San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 109

It was in the sixteenth year of Yen-Hsi that Chiang Wei’s army of twenty legions was ready to march against the House of Wei. Miao Hua and Chang I were leaders of the van; Hsiahou Pa was strategist; Chang Ni was in command of the commissariat. The army marched out by the Yangpʻing Pass.

Discussing the plan of campaign with Hsiahou Pa, Chiang Wei said, “Our former attack on Yungchou failed, so this time they will doubtless be even better prepared to resist. What do you suggest?”

The strategist replied, “Nanan is the only well-provided place in all Shênsi; if we take that it will serve as an excellent base. Our former ill-success was due to the non-arrival of the Ch‘iang. Let us therefore send early to tell them to assemble, after which we will move out at Shihying and march to Nanan by way of Tungt‘ing.”

Chiang approved the plan and at once sent Ch‘i Chêng as his envoy, bearing gifts of gold and pearls and Ssuch‘uan silk to win the help of the Prince of the Ch‘iang, whose name was Mitang. The mission was successful; the prince accepted the presents and sent five legions to Nanan under the leadership of Ohoshaoko.

When Kuo Huai heard of the threatened attack, he sent a hasty memorial to Loyang. Ssŭma Shih at once asked who of his captains would go out to meet the army from the west. Hsü Chih volunteered, and as the Prime Minister had a high opinion of his capacity, he was appointed leader of the van. The brother of the Prime Minister, Ssŭma Chao, went as Commander-in-chief.

The Wei army set out for Shênsi, reached Tungt‘ing and there fell in with Chiang Wei. When both sides were arrayed Hsü Chih, who wielded a mighty axe called “Splitter of Mountains” as his weapon, rode out and challenged. Miao Hua went forth to accept, but after a few bouts he took advantage of a feint and fled.

Then Chang I set his spear and rode forth to continue the fight. He also soon fled and returned within his own ranks. Thereupon Hsü Chih gave the signal to fall on in force, and ​the army of Shu lost the day. They retired thirty li; Ssŭma also drew off his men, and both sides encamped.

“Hsü Chih is very formidable; how can we overcome him?” asked Chiang Wei.

“To-morrow make pretence of defeat and so draw them into an ambush,” was the reply.

“But remember whose son this Ssǔma Chao is,” said Chiang. “He cannot be a novice in war, and if he sees a likely spot for an ambush he will halt. Now the men of Wei have cut our communications many times; let us do the same to them, and we may slay this Hsü.”

He called in the two leaders of his van and gave them secret orders, sending them in different directions. Then he laid iron caltrops along all the approaches and planted chevaux de frise ("deer-horns") as if making a permanent defence. When the men of Wei came up and challenged, the men of Shu refused battle.

The scouts discovered that the Shu supplies were coming up along the rear of T‘iehlung Mountains, and they were using the wooden oxen and running horses as transport. They also reported the look of permanency in the defences and said they were evidently awaiting the arrival of their allies the barbarian tribes.

Then said Ssŭma, “We formerly defeated the army of Shu by cutting off supplies, and we can do that again. Let half a legion go out to-night and occupy the road.”

About the middle of the first watch Hsü Chih marched across the hills, and when he came to the other side he saw a couple of hundred men driving a hundred or so head of mechanical animals laden with grain and forage. His men rushed down upon them with shouts, and the men of Shu, seeing that their road was impassable, abandoned their supplies and ran away. Hsü took possession of the supply train, which he sent back to his own camp under the escort of half his men. With the other half he set out in pursuit.

About ten li away, the road was found blocked with carts set across the track. Some of his men dismounted to clear the way, but as they did so the brushwood on both sides burst into a blaze. Hsü at once drew off his men and turned to retire, but coming to a defile he found the road again blocked with waggons, and again the brushwood began to burn. He made a dash to escape, but before he could get clear a bomb roared, and he saw the men of Shu coming down on him from two directions. Both fell on Hsü with great fury, and the men of Wei were wholly defeated. Hsü Chih himself got clear, but without any following.

He struggled on till he and his steed were almost spent with fatigue. Presently he saw another company of the enemy in his way, and the leader was Chiang Wei. He could make no ​resistance. His horse fell from a spear thrust, and as Hsü Chih lay on the ground he was cut to pieces.

Meanwhile those men of Wei who had been sent to escort to camp the convoy of supplies which they had seized were captured by Hsiahou Pa. They surrendered. Hsiahou then stripped them of their weapons and clothing and therein disguised some of his own men. Holding aloft banners of Wei, these disguised men made for the Wei camp. When they arrived they were mistaken by those in the camp for comrades, and the gates were thrown open.

They rushed in and began to slay. Taken wholly by surprise, Ssŭma Chao leaped upon his steed and fled. But Miao Hua met him and drove him back. Then appeared Chiang Wei in the path of retreat, so that no road lay open. Ssǔma made off for the hills, hoping to be able to hold out on the T‘iehlung Hill.

Now there was but one road up the hill, which rose steeply on all sides. There was but one small spring of water, enough to serve a hundred men or so, while Ssǔma’s force numbered six thousand. Their enemies had blocked the only road. This one fountain was unequal to supplying the needs of the beleaguered army, and soon they were tormented with thirst. In despair, Ssǔma looked up to heaven and sighed, saying, “Death will surely come to me here.”

In this critical situation a certain civil officer, Wang T‘ao by name, reminded his leader of what Kêng Kung had done, saying, “O General, why do you not imitate Kêng Kung, who, being in great need, prostrated himself and prayed at a well, wherefrom he afterwards was supplied with sweet water?”

So the leader went to the summit of the hill and knelt beside the spring and prayed thus:—“The humble Chao received a command to repulse the army of Shu. If he is to die here, then may this spring cease its flow, when he will end his own life and let his soldiers yield to the enemy. But if his allotted span of life be not reached, then, O Blue Vault, increase the flow of water and save the lives of this multitude.”

Thus he prayed; and the waters gushed forth in plenty, so that they all quenched their thirst and lived.

Chiang Wei had surrounded the hill, holding the army thereon as in a prison. He said to his officers, “I have always regretted that our great minister was unable to capture Ssǔma I in the Shangfang Valley, but now I think his son is doomed to fall into our hands.”

​However, news of the dangerous position of Ssŭma Chao had come to Kuo Huai, who set about a rescue.

Ch'ên T‘ai said to him, “Chiang Wei has made a league with the Ch‘iang, and they are helping him. They will first take Nanan. If they have arrived, and you go away to rescue Ssŭma, leaving this city weak, they will attack from the rear. Therefore I would propose to send some one to the barbarians to try to create a diversion and get them to retire. If they are disposed of, you may go to the rescue of Ssŭma.

Kuo saw there was much reason in this and told Ch'ên to take a small force and go himself to the camp of the Prince of the Ch‘iang. When he reached the camp he threw off his armour and entered weeping and crying that he was in danger of death.

He said, “Kuo Huai sets himself up as superior to everyone and is trying to slay me. Therefore I have come to offer my services to you. I know all the secrets of the Wei army, and, if you will, this very night I can lead you to their camp. I have friends in the camp to help, and you can destroy it.”

Prince Mitang was taken with the scheme, and sent his lieutenant Ohoshaoko to go with Ch'ên. The deserters from Wei were placed in the rear, but Ch'ên himself rode with the leading body of Ch‘iang. They set out at the second watch and soon arrived. They found the gates open, and Ch‘ên rode in boldly.

But when the Ch‘iang galloped in, there suddenly arose a great cry as men and horses went tumbling into great pits. At the same time Ch'ên came round in the rear and attacked, while Kuo appeared on the flank. The barbarians trampled each other down, and many were killed. Those who escaped death surrendered, and the leader, Ohoshaoko, committed suicide.

Kuo and Ch'ên then hastened back into the camp of the Ch‘iang. Mitang, taken unprepared, rushed out of his tent to get to horse, but was made prisoner. He was taken before Kuo Huai, who hastily dismounted, loosed the prisoner’s bonds and soothed him with kindly words.

“Our government has always regarded you as a loyal and true friend,” said Kuo. “Why then are you helping our enemies?”

Mitang sank to the ground in confusion, while Kuo continued, “If you will now raise the siege of T‘iehlung Hill and drive off the men of Shu, I will memorialise and obtain a substantial reward for you.”

Mitang agreed. He set out forthwith, his own men leading and the men of Wei in the rear. At the third watch he sent on a messenger to tell Chiang Wei of his coming. And the Shu leader was glad. Mitang was invited to enter, leaving the greater portion of his men outside.

​On the march the men of Wei had mingled with the Ch‘iang, and many of them were in the forefront of the army. Mitang went up toward the gate with a small company, and Chiang Wei with Hsiahou Pa went to welcome him. Just as they met, before Mitang could say a word, the Wei captains dashed on past him and set on to slay. Chiang was taken aback, leaped on his steed and fled, while the mixed force of men of Shu and barbarians drove the camp defenders before them and sent them flying.

When Chiang leaped upon his steed at the gate he had no weapon in his hand, only his bow and quiver hung at his shoulder. In his hasty flight the arrows fell out and the quiver was empty, so when he set off for the hills with Kuo Huai in pursuit, Chiang had nothing to oppose to the spears of his pursuers. As they came near he laid hands upon his bow and made as if to shoot. The string twanged and Kuo Huai blenched. But as no arrow went flying by he knew Chiang had none to shoot. Kuo therefore hung his spear, took his bow and shot. Chiang caught the arrow as it flew by and fitted it to his bowstring. He waited till his enemy came quite near, when he pulled the string with all his force and sent the arrow flying straight at Kuo’s face. Kuo fell even as the bowstring sang.

Chiang pulled up and turned to finish his fallen enemy, but the men of Wei were nearly upon him, and he had only time to snatch up his spear and ride off. Now that Chiang Wei was armed and their own leader wounded, the soldiers of Wei had no more desire to fight. They picked up their general and carried him to camp. There the arrow-head was pulled out, but the flow of blood could not be staunched, and Kuo Huai died.

Ssǔma descended from the hill as soon as Chiang moved away, and pursued some distance.

Hsiahou Pa rejoined his colleague as soon as he could, and they marched together. The losses of Shu in this defeat were very heavy. On the road they dared not halt to muster or reform, but went helter-skelter into Hanchung. The leaders said to themselves that, though they had been defeated, they had killed two generals on the other side and had damaged the prestige of Wei.

After rewarding the Ch‘iang for their help, Ssǔma led his army back to Loyang, where he joined his brother in administering the government. They were too strong for any of the officers to dare opposition, and they terrorised King Fang so that he shook with fright whenever he saw Ssŭma Shih at court, and felt as if needles were being stuck into his back.

One day, when the king was holding a Court, Ssŭma Shih came into the hall wearing his sword. The king hastily left his place to receive him.

​“What does this mean? Is this the correct etiquette for a prince when his minister approaches?” said Ssǔma, smiling. “I pray Your Majesty remember your dignity and listen while the ministers address the Throne.”

Court business then proceeded. Ssŭma decided every question without reference to the king, and when he retired he stalked haughtily down the hall and went home, followed by his escort, which numbered thousands of horse and foot.

When the king left the court only three followed him to the private apartments. They were Hsiahou Hsien, Li Fêng and Chang Ch‘i, all ministers. The last was the father of his Consort. Sending away the servants, the king and these three went into a private chamber.

Seizing his father-in-law’s hand, the king began to weep, saying, “That man Ssŭma Shih treats me as a child and regards the officers of state as if they were so many straws. I am sure the throne will be his one day.”

And he wept bitterly. Said Li, “Do not be so sad, Sire. I am but a poor sort of person, but if Your Majesty will give me authority, I will call together all the bold men in the country and slay this man.”

“It was from fear of this man that my brother was forced to go over to Shu,” said Hsiahou Hsien. “If he were destroyed, my brother could return. I belong to a family related to the rulers of the state for many generations, and I cannot sit still while a wretch ruins the government. Put my name in the command as well as Li’s, and we will work together to remove him.”

“But I am afraid,” said the king.

They wept. The three ministers pledged themselves to work together for the destruction of the tyrant. The king them stripped himself of his innermost garment, gnawed his finger till the blood flowed and with his finger-tip traced a command in blood. He gave it to his father-in-law, saying, “My ancestor the Emperor Wu (Ts‘ao Ts‘ao) put to death Tung Ch'êng for just such a matter as this, so you must be exceedingly careful and maintain the greatest secrecy.”

“Oh, why use such ill-omened words?” cried Li Fêng. “We are not like Tung any more than Ssŭma Shih resembles your great ancestor. Have no doubts.”

The three conspirators took leave and went out carrying the edict with them. Beside the Tunghua Gate of the palace they saw their enemy coming to meet them wearing a sword. Following him were many armed men. They took the side of the road to let the party go by.

“Why are you three so late in leaving the palace?” asked Ssŭma.

“His Majesty was reading, and we stayed with him,” said Li.

​“What was he reading?”

“The histories of the Hsia, Shang and Chou dynasties.”

“What questions did the king ask as he read those books?”

“He asked about I Yin and how he upheld the Shangs; and Duke Chou, how he acted when he was regent. And we told His Majesty that you were both I Yin and Duke Chou to him.”

Ssǔma smiled grimly. “Why did you compare me with those two? You made him think me a rebel like Wang Chieh or Tung Cho.”

“How should we dare when we are your subordinates?”

“You are a lot of flatterers,” said Ssŭma, angrily. “And what were you crying about in that private chamber with the king?”

“We did no such thing.”

“Your eyes are still red; you cannot deny that.”

Hsiahou Hsien then knew that they had been betrayed already, so he broke out into a volley of abuse, crying, “Well, we were crying because of your conduct, because you terrorise over the king and are scheming to usurp the Throne.”

“Seize him!” roared Ssŭma.

Hsiahou threw back his sleeves and struck at Ssŭma with his fists, but the lictors pulled him back. Then the three were searched, and on Chang was found the blood-stained garment of the king. They handed it to their chief, who recognised the object of his search, the secret edict.

It said:—“The two brothers Ssŭma have stolen away all my authority and are plotting to take the Throne. The edicts I have been forced to issue do not represent my wishes, and hereby all officers, civil and military, may unite to destroy these two and restore the authority of the Throne. These ends achieved, I will reward those who help to accomplish them.”

Ssŭma, more angry than ever, said, “So you wish to destroy me and my brother. This is too much.”

He ordered his followers to cut the three to pieces on the public execution ground and to destroy their whole clans.

The three reviled without ceasing. On the way to the place of execution they ground their teeth with rage, spitting out the pieces they broke off. They died muttering curses.

Ssǔma then went to the rear apartments of the palace, where he found the Emperor talking with his Consort. Just as he entered she was saying, “The palace is full of spies, and if this comes out it will mean trouble for me.”

Ssǔma strode in, sword in hand.

“My father placed Your Majesty on the throne, a service no less worthy than that of Duke Chou; I have served Your Majesty as I Yin served his master. Now is kindness met by enmity and service regarded as a fault. Your Majesty has plotted with two or three insignificant officials to slay me and my brother. Why is this?”

​“I had no such intention,” said the king.

In reply, Ssŭma drew the garment from his sleeve and threw it on the ground.

“Who did this?”

The king was overwhelmed; his soul flew beyond the skies, his spirit fled to the ninth heaven. Shaking with fear, he said, “I was forced into it. How could I think of such a thing?”

“To slander ministers by charging them with rebellion is an aggravated crime,” said Ssǔma.

The king knelt at his feet, saying, “Yes; I am guilty; forgive me.”

“I beg Your Majesty to rise; the laws must be respected.”

Pointing to the Empress, he said, “She is of the Chang house and must die.”

“Spare her,” cried the king, weeping bitterly.

But Ssǔma was obdurate. He bade the lictors lead her away, and she was strangled with a white silk cord at the palace gate.

The day after these events Ssŭma Shih assembled all the officers and addressed them thus:—“Our present lord is profligate and devoid of principle; familiar with the vile and friendly with the impure. He lends a ready ear to slander and keeps good men at a distance. His faults exceed those of Chang I of Han, and he has proved himself unfit to rule. Wherefore, following the precedents of I Yin and Ho Kuang, I have decided to put him aside and to set up another, thereby to maintain the sanctity of the ruler and ensure tranquillity. What think you, Sirs?”

They all agreed, saying, “General you are right to play the same part as I Yin and Ho Kuang, thereby acting in accordance with Heaven and fulfilling the desire of mankind. Who dares dispute it?”

Then Ssǔma, followed by the whole of the officials, went to the Palace of Eternal Peace and informed the Empress Dowager of his intention.

“Whom do you propose to place on the throne, General?” she asked.

“I have observed that Ts‘ao Chü, Prince P'êngch'êng, is intelligent, benevolent and filial; he is fit to rule the empire.”

She replied, “He is my uncle and cannot become Emperor. However, there is Ts‘ao Mao, Duke of Kaokueihsiang, and grandson of the Emperor Wên. He is of mild temperament, ​respectful and deferential, and may be set up. You, Sir, and the high officers of state might favourably consider this.”

Then spake one, saying, “Her Majesty speaks well; he should be raised to the throne.”

All eyes turned toward the speaker, who was Ssǔma Fu, uncle of Ssŭma Shih.

The duke was summoned to the capital. The Empress called King Ts‘ao Fang into her presence in the Hall of Eternity and blamed him, saying, “You are vicious beyond measure, a companion of lewd men and a friend of vile women. You are unfitted to rule. Therefore resign the imperial seal and revert to your status of Prince Ch‘i. You are forbidden to present yourself at court without special command.”

Ts‘ao Fang, weeping, threw himself at her feet. He gave up the seal, got into his carriage and went away. Only a few faithful ministers restrained their tears and bade him farewell.

The Emperor-elect Ts‘ao Mao, who also bore the name Yenshih, was the grandson of the Emperor Wên, and son of Ts‘ao Lin, Prince Ting of Tunghai. When he was nearing the capital all the officers attended to receive him at the Nanyeh Gate, where an imperial carriage awaited him. He hastily returned their salutations.

“The ruler ought not to return these salutations,” said Wang Shu, one of the officers.

“I also am a minister and must respond,” replied he.

They conducted him to the carriage to ride into the palace, but he refused to mount it, saying, “Her Majesty has commanded my presence, I know not for what reason. How dare I enter the palace in such a carriage?”

He went on foot to the Hall, where Ssǔma Shih awaited him. He prostrated himself before the minister. Ssŭma hastily raised him and led him into the presence.

The Empress-Dowager said, “In your youth I noticed that you bore the impress of majesty. Now you are to be the Ruler of the Empire. You must be respectful and moderate, diffusing virtue and benevolence. You must do honour to your ancestors the former emperors.”

Ts‘ao Mao modestly declined the proposed honour, but he was compelled to accept it. He was led out of the presence of the Empress-Dowager and placed in the seat of empire.

The style of the reign was proclaimed as Chêng-Yüan. An amnesty was granted. Honours were heaped upon Ssǔma Shih, who also received the golden axes, with the right to proceed leisurely within the precincts, to address the Throne without using his prænom and to wear arms at court.

​But in the spring it was reported at court that the General Wuch‘iu Chien and the Governor of Yangchou, Wên Ch‘in, were raising armies with the declared design of restoring the deposed emperor.

Ssǔma Shih was disconcerted.

How this new menace was met will appear in the next chapter.