Journey to the West (vol. 3)

by Wu Cheng-En

  “Idiot,” shouted Monkey, going up to him, “that's no ghost. It's the master himself.”

  When Friar Sand looked up and saw who it was he fell to his knees in front of Sanzang and said “Master, you've suffered terribly. How did big brother rescue you?” Monkey then told them everything that had happened.

  When Pig heard all this he gnashed his teeth, unable to restrain himself from knocking the tomb mound over with one blow of his rake, digging out the head and smashing it to pulp “Why are you hitting it?” the Tang Priest asked.

  “Master,” said Pig, “goodness only knows what kind of wretch he was, but we all mourned for him.”

  “It was thanks to him that I'm still alive,” Sanzang replied. “When you disciples attacked their gates and demanded me they took him out to fob you off with. Otherwise they would have killed me. I think we should bury him properly as a mark of our monastic respect.” When the idiot heard his master saying this he buried that bag of flesh and bone that had been beaten to a pulp and piled up a tomb mound over it.

  “Master,” said Brother Monkey with a smile, “won't you sit here for a while while I go to wipe them out?” With that he leapt down the cliff, crossed the ravine, went into the cave and took the ropes with which the Tang Priest and the woodcutter had been hound into the hall, where he used them to truss together the arms and legs of the demon king, who was still asleep. He then lifted the demon up with his cudgel onto his shoulder and took him out by the back door.

  “You like making things difficult for yourself, brother,” said Pig when he saw him coming from a distance. “Why don't you find another to balance him?”

  Monkey then set the demon king down in front of Pig, who raised his rake and was just about to hit him when Monkey said, “Wait a moment. We haven't captured the junior devils in the cave yet.”

  “If there are any left,” Pig said, “take me in with you to smash them.”

  “Smashing them would be too much trouble,” Monkey replied. “The best thing would be to find some firewood and wipe them out that way.”

  When the woodcutter heard this he led Pig to a hollow to the East to find some broken ends of bamboo, pines that had lost their needles, hollow stumps of willows, creepers broken off from their roots, withered artemisia, old reeds, rushes and dead mulberry. They carried a lot of this into the back entrance, where Monkey set it alight and Pig fanned the flames with both ears. Then the Great Sage sprang up, shook himself and put the sleep-insect hairs back on his body. When the junior devils woke up they were all already on fire. Poor things! None of them had the faintest chance of surviving. When the whole cave was burnt right out the disciples went back to see the master.

  When Sanzang saw that the senior demon had woken up and was shouting he called, “Disciples, the evil spirit has come round.” Pig went up and killed him with one blow of his rake, whereupon the ogre turned back into his real form as a leopard spirit with a coat patterned like mugwort flowers.

  “Leopards with flower-patterned coats can eat tigers,” Monkey observed, “and this one could turn into a human too. Killing him has prevented a lot of serious trouble in future.” The venerable elder could not express his gratitude strongly enough, and he then mounted the saddle. “My home isn't far from here to the Southwest, sirs,” said the woodcutter. “I invite you to come there to meet my mother and accept my kowtows of thanks for saving my life. Then I'll see you gentlemen along your way.”

  Sanzang was happy to accept, and instead of riding he walked there with his three disciples and the woodcutter. After they had followed a winding path to the Southwest for a short distance this is what they saw.

  Lichen growing across a stone-flagged path,

  Wisteria joining across the wicker gate,

  Chains of mountains on every side, And a wood full of singing birds.

  A dense thicket of pine and bamboo,

  Rare and wonderful flowers in profusion.

  The place is remote and deep amid the clouds,

  A thatched cottage with a bamboo fence.

  While they were still some distance away they could make out an old woman leaning on the wicker gate with tears streaming from her eyes, weeping and calling to heaven and earth for her son.

  As soon as the woodcutter saw his mother he left the Tang Priest behind as he rushed straight to the gate, knelt down and said, “Mother, I'm back.”

  Throwing her arms around him the woman said, “My boy, when you didn't come home for days on end I thought the mountain lord must have caught you and killed you. I've suffered terrible heartache. If you weren't killed why didn't you come back before? Where are your carrying-pole, ropes and axe?”

  The woodcutter kowtowed as he replied, “Mother, the mountain lord did capture me and tie me to a tree. I was lucky to escape with my life, thanks to these gentlemen. They are arhats sent by the Tang court in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven. This gentleman was captured by the mountain lord and tied to a tree as well. His three disciples have enormous magic powers. They killed the mountain lord with a single blow: he was a leopard with mugwort flower spots who had become a spirit. They burnt all the junior devils to death, untied the senior gentleman and then untied me too. I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude: but for them your son would certainly be dead. Now that the mountain is completely safe I'll be able to walk around at night without any danger.”

  After hearing this the old woman came forward to greet Sanzang and his disciples, kowtowing at every step. Then she led them in through the wicker gate to sit down in the thatched cottage. Mother and son next performed endless kowtows as expressions of their gratitude before hastily and in a fluster preparing them some vegetarian food as a mark of their thanks.

  “Brother,” said Pig to the woodcutter, “I know you're hard up here. Just put something simple together for us. Don't go to a lot of trouble and effort.”

  “Quite frankly, sir,” the woodcutter replied, “we're very poor here. We don't have any gill fungus, button mushrooms, peppers or aniseed. All we can offer you gentlemen are some wild vegetables.”

  “We're putting you to a lot of trouble,” said Pig. “Be as quick as you can. We're starving.”

  “It'll soon be ready,” the woodcutter replied, and before long a table and stools were set out and wiped clean, and several dishes of wild vegetables served:

  Tender-scalded day lilies,

  White lumps of pickled scallion,

  Knotweed and purslane,

  Shepherds purse and “goosegut blossom.”

  The “swallows stay away” was delicious and tender;

  The tiny fists of beansprouts were crisp and green.

  Indigo heads boiled soft,

  White-stewed “dog footprints,”

  “Cat's ears,”

  Wild turnips,

  All with tender and tasty gray noodles.

  “Scissor shafts,”

  “Oxpool aid,”

  Tipped in the pot with broom purslane.

  Broken grain purslane,

  And lettuce purslane,

  All green, delicious and smooth.

  “Birdflower” fried in oil,

  Superb water-chestnuts,

  Roots of reeds and wild-rice stems,

  Four kinds of excellent water plants.

  “Wheat-mother,”

  Delicate and finely flavored;

  “Raggedy patches”

  You could never wear.

  Under the bitter sesame bed runs a fence.

  Sparrows wander around,

  Macaques leave their footprints,

  Eager to eat it all when fried and piping hot.

  Sloping wormwood and green artemisia surround crown daisy chrysanthemums;

  The moths fly around the buckwheat.

  Bald “goat's ear,”

  Wolfberry fruits,

  That don't need oil when combined with dark indigo.

  A meal of every kind of wild vegetable

  As a mark of the woodcutter's
reverent thanks.

  When master and disciples had eaten their fill they packed up ready to start out again. Not daring to press them to stay, the woodcutter asked his mother to come out and bow to them in thanks again. He then kowtowed, fetched a club of jujube wood, fastened his clothes tight, and came out to see them on their way.

  Friar Sand led the horse, Pig carried the shoulder-pole, and Monkey followed close behind them while the master put his hands together on the back of the horse and said, “Brother woodcutter, could you kindly lead us to the main track? We will take out leave of you there.” Together they then climbed high, went down slopes, skirted ravines and negotiated inclines. “Disciples,” said the venerable elder thoughtfully as he rode,

  “Since leaving my monarch to come to the West

  I have made a long journey across a great distance.

  At each river and mountain I have met with disaster,

  Barely escaping from monsters and fiends.

  My heart has been set on the Three Stores of scriptures,

  And my every thought is of Heaven above.

  When will my toil and my labor be ended?

  When will I go home, my journey completed?”

  When the woodcutter heard Sanzang saying this he said, “Don't be so downhearted, sir. It's only some three hundred miles West along this road to India, the land of paradise.”

  As soon as Sanzang heard this he dismounted and replied, “Thank you for bringing us so far. Now that we are on the main track, please go home now, brother woodcutter, and give our respects to your venerable mother. We poor monks have no way to reward you for the sumptuous meal you gave us just now except by reciting surras morning and evening to protect you and your mother and enable both of you to live to be a hundred.” The woodcutter took his leave of them and went back by the way he had came. Master and disciples then headed West together.

  Indeed:

  The ogre subdued and wrongs set to right, he escaped from his peril;

  Having been shown this kindness he set out on his way with the greatest of care.

  If you don't know how long it was till they reached the Western Heaven, listen to the explanation in the next installment.

  Chapter 87

  When Heaven Is Offended in Fengxian It Stops the Rain

  The Great Sage Urges Goodness and Brings a Downpour

  Deep and mysterious is the Great Way;

  What news is there of it?

  When revealed it will alarm ghosts and divine beings.

  It controls the universe,

  Divides darkness and light;

  In the world of true happiness there is no competition.

  Before the Vulture Peak

  Pearls and jewels emerge,

  Shining with every color.

  It illuminates all beings that live between heaven and earth;

  Those who understand it live as long as mountains and seas.

  The story tells how Sanzang and his three disciples took their leave of the woodcutter on the Hidden Clouds Mountain and hurried along the main road. After they had been going for several days they suddenly saw a walled and moated city not far before them.

  “Wukong,” said Sanzang, “is that city ahead of us India, do you think?”

  “No, no,” said Monkey shaking his head. “Although the Tathagata lives in a paradise there are no cities there. It's a great mountain, Vulture Peak, on which are the high buildings and halls of Thunder Monastery. Even if we've now reached the land of India this isn't where the Buddha lives. I don't know how far India is from Vulture Peak. Presumably this city is one of the frontier prefectures of India. We'll know when we get there.”

  Soon they were outside the city, where Sanzang dismounted to go in through the triple gates. Here they found the people destitute and the streets deserted. When they reached the market there were many black-clad government servants lined up on either side of a number of officials wearing their hats and sashes of office and standing under the eaves of a building. As the four travelers came along the road these men did not give way at all, so Pig in his rough way raised his snout and shouted, “Out of the way! Out of the way!”

  When the men looked up with a start and saw what he looked like their bones went soft, their sinews turned numb and they fell over, shouting, “Evil spirits! Evil spirits!”

  This gave the officials standing under the eaves such a fright that they were shivering as they bowed and asked, “Where are you from?”

  Sanzang, who was worried that his disciples would cause trouble, pushed himself forward and said to the men, “I am a monk sent by His Majesty the Great Tang emperor to worship the Lord Buddha and fetch the scriptures in the Great Thunder Monastery in the land of India. Our journey brings us to this distinguished place, but as we do not know its name and have not yet found a place to stay we hope that you gentlemen will forgive us if we have caused any offence to your customs on entering your city.”

  Only then did the officials return his courtesy and say, “This is the prefecture of Fengxian, one of the frontier prefectures of India. Because we have been suffering from drought for years on end the marquis has sent us to put up a notice here calling for masters of the Dharma to pray for rain and save the people.”

  “Where's the notice?” asked Monkey when he heard this.

  “Here,” the officials said. “The arcade has only just been swept clean: we haven't posted it yet.”

  “Bring it here and show me,” said Brother Monkey. The officials then opened the notice out and hung it up under the eaves. Monkey and the others went up to read it, and this was what was written on it:

  Shangguan, Marquis of Fengxian Prefecture in Great India, issues this notice to invite enlightened teachers and great masters of the Dharma. This country with its prosperous soldiers and people has been afflicted with drought for years. Military and civil land alike has been devastated; the rivers have dried up and the ditches are empty. There is no water in the wells, and the springs have stopped flowing. While the rich are barely managing to stay alive, the poor cannot survive. A bushel of wheat costs a hundred pieces of silver; a bundle of firewood costs five ounces. Girls of ten are being sold for three pints of rice; boys of five are being given to whoever will take them. Because the city dwellers fear the law they pawn their clothes to buy the necessities for survival; but in the countryside thugs rob and eat people in order to live. I have therefore issued this notice in the hope that wise and worthy men from all around will pray for rain to save the people. The will be richly rewarded for their kindness with a thousand pieces of silver. This is no empty promise. Let those who would take it up come to this notice.

  When he had read it Monkey asked the officials, “What's Shangguan?”

  “Shangguan is our marquis' surname,” they replied.

  “It's a very rare surname,” said Monkey with a laugh.

  “You've never been to school, brother,” said Pig. “There's a bit at the end of the book The Hundred Surnames that goes 'Ouyang and Shangguan.'”

  “Stop this idle chatter, disciples,” said Sanzang. “If any of you know how to pray for rain, bring them a fall of timely rain and save the people from this affliction: that would be a very good thing indeed to do. If you cannot, we must be on our way and waste no more time.”

  “What's so difficult about praying for rain?” Monkey asked. “I can turn rivers upside down, stir up the sea, move the stars and constellations about, kick the sky, churn up water in wells, breathe out mist and clouds, carry mountains, drive the moon along and summon wind and rain. They're all child's play. Nothing to them!”

  When the officials heard this they sent two of their number straight to the prefectural offices to report, “Your Excellency, something very splendid indeed has happened.”

  The marquis, who was burning incense and praying silently at the time, asked what it was when he heard that something splendid had happened. “We were taking the notice to post at the entrance to the market,” the officials replied, “when f
our monks came along who said that they have been sent by the Great Tang in the East to the Great Thunder Monastery in India to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. As soon as they read the notice they said they could bring timely rain, which is why we have come here to report.”

  Refusing to take a sedan-chair, horse or large retinue, the marquis went on foot in his robes of office straight to the entrance to the market in order to invite the strangers with the utmost courtesy to pray for rain.

  “His Excellency the marquis is here,” it was suddenly announced, and everybody moved out of the way.

  As soon as he saw the Tang Priest the marquis, who showed no fear of his hideous disciples, prostrated himself in the middle of the street and said, “I am Marquis Shangguan of Fengxian Prefecture, and I have bathed and perfumed myself in order to beg you teachers to pray for the rain that will save the people. I implore you in your great mercy to give play to your divine powers and bring us deliverance.”

  Returning his courtesies, Sanzang said, “This is no place to talk. We will be able to act when we have gone to a monastery.”

  “Please come with me to my humble palace,” the marquis replied. “We have a pure place there.”

  Master and disciples then led the horse and carried the luggage straight to the palace, where they all exchanged greetings and the marquis ordered tea and a vegetarian meal. When the food arrived a little later Pig ate for all he was worth like a hungry tiger, terrifying the waiters, who trembled as they kept coming and going with more and more soup and rice. They looked like the figures on one of those revolving lanterns, and they could just keep him supplied until he had eaten his fill. Only then did he stop.

  When the meal was over the Tang Priest expressed his thanks then asked, “How long has the drought lasted here, Your Excellency?” To this the marquis replied,