into.
The king asked, “From what quarter are you thieving fiends, from what place are you demons? In what year did you invade my land, in what year did you steal my treasure? How many thieves are there in your band altogether, and what are they all called? Depose it truthfully, one thing after another.”
The two fiends knelt facing the throne, the blood running from their necks, and felt no pain at all.
They deposed: “Three years back and more, on the first day of the seventh month, there was a Myriad Sage Dragon King who led a great many of his kin to dwell to the south-east of this kingdom, a hundred lǐ and more from here. The pool is called Green Wave, the mountain is named Scattered Rocks. He begot a daughter of great charm, bewitching and beautiful. She took in a Nine-Headed Consort, whose magic powers have no match. He knew of the rare thing on your pagoda, and turning thief in full partnership with the Dragon King, first sent down a shower of blood and afterwards made off with the relic.
“It shines in the dragon palace even now, so that the blackest night is there as bright as day. The princess used her arts, silently and secretly, and stole the Queen Mother's magic fungus besides, and keeps it in the pool to nourish the treasure warm. We two are not the chiefs of the theft, only common soldiers sent by the Dragon King. Taken tonight, what we have deposed is true.”
The king said, “Since the deposition has been taken, how is it you have not deposed your own names?”
“I am called Benbo'erba, and he is called Babo'erben,” said the fiends. “Benbo'erba is a catfish spirit, and Babo'erben is a black-fish sprite.”
The king ordered the Embroidered-Uniform Guard to put them safely in prison, and sent down a decree: “Remit the cangues and chains of all the monks of the Temple of Golden Light. Have the Court of Imperial Entertainments set out a banquet at once, and upon the Unicorn Hall give thanks to the holy monk for the merit of taking the thieves, and ask him to consider the seizing of their chief.”
The Court of Imperial Entertainments at once made ready two kinds of banquet, of meat and of plain fare. The king invited the Tang monk and his three to come up to the Unicorn Hall and take their places, and asked, “What is the holy monk's honoured name?”
The Tang monk said with his palms together, “In the world this poor monk's surname was Chen, and in religion my name is Xuanzang. By my sovereign's grace I was given the surname Tang, and my humble style is Tripitaka.”
“And what are the holy monk's worthy disciples called?”
“My little disciples have no styles. The first is named Sun Wukong, the second Zhu Wuneng, the third Sha Wujing — these are the names given them by the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin of the Southern Sea. Because they took this poor monk for their master, I further called Wukong the Pilgrim, Wuneng the Eight Rules, and Wujing the Monk.”
When the king had heard him out he seated Tripitaka at the head table, Sun the Pilgrim at the side table on the left, and Zhu Eight Rules and Sha the Monk at the side table on the right.
All of it was plain fruit, plain greens, plain tea and plain rice. In front was one table of meat dishes, where the king sat; below were a hundred tables and more of meat dishes, where the officers civil and military sat. The officers gave thanks for the royal grace, the disciples begged their master's pardon, and all took their seats. The king raised the cup. Tripitaka dared not drink wine, but the three of them each accepted the cup of welcome. From below came the sound of pipes and strings striking up together — it was the Bureau of Music setting the music going.
Just look at Eight Rules opening his gullet — truly it was a tiger's gulp and a wolf's swallow — and a whole table of fruit and greens he ate up to the last crumb. In a little while fresh soup and rice were brought to replace it, and again he ate until not a hair's weight was left. When those going round with the wine came by, he refused not a single cup. This banquet went merrily on until after noon before it broke up.
Tripitaka gave thanks for the grand banquet. The king detained him again. “This one table is a slight token of the holy monk's merit in taking the fiends.” And he told the Court of Imperial Entertainments, “Move the tables quickly to the Jianzhang Palace, and invite the holy monk again, to settle the plan for taking the chief of the thieves and getting the treasure back to the pagoda.”
“Since the thief is to be taken and the treasure recovered,” said Tripitaka, “there is no need to trouble with a second banquet. This poor monk and his disciples will take leave of Your Majesty here, and go at once to catch the fiends.”
The king would not have it, but insisted on inviting them to the Jianzhang Palace, and they ate another table's worth. Then the king raised his cup. “Which of the holy monks will lead out the host, to subdue the fiends and take the monsters?”
“Let my eldest disciple Sun Wukong go,” said Tripitaka.
The Great Sage folded his hands and undertook it.
“Since the Elder Sun is going,” said the king, “how many men and horses will he need? And at what hour will he leave the city?”
Eight Rules could not hold himself in, and called out loudly, “What need of any men and horses? And what has an hour to do with it? Let us take the moment while we are drunk with wine and full of rice — my brother and I will go, and they will be taken at a touch.”
Tripitaka was very pleased. “Eight Rules has been diligent all this while!”
“If that is so,” said Pilgrim, “let brother Sha Monk guard the master, and we two will go.”
“Since the two elders will have no men and horses,” said the king, “will they have weapons?”
Eight Rules laughed. “Your weapons are no use to us. My brother and I have our own arms about us.”
When the king heard that he sent at once for a great goblet, to drink the two elders on their way. Sun the Great Sage said, “No more wine. Only have the Embroidered-Uniform Guard bring out the two small fiends. We will take them along to work through.”
The king gave the order, and they were brought out at once.
The two of them took hold of the two small fiends, mounted the head of the wind, worked a spell of transport, and went straight off to the south-east. Ah! Of them it may be said:
Prince and ministers, at one sight of them mounting the wind and mist,
knew at last that this master and his disciples were holy monks.
In the end it is not known how the taking went on this journey; listen to the next chapter, and it will be explained.