by Unknown
We tell you now about the princess, who had devised a clever plan. She ran out the front door and pushed her way through the vast throng of monsters. All she could hear was the jangle of weapons, for Eight Rules and Sha Monk were still doing battle in midair with that fiend. The princess shouted, “Lord Yellow Robe!” When the monster king heard the call of the princess, he abandoned Eight Rules and Sha Monk and dropped down from the clouds. Holding his scimitar with one hand, he took the hand of the princess with the other and said, “Mistress, what do you want?” “Husband,” said the princess, “I was sleeping just now within the silk curtains, and I saw in my dream a golden-armored deity.” “That golden-armored deity,” said the demon, “what does he want at my door?” The princess said, “During my youth when I was living in the palace, I made a secret vow that if I found a good husband, I would ascend the famous mountains, visit the immortal abodes, and feed the monks. Since I married you, ours had been such great happiness that I never had the opportunity to mention this to you. Just now that golden-armored deity came to demand that I fulfill my vow; he was shouting at me so vehemently that I woke up with a start. Even though it was all a dream, I made haste to come to tell you about it. Then I saw a monk all tied up on that pillar. I beg you, husband, to be compassionate for my sake and spare that monk. Just regard the matter as if it were my feeding the monks to redeem my vow. Are you willing?”
“Mistress,” said the fiend, “you’re so gullible! I thought it was something important! All right! If I wanted to eat humans, I can catch a few anywhere. This one monk, what does he amount to? I’ll let him go.” “Husband,” said the princess, “let him go out the back door.” The monster said, “What nuisance! Just let him go. Why bother about the back door or front door?” He gripped his steel scimitar and shouted, “You, Zhu Eight Rules! Come over here! I’m not afraid of you, but I won’t fight with you anymore; for the sake of my wife, I’m going to spare your master. Go quickly to our back door and find him so that you can leave for the West. If you ever trespass our territory again, I will not spare you.”
When Eight Rules and Sha Monk heard these words, they felt as if they had been released from the gate of Hell! Leading the horse and poling the luggage, they darted like rodents past the Current-Moon Cave. When they reached the back door, they cried, “Master!” The elder recognized their voices and answered from the thorny bushes. Sha Monk parted the grass and picked up his master, who mounted the horse hurriedly. So,
Almost harmed by the vicious blue-faced spirit,
He met by luck the zeal of Hundred Flowers’ Shame.
The scorpaenid has from the golden hook escaped:
He wags his head and tail to swim with the waves.
Eight Rules led the way in front while Sha Monk brought up the rear. They left the pine forest and proceeded on the main road. Look at the two of them! Still bickering and grumbling, they were trying to put the blame on each other, and Tripitaka had to spend all the time attempting to pacify them. At night they sought a place to rest; when the cock crowed they looked at the sky. Stage by stage, they soon traveled some two hundred and ninety-nine miles. When they raised their heads one day, they saw a beautiful city. It was the Precious Image Kingdom, a marvelous place indeed!
How boundless the clouds!
How vast the journey!
Though the land is a thousand miles away,
Its condition is no less prosperous.3
Auspicious mist and smoke surround it;
Bright moon and clear wind befriend it.
Green, towering distant mountains
Spread out like a painted scroll;
The flowing stream, surging and bubbling,
Throws up pieces of white jade.
Arable fields, joined by roadways and paths;
Worthy of food, dense sprouting rice crops;
Hooked by the fisherman, three winding brooks of a few households;
Gathered by the woodsman, one load of pepper-wood from two hills.
Each corridor and each rampart
Are made strong as if by metal and liquid;4
Every house and every home
Vies with one another in felicity.
Nine-tiered towers rise like palace halls;
Layered terraces soar like beacons.
There are also the Great Ultimate Hall,5
The Bright Cover Hall,
The Burn Incense Hall,
The Text-Viewing Hall,
The Policy-Proclaiming Hall,
And the Talent-Engaging Hall—
Every hall lined with jade threshold and gold steps,
With civil and military officials.
There are also the Great Light Palace,
The Bright Sun Palace,
The Long-Lasting Pleasure Palace,
The Bright Clear Palace,
The Memorial-Establishing Palace,
And the Never-Ending Palace—
Each palace, with its chimes, drums, pipes, and vertical flutes,
Releases its boudoir sorrows and springtime griefs.
There are in the forbidden courtyard
Young, fresh faces like flowers bedewed;
There are on the palace moat
Slender waists like willows dancing in the wind.
On the broad boulevard
There may be one who is capped and sashed,
Who, elaborately dressed,
Mounts a five-horse chariot.
At a secluded spot
There may be one holding bow and arrows
Who, pushing through fog and clouds,
Would pierce a pair of hawks.6
Alleys of flowers and willows;
Towers of pipes and strings:
Spring breeze here’s no lighter than at Luoyang Bridge!
Our scripture-seeking elder
Recalls the Tang court and his bowels almost burst;
Our disciples, flanking their master,
Rest in a post-house and lose their souls in dreams.
There was no end to the sight of such fine scenery at the Precious Image Kingdom. Master and disciples, the three of them, brought the luggage and the horse to a post-house and rested.
Afterwards, the Tang Monk walked to the gate of the court and said to the gate official, “A priest from the Tang court has arrived to seek an audience with the throne and to have my travel rescript certified. Please make this report for me.” The Custodian of the Yellow Gate hurried inside and went before the white jade steps to say, “Your Majesty, there is an illustrious monk from the Tang court, who wishes to have an audience with you in order to have his travel rescript certified.” When the king heard that an illustrious monk had arrived from such a great nation as the Tang, he was very pleased and consented at once. “Summon him to come in,” he said. When Tripitaka was summoned before the golden steps, he went through an elaborate court ceremony to pay homage to the ruler. None of the civil and military officials lining up on both sides of the court could refrain from saying, “Truly a man from a noble nation! What exquisite manners!” The king said, “Elder, why did you come to our Kingdom?” “This humble monk,” said Tripitaka, “is a Buddhist from the Tang court. I have received the decree of my emperor to go to acquire scriptures in the West. The travel rescript that I originally received should be certified once I arrive at the kingdom of Your Majesty. This is the reason why I dare intrude upon your Dragon Presence.” “If you have the rescript from the Tang Son of Heaven,” said the king, “bring it up here for me to look at.” Presenting it with both hands, Tripitaka placed the document on the imperial desk and unfolded it. The rescript says:
The travel rescript of the Tang Son of Heaven, who succeeds under the guidance of Heaven to the throne of the Great Tang Empire in the South Jambūdvīpa Continent. Though we humbly acknowledge our poor display of virtue, we are the lawful descendant of a great heritage. In the service to the gods and the government of men, we try to be vigilant night and day, as if we were approaching a deep abyss or walking on th
in ice. Some time ago, we failed to save the life of the Old Dragon of Jing River, for which we were chastised by the Most High August One. Our soul and spirit, drifting to the Region of Darkness, had already become a guest of impermanence. Because our allotted age was not yet exhausted, however, we were indebted to the Ruler of Darkness, who released us and returned us to life. Thereafter, we convened a grand mass and established the ritual field for the dead. It was at this time also that the One who saves from afflictions, the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin, revealed to us her golden form, and enlightened us with the knowledge that the West had both Buddha and scriptures, able to redeem the dead and deliver the orphaned spirits. For this reason we now commission Xuanzang, master of the law, to traverse a thousand mountains in order to acquire such scriptures. When he reaches the many nations of the West, it is our hope that they will not extinguish the goodly affinity and allow him to pass through because of this rescript. This is a necessary-to-be-sent document.7 An auspicious day in the autumn of the thirteenth year, in the Zhenguan period of the Great Tang. An imperial document. (There were also the marks of nine precious seals on it.)
When the king read it, he took the jade seal of his own nation and stamped it before handing it back to Tripitaka.
After he thanked the king and put away the travel rescript, Tripitaka said, “This humble priest came first of all to have the document certified, and secondly to present to Your Majesty a family letter.” Delighted, the king said, “What kind of family letter?” “Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka, “the third princess was kidnapped by the Yellow Robe Fiend of the Current-Moon Cave at the Casserole Mountain. This humble priest met her by chance and it was she who asked me to send you this letter.”
When the king heard this, his eyes brimmed with tears. “Thirteen years ago,” he said, “we lost our princess. For that, we banished countless officials, both civil and military, and we did not know how many ladies-in-waiting and eunuchs we had caned to death throughout the palace. For we thought that she had walked out of the palace and lost her way. Since we did not know where to look, we interrogated countless households in the city, but there was not a trace of her. How would we know that a monster had kidnapped her? When I receive this word today, I cannot hold back my grief or tears.” Thereupon Tripitaka took out the letter from his sleeve and presented it. When the king took it and saw the address on the envelope, his hands turned feeble and could not open the letter. He therefore gave the order to have the Grand Secretary of the Hanlin Academy8 come before the throne and read the letter. The Grand Secretary ascended the steps as all the civil and military officials before the court and all the imperial concubines and palace ladies behind the court listened attentively. Opening the letter, the Grand Secretary began to read:
The unfilial daughter, Hundred Flowers’ Shame, touches her head to the ground a hundred times before the Dragon-Phoenix Palace to honor Father King of the highest virtue. Long may he live! I bow also before the Bright Sun Palace to my Queen Mother, Queen of the Three Palaces, and to all worthy ministers, both civil and military, of the entire court. Ever since it was my good fortune to have been born into the queen’s palace, I have been indebted to you for the countless acts of grievous labor you undertook on my behalf. I regret that I have not done the utmost to please you, nor have I discharged with all my strength my filial duties. It was on the fifteenth day of the eighth month thirteen years ago that Father King, on that lovely evening and auspicious occasion, gave his gracious command for banquets to be be prepared in the several palaces so that we might enjoy the moonlight and celebrate the glorious Festival of Immaculate Heavens. During the moment of festivity, a sudden gust of fragrant wind9 brought forward a demon king with golden pupils, indigo face, and green hair who took hold of your daughter. Mounting the auspicious luminosity, he carried me away directly to an uninhabited region midway in the mountain and absolutely forbade me to leave. He exploited his fiendish power and forced me to become his wife; I had no alternative but to suffer such ignominy for these thirteen years. Two monster children were born to me, all seeds of this fiend. To speak of this, in fact, is to corrupt the great human relations and to pervert our morals. I should not, therefore, send you such an offensive and insulting letter, but I fear that there would be no explanation should your daughter pass away. As I was thinking of my parents with deep sorrow, I learned that a holy monk from the Tang court was also taken captive by the demon king. It was then that your daughter wrote this letter in tears and made bold to obtain release for the priest, so that he might deliver this small document as an expression of my heart. I beg Father King in his compassion to send his noble generals quickly to capture the Yellow Robe Fiend at the Current-Moon Cave of the Casserole Mountain and bring your daughter back to the court. Yours will be the deepest favor to me. Please pardon my disrespect in writing this letter in haste, and whatever has not been said I hope to tell you face to face. Your disobedient daughter, Hundred Flowers’ Shame, kowtows again and again.
When the Grand Secretary finished reading the letter, the king burst into loud wailing; all the three palaces shed tears and the various officials were also overborne by grief.
After the king had wept for a long time, he asked the two rows of civil and military officials, “Who dares lead the troops and captains to capture the monster for us and rescue our Hundred Flowers princess?” He asked the question several times, but there was not a single person courageous enough to respond. Like generals carved out of wood and ministers molded with clay, they all turned dumb! Sorely distressed, the king wept till tears streamed down his face, whereupon many officials prostrated themselves and memorialized, saying, “Your Majesty, we beseech you to desist from your sorrow. The princess was lost, and for thirteen years there had been no news from her. Although she met by chance the holy monk from the Tang court so that she was able to send us this letter, we are still not fully informed about her situation. Moreover, your subjects are merely mortal creatures. We have studied military manuals and tactics, of course, but our knowledge is limited to placing troops in formations and pitching camps in order to protect the frontiers of our nation from any invasion. The monster-spirit, however, is someone who comes by the fog and goes with the clouds. Unless we could meet him face to face, how could we attack him and rescue the princess? The scripture pilgrim from the Land of the East is, we believe, a holy monk from a noble nation. As a priest
Whose vast power tames dragons and tigers,
Whose great virtue awes demons and gods,
he must know the art of subduing monsters. As the proverb says,
He who comes and tells of some affair
Is himself involved in that affair.
Let us ask this elder to subdue the monster and rescue our princess; this is our safest policy.”
When the king heard these words, he turned quickly to Tripitaka and said, “Elder, if you have the ability to release your dharma power and catch the monster so that my child can return to the court, you need not go worship Buddha in the West. You can let your hair grow again, for we will become bond-brothers with you. You may sit on the dragon couch with us and enjoy our riches together. How about it?”
“This poor monk,” said Tripitaka hurriedly, “knows a little of chanting the name of Buddha, but truly he does not know how to subdue monsters.” “If you don’t,” said the king, “how dare you go seek Buddha in the Western Heaven?” No longer able to hide the truth, the elder had to mention his two disciples. “Your Majesty,” he said, “your poor monk would find it very difficult indeed to come here if he were all by himself. I have, however, two disciples, most capable of opening up a pathway in the mountains and building bridges when we come upon the rivers. They have accompanied me here.”
“You are an insensitive monk,” said the king, chiding him. “If you have disciples, why did you not bring them to see us also? When they enter my court, even if we had no intention to reward them, we could provide at least some food.” Tripitaka said, “The disciples of this poor
monk are rather ugly in their appearances, and they dare not enter the court without permission. For I fear that they might cause too great a shock to your Majesty.”
“Look at how this monk talks,” said the king with a laugh. “Do you think really that we’ll be afraid of them?” “It’s hard to tell,” said Tripitaka. “My elder disciple has the surname of Zhu, and his given names are Wuneng and Eight Rules. He has a long snout and fanglike teeth, tough bristles on the back of his head, and huge, fanlike ears. He is coarse and husky, and he causes even the wind to rise when he walks. My second disciple has the surname of Sha, and his religious names are Wujing and Monk. He is twelve feet tall and three span wide across his shoulders. His face is like indigo, his mouth, a butcher’s bowl; his eyes gleam and his teeth seem a row of nails. With looks like those, how could they dare enter the court without permission?” “Since you have now given them a thorough description,” said the king, “we wouldn’t be afraid of them. Summon them in.” He then gave the order that an invitation by a golden plaque should be sent at once to the post-house.
When Idiot saw the invitation, he said to Sha Monk, “Brother, you were saying previously that we should perhaps not deliver that letter. Now you can see what benefits delivering that letter can bring. It must be that after Master had delivered the letter, the king said that a messenger should not be lightly treated and insisted on giving a banquet for him. He has no stomach for that sort of thing, but at least he’s considerate toward the two of us by mentioning our names. That’s why a golden plaque has been sent to invite us. Let’s go and have a good meal then, and we can leave tomorrow.” “Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “we still don’t know the true reason for this. Let’s go and find out.” They therefore turned over the luggage and the horse to the care of the post-house master. Taking their weapons with them, they followed the golden plaque into court and went before the white jade steps. Standing on the left and on the right, they made one bow and then remained erect without moving again. Every member of those civil and military officials was deeply shaken. “These two monks,” they said, “are not only ugly, they are downright uncouth! How could they see our king and not prostrate themselves? After one bow, they just stand there and remain erect. It’s preposterous! It’s preposterous!” Eight Rules heard this and he said, “Don’t complain, all of you. That’s how we are! At first glance, we may appear ugly, but after awhile, you’ll get used to us.”