by Wu Cheng-En
“The one in yellow, my lord,” they groaned.
Monkey went over, took his sword from him, and sliced off his head. Holding the gory head in his hand he put his cudgel away and caught up with the Tang Priest by cloud. “Master,” he said, waving the head in front of the horse, “here's the head of old Yang's wicked son.”
Sanzang, pale with horror, fell out of the saddle. “Evil macaque,” he said, “you will be the death of me, terrifying me like that. Take it away at once.” Pig kicked the head to the side of the path and buried it with his rake.
“Do get up, Master,” said Friar Sand, putting down the carrying pole and supporting the Tang Priest. Pulling himself together as he sat there on the ground the venerable elder started to recite the Band-tightening Spell. Monkey's skull was squeezed so tight that his face and ears turned bright red, his eyes bulged and his head ached. “Stop! Stop!” he pleaded, rolling around in agony, but even when Sanzang had said it a dozen times or more he still carried on.
In his unbearable agony Monkey turned somersaults and stood on his head, screaming, “Forgive me, Master. Say what you have to say. Stop, stop!” Only then did Sanzang stop reciting the spell.
“I've nothing to say to you,” he replied. “I don't want you with me any more. Go back.” Kowtowing despite his pain, Monkey asked, “Master, why are you sending me away?”
“Wicked ape,” said Sanzang, “you're too much of a murderer to fetch scriptures. I gave it to you yesterday for your cruelty in killing the two bandit chiefs on the mountainside. When we reached the old gentleman's house late yesterday evening he gave us a meal and a night's lodging, and we only got away with our lives because he helped us to escape through the back gate. Even though his son was a bad lot that was none of our business, and it was wrong of you to cut off his head, to say nothing of all the other lives you destroyed. Goodness knows how much you have damaged the harmony of heaven and earth. Despite my repeated advice there is not a shred of goodness in you. I do not need yon at all. Clear off at once if you don't want me to say the spell again.”
“Don't say it, don't say it,” pleaded Monkey in terror, “I'm going.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than he disappeared without a trace on his somersault cloud. Alas!
When the mind is full of murder,
Cinnabar cannot be treated.
If the spirit is in disorder,
The Way stays uncompleted.
If you don't know where the Great Sage had gone listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 57
The True Sun Wukong Makes His Complaint at Potaraka
The False Monkey King Copies a Document in the Water Curtain Cave
Angry and depressed, the Great Sage Sun rose up into the air. There were many places he would have liked to go to but could not. In the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit he was afraid of being teased for coming back so soon after he had gone, not like a real man. He did not think he would be allowed to stay long in the palaces of Heaven; he could not face the immortals in the three magic islands in the sea; and he could not bring himself to beg for the help of the dragon king in his dragon palace. He had nobody to turn to.
“There's nothing for it,” he thought bitterly. “I'll just have to go back to the master and pursue the true achievement.”
He then brought his cloud straight down to stand in front of the Tang Priest's horse and say, “Please forgive me this time, Master. I'll never commit another murder, and I'll do every thing you tell me. You must, must let me escort you to the Western Heaven.” The moment the Tang Priest saw him he reined in the horse. His only reply was to start reciting the Band-tightening Spell, which he did over and over again more than twenty times, not stopping until Monkey lay weeping on the ground, the band sunk a good inch into his head.
“Why haven't you gone back? Why are you still bothering me?” Sanzang asked.
“Don't say it again,” said Monkey, “don't! I've got places I can live, but I'm afraid you'll never reach the Western Heaven without me.”
“You are a brutal murderer, you macaque,” Sanzang angrily burst out. “You have got me into a lot of trouble on your account. I want nothing more to do with you. Whether I get there or not is nothing to do with you. Go at once. One more moment's delay and I'll say the spell again, and I won't stop till your brains have all been squeezed out.” In unbearable pain, and seeing that the master would not change his mind, Monkey had no choice. Once again he shot up into the air on his somersault cloud, and this time he had a sudden inspiration.
“That monk has let me down,” he thought. “I'm off to Potaraka to lodge a complaint with the Bodhisattva Guanyin.”
The splendid Monkey set off once more on his somersault cloud and in less than two hours he was at the Southern Ocean. He stopped his auspicious cloud and then straight to Potaraka.
Sun Wukong charged in to the Purple Bamboo Grove where Moksa the Novice appeared to greet him politely and ask, “Where are you going, Great Sage?”
“I would like to see the Bodhisattva,” he replied. Moksa then led him to the mouth of the Tide Cave, where the page Sudhana bowed and asked, “Why are you here, Great, Sage?”
“I want to lay a complaint before the Bodhisattva,” Monkey replied.
At the word “complaint” Sudhana said with a smile, “What an evil tongue you have, you ape. It's just like when you tricked me after I caught the Tang Priest. Our Bodhisattva is an infinitely holy and good Bodhisattva who in her great mercy and compassion has made a vow to use the Great Vehicle to save all suffering beings. What could she have done wrong for you to complain about?”
At this Monkey, who was already in thoroughly bad spirits, exploded with fury. He gave a shout that made Sudhana fall back: “Ungrateful little beast! Stupid fool! You used to be a monster-spirit till I asked the Bodhisattva to win you over and convert you. Now you're living in eternal bliss and freedom, and you'll go on doing so as long as the heavens last. You ought to be bowing low to thank me instead of being so thoroughly insulting. I come here with a complaint to lay before the Bodhisattva, and you accuse me of having an evil tongue and complaining about her.”
“I see you're as hot-tempered a monkey as ever,” said Sudhana. “I was only teasing: no need to turn nasty.”
As they were talking the white parrot came and flew around them, which they recognized as a summons from the Bodhisattva. Moksa and Sudhana then led Monkey in to her lotus throne, where he kowtowed to her, howling aloud as the tears streamed down his cheeks. Telling Moksa and Sudhana to help Monkey to his feet, the Bodhisattva said, “Wukong, tell me straight out what it is that is upsetting you so. Don't cry: I shall deliver you from your troubles.”
“I've never been treated this badly in the whole of my life,” said a tearful Monkey, continuing to kowtow to her. “Ever since you saved me from the disaster sent by Heaven I've been a faithful Buddhist and protected the Tang Priest on his way to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. I've risked my skin to rescue him from demons, even though it's been like taking crunchy bones out of a tiger's mouth, or lifting the scales on a dragon's back. I've been trying so hard to win a true reward and wipe out my past sins. I never thought that the master would be so ungrateful that he'd ruin my chances of a good destiny because he couldn't tell right from wrong.”
“Explain what you mean by not telling right from wrong,” said the Bodhisattva, and Monkey told her all the details of how the bandits had been killed, and of how in his anger at so much slaughter the Tang Priest had said the Band-tightening Spell many times over without going into the rights and wrongs of the case then repeatedly sent him away. He said he had come to her because he had no way of getting up to heaven or into the earth.
“The Tang Priest is travelling West on his emperor's orders,” said the Bodhisattva, “and would not allow anyone to be killed for no good reason. He is a monk whose heart is set on kindness. Why did someone of your tremendous powers need to bot
her with killing so many small-time bandits? Bandits like that are bad, but they're human and it's wrong to kill them. It's not the same as with evil beasts, demons and spirits. Killing them is a good deed. Killing those men was cruel. You could have saved your master by just making them run away. In my impartial judgement it was wicked of you to kill them.”
“Even if I was wicked,” said Monkey, “I ought to be allowed to redeem it by doing good. He was wrong to sent me away like that. I beg you in your mercy, Bodhisattva, say the Band-loosening Spell and take it off. I'll give the band back to you and go and live in the Water Curtain Cave.”
“The Tathagata Buddha taught me the Band-tightening Spell,” the Bodhisattva replied. “He gave me three treasures when I was sent to the East to find a pilgrim to fetch the scriptures: the brocade cassock, the nine-ringed monastic staff, and the three bands. He taught me the three secret spells, but a band-loosening spell was not one of them.”
“In that case, Bodhisattva, I must say good-bye,” Monkey replied. “Where will you go?” the Bodhisattva asked. “I'll go to the Western Heaven to pay my respects to the Tathagata and ask him to teach me the Band-loosening Spell.” Monkey replied. “Wait a moment while I find out for you whether the prospects are good.”
“No need,” said Monkey. “Things are quite bad enough as they are already.”
“I'm not finding out about yours but about the Tang Priest's,” the Bodhisattva replied.
The splendid Bodhisattva then took her seat on her lotus throne and sent her heart roaming through the three worlds while her perceptive eyes traveled all over the universe. Within the instant she spoke: “Wukong, your master is just about to be wounded, and he will soon be coming to look for you. Wait here while I go to see the Tang Priest and tell him to continue taking you with him to fetch the scriptures and achieve the true reward.” The Great Sage could only agree and control his impatience as he stood at the foot of the lotus throne.
The story returns to the Tang Priest, who since sending Monkey away had done some fifteen more miles to the West with Pig leading the horse and Friar Sand carrying the luggage. “Disciples,” he said, reining in the horse, “I'm extremely hungry and thirsty. I've been going for many hours since we left that cottage before dawn and I've been thoroughly upset by that Protector of the Horses. Which of you is going to beg me some food?”
“Down you get, Master,” said Pig, “while I look round here for a village to beg some food in.” At this Sanzang dismounted, while the idiot went up into the air on a cloud and took a good look all around. All he could see were mountains: there was no hope of spotting a human house. Bringing the cloud back down Pig said to Sanzang, “There's nowhere to beg from here. I couldn't see a single farm when I looked around.”
“In that case,” said Sanzang, “fetch us some water to quench our thirst.”
“I'll get some from the stream on that mountain to the South,” said Pig, and Friar Sand handed him the begging bowl. While Pig carried it off on his cloud the master sat and waited beside the path for a very long time, getting more and more unbearably thirsty, and there was no sign of Pig. There is a poem to prove it that goes,
Preserve the true spirit and nourish the breath, for this is called essence.
Feeling and nature originally shared the same form.
When spirit and heart are disordered all illness arises;
If essence and form both decline the primal will crash.
Without the three contemplations all effort is wasted;
Should the four elements be too wretched there's no point in contending.
Without earth and wood there can be no more metal or water;
How can the dharma body be won through idleness?
Seeing his master in agony from thirst as Pig was not back with the water, Friar Sand put the luggage down, tethered the white horse, and said, “Master, make yourself comfortable. I'm going to hurry him up with that water.” Sanzang, too tearful to speak, nodded his head in agreement, whereupon Friar Sand headed by cloud for the mountain to the South.
Sanzang was left by himself to endure his excruciating pain. In his deep misery he was alarmed by a noise that made him sit up and look. It was Monkey kneeling by the side of the path holding a porcelain cup and saying, “Without me you can't even have water to drink, Master. Drink this cup of lovely cold water while I go to beg you some food.”
“I won't drink water you give me,” said Sanzang. “I'd rather die of thirst right here. I want no more of you. Go away.”
“But you'll never get to the Western Heaven without me,” said Monkey. “Whether I get there or not is none of your business,” the Tang Priest replied. “Wicked ape! Why do you keep pestering me?” At that Monkey turned angry and started shouting abusively, “You've been lousy to me, you cruel, vicious old baldy.” With that he threw the bowl aside and swung his cudgel, hitting Sanzang on his back. Sanzang fell to the ground, barely conscious and unable to speak, as Monkey took the two bundles wrapped in blue felt in his arms and disappeared without trace on a somersault cloud.
As Pig was hurrying to the mountain to the South with the bowl in his hand he noticed a thatched cottage in a hollow. He had not spotted it when first he looked because it had been hidden in a fold of the mountain. Realizing that it was a house now he was close to the idiot thought, “If I show them my ugly mug they'll be so scared they won't possibly give me any food. It'd all be wasted effort. I'd better turn into something a bit better-looking.”
The splendid idiot then made a spell with his hands, said the magic words, shook himself seven or eight times, and turned himself into a consumptive monk with a fat, sallow face who was mumbling something as he went up to the door and called out, “Benefactor, have you any leftover rice in the kitchen for starving travelers? I'm from the East and I'm on my way to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven. My master is back at the road, hungry and thirsty. If you have any left-over rice stuck to the bottom of your pan I beg you to give me some to save our lives.”
As it happened the men of the house were all out transplanting rice and sowing millet, and the only people in were two women who had just cooked the rice for the midday meal and had filled two platters with it that they were preparing to take to the fields. There was some rice left at the bottom of the pan. Seeing how sickly he looked they took what he said about going from the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven as delirious ravings. Afraid he might collapse and die in the doorway, they made a great to-do as they filled his bowl with rice from the bottom of the pan. The idiot took it from them, reverted to his true form, and went back the way he had come.
As he was going along he heard a shout of “Pig!” and looked up to see Friar Sand standing on the top of a precipice yelling, “Over here, over here.” Friar Sand came down and walked straight towards him, asking, “Why didn't you take some of the fresh water from this stream? Why did you go over there?”
“After I got here I saw a cottage in a hollow, so I went and begged this bowlful of rice.”
“We could certainly use it,” said Friar Sand, “but the master is terribly thirsty, so how are we going to carry some water back?”
“That's easy,” said Pig. “Carry this rice in the fold of your habit while I go and fetch some water in this bowl.”
The two of them were feeling very cheerful as they went back to the path, only to find Sanzang lying face downwards in the dirt. The white horse had slipped its bridle and was running to and fro beside the path, whinnying. There was not a sigh of the baggage. Pig stumbled and beat his breast with horror, “Don't tell me,” he shouted, “don't tell me. The survivors of the gang Monkey drove away have come back, killed the master and stolen the baggage.”
“Tether the horse,” said Friar Sand. “Whatever shall we do? We've failed halfway along our journey. Master!” Tears poured down his face as he sobbed bitterly.
“Don't cry, brother,” said Pig. “As this is what's happened we'll just have to forget about fetching the scriptu
res. You look after the master's body. I'll take the horse till I get to some town, village, market or inn where I can sell it for a few ounces of silver to buy a coffin to bury him in. Then we'll split up and go our separate ways.”
Friar Sand, unable to bear the loss of his master, turned the body over to warm the face with his own. “Poor, poor master,” he cried, then noticed hot breath coming from his master's nose and felt warmth in his chest. “Come here, Pig,” he shouted, “the master's still alive.” Pig came over and helped Sanzang to sit up.
As Sanzang came to he groaned and said bitterly, “That evil macaque tried to murder me.”
“What macaque?” the other two asked. The venerable elder sighed and said nothing.
Only when he had asked for and drunk a few mouthfuls of water did he reply, “As soon as you'd gone Wukong came to pester me again. When I still refused to take him back he hit me with his cudgel and stole the bundles wrapped in blue felt.” At this Pig ground his teeth as the fury rose higher and higher in him.
“Damn that monkey,” he said. “How could he do such a terrible thing? Look after the master,” he continued, addressing Friar Sand, “I'm going to his house to get back the bundles.”
“Don't lose your temper,” said Friar Sand. “Let's help the master over to that cottage in the hollow to ask for hot tea. Then we can heat up the rice you've begged already, and get the master better before we go after Monkey.”
Accepting this suggestion Pig helped the master back on the horse. Carrying the bowl of water, and with the rice in Friar Sand's habit, they headed straight back for the door of the cottage. There was only an old woman at home, and at the sight of them she hid herself as fast as she could. Friar Sand put his hands together in front of his chest and said, “Good lady, we've been sent by the Tang court in the East to the Western Heaven. As our master is not very well I have come to ask you for some hot tea to warm his rice with.”