Fox Volant of the Snowy Mountain by Jin Yong

by Jin Yong

  "The porter myrmidon was interrogated by the traitor. He shouted and yelled at the interrogator using the most horrid epithets, calling upon all the gods. Then he accused the traitor of betraying the Hans and their kingdom to the Tartars. The traitor had him beaten severely, his legs mutilated, and thrown into a dungeon. The blood Brother, remorse-ridden, stole secretly to the dungeon and set him free. The sham porter, the feldsher and the pauper then met and wept without restraint. They found it hard to believe that this elder sworn Brother of theirs could have denounced their cause and joined league with their enemies. After quietly probing further into the matter, they unravelled one yet more spiteful and heart-rending happening: their investigation showed that, after the three myrmidons had fought their way out of Jiugong Mountain to call in help, the sworn brother was left in waiting. Several days elapsed and no reinforcements seemed imminent. Sensing the situation, he took the great hero with his own hands and handed himself over to the enemies. He was later granted a ranking statesmanship by the Manchu Emperor, having also been given the post of Military Governor in the service of the treacherous villain."

  The assemblage changed its countenance on learning this. According to one version of the story the Dashing King had had his life taken on Jiugong Mountain by the common masses; by his army officers according to another version. Nothing gave rise to the third version that the killer was his own confidant, the myrmidon, whom he had trusted greatly.

  Orchid sighed and continued her narration: "The three myrmidons, now having confirmed all their findings, concluded that he would have to pay. They admitted that even they three acting together were no match for him fighting single-handed. Now that the sham porter was seriously wounded, they were worth even less. While pondering on what steps to take, they suddenly received a letter dispatched by their sworn Brother, extending to each an invitation to a wine party on the night of the fifteenth day of the third moon, in the Immense Pool.

  "The three myrmidons anticipated that the sender of the letter would be involved in some trickery. As he had already gathered detailed information about their movements and whereabouts, he certainly had control of the situation. Considering also that they were strangers to the locale, they found themselves in no position to decline the invitation. As matters now stood, they were obliged to go to the wine party, even if it meant committing and jeopardizing their lives. This particular trip which they had to take involved great risk.

  "On the day appointed, the three myrmidons travelled to the edge of Immense Pool to attend the wine party, all secretly armed with edged weapons. The sworn Brother was there before the appointed time, waiting by himself, having brought no bodyguard with him. He was clad in a simple coarse garment of the commoners, similar to the one worn by the four myrmidons in the old days. The four of them procured some boiled meat, roast chicken, buns and several catties of good wine from a small tavern. Then they boarded a boat which took them to the centre of the lake. There they enjoyed the moonlight, along with the food and drink.

  "While they were drinking, they recounted their audacious and boisterous days in the army. As the sworn Brother made no mention of the great hero, the other three had to check themselves. The sworn Brother gulped down bowl after bowl of wine. When the time approached mid-night, he lifted his head up towards the sky, crying out, 'Brothers, it has been a long time since we parted. I feel extremely happy today.'"

  The last sentence was delivered boldly and uninhibitedly, somewhat incongruous with the style of the gentle and noble young lady who was speaking. However, this incongruity went unheeded as the group assembled were all listening intently, fascinated by the suspense and mystery of the story.

  A short while later, the young lady in gamboge carried on her story: "In the end, the myrmidon disguised as a feldsher could hold himself back no longer and he sneered, 'You are now a ranking statesman and are enjoying fame, fortune and prosperity; of course you have every right to feel happy. I wonder how the Generalissimo would have felt?' The four myrmidons still referred to the great hero as the Generalissimo, long after he had proclaimed himself Emperor.

  "The sworn Brother said with a sigh, 'The Generalissimo must be extremely lonely. I shall show you the way to pay respects to the Generalissimo once the present matter of business has been settled.'

  "At this, the three myrmidons all boiled with anger, thinking to themselves, 'You are planning to take our lives and send us on our way to meet the Generalissimo in the underworld.' Thereupon, the sham porter reached his hand into his garment for his knife. The feldsher myrmidon signalled to him with his eye. Then he took up the wine-kettle and poured out a cupful for his sworn Brother, remarking, 'What really happened to the Generalissimo after we parted company on Jiugong Mountain?' The sworn Brother lifted his eyebrows and said, 'My reason for asking you three Brothers to come here today is expressly to discuss this matter with you.' The beggar myrmidon reached his hand out quickly, pointing at his back, crying, 'Do you see who is coming here?'

  "The long missing sworn Brother immediately turned round and found the beggar and feldsher myrmidons both flashing blades, one slashing off his right arm with a blow, and the other lunging at his back, the weapon biting several inches into the skin. The sworn Brother let out a cry and wheeled round in a trice. Stretching forth his left hand, he wrested the blades from his two assailants and flung them into the lake. Now thrusting his hand in the air, he piqued the feldsher myrmidon on the paralytic point on his chest, draining him of his colour. Then he cried out, 'We four have pledged ourselves in sworn Brotherhood to owe allegiance to each other, to realize the same common ambition and to commit ourselves to the same common cause. Yet ... yet ... why have you attacked me like cowards?' The pique had paralysed the quack practitioner and he could not move. Brandishing his sword, the sham porter shouted, 'You have slain the Generalissimo, sold him out to gain wealth and distinction, and yet you still assume airs, bragging about integrity, principles, valiance, altruism, chivalry, loyalty, righteousness, and all the rest!'

  "The sworn Brother flung out his leg and knocked the knife from the porter's hand, crying out with a laugh, 'Brother, very well said. Indeed you have integrity, high principles and heroic spirits in your veins.' Though he had one of his arms cut off and was sorely wounded, his power and courage were still commanding. The three assailants were awe-struck. As soon as the maimed myrmidon stopped laughing, he broke down, remarking, 'What a shame, what a shame that I will never get down to the major issue.' At this, he relaxed his grip on the feldsher. The latter was being cautious, afraid he might have in store for him another of his atrocious tricks. He flung out his arm on a sudden, aiming true and fast at his chest, exercising the heavy-handed pugilistic skill, dynamic in both strength and magnitude. The sworn Brother let out a loud cry, his mouth spouting crimson blood. Suddenly, he raised his left hand, driving his palm hard against the bulwark, causing the sawdust to dance and a plank to fly off. He said, twisting a smile, 'Though I am seriously wounded, it would not matter if I wished to dispatch you all. But you are my dear Brothers: I would not dream of such a thing.'

  "The three assailants retreated to the prow, lining up shoulder to shoulder to guard against any sudden attack. The sworn Brother went on with a sigh, 'Remember to keep what passed between us this very day a sworn secret. If my son were to get news of it, you three would never be his match. I intend to slit my throat so you will not be unjustly accused of taking my life.' Thereupon, he whipped out his dagger, slashed it across his throat and dropped to the ground on bent knees, his head facing down. The porter myrmidon could not restrain himself any longer. He rushed forward and cradled the dying man in his arms, crying, 'Oh, my elder Brother.' 'My dear Brothers,' quavered their sworn Brother, breathing his last. 'As to how the Generalissimo's poniard came to be wrapped in a shroud of mystery, he ... at the Crag Canyon the old Master ...' Blood oozed from his throat, and he died on the boat without ever finishing his last sentence.

  "The three looked at his body, and w
ere filled with mingled feelings of sorrow and joy. They found two rows of inscriptions engraved on the weapon with which he had slit his throat. They immediately recognized it as the very military weapon once wielded by their great hero, the Dashing King."

  At this, the Company present turned towards Tree and examined the poniard he was holding in his hand: a short, keen stabbing weapon. Suddenly Hawk shook his head, claiming, "I do not think this blade belonged to the Dashing King."

  "What do you know?" shouted Century.

  To this Hawk retorted, "Li had massacred tens of thousands. He had stained his hands for miles and miles across the country. It is inconceivable that he could sanction this inscription by military decree." The assembly was dumb-founded and baffled by his words.

  Yu, the steward, suddenly broke in, "Who was there to bear witness to the Dashing King's alleged atrocities?"

  "But the ancients believed that they had happened," replied Hawk, "and people still think so. We cannot be wrong."

  "You ranking officials would certainly claim that he slaughtered for slaughter's sake," retorted the steward. "You may be encouraged to know that the Dashing King exterminated only the corrupt officials, local ruffians and oppressive gentry. These people were merely riffraff. The Dashing King pronounced the decree 'Killing any man is like murdering my own father' to his army to warn his soldiers against taking the lives of the innocent. There was truth in what he decreed."

  Hawk was considering refuting the steward, but on seeing how boldly the steward conducted himself, Hawk checked himself on a sudden. Prime wanted to break this impasse, and said, "Miss Miao, what happened afterwards? Please carry on."

  Orchid continued her narration: "The sham porter then raised a question, 'He said the Generalissimo was at the Crag Canyon: what does that mean?' To this the feldsher replied, 'Did he mean to say that the Generalissimo was buried at the Crag Canyon?' The tramp shook his head, 'He was indeed wild and wicked, going even to the extent of fabricating a legend as he drew his final breath.' The story then states that upon the death of the great hero, the traitor brought his corpse to the capital, and was given a handsome price by the Imperial House. The Emperor had the head severed from the body and hung the bloody trophy over the City Gate to serve as a warning to others. The three myrmidons, putting their lives at stake, finally made away with the severed head of their dead Master. They buried it in a precipitously steep and remote place. When they had heard from their sworn Brother that their Master was at the Crag Canyon, they had found it hard to accept it as the truth.

  "After slaying their sworn Brother, the three myrmidons then concentrated their efforts on assassinating the traitor. However, all attempts failed as the traitor had taken every precaution to put himself under the tightest security. Soon word of their atrocious act of slaying their sworn Brother went round among the Martial Brotherhood. Upon learning this, the hero fighters and brave warriors in the Martial Brotherhood turned their thumbs up, applauding, 'a job well done.' When word finally reached the native village of the sworn Brother, his son was affected deeply. Gripped by grief, the young man immediately journeyed far west to Kunming to avenge the death of his father."

  Century interrupted at this juncture, "Well, his son has nothing to be proud of. The fact was that the three myrmidons were inveterate enemies of the son. But considering the atrocious crime of his father, one worthy of a death sentence, the boy should have been told not to have bothered to take it upon himself to seek revenge in the first place."

  Orchid agreed with him, "My father happened to think the same. But that son of his chose to think otherwise. In no time, the young man found himself in Kunming. He located the three myrmidons inside a torn-down temple. A battle ensued. The three myrmidons were no match for their assailant. The son, equipped with the esoteric feats of his deceased father, was fighting them single-handed. He overpowered the myrmidons in less than half a watch.

  "The son addressed his enemies, 'The three Uncles here, now please listen. How much do you know of what is behind my father's ploughing the fields of shame and disgrace and bearing the yoke of denouncing his Master for his own fame and fortune? Much lay behind it. Since you once were sworn Brothers with my late father, I shall release you this time. Now you should all return home quickly and prepare for what is necessary: the upcoming fifteenth day of the third moon marks the anniversary of my father's death. I shall surely put you to the sword, at the prescribed hour and inside your own house.' With this, he wrenched from them the edged weapon once wielded by his father in battlefields. Then he rushed on his way, leaving the three myrmidons bewildered.

  "It was already a severe winter. The three myrmidons immediately sped up north, travelling homeward. They called a family council, gathering members of the three families together and giving them an exhaustive account of the blood feud on the boat on that particular day, sparing no details. After listening to the account, the family members reacted angrily, 'He took the life of the great hero, turned himself in as a bodyguard to the traitor, and rendered service to an alien tribe as a ranking official: what good is there left in this man? It was incredible that his son should so openly and craftily defend him by making so bold a claim.' When word reached comrades in the Martial Brotherhood, they immediately swore allegiance to their cause.

  "On the night of the fifteenth day of the third moon, the son turned up as he had promised, alone."

  The Company now looked at Orchid, waiting for her to finish her story. At this moment, Lute, Orchid's personal maid, entered the hall. She was carrying a quaint tutenag thurible in her hand, snugly inside an embroidered purse. She walked to Orchid and put it inside the bosom of her garment.

  Orchid whispered an instruction to Lute, "Burn some incense." Lute followed her order and returned in no time, carrying a miniature cassolette carved from mutton-fat jade. The maid set it down on the teapoy beside Orchid. A faint plume smoked gracefully from the beak of a phoenix embellished at the top of the burner. Presently, a subtle scent of delectable perfume assailed their nostrils. The aromatic scent, entrancingly soothing to the senses, was neither that of musk nor of epidendrum.

  Thereupon, Orchid gave Lute a lecture, "Jasmine is lit only when I am in the chamber by myself. How can you burn this while there are so many around?"

  "It was utterly foolish of me," answered Lute, wearing a smile. She picked up the incense burner and returned with a bigger one.

  "The wind is blowing from the north," lectured Orchid once more. "Though there are no windows opening to the north, the wind is gusty on the top of the mountain, and somehow the gale seeps through. Are you sure you have set the censer in the right place?"

  Lute smiled and at once moved the teapoy to a corner facing northwest. She then served Miss Orchid tea in a bowl before taking her leave.

  Seeing this, the Company present remarked to themselves, "It is difficult to imagine that Phoenix, the Gilt-faced Buddha, himself a brazen knight-errant, could have doted on his daughter so excessively."

  Orchid next held up her bowl of tea gently. She uncovered its lid and examined the tea leaves and petals of Banksian inside the bowl. After taking a tiny sip, she laid the tea bowl down gently. The assemblage expected her to continue her story. To their surprise, she apologized to the group, "I have a slight headache and would like to retire to my room. Would all the Uncles here kindly excuse my absence?" At this, she raised herself from her seat and retired to the inner chamber.

  The Company present eyed each other. No words were exchanged. Curio was the first person who could no longer contain himself. Just as he was about to speak, Sign signalled to him with her eyes, causing him to arrest the words which were already on the tip of his tongue. He choked them back.

  Presently Orchid returned to the hall to rejoin the group. She had changed into a beryl green chrysochlore-lined mantua and a chrysoidine yellow plaited skirt. Orchid had also cleansed her face of the rouge which she had worn since her ascent of the mountain, looking now much fresher and more natura
l. She had used a headache as an excuse to retire to the inner room to rearrange her toilet. Immediately, Lute walked in after Orchid. She placed a cushion made from the pelt of a silver fox on Orchid's seat. Orchid sat down slowly. Her lips quivered slightly, revealing teeth like pearls.

  After a short while, she proceeded with her account, speaking gently, "Remember on the evening in question, the feldsher was hosting a banquet in his mansion. Over a hundred celebrated heroes and champion fighters were invited from among the Martial Brotherhood to the feast. They gathered there to await the arrival of the offspring of the sworn Brother. When the first watch of the night was announced, there suddenly was heard a conspicuous thud and an intruding guest suddenly appeared right in front of the group. In spite of their number, not a single adept fighter in the hall could understand how the man had stolen so surreptitiously into the room. The trespasser was about twenty, coarsely garbed in the everyday vestment of a knave, wearing a white coif on his head. In his hands he was holding a staff used by chief mourners. A backsword was slung across his back. He strode boldy across to where the feldsher, the tramp and the porter myrmidons were, oblivious of the eyes in the assemblage. There and then he addressed the three myrmidons, 'Would the three Uncles please move so that we may discuss matters discreetly and privately?'