BAF 64 - Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat, page 28
part #64 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
“Were we on the great earth-road, a few li farther to the north, that might well be,” assented Ching-kwei; “but you forget that this unfrequented track leads only to our door. Furthermore, there is a certain peerless maiden, now wholly necessary to my very life, whom I must find.”
“In that case you had better stay at home; for if you are equally necessary to hers, be well assured that she will infallibly find you.”
“Customs have perhaps changed since the days of your own venerable youth, esteemed,” replied Ching-kwei tactfully. “Nor is the one whom I indicate to be computed by our earthen measure, inasmuch as she exists on the smell of flowers, wears a robe formed of floating light, and is fated to become a queen—whose king it is my destiny to slay. Her imposing father, being a merchant of the princely sort, has gone hence on business of the state and I would follow. Nothing delays my journey now but your ceremonial blessing.”
“May the concentrated blight of eighteen generations of concave-witted ancestors ride on your back!” exclaimed the one invoked. “Is she who cherished you in infancy to perish in her own old age like a toothless dog whose master’s house is closed? Where is this person’s future recompense for twenty years of disinterested care and self-denial if contending camps are now to swallow you?”
“What you have done is assuredly recorded in a golden book,” declared Ching-kwei with flattering conviction; “and for this the High Ones will one day reward you.”
“Doubtless,” replied the other adequately, “but not in the exact way that I should myself select. However, as was truly said when this person left her father’s palace, ‘Pity leads to love; love leads to madness.’ If it is to be, it will be, but first return with me for a purpose that I will inform you of.”
On this persuasion Ching-kwei accompanied her, and being now free of her dissuasion, stayed to partake of food. When this was finished, she led him to an inner room and there unlocked a box that had lain concealed beneath the floor. From this she took a complete suit of the finer sort together with a cloak richly trimmed with costly fur, a shield of polished steel inlaid with gold, and a lavishly embossed scabbard fitting to his sword. When these were arranged about his person, she drew five bars of silver from a secret place and, leading him to the door, put them into his hand.
“Go, son of my own son, and fittingly uphold the imperishable glory of our noble race!” was her parting word, and behind him Ching-kwei heard the hurried thrusting of the bolt.
That night Ching-kwei slept in a ruined temple, and at a little after noon on the following day, he stood once more before the strong stockade of Wang Tae’s fortress. He measured the width and depth of the ditch with an appraising eye and judged the stoutness of the palisade, deeming each one sufficient for its purpose. Then he examined the resources of the massive door and the tower protecting it and could find no weakness there. Afterward he beat upon the metal of the outer gate with a heavy stone and continued until a watchman appeared at the grille.
“Greeting to the valiant Wang Tae,” he called across the space. “Bear word to him that there stands one without who would’ disclose toward his private ear a weakness in the chain of his defence.”
“He sleeps upon that side; begone, O clown,” scoffed the keeper of the gate, seeing no profit to his own sleeve from the encounter (for Ching-kwei now carried what he had received wrapped in a skin and stood there as a meagre goatherd), and he turned away.
“Perchance a familiar sign may awaken him,” came back Ching-kwei’s retort, and with it his trustworthy staff winged past the menial’s head, carrying with it the lattice from the door. “Give him that message, brother.”
With gratifying promptitude, the door swung open, an ample beam was thrust over the gulf, and Wang Tae passed across. When that large-stomached person recognized Ching-kwei, most of the fury with which he had set out upon the enterprise melted from his expression, and finally he shook hands with himself cordially.
“Ching-kwei,” was his open-hearted welcome, “whether you are now come to claim tithe of the ill-assorted offsprings of that prince of profligacy you sought, or whether you are come to hazard for a throne, my roof is equally above you.”
“These things must take their proper turn,” was the discreet reply. “But first of all, Wang Tae, I would disclose to you a serious error in the scheme of your protection.”
“Some word of this affair has already reached my backward ears,” said the warrior. “Bring me to the point at which the danger lies.”
“Willingly,” replied Ching-kwei, and taking from the pack his sword he unsheathed it. “So long as there is a mightier one outside your walls than there is within, your security is menaced.”
’That is a matter which is very easily put right,” said Wang Tae, suffering his gravity to become very grossly removed at the well-planned jest. “Join the felicity of our commonplace circle, and the inference will manifestly be reversed.”
“Before I can do that it is necessary to see what sort of entertainment your hand provides,” declared Ching-kwei, fastening on his shield. “When last we met, you were somewhat lavish of receiving and sparse to give—perchance being a stranger then I kept you too much at a distance. Now we can mingle freely.”
“It is impossible to misunderstand the challenge of your two-edged meaning any longer,” said Wang Tae, taking up an appropriate poise and unsheathing also. “Your genial invitation warms me like the glow of very old wine. If only you are able to speak at all when I have done, nothing will be wanting to complete my happiness.”
The nature of Wang Tae’s appearance has already been described, so that it is only necessary to declare wherein he differed from it. His armour was more massive than before, being embossed on every plate with studs of shining brass, and in place of one sword of awe-inspiring size he now wore two. But his great height obscured all else, for having lately found his shortened limbs to thwart his reaching stroke he had contrived wooden pegs to replace the missing feet and these his domineering nature led him continually to lengthen until he towered above a world of dwarfs. When he spoke, his voice resembled a multitude of corncrakes, calling at variance.
“Should you have any preference for retaining a right or a left ear, speak before it is too late,” said Wang Tae as they engaged. “But do not plead for more than one.”
’Take both freely,” replied Ching-kwei, offering them in turn, “for so far nothing favourable to Wang Tae has come near either. First, however, let me correct your ill-balanced outlook,” and by a movement which the other person could never clearly understand he cut off at a single blow the lower part of one of Wang Tae’s props.
It has already been admitted that Wang Tae was an expert swordsman, and in an ordinary sense he was able to maintain his supremacy in a variety of attitudes, but the necessity of bending his mind to carry on the conflict with one side so materially lower than the other soon began to disturb the high level of his skill. Seeing this, Ching-kwei assumed a sympathetic voice.
“What ails the great Wang Tae that his blade no longer slices where his hand directs?” he said. “Take out your other sword, chieftain, and see if haply you can accomplish something more with two. Or beg a moment’s rest whereby to find your scanty breath. Or call one from your inner room to wipe the drip out of your smarting eyes. Or suck the juice up from a bitter fruit to ease your gasping throat. Or—”
“May the nine bronze tripods of Yu fall upon your pest-infected tongue!” exclaimed Wang Tae with concentrated feeling, and he made an incautious stroke that laid his defences bare.
“Plainly I took too much before and I must restore the balance,” remarked Ching-kwei and with a blow similar to the former one he cut through the other of Wang Tae’s supports. “Now that you are somewhat come down in the world, eminence, we can associate more on a level.”
At this fresh indignity Wang Tae cast away his sword and bent his neck in shame. Finding that it was not Ching-kwei’s intention to triumph over him, he recognized the justice of that one’s victory, and after embracing him affectionately he led him into the stronghold of his walls with every mark of ceremonious deference.
V
Wang Tae’s Just Tribute to the Prescience of Ah-Yew, and the
Conference of the Cedar Grove, Wherein Ching-kwei
Learned How Shen Che Was Scheming toward a Throne
That night there was a feast given in Ching-kwei’s honour, and at it he was the recipient of many flattering compliments, although it was not considered prudent by the more discreet to refer to the recent encounter within Wang Tae’s hearing. When they were all come together, Ching-kwei looked round.
“There are assembled here a hundred swords capable of putting me upon a throne,” he remarked, “but I have yet to hear one voice able to keep me there. Where is the far-seeing Ah-Yew, whose counsel is a better safeguard than a towered wall of seven heights?”
At this there was a sudden and profound silence, each man looking toward another who should speak. At last Wang Tae was forced to make reply.
“He had finished his ordinary work among us here and he has now Passed Above,” he said.
“When did this take place?” inquired Ching-kwei sadly.
“Yesterday, at such and such an hour,” they told him.
“If that is indeed the case, how can we gather here to feast together?” he demanded. “It would be more seemly to be eating dust rather than drinking wine. I, at any rate, will have no part in it,” and he began to rise.
“It is easier to judge than to administer justice,” replied Wang Tae, “and in this matter your exactitude is much at fault, Ching-kwei. Learn now how this has come about. Foreseeing your return and being desirous that no untimely omen should arise to mar its complete success, the one whom we all venerate laid a most strict injunction on our band that not even his own up-passing should be allowed to interfere with the rites of hospitality whenever you arrived. Thus, in feasting we are really exalting his decree above mere custom, and by rejoicing we mourn an irreparable loss.”
“This admittedly puts another face on the affair,” confessed Ching-kwei, permitting his cup to be refilled. “Yet it is aptly said, ‘When the tree has gone only then do we appreciate its shade,’ and before long the fierce rays of a retaliatory sun will certainly attempt to reach us.”
By most of those assembled, this speech was well received, but there was one present who in the past had been rebuked by Yew for the ordinariness of his character, and seeing now an opportunity to barb an insidious dart, he looked ingratiatingly toward their chief and spoke.
“So long as we have in Wang Tae a well-lined silk umbrella, the fiercest sun will shoot its beams in vain, nor is the reference to a defensive wall wholly to be praised. Ah-Yew was well enough in his proper sphere, but the present need requires a warrior’s voice, and this one has yet to learn that he who has been so servilely extolled had ever drawn a sword.”
Almost before he had finished speaking, a score were on their feet to express their indebtedness to Yew, but Wang Tae himself waved them all aside.
“When we who are here shall all have passed away and our swords have corroded into rust, our names will then be utterly forgotten,” he declared in a loud and compelling voice. “But to the end of time men will come together in moments of great stress and being perplexed will say, ‘In such a case thus and thus enjoined the clear-sighted Yew, the wily counsellor of the ancient days in the State of Tsun, and his advice was good.’ In that lies immortality.”
This testimony so pleased Ching-kwei that he rose up from his place, and taking Wang Tae by the elbow he exclaimed:
“It is one thing to reach behind your sword, Wang Tae, but I can never hope to get level with your supple tongue. Yet I would rather have said that about Ah-Yew than have found a ballast-load of topaz.”
“If you have felt it, what need of further speech, and why then should there be a rivalry between us?” replied Wang Tae, and from that time they were close in friendship. When the repast was over, Ching-kwei and Wang Tae walked together in the cool fragrance of a cedar grove, beneath the full radiance of the great white daughter of the sky, and the warrior freely then disclosed his plans.
“As yet,” he said, “it would be unwise for us to aim at the throne direct, for by doing so we should alienate the weak and doubtful without attracting to our incipient cause those who have wealth or authority to lose. Nor have we a walled city on our side in which to raise our banner and to give protection to a sufficient host. For this reason, it will not be prudent to declare you publicly just now, but before those whom we trust your sovereignty shall be maintained.”
“I regard you as the living symbol of the profound Ah-Yew,” replied Ching-kwei. “For that reason, I am wholly in your guiding hand.”
“I am not without hope that he will occasionally find time among his important duties elsewhere to return to counsel us. In the meanwhile, he left an explicit chart of how to act in every arising circumstance. For the next year, our course is one of wariness, sowing ferment like a flung mesh across the land and enrolling the dissentious to our cause, but moving ever with our faces to the ground. At the end of that period of repression, we must, by a single well-planned blow, seize and contain an influential town.”
“Where the Shay River bends far to the north and then bends south again, there lies the great walled city of Hing-foo, which once this person beheld,” remarked Ching-kwei. “Hing-foo is the target to which our arrow wings its devious flight. Thrust like the menace of a hostile elbow out into the plains, Hing-foo holds all the land south of the Shay and at the same time threatens irruption to the north. Already there are many worthy officials of the town who acknowledge our sign and give the countersign and when the time arrives the more intelligent of the defenders—after a few examples have been made—should have no difficulty in recognizing on which side virtue lies.”
“What follows next?”
“Turning over on his perfumed couch, the usurping Shang will languidly exclaim, Two armies to the south and stamp these contumacious beetles down into their native mire.’ Yung and Wen-yi will rally to the call and begin to enrol their forces to that end. Wen-yi is incompetent and old, Yung vigorous and a commander by no means to be despised.”
“If that is the case,” suggested Ching-kwei, “would it not be prudent, at the essential moment, to ignore the menace of Wen-yi’s advance, but, concentrating all our resources upon Yung, to offer him a sufficient price to turn the scale of his allegiance?”
“The arrangement has already reached completion, and the amount is fixed,” replied Wang Tae. “Yung will be delayed outside the Capital and suffer Wen-yi to proceed alone. This chance to achieve the greater glory to his single arm, and so discredit Yung, Wen-yi will greedily accept, and, regarding prudence less than speed, he will urge on his weary force beyond a judicious limit At a convenient obstruction in his path, our troops will bar the way, and, checking his advance, without permitting him to hazard a decision, will crush him between that agile wall and Yung’s arriving hosts…It is almost inevitable that Wen-yi will also discover the justice of our cause when he realizes his position, but it is difficult to see in what capacity we could make use of one so senile and inept.”
“Yet Tsun must have other leaders besides these and other armies ready to be led, nor can Shang dare to remain acquiescent in the face of defeat.”
“There are other leaders without stint and doubtless other armies can be raised, but to keep them from falling down again their sustenance must be assured, and here another force among the intersecting lines of destiny appears to play a tortuous part…In the seclusion of your native valley, has the rumour penetrated yet of the wonder of Shen Che—why do you pause?”
“I heard something that held me,” apologized Ching-kwei. “Pray continue.”
“A shout doubtless from the banquet hall; some still linger there. In any case, a reliant watch is kept.”
“It was nothing but a distant echo. You spoke of one-?”
“Shen Che, to whom the fashion of the day has given the name of Poising Butterfly, from the winged balance of her grace. Her life recalls a passage from the missing epics of T’ai Chang, traced on bamboo slips and strung on cords of silk. A year ago she cooked her father’s rice in a meagre hut set in a barren place—if haply there was any rice to cook, he being but an indifferent worker in some cruder staple. The household scattered by misfortune, Shen Che, together with her sister Mei, went forth into a larger sphere, and being seen dancing by an affluent merchant, she cast her spell so that he lavished the surplus of his gold upon her capriciousness. From the feet of the merchant Shen Che stepped into the yamen of a powerful mandarin, from the knees of the mandarin into the inner chamber of a high official, and from the shoulders of the functionary into the palace of the king. Now the whisper grows that Shang’s royal wife will shortly fall into an obscure decline and, being thus removed, that Shen Che will take her place.”
“She will then become a queen!” murmured Ching-kwei.
“She will become a queen, but in the end her influence will jeopardize the throne,” replied Wang Tae. “In her, all the attributes grow to a large excess, her matchless beauty being rivalled only by the resistless witching of her charm, and the sum of both equalled by the splendour of her wanton prodigality. Shang is besotted with desire, and beneath her scattering hand the hoarded wealth of Tsun is already gnawed by dogs. To chase a dark look from her face, a loyal counsellor will be disgraced to-day; to win a passing smile, ten thousand footsore men pressed to a futile task to-morrow. When that time of which we speak arrives, there will be nothing left to support another army on. Men may be procured by force, but the bare earth cannot be compelled to fructify by blows.”
VI
The Standard of the “Restoring Ying” Being Raised, Ching-kwei
