Journey to the West (vol. 1)

by Wu Cheng-En

  “Stop that nonsense,” said Sanzang. “I'll ask him what he has to say. Tell me straight,” he said to Monkey, “what is bothering you. Why are you crying? Are you trying to frighten us?”

  “The person who gave us the message just now,” replied Monkey, “was the Duty God of the Day. He said that the evil spirits here are so ferocious that it will be hard to get through; besides, we'll never be able to make our way across these steep mountains. Let's go another day.”

  Trembling with fear at this news, Sanzang tugged at Monkey's tigerskin kilt and said, “Why these thoughts of turning back when we've already done half the journey?”

  “It's not that I'm wavering,” said Monkey, “but we'd be no match for so many monsters. 'A lump of iron in the furnace can only make a few nails.'”

  “You are right,” said Sanzang, “it would be very difficult by yourself. As the military classic says, 'few are no match for many'. But I also have Pig and Friar Sand for you to deploy as your subordinates. Make a joint effort to clear the path and take me over the mountain. Then you will receive your just reward.”

  As Brother Monkey's little show had only wrung these words out of his master, he wiped away his tears and said, “Pig will have to do two things I tell him to if you're to have even one chance in three of crossing the mountain as you want to, Master. If he won't do these two things for me you'll have no hope at all.”

  “Brother,” Pig said, “if we can't cross the mountain, let's disband. Leave me out of this.”

  “Disciple,” said Sanzang, “ask your brother what he wants you to do.”

  “What do you want me to do, brother?” the idiot asked.

  “Look after the master and patrol the mountains,” Monkey replied.

  “But looking after the master means staying put,” said Pig, “and patrolling means moving. You can't ask me to stay put for a bit then move for a bit. I can't do both at once.”

  “I'm not asking you to do them both,” said Monkey, “I just want you to do one of them.”

  “That's much easier,” said Pig with a smile, “though I don't know what you mean by looking after the master or by patrolling the mountains. Tell me what you want, then I can do the one that suits me.”

  “Looking after the master,” said Monkey, “means that if he wants to go for a stroll you must support him, and if he wants to eat you must beg some food for him. If he's hungry you'll be beaten. If he looks at all sallow you'll be beaten. If he's any thinner you'll be beaten.”

  “That's very difficult,” said Pig with alarm. “There's nothing to looking after him or holding him up-even carrying him would be easy enough. But if he sends me to beg for food in a village the people on this path to the West won't realize that I'm a monk going to fetch the scriptures. They'll think that I'm a growing wild boar come down from the mountains. A crowd of men with forks, rakes and brooms will surround me, capture me, slaughter me, and salt me down for the New Year celebrations. That would be the end of me, wouldn't it?”

  “Then you can patrol the mountains,” said Brother Monkey.

  “What would that involve?” asked Pig.

  “You would have to go into these mountains,” said Monkey, “to find out how many monsters there are, and all about the mountains, and what the monsters' caves are like, so that we can go across it.”

  “Nothing to it,” replied Pig. “I'll patrol the mountains.” The idiot hitched up his tunic, grasped his rake, and proudly struck deep into the mountains. His spirits were high as he hurried along the path.

  Monkey could not hold back an unkind laugh. “Wretched ape,” said Sanzang, “you haven't a shred of affection for your brothers, only jealousy. You trick him into patrolling the mountain with your cunning words, and then you laugh at him.”

  “I'm not laughing at him,” said Monkey. “My laugh means something. Just you see-he won't patrol the mountains or dare to visit any monsters. He'll hide up somewhere for a while then make up some story to fool us with.”

  “How do you know so much about him?” asked Sanzang.

  “It's what I reckon he'll do,” replied Monkey “and if you don't believe me I'll go and take a look at him. I can help him subdue any demons and find out at the same time how sincere is his wish to see the Buddha.”

  “Very good,” said Sanzang, “very good. But don't you go making a fool of him.” Monkey assented, and as he hurried up the mountainside he turned himself into the tiniest of insects with a shake of his body. He now looked very neat and small:

  On his delicate wings he could lightly dance in the breeze;

  His slim waist was as fine as a needle.

  As he darted through the reeds or passed under flowers

  He was faster than a shooting star.

  Bright were his eyes,

  Delicate his voice.

  Of all insects he was the smallest,

  Slim and elegant, but deeply clever.

  If he were resting in the woods on a day off,

  You would never see him,

  And a thousand eyes could never find him.

  He flew off, soon caught up with Pig, and perched on a bristle behind his ear; but Pig walked on, unaware that he was carrying a passenger. After two or three miles Pig dropped his rake, turned back to look at the Tang Priest, and began to curse at him, gesticulating widely.

  “Soft-headed old monk,” he said, “vicious Monkey, and weak-minded Friar Sand. They're all enjoying themselves back there while they fool me into walking off here. We're all going to fetch the scriptures and we all want our reward, so why should I be the one to reconnoiter these mountains? Hm! If they know there are monsters around we should hide up for a while. But that's not even half good enough for them. They have to send me off by myself to find them. What lousy luck. I'll go and have a sleep somewhere. When I go back I can give him some kind of vague answer and say I've reconnoitered the mountains. That'll pay them back.”

  Feeling pleased with himself for the moment Pig grasped his rake and set off. When he saw a reddish grassy slope in a mountain hollow he went straight to it, made himself a bed with the help of his rake, and lay down to sleep, saying as he stretched himself out, “This is the life. Not even Monkey can be as comfortable as I am.” Monkey, of course, had heard every word form behind his ear, and he could not resist the temptation to fly round and tease him. He shook himself and turned into a woodpecker.

  His sharp iron beak was coloured red,

  His green-blue feathers were glistening bright.

  His steel claws were as sharp as nails,

  And when hungry he broke the forest silence.

  Dry and rotten timber was what he loved;

  He hated lone and sturdy old trees.

  His round eyes and flicking tail made him a lively creature,

  And pleasant was the sound of his tapping.

  This bird was neither too big nor too small, and would have weighed only two or three ounces. Its beak was copper-red, its legs were iron-black, and it came flying down with a swish of its wings.

  When it pecked at the lip of Pig, who was sleeping with his head down, the idiot scrambled to his feet and shouted, “A monster, a monster! It jabbed me with its spear. My mouth's hurting terribly.” As he felt it with his hand he made the blood flow.

  “Dammit,” he said, “nothing especially good has happened to me, so what's this lucky red doing on my lips?” At the sight of his bloody hand he started to look wildly about himself, muttering on the while, and when he saw nothing he said, “There's no monster here, so how did I get jabbed?” Then he looked up and saw a woodpecker flying above him.

  “The wretch,” he said, gnashing his teeth, “it's bad enough being put upon by Monkey, but now you're getting at me. I suppose you didn't realize I was human and thought my snout was a black, rotten old tree full of insects. You pecked me to find yourself some. I'll have to tuck my snout into my clothes.” With that the idiot went back to sleep.

  Monkey flew down again and pecked him behind the ear, at which
the idiot leapt up again and said, “This damned bird is really going for me. It must have a nest full of eggs or chicks here and be attacking me to stop me taking it. Very well then, I won't sleep here.” He picked up his rake and left the red grassy slope to continue on his way.

  Monkey, beside himself with delight, thought, “Even with his eyes wide open the blockhead can't recognize one of his own people.”

  With a shake the splendid Great Sage turned himself back into a tiny insect and perched himself behind Pig's ear. Another mile or so deeper into the mountains there were three square granite boulders the size of tables in a hollow. Pig put down his rake and chanted a “re-e-er” to them.

  “The idiot,” grinned Monkey to himself, “those boulders aren't human. They can't talk or return his greeting. He's wasting his time being polite to them.” In fact the idiot was pretending that they were Sanzang, Friar Sand and Monkey, and practicing his speech to them.

  “When I go back,” he said, “if the master asks me about monsters, I'll say that there are some here. When he asks what sort of mountain this is he'll think I'm talking nonsense if I say it's made of mud or earth or tin or copper or flour or paper or simply painted. I'll say it's a mountain made of rock, and if he asks about the caves I'll say there is a stone cave. What about the gates? I'll say they're iron-plated and studded. When he asks how deep the cave is I'll say it has three sections, one behind another. If he really interrogates me and wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice. Now I've got my story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey.”

  His story now concocted, he headed back along the path, dragging his rake behind him, little knowing that Monkey had heard everything behind his ear and flown off ahead when he started back. Monkey resumed his real form to see his master, who said, “Ah, here you are. Why hasn't Pig come back?”

  “He's still cooking up his story,” said Monkey, “he'll be here soon.”

  “How could that stupid fool, whose ears cover his eyes, ever make up a story?” said Sanzang. “You must be the one who is lying.”

  “You're covering up for him, master,” replied Monkey. “I heard it all from his own mouth.” He told Sanzang how Pig had been sleeping in the grass when he was woken up with a woodpeckers' peck, how he had expressed his homage to the boulders, and how he had concocted a story about the mountains being made of rock with a stone cave that had iron-plated gates and monsters living in it. It was not long before the idiot approached. He was going through his story again, his head bowed low, to make sure that he did not forget it when Monkey shouted, “Hey, idiot, what are you reciting?”

  Pig pricked up his ears, looked around, and said, “I'm back.”

  He fell to his knees and was picked up by Sanzang, who said, “You look exhausted, disciple.”

  “I am,” replied Pig. “With all that walking and climbing I'm completely whacked.”

  “Are there monsters?” Sanzang asked.

  “Yes,” said Pig, “there certainly are. There's a whole pile of them.”

  “What sort of send-off did they give you?”

  “They called me Ancestor Pig and Grandfather Pig, gave me noodle soup and vegetarian dishes, talked to me, and sent me back over the mountain with drums and banners,” Pig replied.

  “This must be some dream you had while you were asleep in the grass,” said Monkey, so frightening the idiot that he shrank two inches.

  “Lord Monkey,” he said, “however did you know I had a sleep?”

  Monkey went up to him, grabbed hold of him, and said, “Come here, I've something to ask you.”

  “Ask me if you must,” said the idiot, now shaking with fright, “but why do you have to grab me like that?”

  “What sort of mountain was it?” asked Monkey.

  “A mountain of rock,” replied Pig.

  “What sort of cave?”

  “Stone.”

  “What sort of gates?”

  “Iron-plated.”

  “How deep?”

  “There were three sections.”

  “No need to say more,” said Monkey, “I remember the rest. I'll say it all for you to make sure that the master believes it.”

  “Cheek!” said Pig. “You've not been there, so you can't possibly know what to say for me.”

  “'If he wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice.' Isn't that right?” said Monkey. The panic-stricken idiot fell to his knees again as Monkey continued, “You chanted homage to those boulders and talked to them as if they were us three, didn't you? Then you said, 'Now I've got this story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey,' didn't you?”

  “Brother,” pleaded the idiot, now kowtowing desperately, “you couldn't have heard all that while I was patrolling the mountains.”

  “I'll get you, you chaff-guzzling moron,” said Monkey, “sleeping when you'd been told to patrol the mountains. If the woodpecker hadn't pecked you awake you'd still be asleep now. When you'd been woken up you concocted this pack of lies that might have ruined our whole journey. Stretch your ankle out and I'll give you five strokes of my cudgel to teach you a lesson.”

  “A mere touch from that murderous cudgel,” said Pig, “would break my skin, and the feel of it would crack my sinews. Five blows would kill me.”

  “If you didn't want to be beaten,” said Monkey, “why did you lie?”

  “I only did it once,” said Pig, “and I'll never do it again.”

  “As it was only once I'll give you three.”

  “My lord,” said Pig, “half a blow would be the death of me.” The idiot's only recourse was to cling to Sanzang and beg him to put in a good word for him.

  “When Monkey told me you were concocting lies,” said Sanzang, “I did not believe him, yet now you clearly deserve a beating. But as there are so few of you to serve me as we cross these mountains, you had better let him off, Monkey, until we are on the other side.”

  “As the old saw goes,” said Monkey, “'to obey parental instructions is great filial piety.' As the master tells me not to beat you I'll let you off. Go and reconnoiter again. I'll show you no mercy if you lie or mess things up this time.”

  The idiot rose to his feet and went off again. As he hurried along the path he suspected at every step that Monkey was following in some form or other, so he thought everything he saw might be Monkey. When after two or three miles a tiger came bounding up from the mountainside he raised his rake and said, “Come to see whether I'm lying, brother? This time I'm not.”

  Further along a strong mountain wind blew a dead tree down and sent it tumbling towards him, at which he stamped, beat his chest and said, “What a way to treat me, brother. I said I wouldn't lie, but you go and turn yourself into a tree to attack me.”

  A little later he saw a white-necked crow cawing in front of him. “You're shameless, brother,” he said, “shameless. I meant it when I said I wouldn't lie, so why've you turned into a crow? Come to listen to me?” In fact Monkey was not following him this time, and Pig's crazed suspicions that Monkey was there wherever he went were the product of his own imagination. We will leave the idiot with his frights for the time being.

  In this Flat-top Mountain there was a Lotus Flower Cave where there dwelt two fiends, the Senior King Gold Horn and the Junior King Silver Horn. Gold Horn sat in his chair of office and said to Silver Horn, “It's a long time since we patrolled the mountain.”

  “A fortnight,” replied Silver Horn.

  “You should make a patrol today,” said Gold Horn.

  “Why today?” asked Silver Horn.

  “You can't have heard the news,” said Gold Horn, “that the Tang Priest, the younger brother of the Tang Emperor in the East, has been sent to worship the Buddha in the West. He has three followers called Sun the Novice, Pig and Friar Sand, so with their horse there are five of them in all. Find them and bring them to me.”

  “If we want to eat some humans,” said Silver Horn,
“we can catch a few anywhere. Why not let this monk go wherever he's going?”

  “You don't realize,” replied Gold Horn, “that when I left Heaven a few years back I heard that the Tang Priest was a mortal incarnation of the Venerable Golden Cicada, and a holy man who had pursued goodness for ten lives and lost not a drop of his original essence. Anyone who eats his flesh will live forever.”

  “If you can live for ever by eating his flesh,” said Silver Horn, “we won't have to bother with meditation, winning merit, refinish elixirs, or matching the male and female. All we need do is eat him. I'm off to fetch him.”

  “You're too impatient, brother,” said Gold Horn. “Don't be in such a hurry. It would be wrong to rush out and catch some monk who isn't the Tang Priest. I remember what he looks like and I once drew pictures of him and his disciples. Take them with you and check any monks you meet against them.” He went on to tell him all their names, and when Silver Horn had their pictures and knew their names he went out of the cave, mustered thirty underlings, and left to patrol the mountain.

  Pig's luck was out. He walked straight into the gang of monsters who blocked his way and said, “Who are you? Where are you from?” The idiot looked up, lifted his ears from over his eyes, and saw to his horror that they were evil ogres.

  “If I say I'm a pilgrim,” he thought, “they'll catch me. I'll say I'm just a traveler.” The junior demon reported to the king that he was a traveler. Among the thirty junior demons there were some who had recognized him and some who had not, and one of these who had recognized him remembered Silver Horn being given his instructions.

  He said, “This monk looks like Pig in the picture, Your Majesty.”

  Silver Horn had the picture hung up, which made Pig think with horror, “No wonder I'm in such low spirits these days-they've got my spirit here.”

  As the junior devils held it up with their spears, Silver Horn pointed at it and said, “The one on the white horse is the Tang Priest, and the hairy-faced one is Sun the Novice.”