TUN-HUANG

by Yasushi Inoue

  The next instant, Hsing-te felt his brutal adversary bending over him. “Now say it, you swine!”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Wei-ch’ih…” As his opponent began, Hsing-te instinctively pushed back Kuang, who was holding him down with all his strength. When Kuang realized that Hsing-te had resisted him, even though it was slight, his anger seemed to reach boiling point.

  “Still want to play, do you?” Kuang stood and again grasped Hsing-te by the collar and pulled him up. Hsing-te expected to be whirled about again.

  Then, in the next instant, he was abruptly released. Hsing-te staggered a few steps, then sank to the ground.

  “What’s this?” Kuang threw the question at him. Kuang was holding something small and was trying to look at it in the dim light of the night. When Hsing-te realized that Kuang was holding the necklace, he thrust his hands into his robe. When he could not find it, he stood up. “Give it back!” he begged Kuang with a passion completely unlike his usual manner.

  “Where did you get this?” Kuang, unusually, spoke gently.

  Hsing-te remained silent. He didn’t want to tell this scoundrel he had received it from the Uighur princess.

  “This is very valuable. You’d better take good care of it.” What Kuang was thinking was not clear, but he returned the necklace and walked off, as if he had forgotten all about thrashing Hsing-te.

  The necklace clasp was broken and it had become a long strand, but it was still intact and not a single stone seemed to have been lost.

  After this, Kuang’s attitude toward Hsing-te changed completely and he became gentler with him. Hsing-te was the only one he didn’t shout at. From time to time he would approach Hsing-te to question him about the source of the necklace.

  Surprisingly, Hsing-te gained privileges which should have been his all along. The brutal young man had become as gentle as if he had been castrated. Hsing-te did as he wished. After all, what with the weapons of twenty men Wang-li had lent, and the fifty camels Yen-hui had contributed, Hsing-te had every right to receive special treatment.

  Hsing-te knew a scoundrel like Kuang could easily steal the necklace. That he didn’t was probably because he wanted to learn where more of them could be obtained.

  In Kan-chou they spent three days at the camel station. During that time, Hsing-te once climbed the wall at the southwestern corner of the fortress. From the top, he could see in the distance part of the marketplace outside the South Gate. The rest was a vast expanse of grassy plain. He looked down at the open space by the wall. People walking about looked as small as peas. From there he walked toward the western part of the wall, where the Uighur princess had thrown herself off.

  Hsing-te thought of how powerless he had been in the presence of the princess, who had cut her own life short for him, and his sorrow increased. He continued walking along the wall for about half an hour, and it was then that he decided he would dedicate to her all the work that lay before him after his return to Kua-chou. He would translate the Chinese sutras into Hsi-hsia for Yen-hui, but as an offering for the repose of her soul.

  With this thought, he suddenly became happy. The work of translating the sutras into Hsi-hsia had interested him before, but with this new incentive, it took on an altogether different meaning.

  As the fierce sun beat down, Hsing-te continued his walk. Sweat poured from his arms, his legs, his neck, from his whole body.

  I humbly revere the Buddhas of the Three Realms,

  And am converted to the teachings of the Buddhas of the Ten Directions.

  I now take the Universal Vows

  And chant the Diamond Sutra

  To requite the great favors received

  From Heaven and earth, my parents, and my country-men

  And to save the deceased from the suffering in the Three Hells.

  And when people see or hear the Truth

  They will all follow in the footsteps of Buddha

  And will thus devote the rest of their lives…

  The invocation of the Diamond Sutra poured out of Hsing-te’s mouth. And as he chanted these verses, his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. Mingled with beads of sweat, the tears rolled down his cheeks and fell onto the red mud of the city wall.

  CHAPTER VI

  From the summer of 1033 until the following summer, Hsing-te stayed away from his unit with the Kua-chou ruler, Yen-hui, devoting his time to translating sutras into Hsi-hsia. One wing of Yen-hui’s palace had been set aside for the project. By the end of autumn, the six Chinese had arrived from Hsing-ch’ing and they worked steadily from morning till night. Together, the seven decided each man’s task. They divided the work into sections dealing with Nirvana, Wisdom, Lotus Sutra, Agama Sutra, Sastra, and Dalai Lama, and each man took charge of one.

  In Kua-chou there were ninety days of bitter cold, fifty days of extreme heat, and overall very little rain. Its notorious winds were strongest during winter and spring, and on several days the populace almost suffocated from sandstorms. At such times it was dark both day and night.

  Hsing-te was in charge of the Diamond Sutra, which he had first read in Su-chou. The work progressed slowly, but while Hsing-te was absorbed, he forgot all else.

  From early summer on, Wang-li’s troops began to leave the city more frequently to fight the Turfans, who were gradually infesting the area. Now and then prisoners of war were brought in, sometimes Turfans, and at others Uighurs. No matter how minor the skirmish, Wang-li personally led his troops into each battle.

  Whenever Wang-li was not out fighting the Turfans, Hsing-te would visit him at his luxurious quarters every three days.

  At the beginning of autumn, Hsing-te visited Wang-li upon his return from a battle which had lasted many days. At such times, Hsing-te was attracted by the suggestion of excitement in his face, his behavior, and his way of speaking. Wang-li never spoke about battles or developments in the war. Hsing-te would question him on occasion, but Wang-li would only give vague answers, and would call for “Chiao-chiao,” the young Chinese girl who served him, and have her bring tea. Wang-li seemed to love the girl, and she, in turn, seemed to be serving him with devotion.

  Whenever Hsing-te visited Wang-li, he would hear him call Chiao-chiao many times while he was there. Just as there was a distinctive quality to his shout when Wang-li ordered his men to attack, so, too, his voice had a special tone when he called Chiao-chiao.

  That particular day Hsing-te was seated opposite his commander, who was still in uniform. It was an unusually windless day, and the gentle autumn sun falling on the inner courtyard could be seen through the window. After they had drunk their tea, Wang-li proceeded to take off his military clothes, removing one layer after another. Chiao-chiao lovingly assisted him from behind.

  “I wonder what this is?” As Chiao-chiao spoke in her clear voice, Hsing-te looked toward her. She held Wang-li’s clothes in one hand and a necklace in the other. Hsing-te watched him slowly turn toward Chiao-chiao. The instant Wang-li recognized what she held in her hand, his expression changed and he shouted harshly. “Don’t touch that!” He had spoken so roughly that even Hsing-te was startled by his vehemence. The young girl hurriedly set the necklace on the table and looked blankly at Wang-li. Wang-li picked it up and took it to an inner chamber. When he returned he had regained his composure, and he again addressed Chiao-chiao in his special tone and asked her to bring more tea.

  Hsing-te felt unsettled for the rest of that day, even after he returned to his own quarters. He was almost certain that the necklace Wang-li had was just like his own. He had seen it only for a brief instant when Chiao-chiao had held it, but he didn’t see how he could be mistaken. He recalled that the Uighur princess had worn two identical necklaces around her neck; he possessed one and he guessed that Wang-li had the other. If so, he wondered how Wang-li had obtained his. Had the Uighur princess given Wang-li a strand just as she had given him one? Or had Wang-li taken it from her?

  Hsing-te could think of nothing else ex
cept the necklace. But no matter how long he pondered, there was no way to learn the answer other than by asking Wang-li himself.

  Late that night Hsing-te was finally able to free himself from his obsession with this question. As he thought about it, he realized that it was not only the necklace he was ignorant about. He was aware of how intensely Wang-li had loved the girl and still loved her, but he knew nothing else about their relationship. In addition, he felt he had no right to probe into it. He had made a promise to that girl and had broken it. Despite that, hadn’t she thrown herself off the Kan-chou wall for him? At least, Hsing-te was firmly convinced of this. Wasn’t it enough that she had died for him? There was no need for him to question anything else.

  Just as he had never asked Wang-li about his relationship with the girl, he also decided not to mention the necklace. Whether or not the necklace had belonged to the Uighur princess had no bearing on his own relationship with her.

  About two weeks after he necklace incident, Kuang unexpectedly came to Hsing-te’s quarters. After returning to Hsing-ch’ing, Kuang had stopped in Kua-chou for only two or three days, then left for Sha-chou, and there had been no word from him for a year.

  It was evening when Kuang arrived. As the sun had set, a chill spread in the room. As usual, Kuang had his bold expression and his eyes flashed. He sat in the chair Hsing-te offered him, and with a rather strong preamble to the effect that he would not leave without learning what he had come for, Kuang asked, “Where did you get that necklace? I know good jewelry. Those stones are not common. In Khotan they’re called moonstones. I’ve handled all sorts of gems till now, but I have never seen such priceless stones. I’m not saying that I want yours. I think you should keep it. I just want to have the other one.”

  Hsing-te unconsciously raised his voice. “What do you mean, the other one?”

  “There should be another one. Tell me where it is. I’ll get it. I’ve always got what I’ve gone after. That necklace is one of a pair. Who has the other?”

  “I don’t know.”

  To this Kuang answered, “Of course you know. Someone owned your necklace before you. Come on, tell me who!”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know!” Kuang started to rant at him and then quickly changed his mind. “Don’t say such unfriendly things. We traveled to and from Hsing-ch’ing together, didn’t we? We’re like brothers.…”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well then, how did you get that necklace? Did you steal it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kuang’s face twitched with anger. “Don’t try to make a fool of me. Don’t you see that it’s Kuang being so humble with you?” The young man rose and looked furtively around as if he were planning to assault Hsing-te again.

  “What I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

  “All right, then. Give me the one you have.”

  With a look of exasperation, Kuang seized him. But he seemed to change his mind again at this point. He could take it away from Hsing-te at any time. Letting Hsing-te keep it would be like having the necklace deposited in a convenient, safe place. Besides, it would definitely be better to have two strands rather than one. Kuang’s expression softened and he said, “You should store such valuable gems in a safe place. It’s best for you to keep yours. I’ll get the other. Such a necklace should anyway belong to me, as descendant of the Khotan royal family. I’m going to Liang-chou again. Think it over while I’m gone.”

  After this, Kuang left the room, darkening in the dusk, for the cold outdoors.

  Kuang, who said he was leaving for Liang-chou, reappeared at Hsing-te’s lodgings after about twenty days. According to him, in July the Hsi-hsia leader, Yüan-hao, had finally crossed the Chinese borders and had attacked, plundering private houses on the way and leaving a path of devastation as far as Ch’ing-chou. Now he had pulled back to Hsing-ch’ing. Meanwhile, the Wu-liang territory east of Kan-chou was in utter chaos because of the anticipated attack of the Chinese army and the continued presence of the Turfans. Only Kua-chou, ignorant of the situation, remained carefree. Actually, in the deserts, grass plains and plateaus east of Kan-chou, there were daily skirmishes between the Hsi-hsia and the Turfans, who were now moving about erratically. Even Kuang did not dare venture east of Kan-chou.

  When he had finaished, Kuang asked, “Have you thought it over about the necklace? Just who did you get it from?” Again, the same question.

  “I don’t know.” Again, the same answer.

  Kuang threatened, shouted, placated Hsing-te, and finally, seeing that his efforts were fruitless, calmed down as he had before, and asked Hsing-te to think about it. Then he left. This time Kuang took a caravan to Qoco.

  In January 1035, Wang-li’s unit received orders to leave. The Hsi-hsia army was to invade Ch’ing-t’ang, Chüeh-ssu-lo’s base, in order to subjugate the Turfans, and Wang-li’s troops were to be the vanguard in this campaign. Before all-out war with China, the Hsi-hsia planned to launch a full-scale attack on the Turfans and to destroy them at one blow.

  Hsing-te was summoned by Wang-li. When he arrived, Wang-li abruptly asked, “Do you want to go?”

  “Naturally I’ll go,” Hsing-te replied.

  “You might not return.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Hsing-te had no fear of death. The only thing he regretted was that his translation of the Diamond Sutra into Hsi-hsia was not yet completed, but that couldn’t be helped. If he survived and returned, he could probably resume that work. The prospect of risking his life again on the battlefield after such a long lapse made Hsing-te tense with excitement.

  However, a few days later, in the midst of the hubbub of departure preparations, Hsing-te was summoned to see Wang-li again.

  “I think it’s best that you remain here and continue your work. You stay here with five hundred troops and guard the city,” Wang-li ordered. As Hsing-te tried to reply, Wang-li said severely, “These are orders. Don’t answer back.” He then gave Hsing-te detailed instructions on deploying the defense troops.

  On the day that Wang-li and his four and a half thousand men left Kua-chou, a terrible storm blew up. Fierce winds hurled the snow against the age-old walls. The long line of camels and horses left from Capital Gate and headed east. Soon they disappeared into the blizzard. For a long time after their departure into the gray world, Hsing-te kept his troops, who had seen the men off, standing at attention beside the gate.

  Kua-chou suddenly seemed empty and terribly quiet. The blizzard which had swallowed up Wang-li’s troops raged for three days and nights. Hsing-te suddenly became very busy. He couldn’t go every day to the translation wing of Yen-hui’s palace as before. He could only make sure that the sutra translations continued steadily, though at a snail’s pace; then he would return to the barracks to make his rounds in order to keep up morale. Also, since Hsing-te had no experience as a commander in the front lines, he had to train himself first.

  The small marauding units of Turfans and the constant clashes that had taken place while Wang-li was there suddenly ceased as though prearranged as soon as Wang-li left. Perhaps the Turfan troops, including the small units in this area, had also been thrown into the major battle arena to the east.

  It was around the end of June, about half a year after Wang-li had left, that the first news from the east was relayed to Kua-chou. Three stalwart Chinese soldiers carried the first message from Wang-li. It appeared that Wang-li had dictated it to someone, and it was a short, concise message in Hsi-hsia.

  “Yüan-hao personally led his troops and besieged Maonin city for a month. The enemy would not surrender. He made a false truce and had the enemy open the gates, then wantonly slaughtered them. Our casualties were five hundred men. Tomorrow morning we set off to invade Chüeh-ssu-lo’s main base, Ch’ing-t’ang.” The five hundred casualties in the message seemed to be Wang-li’s men.

  About a month and a half later, in mid-August, a second message from Wang-
li arrived. This was also a report on the battle conditions, but this time the note was written in Chinese.

  “The main army attacked Ch’ing-t’ang. Other forces are fighting in An-erh on the Tsung River, and at various fronts. An-tzu-lo, Chüeh-ssu-lo’s deputy general, has cut off the main army’s retreat. Our unit has been fighting day and night for over a month in the invasion of the Tai-hsing mountains. Our casualties have reached three thousand.”

  The first message had been in Hsi-hsia, but the fact that this second one was in Chinese seemed to indicate that the Hsi-hsia writer had been among the three thousand casualties. Whether or not this was the case was beside the point. It was extremely difficult to make out from this message whether the situation was developing favorably or unfavorably for the Hsi-hsia army. However, the three thousand casualties mentioned at the end was an enormous number. Adding this to the five hundred casualties in the earlier report meant that Wang-li had lost four-fifths of his unit. The soldier who brought the message was one of the Kan-chou defense troops, and since he had not been sent directly from the front, Hsing-te could get no further information from him.

  Wang-li’s third report came about three months later, at the beginning of November. This message was even briefer than the previous one and also written in Chinese.

  “After more than two hundred days of fighting here and there on the frontiers, Chüeh-ssu-lo fled to the south. Our unit is on its way back. Yüan-hao’s main army is also proceeding toward Kua-chou.”

  Hsing-to learned from this short message that Yüan-hao, who had routed Chüeh-ssu-lo from his main base after a prolonged, raging battle with the Turfans, was now advancing toward Kua-chou and Sha-chou with the remnants of his army.