The story continues: the Pilgrim Sun shook out his divine might, gripped his iron cudgel, rose into the air on auspicious light, and hailed the monster head-on: "What evil demon are you, and where do you mean to run riot?"
The monster shouted back in a harsh voice: "We are none other than the vanguard under Grand King Sai Taishui of the Xiezhi Cave on the Unicorn Mountain. By the great king's command I have come to this kingdom for two palace maids, to wait upon Lady Golden Sage. Who are you, that dare question me?"
[Translator's note: the xiezhi is a mythical one-horned beast of justice.]
"I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong," said the Pilgrim. "I am escorting the Tang monk of the East to worship the Buddha in the Western Heaven, and passing through this kingdom I learned that you pack of demons bullies its lord. So I have come to display my powers, put the state in order, and sweep the wicked away. I was just wondering where to find you—and here you come delivering up your own life!"
The creature, too ignorant to know what was good for him, leveled his long spear and stabbed at the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim raised his iron cudgel and met him face to face. What a battle this was, there in midair! The cudgel is the dragon palace's sea-subduing treasure; the spear is but common iron, thrice-smelted among men. How can a mortal weapon rival an immortal one? One brush against it and its spirit drains away. The Great Sage is an immortal of the Great Monad; the demon is the spawn of evil mischief. How can a goblin approach a righteous man? The moment rectitude appears, evil itself goes out. That one churns wind and sprays earth to frighten the royal lord; this one treads mist and mounts clouds, veiling sun and moon.
They open their stances and wager victory and defeat—whoever lacks the skill would never dare boast himself a hero! Still it is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven who proves the stronger: with a crack! one blow of the cudgel snaps the spear in two. The demon, whose spear the Pilgrim had shattered with a single stroke of his iron cudgel, panicked for his life, swung the wind around, and fled westward in defeat.
The Pilgrim did not chase him. He brought down his cloud and came to the mouth of the underground chamber beneath the Demon-Repelling Tower, calling: "Master, come out with His Majesty—the monster has been driven off."
Only then did Tang Sanzang, supporting the king by the arm, come up out of the chamber with him; they saw the whole sky clear and bright, without a breath of demonic vapor.
The king went straight to the banquet table, took up ewer and cup with his own hands, filled a golden goblet to the brim, and presented it to the Pilgrim, saying: "Divine monk, accept this poor thanks! Accept this poor thanks!"
The Pilgrim had the goblet in his hand and had not yet made reply when officers came rushing in from outside the court gate to report: "Fire has broken out at the West Gate!"
At the news the Pilgrim flung the golden goblet, wine and all, up into the sky; with a ringing clang the goblet came down to earth.
The king was flustered. He bowed low with clasped hands and said: "Divine monk, forgive me! Forgive me! The fault is mine! By rights I should have invited you up to the hall to render thanks, but because this informal wine was at hand, I offered it on the spot. And now you have thrown the cup away—surely that is not a sign you take offense?"
"With no such meaning! With no such meaning!" the Pilgrim said, laughing. Presently more officers came to report: "What rain! The fire that broke out at the West Gate has just been put out by a great downpour—and the water running all down the streets reeks of wine!" The Pilgrim laughed again:
"Your Majesty saw me throw the cup and thought I was offended—far from it. That demon fled westward in defeat, and because I did not chase him, he loosed his fires. This cup of wine is what I used to quench his demon fire and save the households inside and outside the West City. What other meaning could there be?"
The king's delight and reverence grew tenfold. He invited Sanzang and his whole party up to the treasure hall, and was even minded to yield his throne and abdicate the kingdom to them.
"Your Majesty," said the Pilgrim with a laugh, "that demon just now gave himself out as the vanguard under Sai Taishui, sent to fetch palace maids. Now that he has been beaten and gone back, he is sure to report it to that rascal, and that rascal is sure to come and contend with me. I fear that if he musters his host all at once, the common people will once more be frightened and hurt, and Your Majesty terrified too. I mean to go out and meet him, seize him right there in midair, and bring back your holy queen. Only I do not know which way to go—from here to his mountain cave, how far is the road?"
"I once sent scouts and horsemen there to spy out his movements," said the king. "The round trip takes more than fifty days of travel. It lies to the south, some three thousand li and more from here."
At this the Pilgrim called out: "Bajie, Sha Monk, guard the master here—old Sun is off!" The king caught hold of him and said: "Divine monk, take a day's ease at least! Let me have some dry provisions and toasted grain made ready, give you some silver for the road, and choose you a fast horse—then you may go."
"Your Majesty speaks the talk of men who cross mountains and turn ridges afoot," said the Pilgrim, laughing. "I'll not deceive you: for a road of three thousand li like this, old Sun could pour wine into the cup, and before the wine went cold, make the round trip."
"Divine monk," said the king, "don't take offense at my frankness. That face of yours looks for all the world like an ape's—how can you have magic enough to travel so?"
"Though this body of mine is numbered among the apes," said the Pilgrim, "from boyhood I broke open the road of life and death. I visited every quarter for an enlightened master till one handed down the Way to me, and before the mountain I cultivated dawn and dusk without pause. Heaven for a canopy and Earth for a furnace, I rolled the two medicines, Crow and Hare, round as one. Gathering yin and yang, I made water and fire intermingle; in a moment I broke clean through the Mystic Pass. Wholly I leaned on the Plough's conveying power, and trusted to the Dipper's handle to shift my steps. Retiring to the furnace and advancing the fire, always precisely in season; drawing out the lead and adding mercury, the one attending the other. I gathered the Five Elements till Creation quickened, and harmonized the Four Images at their allotted times. The two breaths returned into the span of the Yellow Way; the three families met upon the road of the golden elixir. When I had grasped the Law it filled my every limb, and my native somersaults seem divinely aided. One leap clears the Taihang range; one bound crosses the Cloud-Riding Ford. What care I for sheer ridges by the thousand, or the Long River's hundred and more? Only because my transformations nothing can bar—one bound covers 108,000 li!"
Hearing this, the king was startled and delighted at once. Smiling broadly, he held out a cup of royal wine to the Pilgrim and said: "Divine monk, you have far to go and will toil; take this cup as a token of my regard."
But the Great Sage's whole heart was set on subduing the demon—where had he a heart for wine? He only said: "Set it down, set it down. When I come back from this errand, then I'll drink." What a Pilgrim! The word "go" was scarcely out of his mouth when, with a whistle of wind, he vanished without a trace.
The king and all his court were struck dumb with amazement—but no more of that.
The story continues: the Pilgrim sprang aloft, and soon a high mountain loomed up, blocking the misty horizon. He brought down his cloud and stood upon the very summit, looking carefully round him. What a mountain!
It pierces the sky and sprawls across the land; it hinders the sun and breeds the clouds. Where it pierces the sky, sharp peaks stand crowding; where it sprawls across the land, far ranges stretch unending. What hinders the sun are the dense pines on the ridge; what breeds the clouds are the jagged rocks beneath the cliffs. The dense pines are green through the four seasons and eight terms; the jagged rocks are unchanged through a thousand years and ten thousand ages. In the woods one hears night apes cry at whiles; in the ravines demon pythons pass as a common thing. The mountain birds call with choking notes; the mountain beasts roar and howl. River-deer and elk go scurrying in pairs and troops; mountain crows and magpies fly thick in flocks and squadrons. Mountain grasses and flowers past all seeing; mountain peaches and mountain fruits fresh in their season. Though its perilous steeps are past walking, it is the hermitage where demon immortals hide away.
The Great Sage could never gaze his fill of it. He was just about to search out the cave mouth when, from a hollow of the mountain, firelight came blazing forth. In an instant red flames leapt against the sky, and out of the red flames rose a stream of foul smoke, viler than the fire itself. What smoke! Just look:
Sparks of fire burst forth like ten thousand golden lamps; Tongues of flame fly like a thousand red rainbows.
That smoke was no chimney smoke, no smoke of grass and wood: it came in five colors—blue, red, white, black, and yellow. It would sear the pillars outside the South Gate of Heaven; it would scorch the roof-beams of the Hall of Divine Mists. It could roast the beasts in their lairs, hide and all, and singe every feather from the birds of the woods. Seeing smoke so vicious as this, how was one to enter the deep mountains and subdue the monster king?
The Great Sage was still quailing when a wall of sand burst forth from the mountain. What sand! It truly veiled the heavens and blotted out the sun. Just look:
Drifting and massing, it spreads to the sky's far edge; Darkling and murky, it blankets the whole great earth. Fine dust everywhere blinds the gazer's eyes; Coarse ash rolls through every valley like sesame seed. Herb-gathering immortal boys lose sight of their companions; The woodcutting fellows cannot find their way home. Though a bright pearl shone in your very hand, The blast would soon dazzle your eyes with flowers.
The Pilgrim was so busy gazing and marveling that sand and ash drifted into his nostrils; they tickled so that he sneezed twice. At once he turned, reached beneath the rocks, felt out two goose-egg pebbles, and plugged his nose with them; then he shook himself and changed into a sparrowhawk that darts through fire. Flying into the midst of the smoke and flame, he made several darting passes—and the sand and ash were gone, and the smoke and fire were quenched. Hastily he showed his true form and came down.
Looking about again, he heard the ding-dong ringing of a bronze gong, and said to himself: "I have gone astray! This is no place where demons dwell. That gong sounds like a courier's gong—this must be the great high road across the kingdom, with a courier going down to deliver dispatches. Wait till old Sun goes and asks him."
As he went along, he suddenly spied a little fiend, carrying a yellow flag, a dispatch bag on his back, beating a gong and hurrying along fast as flight. The Pilgrim laughed: "So it is this rascal clanging the gong. I don't know what letter he carries—let old Sun go and have a listen."
What a Great Sage! He shook himself and changed into a tiny gadfly, and alighted as lightly as could be on the fiend's dispatch bag. There he heard the little demon beating his gong and droning and muttering to himself:
"Our great king is too cruel-hearted by half. Three years ago he carried off the queen, Lady Golden Sage, from the Kingdom of Zhuzi by force, but he has never had the luck to lay a finger on her, and the only ones to suffer are the palace maids sent to take the blame. Two came, and he used them to death; four came, and he used them to death too. The year before last he demanded maids, last year he demanded them again, this year he demands them—and this year he has run into an adversary. That vanguard sent to fetch the palace maids has been beaten by some Pilgrim Sun or other, and no maids are to be had. Our great king is in a fury over it and means to make war on their kingdom, and he has sent me to deliver some challenge to battle. Once this is done, that king had best not fight; fight, and he is sure to lose. Our great king will loose smoke, fire, and flying sand, and not one of that king's ministers or people can hope to live. Then we shall seize his city: the great king will style himself emperor, and we shall all be his ministers. There'll be posts big and small for every one of us—only, as sure as anything, Heaven's justice will never allow it!"
The Pilgrim heard him out and rejoiced in secret: "So there are demons with a conscience! Those last two lines about Heaven's justice never allowing it—isn't that the mark of a good one? But 'the queen has never had the luck to be touched'—that I do not understand. Let me go ask him about it."
With a chirr of his wings he flew off the fiend, turned up the road ahead, and after ten-odd li shook himself and changed once more—this time into a little Daoist novice:
His hair gathered into two knotted tufts, His body wrapped in a hundred-patched robe. In his hands he taps the fish-drum and clappers; From his mouth pours a ballad of the Way.
Rounding the mountainside, he met the little fiend face to face, raised his hands in salute, and said: "Sir, where are you bound? What dispatch are you carrying?"
The little fiend, as if he had known him all his life, stopped his gong-mallet and returned the greeting with a grin:
"My great king has sent me to the Kingdom of Zhuzi with a challenge to battle."
The Pilgrim took up his words and asked: "And that lady of Zhuzi—has she ever paired with your great king?"
"Ever since she was carried off, the year before last," said the fiend, "an immortal appeared on the spot and presented a five-colored immortal robe, for the lady of the Golden Sage Palace to wear as her bridal gown. From the moment she put it on, needles and prickles grew all over her body, and our great king dare not so much as lay a finger on her. If he touches her ever so lightly, the palm of his hand is stabbed with pain. Why, we do not know; but from first to last he has never come near her. This morning he sent the vanguard to demand palace maids to serve her, and the vanguard was beaten by some Pilgrim Sun or other. The great king is raging over it, so he sent me down with the challenge; tomorrow he joins battle with them."
"Why is the great king so vexed?" asked the Pilgrim. "Vexed! He is at it right now," said the fiend. "You might go sing him a ballad of the Way and ease his gloom a little."
The Pilgrim clasped his hands, slipped away, and left him; the fiend went on beating his gong as before. Then the Pilgrim turned murderous: he whipped out his cudgel, swung round, and brought it down once on the back of the fiend's head. Alas! The head was smashed to pulp, blood and brains spurted out, the skin split and the neck snapped—and his life was gone!
He put away his cudgel, then repented: "Too hasty by half! I never asked the wretch's name. Oh well!"
He took the letter of challenge from the body and hid it in his sleeve, and stowed the yellow flag and bronze gong in the grass beside the road. As he handled the corpse, with a clink something showed at its waist: a gold-inlaid identity tablet. On the tablet were written words that read: "One trusted underling, Come-and-Go by name. Short of figure, pockmarked face, no beard. To be worn at all times; without the tablet, he is a counterfeit."
The Pilgrim laughed: "So the rascal's name is Come-and-Go—and with this one stroke of the cudgel, Come-and-Go has gone for good!"
He untied the identity tablet and buckled it round his own waist. He would have flung the corpse down, but then bethought himself of the virulence of that smoke and fire, and dared not yet go look for the cave. So he raised his cudgel, thrust it once into the little fiend's chest, hoisted the body into the air, and headed straight back for the kingdom—this would serve to report a first victory.
Watch him, communing with himself the while; then with a whistle of wind he was at the border of the kingdom.
Bajie was before the Golden Chimes Hall, guarding the master, when he happened to look back and see the Pilgrim in midair carrying a demon skewered on his cudgel. He grumbled: "Hai! Nothing to it, this trade! If old Zhu had known, I'd have gone and fetched him myself—wouldn't that have counted me in for a share of the credit?"
Before he had finished, the Pilgrim brought down his cloud and flung the demon at the foot of the steps.
Bajie ran up and gave the corpse one rake: "This is old Zhu's doing!" "What deed of yours?" asked the Pilgrim. "Don't you try to cheat me—I have witnesses!" said Bajie. "Can't you see my rake has punched nine holes in him?" "Look again," said the Pilgrim, "and see whether he has a head or not." Bajie looked, and laughed: "So he's been headless all along! No wonder he never budged however I raked him."
"Where is my master?" asked the Pilgrim. "In the hall, chatting with the king," said Bajie. "Go and ask him out here." Bajie hurried up into the hall and gave a nod; Sanzang rose at once, came down from the hall, and met the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim tucked the letter of challenge into Sanzang's sleeve and said: "Keep this, Master, and don't let the king see it yet."
Hardly were the words out when the king too came down from the hall to meet the Pilgrim, saying: "Divine monk, Venerable Sun, you are back! How went the demon-taking?" The Pilgrim pointed with his finger: "Is that not the demon at the foot of the steps? Old Sun has done him to death." The king looked and said: "A demon corpse it is, beyond doubt—but it is not Sai Taishui. I have seen Sai Taishui twice with my own eyes: eighteen feet tall, shoulders five spans broad, a face like golden light and a voice like a thunderclap—he is nothing like this wretched runt."
"Your Majesty knows him at a glance—indeed it is not he," said the Pilgrim with a laugh. "This is a little message-bearing fiend who ran into old Sun; I did him in first and carried him back on my cudgel, to claim the first honors."
The king was overjoyed: "Good! Good! Good! That deserves first credit! From this court I have often sent men to spy him out, and never once gotten a certain answer. One expedition of the divine monk, and you bring a demon home—what true magic power!" He called: "Warm wine! Let us toast the Venerable One's victory!"
"Wine is a small matter," said the Pilgrim. "Let me ask Your Majesty this: when Lady Golden Sage parted from you, did she leave behind any keepsake? Give me a little of it."
At the words "keepsake" the king felt as if knives and swords were gouging his heart; he could not hold back, but cried out aloud and wept, saying:
"Of old, upon the festival that kept the height of glowing summer, The dread fiend of the year raised high his savage cry. He seized my queen to be the bride of his mountain stronghold; I gave her up to save my people's lives. No word of meeting and no word of parting passed between us— No long pavilion on that road, no short one either! Her keepsake, her fragrant purse, has left no shadow; To this day she is torn from me, and I stand desolate and alone!"
"Your Majesty—she is within reach; why give way to grief?" said the Pilgrim. "Since the lady left no keepsake, was there anything in the palace she held dear? Give me a piece of that."
"What would you do with it?" asked the king. "That demon king has real magic power," said the Pilgrim. "I have seen him loose smoke, fire, and sand—he is truly hard to take. And even if I took him, I fear the lady would find my face a stranger's and would not follow me home. I must have one thing she loved in her daily life; then she will trust me, and I can bring her back with me. That is why I must take it along."
"In the Zhaoyang Palace, up on the dressing tower," said the king, "there is a pair of golden bracelets. They were worn on Lady Golden Sage's own wrists; but because that Dragon-Boat day she was to bind on the five-colored threads, she slipped them off and never put them on again. They are among her dearest things, and they lie now in her dressing case. Since she met with this parting I cannot bear the sight of them: one glimpse is like a glimpse of her jade face, and my sickness grows the heavier for it."
"Never mind all that," said the Pilgrim. "Just have the golden bracelets fetched. If you can bear to part with them, give me both; if not, let me take one only." The king then bade the Lady of the Jade Palace fetch them; she brought them out and handed them to the king.
At the sight of them the king cried out several times, "O my lady, who knew my pains, who warmed to my warmth!"—and then passed them to the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim took them and slipped them over his arm.
What a Great Sage—not even waiting to drink the victory wine! He mounted his somersault cloud, and with a whistle of wind was once more upon the Unicorn Mountain. He had no heart for scenery, but went straight to seek out the cave. As he went along he heard the hubbub of many voices, and halted, fixing his eyes to look: it was the gatekeepers of the Xiezhi Cave, captains great and small, some five hundred of them, standing there:
In bristling ranks they are arrayed, close shoulder to shoulder. In bristling ranks they grip shield and spear, glittering in the sunlight; close shoulder to shoulder they spread their banners, fluttering and flashing in the wind. Tiger generals and bear masters, adept at transformations; leopard-heads and tiger-cub chieftains, strutting their spirit. The gray wolves are fierce and charging; the otter-elephants are gallant and bold. Cunning hares and crafty deer twirl sword and halberd; long serpents and great pythons carry saber and bow. The orangutans can understand the speech of men, and marshal the lines and pitch the camps, reading every shift of the wind.
The Pilgrim saw them and dared not go forward; he slipped away and turned back along the old road. Why did he turn back, do you ask? Not that he feared them. He went to the place where he had killed the little fiend, dug out the yellow flag and the bronze gong, faced the wind, knotted his fingers in the magic signs, summoned the shape before his mind's eye—and shook himself into the very likeness of Come-and-Go. Banging away at his gong, he strode forward with great steps, straight up to the Xiezhi Cave. Just as he was about to take in the prospect of the cave, he heard an orangutan call out: "Come-and-Go, you're back?"
The Pilgrim could only answer: "Back I am." "Quick, then!" said the orangutan. "The great king is waiting in the Skinning Pavilion for your report."
At these words the Pilgrim stretched his legs and, gong a-clatter, marched straight in through the front gate. Looking about as he went, he saw stone chambers and empty halls set against sheer cliffs and sliced walls, with jade flowers and fairy grasses to left and right, and ancient cypresses and towering pines before and behind.
Before he knew it he was within the second gate. Suddenly he lifted his head and saw a pavilion bright with eight latticed windows, and in the middle of the pavilion a folding chair inlaid with gold; on the chair sat bolt upright a demon king, of truly evil aspect. Just look at him:
Blazing rosy light streams from his crown; A towering aura of slaughter bursts from his breast. The fangs outside his mouth rank like keen blades; The scorched hair at his temples emits red smoke. The bristles on his muzzle stand out like planted arrows; The hair over all his body piles like layered felt. His eyes start out like bronze bells, out-blazing the demon star; The iron mace in his hand seems to scrape the very sky.
The Pilgrim, seeing him, put on all his arrogance toward the demon: he offered not the least show of courtesy, but turned his face toward the outside and simply went on beating his gong.
"You're back?" asked the demon king. The Pilgrim did not answer. He asked again: "Come-and-Go, you're back?" Still no reply. The demon king stepped forward and seized him by the arm: "How is it you go on clashing that gong when you are home at last? I ask and you don't answer—what's the meaning of this?"
The Pilgrim flung the gong down on the ground: "What's the meaning! What's the meaning! I told you I wouldn't go, and you made me go all the same. When I got there, what should I see but countless men and horses drawn up in battle array, and the moment they clapped eyes on me they all shouted 'Seize the demon! Seize the demon!' They grabbed me and hauled me, tugged me and dragged me, and hauled me into the city before the king, and the king ordered me beheaded. Luckily the two benches of counselors said that when two houses contend, the messenger is never beheaded, and so they spared me. They took the letter of challenge, marched me back outside the city, gave me thirty strokes on the legs before the army, and let me come back with the answer. Their host will be along soon enough, to give battle to you here."
"So you suffered for it," said the demon king. "No wonder you said never a word when I asked."
"Just so," said the Pilgrim. "I was minding my bruises—that's why I couldn't answer." "How many men and horses did they have?" asked the demon king. "I was scared out of my wits, and beaten half-dead into the bargain—how was I to count their troops! All I saw was weapons ranked in bristling rows:
Bows, arrows, sabers, spears, armor and jerkins; shields, swords, halberds, and streamered banners. Throwing-spears and moon-spades, helmets and mail; great axes, round shields, and iron caltrops. Long staves and short cudgels; steel forks, matchlocks, and helmets to crown them. Shod and booted, head-armed and padded in quilted coats; bamboo whips, sleeve-crossbows, and bronze hammers."
The king heard it and laughed: "Nothing to fear! Nothing to fear! Weapons such as those, one blast of fire turns them all to nothing. Go you now and report it to Lady Golden Sage, and bid her not to grieve. This morning, when she heard me swearing to go out and fight, she wept and would have none of it. Go tell her now that the men and horses there are doughty and must surely beat me—it will ease her heart for a while."
At this the Pilgrim was overjoyed: "That hits old Sun's meaning exactly!" Watch him—it was as if he knew the way by long habit: round the corner gate, through hall after hall. Within, all was lofty chambers and towering mansions, quite unlike the front of the cave, until he came to the palace at the rear, where from afar he saw a splendid many-colored gate: the dwelling of Lady Golden Sage.
Going straight in, he saw two ranks of fox and deer spirits, every one of them made up in the form of a beautiful woman, standing in attendance to left and right; and in the very center sat the lady, chin resting on her hand, tears dropping from her eyes. Truly she had a tender jade face, lovely and alluring:
Too listless to dress her hair, her raven chignon hangs loose; Too heartsick for adornment, she wears neither pin nor ring. No powder on her face—the rouge lies cold and dull; No oil on her hair—the cloudlike tresses all a-frizzle. She pouts her cherry lips, biting hard on her silver teeth; She knits her moth-eyebrows, tears drowning her starry eyes. Her one whole heart remembers only the king of Zhuzi; For one moment she could hate that she cannot slip the net of Heaven, the snare of Earth. Truly it is: from of old the fair have mostly been ill-starred; Languid and wordless, she faces the east wind!
The Pilgrim stepped forward, made a monastic salutation, and said: "Your humble servant's respects." The lady said: "What a loutish, unmannerly beast! When I dwelt in the Kingdom of Zhuzi, sharing glory and splendor with my king, the grand tutors and prime ministers, at the mere sight of me, cast themselves flat in the dust and dared not look up. How dare this wild monster call out his 'respects' to me? Where ever did such a boor come from?"
The waiting maids came forward: "Be not angry, Madam. He is one of the great king's trusted underlings, Come-and-Go by name. It was he who was sent with the challenge this morning." Hearing this, the lady mastered her anger and asked: "You carried the challenge—did you reach the borders of Zhuzi?" "I bore the letter straight into the city," said the Pilgrim, "up into the Golden Chimes Hall, into the very presence of the king, and I have brought back his answer."
"What said the king, when he saw you face to face?" asked the lady. "The king's talk of war and resistance, his dispositions of troops and battle arrays, I have just now reported to the great king," said the Pilgrim. "Only, the king showed that he yearns for your ladyship, and there is one word near his heart that I have come especially to deliver. But with all these attendants about, this is no place to speak of it."
At this the lady dismissed the two ranks of fox and deer spirits.
The Pilgrim shut the palace door, gave his face one wipe, showed his true form, and said to the lady: "Do not fear me. I am a monk of the great Tang empire of the East, sent to the Thunderclap Monastery in the land of India of the great Western Heaven, to see the Buddha and beg for the scriptures. My master is the Tang emperor's sworn brother Tang Sanzang, and I am his eldest disciple, Sun Wukong. Passing through your kingdom to have our travel rescripts stamped, I saw your sovereign and his court post a notice seeking a physician, and it was I who brought my thrice-broken arm to bear and cured his sickness of longing. At the banquet they spread to thank me, as we drank, he told how you had been carried off by the demon; and since I can subdue dragons and tame tigers, they begged me to come catch the monster and deliver you home. The one who beat the vanguard was I; the one who killed the little fiend was I too. Seeing how fierce things were outside their gates, I changed myself into the likeness of Come-and-Go and risked my body to come here and bring you word."
Hearing this, the lady sank into thought and said nothing.
The Pilgrim took out the golden bracelets and offered them up with both hands: "If you do not believe me, look—where did these come from?"
At the sight of them the lady's tears fell; she came down from her seat and bowed her thanks: "Venerable One, if you can indeed deliver me back to court, I shall never forget this great kindness to the end of my days!"
"Let me ask you first," said the Pilgrim: "that thing of his which looses fire, smoke, and sand—what treasure is it?" "What treasure indeed!" said the lady. "They are three golden bells. When he waves the first, there are three hundred zhang of flame to burn men; wave the second, and there are three hundred zhang of smoke to choke them; wave the third, and there are three hundred zhang of yellow sand to blind them. Smoke and fire are not so bad—it is the yellow sand that is deadliest: if it creeps into a person's nostrils, his life is forfeit."
"Formidable! Formidable!" said the Pilgrim. "I have tasted it—two sneezes it cost me. But where does he keep the bells?" "He would never put them down," said the lady. "He keeps them at his waist; walking, standing, sitting, lying, they never leave his body."
"If your heart is still with the Kingdom of Zhuzi, and you would meet your king again," said the Pilgrim, "then lay aside your sorrow and care for a while, put on a face of charm and gladness, and play the loving wife with him; get him to hand the bells over to you for safekeeping. When I find my chance I will steal them and subdue this monster—and then I can take you home, phoenix to phoenix with your true mate, to share peace together once more." The lady agreed to his plan.
The Pilgrim changed back into the trusted underling, opened the palace gate, and called in the waiting maids.
The lady called: "Come-and-Go, run quickly to the front pavilion and invite your great king here; I would speak with him."
What a Pilgrim! He answered with a cry, went straight to the Skinning Pavilion, and said to the demon: "Great King, the Palace Lady invites you." The demon king was delighted: "The lady does nothing but scold me as a rule—why this summons today?" "The lady asked me about the king of Zhuzi," said the Pilgrim, "and I told her he wants you no more, and that his kingdom has set up another queen. When she heard that, she gave up all her hoping—that is why she bade me invite you." The demon king was greatly pleased: "You are a useful one. When I have wiped out his kingdom, I shall make you a grand preceptor in constant attendance at court." The Pilgrim returned casual thanks and hurried with the demon king to the gate of the rear palace.
The lady welcomed him with a smiling face and reached out her hand to take his arm; but the demon king backed away, crying "I dare not! I dare not! Much as I treasure your ladyship's condescension, I fear the pain in my hands—I dare not come near."
"Be seated, Great King," said the lady, "and I will have a word with you." "Say whatever you have to say," said the demon king.
"I have been favored with your love, Great King, these three years," said the lady, "yet never once have we shared pillow or quilt. It must be a bond from some former life that joined us in this marriage—but who could have known that Your Majesty keeps me at arm's length, and will not treat me as a wife at all! When I was queen in Zhuzi, whenever some foreign state sent tribute of treasure, once the king had looked it over he always handed it to me for safekeeping. Here you have no treasures at all: you wear sable furs and eat bloody food—when did one ever see silk brocade, gold, or pearls? Nothing but hides to lie on and rugs to cover you. And even if you do have some treasure, because you keep me at a distance you let me neither see it nor keep it for you. For instance, I hear you have three bells—which must surely be a treasure—and yet you wear them walking and wear them sitting. Why not hand them to me for safekeeping, and take them out when you have need of them? Nothing wrong in that. We are husband and wife, after all; there ought to be some entrusting of heart to heart between us. If you will not trust me even so, what is this but keeping me outside?"
The demon king roared with laughter and made his apologies: "Your ladyship is right to reproach me—quite right! The treasure is here; today I hand it over to you to keep." And at once he lifted his garments to take it out.
The Pilgrim stood by, his eyes fixed and unblinking, watching the demon lift aside two or three layers of clothing: bound close against his body were the three bells.
He untied them, stuffed the mouths with cotton, wrapped them in a piece of leopard skin by way of a bundle, and handed them to the lady, saying: "A humble thing, but it must be kept with care—above all, never let it be shaken."
The lady took them in her hands: "I understand. They shall rest here upon my dressing table, where no one will shake them." She called: "Little ones, bring wine! The Great King and I will make merry together and drink a few cups." At this the waiting maids laid out fruits and dishes, set on the flesh of river-deer, elk, and hare, and poured out coconut wine to offer them. The lady put on all her most alluring airs, bewitching the sprite.
The Pilgrim Sun, meanwhile, worked his business on the side: he edged and sidled his way toward the dressing table, gently lifted away the three golden bells, moved off step by step, slipped out of the palace gate, and left the cave altogether. Coming to a lonely spot before the Skinning Pavilion, he unfolded the leopard skin to look: the middle bell was the size of a teacup, and the two at the ends the size of fists.
Not knowing their power, he pulled out the cotton stuffing—and at once, with a great clang, smoke, fire, and yellow sand came gushing out beyond all stopping, and the whole pavilion was blazing. The gatekeeping fiends, terrified, burst in a crowd into the rear palace and roused the demon king, who hastily shouted: "Go put out the fire! Put out the fire!" Coming out to look, he found it was Come-and-Go playing with the golden bells!
The demon king rushed up and bawled: "Thieving slave! So you steal my golden bells, my treasure, and fool about with them here!" He shouted: "Seize him! Seize him!"
Then the tiger generals, bear masters, leopard heads, tiger-cub chieftains, otter-elephants, gray wolves, crafty deer, cunning hares, long serpents, great pythons, and orangutans of the gate led all the fiends swarming in from every side. The Pilgrim lost his composure: he flung down the golden bells, showed his true form, whipped out the gold-banded As-You-Will cudgel, and spread his strokes, hacking wildly all about him as he pressed forward.
The demon king gathered up his treasure, passed the word of command—"Bar the front gate!"—and the fiends, hearing it, barred the gates who barred and fought who fought. The Pilgrim, hard put to it to escape, put away his cudgel, shook himself, and turned into a dazed housefly, stuck fast to a stone wall where there was no fire.
The fiends could find him nowhere, and ran to report: "Great King, the thief has escaped! The thief has escaped!"
"Did he go out through the gates?" asked the demon king. The fiends all said: "The front gates are locked and barred fast; he has not gone out." The demon king only said: "Search carefully!"
Some fetched water and splashed the fire; others searched with the closest care—but there was no trace of him.
The demon king raged: "What thief is this, with such audacity—changing into the likeness of Come-and-Go, coming in to make his report to my face, then keeping at my very side and stealing my treasure at the first chance! It is well he never carried it out of doors! If he had taken it out over the mountain and it met the wind of Heaven, what would become of us?"
The tiger general stepped forward: "Your vast fortune, Great King, is level with Heaven's, and our allotted span is not yet spent—that is how we came to detect him." The bear master stepped forward: "Great King, this thief is none other than that Sun Wukong who beat our vanguard. Doubtless he met Come-and-Go on the road, did him to death, took his yellow flag, gong, and identity tablet, changed into his likeness, and came here to cozen Your Majesty." "Just so! Just so!" said the demon king. "That stands to reason!" He called: "Little ones, search carefully and keep watch; on no account open the gates and let him slip away!" And this indeed was a case of:
Cleverness overreached and turned to clumsiness; What was done in play turned out in deadly earnest.
But how the Pilgrim Sun was to escape the demon's gates—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.