TUN-HUANG

by Yasushi Inoue

  Hsing-te went out and gathered together the camel men and set to work immediately. Three of the men were given the task of opening the crates and removing the scrolls and documents; the other seven were to carry them to the cave; and the three monks would remain in the cave and store them. Hsing-te had decided to have the crates opened because it was difficult to take the boxes through the small entrance, and also because it would require two men for each crate and this seemed inconvenient. In any case, it was essential to store away the goods as soon as possible.

  The crates were being opened one after the other. The camel men worked very roughly. Two men picked up a crate, raised it, and dashed it onto the ground. Or they hit the outside with poles or rocks until the crates cracked open. The scrolls and papers inside had all been wrapped into small parcels to avoid damage.

  The seven camel men made many trips bringing bundles of sutras to the secret cache. Hsing-te also joined in and helped. Some bundles were heavy, others light. There were small and large ones. Hsing-te and the men, carrying the bundles with both arms, trudged up the shifting, sandy hill, entered the stone cave, handed the bundles to the monks within and then returned. On the way, the men often brushed past others traveling in the opposite direction. No one spoke, and each occupied himself with his work as if this were his heaven-appointed task.

  When Hsing-te carried the scrolls and returned empty-handed, he walked with his eyes focused on his dark shadow that moved with him on the sand. Everyone walked slowly. Drowsiness constantly overcame the men. As slow as the progress was, however, there was a certain steadiness in their mechanical, continuous movement. A rough estimate of the number of Buddhist scrolls and documents was in the tens of thousands.

  If at all possible, Hsing-te wanted to complete the work before Kuang returned for the second time. If Kuang should arrive while the work was in progress and should learn what was being carried into the secret cache, he would be wild with rage. But Hsing-te had no time for such thoughts now. He decided that if it came to pass, he would handle the situation then.

  The mountainous pile of crates gradually dwindled and the pile of wood from the crates grew higher.

  The cave was finally filled with scrolls and papers. One of the three monks came out, then the second one appeared, and at the end, the oldest monk remained inside to complete the work.

  “All that’s left now is to seal up the entrance,” Hsing-te said. The three monks volunteered to take over the work.

  Hsing-te took from his pouch the scroll of the Heart Sutra he had copied and, groping in the dark, placed it in the cave on top of a bundle of sutras. There was now just a very small space left near the entrance of the cave, which was packed with wrapped bundles. As Hsing-te put down the scroll, he felt an emptiness within him, just as if he had cast something into the ocean. At the same time, he felt that what had been with him for years had suddenly been taken out and placed in a secure location. He felt settled again.

  One of the monks had brought several stakes from somewhere and had started to stand them up by the cave entrance. Hsing-te left the final plastering of the cave to the three monks and decided to return to the walled city for the moment.

  He left the stone caves and went to the open space where the goods had been piled. He found that the camel men had made a fire with the broken crates and were sleeping around it.

  Hsing-te vacillated for a moment trying to decide whether to return alone, or to take the men with him. In the end, he decided to have them accompany him. He thought that it might be dangerous to leave them with the monks, as these followers of Kuang might at any time murder them.

  As soon as he had awakened the camel drivers, Hsing-te ordered them to depart immediately. Since there was only one camel, Hsing-te rode it, and the camel tenders had to walk. At first the men objected, but they finally complied with his orders. They knew that they were engaged in work from which they would profit enormously, and also that the work had not yet been completed.

  By the time Hsing-te had returned to town, the sun was already high. He went to the headquarters at the North Gate only to find that, with the exception of the guards, all the men including the hare-lipped commander were sound asleep. Hsing-te had not slept for two nights in a row and was exhausted, but he forced himself to go to the square where Kuang was supposed to be. Naturally, neither Kuang nor even one of his men was in sight.

  Hsing-te left the ten camel drivers he had brought back in a civilian house to rest, while he proceeded directly to the palace with the camel. There was not even a single guard at the palace gate. In the open space just inside, Hsing-te saw numerous camels jostling, but he did not see Kuang or any other members of his caravan.

  The palace was empty. Hsing-te went directly to Yen-hui’s audience room. He stood at Yen-hui’s door, but it was quiet inside. Hsing-te thought that he was probably wasting his breath, but nevertheless he called, “Governor!”

  “Who’s that?” Yen-hui responded immediately.

  “So you’re still here!”

  “What is there for me to do but to remain here?”

  “What happened to the others?”

  “They all left for Qoco at dusk.”

  “What happened to all those goods?”

  He then heard Yen-hui break out in a strange laughter as if he were about to have a coughing fit. “The stupid fools! They packed up all their possessions, but when it was time to leave, not a single camel or camel driver was around. Those stupid fools!” Yen-hui broke out laughing again. “They finally took only a few personal belongings. Those stupid fools!”

  “Has Kuang come here?” Hsing-te inquired.

  “Kuang? That blackguard is in the inner chambers.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “How should I know?”

  Hsing-te left the doorway and walked down the corridor toward the inner chamber.

  “Kuang!” Hsing-te called out. As he walked, he called out Kuang’s name from time to time. After he had gone down several hallways he saw the inner courtyard, then a cluster of red flowers, and finally numerous men at work.

  When Hsing-te called out “Kuang!” a man quickly turned around and answered “Yes.” It was Kuang. As Hsing-te approached, he saw an enormous pile of wrapped bundles scattered around Kuang and his helpers. Some were ripped open, with their contents spilling out; some were halfopened; other unopened crates lay about in disorder.

  “What are you doing?” Hsing-te asked.

  “You can see for yourself. There is so much here that one or two hundred camels couldn’t possibly carry them.”

  Kuang was checking the contents of the crates that his helpers had opened; curtly he gave specific directions to his men to throw the goods away or to place them in the pile to be loaded. In his present activity, Kuang appeared to be full of energy. But at length the significance of Hsing-te’s presence dawned on him, and his expression suddenly hardened. He asked, “What did you do with the goods?”

  “They’ve all been stored away,” Hsing-te replied.

  “Good.” Kuang nodded, and apparently dismissed the problem and again became absorbed in his present urgent task. The job would be endless: the possessions of the Ts’ao family not only filled the inner courtyard and its surrounding corridors, but also another wing of the palace.

  For a while Hsing-te watched the men working. What useless things they packed, Kuang complained, as he pulled out a huge rug from a large crate. One of his helpers tugged at it. The rug was a splendid item that filled a large area of the courtyard.

  “Throw it out!” Kuang bellowed.

  Hsing-te left and returned once more to Yen-hui, who sat alone, leaning against one arm of his chair. He felt that he had come from an extremely avaricious, energetic man to a completely different type—an unworldly, apathetic individual.

  “Governor!” Hsing-te called out as he entered the chamber. “The fighting will start at any time now. How long do you intend to stay here?”

  “If it’s going to
start, it doesn’t matter to me when it starts. I’m staying right here.”

  “Don’t be so foolish. You must leave right away.”

  “Why do you want to take me out of here?”

  “Why? A human being should live as long as he can.”

  “Should live?” Yen-hui said this as though it were a strange notion. “Do you want to live? Those who want to live will probably live. Now that I think of it, if you’re trying to survive, I’ll give you this.” As he spoke, Yen-hui opened the door of a miniature shrine behind him and took out a scroll. “I’ll give this to you for safekeeping.”

  “What is it?” Hsing-te asked, as he accepted the heavy scroll.

  “It’s the family history of Regional Commander Ts’ao.”

  “And what should I do with it?”

  “Just keep it. I’ll leave the rest to you, since you plan to survive. It’s up to you to burn it or throw it out.”

  “If that’s the case, I might as well leave it here, mightn’t I?”

  “No, that would embarrass me. My brother gave it to me for safekeeping, and I am at a loss what to do with it. I’ll give it to you. I won’t be responsible for it any longer.”

  Yen-hui looked as though he had suddenly been relieved of a heavy responsibility and sank again into his seat. He didn’t give another glance at the scroll. Hsing-te felt that a burden had been thrust upon him and was annoyed. He was certain that Yen-hui would not take back the scroll, even if he tried to return it. Since there was nothing he could do, Hsing-te took the scroll and left the palace.

  When he returned to his room by his headquarters, he felt nothing mattered any more, and fell at once into bed and went to sleep. Some hours passed. Hsing-te was awakened by a messenger from Wang-li. He went to the door. The sun was high overhead. The sunlight and the silence of the surroundings seemed meaningless to him.

  The messenger’s report was simple and brief: “Hsien-shun has died in battle.” That was all. Hsing-te could get no further information from the man other than the fact that Wang-li’s own forces had not yet begun to fight.

  He went back to sleep. While he dozed, he had a dream. He was on the edge of a sandy hillock directly facing the setting sun. From there he had a panoramic view of the vast desert stretching out like the sea. All about, low sand hills rose and fell like triangular waves. The one on which Hsiug-te stood was the highest in the area. Looking down, he could see trees below, tiny in the distance, which was hard to estimate.

  He was not standing alone. For some time he had been watching Wang-li, who had been looking deeply into his eyes. In the setting sun, Wang-li’s face was a brilliant red; his eyes flashed as if they were on fire.

  Suddenly, Wang-li looked at Hsing-te tenderly and told him he had something he wanted to give him. He searched for the Uighur princess’s necklace. It appeared, however, that he had lost it during a fierce battle. “If I am so far gone that I have lost that necklace, then my days are numbered. At this rate, I don’t think I can get Yüan-hao’s head. I regret it very much, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Just then Hsing-te noticed several arrows were lodged in Wang-li. As he tried to pull them out, Wang-li ordered sternly, “Don’t pull them out!” Then he continued, “I have long thought of an end like this. Watch!” As he spoke, he pulled out his sword, and holding the blade with both hands, he began to push its tip into his mouth.

  “What are you doing?” The instant that Hsing-te shouted, Wang-li’s body danced up into the air, then fell headlong down to the bottom of the cliff.

  Hsing-te was awakened by his own voice. He didn’t know what he had shouted, but he was sure that he had cried out. His pulse was racing and he was perspiring. Just then Hsing-te heard an unusual commotion outside.

  He quickly opened the door. Many soldiers were carrying flaming bundles of dried rushes as they ran past the barracks. They were all shouting as if they had gone mad. One group after another passed by.

  Hsing-te ran to the unit headquarters. He saw the harelipped commander also shouting in front of it. He couldn’t tell where the men with their flaming bundles had come from, but they arrived in successive waves at the headquarters and dispersed from there.

  “What’s going on?” Hsing-te went to ask the commander, who opened his mouth wide and grinned—that mouth was gruesome even under normal circumstances. He replied indistinctly, “We’re going to burn the city … the city”

  “Where is Wang-li?” Hsing-te felt strangely anxious as he asked this.

  “Our commander has died in battle. That report has just come in. Burn the city. After that everyone can flee.”

  The hare-lipped warrior was so agitated that he would not listen to anything Hsing-te said. He waved his arms about excitedly and continued shouting at the soldiers. “Light the fires! Burn the city!”

  Hsing-te thought that he might somehow be able to see the battle, so he ascended the ramparts. But he could see nothing from there. The plain, which was about to absorb the setting sun, was still. But when he strained his ears, he could hear sounds resembling war cries somewhere at a great distance. These sounds were distinct from the confusion reigning within the city. When he looked back into the garrison, he saw smoke rising from many spots all over the city.

  The fires were probably blazing strongly, but it was hard to tell in the daytime. Minute by minute black smoke began to gather over Sha-chou.

  As Hsing-te descended, he felt there was nothing left for him to do in this world. From the moment he had heard of Wang-li’s death, it seemed he had lost the mainstay of his life. If the elderly commander had lived, he would want to live, too, but since he had died, Hsing-te no longer felt that life was worthwhile, or of any interest. By the time he reached ground level, the fire inside the city had gained intensity and the sound of burning echoed throughout.

  Hsing-te went to the North Gate and sat down on a stone. There was no longer anyone in sight. The shouting, harelipped commander was gone, as were the rest of the soldiers. However, Hsing-te perceived the figure of a military commander as clearly as if the man were actually there. It was the image of Wang-li, who had thrust his sword into his mouth and jumped off the cliff. He had fought himself to exhaustion, his sword had broken, his arrows were gone, he had been sapped of all energy and at the end had probably died like that. There was no other way open to him but to take his own life.

  For a while Hsing-te sat there. Hot gusts of wind suddenly blew into his face and brought him back to his senses. The fire had brought on the wind, for there had been none a short time before. Smoke rolled along the ground toward Hsing-te. He suddenly noticed a man staggering awkwardly out of the smoke toward him.

  “Kuang.” Involuntarily, he called out and stood up. Then Hsing-te saw some camels, partially enveloped by the smoke, slowly emerging from behind Kuang.

  As he came up to Hsing-te, Kuang said, “They did a foolish thing that wasted our day’s work. What stupidity to set fire to the place before the enemy arrives. Those bastards!”

  Saying this, he looked spitefully at Hsing-te, as though he were placing the whole responsibility of setting the city afire on him. Then he shouted at Hsing-te, “I have some more business with you. Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “What do you mean, where are we going? Do you plan to stay here? Would you rather roast to death?”

  Kuang preceded Hsing-te through the gate. Just outside, he counted the twenty-odd camels which had followed him. Then, pointing with his chin to one of the animals, he ordered Hsing-te to mount.

  Hsing-te did as he was told. Actually, he had no place to go. Had Wang-li still been alive, he would have wanted to go to the front, but with Wang-li gone, he no longer held this desire nor cared to join his own forces, which were almost certainly retreating.

  Outside the gate, the war cries sounded closer than they had a short time ago. They seemed to be coming from both east and west.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To
the Thousand Buddha Caves. The goods last night were stored away, weren’t they? If you’ve tried to pull something on me, you won’t get away with it. All the trouble we took on that big job was wasted. Now all I can count on are the valuables we stored last night.”

  Kuang continued complaining to himself. Hsing-te thought that he would also like to go to the Thousand Buddha Caves. Although he had left everything in the hands of the three monks, he still felt that he would like to make sure how things were. The monks had begun sealing the secret cache, and he thought the work should have been finished by this time, uneven and rough though it may be. If it wasn’t and Kuang learnt of the deception, all hell would break loose.

  The two men did not speak until after they had crossed the frozen Tang River and reached the desert. There, in the distant south, was a group of twenty or thirty men, who appeared to be soldiers in retreat, heading westward. Later, they saw several similar groups, one after another. They were all in the south, traveling west. From time to time the wind brought the sound of war cries to their ears.

  “Hsing-te!”

  Kuang suddenly brought his camel up short and called to Hsing-te. There was something ominous in his expression, and Hsing-te instinctively drew back. But Kuang brought his camel right alongside Hsing-te’s and would not allow Hsing-te to retreat any further.

  “What did you do with the necklace? Did you store it in the cache?”

  Since Hsing-te remained silent, Kuang continued. “You still have it, don’t you? Give it to me. Don’t be so stubborn. You can’t do anything with it. It’s different now from normal times. Sha-chou has burned, and the Ts’ao dynasty has fallen. Do you know what tomorrow will bring? Even tonight the large Hsi-hsia army may invade this whole area. If we stay around, we’ll probably either starve or be killed.”

  When he heard the word “starve,” Hsing-te suddenly realized that he was hungry. He had taken some tasteless food at the unit headquarters that morning, but had had nothing since.