"Now, the Emperor was very fond of the Empress, and when she urged him to send the princes away he gave his consent. This one was made governor of a state to the west. That one was sent to rule over a state to the south, and others were kept away from the court on one pretext or another.
"The fourth son of the Emperor was a young man called Chu Ti. He was handsome and strong and pleasant of manner. Everyone in the palaces loved him above all the other princes, and the Emperor himself showed great affection for him.
"'Your son, Chu Ti, is grown,' the Empress said to the Emperor one day. 'He is a splendid young man and you should give him a splendid state to rule over. That land of Yen to the north is now without a governor. Why do you not name your Chu Ti as Prince of Yen?'
"'But the land of Yen is far. Even I do not know what sort of place it may be,' the Emperor said.
"'All parts of the empire of Your Shining Majesty are glorious,' the wily Empress replied. 'Why should Yen be an exception? It is the very place for Chu Ti.' And the Empress flattered her husband and begged him so hard that at last he gave in.
"When the good prince was ready to set forth on his long journey into the north, an old priest who loved him thrust into his hand a little sealed packet. 'Take this, my son,' said the old priest. 'Do not break its seal until you are in trouble. But when the time comes that you cannot see your way clearly, then open the packet and you may find help inside it.'
"Ai, my children, the wicked Empress well knew to what sort of a land she was sending poor Prince Chu Ti. Yen was a rough country. It had no fine cities. Its people were many but their houses had been destroyed by foes from the north. Chu Ti's heart was heavy when he saw his poor kingdom. He wept bitter tears and nothing his companions could say brought smiles to his face,
"'Now indeed I am in trouble,' he said to himself. 'I do not know what to do. Surely this is the time to open the packet the kind old priest gave me.' So he broke its seal. Inside there were a number of thin folded papers. He took out the first, unfolded it, and read: 'When you come to the land of Yen, you, Chu Ti, must build a magnificent city. Summon your friends to aid you and lay out your building after this plan.' Upon the priest's paper was traced the map of a city more splendid than Chu Ti ever had dreamed of. He called his companions about him and he told of the great city which he wished to build. Many among them were rich. They so loved the good prince that they were happy to lay their wealth at his feet, and they sent for their friends of other rich families to help him also.
"The news of the city that Chu Ti was to build spread over the land, and hundreds of thousands of men came to the north. Each step of the way Chu Ti followed the directions in the priest's little packet. White stones were brought from the wild hills to the west. Great bricks were made from clay in the neighborhood, and a huge double wall was set up round the city. Earth dug from the moat was packed hard inside this so that the palaces it enclosed should be safe from all robbers. Nine gates under tall towers each with three curving roofs were let into the wall.
"In the heart of Chu Ti's city splendid temples were built to honor the gods of heaven and earth, and outside its wall a mountain of coal was laid up for use in time of war. I myself saw 'Coal Hill,' my children, with its five peaks upon which five temples are built. Its sides are now covered with grass, but it is well known that there is a store of coal underneath.
"And the palaces Chu Ti built! Of the whitest of marble, with dragons carved in their stones, they were far more magnificent than those of his father, the Emperor, in Nanking. Each curving roof was covered with tiles of the Emperor's own color, yellow, and on their ridges little yellow porcelain lions and dragons stood guard against evil spirits. There were gardens and lakes, deep wells and tanks, and about the high wall was a moat filled with water upon which lilies floated.
"The good prince was so pleased with his splendid city that he called before him all the friends who had given him aid. 'From this day,' he declared, 'as a mark of my gratitude, you and your children shall have the right to embroider on the cuffs of your robes our imperial dragon.' And from that day to this, my dear ones, when a man has been granted great favors we say 'he has received the dragon cuff.'
"The fame of Prince Chu Ti's city grew and grew. From every part of the empire came merchants with their most costly wares. Fine shops were built. Courtyards were laid out for family dwellings. There was plenty and peace. Nowhere in the empire was there a state so pleasant to live in as that land of Yen.
"But there are dark days and bright days in every moon, my heart's treasures," the Old Old One said, shaking her head. "And so there came a time when the brightness of Chu Ti's city was darkened. For one morning his ministers came before him, wringing their hands. 'The wells are thirsty,' they wailed. 'The rivers are dry. The people are fearful.'
"Prince Chu Ti called upon the court fortune teller and asked him the reason why the water had gone out from the wells and the rivers.
"'I see it all clearly,' said the wise fortune teller as soon as he had gazed at the stars and peered into his books. 'When you dug the foundation for the east wall of the city you broke into the cave of a dragon who had lived there for thousands of years. That dragon was angry and wished to depart. But his dragon wife protested, 'Why should we leave our home where we have dwelt in peace for so long? Let us rather drive out the Prince of Yen. Let us take all his water. Then his people will go and leave us alone.'
"'O-yo,' the prince exclaimed, 'perhaps the dream I had last night will throw more light upon that. In my sleep it seemed that an old man and an old woman knelt down before me. They begged to be permitted to go away from my city and they asked to be allowed to take along with them two baskets of water. I gave them permission. What can it mean?'
"And since the prince was in deep trouble and could not see his way clearly, he took out again the precious sealed packet which the old priest had given him. He drew out another paper. And upon it he read: 'The old man and the old woman whom you saw in your dream are the dragons who live in the cave outside the east wall. In those magic baskets of theirs they are carrying off all the waters of Peking. Make haste to pursue them.'
"With his spear in his hand, on the fastest horse in his stables, Prince Chu Ti galloped after the water thieves. And soon he came upon the very old man and his wife whom he had seen in his dream. They were dragging a cart with the two baskets of water loaded upon it. Without warning them Chu Ti thrust his spear into one of the baskets. Then he galloped away to a high hill, as the priest's writing had told him to do. From the hole he made in the basket a huge stream of water gushed forth over the land. In less time than it takes me to tell it, it covered the country like a mighty lake. It surrounded the hilltop where Prince Chu Ti stood, so that it seemed like an island.
"'Do not be alarmed, dear Chu Ti, I will call on heaven to help you,' said a voice that came from behind him. And Chu Ti, turning round, saw to his amazement that it was his old friend, the priest. No sooner had the priest said a prayer than the waters began to fall back, and they returned to their places in the rivers and wells.
"Nothing was seen of the old man and his wife, but the broken basket became a hole in the earth so large that you could drop a temple inside it. From its bottom a huge stream of clear water spurted up like a fountain. And in its very center Prince Chu Ti saw a tall tower with many curving roofs set one over the other. It was a pagoda which rested upon the top of the fountain, just as boats float on our lake. Up and down it went as the waters rose and fell, and sometimes its tip disappeared in the clouds, so high leaped the fountain.
"Today that pagoda no longer rests on the water. It stands on a hill at the foot of which is the spring from which water is carried to make the tea for the Son of Heaven in the Forbidden City. Men often call it The-Pagoda-That-Holds-the-Waters-in-Place. And they say that since the Prince of Yen outwitted the two dragons his city of Peking has never lacked water in its rivers and wells."
XXI
KO-AI'S LOST SHOE
TELL US more about Peking, Lao Lao," Yu Lang begged when her grandmother had finished the tale about the beginnings of the northern capital of their great land.
"With so many words, my tongue is as thirsty as the wells of Chu Ti," the old woman said. "Bid Huang Ying bring tea, and then you shall hear about the great bell I saw when I went to Peking."
Water was always boiling and ready to be poured over dried leaves in the little tea bowls. The water in the Ling wells, as in all the wells in the city, was not good to drink. "Drink water unboiled, or throw yourself in the river. It is all the same," old Wang Lai, the nurse, used to tell the children. So when they were thirsty the Lings always drank this steaming hot water flavored with fragrant tea.
"Ai, my children, this gives strength," the Old Old One said, as she daintily sipped her cup of hot tea. With her forefinger she held its little saucer-like cover so as to push back the tea leaves that floated on top of the pale green-yellow liquid. She drank her tea noisily because she thought that showed how much she enjoyed it.
"Now you shall hear the tale of the great bell of Peking and how poor Ko-Ai lost her shoe," the Old Old One said. "There are two mighty towers that rise high over the walls of the northern capital. One is the tower upon which stands the great drum that gives the time for the whole city. Here in our courtyard, Fu, who makes our time-sticks, sets them by the sun and stars. You have seen how he covers a stick with clay and burning-powder. You know how he marks it in even sections that take just so long to burn. It is our time-stick that tells us whether it is the hour of the dragon or the hour of the monkey.
"But in the Drum Tower of Peking there is a water clock that measures the twelve hours of the day. By means of it the keeper of the drum can tell when to strike the hour of the rat, the hour of the tiger, and all the other hours into which our day is divided. Blows on the drum boom over the city, and everyone sets his time-sticks by its thunder.
"When night comes and it is the hour for people to close their gates tight, the great bell in the other tall tower is rung. So huge is it and so loud its tone that its clear voice is heard in every courtyard. 'Boom-m-m-m' goes the bell, and then if you listen you can hear a note that sounds like 'shieh-h-h-h,' which people say is the whispering wail of the lovely Ko-Ai, calling for her lost shoe.
"It all happened long ago when the Emperor Yung Lo sat on the Dragon Throne in Peking. His workmen had laid up great bricks and stones into two mighty towers which stand there today. They had built them high and they had built them huge, so that they should be the most splendid watchtowers in all the land.
"'We shall place a great drum upon one, and we must have a bell for the other to warn the whole city when foes draw near,' the Emperor said. 'It must be such a bell as has never before been heard. Mixed with its iron it must have in it brass to make its tones strong, gold to make its tones rich, and silver to make its tones sweet. And we must be able to hear it for a distance as long as that of the wall that surrounds all Peking.'
"Well, the metals were brought from the mines deep in the earth, and bellmakers were summoned from all parts of the empire. They labored for many days, and at last the mixed metal was ready for pouring into the bell mold. The fortune teller consulted the stars and set a lucky day, upon which the Emperor and his court assembled to watch the great bell being cast. The court musicians played while the hot melted metal was poured into the mold. Then the Emperor and his attendants departed, leaving Kuan Yu, the master bellmaker, to watch the mold cool.
"Ai-yah, my little ones, that day was not lucky, in spite of the fortune teller. For as soon as Kuan Yu took the bell from the mold he saw that the metal was as full of fine holes as a honeycomb.
"The Emperor was vexed, for much time and money had been spent in making the bell. But he gave Kuan Yu the order to try once again. More metal was brought in from the mines, and more care than before was taken with mixing it. Again, when the mold was ready and the metal was melted, the Emperor and his court gathered about it. But again, when his bell cooled, the unlucky bellmaker found the same holes in its sides.
"This time the Emperor was angry indeed. He called Kuan Yu to him and said, 'Once more, O Bellmaker, I give you a chance. But if you fail now, your head shall come off.'
"Poor Kuan Yu was filled with terror. He returned to his home with dismay written upon his face, and even the efforts of his beloved daughter, Ko-Ai, failed to pierce his deep gloom. Ko-Ai was a maiden about sixteen years old. She was the only child of the bellmaker, and he loved her as his life. She was beautiful as the new moon, with eyes shaped like an almond and brows curved like a willow leaf. Her skin was white as rice and her hair black as lacquer. Not too tall nor too short, when she walked she swayed to and fro like a flower in the spring breeze. Ko-Ai could make verses as well as a poet, and her embroidery was as fine as the best needlework in the empire. She never forgot her duty to her father and mother, and she kept all the rules for maidenly conduct.
"Kuan Yu, the bellmaker, went about his task of making this third bell with a heavy heart. He watched each step of mixing the metals himself. He took every precaution, but still he could not be sure that his bell would be perfect.
"The good and lovely Ko-Ai could think of nothing but her poor father and the sad fate that awaited him if he should fail. One day she secretly asked advice from a fortune teller, who replied to her thus:
"Gold and iron will not wed,
Nor brass and stiver share a bed,
Unless with maiden's blood they're blended
Your father's life will soon be ended.
"The maiden trembled at the words of the soothsayer. 'What other maiden save Ko-Ai would there be?' she asked herself. But such was her love for her dear father that she felt no price too great to pay for his life. Without telling him what she had in her mind, Ko-Ai begged Kuan Yu that she might be present when the third bell was molded.
"For a third time, when the metal was melted in the great caldron, the Emperor and his princes gathered and the court musicians played. Then, just as the rushing stream of hot metal flowed into the mold the bellmaker's daughter, the lovely Ko-Ai, said in a low voice, 'It is for thee, O my father.' And she rushed to the side of the bell mold and threw herself into the stream. The metal bubbled up in a fountain of bright colors and then it flowed smoothly, filling the mold. Everyone cried out. They rushed to the side of the bell mold. But there was nothing to be seen of Ko-Ai except one tiny shoe which remained in the hand of her old nurse, who had tried to catch hold of her as she jumped.
"But the soothsayer had spoken truly, for when the great bell was rung, it was as the Emperor had wished, more perfect and more powerful than any bell upon earth. Its boom could be heard across the whole city. And when it was struck, after each great note there was a whispering wail that sounded like 'shieh-h-h.' I myself have heard it. Who knows, that whisper may indeed be Ko-Ai calling and calling for her lost shoe, as people say. Though I feel certain her spirit is happy. So good a daughter as she has surely been well rewarded by the Jade Emperor of Heaven.
"Another tale is told about that great bell in Peking, my children," Grandmother Ling added. "Men say that if it is struck by a strange hand, rain falls from the sky. Upon the day I stood near it, a party of sharp-nosed foreigners from over the sea came to visit the bell. They looked at it with their round muddy eyes and one wished to strike it. The bellkeeper told them that the sky dragons would be angry and that they would send rain. But the ignorant strangers would not believe it.
"I think they must have paid the bellkeeper well, for at last he permitted them to draw back the great wooden beam and to drive it against the side of the bell. The noise made me deaf for the rest of the day, so loud was its tone. But hardly had the notes of the great bell died away than the black clouds that formed overhead were split with sharp lightning. Thunder rolled and the rain fell upon us in torrents. The guards laughed at the surprise of the fuzzy-haired foreigners. But so stupid were they that, even then, they would not believe tha
t it was ringing the bell that had brought on the storm."
XXII
THE SPINNING MAID AND THE COWHERD
OFTEN on hot summer evenings the Lings, big and little, gathered about the round stone table in their Garden of Sweet Smells. There under the star-sprinkled sky the air was cooler than in the family hall or in the apartment of the Old Old One. In the soft moonlight fans could be seen moving forward and back. The leaves of the trees rustled and the distant wind bells tinkled faintly now and then in the light breeze. The children sat silent upon the curving stone benches, listening to the poems and the stories which their elders recited.
"The Silver River is clear and calm tonight," said Grandmother Ling as she looked up at the broad streak of white light made by the stars in the Milky Way. "It is well. The poor Spinning Maid will be able to cross safely the Bridge of the Magpies when she goes to meet her beloved Cowherd tonight."
Everyone around the stone table understood what Grandmother Ling meant. Ah Shung and Yu Lang knew by heart this tale of the Spinning Maid and the Cowherd. They had heard it again only that morning, as they had every Seventh Day of every Seventh Moon since they were born.
As the Old Old One told the story, one day long, long ago a handsome young man was tending his water cow by the side of a stream. He was fond of the huge black beast that drew his plow for him, and he took care to lead her where the greenest grass grew and where there was water deep enough for her to wallow to her heart's content.
As the youth lay on the grassy bank beside the grazing cow, he saw seven maidens swimming about in the river, and he was startled, for they were more beautiful than any maidens he had ever seen, even in dreams. Now his water cow was a fairy beast which had the power of talking, and, as the young man looked in wonder at the seven fair maids, words came from her mouth.
"Those are maidens from the Heavenly Kingdom, kind Cowherd," the water cow said. "The six who swim there in a group are well enough, but the seventh, that one by herself on the other side of the stream, is the fairest and the wisest of them all. In her palace in heaven she has a spinning wheel and a loom upon which she spins thread and makes cloth for the gods. Such fine silk she makes! It is softer than the softest cloud and its colors are those of the most brilliant sunset.
Tales of a Chinese Grandmother Page 12