Romance of the Three Kingdoms II (26 page)

That night Ts'ao Ts'ao became worse. As he lay on his couch he felt dizzy and could not see, so he rose and sat by a table, upon which he leaned. It seemed to him that someone shrieked, and peering into the darkness, he perceived the forms of many of his victims. And all were bloodstained. They stood in the obscurity and whispered, demanding his life. He rose, lifted his sword and threw it wildly into the air. Just then there was a loud crash, and the southwest corner of the new building came down. And Ts'ao Ts'ao fell with it. His attendants raised him and bore him to another palace, where he might lie at peace.

But he found no peace. The next night was disturbed by the ceaseless wailing of women's voices. When day dawned, Ts'ao sent for his officers, and said to them:

"Thirty years have I spent in the turmoil of war and have always refused belief in the supernatural. But what does all this mean?"

"O Prince, you should summon the Taoists to offer sacrifices and prayers," said they.

Ts'ao Ts'ao sighed. "The wise man said, 'He who offends against heaven has no one to pray to.' I feel that my fate is accomplished, my days have run and there is no help."

But he would not consent to call in the priests. Next day his symptoms were worse. He was panting and could no longer see distinctly. He sent hastily for Tun, who came at once. But as he drew near the doors he too saw the shadowy forms of the slain Empress and her children and many other victims of Ts'ao Ts'ao's cruelty. He was overcome with fear and fell to the ground. The servants raised him and led him away, very ill.

Then Ts'ao called in four of his trusty advisers, Ts'ao Hung, Ch'en Ch'un Chia Hsu and Ssuma I, that they might hear his last wishes. Ts'ao Hung, speaking for the four, said, "Take good care of your precious self, O Prince, that you may quickly recover."

But Ts'ao Ts'ao said, "Thirty and more years have I gone up and down, and many a bold man has fallen before me. The only ones that remain are Sun Ch'uan and Liu Pei. I have not yet slain them. Now I am very ill, and I shall never again stand before you; wherefore my family affairs must be settled. My first born fell in battle, when he was young. The Lady P'ien bore four sons to me, as you know. The third, Chih, was my favourite, but he was vain and unreliable, fond of wine and lax in morals. Therefore he is not my heir. My second son, Chang, is valiant, but imprudent. The fourth is weakly and may not live long. My eldest, P'ei, is steady and serious; he is fit to succeed me, and I look to you to support him."

Ts'ao Hung and the others wept as they heard these words, and they left the chamber. Then Ts'ao Ts'ao bade his servants bring some of the Tibetan incense that he burned every day, and he handed out sticks to his handmaids. And he said to them, "After my death you must diligently attend to your womanly labours. You can make silken shoes for sale, and so earn your own living."

He also bade them go on living in the Bronze Bird Pavilion and celebrate a daily sacrifice for him, with music by the singing women, and presentation of the eatables laid before his tablet.

Next he commanded that seventy-two sites for a tomb should be selected near Wuch'eng in the Changte Prefecture, that no one should know his actual burying place, lest his remains should be digged up.

And when these final orders had been given he sighed a few times, shed some tears and died. He was sixty-six, and passed away in the first month of the twenty-fifth year (210
A.D.).

A certain poet composed a song on Yehch'eng expressing sympathy for Ts'ao Ts'ao, which is given here:—

I stood in Yeh and saw the River Change
Co gliding by. Methought no common man
E'er rose from such a place.
Or he was great In war, a poet, or an artist skilled.
      Perchance a model minister, or son,
Or famous for fraternal duty shown.
The thoughts of heroes are not ours to judge,
Nor are their actions for our eyes to see.
A man may stand the first in merit; then
His crimes may brand him chief of criminals.
And so his reputation's fair and foul;
His literary gifts may bear the mark
Of genius; he may be a ruler born;
But this is certain, he will stand above
His fellows, herding not with common men.
Takes he the field, then is he bold in fight;
Would he a mansion build, a palace springs.
In all things great, his genius masters him.
And such was Ts'ao Ts'ao. He could never be
Obedient, he a rebel was, foredoomed.
He seized and ruled, but hungered for more power;
Became a prince, and still was not content.
      And yet this man of glorious career
When gripped by sickness, wept as might a child.
Full well he knew, when on the bed of death,
That all is vanity and nothing worth.
His latest acts were kindly. Simple gifts
Of fragrant incense gave he to the maids.
Ah me!
      The ancients' splendid deeds or secret thoughts
We may not measure with our puny rule.
But criticise them, pedants, as ye may
The mighty dead will smile at what you say.

As Ts'ao Ts'ao breathed his last the whole of those present raised a great wailing and lamentation. The news was sent to the members of the family, the heir, Ts'ao Pei, the Marquis of Yenling, Ts'ao Chang, the Marquis of Lintzu, Ts'ao Chih, and the Marquis of Hsiaohuai, Ts'ao Hsiung. They wrapped the body in its shroud, enclosed it in a silver shell and laid it in a golden coffin, which was sent at once home to Yehchun.

The eldest son wept aloud at the tidings and went out with all his following to meet the procession and escort the body of his father into his home. The coffin was laid in a great hall beside the main building, and all the officials in deep mourning wailed in the hall.

Suddenly one stood out from the ranks of the mourners and said, "I would request the heir to cease lamentation for the dead and devote himself to the present needs of state."

It was Ssuma Fu, and he continued, "The death of the prince will cause an upheaval in the empire, and it is essential that the heir should assume his dignity without loss of time. There is not mourning alone to be seen to."

The others replied. "The succession is settled, but the investiture can hardly proceed without the necessary edict. That must be secured."

Said Ch'en Chiao, who was President of the Board of War, "As the prince died away from home it may be that his favourite son will presume to succeed, and dangerous disputes will ensue."

He slashed off the sleeves of his robe with a sword and shouted fiercely, "We will invest the prince forthwith, and any who do not agree let him be treated as this robe."

Still fear held most of the assembly. Then arrived Hua Hsin post haste from the capital. They wondered what his sudden arrival meant. Soon he entered the hall and said, "The Prince of Wei is dead and the world is in commotion; why do you not invest his successor quickly?"

"We await the command," cried they in chorus, "and also the princess-consort's order concerning the heirship."

"I have procured the Imperial edict here," cried he, pulling it out from his breast.

They all began to congratulate him. And he read the edict.

Hua Hsin had always been devoted to Wei, and so he drafted this edict and got it sealed by the Emperor Hsien almost by force. However, there it was; and therein Ts'ao P'ei was named as "Prince of Wei, First Minister of State and Governor of Ichou."

Ts'ao P'ei thereupon took his seat in the princely place and received the congratulations of all the officers. This was followed by a banquet.

However, all was not to pass too smoothly. While the banquet was in progress the news came that Ts'ao Chang, with an army of ten legions, was approaching.

In a state of consternation the new prince turned to his courtiers, saying "What shall I do? This young brother of mine, always obstinate and determined and with no little military skill, is marching hither with an army to contest my inheritance."

"Let me go to see the marquis; I can make him desist," said one of the guests.

The others cried, "Only yourself, O Exalted One, can save us in this peril!"

Quarrel 'tween two sons of Ts'ao
Just as in the House of Shao.

If you would know who proposed himself as envoy, read the next chapter.

CHAPTER LXXIX
A CRUEL BROTHER:
A POEM: AN UNDUTIFUL NEPHEW:
PUNISHMENT

A
eyes
turned toward the speaker, the high officer of state Chia K'uei, and the young prince commanded him to undertake the mission. So he went out of the city and sought to speak with Ts'ao Chang. Ts'ao Chang came quickly to the point.

"Who has the late prince's seal?" asked he.

Chia K'uei replied calmly, "There is an eldest son to a house, and an heir-apparent to a state. Such a question from you is unbecoming, O Marquis."

The marquis held his peace, and the two proceeded into the city to the gates of the palace. There Chia K'uei suddenly asked him whether he came as a mourner or as a rival claimant.

"I am come as a mourner; I never had any ulterior motive."

"That being so, why bring in your soldiers?"

Whereupon Ts'ao Chang ordered his escort to retire, and entered the city alone. When the brothers met they fell into each other's arms and wept. Then the younger brother yielded command of all his following, and he was directed to go back to Yenling and guard it. He obediently withdrew.

Ts'ao P'ei, being now firmly established, changed the name of the period of his rule to
Yen-K'ang,
"Prolonged Repose." He gave high rank to Chia Hsu, Hua Hsin and Wang Lang, and made many promotions. To the late prince he gave the posthumous title of
Wu
Wang, "Prince of War," and buried him in Kaoling. To the superintendence of the building of his tomb he nominated Yu Chin, but with malevolent intent. For when Yu Chin reached his post he found the walls of the rooms decorated with chalk sketches depicting the drowning of his army and the capture of himself by Kuan Yu. Kuan Yu was looking very dignified and severe. P'ang Te was refusing to bow to the victor, while he himself was lying in the dust pleading for his life.

Ts'ao P'ei had chosen this method of putting Yu to open shame because he had not preferred death to the dishonour of capture, and had sent an artist on purpose to depict the shameful scenes. When Yu Chin saw them, shame and rage alternately took possession of him till he fell ill. Soon after he died.

War waged he for many a year,
Yet fell prey to craven fear.
None can know another's heart,
Drawing tigers, with bones start.

Soon after the accession, Hua Hsin memorialised, saying, "The Marquis of Yenling has cut himself loose from his army and gone quietly to his post, but your other two brothers did not attend the funeral of their father. Their conduct should be enquired into and punished."

Ts'ao P'ei took up the suggestion and sent a commissioner to each. He who was sent to the younger quickly returned to say that the Marquis of Hsiaohuai had committed suicide rather than suffer for his fault. P'ei ordered honourable burial for him and gave him the posthumous title of "Prince."

Soon after, the envoy to Lintzu returned to report that the marquis was spending his time in dissipation, his especial boon companions being two brothers named Ting. They had been very rude. When the envoy had presented himself, the marquis had sat bolt upright, but would not say a word. Ting I had used insulting words.

"The late prince intended our lord to succeed, but was turned therefrom by the slanderous tongues of certain among you. As soon as he is dead your master begins to think of punishment for his own flesh and blood."

The other brother said, "In intellect our lord leads the age, and he ought to have been heir to his father. Now, not only does he not succeed, but he is treated in this harsh way by a lot of court persons of your sort, ignorant of what genius means."

And then the marquis, in a fit of anger, had ordered his lictors to beat the envoy and turn him out.

This treatment of his messenger annoyed Ts'ao P'ei greatly, and he despatched a force under Hsu Chu to arrest his brother and all his immediate surroundings. When Hsu Chu arrived he found the marquis and all his companions dead drunk, so he bound them, put them into carts and sent them to court. He also arrested all the officers of the palace.

Ts'ao P'ei's first order was to put to death the two brothers Ting. The two brothers were not wholly base; they had a reputation for learning, and many were sorry for them.

Ts'ao P'ei's mother, the Lady P'ien, was alarmed at the severity of the new rule, and the suicide of her youngest son wounded her deeply. When she heard that Ts'ao Chih had been arrested and his comrades put to death, she left her palace and went to see her eldest son. As soon as he saw her, the prince hastened to meet her. She began to weep.

Your brother has always had that weakness for wine, but we let him go his way out of consideration for his undoubted ability. I hope you will not forget he is your brother and that I bore you both. Spare his life that I may close my eyes in peace when I set out for the deep springs."

"I also admire his ability, mother, and have no intention to hurt him. But I would reform him. Have no anxiety as to his fate."

So the mother was comforted and withdrew. The prince then went to a private room and bade them call his brother.

Said Hua Hsin, "Surely the princess-mother has just been interceding for your brother, is it not so?"

"It is so," replied the prince.

"Then let me say that he is too clever to be content to remain in a humble station. If you do not remove him he will do you harm."

"
I
must obey my mother's command."

"People say your brother simply talks in literature. I do not believe it myself, but he might be put to the test. If he bears a false reputation you can slay him; if what they say is true, then degrade him, lest the scholars of the land should babble."

Soon Ts'ao Chih came, and in a state of great trepidation bowed low before his elder brother, confessing his fault.

The prince addressed him, saying, "Though we are brothers, yet the proper relation between us of prince and minister must not be overlooked. Why then did you behave indecorously? While the late prince lived you made a boast of your literary powers, but I am disposed to think you may have made use of another's pen. Now I require you to compose a poem within the time taken to walk seven paces, and I will spare your life if you succeed. If you fail, then I shall punish you with rigour."

"Will you suggest a theme?" asked Chih.

Now there was hanging in the hall a black and white sketch of two bulls that had been fighting at the foot of a wall, and one of them had just fallen dead into a well. Ts'ao P'ei pointed to the sketch and said, "Take that as the subject. But you are forbidden to use the words 'two bulls, one bull, fighting, wall's foot, falling, well and dead.'"

Ts'ao Chih took seven paces and then recited this poem:—

Two butcher's victims lowing walked along,
Each head bore curving bones, a sturdy pair,

They met just by a hillock, both were strong,
Each would avoid a pit new digged there.

They fought unequal battle, for at length
One lay below a gory mass, inert.'

'Twas not that they were of unequal strength—
Though wrathful both, one did not strength exert.

This exhibition of skill amazed the prince and the whole court. Ts'ao P'ei thought he would use another test, so he bade his brother improvise on the theme of their fraternal relationship; the words "brotherhood" or "brother" being barred. Without seeming to reflect, Ts'ao Chih rattled off this rhyme:—

They were boiling beans on a beanstalk fire;
Came a plaintive voice from the pot,

"O why, since we sprang from the selfsame root,
Should you kill me with anger hot?"

The allusion in these verses to the cruel treatment of one member of a family by another was not lost upon Ts'ao P'ei and he dropped a few silent tears.

The mother of both men came out at this moment from her abiding place and said, "Should the elder brother thus oppress the younger?"

The prince jumped from his seat, saying, "My mother, the laws of the state cannot be nullified."

Ts'ao Chih was degraded to the rank of "Marquis of Anhsiang." He accepted the decision without a murmur and at once left his brother's court.

Ts'ao P'ei's accession was the signal for a set of new laws and new commands. His behaviour toward the Emperor was more intemperate than his father's had ever been.

The stories of his harshness reached Ch'engtu and almost frightened Liu Pei, who summoned his counsellors to discuss what he should do.

Said he, "Since the death of Ts'ao Ts'ao and the accession of his son the position of the Emperor has changed for the worse. Sun Ch'uan acknowledges the lordship of Wei, and its influence is becoming too great. I am disposed to destroy Sun Ch'uan in revenge for the death of my brother. That done, I will proceed to the capital and its district and purge the whole land of rebellion. What think you?"

Then Liao Hua stood out from the ranks of officers and threw himself upon the earth, saying with tears, "Liu Feng and Meng Ta were the true cause of the death of your brother and his adopted son; both these renegades deserve death."

Yuan-te was of the same opinion and was going to send and arrest them forthwith, but here K'ung-ming intervened and gave wiser advice.

"That is not the way, go slowly or you may stir up strife. Promote these two and separate them. After that you may arrest."

The prince saw the prudence of this procedure and stayed his hand. He raised Liu Feng to the Prefectship of Mienchu, and so separated the two delinquents.

Now P'eng Yang and Meng Ta were old friends. Hearing what was afoot, the former hastened home and wrote warning his friend. The letter was confided to a trusty messenger to bear to Meng Ta. The messenger was caught as he went out of the city and carried before Ma Ch'ao, who thus got wind of the business. He then went to Peng's house, where, nothing being suspected, he was received kindly and wine was brought in. The two drank for some time. When Ma Ch'ao thought his host sufficiently off his guard, he said, "The Prince of HanChung used to look on you with great favour; why does he do so no longer?"

The host began to rave against his master.

"The obstinate old leather-belly! But I will find some way to pay him out."

In order to see to what lengths he would go, Ma Ch'ao led him on, saying, "Truth to tell, I have long hated the man too."

"Then you join Meng Ta and attack, while I will win over the Hsich'uan men. That will make it easy enough," said P'eng Yang.

"What you propose is very feasible, but we will talk it over again tomorrow," said Ma Ch'ao, and took leave.

Taking with him the captured man and the letter he carried, he then proceeded to see the prince, to whom he related the whole story. Yuan-te was very angry and at once had the intended traitor arrested and put in prison, where he was examined under torture to get at full details.

While P'eng Yang lay in prison, bitterly but vainly repentant, Yuan-te consulted his adviser.

"That fellow P'eng meant to turn traitor: what shall I do with him?"

"The fellow is something of a scholar, but irresponsible," replied K'ung-ming. "He is too dangerous to be left alive."

Thereupon orders were given that he should be put to death in gaol. The news that he had been made away with frightened his sympathiser and friend, Meng Ta, and put him in a quandary. What had he better do? On the top of this, Liu Feng's promotion and transfer to Mienchu arrived, and frightened him still more. So he sought advice from two friends, brothers, who lived in Shangyung.

"My friend Fa Cheng and I did much for the prince. But now Fa is dead and I am forgotten. More than that, he wishes to put me to death. What can I do?" said Meng.

Shen Tan, one of the two, replied, "I think I can find a plan that will secure your safety."

"What is it?" asked Meng Ta, feeling happier.

"Desertion. My brother I and I have long desired to go over to Wei. You just write the prince a memorial resigning your service and betake yourself to the Prince of Wei, who will certainly employ you in some honourable way. Then we two will follow."

Meng Ta saw that this was his best course, so he wrote a memorandum, which he gave to the messenger who had brought the recent despatches to take back with him. That night he left his post and went to Wei.

The messenger returned to Ch'engtu, handed in Meng Ta's memorial and told the story of his desertion. The king was angry. He tore open the letter and read:—

"In the humble opinion of thy servant, O Prince, you have set out to accomplish a task comparable with that of I Yin and Lu Shang, and to walk in the meritorious footsteps of Huan Kung and Wen Kung. When the great design was rough-hewn you had the support of Wu and Ch'u, wherefore many men of ability incontinently joined you. Since I entered your service I have committed many faults; and if I recognise them, how much more do you see them! Now, O Prince, you are surrounded by famous men, while I, useless as a helper at home and inept as a leader abroad, should be shamed were I to take a place among them.

"It is well known that when Fan Li saw certain eventualities he went sailing on the lakes, and Chiu Fan acknowledged his faults and stayed by the river. Inasmuch as one cannot take means of safeguarding one's self at the critical and dangerous moment, I desire—as is my duty—to go away as I came, untainted. Moreover, I am stupid and without use or merit, merely born in these days as the sport of circumstances. In the days of old, Shen Sheng, though perfectly filial, incurred the suspicions of his father and died, Tzu-hsu (Wu Yuan), though perfectly loyal, was put to death. Meng Tien, though he extended the borders, suffered the extreme penalty; and Yueh I, though he destroyed the might of Ch'i, was the victim of calumny. Whenever I have read of these men I have been moved to tears, and now I am in like case and the more mortified. Lately Chingchou was overwhelmed and many officers of rank failed in their duty, not one in a hundred behaving as he should. Only I remained in Fangling and Shangyung and sought service abroad. Now I desire you, O Prince, graciously to understand, to sympathise with thy servant and to condone the step he is about to take. Really I am but a mean man, incapable of great deeds. I know what I am doing, and I dare to say it is no fault. They say that dissolution of bonds should not occasion recrimination and the dismissed servant should take leave without heartburnings. I have taken your orders many times, and now, O Prince, you must act yourself. I write this with extreme trepidation."