The Scarlet Hill/Part 1

by Frank Owen

 

Part I

Portrait of an Emperor

 

 

1.

A wise Emperor knows his troops; he holds to him the hearts of his people. Before his footprints, his subjects bow down in reverence. Such an Emperor was Ming Huang, Emperor of all China. His Palace at Changan sprawled over many thousand mows, that is, including the gardens, but then gardens always have been considered the most important rooms in Chinese homes whether they are hovels or palaces. No hut too small to shelter at least a few flowers. And so it was that the Imperial Palace at Changan wound in and out among fragrant gardens like a colorful dragon. The gardens were gaudy of hue and rich in moon bridges, marble gates and tiled paths. Even in autumn when the night wind was frost-tipped and the moon, stark and clear, shone with a biting cold light, many of the hardier flowers still bloomed as though reluctant to leave the garden that they loved.

The entrance to the palace was known as "The Facing the Sun Gate"; one of the smaller rooms to which the Emperor repaired to meditate and sip tea in solitude was called, "The Hall of Gathering Truth." And in the palace were jewels and gems of a value not to be reckoned; rich textiles and rugs; mirrors as clear as a crystal sea though they were wrought of copper, mirrors that reflected only what one wished them to reflect. The air was heavy with incense. Lanterns of infinite variety cast off a warm soft light, lanterns of adventure, mystery and romance. And there was jade of every color and hue, the hardest stone under the canopy of heaven, that miraculously preserves the body from decay. Screens of exquisite lacquer traceries, inlaid with silver and mother of pearl, carved ivory ornaments and paintings on silk and bamboo slips. All the wealth of China seemed gathered together in the Imperial Palace at Changan, with its turquoise, purple, blue, green and amber tiled halls, its stone-paved courtyards, and its myriads of lovely women chosen for their beauty as well as for their scholarship. All the maidens wore flowers twined in their hair, in accordance with the wishes of the Poet-Emperor, who was attuned to the rhythm of beauty whether it was in art, in poetry, in music or in the dancing of a girl with flower petal cheeks. Fantastically, he chose his generals only if they were good poets, and stranger still, the poet-generals scanned the enemy and found little difficulty in bringing them into tune. Understanding easily overcame brute force, as it must always do eventually. And yet Ming Huang hated war. He was weary of conquest.

"Let every man sweep the snow from his own door," he said, "and not trouble himself about the frost on his neighbor's tiles."

Sometimes, when a regiment of his soldiers on horseback left to put down a border uprising, he stood on the crest of the hill upon which was terraced the gardens of the palace and watched the speed at which the horsemen tore their way into the heart of distance. Though a conqueror, he was opposed to war, and yet he knew that as long as there are men there will be wars. But even when the last war is over, there will still be China.

He thought of the stories that were told in T'ang Annals of the "Harmony Clan," a patriarchal family with more than a thousand members who dwelt together without discord. In the family records there was no echo of quarrels. One of his predecessors, Emperor Kao Tsung, had visited the head of the clan. Though Kao Tsung was a great Emperor, he was unable to keep his palace in order. The petty quarrels, bickerings and intrigues would have filled ten thousand scrolls. So he was amazed to find such a family.

Impulsively he called on the little old man, the thin little old man whom a thousand relatives venerated. He forgot that he was an Emperor. He was fascinated by the power of this little wisp of a man.

"What is the secret by which so many people live without discord?" he asked.

For answer, the old man wrote a hundred characters on a bit of silk, and each represented the same word: "Forbearance."

In humility, the Emperor returned to his palace to discover that it was split like a battlefield into rival factions.

Ming Huang smiled as he thought of the story, but it was a smile without mirth. Since P'an Ku chiseled out the Universe had there ever been a year when all the world was at peace? He sighed as he walked down the hillside into his gardens where the rushing waters of a rivulet was like sweet poetry. What a waste of material it was. "And yet the Spirit, like the perennial spring of the valley, never dies."

He broke a gorgeous chrysanthemum from its stem and pressed it to his lips. One of the Palace Ladies walked near a bamboo bridge. Mei flowers were twined in her hair. Against the blue sky, she made a picture that was a voiceless poem. Near by there were willow trees, and where there are willow trees there are orioles, especially if there is water as well. Now a flock of them had gathered, heeding the call of their comrades, "Sik, sik, siki, tsac, tsac, tsac." How graceful they looked with their black foreheads, pointed bills, red legs and yellow wings. Ming Huang was very fond of orioles. Sometimes he called them, "The Golden Robed Gentlemen," or "The Singing Boys of the Red Tree."

As he watched them, the sight took his mind off more somber things. A thrush joined them. A thrush or two usually heeded that call to bathe with the orioles.

Many slender girls strolled in the garden, swaying gracefully. The breeze stirred the young bamboos which bent over the brook as though about to drink.

The Emperor sighed. In the garden at least, there was peace.

Not far away, Kao Li-shih, the Grand Eunuch, walked serenely among the flowers. Stalwart and strong, more than six and a half feet tall, he was powerful enough to throw any wrestler. He appeared like a rtian among men, and yet alas he could grow no beard. Had things been otherwise ordained, he might have been the father of many sons. Now it was too late, though it was not too late for Kao Li-shih to be an Elder Brother to the sons of the Emperor. Ming Huang was thankful that he had so worthy an administrator, for Kao was supreme master of three thousand eunuchs. His presence brought some measure of light to even the darkest moments. And yet he had once been accused of having a violent temper. Long before the accession of Ming Huang he had been sent up to the Palace during the extraordinary reign of the cruel Empress Wu How. Her refinements of torture reflected inventive genius. One of her favorites was to pour vinegar into the nostrils of her enemies. She had started as a concubine. Thereafter she schemed, murdered and mutilated until she was able to steal the very Empire. No one was strong enough to dispute her. When she gazed upon mighty Generals they became as impotent as eunuchs. Her eccentricities were legion. In the course of her reign she styled herself Sheng Shen Huang Ti which means "God Almighty." She insisted that nobody be allowed to say, "Her Majesty is as lovely as a lily." They were to say, "The lily is as lovely as Her Majesty."

Wu How spread the rumor that she was a Supreme Being with miraculous powers, yet when sickness overtook her she suffered as acutely as a rice gatherer dwelling in a grass hut. She tried to force flowers to grow at her command. For a test, she chose peonies. When she commanded them to bloom, they were deaf to her entreaties. She became so infuriated that she fell down, babbling incoherently. The parasites of the Court lifted her to her feet. Her Majesty had not fallen. The ground had swerved up.

But still the peonies remained serene. They would not bloom. Thereupon she issued a decree that every peony in the Empire was to be pulled up and burned, and that no peony should ever again be cultivated in China. But flowers care not for edicts. With each new season the peonies came again, like butterflies resting for a moment on a branch.

Nevertheless, despite her sulphuric character, Wu How ruled well. Her hand was strong and firm. She was a phenomenon that the fierce frontier tribes could not understand. Eventually they were subdued by the exaggerated stories they heard of her power. By her edict, officers of the Court were required to pass examinations in poetry.

Meanwhile she banished Kao Li-shih from the Imperial Palace. His temper was too violent; or could it have been because he was opposed to despotism? It is hard to cow a man six feet tall and with tremendous power, even though that power does not include the art of reproduction. A man does not need a beard to stand up for righteousness.

So Kao Li-shih was sent from the Court in disgrace. However, he was brought back when eventually Ming Huang came into power by the abdication of his father Li Tan, who had been named heir by Wu How. It had been through the efforts of Ming Huang that the tyrannical Empress had been overthrown.

The fumes of intrigue still spoiled the air when Ming Huang mounted the throne, so he beheaded a few of his relatives. The atmosphere was much improved. Nevertheless he was opposed to violence, though he was not opposed to its use if peace could be had by no other means. His first concern was the happiness of his people. The weak grew strong because he had their welfare at heart.

No man was so low in despair that he could not find the ear of his Emperor. Perhaps he was weary of the flagrant abuse of power which he had witnessed in the mad court of Wu How. Sometimes he walked incognito among his people. His blood was warmed by the praises of the government that he heard on every side.

When the harvest was abundant and there was a shortage of labor, he emptied the prisons of several hundred convicts who were awaiting the headsman's sword, in order that they might go into the fields and gather the rice. When the crops were in the granaries, the convicts returned to their cells. Not a man of them was missing. Whereupon, the Emperor freed them all.

"Men who keep their word," he said, "must keep their lives."

On another occasion as he walked through the bazaars of the city, he stopped to talk to a small boy. The child was carrying a toy, a tiny pigeon chariot. Ming Huang took him by the hand and they walked along like old friends.

As they parted, the boy gave Ming Huang the pigeon chariot.

The Emperor was touched. He patted the little boy's head.

"But you will need your lovely chariot," he said.

"No, no," said the boy. "You take it to play with. My father this morning bought me a hobby-horse."

The Emperor smiled. He took the chariot. How could he refuse so gracious a gift? However, as he did so, he slipped into the child's hand a round piece of jade upon which was the seal of "The Son of Heaven."

In great excitement, the child rushed home.

The father noticed he no longer had his toy.

"Where is your chariot?" he asked, bluntly.

"I gave it to a man," was the reply. "Have I not a hobby-horse?"

The father groaned at such wastage. "You are very foolish, my son."

"The big man gave me this." The pudgy fist opened, disclosing the glowing bit of jade on which was the great seal of the Emperor.

The father gazed on it with awe and reverence.

"I wanted to put it in my mouth and let it dissolve on my tongue. Then I thought you would like to see it."

Shocked, the father gasped, "Would you eat the seal of the Emperor?"

"You gave me jade powder when my stomach ached."

"The stomach ache large enough for such medicine as this does not exist."

"But my jade, my jade, let me have my jade!"

"I will let you have a monkey."

"Monkeys live in stables."

"Nevertheless, you shall have a monkey."

"I'm a boy, not a little horse."

"You are he upon whom the Emperor has smiled." As the father spoke, he bowed in reverence.

The boy was thinking very hard. "I'll take the monkey," he said. "He can sleep with my hobby-horse."

 

2.

But probably nothing contributed so much to the renown of Ming Huang as did the auspicious occasion when, at the very beginning of his long reign of forty-four years, he issued an edict closing the silk factories and forbidding the Palace Ladies to wear jewels or embroideries. There was an elaborate ceremony before a crowded Court when a fire was kindled in a huge bronze urn, after which the three thousand girls who made up the seraglio of Ming Huang, one by one tossed their rings and ear-rings into the flames. Afterwards the Emperor himself stepped down from his South-Facing throne, tore ruby and emerald rings from his fingers, then waited beside the urn. There were emissaries from India, from Japan and Persia, all with long, glum faces, forced to follow the dictates of the greatest Emperor under heaven. It would not do to incur the wrath of so mighty a monarch.

They knew that he was reputed to be a magnificent warrior. When he engaged in battle his opponent was vanquished at the start, even when it was in a battle of wits. He was both brilliant and powerful. They remembered the occasion when an Envoy from Ta-shih had appeared at the Court bringing presents of beautiful horses and a magnificent girdle inlaid with rare jade. He refused to bow before Ming Huang. His excuse was noteworthy and rendered with considerable courage.

"In my country," he said firmly, "we bow to God alone. We acknowledge the position of a Prince but never bow before him."

The Emperor was annoyed but he had the grace not to show it. His Ministers were astounded. They went into hurried conference. It was an insult to China. He must die.

However, Kao Li-shih, because of his condition, was not so hot-headed as other members of the Court.

He approached the throne, knelt and touched his head to the ground.

"Great Master," said he gently, "I beg that the Envoy's breach of etiquette pass by unobserved. Perhaps it is not intended as an insult, but a difference in Court etiquette of a foreign country. It should not be considered as a crime."

"Rise, Kao Li-shih," said the Emperor. "The incident is forgotten but I shall remember with pride how you have interceded for a stranger, who, had I listened to the foolish chatter of certain Court luminaries, might have been branded as an enemy. It is my decree that this episode be preserved in the writings of Court Poets. The one who writes best of it, shall be given a slender maiden worthy of his song."

In this manner did the Emperor succeed in turning attention away from an unpleasant incident.

Some say that after the jewels had been burned, Ming Huang banished all his women that he might live frugally at the Palace and devote all his time to the affairs of the people. A pretty thought, but without foundation. That he was a good ruler, none can deny. Nor, for that matter, can it be denied that as a lover he left nothing to be desired. History tells that he had so many lovely fragile women eager to do his command, he found it hard to select a partner for a night's repose. Therefore all his maidens twined flowers in their hair. They walked gracefully through the garden, and their breath was like perfume. Then into the garden would come Kao Li-shih. He would release a swarm of butterflies from a bamboo cage. This method of selection was called "Butterfly Luck" or "Butterfly Fortune." The maiden about whose head the butterflies swarmed, was the night's companion. Together they would remain until the moon melted into the dawn.

Some of the young ladies who were not attractive to butterflies had scarcely a bowing acquaintance with the Emperor, and since their ministrations were never required, they devoted their time to little white waistcoats called "Ma-kwa" or riding jackets, a necessary part of formal dress, upon which they embroidered yellow butterflies.

 

3.

The greatness of a leader is measured by the caliber of the men about him. A nation to flourish in the sun cannot be under the thumb of one man, even though it be a Celestial thumb on the hand of "The Son of Heaven." Ming Huang, greatest of Emperors, knew this and was influenced by it. In his court were poets, artists and musicians. Among the poets were many generals who were not puppets who danced to the strings and tune of a master. They were able to lead and reason independently. When faced with a severe test, they were equal to it. Witness the case of General Chang Shou-kuei, on the occasion of the attack on Bishbalik. The Turkic tribes surged down upon him while he was putting the old fortifications in order. He was ill-equipped, his stores of arms had not arrived, defeat stared him in the face. Quickly, he got together a banquet attended by his officers which was held on the city wall in plain view of the tribes sweeping down upon him. They had expected resistance, they were confused by this blatant show of indifference. They reasoned that if the officers could banquet on the wall with so little concern, the forts must contain so many soldiers willing and ready to resist, that successful attack would be impossible. For a while they watched from a safe distance. The merrymaking was so uproarious they could not doubt its genuineness. To go forward would mean defeat. The heart was deadened within them as though by a macabre drug, and a drug it was, a potent drug, the drug of doubt. In what approached panic, they turned and fled, with General Chang's troops in pursuit. It is not hard to shoot down wild geese blinded by the sun. When they were weary of killing, the troops desisted and returned to their own fortifications. A mighty feast followed. Girls from Bishbalik joined the party as guests of honor.

Not long afterwards, General Chang returned to the Capital and was decorated by the Emperor.

After the ceremonies at the palace were over, Chang and the Emperor retired to a tea-house beside a lake in the Imperial Gardens. They sat near an open window, that faced a grove of pine trees beneath which cranes drowsed in the sunshine. The dust of the morning had been stilled by a shower; the fragrance of earth blended with wistaria. Rumor had it that the single black crane was six hundred years old. No longer did he take food but lived entirely on water. He was deeply interested in human affairs and had noticed the arrival of the Emperor. It was but natural then, for him to take up a position near the window, where he could overhear the conversation.

Ming Huang was vastly amused, nor did he deem fit to banish the patriarch of birds to the ovens of his cook, because of his effrontery. The bird was a symbol of longevity, his proximity was a good omen.

A servant brought tea which he poured into thin pottery cups. His felt-soled slippers made no sound upon the blue-tiled floor.

The Emperor breathed deeply of the aroma, pale-orchid scented. Tea was liquid jade. It could be partaken of only in a tranquil room, and in fitting robes.

Chang, sensing the reverence with which Ming Huang viewed the tea, waited in silence. In the garden distance a bird broke forth in song, and the breeze in the pines caught the rhythm.

"Let us drink," said Ming Huang softly. "When I drink tea the cool breath of heaven blows in my sleeves and carries my cares away."

Not till the last drop of tea had been drunk, did he speak again. Chang waited his commands.

"By your action at Bishbalik," Ming Huang began, "you have honored not only the Chinese Empire but the generations of men who are to come. You have shown that something beyond brute force can route an enemy. Pure reasoning has won a signal victory. I am gratified. Though I am your Emperor, momentarily I look up to you. You have shown me the Way in a manner worthy of the greatest of all sages. A blue tiger can kill. There is no glory in killing. Honors should be given to a man who stems a flood rather than to one who attacks a weak nation simply to add new territory. States won in that manner never become welded to the Empire. They watch for weak moments, when disaster stalks in some distant part, then they strike and break away. In history, China will be great, because if my wishes are followed through the ages, conquest will be a weapon only used against the oppressors in order to help tire oppressed.

"Therefore I have an important work for you to do. Together we will set about the task of stifling War. Battles are not won by arms, but by reputation. I will send story-tellers far and wide to every corner of the Empire. They will tell stories in the marketplace as the people gather around them, and all the stories will be of your great power and skill. Fame spreads on the wings of the wind and is breathed into the lungs by the people and never forgotten. It eventually sinks to the very marrow of the bones. Battles are won or lost in men's hearts. A man with a sword at his throat is no more easily influenced than a man enslaved by fear."

Chang bowed. "Truly you are indeed the Illustrious Emperor."

"A good Emperor is the servant of his people. Man's mission is to rise; it is the property of water to fall. But there must be energy to direct that rise. That is the property of an Emperor. I am conscious of it in every rustle of the wind over blue-tiled roofs. Or when my retinue passes through the main roads of Changan. Kao Li-shih tells me that some of the most devoted of my subjects kneel in prayer over my footprints as I walk in the bazaars. Such stories bring warmth to my heart. Only this morning at our Court was a strange man from India. In a gentle voice he recited strange poetry. I made him repeat it over and over again, until I too could quote it. 'Live neither in the present, nor in the future, but in the Eternal. . . because nothing that is embodied, nothing that is conscious of separation, nothing that is out of the Eternal, can aid you. . . within you is the light of the world. . . . Read the Larger word of Life? I am not sure that I know how to interpret it, but it has undoubtedly a certain beauty, perhaps truth. The greatest civilization, the one that survives the longest, will be the one in which education is as universal as a cooking-pot. All knowledge can find a resting place in China. It can be boiled in the cauldron of reflection and the dross drained off. Men, not walls, make a city. An army of only one traitor is large enough to overthrow the largest kingdom. A country can be conquered on horseback, but it cannot be governed on horseback. An Empire is firm when the conquering Emperor dismounts and walks among his people, when he chooses his generals as much for their steadfastness as for their might."

Chang Shou-kuei remained with bowed head. "I wish all the world, Your Majesty, might hear your gentle words," he murmured. "It is a privilege to sleep under China skies, and to belong to China."

"Today I shall make you Governor of Kua-chou. Before the sun retires, my seal shall be placed on your appointment. Go to Kua-chou. Let the legend grow. I shall not be angered by the splash of power made by your person."

 

4.

Chang Shou-kuei accepted his assignment and sent story-tellers throughout the length and breadth of the land. They crouched in the sand of the desert, in the marketplaces of busy towns, and along the routes of caravans, and deftly wove their stories into a strange mantle of many colors which Chang Shou-kuei wrapped about his shoulders while he sat in residence at Kua-chou, enjoying the panorama spread out before him, or the soft caresses of one of his women. Truly, it seemed that with the appointment, the Emperor, under his great seal had given him a grove of characters and a page of diamonds. It was an experiment extremely palatable. Nevertheless, he refused to permit pleasure to gallop away with common sense. He had an important work to do. He was very devout in his appreciation of the twenty-first Ode of the Chi-king: 'Heaven created man, but not in order that man should rashly use the privilege of life.'

As was natural under this new plan of living, the soldiers of Chang Shou-kuei grew sleek and strong. Carefully they laid aside their arms, and turned to farming. They married and raised children and were tolerant of their neighbors. Meanwhile the story-tellers spread their absurd tales, carrying them to extremes beyond their instructions. But Chang Shou-kuei did not stop them. When an army is at peace, though ready for war, then is the garrison strong. Without any undue commotion, the men of the army drilled in small groups, and since they wore no uniforms, no decorations, few there were who realized they were fighting men. Sometimes, battles are more easily won by soldiers who are not crushed under the weight of their equipment and medals. Too many decorations are like too many sweets at a meal. They disturb the perfect balance of bodily functions.

Governor Chang was somewhat amused, and vastly pleased that the Emperor's plan was working so perfectly. What matter even though his narrators built up a reputation for him in which he became a being with supernatural powers. The populace listened in awe to the great Chang legend. They believed that some day his shadow would encompass the earth, a shadow matched only by that of the Emperor. Perhaps his Majesty, Ming Huang, would make the Governor his heir. They did not know that Chang Shou-kuei had one ambition only, to serve his country and his Emperor, to carry out orders to their uttermost completion.

So the legend of Chang Shou-kuei grew. It was whispered that he was superhuman. Invisible dragons and spirits fought with him. He was proficient in the arts of necromancy and geomancy. Myths with the substance of reality, for they aroused fear and panic. Soldiers would not fight the mighty Governor Chang, a Governor who personally directed his troops as they marched to battle. He rode on a white horse, with the speed of the wind, a horse that snorted fire. And so Chang, although he remained in Kua-chou as immobile as the Laughing Buddha, swept everything before him. He won battles without force. There were no casualties, so easily were his conquests accomplished.

It is a tribute to the good judgment of Governor Chang, that in a position in which it was an effort to practice humility, at heart he remained faithful to the trust of his Emperor.

 

5.

And then out of the grim, gray dusk, a shadow loomed up to dispute his power. No longer in Kua-chou was he supreme. New legends were drifting back to him from the story-tellers. Too few li away to be comfortable, a barbarian had come into power. His name was Duke Bonimet. He called himself General of all Troops. While this was ridiculous exaggeration there could be no doubting that he had a mighty army under his command, equipped with all the appurtenances of warfare that make one general brave enough to spit in another's face. When he heard about Chang Shou-kuei he laughed heartily, nor would he cease, he declared, until the heavens opened and all the legends of Chang, the Conqueror, rained down like dust upon the desert. This was a challenge that had to be met. For the first time renowned Chang was losing face. Something had to be done about it. His men had turned to the soil. Under their ministrations the soil had responded well. The crops were good. That they were excellent soldiers, there was no denying. They were equal to any emergency. They were in perfect health. Their standard of living was high. They were splendid fighters, brave, loyal, able to stand long marches, and excess exertion without fatigue. In battle they could easily subdue Duke Bonimet. A braggart is like a gaudy kite flying, backed up by a rotten string that may snap at any moment. Had any of the Supreme Beings who dwelt in the College of Immortality been braggarts? Lao Tzu, Confucius, Mencius, Mohammed, Christ, Buddha, Nestorius? Disciples of their doctrines lived in harmony at Changan under the gracious, tolerant Emperor Ming Huang. When the Nestorian Christian Church burned, and the congregation was short of funds, Ming Huang made up the deficit out of his own coffers. And yet he was not a Christian. He was a Taoist with a firm belief in all its kindred magic and mysticism.

Governor Chang meditated over the achievements of the eminent religious leaders. Not one of them had been a braggart, yet their memories overshadowed the achievements of all the conquering militarists who had marched pompously across the screen of being since P'an Ku hewed out the world with hammer and chisel. Chang Shou-kuei was sure that Duke Bonimet was as noisy and hollow as a conch-shell. In the interim, however, to the populace he appeared strong. His veneer of power must be cracked. Nevertheless Chang Shou-kuei, after profound meditation, came to the conclusion that it would not be necessary to take up arms. The Emperor had spent much money scattering story-tellers throughout the breadth of China. Must the seed that they had sown be wasted, without even one crop being harvested? It was unthinkable. Bitter, bitter seed, certainly. True, the men were in fine physical condition, but so was Governor Chang. The people in his province were happy and contented. They had multiplied, for the women were fruitful. They were loyal.

He gave orders that his soldiers were to assemble, in uniform, but without war equipment. While he waited, he mused, "Kingdoms cannot spring up over night like bamboo reeds and retain permanence. An artist cannot draw a picture on the air and expect it to remain. The tiger stalking his prey does not growl; the general stalking his victims does not rattle his armaments. The tiger, growling, does so to keep up his courage. The strutting of a general is for the same reason. Though Duke Bonimet appears well-armed there is weakness somewhere in his equipment. Since it is not with his armaments, perhaps it is with his men. Perhaps his men are hungry and he attempts to feed them on hatred. He must attack somebody, lest his army decide to attack him. A general may overcome his enemies but he is constantly at the mercy of his men. Duke Bonimet will have to strike quickly, for his men evidently are desperate for food."

The Governor smiled. The matter had ceased to be a problem. He would give Duke Bonimet food in abundance to do away with the necessity to strike. He was not at all concerned over his decision to kowtow, for he knew that the snake of avarice never yet had been able to swallow the elephant of abundance.

 

6.

Duke Bonimet was jubilant when an emissary arrived with a scroll from Chang the Conqueror. The Governor wished to visit the Duke at the city that turns its back upon all others. It was his desire to pay homage to this mightiest of generals. Duke Bonimet swelled with pride as the text was read to him. It had been written by Chang himself in graceful brush strokes on silk. It was a forceful document. Its strength lay in its humility. It practically amounted to complete surrender. The great Chang Shou-kuei wished to crawl under his thumb. It was a pleasurable item to chew on. Completely forgotten were all the tales he had heard of the previous exploits of Chang, the Conqueror. How upon occasion he had removed the tongues of his enemies to prevent them from talking. Now Chang was a craven figure, he wished to bow at the feet of Duke Bonimet. Yes, Chang Shou-kuei was a craven but he was a craven who controlled vast stocks of food and was the lord of great wealth. Later, after certain festivities were over, Duke Bonimet would seize all the food he needed. For if a man be hungry, he who can appease that hunger will control the man. And it had been long since his people had feasted to excess. A well-fed army takes many prisoners but loses no battles. No man of earth stood in a more enviable position than Duke Bonimet. He could afford to be gracious. So he set a day for the coming of Governor Chang, a day that would mark the beginning of a period of festivities. No one of his people would work. All the hours would be given up to pleasure.

And Duke Bonimet waited impatiently for the arrival of his guests, the auspicious occasion of which was set at no great distance. From watch-towers his sentries scanned the horizon and even attempted to peer over the distant purple rim. At last a shout went up. A huge snake was winding over the desert. As it glided nearer they could make out the details of a mighty caravan, camels too numerous to count that blurred off into the distance. Each camel was so heavily laden it could scarcely stagger under its burden. Duke Bonimet had had little time to absorb wisdom, so he was not suspicious of Chang Shou-kuei who came bearing gifts. The caravan that was approaching surpassed in wealth any that ever crossed the famed Silk Road of Wu Ti. When all the bounty had been set out before Duke Bonimet, it was a display the like of which he had never beheld in all the days of his being. Rugs and tapestries, rich brocades, fragrant with jasmine, sandalwood and musk. Perfumes and spices and statuettes as cold and white as snow upon Tai Shan. Carved ivory figurines; plates and goblets, crystal clear, of glowing yellow glass that reflected the warmth of the sun. Paintings on bamboo, on bricks of clay, and on strips of silk. Clazed tiles with floral designs. Carved jade horses and citrus fruit. Green stone statuettes of crouching greyhounds. Rare potteries from the Hsia dynasty, of flower petal design. Fragile vases and tea bowls. A treasury of money, including cowrie shells, the oldest form of currency in China, used for thousands of years before the Chou dynasty. Gold and silver coins that tinkled and echoed sweetest music to the ears of Duke Bonimet as they piled on the floor of his palace till they formed a small mountain of fabulous worth. Chang Shou-kuei must have stripped his kingdom to appease the General of All Men. Masterful indeed must his fear have been, his fear of Duke Bonimet's power. And there were large copper mirrors set with gems in which the Duke could contemplate his own superb reflection; lutes with notes as eerie as the moon-breeze in the treetops; lacquer boxes and screens inlaid with gold and silver; leather ornaments; precious metal buckles; a heavy solid gold bowl decorated on the inside with a lion and on the outside with four crouching lions on guard. But the chief gift was a five-colored dragon, each color a jewel. Duke Bonimet was exceedingly pleased, for the dragon was the emblem of the Emperor. It augured a brilliant future for him. Five had always been a magical number. At night five planets appear in China skies. Five tints are to be found in nature. And there are five elements; wood, fire, earth, metal, water. So on endlessly. Even in direction, five points are recognized; East, West, North, South and Center, and Chang Shou-kuei by his action recognized the Center as Duke Bonimet. It was a graceful gesture, a gracious compliment, totally disarming. So pleased with it the Duke was, he unbuckled his sword and cast it from him. That was his method of acknowledging the homage of Governor Chang.

 

7.

Choice foods had also been brought by the caravan. That evening great rugs were spread in the streets of the city and all the populace feasted on a repast of fifty courses prepared by the five hundred cooks of Chang Shou-kuei. Truly it was a bad day for pheasants and suckling pigs, but for the soldiers and subjects of Duke Bonimet there was so much rich warm rice wine, it trickled down the chin. So much did they eat, their fingers were tired and their jaws ached. It was all they could do to ward off regurgitation. Stomachs cried out in anguish. Nevertheless, they ate on. Duke Bonimet, from his place on the dais beside Chang Shou-kuei, gazed down upon his soldiers, his face as benevolent as a full moon. It was good to watch them being fed so well, since it was costing him nothing.

From sheer exhaustion, at last the celebrants paused. The surge of the flood of feast slowed up. Food had lost its allure, though the warmth of the wine still enticed. And now slim dancing-girls appeared, arrayed in softest silk of pungent vivid colors. They swayed with the vibrancy of young trees. Their arched eyebrows enhanced their vermilioned faces. The music crashed, the stars stared down like startled eyes, for no lovelier picture had ever been witnessed in the realms of Duke Bonimet, General of All Men. By torches and campfire the girls danced and wove a golden spell. To many, the faces of the dancing girls appeared as through a mist. They had drunk much. Their senses reeled and spun and sprawled. But it was pleasurable to watch those graceful, gliding figures. Others collapsed amid the food, or spewed up the messes that their weary stomachs spumed. Chang Shou-kuei had drunk little but he pretended that he was beyond despair. He hid behind a drunken cloak, a pretense of intoxication. Duke Bonimet surveyed the scene. He, too, was drunk, drunk with power. He needed no wine, for his head was a maze of plans and ambitions. The future loomed in brilliant glory. He was unconquerable.

 

8.

For three days the festivities continued, much to the chagrin of Duke Bonimet for he wished to be alone, unhampered by state functions, that he might gloat over the treasures that had been given him by Chang Shou-kuei. But the people of the Duke's realm held an opinion that was the direct antithesis to his. Never had they been surfeited by such an abundance of food. Many had conversed with the men who dwelt in Kuo-chou. In bewilderment, they discovered that in that province there was no such thing as hunger. Nor were there any mendicants. The storehouses of Chang Shou-kuei were within the earth. The farmers went out with reverence into the fields. Their bare feet dug into the warm, new-turned soil as though they were taking root. From the earth they drew strength, these men who were as strong as oak trees. To them the soil gave its best. No longer was the earth flayed by countless marching men engaged in combat. Dawn rolled out over a peaceful country.

It was like listening to folktales of lost lands where people lived and died magnificently. And the men who should have been loyal to Duke Bonimet found their loyalty breaking and crumbling away. A whisper sprang up and crept about among the people, a whisper as gentle as the little rain of China softly falling. Though it was of vast portent, it crept about soundlessly on little cat's feet, too deftly told for even an echo to drift to the ears of Duke Bonimet.

Finally the hour came that had been set for the departure of the caravan of Chang Shou-kuei. There was much noise and chatter. The crowds of people swelled to mob proportions. Duke Bonimet was impatient, so he did not notice the guilty expressions on the faces of his people, faces that usually were mask-like and inscrutable. His thoughts were concerned with other things. When he had paid his farewell respects to Chang Shou-kuei, he hastily withdrew and went at once to his palace. He caused the doors of the great hall which had been converted into a treasure-chamber to be secured because he did not wish to be disturbed. It was needless precaution. Never would he be disturbed again, for every last one of his people, even the aged, the crippled and the young with all their horses, their dogs, their falcons, their pigs, had followed the caravan of Chang, the Conqueror. In all the city not a single living creature remained except Duke Bonimet, General of All Men.

 

9.

Hours later, several trusted followers of Governor Chang returned to the quiet fortresses of the Duke. They seized him, paying no heed to his violent protestations, carried him into a desert region and buried him until naught but his head showed. Then wild horses were permitted to romp and race about in that section of the desert. One tripped, breaking his leg, over the screaming head. The horse had to be destroyed. The head shrieked no more.

When Ming Huang, the Mighty Emperor, was given a report, he was much impressed.

"Violence is always deplorable," said he, "but the state is greater than any individual man. When a man is not good for the state, he must be destroyed. Unfortunately, Duke Bonimet, though he was General of All Men, was only an unnoticed obstacle to the black horse that killed him. Wherever a madman rises, with fantastic visions, the people themselves should rise to blot him out."