Three Kingdoms Romance

by Guanzhong Luo

  Then he confirmed the order to remain strictly on the defensive till some change of circumstances on the part of the enemy should promise advantage.

  After his army had settled into camp on the Wuzhang Hills, Zhuge Liang continued his attempts to provoke a battle. Day after day, parties went to challenge the army of Wei, but they resisted all provocation.

  One day Zhuge Liang put a dress made of deer hide in a box, which he sent, with a letter, to his rival. The insult could not be concealed, so the generals led the bearer of the box to their chief. Sima Yi opened the box and saw the deer hide dress. Then he opened the letter, which read something like this:

  “Friend Sima Yi, although you are a Commander-in-Chief and lead the armies of the Middle Land, you seem but

  little disposed to display the firmness and valor that would render a contest decisive. Instead, you have prepared a comfortable lair where you are safe from the keen edge of the sword. Are you not very like a deer? Wherefore I send the bearer with a suitable gift, and you will humbly accept it and the humiliation, unless, indeed, you finally decide to come out and fight like a man. If you are not entirely indifferent to shame, if you retain any of the feelings of a tiger, you will send this back to me and come out and give battle.”

  Sima Yi, although inwardly raging, pretended to take it all as a joke and smiled.

  “So he regards me as a deer,” said he.

  He accepted the gift and treated the messenger well. Before the messenger left, Sima Yi asked him a few questions about his master's eating and sleeping and hours of labor.

  “The Prime Minister works very hard,” said the messenger. “He rises early and retires to bed late. He attends personally to all cases requiring punishment of over twenty of strokes. As for food, he does not eat more than a few pints of grain daily.”

  “Indeed, he eats little and works much,” remarked Sima Yi. “Can he last long?”

  The messenger returned to his own side and reported that Sima Yi had taken the whole episode in good part and shown no sign of anger. He had only asked about the Prime Minister's hours of rest, and food, and such things. He had said no word about military matters.

  “I told him that you ate little and worked long hours, and then he said, 'Can he last long?' That was all.”

  “He knows,” said Zhuge Liang, pensively.

  First Secretary Yang Yong presently ventured to remonstrate with his chief.

  “I notice,” said Yang Yong, “that you check the books personally. I think that is needless labor for a Prime Minister to undertake. In every administration the higher and subordinate ranks have their especial fields of activity, and each should confine his labors to his own field. In a household, for example, the male servants plow and the female servants cook, and thus operations are carried on without waste of energy, and all needs are supplied. The master of the house has ample leisure and tranquillity. If one individual strives to attend personally to every matter, he only wearies himself and fails to accomplish his end. How can he possibly hope to perform all the various tasks so well as the maids or the servants? He fails in his own part, that of playing the master. And, indeed, the ancients held this same opinion, for they said that the high officers should attend to the discussion of ways and means, and the lower should carry out details. Of old, Bing Ji was moved to deep thought by the panting of an ox, but inquired not about the corpses of certain brawlers which lay about the road, for this matter concerned the magistrate. Chen Ping was ignorant of the figures relating to taxes, for he said these were the concern of the controllers of taxes. O Minister, you weary yourself with minor details and sweat yourself every day. You are wearing yourself out, and Sima Yi has good reason for what he said.”

  “I know; I cannot but know,” replied Zhuge Liang. “But this heavy responsibility was laid upon me, and I fear no other will be so devoted as I am.”

  Those who heard him wept. Thereafter Zhuge Liang appeared more and more harassed, and military operations did not speed.

  On the other side the officers of Wei resented bitterly the insult that had been put upon them when their leader had been presented with the deer hide dress.

  They wished to avenge the taunt, and went to their general, saying, “We are reputable generals of the army of a great state; how can we put up with such insults from these soldiers of Shu? We pray you let us fight them.”

  “It is not that I fear to go out,” said Sima Yi, “nor that I relish the insults, but I have the Emperor's command to hold on and may not disobey.”

  The officers were not in the least appeased. Wherefore Sima Yi said, “I will send your request to the Throne in a memorial; what think you of that?”

  They consented to await the Emperor's reply, and a messenger bore to the Ruler of Wei, in Hefei, this memorial:

  “I have small ability and high office. Your Majesty laid on me the command to defend and not fight till the army of

  Shu had suffered by the flux of time. But Zhuge Liang has now sent me a gift of a deer hide dress, and my shame is very deep. Wherefore I advise Your Majesty that one day I shall have to fight in order to justify your kindness to me and to remove the shameful stigma that now rests upon my army. I cannot express the degree to which I am urged to this course.”

  Cao Rui read it and turned questioningly to his courtiers seeking an explanation. Xin Pi supplied it.

  “Sima Yi has no desire to give battle; this memorial is because of the shame put upon the officers by Zhuge Liang's gift. They are all in a rage. He wishes for an edict to pacify them.”

  Cao Rui understood and gave to Xin Pi an authority flag and sent him to the River Wei camp to make known that it was the Emperor's command not to fight.

  Sima Yi received the messenger with all respect, and it was given out that any future reference to offering battle would be taken as disobedience to the Emperor's especial command in the edict.

  The officers could but obey.

  Sima Yi said to Xin Pi, “Noble Sir, you interpreted my own desire correctly.”

  It was thenceforward understood that Sima Yi was forbidden to give battle.

  When it was told to Zhuge Liang, he said, “This is only Sima Yi's method of pacifying his army. He has never had any intention of fighting and requested the edict to justify his strategy. It is well known that a general in the field takes no command from any person, not even his own king. Is it likely that he would send a thousand miles to ask permission to fight if that was all he needed? The officers were bitter, and so Sima Yi got the Emperor to assist him in maintaining discipline. All this is meant to slacken our soldiers.”

  Just at this time Fei Yi came. He was called in to see the Prime Minister, and Zhuge Liang asked the reason for his coming.

  He replied, “The Ruler of Wei, Cao Rui, hearing that Wu has invaded his country at three points, has led a great army to Hefei and sent three other armies under Man Chong, Tian Du, and Liu Shao, to oppose the invaders. The stores and fight-material of Wu have been burned, and the army of Wu have fallen victims to sickness. A letter from Lu Xun containing a scheme of attack fell into the hands of the enemy, and the Ruler of Wu has marched back into his own country.”

  Zhuge Liang listened to the end; then, without a word, he fell in a swoon. He recovered after a time, but he was broken.

  He said, “My mind is all in confusion. This is a return of my old illness, and I am doomed.”

  Ill as he was, Zhuge Liang that night went forth from his tent to scan the heavens and study the stars. They filled him with fear.

  He returned and said to Jiang Wei, “My life may end at any moment.”

  “Why do you say such a thing?”

  “Just now in the Triumvirate constellation the Guest Star was twice as bright as usual, while the Host Star was darkened; the supporting stars were also obscure. With such an aspect I know my fate.”

  “If the aspect be as malignant as you say, why not pray in order to avert it?” replied Jiang Wei.

  “I am in the habit of
praying,” replied Zhuge Liang, “but I know not the will of God. However, prepare me forty-nine guards and let each have a black flag. Dress them in black and place them outside my tent. Then will I from within my tent invoke the Seven Stars of the North. If my master-lamp remain alight for seven days, then is my life to be prolonged for twelve years. If the lamp goes out, then I am to die. Keep all idlers away from the tent and let a couple of guards bring me what is necessary.”

  Jiang Wei prepared as directed. It was then the eighth month, mid-autumn, and the Milky Way was brilliant with scattered jade. The air was perfectly calm, and no sound was heard.

  The forty-nine men were brought up and spaced out to guard the tent, while within Zhuge Liang prepared incense and offerings. On the floor of the tent he arranged seven lamps, and, outside these, forty-nine smaller lamps. In the midst he placed the lamp of his own fate.

  This done, he prayed:

  “Zhuge Liang, born into an age of trouble, would willingly have grown old in retirement. But His Majesty, Liu Bei the Glorious Emperor, sought him thrice and confided to him the heavy responsibility of guarding his son. He dared not do less than spend himself to the utmost in such a task, and he pledged himself to destroy the rebels. Suddenly the star of his leadership has declined, and his life now nears its close. He has humbly indited a declaration on this silk piece to the Great Unknowable and now hopes that He will graciously listen and extend the number of his days that he may prove his gratitude to his prince and be the savior of the people, restore the old state of the empire and establish eternally the Han sacrifices. He dares not make a vain prayer; this is from his heart.”

  This prayer ended, in the solitude of his tent he awaited the dawn.

  Next day, ill as he was, he did not neglect his duties, although he spat blood continually. All day he labored at his plans, and at night he paced the magic steps, the steps of seven stars of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.

  Sima Yi remained still on the defensive.

  One night as he sat gazing up at the sky and studying its aspect, he suddenly turned to Xiahou Ba, saying, “A leadership star has just lost position; surely Zhuge Liang is ill and will soon die. Take a reconnoitering party to the Wuzhang Hills and find out. If you see signs of confusion do not attack; it means that Zhuge Liang is ill. I shall take the occasion to smite hard.”

  Xiahou Ba left with an army.

  It was the sixth night of Zhuge Liang's prayers, and the lamp of his fate still burned brightly. He began to feel a secret joy. Presently Jiang Wei entered and watched the ceremonies. He saw Zhuge Liang was loosening his hair, his hand holding a sword, his heels stepping on Ursa Major and Ursa Minor to hold the leadership star.

  Suddenly a great shouting was heard outside, and immediately Wei Yan dashed in, crying, “The Wei soldiers are upon us!”

  In his haste Wei Yan had knocked over and extinguished the Lamp of Fate.

  Zhuge Liang threw down the sword and sighed, saying, “Life and death are foreordained; no prayers can alter them.”

  Wei Yan fell to the earth and craved forgiveness. Jiang Wei got angry and drew his sword to slay the unhappy soldier.

  Nought is under man's control,

  Nor can he with fate contend.

  The next chapter will unfold what happened.

  CHAPTER 104. A Falling Star: The Prime Minister Ascends To Heaven; A Wooden Statue: The Commander-in-Chief Is Terrified.

  The unhappy Wei Yan did not suffer the edge of the sword, for Zhuge Liang stayed the stroke, saying, “It is my fate; not his fault.”

  So Jiang Wei put up his sword, and Zhuge Liang sank wearily upon his couch.

  “Sima Yi thinks I am dead, and he sent these few troops to make sure. Go ye and drive them off,” said he.

  Wei Yan left the tent and led out a small party to drive away the troops of Wei, who fled as they appeared. He chased them to more than seven miles and returned. Then Zhuge Liang sent Wei Yan to his own camp and bade him keep a vigilant lookout.

  Presently Jiang Wei came in, went up to the sick man's couch, and asked how he felt.

  Zhuge Liang replied, “My death is very near. My chief desire has been to spend myself to the utmost to restore the Hans and lead a glorious return of the Hans to their capital, but Heaven decrees it otherwise. I have never ceased from my studies. I have written a book in twenty-four chapters, 104,112 words, treating the Eight Needfuls, the Seven Cautions, the Six Fears, and the Five Dreads of war. But among all those about me there is no one fit to receive it and carry on my work save you. I pray you not to despise it.”

  He gave the treatise to Jiang Wei, who received it sobbing.

  “I have also a plan for a multiple crossbow, which I have been unable to execute. The weapon shoots ten bolts of eight inches length at every discharge. The sketches are quite ready, and the weapons can be made according to them.”

  Jiang Wei took the papers with a deep bow.

  The dying man continued, “There is no part of Shu that causes anxiety, save the Yinping Mountains. That must be carefully guarded. It is protected naturally by its lofty precipices, but it will surely be the cause of great losses.”

  Next Zhuge Liang sent for Ma Dai, to whom he gave certain whispered instructions, and then said, “You are to follow out my instructions after my death.”

  Soon after, Yang Yi entered the tent and went to the couch. He received a silken bag containing certain secret orders.

  As Zhuge Liang gave it to him, he said, “After my death, Wei Yan will turn traitor. When that happens and the army is in danger, you will find herein what to do.”

  Just as these arrangements were finished, Zhuge Liang fell into a swoon, from which he did not revive till the evening. Then he set himself to compose a memorial to the Latter Ruler.

  When this reached the Latter Ruler, he was greatly alarmed and at once sent High Counselor Li Fu to visit and confer with the dying minister.

  Li Fu traveled quickly to the Wuzhang Hills and was led to the tent of the Commander-in-Chief. He delivered the Latter Ruler's command and inquired after the sick man's welfare.

  Zhuge Liang wept, and he replied, “Unhappily I am dying and leaving my task incomplete. I am injuring my country's policy and am in fault to the world. After my death you must aid the Emperor in perfect loyalty, and see that the old policy is continued, and the rules of government maintained. Do not lightly cast out the people I have employed. My plans of campaign have been confided to Jiang Wei, who can continue my policy for the service of the state. But my hour draws near, and I must write my testament.”

  Li Fu listened, and then took his leave. Zhuge Liang made one final effort to carry out his duties. He rose from his couch, was helped into a small carriage and thus made a round of inspection of all the camps and posts. But the cold autumn wind chilled him to the bone.

  “I shall never again lead the army against the rebels,” said he. “O Azure Heaven, when will this regret end?”

  Zhuge Liang returned to his tent. He became rapidly weaker and called Yang Yi to his bedside.

  Said he, “Ma Dai, Wang Ping, Liao Hua, Zhang Yi, Zhang Ni may be depended on to the death. They have fought many campaigns and borne many hardships; they should be retained in the public service. After my death let everything go on as before, but the army is to be gradually withdrawn. You know the tactics to be followed, and I need say little. My friend Jiang Wei is wise and brave; set him to guard the retreat.”

  Yang Yi received these orders, weeping.

  Next, writing materials were brought in and the dying minister set himself to write his testament. It is here given in substance:

  “Life and death are the common lot, and fate cannot be evaded. Death is at hand, and I desire to prove my loyalty to

  the end. I, thy servant Zhuge Liang, dull of parts, was born into a difficult age, and it fell to my lot to guide military operations. I led a northern expedition, but failed to win complete success. Now sickness has laid hold upon me and death approaches, so that I shall be un
able to accomplish my task. My sorrow is inexpressible.

  “I desire Your Majesty to cleanse your heart and limit your desires, to practice self-control and to love the people, to maintain a perfectly filial attitude toward your late father and to be benevolent to all the world. Seek out the recluse scholars that you may obtain the services of the wise and good; repel the wicked and depraved that your moral standard may be exalted.

  “To my household belong eight hundred mulberry trees and a hundred acres of land; thus there is ample provision for my family. While I have been employed in the service of the state, my needs have been supplied from official sources, but I have not contrived to make any additions to the family estate. At my death I shall not leave any increased possessions, even an excess roll of silk, that may cause Your Majesty to suspect that I have wronged you.”

  Having composed this document, the dying man turned again to Yang Yi, saying, “Do not wear mourning for me, but make a large coffer and therein place my body, with seven grains of rice in my mouth. Place a lamp at my feet and let my body move with the army as I was wont to do. If you refrain from mourning, then my leadership star will not fall, for my inmost soul will ascend and hold it in place. So long as my star retains its place, Sima Yi will be fearsome and suspicious.

  “Let the army retreat, beginning with the rearmost division; send it away slowly, one camp at a time. If Sima Yi pursues, array the army and offer battle, turn to meet him and beat the attack. Let him approach till he is very near and then suddenly display the wooden image of myself that I have had carved, seated in my chariot in the midst of the army, with the generals right and left as usual. And you will frighten Sima Yi away.”

  Yang Yi listened to these words intently and without remark. That night Zhuge Liang was carried into the open and gazed up at the sky.

  “That is my star,” said he, pointing to one that seemed to be losing its brilliancy and to be tottering in its place. Zhuge Liang's lips moved as if he muttered a spell. Presently he was borne into his tent and for a time was oblivious of all about him.